Chapter I: Part 1

[Transcriber's Note: A table of contents has been added for the reader's convenience. Minor, obvious printer errors have been corrected without note. Numbers in brackets are footnotes, which are set forth below the paragraphs in which they appear. Numbers in parentheses appearing in the narrative are endnotes, which can be found in the Notes to Lady De Lancey's Narrative.]

A WEEK AT WATERLOO IN 1815

LADY DE LANCEY'S NARRATIVE

BEING AN ACCOUNT OF HOW SHE NURSED HER HUSBAND, COLONEL SIR WILLIAM HOWE DE LANCEY, QUARTERMASTER-GENERAL OF THE ARMY, MORTALLY WOUNDED IN THE GREAT BATTLE

EDITED BY MAJOR B.R. WARD ROYAL ENGINEERS

LONDON JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET, W. 1906

45th Regiment c. 1800.]

"Dim is the rumour of a common fight,
When host meets host, and many names are sunk;
But of a single combat Fame speaks clear."

--_Sohrab and Rustum._

CONTENTS

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS INTRODUCTION A WEEK AT WATERLOO IN 1815 NOTES TO LADY DE LANCEY'S NARRATIVE APPENDIX A--Letters to Captain Basil Hall, R.N., from Sir Walter Scott and Charles Dickens APPENDIX B--Bibliography of Lady De Lancey's Narrative INDEX

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

MAJOR WILLIAM HOWE DE LANCEY, 45th Regt. of Foot, c. 1800. _From a miniature in the possession of Wm. Heathcote De Lancey of New York_ _Frontispiece_

THE GOLD CROSS OF SIR WM. DE LANCEY, received after serving in the Peninsular War, with clasps for Talavera, Nive, Salamanca, San Sebastian, and Vittoria. _In the possession of Major J.A. Hay_ _Face p._ 10

LADY DE LANCEY. _From a miniature after J.D. Engleheart_ " 24

PART OF AN AUTOGRAPH LETTER OF SIR WALTER SCOTT " 34

PART OF AN AUTOGRAPH LETTER OF CHARLES DICKENS " 36

COLONEL SIR WILLIAM HOWE DE LANCEY, _c._ 1813 " 38

MAP OF PART OF THE BATTLEFIELD OF WATERLOO " 110

THE VILLAGE OF MONT ST JEAN, 1815 " 113

THE WATERLOO MEMORIAL IN EVERE CEMETERY " 118

A WEEK AT WATERLOO IN 1815

INTRODUCTION

The following narrative, written over eighty years ago, and now at last given to the world in 1906, is remarkable in many respects.

It is remarkable for its subject, for its style, and for its literary history.

The subject--a deathbed scene--might seem at first sight to be a trite and common one. The _mise-en-scene_--the Field of Waterloo--alone however redeems it from such a charge; and the principal actors play their part in no common-place or unrelieved tragedy. "Certainly," as Bacon says, "Vertue is like pretious Odours, most fragrant when they are incensed or crushed: For _Prosperity_ doth best discover Vice; But _Adversity_ doth best discover Vertue."

As to the style, it will be sufficient to quote the authority of Dickens for the statement that no one but Defoe could have told the story in fiction.

Its literary history is even more remarkable than either its style or its subject.

It is no exaggeration to say of the narrative--as Bacon said of the Latin volume of his Essays--that it "may last as long as Bookes last." And yet it has remained in manuscript for more than eighty years. This is probably unique in the history of literature since the Invention of Printing.

As regards the hero of the narrative, the Duke of Wellington once said that he "was an excellent officer, and would have risen to great distinction had he lived."[1]

[Footnote 1: _Notes of Conversations with the Duke of Wellington_, by Earl Stanhope, p. 183.]

Captain Arthur Gore, who afterwards became Lieutenant-General Gore, alludes to him in the following terms: "This incomparable officer was deservedly esteemed by the Duke of Wellington, who honoured him with his particular confidence and regard."[2]

[Footnote 2: _Explanatory Notes on the Battle of Waterloo_, by Captain Arthur Gore, 1817, p. 83.]

His ancestors, for several generations, had been men of great distinction, and he undoubtedly inherited their great qualities in a very high degree.

The De Lancey family is one of Huguenot origin, the founder of the family,[3] Etienne De Lancey, having fled from France at the time of the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes in 1685.

[Footnote 3: In French annals the family can be traced back to the time of the Hundred Years' War. The first of the name, of whom there is any authentic record, was Guy de Lancy, Vicomte de Laval et de Nouvion, who in 1432 held of the Prince Bishop of Laon and Nouvion, villages and territories a few miles south of that city. See _History of New York during the Revolutionary War_, by Thomas Jones, edited by Edward Floyd De Lancey, vol i., p. 651, and _Dictionnaire de la Noblesse de France_, vol. viii., title "Lancy."]

The following extracts treating of the family history are taken from Appleton's _Cyclopaedia of American Biography_.

The author of the articles, Edward Floyd De Lancey,[4] was born in 1821, and died at Ossining, N.Y., on the 7th April 1905. At one time he held the position of President of the New York Genealogical Society, and has done a great deal of work in the field of historical research.

[Footnote 4: For biographical sketch, _see_ Appleton's _Cyclopaedia_, vol. ii., p. 130.]

