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A WEEK AT WATERLOO IN 1815
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A WEEK AT WATERLOO
IN 1815
LADY DE LANCEY'S NARRATIVE
BEING AN ACCOUNT OF HOW SHE NURSED HER
HUSBAND, COLONEL SIR WILLIAM HOWE DE
LANCEY, QUARTERMASTER - GENERAL OF THE
ARMY, MORTALLY WOUNDED IN THE GREAT
BATTLE
EDITED BY MAJOR B. R. WARD
ROYAL ENGINEERS
LONDON
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET
1906
"Dim is the rumour of a common fight,
When host meets host, and many names are sunk ;
But of a single combat Fame speaks clear."
Sohrab and Rustum.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
MAJOR WILLIAM HOWE DE LANCEY, 45th Regt. of
Foot, c. 1800. From a miniature in the possession
of Wm. Heatticote De Lancey of New York . Frontispiece
THE GOLD CROSS OF SIR WM. DE LANCEY, received
after serving in the Peninsular War, with
clasps for Talavera, Nive, Salamanca, San
Sebastian, and Vittoria. In the possession of
Major J. A. Hay .... Face p. 10
LADY DE LANCEY. From a miniature after J. D.
Engleheart . . . . . 24
PART OF AN AUTOGRAPH LETTER OF SIR WALTER
SCOTT . . . . . . 34
PART OF AN AUTOGRAPH LETTER OF CHARLES DICKENS. 36
COLONEL SIR WILLIAM HOWE DE LANCEY, c. 1813 . 38
MAP OF PART OF THE BATTLEFIELD OF WATERLOO 110
THE VILLAGE OF MONT ST JEAN, 1815 . . ,. 113
THE WATERLOO MEMORIAL IN EVERE CEMETERY 118
vii
495677
A WEEK AT WATERLOO IN 1815
INTRODUCTION
THE following narrative, written over eighty
years ago, and now at last given to the world in
1906, is remarkable in many respects,
i It is remarkable for its subject, for its style, and
for its literary history.
The subject a deathbed scene might seem
at first sight to be a trite and common one. The
mise-en-scene the Field of Waterloo alone
however redeems it from such a charge ; and the
principal actors play their part in no common-place
or unrelieved tragedy. "Certainly," as Bacon
says, " Vertue is like pretious Odours, most fragrant
when they are incensed or crushed : For Prosperity
doth best discover Vice; But Adversity doth best
discover Vertue."
As to the style, it will be sufficient to quote the
authority of Dickens for the statement that no
one but Defoe could have told the story in fiction.
2 A WEEK AT WATERLOO
Its literary history is even more remarkable
than either its style or its subject.
It is no exaggeration to say of the narrative
as Bacon said of the Latin volume of his Essays
that it " may last as long as Bookes last." And yet
it has remained in manuscript for more than eighty
years. This is probably unique in the history of
literature since the Invention of Printing.
As regards the hero of the narrative, the Duke
of Wellington once said that he " was an excellent
officer, and would have risen to great distinction
had he lived." 1
Captain Arthur Gore, who afterwards became
Lieutenant-General Gore, alludes to him in the
following terms : " This incomparable officer was
deservedly esteemed by the Duke of Wellington,
who honoured him with his particular confidence
and regard."
His ancestors, for several generations, had been
men of great distinction, and he undoubtedly
inherited their great qualities in a very high degree.
1 Notes of Conversations with the Duke of Wellington, by Earl
Stanhope, p. 183.
2 Explanatory Notes on the Battle of Waterloo, by Captain
Arthur Gore, 1817, p. 83.
INTRODUCTION 3
The De Lancey family is one of Huguenot
origin, the founder of the family,* Etienne De
Lancey, having fled from France at the time of the
Revocation of the Edict of Nantes in 1685.
The following extracts treating of the family
history are taken from Appleton's Cyclopaedia of
American Biography.
The author of the articles, Edward Floyd De
Lancey, 2 was born in 1821, and died at Ossining,
N.Y., on the 7th April 1905. At one time he held
the position of President of the New York Genea-
logical Society, and has done a great deal of work
in the field of historical research.
"Etienne De Lancey (great-grandfather of Sir
William De Lancey), was born in Caen, France,
1 In French annals the family can be traced back to the
time of the Hundred Years' War. The first of the name, of
whom there is any authentic record, was Guy de Lancy,
Vicomte de Laval et de Nouvion, who in 1432 held of the Prince
Bishop of Laon and Nouvion, villages and territories a few miles
south of that city. See History of New York during the Revolu-
tionary War, by Thomas Jones, edited by Edward Floyd De
Lancey, vol i., p. 651, and Dictionnaire de la Noblesse de France,
vol. viii., title " Lancy."
2 For biographical sketch, see Appleton's Cyclopaedia, vol. ii.,
p. 130.
4 A WEEK AT WATERLOO
24th October 1663 ; and died in the city of New
York, 18th November 1741. Having been com-
pelled, as a Protestant, to leave France on the
revocation of the Edict of Nantes (18th October
1685), he escaped into Holland. Deciding to
become a British subject and to emigrate to
America, he crossed to England and took the oath
of allegiance to James II. He landed in New
York, 7th June 1686. His mother had given him,
on his departure from Caen, a portion of the family
jewels. He sold them for 300, became a merchant,
and amassed a fortune of 100,000. He married
Anne, second daughter of Stephanus van Cortlandt,
23rd January 1700. He took a prominent part in
public affairs, representing the fourth ward of New
York as alderman in 1691-93, and was a member of
Assembly for twenty-four years. While sitting in
the latter body he gave his salary, during one session,
to purchase the first town-clock erected in New
York; and with the aid of his partner imported
and presented to the city the first fire-engine that
had been brought into the province. The De
Lancey house, built by Etienne in 1700 upon a piece
of land given to him by his father-in-law, is now the
INTRODUCTION 5
oldest building in the city of New York." 1 Mr De
Lancey was buried in the family vault in Trinity
Church, New York.
Three of his sons, James, Peter, and Oliver, left
descendants. Descendants of the eldest son, James,
amongst whom were included Edward Floyd De
Lancey, the historian of the family, are resident in
the city of New York, and also at Ossining, N.Y.
Descendants of the second son, Peter, are now
living in the county of Annapolis, Nova Scotia. 2
The third son, Oliver, grandfather of the hero
of the present narrative, went to England after the
Revolutionary War. No direct descendants of his
in the male line would appear to be now living.
The following is the account of his life as given
in Appleton's Cyclopaedia :
" Oliver, the youngest son of Etienne, was born
in New York City, 16th September 1708 ; and died
in Beverley, Yorkshire, England, 27th November
1785. He was originally a merchant, being a
member of the firm founded by his father. He
1 Appleton's Cyclopcedia, vol. ii., p. 129.
2 For further details of this branch of the family, see the
History of the County of Annapolis, by Calnek and Savary,
pp. 339-344 and 499.
6 A WEEK AT WATERLOO
early took an active part in public affairs, and was
noted for his decision of character and personal
popularity. He represented the city of New York
in the Assembly in 1756-60, and served as alder-
man of the out- ward from 1754 till 1757. He was
active in military affairs during the entire French
War, and, in 1755, obtained leave from Connecticut
to raise men there for service in New York, for
which he received the thanks of the Assembly of
his own province. In March 1758 he was ap-
pointed to the command of the forces then being
collected for the expedition against Crown Point,
and succeeded in raising the entire New York City
regiment within ten days. He was placed at the
head of the New York contingent, under General
Abercrombie (about 5000 strong), as Colonel-in-
Chief. In the attack on Fort Ticonderoga, 8th
July 1758, he supported Lord Howe, and was near
that officer when he fell mortally wounded. In
November of the same year the Assembly of New
York again voted him its thanks 'for his great
service, and singular care of the troops of the colony
while under his command.' In 1760 he was
appointed a member of the Provincial Council, re-
INTRODUCTION 7
taining his seat until 1776. In 1763 he was made
Keceiver-General, and in 1773 Colonel-in-Chief of
the Southern military district of the province. ' In
June 1776,' says the historian Jones, 'he joined
General Howe on Staten Island; and, had that
officer profited by his honest advice, the American
War, I will be bold to say, would have ended in a
very different manner to what it did/ In September
of that year he raised three regiments of Loyalists,
largely at his own expense, of 500 men each, known
as *De Lancey's battalions.' Of these regiments a
brigade was formed, and Colonel De Lancey was
commissioned Brigadier- General in the Loyalist
service. He was assigned to the command of Long
Island, where he remained during the war. One of
his battalions served in the South with great credit,
under his son-in-law, Colonel John Harris Cruger,
doing effective service in the defence of Fort Ninety-
six against General Greene. In November 1777,
his country-seat at Bloomingdale, on the Hudson,
was robbed and burned at night by a party of
Americans from the water-guard at Tarrytown, his
wife and daughters being driven from the house in
their night-dresses and compelled to spend the night
8 A WEEK AT WATERLOO
in the fields, now the Central Park. Having been
attainted, and his immense estates in New York and
New Jersey confiscated, General De Lancey retired
to England, where he resided in Beverley until his
death. Of his four daughters, Susanna married Sir
William Draper, while Charlotte became the wife
of Sir David Dundas, K.C.B., who succeeded the
Duke of York as Commander-in-Chief of the
British Army." 1
In the Life of Van Schaak, his decease is men-
tioned thus by a fellow-Loyalist : " Our old friend
has at last taken his departure from Beverley, which
he said should hold his bones ; he went off without
pain or struggle, his body wasted to a skeleton, his
mind the same. The family, most of them, collected
in town (London). There will scarcely be a village
in England without some American dust in it, I
believe, by the time we are all at rest." :
" Stephen, the eldest son of Brigadier- General
Oliver De Lancey, and father of Sir William De
Lancey, was born in New York City about 1740;
and died in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, De-
1 Appleton's Cyclopaedia, vol. ii., p. 132.
2 Loyalists of the American Revolution (Sabine), vol. i., 365.
INTRODUCTION 9
cember 1798. He was educated in England, and
practised law in New York before the Kevolu-
tionary War, during which he served as Lieutenant-
Colonel of the "De Lancey's" second battalion.
After the war he was appointed Chief Justice of
the Bahama Islands, and subsequently was made
Governor of Tobago and its dependencies. His
health becoming impaired while he held the latter
office, he sailed for England to rejoin his family.
But he grew rapidly worse on the voyage, and, at
his own request, was transferred to an American
vessel bound for Portsmouth, N.H., where he died,
and was buried a few days after his arrival. 1
1 The following is an extract from the Parish Register of
St John's Church, Portsmouth, N.H.
" 1798.
RECORD OF DEATHS.
Dec br 6 th
His Excellency, Stephen De Lancy, Governour of
Tobago, who died, the night after his arrival
in the harbour of this town, of a decline which
had been upon him for six months, aged 50
years."
Mr De Lancey was buried in the Wentworth tomb, in St
John's Churchyard, where many of the Wentworth Governors of
New Hampshire and their families are buried. ED.
B
10 A WEEK AT WATERLOO
Sir William De Lancey, soldier, only son of the
preceding, was born in New York about 1781, 1
and died in June 1815, in consequence of wounds
received at the battle of Waterloo. He was
educated in England, and early entered the British
army. He served with great distinction under
Wellington in Spain, and was several times
honourably mentioned in his despatches. 2
At the close of the war he was made a Knight
of the Bath. When Napoleon landed from Elba,
Wellington, in forming his staff, insisted on having
De Lancey appointed as his Quartermaster- General.
The officer really entitled to the promotion was Sir
William's brother-in-law, Sir Hudson Lowe ; 3 but
1 This date agrees with the tradition handed down in the
family with Lady De Lancey 's narrative, to the effect that he
was only thirty-four at the time of his death at Waterloo. ED.
2 Vide Gurwood's Despatches of the Duke of Wellington, 2nd
edition, vol. in., pp. 227 and 229 ; vol. v., p. 476 ; vol. vi., p. 542.
Sir Harry Smith, a soldier of soldiers " inter milites miles "
speaks of him in his Autobiography as "that gallant fellow
De Lancey." (Autobiography of Sir Harry Smith, vol. i., p. 266.)
3 It was not till the 16th December 1815 six months after
Waterloo that Sir Hudson Lowe married Mrs Susan Johnson,
sister of Sir William De Lancey. (Dictionary of National
Biography, vol. xxxiv., p. 191.) See also The Creevey Papers,
Third Edition (1905), p. 247.
THE GOLD CROSS OF SIR WILLIAIM DE LANCEY.
Received after serving in the Peninsular War.
In the possession of Major J. A. Hay.
[To face page 10.
INTRODUCTION 11
as Wellington had conceived a dislike for him,
he refused to accept that officer in that capacity.
The military authorities, however, insisted on his
appointment, and it was only when Wellington
made the promotion of De Lancey a sine qua non
of his acceptance of the supreme command that
the former yielded. 1 Six weeks before the battle
1 " Wellington assumed command in the Netherlands early in
April 1815, and Lowe, who had been acting as Quartermaster-
General in the Low Countries under the command of the Prince
of Orange, remained for a few weeks under him as his Quarter-
master-General ; but having been nominated to command the
troops in Genoa designed to co-operate with the Austro-
Sardinian armies, he was replaced in May by Sir William Howe
De Lancey." (Dictionary of National Biography, art. " Lowe,
Sir Hudson," vol. xxxiv., p. 191.) See also The Creevey Papers,
Third Edition (1905), p. 247.
The following extract of a letter from Major-General Sir
H. Torrens to Earl Bathurst, Secretary for War, dated Ghent,
8th April 1815, alludes to the hitch about Sir Hudson Lowe :
" I shall communicate fully with the Commander-in- Chief upon
the Duke of Wellington's wishes respecting his Staff ... As
you were somewhat anxious about Sir Hudson Lowe, I must
apprise you that he will not do for the Duke." (Supplementary
Despatches of the Duke of Wellington, vol. x., pp. 42 and 43.) (Cf.
The Creevey Papers, Third Edition (1905), p. 289.)
Evidently Sir Hudson Lowe was no more of a persona grata
to Wellington than he afterwards became to Napoleon !
A letter from Major-General Sir H. Torrens, who appears to
12 A WEEK AT WATERLOO
of Waterloo, Sir William married the daughter of
Sir James Hall l of Dunglass, the Scottish scientist,
have been acting at the time as Military Secretary to the Duke
of York, Commander-in-Chief at the Horse Guards, written to
the Duke of Wellington from London on the 16th April 1815,
shows the high estimation in which the Duke held De Lancey's
services :
" De Laiicey is in town on his way to go out. ... I told
him the very handsome and complimentary manner in which
you asked for his services, and assured him that nothing could
be so gratifying, in my view of the case, to his military and
professional feelings as the desire you expressed to me of having
him again with you." (Supplementary Despatches of the Duke of
Wellington, vol. x., p. 130.)
That the Duke felt deeply the interference of Head-
quarters with his selection of Staff Officers is clearly shown by
the following letter, written by him to Earl Bathurst, Secretary
for War, dated Bruxelles, 4th May 1815 :
" To tell you the truth, I am not very well pleased with the
manner in which the Horse Guards have conducted themselves
towards me. It will be admitted that the army is not a very
good one, and, being composed as it is, I might have expected
that the Generals and Staff formed by me in the last war would
have been allowed to come to me again ; but instead of that, I
am overloaded with people I have never seen before ; and it
appears to be purposely intended to keep those out of my way
whom I wished to have. However I'll do the best I can with
the instruments which have been sent to assist me." (Supple-
mentary Despatches of the Duke of Wellington, vol. x., p. 219.)
1 See Dictionary of National Biography, vol. xxiv., p. 68.
INTRODUCTION 13
His bride accompanied him on the Continent. On
the second day of the battle 1 Sir William was
knocked from his horse by a spent cannon-ball,
and it was at first supposed that he had been
instantly killed. Thirty-six hours afterwards he
was discovered, still alive and in his senses, but
incapable of motion, although without any visible
wound. Notwithstanding the skill of the surgeons,
and the tender care of his wife, he succumbed to
his injuries nine days after the battle."
