Waterloo Days: The narrative of an Englishwoman resident at Brussels in June 1815Eaton, Charlotte A. (Charlotte Anne)
History
Waterloo Days: The narrative of an Englishwoman resident at Brussels in June 1815
Eaton, Charlotte A. (Charlotte Anne)
Waterloo, Battle of, Waterloo, Belgium, 1815
had speedily recourse to blows, and those who could not get horses by
fair means endeavoured to obtain them by foul. The unresisting animals
were dragged away half-harnessed. The carriages were seized by force,
and jammed against each other. Amidst the crash of wheels, the volleys
of oaths, and the confusion of tongues, the mistress of the hotel, with
a countenance dressed in woe, was carrying off her most valuable plate
in order to secure it, ejaculating, as she went, the name of Jesus
incessantly, and, I believe, unconsciously; while the master, with a
red nightcap on his head, and the eternal pipe sticking mechanically
out of one corner of his mouth, was standing with his hands in his
pockets, a silent statue of despair.
Amidst this uproar I soon found out our côcher, but, to my utter
consternation, he vehemently swore, "that he would neither go himself,
nor let his horses go; no, not to save the King of Holland himself; for
that the French were just at hand, and that they would take his horses,
and murder him:" and neither entreaties, nor bribes, nor arguments,
nor persuasions, had the smallest effect upon him; he remained
inexorable, and so did numbers of the fraternity. While my brother,
who had now come down stairs, was vainly and angrily expostulating
with him, I inquired on all sides, and of all people, if there was no
possibility of procuring other horses. The good-natured garçon of the
house exclaimed, "That if there were horses to be had in Brussels, I
should have them;" and away he ran in quest of them, while I continued
my fruitless inquiries. In a little while he returned disappointed and
unsuccessful, exclaiming, with a face of horror that I shall never
forget, "Il n'y a pas un seul cheval, et les François sont tout près
de la ville." At this moment in rushed Mr. H., in an agony of terror,
panting, breathless, and exhausted, crying to us "that his carriage
was ready, that they could carry one of us, and that we must come away
instantly." It was to no purpose both he and I implored my sister to
accompany them, but she was inflexible. Nothing could induce her to
go without us, and, finding she was immoveable, Mr. H. ran off with
the good-natured intention of taking Lady W., since we refused to go
singly. With incredible expedition, one English carriage after another
drove off at full speed, and we were left to our fate. Of the rapid
approach of the enemy we could not entertain the smallest doubt. To
say I was frightened is nothing: I honestly confess I never knew what
terror was before. Never shall I forget the horror of those moments.
Our own immediate danger, and all the dreadful list of uncertain,
undefined evils to which we might be exposed, in the power of those
merciless savages; the anxiety, the distress, and despair of our
friends at home, joined to the dreadful idea that the English army had
been overwhelmed by numbers, defeated, perhaps cut to pieces, agonised
my mind with feelings which it is impossible to describe.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account