"Etienne De Lancey (great-grandfather of Sir William De Lancey), was born in Caen, France, 24th October 1663; and died in the city of New York, 18th November 1741. Having been compelled, as a Protestant, to leave France on the revocation of the Edict of Nantes (18th October 1685), he escaped into Holland. Deciding to become a British subject and to emigrate to America, he crossed to England and took the oath of allegiance to James II. He landed in New York, 7th June 1686. His mother had given him, on his departure from Caen, a portion of the family jewels. He sold them for L300, became a merchant, and amassed a fortune of L100,000. He married Anne, second daughter of Stephanus van Cortlandt, 23rd January 1700. He took a prominent part in public affairs, representing the fourth ward of New York as alderman in 1691-93, and was a member of Assembly for twenty-four years. While sitting in the latter body he gave his salary, during one session, to purchase the first town-clock erected in New York; and with the aid of his partner imported and presented to the city the first fire-engine that had been brought into the province. The De Lancey house, built by Etienne in 1700 upon a piece of land given to him by his father-in-law, is now the oldest building in the city of New York."[5] Mr De Lancey was buried in the family vault in Trinity Church, New York.

[Footnote 5: Appleton's _Cyclopaedia_, vol. ii., p. 129.]

Three of his sons, James, Peter, and Oliver, left descendants. Descendants of the eldest son, James, amongst whom were included Edward Floyd De Lancey, the historian of the family, are resident in the city of New York, and also at Ossining, N.Y. Descendants of the second son, Peter, are now living in the county of Annapolis, Nova Scotia.[6]

[Footnote 6: For further details of this branch of the family, _see_ the _History of the County of Annapolis_, by Calnek and Savary, pp. 339-344 and 499.]

The third son, Oliver, grandfather of the hero of the present narrative, went to England after the Revolutionary War. No direct descendants of his in the male line would appear to be now living.

The following is the account of his life as given in Appleton's _Cyclopaedia_:--

"Oliver, the youngest son of Etienne, was born in New York City, 16th September 1708; and died in Beverley, Yorkshire, England, 27th November 1785. He was originally a merchant, being a member of the firm founded by his father. He early took an active part in public affairs, and was noted for his decision of character and personal popularity. He represented the city of New York in the Assembly in 1756-60, and served as alderman of the out-ward from 1754 till 1757. He was active in military affairs during the entire French War, and, in 1755, obtained leave from Connecticut to raise men there for service in New York, for which he received the thanks of the Assembly of his own province. In March 1758 he was appointed to the command of the forces then being collected for the expedition against Crown Point, and succeeded in raising the entire New York City regiment within ten days. He was placed at the head of the New York contingent, under General Abercrombie (about 5000 strong), as Colonel-in-Chief. In the attack on Fort Ticonderoga, 8th July 1758, he supported Lord Howe, and was near that officer when he fell mortally wounded. In November of the same year the Assembly of New York again voted him its thanks 'for his great service, and singular care of the troops of the colony while under his command.' In 1760 he was appointed a member of the Provincial Council, retaining his seat until 1776. In 1763 he was made Receiver-General, and in 1773 Colonel-in-Chief of the Southern military district of the province. 'In June 1776,' says the historian Jones, 'he joined General Howe on Staten Island; and, had that officer profited by his honest advice, the American War, I will be bold to say, would have ended in a very different manner to what it did.' In September of that year he raised three regiments of Loyalists, largely at his own expense, of 500 men each, known as 'De Lancey's battalions.' Of these regiments a brigade was formed, and Colonel De Lancey was commissioned Brigadier-General in the Loyalist service. He was assigned to the command of Long Island, where he remained during the war. One of his battalions served in the South with great credit, under his son-in-law, Colonel John Harris Cruger, doing effective service in the defence of Fort Ninety-six against General Greene. In November 1777, his country-seat at Bloomingdale, on the Hudson, was robbed and burned at night by a party of Americans from the water-guard at Tarrytown, his wife and daughters being driven from the house in their night-dresses and compelled to spend the night in the fields, now the Central Park. Having been attainted, and his immense estates in New York and New Jersey confiscated, General De Lancey retired to England, where he resided in Beverley until his death. Of his four daughters, Susanna married Sir William Draper, while Charlotte became the wife of Sir David Dundas, K.C.B., who succeeded the Duke of York as Commander-in-Chief of the British Army."[7]

[Footnote 7: Appleton's _Cyclopaedia_, vol. ii., p. 132.]

In the Life of Van Schaak, his decease is mentioned thus by a fellow-Loyalist: "Our old friend has at last taken his departure from Beverley, which he said should hold his bones; he went off without pain or struggle, his body wasted to a skeleton, his mind the same. The family, most of them, collected in town (London). There will scarcely be a village in England without some American dust in it, I believe, by the time we are all at rest."[8]

[Footnote 8: _Loyalists of the American Revolution_ (Sabine), vol. i., 365.]

Stephen, the eldest son of Brigadier-General Oliver De Lancey, and father of Sir William De Lancey, was born in New York City about 1740; and died in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, December 1798. He was educated in England, and practised law in New York before the Revolutionary War, during which he served as Lieutenant-Colonel of the "De Lancey's" second battalion. After the war he was appointed Chief Justice of the Bahama Islands, and subsequently was made Governor of Tobago and its dependencies. His health becoming impaired while he held the latter office, he sailed for England to rejoin his family. But he grew rapidly worse on the voyage, and, at his own request, was transferred to an American vessel bound for Portsmouth, N.H., where he died, and was buried a few days after his arrival.[9]

[Footnote 9: The following is an extract from the Parish Register of St John's Church, Portsmouth, N.H.

--------------------------------------------------------------------- "1798. | RECORD OF DEATHS. --------------------------------------------------------------------- Decbr. 6th | His Excellency, _Stephen De Lancy_, Governour of | Tobago, who died, the night after his arrival | in the harbour of this town, of a decline which | had been upon him for six months, aged 50 | years." ---------------------------------------------------------------------

Mr De Lancey was buried in the Wentworth tomb, in St John's Churchyard, where many of the Wentworth Governors of New Hampshire and their families are buried.--ED.]