There are several references to De Lancey's
death in the "Letters of Colonel Sir Augustus S.
Frazer, K.C.B., commanding the R.H.A. in the
army under the Duke of Wellington, written
during the Peninsular and Waterloo campaigns,"
edited by Major-General Sir Edward Sabine, E.A.
On the 29th June Sir Augustus writes to Lady
Frazer from Mons : "I regret to state that poor
De Lancey is dead ; so Hume, the Duke's surgeon,
told me. He had opened the body ; eight ribs
were forced from the spine, one totally broke to
1 On the 18th June, at Waterloo ; the battle of Quatre Bras
having been fought on the 16th. ED.
2 Appleton's Cyclopaedia, vol. ii., pp. 132, 133.
14 A WEEK AT WATERLOO
pieces, and part of it in the lungs. Poor De
Lancey ! He is our greatest loss ; a noble fellow
and an admirable officer," p. 582.
In connection with the foregoing, it will be inter-
esting to compare the account of De Lancey 's wound
given in the Dictionary of National Biography :
" The Duke of Wellington gave the following
version of the occurrence to Samuel Rogers:
'De Lancey was with me, and speaking to me
when he was struck. We were on a point of land
that overlooked the plain. I had just been warned
off by some soldiers (but as I saw well from it, and
two divisions were engaging below, I said " Never
mind"), when a ball came bounding along en
ricochet, as it is called, and, striking him on the
back, sent him many yards over the head of his
horse. He fell on his face, and bounded upwards
and fell again. All the staff dismounted and ran
to him, and when I came up he said, 'Pray tell
them to leave me and let me die in peace.' I
had him conveyed to the rear, and two days after,
on my return from Brussels, I saw him in a barn,
and he spoke with such strength that I said (for I
INTRODUCTION 15
had reported him killed), 'Why! De Lancey, you
will have the advantage of Sir Condy in "Castle
Rackrent "- you will know what your friends said
of you after you were dead.' ' I hope I shall/ he
replied. Poor fellow ! We knew each other ever
since we were boys. But I had no time to be sorry.
I went on with the army, and never saw him again." *
The following is the extract from Wellington's
official despatch of the 19th June, referring to De
Lancey :
"I had every reason to be satisfied with the
conduct of the Adjutant- General, Major- General
Barnes, who was wounded, and of the Quarter-
master-General, Colonel De Lancey, who was killed
by a cannon-shot in the middle of the action.
This officer is a serious loss to His Majesty's
service, and to me at this moment." 2
1 " Recollections of Samuel Rogers/' under " Waterloo."
From the article 011 "Sir William De Lancey/' by H. Manners
Chichester, in the Dictionary of National Biography, vol. xiv.,
pp. 304, 305.
2 Gurwood, vol. viii., p. 150. Cf. Letters of Colonel Sir
Augustus S. Frazer, K.C.B., dated Nivelles, June 20 : " De Lancey
is said to be dead: this is our greatest loss, none can be
greater, public or private/' p. 550.
16 A WEEK AT WATERLOO
At the end of the despatch there is a P.S.
announcing the death of Major- General Sir William
Ponsonby, followed by a second P.S. couched in
the following terms : " I have not yet got the
returns of killed and wounded, but I enclose a list
of officers killed and wounded on the two days, as
far as the same can be made out without the returns ;
and I am very happy to add that Colonel De Lancey
is not dead, and that strong hopes of his recovery
are entertained."
That the Duke felt keenly his severe losses
in killed and wounded, especially amongst the
members of his Staff, is shown by the following
reminiscence of General Alava, 1 as told by him,
two years after the battle, to Sir Harry Smith
and his wife the lady now immortalised by the
name Ladysmith, emblazoned on the colours or
accoutrements of thirty-five British regiments.
On the evening of the battle, "the Duke got
back to his quarters at Waterloo about nine or
1 A Spanish naval officer who served on the Staff of the
Duke of Wellington during the Peninsular War and at Waterloo.
Alava enjoyed the unique distinction of having been present
both at Trafalgar and Waterloo. At the former battle he
commanded a Spanish line-of-battle ship. ED.
INTRODUCTION 17
ten at night. The table was laid for the usual
number, while none appeared of the many of
his Staff but Alava and Fremantle. The Duke
said very little, ate hastily and heartily, but
every time the door opened he gave a search-
ing look, evidently in the hope of some of his
valuable Staff approaching. When he had finished
eating, he held up both hands in an imploring
attitude and said, 'The hand of Almighty God
has been upon me this day/ jumped up, went to
his couch, and was asleep in a moment." 1
The following is from General Alava's official
report of the action : " Of those who were by
the side of the Duke of Wellington, only he and
myself remained untouched in our persons and
horses. The rest were all either killed, wounded,
or lost one or more horses. The Duke was
unable to refrain from tears on witnessing the
death of so many brave and honourable men,
and the loss of so many friends and faithful
companions." :
1 Autobiography of Sir Harry Smith, vol. i., p. 291.
2 From the Supplement to the Madrid Gazette of the 1 3th July
1815, quoted in the London Evening Mail of August 2 to August
4, 1815.
C
18 A WEEK AT WATERLOO
The next morning, the Duke wrote the follow-
ing note to Lady Frances W. Webster, dated
"BRUXELLES, IWi June 1815.
" Half-past 8 in the morning.
"My DEAR LADY FRANCES,
" Lord Mount -Norris may remain in
Bruxelles in perfect security. I yesterday, after
a most severe and bloody contest, gained a com-
plete victory, and pursued the French till after
dark. They are in complete confusion; and I
have, I believe, 150 pieces of cannon ; and Bliicher,
who continued the pursuit all night, my soldiers
being tired to death, sent me word this morning
that he had got 60 more. My loss is immense.
Lord Uxbridge, Lord Fitzroy Somerset, General
Cooke, General Barnes, and Colonel Berkeley are
wounded : Colonel De Lancey, Canning, Gordon,
General Picton killed. 1 The finger of Providence
was upon me, and I escaped unhurt. Believe me,
etc., 2 WELLINGTON."
1 All the foregoing were on the General Staff of the Army
or on the Duke's personal Staff. ED.
2 Supplementary Despatches of the Duke of Wellington, vol. x.,
p. 531.
INTRODUCTION 19
Captain Gronow a subaltern of the 1st
Guards at Waterloo - - gives us the following
glimpse of the Duke and his Staff, on the morning
of the 18th, before the opening of the battle :
" The road was ankle-deep in mud and slough ;
and we had not proceeded a quarter of a mile
when we heard the trampling of horses' feet, and
on looking round perceived a large cavalcade of
officers coming at full speed. In a moment we
recognised the Duke himself at their head. He
was accompanied by the Duke of Eichmond, and
his son, Lord William Lennox. The entire Staff
of the army was close at hand : the Prince of
Orange, Count Pozzo di Borgo, Baron Vincent,
the Spanish General Alava, Prince Castel Cicala,
with their several aides-de-camp; Felton Hervey,
Fitzroy Somerset, and De Lancey were the last
that appeared. They all seemed as gay and un-
concerned as if they were riding to meet the
hounds in some quiet English county." 1
Colonel Basil Jackson, who in 1815 was a
lieutenant in the Royal Staff Corps, attached to
1 Recollections and Anecdotes, by Captain Gronow, p. 186.
20 A WEEK AT WATERLOO
the Quartermaster - General's department (see
Dalton's Waterloo Roll Call, p. 38), gives the
following interesting reminiscences of De Lancey
on the 17th, at Quatre Bras, and during the retreat
to Waterloo on the same day : " Some few changes
were made in the disposition of the troops after
the Duke of Wellington arrived on the ground,
soon after daylight ; arms were then piled, and the
men, still wearied with their exertions of inarch-
ing and fighting on the preceding day, lay down to
snatch a little more rest. The Duke, too, after
riding about and satisfying himself that all was as
it should be, dismounted and stretched himself on
the ground, very near the point where the road
from Brussels to Charleroi crossed that leading
from Nivelles to Namur, forming thereby the
Quatre Bras.
" I remained for some time at a short distance
from the great man, who occasionally addressed
a few words to Lord Fitzroy Somerset, Sir E.
Barnes, De Lancey, and others of his principal
officers. He was then awaiting the return of Sir
Alexander Gordon, who had gone off by the
INTRODUCTION 21
Namur road, some time between 6 and 7 o'clock,
escorted by a squadron of the 10th Hussars. I
had seen this detachment start at a round trot,
but of course knew not the object of despatching
it; which, as we learned afterwards, was to gain
intelligence of Bliicher's operations, whose defeat
at Ligny we, that is, the army generally, were
ignorant of, though the Duke was aware of it.
" I availed myself of this period of quietness to
go and examine particularly the ground which had
been so hardly contested the day before.
" Returning to the place where I had left the
Duke when I set out on my ramble round the
outposts, I found him still on the same spot ;
where he remained till Gordon and his escort
came in with jaded horses, soon after 10 o'clock.
On hearing his report, the Duke said a few words
to De Lancey, who, observing me near him, directed
me to go to Sir Thomas Picton, and tell him the
orders were to make immediate preparation for
falling back upon Waterloo.
" Just as the retreat commenced (about noon), I
22 A WEEK AT WATERLOO
was ordered off to Mont St Jean, where I was told
I should meet the Quartermaster- General ; accord-
ingly I made for Genappe, and as the high road
was by that time filled with troops, being, more-
over, careless of the farmer's interest, I took a
short cut through the corn-fields, in such a direc-
tion as enabled me to strike into that village about
its centre. There I found sad confusion prevailing ;
country waggons with stores, ammunition tumbrils,
provision waggons, and wounded men, choked up
the street, so that it was impossible for any one to
pass. Aware of the great importance of freeing
the passage at a time when the retiring troops
might be pressed by the enemy, I at once set to
work to remedy the disorder that prevailed. Let
the reader picture to himself Police Constable 61 C
posted at the pastry-cook's corner where Grace-
church Street enters Cheapside, at a moment when
those passages, together with Bishopsgate and
Leadenhall Streets are blocked up by 'buses, drays,
waggons, carts, advertising locomotives, private
carriages, and dodging cabs, when that unhappy
functionary is vainly striving to restore order and
clear the ways, and he will have some idea of the
INTRODUCTION 23
difficulty I experienced in executing my self-
imposed task. Happily, I was acquainted with
some pithy expressions in two or three languages,
which were familiar to the ears of those I had to
deal with ; and these, together with the flat of my
sword, proved very efficacious in the end. While
in the thick of this scene of tumult and confusion,
I felt some one clap me on the shoulder, and on
looking round saw Sir W. De Lancey. ' You are
very well employed here/ said he; 'remain, and
keep the way clear for the troops; I shall not
want you at Waterloo/ Encouraged by my
chiefs commendation I redoubled my efforts,
and had soon the satisfaction of seeing the defile
free." l
"A week after the battle" to quote again
from the article by H. Manners Chichester in
the Dictionary of National Biography " De
Lancey succumbed to his injuries, in a peasant's
cottage in the village of Waterloo, where he was
tenderly nursed by his young wife, who had
joined him in Brussels a few days before the
1 " Recollections of Waterloo/' by a Staff Officer, in United
Service Journal for 1847, Part III., p. 11.
24 A WEEK AT WATERLOO
battle. According to another account, De Lancey
was laid down at his own request when being
conveyed to the rear, and so was left out un-
tended all night and part of the next day. Rogers,
in a note, states that he was killed by ' the wind
of the shot,' his skin not being broken ; and also
that Lady De Lancey left a manuscript account
of his last days."
This manuscript account was written in the
first instance by Lady De Lancey for the informa-
tion of her brother, Captain Basil Hall, E.N.
The original manuscript has been lost sight of.
An early copy, which was made by Mrs Basil Hall,
is now in the possession of their grand-daughter,
Lady Parsons. Copies would appear to have been
made by members of the family at various times ;
but the existence of the narrative was apparently .
not known to Edward Floyd De Lancey, the
historian of the family in Appleton's Cyclopaedia.
Besides the copy of the narrative made by Mrs
Basil Hall, another copy came into the possession
of the poet Rogers. This copy is now owned by
W. Arthur Sharpe, Esq., Highgate, N. Both the
above versions which contain only slight varia-
&
anety
INTRODUCTION 25
tions have been consulted in the present edition
of the narrative.
Captain Basil Hall, R.N. (vide Dictionary of
National Biography, vol. xxiv., p. 58), was a well-
known author in his day, his best known work
being Fragments of Voyages and Travels, published
in three series between 1831 and 1833, and
frequently reprinted since.
In Volume II. of the first series, Captain Hall
alludes to his first meeting with De Lancey. It
occurred on board H.M.S. Endymion on the
morning of the 18th January 1809, when the
British troops had all been safely embarked on
the transports, the second day after the battle
of Corunna.
Basil Hall then a lieutenant in the navy
and De Lancey 1 struck up a great friendship on
the Endymion, and the former introduced his
1 De Lancey was at this time a lieutenant-colonel and
permanent assistant in the quartermaster-general's department
(Army List, 1809, p. 323).
His first commission as a cornet in the 16th Light Dragoons
bore the date 7th July 1792 (Army List, 1793, p. 50), when
he was only eleven years old.
He was gazetted lieutenant in the same regiment on the
D
26 A WEEK AT WATERLOO
soldier friend after the voyage home to his family
in Scotland. The marriage of De Lancey six
years afterwards to Basil Hall's sister Magdalene
was a result of this introduction.
The following extract from Captain Basil Hall's
Fragments of Voyages and Travels, gives an account
of the first meeting of the two friends on board
26th February 1793, and was subsequently transferred to the
80th Foot.
On the 20th October 1796 he was gazetted captain in the
17th Light Dragoons, of which regiment his uncle, General
Oliver De Lancey, was then colonel.
He obtained a majority in the 45th (or Nottinghamshire)
Regiment of Foot on the 17th October 1799. He was by this
time eighteen years of age, and up to this date had probably
no connection with the army at all beyond drawing his pay
and figuring in the Army List. Even now he does not appear
to have joined his regiment until its return from the West
Indies, a year or two afterwards (Diet. Nat. Biog., vol. xiv.,
p. 305). His first uniform was probably that of the 45th Foot,
and the portrait, forming the frontispiece of this volume, was
in all likelihood painted on his first joining the regiment as a
major in 1800 or 1801.
In the Army List of 1804 he is shown on page 31 as an
assistant quartermaster-general. His actual regimental ser-
vice can therefore hardly have exceeded two or three years.
Until his death in 1815, he was continuously on the staff of the
army in the quartermaster-general's department.
INTRODUCTION 27
the Endymion, and of the dramatic circumstances
under which Captain Hall heard the news of his
sister's marriage, and of De Lancey's death at
Waterloo :
"As we in the Endymion had the exclusive
charge of the convoy of transports, we remained
to the very last, to assist the ships with provisions,
and otherwise to regulate the movements of the
stragglers. Whilst we were thus engaged, and
lying to, with our main -topsail to the mast, a
small Spanish boat came alongside, with two or
three British officers in her. On these gentlemen
being invited to step up, and say what they
wanted, one of them begged we would inform him
where the transport No. 139 was to be found.
"'How can we possibly tell you that?' said
the officer of the watch. 'Don't you see the
ships are scattered as far as the horizon in every
direction? You had much better come on board
this ship in the meantime.'
" ' No, sir, no,' cried the officers ; ' we have
received directions to go on board the transport
139, and her we must find.'
" ' What is all this about ? ' inquired the
28 A WEEK AT WATERLOO
captain of the Endymion; and being told of the
scruples of the strangers, insisted upon their
coming up. He very soon explained to them
the utter impossibility, at such a moment, of
finding out any particular transport amongst
between three and four hundred ships, every one
of which was following her own way. We found
out afterwards that they only were apprehensive
of having it imagined they had designedly come
to the frigate for better quarters. Nothing, of
course, was farther from our thoughts ; indeed,
it was evidently the result of accident. So we
sent away their little boat, and just at that
moment the gun-room steward announced break-
fast. We invited our new friends down, and
gave them a hearty meal in peace and comfort
a luxury they had not enjoyed for many a
long and rugged day.
