Journal of the Waterloo campaign, vol. 1 (of 2) : $b kept throughout the campaign of 1815 — John Shaqi
Journal of the Waterloo campaign, vol. 1 (of 2) : $b kept throughout the campaign of 1815Mercer, Cavalié
History
Journal of the Waterloo campaign, vol. 1 (of 2) : $b kept throughout the campaign of 1815
Mercer, Cavalié
Mercer, Cavalié, 1783-1868 -- Diaries; Waterloo, Battle of, Waterloo, Belgium, 1815 -- Personal narratives, British
Henceforward the scenery took a very different aspect, and we
exchanged the smiling, populous, well-wooded country we had been
hitherto traversing for a lugubrious, marshy tract, devoid of
anything that could break its monotony--neither trees nor houses,
and but few cattle, were to be seen, whilst the abominable road
became so slippery that it was with difficulty our horses could keep
their feet.
About half a league from Dendermonde we struck the Scheldt, but
could see nothing of it or the opposite country for the high dyke by
which the river is here confined, and along the foot of which, for
some little distance, our road lay, until it brought us to a wooden
bridge elevated nearly thirty feet above the water, and so tottering
that it was necessary to pass by single divisions, and even then its
vibrations were not pleasant. Our quartermaster, who had been sent
in advance, met us here, with orders not to halt in Dendermonde, but
to proceed on to St Gille, situated beyond it on the Brussels road.
The appearance of things improved here, from the number of trees
about Dendermonde, which we soon after entered by a long, straight,
narrow, gloomy, mean-looking street of low houses, built of the same
dark stone we had seen at Lokeren. This led us to a spacious quay,
encompassing what I supposed to be the harbour, for the water was
very low, and the mud bare, like Bristol. Passing round the head
of this, we soon left the town again, and almost immediately found
ourselves at St Gille, which consists of a few mean houses scattered
along the Chaussée, the only decent one being that of a _juge de
paix_, on which I found myself billeted.
In a country so carefully cultivated as this is, a piece of waste
land is a rarity, and therefore we had some difficulty in forming
our park, which at last was done in a small enclosed cemetery, not
without disturbing the ashes of the dead, and running some risk of
breaking our horses’ legs and our own necks, for the graves had all
been so loosely filled in that the horses sank to their shoulders
in the light soil. Our men and horses were dispersed amongst
the neighbouring farms of the commune, and though rather widely
scattered, yet most comfortably put up everywhere.
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