Before and after Waterloo Part 13

When Napoleon had fulfilled his own prophecies of the prompt disturbance of the Peace of Europe by landing at Cannes, just six days from the date of this last letter, Lord Sheffield writes again, after war had been declared by the Allies.

_Lord Sheffield to Sir John Stanley._

SHEFFIELD PLACE, _March 24, 1815_.

I was greatly oppressed by the first intelligence of Napoleon's Invasion. I was afterwards re-elevated, and now I am tumbled down again.

To be sure, there never was such an execrable nation as the French. The much more respectable Hindoos could not more meekly submit to any conqueror that chooses to run through their country at the head of a set of miscreant soldiers. The Pretorian band that in the time of Imperial Rome used to dispose of Empires is perfectly re-established. Immediate notice was sent me from Newhaven of the Duke of Feltre's[102] (Minister of War) arrival there, and of poor Louis's flight from Paris.

I immediately set out, with the intention of rendering service to the variety of wretches that were pouring in upon our coast, English and French, but on my way called at Stanmer, where I found that this famous Minister of War was gone forward to London, that the few ship-loads that had got over to Newhaven were disposed of, and an embargo having been laid on the Ports of France, of course there was nothing more to be done on our coast.

I returned home at night, and just as I was going out of Stanmer Park I met the Duke of Taranto[103] entering, for whom Lord Chichester had sent his carriage. The Duke of Feltre brought the intelligence that the King was at Abbeville.

I was considerably annoyed, because it seemed like inclining to England, and relinquishing all hopes of France. At Abbeville he certainly might turn off to Lisle, where I hope he is gone, and there, if there be any loyal Frenchmen, they may flock round his standard.

All accounts, and letters, that I have seen from France agree that the country is almost universally against Buonaparte, and it is very clear all the Army is for him, and that all the Marshals adhere to Louis, except two. If so, and Napoleon has not the aid of his old Generals, he may find it difficult to manage the many Armies that he must keep on foot to repel the attacks that will be made on him from all sides.

I cannot help thinking he is in a bad situation still. When all the Russians, Cossacks, Croats, Hungarians, Austrians, and all Germany clatter round him, and our very respectable army from the Netherlands advances, if he has nothing but the army in his favour, he will be considerably bothered, and I hope the sentimental, silly Alexander will never be suffered to interfere with his "beaux sentimens" in favour of the monster. If he should be taken and I had the command I should never trouble Alexander nor anybody else, but take him by the Drum head, giving something like the sort of trial the Duc d'Enghien had and immediately extinguish him by exactly the same process, ceremony, &c., as he practised on the Duc d'Enghien.

After all, and the worst of all, is that I apprehend we must pay the piper to enable the above-mentioned Hordes to take possession of France, and when there I flatter myself they will live upon the country. If we do not make some effort of the kind, all the money we have shed may be in a great degree thrown away. One great difficulty occurs to me, how will it be possible to dispose of the present French Army if it should be conquered, and how raise a French Army to maintain Louis's dominion?

If Napoleon should be utterly extinguished, it may be possible to do something, but if he escapes (yet I know not where he can go) a large foreign Army must remain a long time in France.

I must conclude by observing what a very extraordinary, strange creature a Frenchman is! Instead of attending the King, or suppressing Navy Depots where there are only fifty loyal men, the Minister of War flies to England, and, as he represented, in order to join the King in Flanders. At Paris he was certainly nearer Flanders than he was at Dieppe....

Yours ever,

SHEFFIELD.

The Victory of Waterloo ended all fears of a fresh Imperial Despotism, and also all the hopes of those who, like Lord Sheffield and the Stanley family, were no great admirers of the Bourbon Dynasty.

Edward Stanley's desire to revisit France was now coupled with a wish to realise the scene of the late Campaign, and he planned his journey so as to arrive there on the first anniversary of the battle, June 18, 1816.

He was accompanied by Mrs. Stanley, by his brother-in-law, Edward Leycester Penrhyn,[104] who had travelled with him in 1814, and by their mutual friend, Donald Crawford.

Mrs. Stanley's bright and graphic letters contribute to the story of their adventures, and are added to make it complete.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Corn Mills at Vernon, July 11 1816._

_To face p. 247._]

CHAPTER VII

AFTER WATERLOO

A long Channel pa.s.sage--Bruges--The battlefield--A posting journey--Compiegne--Paris--Michael Bruce.

