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
Passing along, I found the streets in this part of the town crowded
with commissariat waggons, coming for or taking supplies to the
neighbouring cantonments, so that between these and the multitude of
Hanoverian soldiers it was not without difficulty that I made my way
along and reached an expansion of the street where the Marché aux
Herbes is held, much as it used to be in the fore street at Exeter
ere the present market-place was built. The bustle, gaiety, groups of
females, the colour and smell of flowers and herbs, &c., always make
a vegetable-market an agreeable scene. This one was enhanced by the
various uniforms of the British, Belgic, and Hanoverian soldiery, and
the handsome shops surrounding it. These exhibited in their windows
every variety of the choicest productions of India and Europe; and
pre-eminent amongst them all were the jewellers and pipe-sellers, or
tobacconists, with their splendid displays of meerschaums, Turkish
pipes with amber mouth-pieces, rich tobacco-pouches, &c. &c. The
Montagne de la Cour, though restricted after passing the market,
still a broad street, ascended right in front; and at the foot of
this a large hotel (d’Angleterre) occurred so opportunely that I rode
into its court, and, leaving my orderly in charge of my horse, set
off at once, eager to explore this new and interesting ground.
My first impulse was to seek the park, of which I had so often heard,
and instinctively I ascended la Montagne de la Cour, which proved
the direct road to it. At the top of the ascent I found myself in a
pretty little square (Place Royale) surrounded by handsome houses,
but having very much the appearance of pasteboard. Turning thence
into a broad street, I found myself in a most magnificent square, far
exceeding in beauty, if not in size, any of ours in London--pretty
lawns and thick shrubberies, with fine trees, &c., enclosed by a
handsome iron railing, and surrounded by fine houses, the façades
ornamented by Ionic pilasters, and painted in delicate tints
of buff, green, &c., or white, and the whole forming a splendid
spectacle and delicious spot. The park is laid out in walks winding
through shrubberies and dingles, affording varied and pleasing
scenery, some part of the ground being broken and uneven. In the
centre is a sort of pavilion where refreshments are sold, and near
it is a sheet of water, &c. _Park_ is a misnomer; consider it a
_square_, in our acceptation of the term, and it is one of the most
beautiful in Europe. Its beauty is considerably increased by the old
ramparts with their fine umbrageous trees overtopping by far those
of the park, and completing one side instead of a row of houses.
The glimpse I here got of those ramparts naturally attracted me
thither, and I was delighted with the lovely, airy, and commanding
promenade they afforded. This promenade round the ramparts is the
most delightful imaginable, elevated as they are so much above the
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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