Sir William De Lancey, soldier, only son of the preceding, was born in New York about 1781,[10] and died in June 1815, in consequence of wounds received at the battle of Waterloo. He was educated in England, and early entered the British army. He served with great distinction under Wellington in Spain, and was several times honourably mentioned in his despatches.[11]

[Footnote 10: This date agrees with the tradition handed down in the family with Lady De Lancey's narrative, to the effect that he was only thirty-four at the time of his death at Waterloo.--ED.]

[Footnote 11: _Vide_ Gurwood's _Despatches of the Duke of Wellington_, 2nd edition, vol. iii., pp. 227 and 229; vol. v., p. 476; vol. vi., p. 542. Sir Harry Smith, a soldier of soldiers--"inter milites miles"--speaks of him in his Autobiography as "that gallant fellow De Lancey." (_Autobiography of Sir Harry Smith_, vol. i., p. 266.)]

Received after serving in the Peninsular War.

_In the possession of Major J.A. Hay._]

At the close of the war he was made a Knight of the Bath. When Napoleon landed from Elba, Wellington, in forming his staff, insisted on having De Lancey appointed as his Quartermaster-General. The officer really entitled to the promotion was Sir William's brother-in-law, Sir Hudson Lowe;[12] but as Wellington had conceived a dislike for him, he refused to accept that officer in that capacity. The military authorities, however, insisted on his appointment, and it was only when Wellington made the promotion of De Lancey a _sine qua non_ of his acceptance of the supreme command that the former yielded.[13] Six weeks before the battle of Waterloo, Sir William married the daughter of Sir James Hall[14] of Dunglass, the Scottish scientist. His bride accompanied him on the Continent. On the second day of the battle[15] Sir William was knocked from his horse by a spent cannon-ball, and it was at first supposed that he had been instantly killed. Thirty-six hours afterwards he was discovered, still alive and in his senses, but incapable of motion, although without any visible wound. Notwithstanding the skill of the surgeons, and the tender care of his wife, he succumbed to his injuries nine days after the battle.[16]

[Footnote 12: It was not till the 16th December 1815--six months after Waterloo--that Sir Hudson Lowe married Mrs Susan Johnson, sister of Sir William De Lancey. (_Dictionary of National Biography_, vol. xxxiv., p. 191.) See also _The Creevey Papers_, Third Edition (1905), p. 247.]

[Footnote 13: "Wellington assumed command in the Netherlands early in April 1815, and Lowe, who had been acting as Quartermaster-General in the Low Countries under the command of the Prince of Orange, remained for a few weeks under him as his Quartermaster-General; but having been nominated to command the troops in Genoa designed to co-operate with the Austro-Sardinian armies, he was replaced in May by Sir William Howe De Lancey." (_Dictionary of National Biography_, art. "Lowe, Sir Hudson," vol. xxxiv., p. 191.) See also _The Creevey Papers_, Third Edition (1905), p. 247.

The following extract of a letter from Major-General Sir H. Torrens to Earl Bathurst, Secretary for War, dated Ghent, 8th April 1815, alludes to the hitch about Sir Hudson Lowe: "I shall communicate fully with the Commander-in-Chief upon the Duke of Wellington's wishes respecting his Staff.... As you were somewhat anxious about Sir Hudson Lowe, I must apprise you that he will not do for the Duke." (_Supplementary Despatches of the Duke of Wellington_, vol. x., pp. 42 and 43.) (_Cf._ _The Creevey Papers_, Third Edition (1905), p. 289.)

Evidently Sir Hudson Lowe was no more of a _persona grata_ to Wellington than he afterwards became to Napoleon!

A letter from Major-General Sir H. Torrens, who appears to have been acting at the time as Military Secretary to the Duke of York, Commander-in-Chief at the Horse Guards, written to the Duke of Wellington from London on the 16th April 1815, shows the high estimation in which the Duke held De Lancey's services:--

"De Lancey is in town on his way to go out.... I told him the very handsome and complimentary manner in which you asked for his services, and assured him that nothing could be so gratifying, in my view of the case, to his military and professional feelings as the desire you expressed to me of having him again with you." (_Supplementary Despatches of the Duke of Wellington_, vol. x., p. 130.)

That the Duke felt deeply the interference of Headquarters with his selection of Staff Officers is clearly shown by the following letter, written by him to Earl Bathurst, Secretary for War, dated Bruxelles, 4th May 1815:--

"To tell you the truth, I am not very well pleased with the manner in which the Horse Guards have conducted themselves towards me. It will be admitted that the army is not a very good one, and, being composed as it is, I might have expected that the Generals and Staff formed by me in the last war would have been allowed to come to me again; but instead of that, I am overloaded with people I have never seen before; and it appears to be purposely intended to keep those out of my way whom I wished to have. However I'll do the best I can with the instruments which have been sent to assist me." (_Supplementary Despatches of the Duke of Wellington_, vol. x., p. 219.)]

[Footnote 14: See _Dictionary of National Biography_, vol. xxiv., p. 68.]

[Footnote 15: On the 18th June, at Waterloo; the battle of Quatre Bras having been fought on the 16th.--ED.]

[Footnote 16: Appleton's _Cyclopaedia_, vol. ii., pp. 132, 133.]

There are several references to De Lancey's death in the "_Letters of Colonel Sir Augustus S. Frazer, K.C.B._, commanding the R.H.A. in the army under the Duke of Wellington, written during the Peninsular and Waterloo campaigns," edited by Major-General Sir Edward Sabine, R.A. On the 29th June Sir Augustus writes to Lady Frazer from Mons: "I regret to state that poor De Lancey is dead; so Hume, the Duke's surgeon, told me. He had opened the body; eight ribs were forced from the spine, one totally broke to pieces, and part of it in the lungs. Poor De Lancey! He is our greatest loss; a noble fellow and an admirable officer," p. 582.