" Our next care was to afford our tired
warriors the much-required comforts of a razor
and clean linen. We divided the party amongst
us; and I was so much taken with one of
these officers, that I urged him to accept such
accommodation as my cabin and wardrobe afforded.
INTRODUCTION 29
He had come to us without one stitch of clothes
beyond what he then wore, and these, to say
the truth, were not in the best condition, at the
elbows and other angular points of his frame.
Let that pass he was as fine a fellow as ever
stepped; and I had much pride and pleasure
in taking care of him during the passage.
" We soon became great friends ; but on
reaching England we parted, and I never saw
him more. Of course he soon lost sight of me,
but his fame rose high, and, as I often read his
name in the Gazettes during the subsequent
campaigns in the Peninsula, I looked forward
with a gradually increasing anxiety to the renewal
of an acquaintance begun so auspiciously. At
last I was gratified by a bright flash of hope in
this matter, which went out, alas, as speedily as
it came. Not quite six years after these events,
I came home from India, in command of a sloop
of war. Before entering the Channel, we fell in
with a ship which gave us the first news of the
battle of Waterloo, and spared us a precious
copy of the Duke of Wellington's despatch ; and
within five minutes after landing at Portsmouth,
30 A WEEK AT WATERLOO
I met a near relation of my own. This seemed
a fortunate rencontre, for I had not received a
letter from home for nearly a year and I eagerly
asked him
" ' What news of all friends ? '
" ' I suppose,' he said, ' you know of your
sister's marriage ? '
" ' No, indeed ! I do not ! which sister ? '
" He told me.
" ' But to whom is she married ? ' I cried
out with intense impatience, and wondering greatly
that he had not told me this at once.
" * Sir William De Lancey was the person/
he answered. But he spoke not in the joyous
tone that befits such communications.
" ' God bless me ! ' I exclaimed. ' I am
delighted to hear that. I know him well we
picked him up in a boat, at sea, after the battle
of Corunna, and I brought him home in my
cabin in the Endymion. I see by the despatch,
giving an account of the late victory, that he
was badly wounded how is he now ? I observe
by the postscript to the Duke's letter that strong
hopes are entertained of his recovery.'
INTRODUCTION 31
"'Yes,' said my friend, 'that was reported,
but could hardly have been believed. Sir William
was mortally wounded, and lived not quite a
week after the action. The only comfort about
this sad matter is, that his poor wife, being near
the field at the time, joined him immediately
after the battle, and had the melancholy satis-
faction of attending her husband to the last ! ' " l
It was, as before stated, at Captain Hall's
request that Lady De Lancey wrote the memor-
able Waterloo narrative.
In order to satisfy the natural curiosity of
friends who had probably heard of the narrative
in Captain Hall's possession Lady De Lancey
prepared an abridged version, in more general
terms, and of a much more reserved character than
the original account, written for her brother only.
This condensed account was found amongst
the papers of her nephew, General De Lancey
Lowe, after his death in 1880. His widow
published it in the Illustrated Naval and Military
Magazine for 1888, p. 414.
1 Fragments of Voyages and Travels, by Captain Basil Hall,
R.N., 1831, vol. ii., pp. 367-371,
32 A WEEK AT WATERLOO
In some few instances this abridged account
contains descriptive touches not given in the
original narrative. These variations are given in
the form of notes to the present edition of the
narrative.
Thomas Moore in his diary for the 29th August
1824 describes the circumstances under which
Captain Hall lent him his copy of the narrative
as follows :
"A note early from Lord Lansdowne, to say
that Capt. Basil Hall, who is at Bowood, wishes
much to see me ; and that if I cannot come over
to-day to either luncheon or dinner, he will call
upon me to-morrow. Answered that I would
come to dinner to-day. Walked over at five. . . .
Company, only Capt. Basil Hall, Luttrel, and
Nugent, and an ad interim tutor of Kerry's. . . .
Hall gave me, before I came away, a journal
written by his sister, Lady De Lancey, containing
an account of the death of her husband at
Waterloo, and her attendance upon him there,
they having been but three months married.
Walked home; took the narrative to bed with
me to read a page or two, but found it so deeply
INTRODUCTION 33
interesting, that I read till near two o'clock, and
finished it; made myself quite miserable, and
went to sleep, I believe, crying. Hall said he
would call upon me to-morrow." 1
Earl Stanhope, in his Notes of Conversations
with the Duke of Wellington, p. 182, writes as
follows : " I mentioned with much praise Lady De
Lancey's narrative of her husband's lingering death
and of her own trials and sufferings after Waterloo.
The Duke told me that he had seen it Lord
Bathurst having lent it him many years ago."
This conversation took place on the 12th October
1839.
The two most famous literary men to whom
Captain Basil Hall lent the narrative, were,
however, Sir Walter Scott and Charles Dickens.
Sir Walter Scott writes under date Abbotsford,
13th October 1825, that his publisher, Constable,
thinks that the narrative "would add very great
interest as an addition to the letters which I
wrote from Paris soon after Waterloo, and certainly
I would consider it as one of the most valuable
1 Memoirs, Journal, and Correspondence of Thomas Moore,
edited by Lord John Russell, vol. iv., p. 239.
E
34 A WEEK AT WATERLOO
and important documents which could be published
as illustrative of the woes of war. 1
" I never read anything which affected my own
feelings more strongly, or which, I am sure, would
have a deeper interest on [sic] those of the
public. . . .
" Perhaps it may be my own high admiration
of the contents of this heartrending diary, which
makes me suppose a possibility that after such
a lapse of years, the publication may possibly (as
that which cannot but do the highest honour to
the memory of the amiable authoress) may [sic]
not be judged altogether inadmissible. . . .
Most truly yours, WALTER SCOTT." 2
The following is a transcript of the most
remarkable passages in Dickens' letter :
1 Perhaps the Memoires de Madame la Marquise de Laroche-
jaquelein of which four editions were published between 1814
and 1817 one of the noblest and most touching of autobio-
graphies is the nearest parallel in literature to Lady De
Lancey's narrative. The French Marchioness describes her
experiences in Paris in 1789, and during the Insurrection of
La Vendee in 1793. ED.
2 The complete letter will be found in Appendix A of this
volume.
PART OF AN AUTOGRAPH LETTER OF SIR WALTER SCOTT.
[To /ace 2>a0e 34.
INTRODUCTION 35
"DEVONSHIRE TERRACE,
" Tuesday evening, \th March 1841.
"My DEAR HALL,
" I have not had courage until last night to read
Lady De Lancey's narrative, and, but for your
letter, I should not have mastered it even then.
One glance at it, when, through your kindness,
it first arrived, had impressed me with a fore-
boding of its terrible truth, and I really have
shrunk from it in pure lack of heart.
" After working at Barnaby all day, and wander-
ing about the most wretched and distressful streets
for a couple of hours in the evening searching for
some pictures I wanted to build upon I went at
it, at about ten o'clock. To say that the reading
that most astonishing and tremendous account
has constituted an epoch in my life that I shall
never forget the lightest word of it that I cannot
throw the impression aside, and never saw any-
thing so real, so touching, and so actually present
before my eyes, is nothing. I am husband and
wife, dead man and living woman, Emma and
General Dundas, doctor and bedstead everything
and everybody (but the Prussian officer damn
him) all in one. What I have always looked upon
36 A WEEK AT WATERLOO
as masterpieces of powerful and affecting descrip-
tion, seem as nothing in my eyes. If I live for
fifty years, I shall dream of it every now and then,
from this hour to the day of my death, with the
most frightful reality. The slightest mention of a
battle will bring the whole thing before me. I
shall never think of the Duke any more but as he
stood in his shirt with the officer in full-dress
uniform, or as he dismounted from his horse when
the gallant man was struck down. It is a striking
proof of the power of that most extraordinary man,
Defoe, that I seem to recognise in every line of the
narrative something of him. Has this occurred to
you ? The going to Waterloo with that uncon-
sciousness of everything in the road, but the
obstacles to getting on the shutting herself up in
her room and determining not to hear the not
going to the door when the knocking came the
finding out by her wild spirits when she heard he
was safe, how much she had feared when in doubt
and anxiety the desperate desire to move towards
him the whole description of the cottage, and its
condition ; and their daily shifts and contrivances,
and the lying down beside him in the bed and
both falling asleep; and his resolving not to serve
any more, but to live quietly thenceforth ; and her
f ,U>>..f* '
PART OF AN AUTOGRAPH LETTER OF CHARLES DICKENS.
[To face page 36.
INTRODUCTION 37
sorrow when she saw him eating with an appetite,
so soon before his death ; and his death itself all
these are matters of truth, which only that astonish-
ing creature, I think, could have told in fiction.
" Of all the beautiful and tender passages the
thinking every day how happy and blest she was
the decorating him for the dinner the standing
in the balcony at night and seeing the troops melt
away through the gate and the rejoining him on
his sick-bed I say not a word. They are God's
own, and should be sacred. But let me say again,
with an earnestness which pen and ink can no
more convey than toast and water, in thanking you
heartily for the perusal of this paper, that its
impression on me can never be told; that the
ground she travelled (which I know well) is holy
ground to me from this day; and that, please
Heaven, I will tread its every foot this very next
summer, to have the softened recollection of this
sad story on the very earth where it was acted.
"You won't smile at this, I know. When my
enthusiasms are awakened by such things, they
don't wear out. . . . Faithfully yours,
" CHARLES DICKENS." l
1 The complete letter will be found in Appendix A of this
volume.
38 A WEEK AT WATERLOO
Many literary and artistic masterpieces have
grouped themselves round Waterloo. One of the
most striking passages in Vanity Fair refers to an
imaginary incident in connection with the battle.
Sir Walter Scott once said that in the whole range
of English poetry there was nothing finer than the
stanzas in Childe Harold, commencing with the
line
" There was a sound of revelry by night,"
and ending with the words
" Rider and horse, friend, foe, in one red burial blent."
Tennyson's Ode on the Death of the Duke of
Wellington ranks as a funeral dirge with Lycidas
and Adonais. Napoleon's tomb in the Invalides
may hold its own almost with the Taj. Yet, when
all is said and done, the fact remains that no hero
of the battle, and indeed few victims of war, have
ever received a more touching memorial than the
one here set forth in the sight of all future
generations of men by the love and the literary
genius of Lady De Lancey.
B. K. WARD.
HALIFAX, N.S.,
April 1906.
;"
COLONEL SIR WILLIAM HOWE DE LANCEY (V. 1813).
[To face page 88.
A WEEK AT WATERLOO IN
1815
I ARRIVED at Brussels on Thursday, 8th June 1815,
and was much surprised at the peaceful appearance
of that town, and the whole country from Ostend.
We were billeted in the house of the Count de
Lannoy, in the Park, which is a square of very
beautiful houses with fine large trees in the centre.
The Count de Lannoy was very attentive, and we
had a suite of very excellent rooms, up four stories,
which is the fashion in that country, I believe. It
was amusing enough, sometimes, to see from our
windows the people parading in the Park. I saw
very little of the town, and still less of the inhabi-
tants ; for notwithstanding Sir William's belief that
we should remain quietly there for a month at least,
I have the comfort of remembering that, as there
was a chance we might separate in a few days, I
wasted no time in visiting or going to balls, which
39
40 A WEEK AT WATERLOO
I did not care for, and therefore I never went out,
except for an hour or two every afternoon, to walk
with Sir William.
The people in general dined between three and
four, we dined at six ; we walked while others were
at dinner, so that literally I never saw anybody,
except some gentlemen, two or three of whom
dined with us every day Sir William's friends,
whom he brought to introduce to me.
I never passed such a delightful time, for there
was always enough of very pleasant society to
keep us gay and merry, and the rest of the day
was spent in peaceful happiness.
Fortunately my husband had scarcely any busi-
ness to do, and he only went to the office for about
an hour every day. I then used to sit and think
with astonishment of my being transported into
such a scene of happiness, so perfect, so unalloyed !
feeling that I was entirely enjoying life not a
moment wasted. How active and how well I was !
I scarcely knew what to do with all my health and
spirits. Now and then a pang would cross my
mind at the prospect of the approaching campaign,
but I chased away the thought, resolved not to lose
BRUSSELS 41
the present bliss by dwelling on the chance of future
pain. Sir "William promised to let me know as
soon as he knew himself, everything concerning the
movement of the army; and accordingly he gave
me every paper to read, to keep my mind easy.
After some consideration, he decided that upon
the commencement of hostilities I should go to
Antwerp, and there remain till the end of the
campaign, which might last months. He wished
me not to think of going along with him, because
the rear of a great army was always dangerous, and
an unfit situation for a woman ; and he wished not
to draw me into any scenes, or near any danger,
more than if I had remained in England. He little
thought I should be in the midst of horrors I would
not pass again for any being now living ; and alas,
the cautious anxiety he expressed that I should
avoid being shocked, only made me feel more
desolate and miserable when I found myself in the
midst of most terrible scenes.
Several other officers, on hearing that he de-
signed to send me to Antwerp, fixed that their
wives should go there too. It is a very strongly
fortified town, and likewise having the sea to
42 A WEEK AT WATERLOO
escape by, if necessary, it was by far the safest
place; and being only twenty-five miles from
Brussels, it added so little to the time of hearing
from him, if separated, that I acquiesced cheerfully.
After this was arranged, we never thought more
about it, and enjoyed each hour as it passed with
no more anxiety than was sufficient to render time
precious.
On Wednesday the 14th, I had a little alarm in
the evening with some public papers, and Sir
William went out with them, but returned in a
short time ; and it passed by so completely, that
Thursday G) forenoon was the happiest day of my
life; but I cannot recollect a day of my short
married life that was not perfect. I shall never
get on if I begin to talk of what my happiness was ;
but I dread to enter on the gloomy past, which I
shudder to look back upon, and I often wonder I
survived it. We little dreamt that Thursday was
the last we were to pass together, and that the
storm would burst so soon. Sir William had to
dine at the Spanish Ambassador's/ 2 ' the first invita-
tion he had accepted from the time I went; he
was unwilling to go, and delayed and still delayed,
SUDDEN ALARM 43
till at last when near six, I fastened all his medals
and crosses on his coat, helped him to put it on,
and he went. (3) I watched at the window till he was
out of sight, and then I continued musing on my
happy fate; I thought over all that had passed,
and how grateful I felt ! I had no wish but that
this might continue ; I saw my husband loved and
respected by everyone, my life gliding on, like a
gay dream, in his care.
When I had remained at the window nearly an
hour, I saw an aide-de-camp ride under the gate-
way of our house. He sent to enquire where Sir
William was dining. I wrote down the name ; and
soon after I saw him gallop off in that direction. I
did not like this appearance, but I tried not to be
afraid. A few minutes after, I saw Sir William on
the same horse gallop past to the Duke's, (4) which
was a few doors beyond ours. He dismounted and
ran into the house left the horse in the middle
of the street. I must confess my courage failed
me now, and the succeeding two hours formed a
contrast to the happy forenoon.
About nine, (5) Sir William came in ; seeing my
wretched face, he bade me not be foolish, for it
44 A WEEK AT WATERLOO
would soon be all over now ; they expected a great
battle on the morrow ; he would send me to
Antwerp in the morning, and desired me to be
ready at six. He said that though he expected
it would be a decisive battle, and a conclusion of
the whole business, he thought it best I should
keep the plan of going to Antwerp, to avoid the
alarms that he knew would seize everyone the
moment the troops were gone ; and he said he
would probably join me there, or send for me
to return the same evening. He said he should
be writing all night, perhaps : he desired me to
prepare some strong green tea in case he came
in, as the violent exertion requisite to setting
the whole army in motion quite stupefied him
sometimes. He used sometimes to tell me that
whenever the operations began, if he thought for
five minutes on any other subject, he was neglect-
ing his duty. I therefore scrupulously avoided
asking him any questions, or indeed speaking at
all. (6) I moved up and down like one stupefied
myself.
