Journal of the Waterloo campaign, vol. 2 (of 2) : $b kept throughout the campaign of 1815Mercer, Cavalié
History
Journal of the Waterloo campaign, vol. 2 (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
Airaines at first sight was not calculated to remove the unpleasant
feeling excited by its neighbourhood: rather large for a country
town, and lying on a gentle slope; its streets irregular, and
buildings mean, dirty, and ruinous-looking;--altogether very gloomy.
Our billet was on the _auberge_ where the diligences stopped, a
house of very inferior description, in which we did not establish
ourselves without difficulty, and then wretchedly enough. For
ourselves we got a room with two dirty beds in it, and only the
coarsest kind of furniture; floor inch-thick in dirt, and having
chinks between the planks, so gaping that we could see everything
going on below--and being over the gateway, the great lounge of the
postilions, _gens-d’armes_, &c., we had not only the advantage of
all their conversation, but also of their eternal tobacco-pipes;
also the full benefit of a most cooling breeze continually blowing
through the gateway. The only room we could procure for Angélique was
occupied by a postilion, and he was unwilling to evacuate, so that a
little tyranny became necessary to gain possession. We turned him
out _vi et armis_. In this wretched place we remained a fortnight,
during which the weather, always gloomy, was at times bitterly cold,
or heavy rain. As the whole troop could not be lodged here, it was
necessary to detach Maunsell with one division to a village at least
five miles off; and Wells, pretending there was no lodging to be
procured here, asked leave to accompany him--notwithstanding which,
our surgeon, Ambrose, who overtook us here, immediately obtained very
comfortable quarters. Hitchins also was uncommonly well lodged in the
house of an old smuggler. Our park was formed on an open space by
the road to Abbeville, just without the town, where, as the weather
was too cold for our guard to remain in a tent, I asked the mayor to
procure them accommodation in a house hard by. This he refused, until
I made preparations to bring our park into the market-place, which
alarmed him so much that he immediately complied. The market-place,
by the way, was precisely similar to the old buildings one sees in
English country towns; and here the two Sundays during our stay I
performed divine service. To pass our time here we sometimes rode
about the dreary neighbourhood, where we discovered a ruined castle;
and in another part a rather pretty village, with a fine manor-house
and park; but the people soon drove us away from this last, not only
by their abuse, but even pelting us with stones. In bad weather
we resorted to a wretched billiard-table opposite our inn, where
I taught F. the game, and drank bitter coffee to my cigars. There
was nothing extraordinary in her frequenting this table, as it is
customary for females to do so; and there were seldom any other
people present than our own.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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