In connection with the foregoing, it will be interesting to compare the account of De Lancey's wound given in the _Dictionary of National Biography_:--

"The Duke of Wellington gave the following version of the
occurrence to Samuel Rogers: 'De Lancey was with me, and
speaking to me when he was struck. We were on a point of land
that overlooked the plain. I had just been warned off by some
soldiers (but as I saw well from it, and two divisions were
engaging below, I said "Never mind"), when a ball came
bounding along _en ricochet_, as it is called, and, striking
him on the back, sent him many yards over the head of his
horse. He fell on his face, and bounded upwards and fell
again. All the staff dismounted and ran to him, and when I
came up he said, 'Pray tell them to leave me and let me die
in peace.' I had him conveyed to the rear, and two days
after, on my return from Brussels, I saw him in a barn, and
he spoke with such strength that I said (for I had reported
him killed), 'Why! De Lancey, you will have the advantage of
Sir Condy in "Castle Rackrent"--you will know what your
friends said of you after you were dead.' 'I hope I shall,'
he replied. Poor fellow! We knew each other ever since we
were boys. But I had no time to be sorry. I went on with the
army, and never saw him again."[17]

[Footnote 17: "Recollections of Samuel Rogers," under "Waterloo." From the article on "Sir William De Lancey," by H. Manners Chichester, in the _Dictionary of National Biography_, vol. xiv., pp. 304, 305.]

The following is the extract from Wellington's official despatch of the 19th June, referring to De Lancey:--

"I had every reason to be satisfied with the conduct of the
Adjutant-General, Major-General Barnes, who was wounded, and
of the Quartermaster-General, Colonel De Lancey, who was
killed by a cannon-shot in the middle of the action. This
officer is a serious loss to His Majesty's service, and to me
at this moment."[18]

[Footnote 18: Gurwood, vol. viii., p. 150. _Cf._ _Letters of Colonel Sir Augustus S. Frazer, K.C.B._, dated Nivelles, June 20: "De Lancey is said to be dead: this is our greatest loss, none can be greater, public or private," p. 550.]

At the end of the despatch there is a _P.S._ announcing the death of Major-General Sir William Ponsonby, followed by a second _P.S._ couched in the following terms: "I have not yet got the returns of killed and wounded, but I enclose a list of officers killed and wounded on the two days, as far as the same can be made out without the returns; and I am very happy to add that Colonel De Lancey is not dead, and that strong hopes of his recovery are entertained."

That the Duke felt keenly his severe losses in killed and wounded, especially amongst the members of his Staff, is shown by the following reminiscence of General Alava,[19] as told by him, two years after the battle, to Sir Harry Smith and his wife--the lady now immortalised by the name Ladysmith, emblazoned on the colours or accoutrements of thirty-five British regiments.

[Footnote 19: A Spanish naval officer who served on the Staff of the Duke of Wellington during the Peninsular War and at Waterloo. Alava enjoyed the unique distinction of having been present both at Trafalgar and Waterloo. At the former battle he commanded a Spanish line-of-battle ship.--ED.]

On the evening of the battle, "the Duke got back to his quarters at Waterloo about nine or ten at night. The table was laid for the usual number, while none appeared of the many of his Staff but Alava and Fremantle. The Duke said very little, ate hastily and heartily, but every time the door opened he gave a searching look, evidently in the hope of some of his valuable Staff approaching. When he had finished eating, he held up both hands in an imploring attitude and said, 'The hand of Almighty God has been upon me this day,' jumped up, went to his couch, and was asleep in a moment."[20]

[Footnote 20: _Autobiography of Sir Harry Smith_, vol. i., p. 291.]

The following is from General Alava's official report of the action: "Of those who were by the side of the Duke of Wellington, only he and myself remained untouched in our persons and horses. The rest were all either killed, wounded, or lost one or more horses. The Duke was unable to refrain from tears on witnessing the death of so many brave and honourable men, and the loss of so many friends and faithful companions."[21]

[Footnote 21: From the _Supplement to the Madrid Gazette_ of the 13th July 1815, quoted in the London _Evening Mail_ of August 2 to August 4, 1815.]

The next morning, the Duke wrote the following note to Lady Frances W. Webster, dated

"BRUXELLES, 19_th_ _June_ 1815.

"Half-past 8 in the morning.

"MY DEAR LADY FRANCES,

"Lord Mount-Norris may remain in Bruxelles in perfect
security. I yesterday, after a most severe and bloody
contest, gained a complete victory, and pursued the French
till after dark. They are in complete confusion; and I have,
I believe, 150 pieces of cannon; and Bluecher, who continued
the pursuit all night, my soldiers being tired to death,
sent me word this morning that he had got 60 more. My loss
is immense. Lord Uxbridge, Lord Fitzroy Somerset, General
Cooke, General Barnes, and Colonel Berkeley are wounded:
Colonel De Lancey, Canning, Gordon, General Picton
killed.[22] The finger of Providence was upon me, and I
escaped unhurt.--Believe me, etc.,[23]

"WELLINGTON."

[Footnote 22: All the foregoing were on the General Staff of the Army or on the Duke's personal Staff.--ED.]

[Footnote 23: _Supplementary Despatches of the Duke of Wellington_, vol. x., p. 531.]