He went to the office, and returned near twelve, (7)
much fatigued, but he did not attempt to sleep ; he
THE TROOPS DEPART 45
went twice to the Duke's ; the first time he found
him standing looking over a map with a Prussian
general, (8> who was in full-dress uniform with
orders and crosses, etc. the Duke was in his
chemise and slippers, preparing to dress for the
Duchess of Richmond's ball ; the two figures were
quite admirable. The ball took place notwith-
standing the reveille played through the streets the
whole night. Many of the officers danced, and
then marched (9) in the morning.
About two, Sir William went again to the
Duke, and he was sleeping sound ! At three the
troops were all assembled in the Park, and Sir
William and I leant over the window, seeing them
march off so few to return. It was a clear
refreshing morning, and the scene was very solemn
and melancholy. (10) The fifes played alone, and the
regiments one after another marched past, and I
saw (11) them melt away through the great gate at
the end of the Square. Shall I ever forget the
tunes played by the shrill fifes and the buglehorns
which disturbed that night !
At six in the morning, Friday the 16th, I went
to Antwerp : Sir William gave me a letter to
46 A WEEK AT WATERLOO
Captain Mitchell, in the Q.M.-General's depart-
ment, requesting him to take charge of me.
Accordingly, soon after we arrived I was settled in
very comfortable apartments. I was at first for an
hour in the inn, (12) and I lay down in a small back
room. In the evening I sent my maid from the
lodgings to get some wine at the inn; when
wandering in the passage to find some English
person, she opened the door of the room I had been
in, and saw the body (13) of the Duke of Brunswick
on the very bed.
I was fortunate enough to have a room at the
back, so shut in with buildings that I could not
hear any noise in the streets. Sir William had
made me promise to believe no reports, and not
upon any account to move without his written
order for it. I thought it was best not to listen to
any stories, so I told my maid Emma not to tell
me any, and to do her best to get no alarms
herself. Captain Mitchell I found of great service ;
he is a very sensible and seemingly good-hearted
man. There was a calmness in his manner which
was of infinite use to me when I could not entirely
get the better of fears but too well founded.
ANTWERP 47
Though he was afterwards oppressed with busi-
ness, night and day, he never failed to come to
me when he had heard any accounts he could
depend upon. But I may say I never saw so
much kindness, and softness indeed, as during that
miserable time.
The general and individual distress that rapidly
followed the battles then fought, seemed quite to
unman them ; and one grew accustomed to see men
weep, without their attempting to conceal it. The
same evening the Town Major, Machel, called. He
knew Sir William, and he brought a Mrs to
call. She very kindly asked me to go and visit her
in the country about a mile. I was much obliged
to her, but said I hoped to return to Brussels so
soon that I should not have time. She apologised
for Mr ; he would have called on me, but the
report I had brought of the marching of the troops
had given him a great deal of business. The town
was now very bustling, though when I arrived
there was nothing but quiet. Captain Mitchell
told me in the evening that the battle had taken
place ; that the English had gained a victory, but
he believed there was to be more fighting. He
48 A WEEK AT WATERLOO
promised to send me any letter, or if he heard
of Sir William. I sat up late, but none came.
On Saturday the 17th, Antwerp was truly a
scene of confusion by the servant's account, for
I would not stir out of my room. Not one of
the ladies who had intended to come to Antwerp
at first, kept their resolution ; and in conse-
quence they got a great alarm, which was what
my husband wished me to escape. There was a
battle fought on Friday the 16th, near Brussels,
and I was told the noise of the cannon was
tremendous the houses shook with it. It was
distinctly heard at Antwerp ; but I kept the
windows shut, and tried not to hear. I only
heard a rolling like the sea at a distance. (14) Poor
Emma, urged by curiosity, stood in the street
listening to terrible stories, seeing wounded men
brought in, carriages full of women and children
flying from Brussels, till she was completely
frightened. She came and told me that all the
ladies were hastening to England by sea, for the
French had taken Brussels. I saw I must take
my time to alarm her, and I said, " Well, Emma,
you know that if the French were firing at this
ALARM IN ANTWERP 49
%
house, I would not move till I was ordered ; but
you have no such duty, therefore go if you like.
I dare say any of the families will let you join
them."
Emma was shocked at my supposing she
would be so base as to desert me, and declared
that if she was sure she had to remain in a
French prison for five years, she would not
leave me. My reproof had all the effect I
intended ; for she brought me no more stories,
and I am certain she never was frightened after,
even when we were in far greater danger.
Though I had little reason to expect a letter
from my husband, I sat up late in hopes. At
midnight, what was my joy to get a little note
from him, written at Genappe, (15) after the battle
of the 16th. He said he was safe, and in great
spirits; they had given the French a tremendous
beating. I wrote to him every day, and Captain
Mitchell sent my letters, but they never reached
him.
On Sunday, Captain Mitchell told me he had
heard the last effort was to be made. I cannot
attempt to describe the restless unhappy state
G
50 A WEEK AT WATERLOO
I was in; for it had continued so much longer
than I had expected already, that I began to
find it difficult to keep up my spirits, though I
was infatuated enough to think it quite impos-
sible that he could be hurt. I believe mine was
not an uncommon case, but so it was. I might
be uneasy at the length of the separation, or
anxious to hear from him; but the possibility of
his being wounded never glanced into my mind,
till I was told he was killed.
On Sunday the 18th June, there was to be
a great battle. It began about eleven ; (16) near
three, (17) when Sir William was riding beside the
Duke, a cannon ball struck him on the back, at
the right shoulder, and knocked him off his
horse to several yards distance. The Duke at
first imagined he was killed; for he said after-
wards, he had never in all the fighting he had
ever been in seen a man rise again after such a
wound. Seeing he was alive (for he bounded
up again and then sank down), he ran to him,
and stooping down, took him by the hand. (18)
Sir William begged the Duke, as the last
favour he could have it in his power to do him,
THE BATTLEFIELD 51
to exert his authority to take away the crowd
that gathered round him, and to let him have
his last moments in peace to himself. The Duke
bade him farewell, and endeavoured to draw
away the Staff, who oppressed him ; they wanted
to take leave of him, and wondered at his calm-
ness. He was left, as they imagined, to die;
but his cousin, Delancey Barclay, (19) who had seen
him fall, went to him instantly, and tried to
prevail upon him to be removed to the rear, as
he was in imminent danger of being crushed by
the artillery, which was fast approaching the
spot; and also there was danger of his falling
into the hands of the enemy. He entreated to
be left on the ground, and said it was impossible
he could live ; that they might be of more use
to others, and he only begged to remain on the
field. But as he spoke with ease, and Colonel
Barclay saw that the ball had not entered, he
insisted on moving him, and he took the opinion
of a surgeon, who though the might live, and got
some soldiers to carry him in a blanket to a
barn (20) at the side of the road, a little to the rear.
The wound was dressed, and then Colonel Barclay
52 A WEEK AT WATERLOO
had to return to the Division ; but first he gave
orders to have Sir William moved to the village ; (21)
for that barn was in danger of being taken
possession of by the enemy. Before Colonel
Barclay went, Sir William begged him to come
quite close to him, and continued to give him
messages for me. Nothing else seemed to occupy
his mind. He desired him to write to me
at Antwerp; to say everything kind, and to
endeavour to soften this business, and to break
it to me as gently as he could. He then said
he might move him, as if he fancied it was to
be his last effort. He was carried to the village
of Waterloo, and left in a cottage, where he lay
unheeded all night, and part of next day. Many
of his friends were in the village, and no one
knew where he was, or that he was alive even.
It was by chance that an officer of the Staff
Corps found him next morning, and sent to
inform Sir George Scovell. (22) The evening before, (23)
the Duke had written the despatches, and
had inserted De Lancey as killed. Interest was
made that he should alter them, when he was
told that he had been carried off the field alive.
REPORTED SAFE 53
Some kindly thought this might benefit me; but
I was not so fortunate. Sad scenes were passing
at Antwerp in the meantime.
On Monday morning, Captain Mitchell, at
nine o'clock, came to tell me that the last battle
was over, and the French entirely defeated, and
that Sir William was safe. I asked him
repeatedly if he was sure, and if he had seen
any of his writing, or if he had heard from him.
He had not; but had read a list of the killed
and wounded, and could assure me his name was
not in it. Captain Mitchell was quite sincere ;
and was afterwards much grieved that he had
added to the accumulation of misery, for this
only made the dash down more severe. I now
found how much I had really feared by the
wild spirits I got into. I walked up and
down, for I could not rest, and was almost in
a fever with happiness, and for two hours this
went on.
At eleven a message came that Lady
Hamilton wished to see me. I went down to
the parlour, and found her and Mr James. I
did not remark anything in her countenance, but
54 A WEEK AT WATERLOO
I think I never saw feeling and compassion more
strongly marked than in his expression. I then
said I hoped Lady Emily was well. He answered
that she was so, with a tone of such misery
that I was afraid something had happened, I
knew not what, to somebody. I looked at
Lady Hamilton for an explanation. She seemed
a little agitated too, and I said, "One is so
selfish : I can attend to nothing, I am so rejoiced
Sir William is safe."
Mr James walked to the other end of the
room. I did not know what to do. I feared
that my gay voice grieved them, for I saw
something had made them unhappy. Little did
I think the blow was falling on my own
unfortunate head.
Lady Hamilton said, "Poor Mr James! He
has lost a brother and I a nephew. It was a
dreadful battle ! so many killed."
I thought it cruel of them to come to me
to tell all this to, when I was so merry; but
I tried to be polite, and again apologised for
appearing glad, on account of my own good
fortune.
LADY HAMILTON 55
Lady Hamilton said, "Did you hear from
him ? "
"No, but Captain Mitchell saw the list, and
his name was not in it."
Mr James went out of the room. Lady
Hamilton said, "He is gone to see it, I
suppose," and then began to talk about the list,
and what were the first names, and a great deal
about whether I had any friends in that country,
etc. She then asked what I intended to do
if the fighting continued, and if I should go
to England? I was a little surprised at these
enquiries, but assured her I would not move
until Sir William came or sent for me. She found
me so obstinately confident that she began 1 . . .
and after a short time a suspicion darted into
my mind. What a death-like feeling was that!
Lady Hamilton confessed she had written
the list, and with a most mistaken kindness had
omitted several of the names, Sir William's
among the rest. A general had come from the
field and named them ; and she, knowing I was
in the country, had left his out, fearing that I
1 Here there is a hiatus in the MS.
56 A WEEK AT WATERLOO
should be suddenly informed. But such in-
formation would not be otherwise than a shock
whatever way it was told, and the previous
account of his safety only tortured me the more.
But it is needless to dwell upon it now; and
though I believe she thinks I never forgave her,
I now recollect only the motive, which was kind.
My difficulty then was to find out, or rather
to believe the truth. She assured me he was
only wounded. I looked at her keenly, and
said, "Lady Hamilton, I can bear anything but
suspense. Let me know the very worst. Tell
me, is he killed?"
She then solemnly assured me he was only
desperately wounded.
I shook my head and said, "Ah, it is very
well to say so. Yes, he must be wounded first,
you know." And I walked round the room fast.
"Yes, yes, you say so, but I cannot believe
what you say now."
She was terrified, for I could not shed a
tear. She declared upon her word of honour
that when General Alava left the field he was
alive, but was not expected to live.
IMPATIENT TO GO 57
This I felt sounded like truth, and I stood
before her and said, " Well, Lady Hamilton, if it is
so, and you really wish to serve me, help me to go
to him instantly. I am sure Mr James will be
so good as to hurry the servant. Oh, how much
time has been lost already ! If Captain Mitchell
had but known, I should have gone at nine.
Every moment may make me too late to see him
alive."
She was glad to try to do anything for me,
and was going. I stopped her at the door, and
said, "Now, if you are deceiving me, you may
perhaps have my senses to answer for."
She repeated her assurances, and I said I
would send my servant for the carriage, which was
at the Town Major's, if she would see anybody
to get horses, and I was ready. She said she
would offer to go with me, but she knew it
would oppress me.
I said, "Oh no, let me be alone," and I
ran upstairs.
No power can describe my sufferings for
two hours before I could set out. Captain
Mitchell requested a friend of his to ride forward
58 A WEEK AT WATERLOO
to Brussels, and to gallop back with information
of where Sir William was, and whether it was
still of any avail for me to proceed : he was
expected to meet us at Malines, half-way. We
at last left Antwerp; but bribing the driver was
in vain. It was not in his power to proceed ;
for the moment we passed the gates, we were
entangled in a crowd of waggons, carts, horses,
wounded men, deserters or runaways, and all the
rabble and confusion, the consequence of several
battles. (24) Every now and then we went several
miles at a walk ; and the temper of the people
was so irritable that we feared to speak to
them ; and I had to caution my servant to be
very guarded, because they were ready to draw
their swords in a moment. Two men got on
the back of the carriage, and we dared not desire
them to get off; and this was no imaginary
terror, as I afterwards experienced.
When we were within a mile or two of
Malines, the carriage stopped, and the servant
said, "It is the Captain." I had drawn the
blinds to avoid seeing the wretched objects we
were passing. I hastily looked out, and saw
BACK TO ANTWERP 59
Mr Hay. (25) When he saw me he turned his head
away.
I called out, "Mr Hay, do you know any-
thing ? "
He hesitated, and then said, "I fear I have
very bad news for you."
I said, " Tell me at once. Is he dead ? "
"It is all over."
I sank into the carriage again, and they took
me back to Antwerp. When I had been a short
time there, Mr Hay sent to know if I had any
commands to Brussels, as he was going to return,
and would do anything for me there. At first I
said I had none, and then I sent for him, and
asked repeatedly if he were sure of what he said ;
if he had seen him fall. He had not been in the
action, (26) and of course was not near Sir William,
"who was surrounded by Lord Wellington's Staff;
but in the middle of the action he was struck in
the breast by a cannon ball, and instantly fell.
The Duke went and leant over him, and he died
like a soldier."
I then begged Mr Hay to make a point of
seeing someone who had been near him; and if
60 A WEEK AT WATERLOO
possible to learn if he had spoken, and if he had
named me. Mr Hay promised this, and then
asked if I would choose to go to England. I said :
"Instantly." He then said if he had twelve hours
to search the field once more for his brother
was missing he would be ready to take a passage
for me, and to accompany me if I chose. He said
Lady Hamilton and Mrs B. were below, anxious
to be of use.
I said I greatly preferred being alone, and
was always much better alone. About half an
hour after, Mrs B. contrived to get into the
room. I was terrified, and called out, "Go
away, go away, leave me to myself." She
prayed and entreated me to hear her, and then
said if I was ill would I send for her. I said,
" Oh, yes, yes ; but the only thing anybody can
do for me is to leave me alone." She was alarmed
at my violent agitation and went away. I locked
the outer door, and shut the inner one, so that
no one could again intrude. They sent Emma to
entreat I would be bled; but I was not reason-
able enough for that, and would not comply. I
wandered about the room incessantly, beseeching
GOOD NEWS 61
for mercy, though I felt that now, even Heaven
could not be merciful. One is apt to fix on a
situation just a little less wretched than one's own,
and to dwell upon the idea that one could bear
that better. I repeated over and over that if I
had seen him alive for five minutes, I would not
repine. At night Emma brought her bed into
my room, as she feared I should be ill. Towards
morning I fancied I heard a sound of someone
trying to get into the room. I heard it a long
while, but thinking it was somebody coming to
visit me, I made no answer.
About two hours after, the attempt was re-
peated. I said to Emma, "There is a noise at
the door. Don't let Mrs B. in, or Lady
Hamilton."
