Before and after Waterloo / Letters from Edward Stanley, sometime Bishop of Norwich (1802; 1814; 1816)

As to the country, a peep once an hour will be sufficient; I will look out of the window and give[226] you the result—five plover, a few fat cows, a good many rushes, and a canal bridge. At Amsterdam we dined at a regular Dutch table d'hôte; about 20 people, all of them eaters, few talkers; the quantity of vegetables consumed was quite surprising. With the last dish a boy came round with pipes and hot coals, which were soon followed by a tremendous explosion of Tobacco from a double line of smokers, and as if the simple operation of puffing in and puffing out was too much for these drowsy operators, many of them leaned back in their chairs, put their hands in their breeches pockets, shut their eyes, and carried on the war with one end of the pipe in their mouths and the other leaning on their plates. On Wednesday, Aug. 3rd, we crossed the Gulf by sun rise on a little tour into North Holland, to see the Village of Brock and Saardam, where the house in which the Czar Peter worked still exists. We landed at Buiksloot, from whence carriages are hired to different parts of the country. From Breda to Amsterdam they varied the Diligences according to the number of travellers; sometimes we had a coach and four, and then a machine and three, and as our number diminished we were forwarded the last stage or two in a vehicle perfectly nondescript with two horses; it was a sort of cart painted white, hung upon springs, with an awning, but it was reserved for this morning to see us in a carriage far beyond anything before seen or heard of. I am inclined to think it must have been the identical[227] equipage (for it was a little the worse for wear) which the fairy produced from the gourd for the service of Cinderella—a sort of Phaeton lined with red flowered velvet, the whole moulding beautifully carved and gilt, the panels well painted with flowers, birds, urns, &c., the wheels red and gold. It contained two seats for four persons, and a coach box painted, carved, and gilt like the body of the carriage; the whole was in a Lilliput style drawn by two gigantic black horses, whose tails reached above the level of our heads. It was exactly suited to the place where we were going, the village of Brock, which, like our vehicle, was unlike anything I had seen before. I have, in former letters, talked of Dutch cleanliness and neatness, but what is all I have said compared with Brock? Even the people have their jokes upon its superiority in this particular, and assert that the inhabitants actually wash and scrub their wood before they put it on the fire. Lady Penrhyn's cottages must yield the palm, they are only internally washed and painted, but in Brock, Tops and bottoms, Outside and in, bricks and all, are constantly under the discipline of the paint brush, and as if Nature was not sufficiently clean in her operations, the stems of several of their trees were white washed too! In fact, nothing seemed to escape—the Milk pails were either burnished brass or painted buckets, and the little straw baskets the women carried in their hands came in for their share of blue, red, or green. They have such a dread of dirt, that[228] entrance is limited to the back door only, the opening of the front door being reserved for grand occasions, such as weddings, funerals, &c. It is not accessible by carriages and horses, on account of several canals which intersect it; these sometimes widen, and in one part the houses stand round a pretty little lake. I can give you no better idea of the scene than a Chinese paper, whose neat summer houses and painted boats are all mixed together. Most houses have each a separate garden, kept in style equally clean. I really believe my own dusty shoes were the most impure things in the whole village.

We returned to Buiksloot and then proceeded to Saardam, on the top of a Dyke, which keeps the sea from inundating the vast levels of North Holland. Saardam might be held up as the pattern of neatness had I not visited Brock first; as it is, I can only say that, though four times as large, it seems to be its rival in cleanliness and paint. The number of windmills is quite astonishing; it would require an army of Don Quixotes. I counted myself upwards of 130 in and close to the town; they say there are 1,200. Windmills seem great favourites with the Dutch. In the Diligence near Utrecht my neighbour roused me by a sudden exclamation, "Oh la vue superbe!" I looked, and beheld 14 of them in a Dyke! and yesterday, on asking the Laquais de place if we should see anything curious at Saardam besides the Czar's house, he replied, "Oh que, oui—beaucoup de Moulins!" Peter the Great's house is a small wooden cottage close to the town, remarkable for nothing but having been his.

[229]Alexander had put up two little marble Tablets over the fireplace, commemorating his visit to the Imperial residence, on which something good and pointed might have been inscribed; as they are, it is merely stated that Alexander placed them on, and that Mrs. Von Tets Von Groudam stood by, delighted to see him so employed. We returned to Amsterdam by 3 o'clock and left it at 4 for Haarlem. In Protestant countries Cathedrals are not always open; we found that at Haarlem open and a numerous congregation listening to a very respectable, venerable-looking preacher, whose voice and manner, style and action approached perfection. His eloquence, however, seemed to be in vain, for I observed many sleepers; and what had an odd effect, though customary in their country, the men with their hats on; they take them off, I believe, during prayers, but put them down during the sermon; we ascended the tower and enjoyed as extensive a view as heart could wish. The sea of Haarlem is an immense lake separated from the Gulf by a flood gate and narrow dam. The French had a block house and batteries here. In truth, Holland does not require above 20 guns to keep out all the enemies in the world. Different, indeed, are the Dutch from the French in the facility and liberality of access to their curiosities. It required some eloquence and more money to induce the key-keeper to let us go up;[230] and on asking whether the Organ was to play, he assured us it was not, but that if we wished it, the performer would sound the notes for 16 shillings; this was a gross imposition to which we were little inclined to submit; but luckily, as we were coming down, we heard it opening its great bellows and re-echoing through the body of the church. We almost broke our necks in running downstairs, and leaving the Dutch guide to take care of himself, we found our way into the Organ loft, to the visible annoyance of the performer, who, seeing we were strangers, thought himself sure of his eight florins, but his duty and the Church service compelled him to go on, and he shook his head and growled in vain at our guide, who at this time appeared, intimating that he should take us away, as having no business there, but in vain. I heard the Organ, counted the 68 stops, examined at my leisure the stupendous instrument, while he was under the necessity of continuing his involuntary voluntary, till my curiosity was satisfied. We took up our residence at an Hotel in the Wood, so-called from being the place of promenade and site of the new palace, but ci-devant residence of Mrs. Hope, and, in fact, from being also a respectable wood of tolerably sized trees.