Captain Gronow--a subaltern of the 1st Guards at Waterloo--gives us the following glimpse of the Duke and his Staff, on the morning of the 18th, before the opening of the battle:--

"The road was ankle-deep in mud and slough; and we had not
proceeded a quarter of a mile when we heard the trampling of
horses' feet, and on looking round perceived a large
cavalcade of officers coming at full speed. In a moment we
recognised the Duke himself at their head. He was accompanied
by the Duke of Richmond, and his son, Lord William Lennox.
The entire Staff of the army was close at hand: the Prince of
Orange, Count Pozzo di Borgo, Baron Vincent, the Spanish
General Alava, Prince Castel Cicala, with their several
aides-de-camp; Felton Hervey, Fitzroy Somerset, and De Lancey
were the last that appeared. They all seemed as gay and
unconcerned as if they were riding to meet the hounds in some
quiet English county."[24]

[Footnote 24: _Recollections and Anecdotes_, by Captain Gronow, p. 186.]

Colonel Basil Jackson, who in 1815 was a lieutenant in the Royal Staff Corps, attached to the Quartermaster-General's department (see Dalton's _Waterloo Roll Call_, p. 38), gives the following interesting reminiscences of De Lancey on the 17th, at Quatre Bras, and during the retreat to Waterloo on the same day: "Some few changes were made in the disposition of the troops after the Duke of Wellington arrived on the ground, soon after daylight; arms were then piled, and the men, still wearied with their exertions of marching and fighting on the preceding day, lay down to snatch a little more rest. The Duke, too, after riding about and satisfying himself that all was as it should be, dismounted and stretched himself on the ground, very near the point where the road from Brussels to Charleroi crossed that leading from Nivelles to Namur, forming thereby the _Quatre Bras_....

"I remained for some time at a short distance from the great man, who occasionally addressed a few words to Lord Fitzroy Somerset, Sir E. Barnes, De Lancey, and others of his principal officers. He was then awaiting the return of Sir Alexander Gordon, who had gone off by the Namur road, some time between 6 and 7 o'clock, escorted by a squadron of the 10th Hussars. I had seen this detachment start at a round trot, but of course knew not the object of despatching it; which, as we learned afterwards, was to gain intelligence of Bluecher's operations, whose defeat at Ligny we, that is, the army generally, were ignorant of, though the Duke was aware of it.

"I availed myself of this period of quietness to go and examine particularly the ground which had been so hardly contested the day before....

"Returning to the place where I had left the Duke when I set out on my ramble round the outposts, I found him still on the same spot; where he remained till Gordon and his escort came in with jaded horses, soon after 10 o'clock. On hearing his report, the Duke said a few words to De Lancey, who, observing me near him, directed me to go to Sir Thomas Picton, and tell him the orders were to make immediate preparation for falling back upon Waterloo....

"Just as the retreat commenced (about noon), I was ordered off to Mont St Jean, where I was told I should meet the Quartermaster-General; accordingly I made for Genappe, and as the high road was by that time filled with troops, being, moreover, careless of the farmer's interest, I took a short cut through the corn-fields, in such a direction as enabled me to strike into that village about its centre. There I found sad confusion prevailing; country waggons with stores, ammunition tumbrils, provision waggons, and wounded men, choked up the street, so that it was impossible for any one to pass. Aware of the great importance of freeing the passage at a time when the retiring troops might be pressed by the enemy, I at once set to work to remedy the disorder that prevailed. Let the reader picture to himself Police Constable 61 C posted at the pastry-cook's corner where Gracechurch Street enters Cheapside, at a moment when those passages, together with Bishopsgate and Leadenhall Streets are blocked up by 'buses, drays, waggons, carts, advertising locomotives, private carriages, and dodging cabs, when that unhappy functionary is vainly striving to restore order and clear the ways, and he will have some idea of the difficulty I experienced in executing my self-imposed task. Happily, I was acquainted with some pithy expressions in two or three languages, which were familiar to the ears of those I had to deal with; and these, together with the flat of my sword, proved very efficacious in the end. While in the thick of this scene of tumult and confusion, I felt some one clap me on the shoulder, and on looking round saw Sir W. De Lancey. 'You are very well employed here,' said he; 'remain, and keep the way clear for the troops; I shall not want you at Waterloo.' Encouraged by my chief's commendation I redoubled my efforts, and had soon the satisfaction of seeing the defile free."[25]

[Footnote 25: "Recollections of Waterloo," by a Staff Officer, in _United Service Journal_ for 1847, Part III., p. 11.]

"A week after the battle"--to quote again from the article by H. Manners Chichester in the _Dictionary of National Biography_--"De Lancey succumbed to his injuries, in a peasant's cottage in the village of Waterloo, where he was tenderly nursed by his young wife, who had joined him in Brussels a few days before the battle. According to another account, De Lancey was laid down at his own request when being conveyed to the rear, and so was left out untended all night and part of the next day. Rogers, in a note, states that he was killed by 'the wind of the shot,' his skin not being broken; and also that Lady De Lancey left a manuscript account of his last days."

From a miniature after J.D. Engleheart]

This manuscript account was written in the first instance by Lady De Lancey for the information of her brother, Captain Basil Hall, R.N. The original manuscript has been lost sight of. An early copy, which was made by Mrs Basil Hall, is now in the possession of their grand-daughter, Lady Parsons. Copies would appear to have been made by members of the family at various times; but the existence of the narrative was apparently not known to Edward Floyd De Lancey, the historian of the family in Appleton's _Cyclopaedia_. Besides the copy of the narrative made by Mrs Basil Hall, another copy came into the possession of the poet Rogers. This copy is now owned by W. Arthur Sharpe, Esq., Highgate, N. Both the above versions--which contain only slight variations--have been consulted in the present edition of the narrative.

Captain Basil Hall, R.N. (vide _Dictionary of National Biography_, vol. xxiv., p. 58), was a well-known author in his day, his best known work being _Fragments of Voyages and Travels_, published in three series between 1831 and 1833, and frequently reprinted since.

In Volume II. of the first series, Captain Hall alludes to his first meeting with De Lancey. It occurred on board H.M.S. _Endymion_ on the morning of the 18th January 1809, when the British troops had all been safely embarked on the transports, the second day after the battle of Corunna.