She went, and returning in a few minutes
said, "I am desired to tell you cautiously"
I said, "O Emma! go away. Don't tell me
anything, any more."
" Nay, but I must tell you. I have good news
for you."
" How can you be so inhuman ! What is good
news for me now ? "
62 A WEEK AT WATERLOO
"But Sir William is not dead."
I started up, and asked what she was saying,
for she would make me mad. She told me that
General M'Kenzie (27> was below, and had a message
from Brussels, requesting him to inform me that
Sir William was alive, and that there were even
hopes of his recovery.
I ran down to General M'Kenzie, and began
earnestly to persuade him it must be impos-
sible. I had suffered so much the day before,
I durst not hope for anything now. His voice
faltered, and his eyes filled with tears.
He said, "Can you believe any man would
bring such intelligence unless it were well-
founded?" He then gave me a letter from Sir
G. Scovell, who had seen an officer of the Staff
Corps who had seen Sir William alive that
morning, who was anxious to see me. He was
attended by a skilful surgeon, and had been
twice bled. This was dated Monday, seven
o'clock, evening.
I regretted the deal of time that had been
lost, and said that yesterday morning was a
long time ago ; and was no argument for his
INCREASED ANXIETY 63
being alive now; for it was often repeated in
the letter not to raise my hopes. I then asked
General M'Kenzie to assist me to get away.
Unfortunately I did not say I had a carriage. He
said he was going to Brussels, and would take
me. I consented, and he went to get ready. I
would not if I could, describe the state I was
in for two hours more ; then I lost all self-
command. I would not allow Emma to put up
my clothes, for fear of being detained. My agita-
tion and anxiety increased. I had the dreadful
idea haunting me that I should arrive perhaps
half an hour too late. This got the better of me,
and I paced backward and forward in the parlour
very fast, and my breathing was like screaming.
I went into the passage, and sent Emma to see
if the carriage were coming ; and then sat down
on the stair, which was steep and dark. There
General M'Kenzie found me. Whenever he
learnt I had a carriage, he sent the horses he
had ; for his carriage was not ready, and would
not be for some time. When he saw what a
state I was in, he roused me in a most sensible
manner.
64 A WEEK AT WATERLOO
He said, "Lady De Lancey, consider what
you are doing. You are exhausting your strength
and spirits to no purpose, for your friends are
endeavouring to forward your departure as soon
as possible."
I exclaimed, "Oh, I shall never be there.
He may be dying at this moment."
He took my hand, and said calmly and
firmly, "My dear madam, why fancy evil? You
know what dreadful scenes you may have to go
through when you reach Waterloo. You will
probably require all your courage, and must com-
mand yourself for his sake."
I said no more, but quietly went to the
parlour and remained waiting such an immediate
effect had his steady good sense on my fevered
mind. I overheard him say, "No, do not at
present; she is not fit for it." I was alarmed,
and ran out ; but I saw a lady retreating, and I
was grateful to him.
We left Antwerp between eight and nine, and
had the same difficulties to encounter ; but the road
was not quite so much blocked up. General
M'Kenzie said he would ride after us in an
A PRUSSIAN OFFICER 65
hour, in case we should be detained; he also sent
a dragoon before, to order horses. When we were
near Vilvorde, the driver attempted to pass a
waggon, but the soldier who rode beside it would
not move one inch to let us pass. The waggons
kept possession of the chaussee the whole way,
and we had to drive on the heavy road at the
side. My servant got off the seat to endeavour
to lead the horses past. This provoked the
soldier, and a dispute began. I was alarmed,
and desired the servant to get upon the carriage
again, which he did. A Prussian officer, enraged
at our attempting to pass the waggon he was
guarding, drew his sword, and made several cuts
at the servant's legs, but did not reach him. He
was preparing to get down again, but I looked
from the opposite window and commanded him
to sit still, and not to answer a word; or else
to quit the carriage altogether. The driver now
made a dash past the waggon, and the officer
galloped after us and attempted to wound the
horses. This made me desperate, and I ventured
on a most imprudent action. I drew up the
blind, and holding up my hands, I petitioned him
66 A WEEK AT WATERLOO
to let us pass. I exclaimed that my husband, a
British officer, was dying, and if he detained me I
might not see him. It had the desired effect, for
without seeming to have heard me, he slackened
his pace and was soon far behind.
When within ten miles of Brussels, the smell
of gunpowder was very perceptible. The heat was
oppressive. As we came within a mile of Brussels,
the multitude of wretched - looking people was
great, as Emma told me, for I was both unwilling
and unable to look out. I was so much worn
with anxiety that I could scarcely sit up. As we
entered Brussels the carriage stopped, and I saw
Mr Hay. I durst not speak, but he instantly
said, " He is alive. I sent my servant to Waterloo
this morning ; he is just returned, and Sir William is
better than they expected. I have horses standing
harnessed, and you will soon be there if the road is
passable, though it was not yesterday, for a horse."
We were soon out of Brussels again, and on
the road to Waterloo. It is nine miles, and we took
three hours and a half. Mr Hay rode before us with
his sword drawn, and obliged them to let us pass.
We often stood still for ten minutes. The horses
STILL ALIVE 67
screamed at the smell of corruption, which in many
places was offensive. At last, when near the
village, Mr Hay said he would ride forward and
find the house, and learn whether I should still
proceed or not. I hope no one will ever be able
to say they can understand what my feelings must
have been during the half-hour that passed till he
returned. How fervently and sincerely I resolved
that if I saw him alive for one hour I never would
repine ! I had almost lost my recollection, with
the excess of anxiety and suspense, when Mr Hay
called out, "All's well; I have seen him. He
expects you."
When we got to the village, Sir G. Scovell met
the carriage, and opening the door, said, "Stop
one moment."
I said, " Is he alive ? "
"Yes, alive; and the surgeons are of opinion
that he may recover. We are so grieved for
what you have suffered."
"Oh! never mind what I have suffered. Let
me go to him now."
He said I must wait one moment. I assured
him I was composed indeed.
68 A WEEK AT WATERLOO
He said, " I see you are," with a smile, " but I
wish to warn you of one thing. You must be
aware that his life hangs on a very slender hold ;
and therefore any agitation would be injurious.
Now, we have not told him you had heard of his
death ; we thought it would afflict him ; therefore
do not appear to have heard it."
I promised, and he said, " Now come along."
I sat down for an instant in the outer room, and he
went in; and when I heard my husband say,
"Let her come in, then," I was overpaid for all the
misery.
I was surprised at the strength of his voice, for
I had expected to find him weak and dying.
When I went into the room where he lay, he held
out his hand and said, " Come, Magdalene, this is
a sad business, is it not ? " I could not speak, but
sat down by him and took his hand. This was my
occupation for six days.
Though I found him far better than I expected,
I can scarcely say whether I hoped or feared most
at first; because I was so much occupied with
gathering comforts about him, and helping him,
that I had not time to think about the future. It
THE MEETING 69
was a dreadful but sufficient preparation, being
told of his death ; and then finding him alive, I was
ready to bear whatever might ensue without a
murmur. I was so grateful for seeing him once
more, that I valued each hour as it passed, and as
I had too much reason to fear that I should very
soon have nothing left of happiness but what my
reflections would afford me, I endeavoured, by
suppressing feelings that would have made him
miserable, and myself unfit to serve him, to lay up
no store of regret. He asked me if I was a good
nurse. I told him that I had not been much tried.
He said he was sure he would be a good patient,
for he would do whatever I bade him till he was
convalescent; and then he knew he would grow
very cross. I watched in vain for a cross word.
All his endeavour seemed to be to leave none but
pleasing impressions on my mind ; and as he grew
worse and suffered more, his smile was more sweet,
and his thanks more fervent, for everything that
was done for him.
I endeavoured to find out from the surgeons
the extent of the danger. They said that at present
there were no bad symptoms, and after seeing him
70 A WEEK AT WATERLOO
alive at all after such a wound they would not
despair : and if the fever could be kept off, there
was a great chance of his recovering. With this
view they wished to bleed him constantly ; wishing
also thereby to make the recovery more complete.
I knew they had no interest in me, and therefore
would probably tell me the same as other people,
so I continued to ask them after every visit what
they thought ; but when by watching the symptoms
myself and also observing the surgeon's expression,
I saw what I must soon prepare for, I did not
tease them any more with questions, but tried not
to give way, and endeavoured to keep up as long
as it would be of consequence to him ; for even
after all hope was gone and the disorder increased
rapidly, I felt that if by agitating him I should
afterwards imagine I had shortened his life by one
hour, that reflection would embitter my whole life.
I have the satisfaction of knowing that I succeeded
even better than I could have hoped ; for toward
the end of the week, when every symptom was
bad, the surgeon (probably because I desisted from
enquiring and did not appear agitated) doubtful
what I thought, yet, judging it right to tell me,
EMMA 71
asked Emma if she knew whether I was aware of
the danger or not. She assured him I had entirely
given up hope for some time.
I found Emma of great service. Her good will
carried her through excessive fatigue while at
Waterloo ; and afterwards her excellent heart and
superior judgment were quite a blessing to me.
She told me she was thankful she had been at
Waterloo, for it would do her good to see a little
of what other people endured. She never before
knew half the value of her peaceful, comfortable
home in London, where the absence of miserable
objects might alone be considered as a benefit. I
can hardly express what I felt on returning to
England, to see people surrounded with every
luxury unhappy at the want of the smallest
comfort. I can fancy no better cure for all
imaginary evils than a week's residence at
Waterloo.
Noise did not disturb Sir William, fortunately,
for the cottage was surrounded with roads. (28) One
in front led to Nivelle.s, and every waggon going
to and from the army, and all the wounded and
prisoners, passed along that road. It was paved,
72 A WEEK AT WATERLOO
and there was an unceasing noise for four days
and nights. "We were obliged to keep the
windows open, and people used to pass close to
that in his room, talking loud, and sometimes
looking in and speaking ; but he never took any
notice. I never saw anybody so patient. The
people to whom the cottage belonged were, luckily,
favourable to our cause, or they would have
tormented us a good deal; instead of which, I
never met with such good nature; and though
they never rested one moment helping the soldiers
to water, and were constantly worn out with
giving them assistance, we had only to tell them
what to do, and they ran about to work for us.
Their menage, I must allow, was in a sad state. (29)
There was a want of everything. I could not
help thinking with envy of the troublesome
abundance I had often seen in sick-rooms,
when there was far less need for it. However,
in a short time we got everything he re-
quired; and I have the greatest comfort in
recollecting that there was not one thing which
he expressed a wish for that we did not procure.
I sent a servant instantly to Brussels with a
SUFFERINGS 73
list of things we wanted ; and once I recollect
something was brought which he had been very
anxious for. Naturally enough, he was dis-
appointed when he found it not so good as he
expected; but I was quite struck with his
endeavour to praise it, for fear I should be
sorry. There was a languid melancholy about
him at the same time that he was calm and
resigned, which would have made the most
uninterested person grieved to see him suffering,
and with such sweetness. Emma once gave him
some drink, and she told me that the tone of
voice and his smile when he thanked her, was
like to break her heart, for he was in severe
pain at the time.
He said the wound gave him no pain at all,
but a little irritating cough caused excessive pain
in his chest and side. As far as I could learn,
the blow had affected the lungs, which produced
inflammation and afterwards water in the chest,
w r hich was eventually the cause of his death. I
suspect the surgeons had never much hope, but
they said there was a chance if the inflammation
could have been stopped. By constantly watch-
K
74 A WEEK AT WATERLOO
ing him, and gradually day after day observing
the progress and increase of suffering and the
elevated tone of his mind, along with fatigue
and weakness, I was prepared for his final
release in a manner that nothing but his firmness
and composure could have effected.
He had at first been laid in the outer room,
which had two large windows to the road, and
everyone saw in. This he did not like, and he
made the people move him to a small room,
about seven feet wide, with a bed across the
end of it. They placed him so low and
awkwardly in the bed, that when I first went in
I thought his legs were hurt, for he could not
straighten his knees. After a day or two, he got
shoved up by degrees, and then could stretch his
limbs. The bed was wretched, merely a wooden
frame fastened to the wall, so that it could not be
moved, which rendered it extremely difficult to
bleed him, or to assist him in any way, as he
could neither turn nor raise his head an inch
from the pillow, or rather sack of chaff, upon
which he was laid. This was so full of dust
that it made him cough. I soon removed it, and
WRETCHED QUARTERS 75
got a cushion out of the carriage instead. We
had a clean blanket from Brussels, and at first
we put clean sheets on every day. But latterly
he grew so restless that he preferred having only
the blanket. I had purposely sent for a French
cotton one, as I thought the flannel would tease
him. The bed was made tolerable at least, and
though I could not be pleased with it, lie was.
He repeated more than once, "What a thing it
was for you being in this country ! " and I had
the delight of hearing him say that he did not
know what he would have done without me.
He said he was sure he would not have lived so
long, for he would not have been so obedient to
anyone else.
I found he had been the worse of seeing
some friends who had called the first day I was
at Waterloo, so I told the servant afterwards
never to let anybody come into his room. I
remember one day an officer called, and before
he was out of sight I had his card converted
into a teaspoon. Sir William never ate anything,
except once or twice a morsel of toast out of
the water. He drank a great deal of tea and
76 A WEEK AT WATERLOO
lemonade. At first he had no milk to his tea,
and he complained that it was very bad; but
there was none to be got. I sent my servant to
search for some, and he met some Prussian cows,
and milked one, and brought a fine jug of milk.
The different contrivances sometimes amused
him. One day he wished to have the room
fumigated. How was this to be done, without
fire-irons, or indeed without fire ? We put some
vinegar into a tumbler, and Emma went with a large
pair of scissors, and brought a piece of burning
charcoal, and put it into the vinegar, and that
made a great smoke. Every time we wanted
anything warmed, or water boiled, Emma had to
cross a court and make a fire, and then watch
it, or someone would have run away with what
she was cooking. Meantime I would call her
ten different times, and this in wet or dry, night
or day. I now regretted having brought so few
clothes.
The day I went to Waterloo, Sir William told
me the Duke (30) had visited him in the morning.
He said he never had seen him so warm in his
feelings : he had taken leave of him with little hope
THE DUKE'S VISIT 77
of seeing him again, I fancy. The Duke told him
he never wished to see another battle ; this had
been so shocking. It had been too much to see
such brave men, so equally matched, cutting (31) each
other to pieces as they did. Sir William said there
never had been such fighting ; that the Duke far
surpassed anything he had ever done before. (32) The
general opinion seemed to be that it had been a
peculiarly shocking battle. Sir William said he
never would try it again; he was quite tired of
the business. In speaking of his wound he said
this might be the most fortunate event that could
have happened for us both. I looked at him for
an explanation. He said, "Certainly, even if I
recover completely, I should never think of
serving again. Nobody could ask such a thing,
and we should settle down quietly at home for the
rest of our lives." The evening after I went to
Waterloo, Sir G. Scovell said he would take some-
thing to eat, and after seeing me fairly estab-
lished he would go to Headquarters. He wrote a
copy of a return of rations, for which we were to
send to Brussels ; and also any other provisions must
be got from thence, for the village produced nothing.
78 A WEEK AT WATERLOO
He left two sentinels, for fear there should be any
disturbances, and we might feel unprotected. One
night there was a great noise of people quarrelling
in front of the house ; the windows had no fasten-
ing whatever, but they passed away without molest-
ing us. I was a little more seriously alarmed
another day. Some reports had reached us that the
French were coming back, and were within nine
miles. I thought it unlikely, but about eight in
the morning all the waggons that had passed for
two hours came back as fast as possible, horses
trotting and men running. I was uneasy on Sir
William's account: his situation was so helpless.
I leant forward, to prevent people looking in and
seeing him. I waited without saying anything, to
learn the cause of this bustle. I found afterwards
that it was merely the waggons had gone several
miles on the wrong road, and were hurrying back
to make it up. (33)
From the time Sir G. Scovell left us, we scarcely
saw anybody but the surgeons. It must add very
much to the fatigue of their business, having to do
everything for the wounded whom they attend.
