id="page166" class="x-ebookmaker-pageno" title="[pg 166]"/> return without firing a gun in defence of truth, and of their legitimate sovereign, whom they had recalled to the throne of his ancestors only ten months before! Our excellent friend, the minister, joined us soon after; but he was taciturn and thoughtful, and retired early. The next morning I determined to see Napoleon; but when our carriage arrived at the Pont Royal, thousands were collected there. Our servant advised us to descend and make our way on foot. The crowd civilly made way—they were waiting to see the review. An unusual silence prevailed, interrupted only by the cries of the children, whom the parents were thumping with energy for crying "Vive le Roi," instead of "Vive l'Empereur!"—which, some months before, they had been thumped for daring to vociferate! We proceeded to the Bibliothêque Royale: its outward appearance is that of an hospital or prison, its interior heavy and dark,—it was almost deserted.—Van Pratt still lingered there.—A Dutchman's phlegm tempered his emotions on the proceedings without; perhaps the repeated changes of government during his long life had diminished his interest in them. After showing me, with great complacency, much of the valuable possessions of this national collection of learning, splendid missals written on vellum, MSS. &c. &c. upon which my mind cannot now dwell, he recommended us to proceed to the review, to see which he had the good-nature to procure me admittance to the small apartment of a friend in the Tuileries; and from the window I saw and heard for the first time this scourge of the Continent,—his martial, active figure mounted on his famed white horse. He harangued with energetic tone (and in those bombastic expressions we have always remarked in all his manifestoes, and which are so well adapted to the French,) the troops of the divisions of Lepol and Dufour. There was much embracing of Les Anciens Aigles of the Old Guard—much mention of "great days, and souvenirs dear to his heart," of the "scars of his brave soldiers;" which, to serve his views, he will re-open without remorse, like the vampire of Greece. The populace were tranquil, as I had remarked them on the bridge. Inspirited by my still unsatisfied curiosity, I rejoined my escort, and proceeded to the gardens, where not more than thirty persons were collected under the windows. There was no enthusiastic cry, at least none deemed sufficient to induce him to show himself. In despair at not being able to contemplate his physiognomy at greater ease, I made my cavalier request some persons in the throng to cry "Vive l'Empereur!" Some laughed, and replied "Attendez un peu," while others advised us to desire some of the children to do so. A few francs thrown to the latter, soon stimulated their little voices into cries of the loyalty of that day, and Napoleon presented himself at the window; but he did not stand there in a firm attitude—he retired often, and re-appeared, standing rather sideways, as if wanting confidence in the disposition of our little assemblage. A few persons arrived from the country, and held up petitions, which he sent an aid-de-camp to receive. His square face and figure struck me with involuntary emotion. I was dazzled, as if beholding a supernatural being!—and then dismayed, as gazing upon one mortal like myself, but possessing such powers and capabilities of outraging humanity, and over-stepping the bounds of honour, good faith, and freedom's laws,—the laws of God and man! There is a sternness spread over his expansive brow, a gloom on the lids of his darkened eye, which renders futile his attempts to smile. Something of the Satanic sported round his mouth, indicating the ambitious spirit of the soul within!

The Day after the Battle of Waterloo.—June 19.

British bayonets are victorious!—Napoleon's army a wreck, panic-stricken, flies before Wellington and Blucher! I will not forget your anxieties even in this moment of fatigue and agitation. The combined forces are covered with immortal fame; they have vanquished the élite of Napoleon's empire, and those veteran generals most attached to his person and dynasty. They are in full flight, and we in glorious pursuit!—Ere this reaches you, the Allies will probably have entered Paris a second time within the year. We learnt that Napoleon had left the capital of France on the 12th: on the day of the 15th the frequent arrival of couriers excited extreme anxiety; and towards evening General Mufflin presented himself at the Duke's with dispatches from Blucher. We were all aware that the enemy was in movement, and the ignorant could not resolve the enigma of the Duke going tranquilly to the ball at the Duke of Richmond's:—his coolness was above their comprehension; had he remained at his own hotel, a panic would have probably ensued amongst the inhabitants, which would have embarrassed the intended movement of our division of the army.

I returned home late, and we were still talking over our uneasiness, when our domestic distinctly heard the trumpet's shrill appeal to battle within the city walls, and the drum beat to arms. Ere the sun had risen in full splendour, I distinguished martial music approaching, and I soon beheld from my windows the 5th reserve of our army passing: the Highland brigade, in destructive warlike bearing, were the first in advance, led by their noble thanes, the bagpipes playing their several pibrochs; they were succeeded by the 28th, their bugles' note falling more blithely upon the ear. Each regiment passed in succession with its band playing, impatient for the affray and fearless of death, meeting the peaceful peasant's carts bringing sustenance for the living. Those of my acquaintance looked gaily up at the window—alas! how many of them were before sunset numbered with the dead;—Scotland's thanes, ere they had traversed the Bois de Soignies, and the Duc de Brunswick-Oels that evening at Quatre Bras, stimulating onward his valiant hussars, and too carelessly exposing his person.

On the 17th the Duke of Wellington displayed his whole force to the enemy, and seemed to defy them to the combat—but in the evening retired upon Waterloo, and there reposed with some of his officers in the village, which lies embosomed in the Forêt de Soignies. Picton had fallen; each herald brought us tidings of a hero less, where all were heroes.

That night was dreadful for the soldier and his horse. No sooner had darkness covered the earth, than a fearful tempest arose; it was awful for man and beast—for the houseless peasant and his children, who had been driven from their late peaceful habitations, and stood exposed to the pitiless storm, viewing in wild dismay their fields devastated, the spring produce of their gardens laid low in human gore! At early dawn, on the Sabbath,—that hallowed day, enjoined to be held sacred for the worship of God, and for rest to toil-worn animals—the British army beheld the chevaleresque legions of the enemy, in all its superior numbers, ranged in order of battle on the rising ground. The sun at mid-day flashed its brilliant radiance over their military casques and arms. The cannonade then became general; the Duke of Wellington exposed himself like a subaltern; his personal venture in the strife excited anxiety; it was in vain that the officers of his staff urged him to be less conspicuous, that the fate of the battle hung upon his life: it was evident that he had determined to conquer or die: we knew it in Bruxelles, and we knew also that the Prince of Orange would succeed to the command in such a dread emergency; and although we did not doubt his Royal Highness's personal valour, we questioned much his experience in military tactics. In the streets every one demanded, "Will Blucher be able to advance?" and we were fully aware if that veteran General could not effect a junction with Wellington before eight o'clock that evening, all would be lost. At nine