Basil Hall--then a lieutenant in the navy--and De Lancey[26] struck up a great friendship on the _Endymion_, and the former introduced his soldier friend after the voyage home to his family in Scotland. The marriage of De Lancey six years afterwards to Basil Hall's sister Magdalene was a result of this introduction.

[Footnote 26: De Lancey was at this time a lieutenant-colonel and permanent assistant in the quartermaster-general's department (Army List, 1809, p. 323).

His first commission as a cornet in the 16th Light Dragoons bore the date 7th July 1792 (Army List, 1793, p. 50), when he was only eleven years old.

He was gazetted lieutenant in the same regiment on the 26th February 1793, and was subsequently transferred to the 80th Foot.

On the 20th October 1796 he was gazetted captain in the 17th Light Dragoons, of which regiment his uncle, General Oliver De Lancey, was then colonel.

He obtained a majority in the 45th (or Nottinghamshire) Regiment of Foot on the 17th October 1799. He was by this time eighteen years of age, and up to this date had probably no connection with the army at all beyond drawing his pay and figuring in the Army List. Even now he does not appear to have joined his regiment until its return from the West Indies, a year or two afterwards (_Dict. Nat. Biog._, vol. xiv., p. 305). His first uniform was probably that of the 45th Foot, and the portrait, forming the frontispiece of this volume, was in all likelihood painted on his first joining the regiment as a major in 1800 or 1801.

In the Army List of 1804 he is shown on page 31 as an assistant quartermaster-general. His actual regimental service can therefore hardly have exceeded two or three years. Until his death in 1815, he was continuously on the staff of the army in the quartermaster-general's department.]

The following extract from Captain Basil Hall's _Fragments of Voyages and Travels_, gives an account of the first meeting of the two friends on board the _Endymion_, and of the dramatic circumstances under which Captain Hall heard the news of his sister's marriage, and of De Lancey's death at Waterloo:--

"As we in the _Endymion_ had the exclusive charge of the convoy of transports, we remained to the very last, to assist the ships with provisions, and otherwise to regulate the movements of the stragglers. Whilst we were thus engaged, and lying to, with our main-topsail to the mast, a small Spanish boat came alongside, with two or three British officers in her. On these gentlemen being invited to step up, and say what they wanted, one of them begged we would inform him where the transport No. 139 was to be found.

"'How can we possibly tell you that?' said the officer of the watch. 'Don't you see the ships are scattered as far as the horizon in every direction? You had much better come on board this ship in the meantime.'

"'No, sir, no,' cried the officers; 'we have received directions to go on board the transport 139, and her we must find.'

"'What is all this about?' inquired the captain of the _Endymion_; and being told of the scruples of the strangers, insisted upon their coming up. He very soon explained to them the utter impossibility, at such a moment, of finding out any particular transport amongst between three and four hundred ships, every one of which was following her own way. We found out afterwards that they only were apprehensive of having it imagined they had designedly come to the frigate for better quarters. Nothing, of course, was farther from our thoughts; indeed, it was evidently the result of accident. So we sent away their little boat, and just at that moment the gun-room steward announced breakfast. We invited our new friends down, and gave them a hearty meal in peace and comfort--a luxury they had not enjoyed for many a long and rugged day.

"Our next care was to afford our tired warriors the much-required comforts of a razor and clean linen. We divided the party amongst us; and I was so much taken with one of these officers, that I urged him to accept such accommodation as my cabin and wardrobe afforded. He had come to us without one stitch of clothes beyond what he then wore, and these, to say the truth, were not in the best condition, at the elbows and other angular points of his frame. Let that pass--he was as fine a fellow as ever stepped; and I had much pride and pleasure in taking care of him during the passage.

"We soon became great friends; but on reaching England we parted, and I never saw him more. Of course he soon lost sight of me, but his fame rose high, and, as I often read his name in the Gazettes during the subsequent campaigns in the Peninsula, I looked forward with a gradually increasing anxiety to the renewal of an acquaintance begun so auspiciously. At last I was gratified by a bright flash of hope in this matter, which went out, alas, as speedily as it came. Not quite six years after these events, I came home from India, in command of a sloop of war. Before entering the Channel, we fell in with a ship which gave us the first news of the battle of Waterloo, and spared us a precious copy of the Duke of Wellington's despatch; and within five minutes after landing at Portsmouth, I met a near relation of my own. This seemed a fortunate rencontre, for I had not received a letter from home for nearly a year--and I eagerly asked him--

"'What news of all friends?'

"'I suppose,' he said, 'you know of your sister's marriage?'

"'No, indeed! I do not!--which sister?'

"He told me.

"'But to whom is she married?' I cried out with intense impatience, and wondering greatly that he had not told me this at once.

"'Sir William De Lancey was the person,' he answered. But he spoke not in the joyous tone that befits such communications.

"'God bless me!' I exclaimed. 'I am delighted to hear that. I know him well--we picked him up in a boat, at sea, after the battle of Corunna, and I brought him home in my cabin in the _Endymion_. I see by the despatch, giving an account of the late victory, that he was badly wounded--how is he now? I observe by the postscript to the Duke's letter that strong hopes are entertained of his recovery.'

"'Yes,' said my friend, 'that was reported, but could hardly have been believed. Sir William was mortally wounded, and lived not quite a week after the action. The only comfort about this sad matter is, that his poor wife, being near the field at the time, joined him immediately after the battle, and had the melancholy satisfaction of attending her husband to the last!'"[27]

[Footnote 27: _Fragments of Voyages and Travels_, by Captain Basil Hall, R.N., 1831, vol. ii., pp. 367-371.]

It was, as before stated, at Captain Hall's request that Lady De Lancey wrote the memorable Waterloo narrative.