Mr Powell, (34) who attended most constantly to Sir
EARLY SYMPTOMS 79
William, and with evidently great anxiety for his
recovery, was sometimes quite knocked up with
walking many miles on the heavy road to the field
and the cottages. He had some difficulty to con-
sider me as a useful person. At first he used to
ask me to tell the servant to come ; but he learnt
to employ me very soon.
The night I went, Sir William desired me to
take some rest, for I looked ill. A portmanteau
bed had been brought for me from Brussels. I left
him reluctantly, for I grudged wasting any of such
precious time, but he would not hear of my sitting
up. I had just lain down with my clothes on for
there was no blanket, and the floor was damp tiles.
I heard him call to his servant, who slept at the
end of his room on a mattress. I jumped up and
went to him, and did not leave him again. He
wanted some drink, which I gave him, and then sat
down beside him. He slept and woke every half-
hour. He was not restless, nor had he any pain,
but he was constantly thirsty.
On Wednesday he wished to have leeches
applied to his side, where the bruise appeared.
Mr Powell had no objection, and desired me to
80 A WEEK AT WATERLOO
send for him when the leeches were brought from
Brussels. I did so; but in the meantime, not
knowing why he was sent for, I began as a matter
of course to apply them. When he came, he
apologised, and thanked me. I was not at first
aware of how I was obliging him. He said he was
very tired, and when he attempted to fix the
leeches, he did not do it so well as I did. Next
time they were to be applied, I asked if I should
send for him. He said I was as good at it as
any hospital nurse could be, and as he had scarcely
had an hour's rest any night since the battle, he
would be greatly obliged to me if I would take the
trouble. Sir William alleged that I grew quite vain
of my skill in tormenting my poor husband with these
animals. The same day Dr Hume (35) called in pass-
ing to Brussels, for ten minutes. I was a little
provoked at the gaiety of his manner ; the gravity
he assumed at Brussels would have been suitable
to the present scene. Though Sir William never
complained, he was serious, and seemed inclined to
be quiet, and neither to speak much nor to listen.
He generally lay thinking, often conversed with
me, but seemed oppressed with general conversa-
DR HUME'S VISIT 81
tion, and would not listen when anyone told him of
the progress of the army. His thoughts were in a
very different train. Dr Hume's rapid, lively visit
annoyed me much.
I did not feel the effects of having sat up on
Tuesday night till next night, but was resolved to
fight against it. Sir William desired me to go to
rest, as he had done the night before ; but I only
remained away till I had an excuse to return, and
he always forgot a second time to bid me go. This
was the only night I had real difficulty to keep
awake ; the noise of the carts assisted me a little.
I counted the rushes of the chair, for want of
occupation. Some people said, why did I not let
my maid sit up; but that showed they did not
understand; for if twenty people had sat up, it
would have made no difference to me. I frequently
rejoiced that I had no friend there who could
exert authority to make me take care of myself,
when my only wish was to keep up as long as he
needed me.
On Thursday he was not quite so well. Before
this he had been making a gradual progress, and
he could move about with more ease. He spoke
82 A WEEK AT WATERLOO
much better than he did at first. His countenance
was animated ; but I fear this was the beginning of
the most dangerous symptoms, and I saw that
the surgeon now became uneasy at the appearance
of the blood ; and Mr Woolriche, (36) a very eminent
surgeon, now constantly attended. He had come
over once or twice before. General Dundas (37) called
this forenoon. He stayed only a minute, as Sir
William was not so well, and I was busy. After he
was away, I recollected having neglected to ask him
to send a blanket and some wine. I never had
time to eat, and I always forgot to get wine as I
could take a glass of that and a bit of bread in a
moment and my strength was failing. I looked
out and saw him still at the door. I went out, and
there were a number of people, Sir H. D.
Hamilton, (38) etc. I told General Dundas I had
no blanket. "Bless me!" everyone exclaimed,
"no blanket!" I said it was not of much con-
sequence, as I never lay down, but the floor was
so damp I was afraid my maid would be ill, and
her help was very essential. I then asked for
wine, both of which General Dundas sent down
next day.
SERIOUS SYMPTOMS 83
That night I had no difficulty in keeping awake.
Sir William was restless and uncomfortable; his
breathing was oppressed, and I had constantly
to raise him on the pillow. The pain in his
chest increased, and he was twice bled before
morning. He was very much better on Friday
forenoon. Mr Woolriche told us that every day
since the battle the people of Brussels sent down
carriages to take the wounded to the hospital ;
from twenty to thirty private carriages came
every day.
On Friday evening Sir William was very
feverish, and the appearance of the blood was
very inflammatory. I had learnt now to judge
for myself, as Mr Powell, seeing how anxious I
was, sometimes had the kindness to give me
a little instruction. About ten at night Mr
Powell and Mr Woolriche came. "While I
told them how Sir William had been since
their last visit, and mentioned several circum-
stances that had occurred, I watched them and
saw they looked at each other. I guessed their
thoughts. I turned away to the window and
wept.
84 A WEEK AT WATERLOO
They remained a little time, and I recovered
myself enough to speak to 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
THE DOCTOR'S WARNING 85
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 sleep-
ing. 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,
86 A WEEK AT WATERLOO
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 every-
thing. 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
PEACEFUL FEELINGS 87
thinking about it, when he awoke and held out his
hand for me to take my usual station by his bed-
side. 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
88 A WEEK AT WATERLOO
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 possi-
bility 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 after-
noon; 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
DR HUME AGAIN 89
said, "Magdalene, love, General Dundas." I
answered, "I wrote to him this morning," and
nothing more passed. ^
Late in the evening, wnen 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
M
90 A WEEK AT WATERLOO
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 de-
pended 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
DOCTORS' ADVICE 91
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 con-
sequence, 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
92 A WEEK AT WATERLOO
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
GENERAL DUNDAS 93
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
94 A WEEK AT WATERLOO
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 un-
opened 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."
INCREASED SUFFERING 95
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 toler-
able 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
96 A WEEK AT WATERLOO
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 faint-
ing. 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
THE LAST MORNING 97
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
N
98 A WEEK AT WATERLOO
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 some-
thing 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
THE FINAL SCENE 99
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 some-
thing 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.
100 A WEEK AT WATERLOO
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 re-
mained 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
PLACE OF REST 101
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 Ke-
formed (S9) 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 particu-
larly 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
103
104 NOTES
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 Pare 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 Pare.
(5) By 9 P.M. thejlrst 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 destina-
tion ; 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.
NOTES 105
" ' 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
Bliicher's order for Bulow's corps to unite with the rest of his
army, being entrusted to a corporal, probably wanting in intelli-
gence, he did not deliver it in time, whereby that corps, 30,000
strong, failed to reach Ligny and share in the battle." l
(6) "I entreated to remain in the room with him, promising
not to speak. He wrote for several hours without any interrup-
tion but the entrance and departure of the various messengers
1 " Recollections of Waterloo," by a Staff Officer, in United Service
Journal for 1847, Part III., p. 3.
106 NOTES
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 Muffling, 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 com-
menced 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 pub-
lished in the XIX th 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 knap-
NOTES 107
sacks 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 Roy ale. Many of the soldiers' wives marched out with
their husbands to the field, and I saw one young English lady
mounted 011 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
Roy ale and the Pare, 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.)
(11) "I stood with my husband at a window of the house,
which overlooked a gate of the city, and saw the whole army
go out. Regiment after regiment passed through and melted
away in the mist of the morning." Abridged Narrative.
(12) "Le Grand Laboureur."
108 NOTES
(13) The Duke's corpse did not arrive at Antwerp till
Saturday afternoon. See Mrs Eaton's Waterloo Days, p. 59.
(14) "I went to Antwerp, and found the hotel there so
crowded, that I could only obtain one small room for my maid
and myself, and it was at the top of the house. I remained
entirely within, and desired my maid not to tell me what she
might hear in the hotel respecting the army. On the 18th,
however, I could not avoid the conviction that the battle was
going on ; the anxious faces in the street, the frequent
messengers I saw passing by, were sufficient proof that impor-
tant intelligence was expected, and as I sat at the open window
I heard the firing of artillery, like the distant roaring of the sea,
as I had so often heard it at Dunglass. How the contrast of
my former tranquil life there was pressed upon me at that
moment ! " Abridged Narrative.
Southey, the poet, says that the firing of the 16th was heard
at Antwerp, but not that of the 18th. It is an extraordinary
but indisputable fact that the firing at Waterloo was heard in
England. The Kentish Gazette of Tuesday, 20th June 1815 (pub-
lished therefore before any one in England, not even Nathan
Rothschild himself, was aware that there had been a battle fought
at Waterloo), contained the following piece of news from Rams-
gate : " A heavy and incessant firing was heard from this coast 011
Sunday evening in the direction of Dunkirk." Dunkirk lies in
nearly a straight line between Waterloo and the coast of Kent.
What makes the matter still more extraordinary is the fact that
Colville's Division, which, on the 18th, was posted in front of
Hal, about ten miles to the west of the battlefield, never heard
a sound of the firing, and did not know till midnight that any
battle had taken place.
NOTES 109
(15) Wellington's headquarters on the night of the 16th
June were at Genappe, two or three miles to the rear of the
battlefield of Quatre Bras. He slept at the Roi d'Espagne.
Bliicher occupied the same inn on the night of the 18th.
(16) The battle began about 11.35, though Wellington
in his despatch states that it began about 10. Napoleon's
bulletin fixes noon as the time. Marshal Ney said that it began
at 1 o'clock. It is clear they did not all look at their watches.
(17) De Lancey is supposed to have been struck about the
time when the French batteries opened a fierce cannonade on
the English centre, preparatory to the first of their tremendous
cavalry attacks. This would make the hour nearer 4 o'clock
than 3.
He fell not far from the Wellington Tree, and close to the
famous ckemin creux of Victor Hugo, in the immediate rear of
which Ompteda's brigade of the King's German Legion was
posted. The appearance of the spot is now entirely altered.
The tree was cut down in 1818, and all the soil of the elevated
ground on the south side of the chendn creux was carted away to
make the Belgian Lion Mound about 1825. A steam tramway
now runs by the place.
For a sketch of the celebrated tree, with Napoleon's guide,
De Coster, in the foreground, see Captain Arthur Gore's Explana-
tory Notes on the Battle of Waterloo } 1817 ; and for another view
of the ragged old tree as it appeared the day before it was cut
down, see Illustrated London Neivs, 27th November 1852.
The map which faces page 110 is adapted from the plan of
the battlefield of Waterloo, drawn in 1816, by W. B. Craan,
Surveying Engineer of Brabant.
The troops are shown in the positions occupied by them at
11 o'clock, A.M., just before the opening of the battle.
110 NOTES
On the map will be seen the position of the Wellington
Tree, also the farm and village of Mont St Jean, to which
village it is supposed Sir William De Lancey was carried, after
he had received the fatal blow.
The village of Waterloo is outside the map, some two miles
to the north.
"The Duke had no fixed station throughout the day, and
did not remain at this tree for more than three or four minutes
at any one time. He frequently rode to it to observe the
advance of the columns of attack. A deep dip in the main
road prevented his going beyond it without a detour to the rear.
It was here also that, the Duke having galloped up with the
staff and using his glass to observe the enemy's movements,
poor Colonel De Lancey by his side was struck by a heavy
shot which slanted off without breaking either his skin or even
his coat, but all the ribs of the left side were separated from the
back." Siborne's Waterloo Correspondence, vol. i., p. 51.
Sir Walter Scott has the following interesting passage in
the Seventh of his Paul's Letters to his Kinsfolk. After a
reference to the British army taking up its position on the
field of Waterloo the night before the battle, he thus continues :
"The Duke had caused a plan of this and other military
positions in the neighbourhood of Brussels, to be made
some time before by Colonel Carmichael Smyth, the chief
engineer. He now called for that sketch, and with the
assistance of the regretted Sir William De Lancey and Colonel
Smyth, made his dispositions for the momentous events of next
day. The plan itself, a relique so precious, was rendered yet
more so by being found in the breast of Sir William De
Lancey 's coat when he fell, and stained with the blood of
that gallant officer. It is now in the careful preservation
Position of Be /y ion Lion Mounct
Infantry t~~] Cava/ry
[To face pa.ge 110.
NOTES 111
of Colonel Carmichael Smyth, by whom it was originally
sketched."
For an account of Colonel Sir James Carmichael Smyth,
Commanding Royal Engineer on the Staff of the Duke of
Wellington, see Dictionary of National Biography, vol. liii., p. 185.
Major John Oldfield, Brigade-Major, R.E., gives the follow-
ing particulars about this map, which is reproduced opposite
page 565 of vol. i. of C. D. Yonge's Life of Field-Marshal the
Duke of Wellington.
" Shortly after my chief Colonel Smyth had joined head-
quarters (this was on the 16th), he sent in to me, at Brussels,
for the plan of the position of Waterloo, which had been
previously reconnoitred. The several sketches of the officers
had been put together, and one fair copy made for the Prince
of Orange. A second had been commenced in the drawing-
room for the Duke, but was not in a state to send ; I therefore
forwarded the original sketches of the officers.
"Morning of the 17th. Upon my joining Colonel Smyth,
he desired me to receive from Lieutenant Waters the plan of
the position, which, according to his desire, I had sent to him
from Brussels the preceding day, and of which I was told to
take the greatest care. It had been lost in one of the charges
of the French cavalry, and recovered. Lieutenant Waters,
who had it in his cloak before his saddle (or in his sabretasche
attached to his saddle, I forget which), was unhorsed in the
melee and ridden over. Upon recovering himself, he found the
cavalry had passed him, and his horse was nowhere to be seen.
He felt alarmed for the loss of his plan. To look for his horse,
he imagined, was in vain, and his only care was to avoid being
taken prisoner, which he hoped to do by keeping well towards
our right. The enemy being repulsed in his charge was
112 NOTES
returning by the left to the ground by which he had advanced.
After proceeding about fifty yards, he was delighted to find his
horse quietly destroying the vegetables in a garden near the
farmhouse at Quatre Bras. He thus fortunately recovered his
plan, and with it rejoined the Colonel. The retreat of the
Prussians upon Wavre rendered it necessary for the Duke to
make a corresponding movement, and upon the receipt of a
communication from Blucher, he called Colonel Smyth and
asked him for his plan of the position of Waterloo, which I
immediately handed to him. The Duke then gave directions
to Sir William De Lancey to put the army in position at
Waterloo, forming them across the Nivelles and Charleroi
chaussees." Porter's History of the Corps of Royal Engineers,
vol. i., p. 380. See also Ropes' Waterloo, p. 296.
(18) "He was able to speak in a short time after the fall,
and when the Duke of Wellington took his hand and asked
how he felt, he begged to be taken from the crowd that he
might die in peace, and gave a message to me." Abridged
Narrative.
(19) Captain and Lieutenant-Colonel Delancey Barclay, 1st
Foot Guards. See Army List for 1815, pp. 30 and 145, also
Waterloo Roll Call, p. 30.
(20) Probably a barn at the farm of Mont St Jean, about
700 yards north of the Wellington Tree.
(21) Doubtless the village of Mont St Jean, the village of
Waterloo being two miles further north.
When Miss Waldie (afterwards Mrs Eaton see Dictionary of
National Biography, vol. lix., p. 26) went to Waterloo on the 15th
July, she noticed the name of Sir William De Lancey written in
NOTES 113
chalk on the door of a cottage, where he had slept the night
before the battle. (Waterloo Days, p. 125.) The sketch on the
opposite page is reproduced from Sketches in Flanders and Holland f
by Robert Hills, 1816, and shows the village of Mont St Jean,
as it appeared a month after the battle. The figures in the
foreground represent villagers returning from the battlefield
with cuirasses, brass eagles, bullets, etc., which they had picked
up.
(22) See Waterloo Roll Call, p. 35, and A rmy List for 1815,
p. 31.