_Mrs. E. Stanley to Lady Maria Stanley._

_Spring, 1816._

...Edward has long talked of a week at Waterloo, and all the rest of the plan came tumbling after one day in talking it over with Edward Leycester, as naturally as possible, and I expect almost as much pleasure in seeing Cambridge and being introduced to the looks and manners at least of E. L.'s friends, and in seeing him there as in anything else. We are to pay a visit to Sir George and Lady Scovell at Cambray, and perhaps to Sheffield Place, on our return....

ST. JOHN'S COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE, _June, 1816_.

I am very glad to have this opportunity of seeing what a college life is, as well as seeing Cambridge itself and its contents animate and inanimate. I like both very much.

We had a very pleasant journey. The road is not only prettier by Ashbourne and Derby, but better, and, provided your nerves can stand cantering down hill sometimes, you get on faster than on the other road.

We drank tea at Nottingham on Monday and went up to the Castle.

We arrived at Cambridge by 6 o'clock on Tuesday evening, and found Edward deep in his studies....

This morning we breakfasted with George,[105] and, after seeing libraries and people and buildings till I am tired, here I am, snug and comfortable, in Edward's room....

We are off to-morrow for London.

_Mrs. E. Stanley to Lady Maria Josepha Stanley._

BLENHEIM HOTEL, LONDON, _Sat.u.r.day_.

As we were coming yesterday Edward looked at the wind and decided that if Donald was not in the Thames then, he would have no chance of being here this week. We had not been here an hour when in he walked in high feather and gave me more reasons than I can remember for leaving his sisters and going with us....

I have been to Waterloo[106] and in Buonaparte's carriage. He has given an alarm by writing to France in spite of all their precautions.... We have got our pa.s.sports and arranged our going. Edward came back from the city with three plans--the steamboat, the packet, or a coach to ourselves to Ramsgate. We debated the three some time, at last, on the strength of hearing that the steamboat had been out two nights on its pa.s.sage once, we decided on the coach, and the places were just secured when Mr. Foljambe came in and told us he was going to Ramsgate on Tuesday with some other friends of Edward's, and that it was the nicest vessel ever seen and more punctual than any coach, which made us all very angry as you may guess.... We set out to-morrow morning and get into the packet at Ramsgate at 7 in the evening. Let me find a nice folio at Paris, care of Perrigaux, Banquier, and I shall not feel your handwriting the least interesting thing I have to see there.

_Rev. E. Stanley to his niece, Louisa Dorothea Stanley._

RAMSGATE, _June 11th_.

Rapidly went the coach from Canterbury, 17 miles in an hour and a half.

Fair blows the wind over the azure blue billow. "You will breakfast at Ostend," says the Captain, "to-morrow." "Oh, that Louisa were here!"

says Donald. "She would die of delight," says Uncle, "and does not Uncle say true?" Conceive the view from Nottingham Castle on the evening we left Alderley ... a n.o.ble precipice, frowning over a magnificent plain, from the terraces of which we beheld immediately at our feet almost numberless--for I counted in a second 54--little pets of gardens, each adorned with a love of a summerhouse to suit; in the corners of the rocks many excavations and caverns fancifully cut out and carved, into which each of the proprietors of the above-mentioned gardens might at leisure retire and become his own hermit. Then how shall I touch upon the delights of Cambridge? How shall I speak of Edward's beauty in his cap, all covered with little bows, and a smart black gown? And how shall I speak of his dinner and his party? Such merriment! Such hospitality!

Only think, Louisa, of dining, breakfasting and supping day after day with 14 or 15 most accomplished, beautiful, and entertaining young gentlemen! But no more, lest you expire at the thought! As for London, I cannot well tell you what I did or saw, such a confused multiplicity of sights and succession of business have seldom been experienced. At 6 this morning we started in the stage coach, the interior of which we took, excluding all intruders, and from hence at 3 o'clock on a lovely night, with an elegant moon, we embarked for Ostend.

(_Continued by Mrs. Stanley._)

I have persuaded Uncle to carry his letter over the water that you may not have the anxiety of thinking for 2 days about the pa.s.sage, which a gentleman who dined with us to-day informed us was the most precarious, dangerous, and uncertain known.

But I consoled myself with not believing the gentleman in the first place, and by thinking with Aunt Clinton that as Mrs. Carleton was drowned so lately at Ostend, it is not likely another accident should happen at present.

Here we are, waiting for the awful moment of embarkation, which I consider something like having a tooth out, but I live in hopes that, having been up early this morning and had 10 hours' jumbling, I may be sleepy enough to forget that I am on a shelf instead of a bed; so I have been just to admire the moon as we sail out of harbour, and then go to bed and find myself in sight of Ostend when I awake.