In order to satisfy the natural curiosity of friends--who had probably heard of the narrative in Captain Hall's possession--Lady De Lancey prepared an abridged version, in more general terms, and of a much more reserved character than the original account, written for her brother only.

This condensed account was found amongst the papers of her nephew, General De Lancey Lowe, after his death in 1880. His widow published it in the _Illustrated Naval and Military Magazine_ for 1888, p. 414.

In some few instances this abridged account contains descriptive touches not given in the original narrative. These variations are given in the form of notes to the present edition of the narrative.

Thomas Moore in his diary for the 29th August 1824 describes the circumstances under which Captain Hall lent him his copy of the narrative as follows:--

"A note early from Lord Lansdowne, to say that Capt. Basil Hall, who is at Bowood, wishes much to see me; and that if I cannot come over to-day to either luncheon or dinner, he will call upon me to-morrow. Answered that I would come to dinner to-day. Walked over at five.... Company, only Capt. Basil Hall, Luttrel, and Nugent, and an _ad interim_ tutor of Kerry's.... Hall gave me, before I came away, a journal written by his sister, Lady De Lancey, containing an account of the death of her husband at Waterloo, and her attendance upon him there, they having been but three months married. Walked home; took the narrative to bed with me to read a page or two, but found it so deeply interesting, that I read till near two o'clock, and finished it; made myself quite miserable, and went to sleep, I believe, crying. Hall said he would call upon me to-morrow."[28]

[Footnote 28: _Memoirs, Journal, and Correspondence of Thomas Moore_, edited by Lord John Russell, vol. iv., p. 239.]

Earl Stanhope, in his _Notes of Conversations with the Duke of Wellington_, p. 182, writes as follows: "I mentioned with much praise Lady De Lancey's narrative of her husband's lingering death and of her own trials and sufferings after Waterloo. The Duke told me that he had seen it--Lord Bathurst having lent it him many years ago." This conversation took place on the 12th October 1839.

The two most famous literary men to whom Captain Basil Hall lent the narrative, were, however, Sir Walter Scott and Charles Dickens.

Sir Walter Scott writes under date Abbotsford, 13th October 1825, that his publisher, Constable, thinks that the narrative "would add very great interest as an addition to the letters which I wrote from Paris soon after Waterloo, and certainly I would consider it as one of the most valuable and important documents which could be published as illustrative of the woes of war."[29]

"I never read anything which affected my own feelings more
strongly, or which, I am sure, would have a deeper interest
on [_sic_] those of the public....

"Perhaps it may be my own high admiration of the contents of
this heartrending diary, which makes me suppose a
possibility that after such a lapse of years, the
publication may possibly (as that which cannot but do the
highest honour to the memory of the amiable authoress) may
[_sic_] not be judged altogether inadmissible....--Most
truly yours,

"WALTER SCOTT."[30]

[Footnote 29: Perhaps the _Memoires de Madame la Marquise de Larochejaquelein_ of which four editions were published between 1814 and 1817--one of the noblest and most touching of autobiographies--is the nearest parallel in literature to Lady De Lancey's narrative. The French Marchioness describes her experiences in Paris in 1789, and during the Insurrection of La Vendee in 1793.--ED.]

[Footnote 30: The complete letter will be found in Appendix A of this volume.]

The following is a transcript of the most remarkable passages in Dickens' letter:--

"DEVONSHIRE TERRACE,

_"Tuesday evening_, 16_th_ _March_ 1841.

"MY DEAR HALL, ...

"I have not had courage until last night to read Lady De
Lancey's narrative, and, but for your letter, I should not
have mastered it even then. One glance at it, when, through
your kindness, it first arrived, had impressed me with a
foreboding of its terrible truth, and I really have shrunk
from it in pure lack of heart.

"After working at Barnaby all day, and wandering about the
most wretched and distressful streets for a couple of hours
in the evening--searching for some pictures I wanted to
build upon--I went at it, at about ten o'clock. To say that
the reading that most astonishing and tremendous account has
constituted an epoch in my life--that I shall never forget
the lightest word of it--that I cannot throw the impression
aside, and never saw anything so real, so touching, and so
actually present before my eyes, is nothing. I am husband
and wife, dead man and living woman, Emma and General
Dundas, doctor and bedstead--everything and everybody (but
the Prussian officer--damn him) all in one. What I have
always looked upon as masterpieces of powerful and
affecting description, seem as nothing in my eyes. If I live
for fifty years, I shall dream of it every now and then,
from this hour to the day of my death, with the most
frightful reality. The slightest mention of a battle will
bring the whole thing before me. I shall never think of the
Duke any more but as he stood in his shirt with the officer
in full-dress uniform, or as he dismounted from his horse
when the gallant man was struck down. It is a striking proof
of the power of that most extraordinary man, Defoe, that I
seem to recognise in every line of the narrative something
of him. Has this occurred to you? The going to Waterloo with
that unconsciousness of everything in the road, but the
obstacles to getting on--the shutting herself up in her room
and determining not to hear--the not going to the door when
the knocking came--the finding out by her wild spirits when
she heard he was safe, how much she had feared when in doubt
and anxiety--the desperate desire to move towards him--the
whole description of the cottage, and its condition; and
their daily shifts and contrivances, and the lying down
beside him in the bed and both _falling asleep_; and his
resolving not to serve any more, but to live quietly
thenceforth; and her sorrow when she saw him eating with an
appetite, so soon before his death; and his death
itself--all these are matters of truth, which only that
astonishing creature, I think, could have told in fiction.