(23) The Duke began the Waterloo despatch very early on
the 19th at Waterloo, but he finished it at Brussels, that same
morning.
(24) I.e., not only Waterloo, but Ligny, Quatre Bras, and
the fighting that took place on the 15th and 17th June.
(25) Mr Williajn Hay of Duns Castle. He had been in the
16th Light Dragoons in the Peninsular War (see Army List for
1811, p. 89), and had come over from England a few days
before to see his old friends, and introduce his young brother,
Cornet Alexander Hay, to his old regiment.
(26) Mr Hay was on the battlefield during the early part of
the fight. Early next morning he revisited the field, to try to
find some trace of his brother. The body was never found.
He had been killed late at night on the French position, while
the 16th Light Dragoons were in pursuit of the enemy.
(Tomkinson's Diary of a Cavalry Officer, 1809-1815, p. 314; also
Reminiscences, 1808-1815, under Wellington, by Captain William
Hay, C.B.) There is a memorial tablet to him in the church at
Waterloo, with the following inscription :
" Sacred to the memory of Alexander Hay, Esq., of Nunraw,
P
114 NOTES
Cornet in the 16th Light Dragoons, aged 18 years, who fell
gloriously in the Memorable Battle of Waterloo, June 18, 1815.
dolor atque decus magnum . . .
H cec te prima dies bello dedit, kcec eadem aufert.
This tablet was placed here by his Brothers and Sisters."
(27) No doubt Lieutenant-General John Mackenzie who was
in command at Antwerp. He succeeded Sir Colin Halkett in
that post. See Army List for 1815, p. 8.
(28) Another indication that it was in the village of Mont
St Jean and not Waterloo.
(29) " One of the most painful visits I ever paid was to a
little wretched cottage at the end of the village which was
pointed out to me as the place where De Lancey was lying
mortally wounded. How wholly shocked I was on entering, to
find Lady De Lancey seated on the only broken chair the hovel
contained, by the side of her dying husband. I made myself
known. She grasped me by the hand, and pointed to poor
De Lancey covered with his coat, and with just a spark of life
left." Reminiscences, etc., by Captain William Hay, C.B., p. 202.
(30) Creevey states that as he was on his way from Brussels
to Waterloo on Tuesday the 20th June, the Duke overtook him
and said he was going to see Sir Frederick Ponsonby and De
Lancey. The Duke was in plain clothes and riding in a curricle
with Colonel Felton Hervey. The Creevey Papers, p. 238.
(31) Probably the Duke had in his mind the charge of
Lord Edward Somerset's Household Brigade against the French
Cuirassiers, which took place about 2 o'clock. Alava, in his
report to the Spanish Government, calls it "the most
sanguinary cavalry fight perhaps ever witnessed."
NOTES 115
(32) This was the general opinion at the time. Four days
after the battle an officer in the 3rd Battalion of the 1st Foot
Guards wrote as follows : " I constantly saw the noble Duke of
Wellington riding backwards and forwards like the Genius of
the storm, who, borne upon its wings, directed its thunder where
to break. He was everywhere to be found, encouraging,
directing, animating. He was in a blue short cloak, and a
plain cocked hat, his telescope in his hand ; there was nothing
that escaped him, nothing that he did not take advantage of,
and his lynx eyes seemed to penetrate the smoke and forestall
the movements of the foe" (p. 42, Battle of Waterloo, llth
edition, 1852, L. Booth). A highly interesting remark from
the Duke's lips just before the attack made by the Imperial
Guard has been preserved in a letter written at Nivelles on the
20th June, by Colonel Sir A. S. Frazer. "< Twice have I saved
this day by perseverance,' said his Grace before the last great
struggle, and said so most justly." This seems to coincide with
the observation which the Duke made to Creevey at Brussels
the morning after the battle. "By God! I don't think it
would have been done, if I had not been there."
(33) Another proof that it was Mont St Jean and not
Waterloo.
(34) Probably James Powell, an apothecary in the Medical
Department. Date of rank, 9th September 1813. See Army
List for 1815, p. 93. In the Army List of 1817, and in subse-
quent Army Lists he is shown with a TODl before his name, as
being in possession of the Waterloo Medal. His last appear-
ance in the Army List is in 1841, in which issue he is shown on
page 340 as a surgeon on half-pay.
(35) John Robert Hume was a Deputy-Inspector of the
116 NOTES
Medical Department. See Army List for 1815, p. 90. He also
held the appointment of surgeon to the Duke of Wellington.
He was in attendance on the memorable occasion when a
duel took place in Battersea Fields between the Duke of
Wellington and Earl Winchilsea, 21st March 1829. He died in
1857. See Dictionary of National Biography, vol. xxviii., p. 229.
The following is Dr Hume's account of his visit to the Duke
the morning after the battle. " I came back from the field of
Waterloo with Sir Alexander Gordon, whose leg I was obliged
to amputate on the field late in the evening. He died rather
unexpectedly in my arms about half-past three in the morning
of the 19th. I was hesitating about disturbing the Duke, when
Sir Charles Broke- Vere came. He wished to take his orders
about the movement of the troops. I went upstairs and tapped
gently at the door, when he told me to come in. He had as
usual taken off his clothes, but had not washed himself. As I
entered, he sat up in bed, his face covered with the dust and
sweat of the previous day, and extended his hand to me, which
I took and held in mine, whilst I told him of Gordon's death,
and of such of the casualties as had come to my knowledge.
He was much affected. I felt the tears dropping fast upon my
hand, and looking towards him, saw them chasing one another
in furrows over his dusty cheeks. He brushed them suddenly
away with his left hand, and said to me in a voice tremulous
with emotion, " Well, thank God, I don't know what it is to lose
a battle ; but certainly nothing can be more painful than to
gain one with the loss of so many of one's friends." (Extract
from a Lecture by Montague Gore, 1852.)
(36) Stephen Woolriche was a Deputy-Inspector of the
Medical Department. See Army List for 1815, p. 90. His
name appears for the last time in the Army List of 1855-56.
NOTES 117
By that time he had gained a C.B., and held the rank of
Inspector-General of the Medical Department on half-pay.
(37) General Francis Dundas (Army List for 1815, p. 3) was
Colonel of the 71st Highland Light Infantry. He had served
in the American War, and afterwards at the Cape. At the
time of the alarm of a French invasion of England in 1804-5,
he commanded a portion of the English forces assembled on the
south coast under Sir David Dundas, the Commander-in-Chief,
who married an aunt of Sir William De Lancey. Sir David
Dundas was at this time Governor of Chelsea Hospital, where
he died at the age of eighty-five, on the 18th February 1820.
(See Dictionary of National Biography, vol. xvi., p. 185.)
(38) Sir Hew Dalrymple Hamilton, fourth baronet, was born
on the 3rd January 1774, and married, on the 19th May 1800,
Jane, eldest daughter of the first Lord Duncan of Camperdown.
(39) There were at that time three Protestant cemeteries at
Brussels. This was the St Josse Ten Noode Cemetery, on the
south side of the Chaussee de Louvain. Many were here buried
who had died of wounds received at Waterloo, including Major
Archibald John Maclean, 73rd Highlanders ; Major William
J. Lloyd, R.A. ; Captain William Stothert, Adjutant, 3rd Foot
Guards ; Lieut. Michael Cromie, R.A. ; Lieut. Charles Spearman,
R.A. ; Lieut. John Clyde, 23rd Royal Welsh Fusiliers. See
Times of 9th February 1889.
(40) In 1889, Sir William De Lancey 's remains were exhumed
from the old, disused cemetery of St Josse Ten Noode, and,
along with those of a number of other British officers who fell
in the Waterloo campaign, were removed to the beautiful
cemetery of Evere, three miles to the north-east of Brussels.
On the 26th August 1890, H.R.H. the Duke of Cambridge
118 NOTES
unveiled the celebrated Waterloo memorial which contains their
bones.
The following was the inscription on the gravestone which
Lady De Lancey erected :
"THIS STONE is PLACED TO MARK WHERE THE BODY OF
COL. SIR W. HOWE DE LANCEY,
QUARTERMASTER-GENERAL,
IS INTERRED.
HE WAS WOUNDED AT THE BATTLE OF
BELLE ALLIANCE (WATERLOO)
ON THE 18TH JUNE 1815."
(41) Tuesday, Uh April 1815. This date is confirmed by the
Gentleman's Magazine, 1815, which states: "April 4, Col. Sir
W. De Lancey, K.C.B., to Magdalene, daughter of Sir James
Hall, Bart."
On the other hand, the Abridged Narrative states as follows :
"I was married in March 1815. At that time Sir William De
Lancey held an appointment on the Staff in Scotland. Peace
appeared established, and I had no apprehension of the trials
that awaited me. While we were spending the first week of
our marriage at Dunglass, the accounts of the return of Bona-
parte from Elba arrived, and Sir William was summoned to
London, and soon after ordered to join the army at Brussels as
Adjutant-Quartermaster-General." Napoleon landed in France
on the 1st March, and in the London Evening Mail of the issue
headed :
"From Wednesday, March 8, to Friday, March 10, 1815,"
the following appears as a postscript :
"LONDON,
" Friday Afternoon, March 10.
" Letters have been received at Dover of the most interesting
import ; they announce the flight of Buonaparte from the island
NOTES 119
of Elba, and his arrival at Frejus, the place at which he landed
on his return from Egypt. We have seen the King of France's
proclamation against him, dated the 6th instant, declaring him
and his adherents traitors and rebels : of these he is said to have
had at first only 1300, but to have directed his march imme-
diately on Lyons. It was considered that he would make a dash
at Paris. Now, however, the villain's fate is at issue."
This news probably reached Edinburgh by coach a week
later, and may have been known at Dunglass on the following
day, the 18th March.
It seems doubtful, therefore, whether Lady De Lancey did
not make a mistake of a month in dating her marriage exactly
three months before the 4th of July. She may possibly have
been married in March.
The " Hundred Days " cover the period between Napoleon's
first proclamation at Lyons on the 13th March and his abdica-
tion on the 22nd June.
It will therefore be seen that the married life of the
De Lanceys, if it extended from the 4th March to the 26th
June 1815, covered this period, with just thirteen days to
spare.
APPENDIX A
Letters to Captain Basil Hall, E.N., from Sir
Walter Scott and Charles Dickens. 1
" MY DEAR CAPTAIN HALL,
" I received with great pleasure your
kind proposal to visit Tweedside. It arrived later
than it should have done. I lose no time in saying
that you and Mrs Hall cannot come but as welcome
guests any day next week, which may best suit
you. If you have time to drop a line we will make
our dinner hour suit your arrival, but you cannot
come amiss to us.
"I am infinitely obliged to you for Captain
Maitland's plain, manly, and interesting narrative.
It is very interesting, and clears Bonaparte of much
egotism imputed to him. I am making a copy
which, however, I will make no use of except as
1 From the autograph collection in the possession of Lacty
Parsons.
Q
122 APPENDIX A
extracts, and am very much indebted to Captain
Maitland for the privilege.
" Constable proposed a thing to me which was
of so much delicacy that I scarce know how [sic]
about it, and thought of leaving it till you and I met.
" It relates to that most interesting and affecting
journal kept by my regretted and amiable friend,
Mrs Hervey, 1 during poor De Lancey's illness. He
thought with great truth that it would add very
great interest as an addition to the letters which I
wrote from Paris soon after Waterloo, and certainly
I would consider it as one of the most valuable and
important documents which could be published
as illustrative of the woes of war. But whether
this could be done without injury to the feelings of
survivors is a question not for me to decide, and
indeed I feel unaffected pain in even submitting it
to your friendly ear who I know will put no harsh
construction upon my motive which can be no other
than such as would do honour to the amiable and
lamented authoress. I never read anything which
affected my own feelings more strongly or which I
1 Lady De Lancey married again in 1819 Captain Henry
Hervey, Madras Infantry, and died in 1822. Gentleman's
Magazine, vol. Ixxxix, Part I., p. 368, and vol. cii., Part II., p.
179.
APPENDIX A 123
am sure would have a deeper interest on those of
the public. Still the work is of a domestic nature,
and its publication, however honourable to all
concerned, might perhaps give pain when God
knows I should be sorry any proposal of mine
should awaken the distresses which time may have
in some degree abated. You are the only person
who can judge of this with any certainty or at least
who can easily gain the means of ascertaining it, and
as Constable seemed to think there was a possibility
that after the lapse of so much time it might be
regarded as matter of history and as a record of the
amiable character of your accomplished sister, and
seemed to suppose there was some probability of
such a favour being granted, you will consider me
as putting the question on his suggestion. It
could be printed as the Journal of a lady during the
last illness of a General Officer of distinction during
her attendance upon his last illness, or something
to that purpose. Perhaps it may be my own high
admiration of the contents of this heartrending
diary which makes me suppose a possibility that
after such a lapse of years, the publication may
possibly (as that which cannot but do the highest
honour to the memory of the amiable authoress)
may not be judged altogether inadmissible. You
124 APPENDIX A
may and will, of course, act in this matter with your
natural feeling of consideration, and ascertain
whether that which cannot but do honour to the
memory of those who are gone can be made public
with the sacred regard due to the feelings of
survivors.
" Lady Scott begs to add the pleasure she must
have in seeing Mrs Hall and you at Abbotsford,
and in speedy expectation of that honour I am
always,
" Dear Sir,
" Most truly yours,
" WALTER SCOTT.
"ABBOTSFORD, 13th October 1825."
" DEVONSHIRE TERRACE,
" Tuesday evening) 1 6th March 1841.
"My DEAR HALL,
"For I see it must be 'juniores
priores,' and that I must demolish the ice at a
blow.
" I have not had courage until last night to read
Lady De Lancey's narrative, and, but for your
letter, I should not have mastered it even then.
One glance at it, when through your kindness it
APPENDIX A 125
first arrived, had impressed me with a foreboding
of its terrible truth, and I really have shrunk from
it in pure lack of heart.
" After working at Barnaby all day, and wander-
ing about the most wretched and distressful streets
for a couple of hours in the evening searching
for some pictures I wanted to build upon I went
at it, at about ten o'clock. To say that the reading
that most astonishing and tremendous account has
constituted an epoch in my life that I shall never
forget the lightest word of it that I cannot throw
the impression aside, and never saw anything so
real, so touching, and so actually present before
my eyes, is nothing. I am husband and wife, dead
man and living woman, Emma and General
Dundas, doctor and bedstead everything and
everybody (but the Prussian officer damn him)
all in one. What I have always looked upon as
masterpieces of powerful and affecting description,
seem as nothing in my eyes. If I live for fifty
years, I shall dream of it every now and then, from
this hour to the day of my death, with the most
frightful reality. The slightest mention of a battle
will bring the whole thing before me. I shall
never think of the Duke any more, but as he stood
in his shirt with the officer in full-dress uniform, or
126 APPENDIX A
as he dismounted from his horse when the gallant
man was struck down.
" It is a striking proof of the power of that most
extraordinary man Defoe that I seem to recognise
in every line of the narrative something of him.
Has this occurred to you ? The going to Waterloo
with that unconsciousness of everything in the
road, but the obstacles to getting on the shutting
herself up in her room and determining not to
hear the not going to the door when the knocking
came the finding out by her wild spirits when she
heard he was safe, how much she had feared when
in doubt and anxiety the desperate desire to
move towards him the whole description of the
cottage, and its condition; and their daily shifts
and contrivances ; and the lying down beside him
in the bed and both falling asleep ; and his resolv-
ing not to serve any more, but to live quietly
thenceforth; and her sorrow when she saw him
eating with an appetite so soon before his death ;
and his death itself all these are matters of truth,
which only that astonishing creature, as I think,
could have told in fiction.