"Of all the beautiful and tender passages--the thinking
every day how happy and blest she was--the decorating him
for the dinner--the standing in the balcony at night and
seeing the troops melt away through the gate--and the
rejoining him on his sick-bed--I say not a word. They are
God's own, and should be sacred. But let me say again, with
an earnestness which pen and ink can no more convey than
toast and water, in thanking you heartily for the perusal of
this paper, that its impression on me can never be told;
that the ground she travelled (which I know well) is holy
ground to me from this day; and that, please Heaven, I will
tread its every foot this very next summer, to have the
softened recollection of this sad story on the very earth
where it was acted.

"You won't smile at this, I know. When my enthusiasms are
awakened by such things, they don't wear out....--Faithfully
yours,

"CHARLES DICKENS."[31]

[Footnote 31: The complete letter will be found in Appendix A of this volume.]

Many literary and artistic masterpieces have grouped themselves round Waterloo. One of the most striking passages in _Vanity Fair_ refers to an imaginary incident in connection with the battle. Sir Walter Scott once said that in the whole range of English poetry there was nothing finer than the stanzas in _Childe Harold_, commencing with the line--

"There was a sound of revelry by night,"

and ending with the words--

"Rider and horse, friend, foe, in one red burial blent."

Tennyson's _Ode on the Death of the Duke of Wellington_ ranks as a funeral dirge with _Lycidas_ and _Adonais_. Napoleon's tomb in the Invalides may hold its own almost with the Taj. Yet, when all is said and done, the fact remains that no hero of the battle, and indeed few victims of war, have ever received a more touching memorial than the one here set forth in the sight of all future generations of men by the love and the literary genius of Lady De Lancey.

B.R. WARD.

HALIFAX, N.S.,
_April_ 1906.

A WEEK AT WATERLOO IN 1815

I arrived at Brussels on Thursday, 8th June 1815, and was much surprised at the peaceful appearance of that town, and the whole country from Ostend. We were billeted in the house of the Count de Lannoy, in the Park, which is a square of very beautiful houses with fine large trees in the centre. The Count de Lannoy was very attentive, and we had a suite of very excellent rooms, up four stories, which is the fashion in that country, I believe. It was amusing enough, sometimes, to see from our windows the people parading in the Park. I saw very little of the town, and still less of the inhabitants; for notwithstanding Sir William's belief that we should remain quietly there for a month at least, I have the comfort of remembering that, as there was a chance we might separate in a few days, I wasted no time in visiting or going to balls, which I did not care for, and therefore I never went out, except for an hour or two every afternoon, to walk with Sir William.

The people in general dined between three and four, we dined at six; we walked while others were at dinner, so that literally I never saw anybody, except some gentlemen, two or three of whom dined with us every day--Sir William's friends, whom he brought to introduce to me.

I never passed such a delightful time, for there was always enough of very pleasant society to keep us gay and merry, and the rest of the day was spent in peaceful happiness.

Fortunately my husband had scarcely any business to do, and he only went to the office for about an hour every day. I then used to sit and think with astonishment of my being transported into such a scene of happiness, so perfect, so unalloyed!--feeling that I was entirely enjoying life--not a moment wasted. How active and how well I was! I scarcely knew what to do with all my health and spirits. Now and then a pang would cross my mind at the prospect of the approaching campaign, but I chased away the thought, resolved not to lose the present bliss by dwelling on the chance of future pain. Sir William promised to let me know as soon as he knew himself, everything concerning the movement of the army; and accordingly he gave me every paper to read, to keep my mind easy. After some consideration, he decided that upon the commencement of hostilities I should go to Antwerp, and there remain till the end of the campaign, which might last months. He wished me not to think of going along with him, because the rear of a great army was always dangerous, and an unfit situation for a woman; and he wished not to draw me into any scenes, or near any danger, more than if I had remained in England. He little thought I should be in the midst of horrors I would not pass again for any being _now_ living; and alas, the cautious anxiety he expressed that I should avoid being shocked, only made me feel more desolate and miserable when I found myself in the midst of most terrible scenes.

Several other officers, on hearing that he designed to send me to Antwerp, fixed that their wives should go there too. It is a very strongly fortified town, and likewise having the sea to escape by, if necessary, it was by far the safest place; and being only twenty-five miles from Brussels, it added so little to the time of hearing from him, if separated, that I acquiesced cheerfully. After this was arranged, we never thought more about it, and enjoyed each hour as it passed with no more anxiety than was sufficient to render time precious.

On Wednesday the 14th, I had a little alarm in the evening with some public papers, and Sir William went out with them, but returned in a short time; and it passed by so completely, that Thursday(1) forenoon was the happiest day of my life; but I cannot recollect a day of my short married life that was not perfect. I shall never get on if I begin to talk of what my happiness was; but I dread to enter on the gloomy past, which I shudder to look back upon, and I often wonder I survived it. We little dreamt that Thursday was the last we were to pass together, and that the storm would burst so soon. Sir William had to dine at the Spanish Ambassador's,(2) the first invitation he had accepted from the time I went; he was unwilling to go, and delayed and still delayed, till at last when near six, I fastened all his medals and crosses on his coat, helped him to put it on, and he went.(3) I watched at the window till he was out of sight, and then I continued musing on my happy fate; I thought over all that had passed, and how grateful I felt! I had no wish but that this might continue; I saw my husband loved and respected by everyone, my life gliding on, like a gay dream, in his care.

When I had remained at the window nearly an hour, I saw an aide-de-camp ride under the gateway of our house. He sent to enquire where Sir William was dining. I wrote down the name; and soon after I saw him gallop off in that direction. I did not like this appearance, but I tried not to be afraid. A few minutes after, I saw Sir William on the same horse gallop past to the Duke's,(4) which was a few doors beyond ours. He dismounted and ran into the house--left the horse in the middle of the street. I must confess my courage failed me now, and the succeeding two hours formed a contrast to the happy forenoon.