" Of all the beautiful and tender passages the
thinking every day how happy and blest she was
the decorating him for the dinner the standing
APPENDIX A 127
in the balcony at night and seeing the troops melt
away through the gate and c the rejoining him on
his sick bed I say not a word. They are God's
own, and should be sacred. But let me say again,
with an earnestness which pen and ink can no
more convey than toast and water, in thanking you
heartily for the perusal of this paper, that its
impression on me can never be told; that the
ground she travelled (which I know well) is holy
ground to me from this day ; and that please
Heaven I will tread its every foot this very
next summer, to have the softened recollection
of this sad story on the very earth where it was
acted.
" You won't smile at this, I know. When my
enthusiasms are awakened by such things they
don't wear out.
" Have you ever thought within yourself of that
part where, having suffered so much by the news
of his death, she will not believe he is alive? I
should have supposed that unnatural if I had seen
it in fiction.
" I shall never dismiss the subject from my mind,
but with these hasty and very imperfect words I
shall dismiss it from my paper, with two additional
remarks firstly, that Kate has been grievously
128 APPENDIX A
putting me out by sobbing over it, while I have been
writing this, and has just retired in an agony of
grief; and, secondly, that if a, time should ever come
when you would not object to letting a friend copy
it for himself, I hope you will bear me in your
thoughts.
" It seems the poorest nonsense in the world to
turn to anything else, that is, seems to me being
fresher in respect of Lady De Lancey than you
but my raven's dead. He had been ailing for a
few days but not seriously, as we thought, and was
apparently recovering, when symptoms of relapse
occasioned me to send for an eminent medical
gentleman one Herring (a bird fancier in the New
Road), who promptly attended and administered
a powerful dose of castor oil. This was on
Tuesday last. On Wednesday morning he had
another dose of castor oil and a tea cup full of warm
gruel, which he took with great relish and under
the influence of which he so far recovered his
spirits as to be enabled to bite the groom severely.
At 12 o' clock at noon he took several turns up and
down the stable with a grave, sedate air, and
suddenly reeled. This made him thoughtful. He
stopped directly, shook his head, moved on again,
stopped once more, cried in a tone of remonstrance
APPENDIX A 129
and considerable surprise, ' Halloa old girl ! ' and
immediately died.
" He has left a rather large property (in cheese
and halfpence) buried, for security's sake, in various
parts of the garden. I am not without suspicions of
poison. A butcher was heard to threaten him some
weeks since, and he stole a clasp knife belonging
to a vindictive carpenter, which was never found.
For these reasons, I directed a post-mortem exami-
nation, preparatory to the body being stuffed ; the
result of it has not yet reached me. The medical
gentleman broke out the fact of his decease to me
with great delicacy, observing that 'the j oiliest
queer start had taken place with that 'ere knowing
card of a bird, as ever he see'd ' but the shock was
naturally very great. With reference to the jollity
of the start, it appears that a raven dying at two
hundred and fifty or thereabouts, is looked upon as
an infant. This one would hardly, as I may say,
have been born for a century or so to come, being
only two or three years old.
"I want to know more about the promised
' tickler ' when it's to come, what it's to be, and in
short all about it that I may give it the better
welcome. I don't know how it is, but I am
celebrated either for writing no letters at all or for
R
130 APPENDIX A
the briefest specimens of epistolary correspondence
in existence, and here I am in writing to you on
the sixth side ! I won't make it a seventh anyway ;
so with love to all your home circle, and from all
mine, I am now and always,
" Faithfully yours,
"CHARLES DICKENS.
"I am glad you like Barnaby. I have great
designs in store, but am sadly cramped at first
for room."
APPENDIX B
BIBLIOGRAPHY OF LADY DE LANCE Y'S
NARRATIVE
Reminiscences, by Samuel Rogers, under the heading : " Duke
of Wellington/' p. 210.
Memoirs, Journal, and Correspondence of Thomas Moore, edited by
Lord John Russell, Journal of 29th August 1824, vol.
iv., p. 240.
Notes of Conversations with the Duke of Wellington, by Earl
Stanhope, p. 182.
Letter from Sir Walter Scott to Captain Basil Hall, R.N.,
dated 13th October 1825, published in the Century
Magazine (New York), April 1906, and in Appendix A,
ante.
Letter from Charles Dickens to Captain Basil Hall, R.N.,
dated 16th March 1841, published in the Century
Magazine (New York), April 1906, and in Appendix A,
ante.
Illustrated Naval and Military Magazine, 1888, rol. viii., p. 414.
A condensed account of her experiences at Waterloo,
written by Lady De Lancey for the information of her
friends in general. See page 31, ante.
131
132 APPENDIX B
Century Magazine, New York, April 1906. Publication in
full of the original narrative as written by Lady De
Lancey for the information of her brother, Captain
Basil Hall, R.N.
INDEX
Abbotsford, 124.
Abercrombie, General, 6.
Abridged Narrative, 103, 104, 106,
107, 108, 112, 118.
Adonais, 38.
Alava, General, 16, 17, 19, 56, 103,
114.
Ambassador, Spanish, 42, 103.
Annapolis, 5.
Antwerp, 41, 44, 45, 48, 52, 53, 58,
59, 64, 93, 108.
Appleton's Cyclopedia, quoted, 3, 5,
8,24.
Autobiography of Sir Harry Smith,
quoted, 10, 17.
B., Mrs, 60, 61.
Bacon, quoted, 1, 2.
Bahama Islands, 9.
Ball at Duchess of Richmond's, 45,
103, 106.
Barclay, Colonel Delancey, 51, 112.
Barnaby Rudge, 35, 125, 130.
Barnes, Major-General Sir E., 15, 18,
20.
Bathurst, Earl, 12, 33.
Berkeley, Colonel, 18.
Beverley, 5, 8.
Bibliography of Lady De Lancey's
Narrative, 131.
Bloomingdale, 7.
Bllicher, 18, 21, 105, 109.
Bonaparte, Napoleon, 121.
Bowood, 32.
Brogden, T. W., 103.
133
Broke- Vere, Sir Charles, 116.
Brunswick, Duke of, 46.
Brussels, 12, 14, 18, et passim.
Bulow, 105.
Caen, 3, 4.
Calnek and Savary, 5.
Cambridge, Duke of, 117.
Canning, Colonel, 18.
Castel Cicala, Prince, 19.
Castle Rackrent, 15.
Cathcart, Colonel, 104.
Century Magazine, 131, 132.
Charleroi, 20, 112.
Chichester, Henry Manners, 15, 23.
Childe Harold, 38.
Clyde, Lieutenant, 117.
Colville's Division, 108.
Connecticut, 6.
Constable, 33, 122, 123.
Cooke, General, 18.
Corunna, 25, 30.
County of Annapolis, History of, 5.
Craan, W. B., 109.
Creevey Papers, 10, 11, 114, 115.
Creevey, Mr, 114, 115.
Cromie, Lieutenant, 117.
Crown Point, 6.
Cruger, Colonel John Harris, 7.
Dalton's Waterloo Roll Call, 20, 112,
113.
Defoe, 1, 36. 126.
De Coster, 109.
De Lancey, Charlotte, 8.
134
INDEX
De Lancey, Edward Floyd, 3, 5,
24.
De Lancey, Etienne, 3, 4.
De Lancey, James, 5.
De Lancey, Lady, 12 ; Narrative of,
24, 31-38-
De Lancey, Oliver, 5, 8, 26.
De Lancey, Peter, 5.
De Lancey, Sir William Howe, bio-
graphy of, 10; military services
of, 10, 25, 26; on board H.M.S.
Endymion, 25 ; marriage, 12, 118 ;
summoned to Belgium, 13 ; at
Brussels, 13, 39-45 ; at the battle
of Waterloo, 14, 50, 51 ; wounding
and death of, 13-16, 50, 99, 110.
De Lancey, Stephen, 8, 9.
De Lancey, Susanna, 8.
De Lancy, Guy, 3.
De Ros, Lady, 103.
Despatches of the Duke of Wellington,
quoted, 15, 16.
Dickens, Charles, 1, 33, 34, 37, 121,
130, 131.
Dickens, Kate, 127.
Dictionnaire de la Noblesse de France,
3.
Dictionary of National Biography,
10, 11, 12, 15, 23, 25, 26, 111, 112,
116, 117.
Draper, Sir William, 8.
Dundas, General Sir David, 8, 117.
Dundas, General Francis, 35, 82, 36,
89, 92, 93, 96, 99, 100, 101, 117, 125.
Dunglass, 108, 118, 119.
Dunkirk, 108.
Eaton, Mrs, 107, 108, 112.
Edinburgh, 119.
Elba, 10, 118, 119.
Emma, 35, 46, 48, et scepe.
Endymion, H.M.S., 25, 27, 28, 30.
Evening Mail, quoted, 17, 118.
Evere Cemetery, 117.
Fragments of Voyages and Travels, 25,
26, 31.
Frazer, Colonel Sir A. S., Letters of,
13, 15, 115.
Frejus, 119.
Fremantle, Colonel, 17.
Genappe, 22, 49, 109.
Genoa, 11.
Gentleman's Magazine, 118, 122.
Ghent, 11.
Gordon, Colonel Sir Alexander, 18,
20, 21, 116.
Gore, Captain Arthur, 2, 109.
Gore, Montague, 116.
Grant, Colonel, 100.
Greene, General, 7.
Gronow, Captain, 19.
Gurwood's Despatches of the Duke of
Wellington, 10, 15, 106.
Hal, 108.
Halkett, Sir Colin, 114.
Hall, Captain Basil, 24, 25, 26, 31,
32, 33, 35, 121, 124, 131.
Hall, Magdalene (Lady De Lancey),
12, 26, 68, 89, 99, 118.
Hall, Mrs Basil, 24, 121, 124.
Hall, Sir James, 12, 118.
Hamilton, Sir H. D., 82, 113.
Hamilton, Lady, 53, 54, 55, 56, 57,
60, 61, 93.
Hay, Captain William, 113, 114.
Hay, Cornet Alexander, 113.
Hay, Lieut, 59, 60, 66, 67, 113.
Hervey, Mrs (Lady De Lancey), 122.
Hervey, Colonel Felton, 19, 106, 114.
Hills, Robert, 113.
History of the Corps of Royal
Engineers, quoted, 112.
Howe, General Sir William, 7.
Howe, Lord, 6.
Hudson River, 7.
Hume, Dr, 13, 80, 81, 89, 90, 91, 98,
115, 116.
" Hundred Days," 119.
Illustrated London News, 109.
Illustrated Naval and Military
Magazine, 31, 131.
India, 29.
Invalides, Les, 38.
INDEX
135
Jackson, Colonel Basil, 19, 104.
James II., 4.
James, Mr, 53, 54, 55, 57.
Johnson, Mrs S., 10.
Jones' History, quoted, 3, 7.
Kentish Gazette, 103.
Ladysmith, 16.
Lannoy, Count de, 39, 93, 104.
Lansdowne, Lord, 32.
Larochejaquelein, Memoires de Ma-
dame la Marquise de, 34.
Lennox, Lord William, 19.
Ligny, 21, 105, 113.
Lloyd, Major W.J., 117.
London, 8, 71.
Long Island, 7.
Louvain, 101, 117.
Lowe, General E. W. H. De Lancey,
31.
Lowe, Sir Hudson, 10, 11.
Loyalists of the American Revolution,
quoted, 8.
Lycidas, 38.
Lyons, 119.
Machel, Town Major, 47.
Maclean, Major, 117.
Madrid Gazette, 17.
Maitland, Captain, 121, 122.
Malines, 58.
Maurice, Colonel, 106.
M'Kenzie, General, 62, 63, 64, 114.
M6moires de Madame la Marquise de
Larochejaquelein, 34.
Mitchell, Captain, 46, 47, 49, 55, 57.
Mons, 13.
Mont St Jean, 22, 110, 112, 113, 114,
115.
Moore, Thomas, 32, 33, 131.
Mount-Norris, Lord, 18.
Muffling, General, 106.
Namur, 20, 21.
Nantes, Revocation of the Edict of,
3,4.
Napoleon, 10, 11, 38, 109, 118, 119.
National Biography, Dictionary of,
10,11,12, 15,23, 25, 26, 111,112,
116, 117.
Naval and Military Magazine, Illus-
trated, 31, 131.
New Jersey, 8.
New York, 3, 4, 5, 6, 8, 9, 10.
Ney, Marshal, 109.
Nineteenth Century Magazine, 106.
" Ninety-Six," Fort, 7.
Ninove, 105.
Nivelles, 15, 20, 71, 112, 115.
Notes of Conversations with the Duke
of Wellington, quoted, 2, 33.
Nova Scotia, 5.
Nunraw, 113.
Oldfield, Major, R.E., 111.
Ompteda, 109.
Orange, Prince of, 11, 19.
Ossining, 3, 5.
Ostend, 39.
Paris, 33, 122.
Parsons, Lady, 24, 121.
Paul's Letters to his Kinsfolk, 110.
Picton, General Sir Thomas, 18, 21.
Ponsonby, Sir Frederick, 114.
Ponsonby, Sir William, 16.
Porter's History of the Corps of Royal
Engineers, 112.
Portsmouth, 29.
Portsmouth, N.H., 8, 9.
Powell, Mr, 78, 79, 83, 84, 89, 90, 91,
95, 96, 97, 98, 115.
Pozzo di Borgo, Count, 19.
Quatre Bras, 20, 106, 109, 112, 113.
Ramsgate, 108.
Recollections and Anecdotes, by
Captain Gronow, quoted, 19.
Richmond, Duke of, 19.
Richmond, Duchess of, 45, 103, 106.
Rogers, Samuel, 14, 15, 24, 131.
Ropes' Waterloo, 106, 112.
Rothschild, Nathan, 108.
Royal Engineers, History of the Corps
of, 112.
Russell, Lord John, 33, 131.
136
INDEX
Sabine, General Sir E., 13.
Sabine's Loyalists of the American
Revolution, quoted, 8.
Scott, Lady, 124.
Scott, Sir Walter, 33, 34, 38, 110,
121, 131.
Scovell, Sir George, 52, 62, 67, 77,
78.
Sharpe, W. Arthur, 24.
Siborne's Waterloo Correspondence,
110.
Sketches in Flanders and Holland, 113.
Smith, Sir Harry, 10, 16.
Smyth, Col. Sir Carmichael, R.E.,
110, 111, 112.
Somerset, Lord Edward, 114.
Somerset, Lord Fitzroy, 18, 19, 20.
Southey, Robert, 108.
Spearman, Lieutenant, 117.
Stanhope, Earl, quoted, 2, 33.
Staten Island, 7.
St Josse Ten Noode, 117.
Stothert, Captain W., 117.
Taj, The, 38.
Tarrytown, 7.
Tennyson, 38.
Ticonderoga, Fort, 6.
Tobago, 9.
Tompkinson's Diary of a Cavalry
Officer, 113.
Torrens, General Sir H., 11.
Trafalgar, 16.
United Service Journal, 23, 105.
United Service Magazine, 106.
Uxbridge, Lord, 18.
Van Cortlandt, Stephanus, 4.
Vanity Fair, 38.
Van Schaak, 8.
Vendee, La, 34.
Victor Hugo, 109.
Vilvorde, 65.
Vincent, Baron, 19.
Waldie, Miss, 112.
Waterloo, 1, 10, 12, et passim.
Waterloo, Battle of, by L. Booth, 11
Waterloo Days, 107, 108, 113.
Waterloo, Explanatory Notes on tut
battle of, 2, 109.
Waterloo, Recollections of, 23, 105.
Waterloo Roll Call, 20, 112, 113.
Waterloo, Ropes', 106, 112.
Waters, Lieut., R.E., 111.
Wavre, 112.
Webster, Lady Frances, 18.
Wellington, Duke of, 2, 10, 11, et swpe.
Wellington, Duke of, Despatches of
the, quoted, 15, 16.
Wellington, Duke of, Supplementary
Despatches of the, quoted, 11, 12, 18.
Wellington Tree, 109, 110, 112.
Winchilsea, Earl, 116.
Woolriche, Mr, 82, 83, 88, 116.
Yonge's Life of Wellington, 111.
York, Duke of, 8, 12.
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