By the best chance in the world here, too, we fell in with a fête on the river. Some great Burgomaster had married himself, and all the world of Haarlem came forth in boats, decorated with colors, and bands of music in procession up the[231] river to pass in review before the Princess of Orange, an elderly-looking woman. She sat in the window of a summer house overlooking the river, and the festive procession assembled before her. It was a lovely evening, and nothing could be more gay and animating than the scene. We this morning at 6 quitted Haarlem in the boat in which I am now writing as comfortably as in my own room, the motion scarcely perceptible, about 5 miles an hour; by good luck few passengers, and those above looking at a man who is at this incessant Dutch employment of painting. The boat is as clean as a china dish, but possibly it may not have been painted since last week. Edward has just daubed his hand by looking out of the window. I am rather puzzled in getting on here. Very little French is spoken; among the common people none, and we converse by signs.

...Their money, too, is puzzling beyond measure. My stock consists of 5 franc pieces (French), upon which, exclusive of their not always understanding what they are, there is a discount; this, of course, adds to the confusion, and now I despair of understanding the infinite variety of square, hexagon, round coins of copper and silver and base metal which pass through my hands.

We passed two hours at Leyden as actively employed as a Foxhunter. We found a man who spoke French, told him our wishes, gave him a list of what was to be seen in the town, and then desired him to start, following him on the full trot[232] up and down churches, colleges, Townhalls, &c. These towns are so much alike, that having seen one the interest is considerably lessened. Leyden, however, has the honour of possessing one of the finest streets in Holland; though capable of accommodating 65,000 souls, there are not more than 20,000, which gives it a melancholy appearance. In one part there is an area of about 3 or 4 Cheshire acres planted with trees and divided with walls, which in 1807 was covered, like the rest of the town, with good houses, but it happened that a barge full of gunpowder passing through the canal, blew up, killed 200 people, including a very clever Professor Lugai, and destroyed all the houses. It was a sad catastrophe, to be sure; but now, as it is all over, and all the good people's mourning laid aside, I think the Town may be congratulated as a gainer. I could fill up my letter with the anatomical preparations of the celebrated Albinus; but though I am very partial to these sights, I doubt whether you would be amused by a description of dried men, with their hearts, lungs, and brains suspended in different bottles. The town is full of booksellers' shops, in which capital Classics might be procured and divers others old books. The windows were also well filled with new works translated into Dutch; few, I think, original; amongst others, I saw "Ida of Athens!"[93] ...

It is not easy to trace the sieges of Philip 2nd in these towns, as the fortifications are most of them[233] extinct, fortresses of more modern construction being now the keys of the country. Neat villas and gardens by the canal side marked our approach to the seat of government—and a very first-rate Town the Hague is, though I cannot conceive how the people escape agues and colds in Autumn. Stagnant canals and pools, with all circulation of air checked by rows of trees, cannot be healthy. Unfortunately for us, Lord Clancarty is at Bruxelles with the Prince of Orange. The Hague appears, from what I have seen, to be a better town for permanent residence than Bruxelles or Antwerp. The houses are all good, which implies a superior quality of inhabitants. In the evening we took a drive to Scheveningen, a fishing village about 2 or 3 miles distant, through a delightful avenue. It is one of the fashionable resorts of the town, and is absolute perfection on a hot day, though pregnant with damp and dew in the evening. I told you of dog carts at Bruxelles, but here seems to be the region of despotic sway of the poor beasts. I believe that I am not wrong in stating that nearly all the fish is carried by them from Scheveningen to the Hague; and the weight they draw is surprising. We passed many canine equipages; in one sat a fisherman and his wife drawn by three dogs not much bigger than Pompey—he with his pipe in his mouth, she with an enormous Umbrella Hat, as grave as Pluto and Proserpine. I saw several nice goat gigs; moreover, I am determined to have one for Owen....[234]

...It is quite extraordinary with what excessive silence and gravity these people carry on their affairs. On returning from Scheveningen at a good round trot, we came in contact with another carriage. Luckily no other accident happened than breaking their traces and grinding their wheels. But though disabled by our driver, not a syllable of complaint or commiseration was uttered by one party or the other. Our driver proceeded, leaving them to take care of themselves. I observed, too, that in manœuvering the Vessel in passing the Gulf yesterday, where some tacks were necessary, all was performed in perfect silence; no halloo-ing—a nod or a puff was alone sufficient....

And so are we coming to the close of our Tour—our next stage will be Rotterdam, from whence I shall bear my own dispatches.... In the course of my life this last month will bear a conspicuous place from the interesting and delightful scenes it has afforded me. I must confess I left England with some waverings and misgivings; the accounts of others led me to expect that disappointments, difficulties, and great expense would be the inevitable accompaniments of my course. But in no instance have I been disappointed, the difficulties too trifling to deserve the name, the expense nothing compared with the profits derived, and I have seen enough of men and manners, of things animate and inanimate, to make me quite at home in some of the great scenes which have just been performed....

[235]

CHAPTER VI

Such hopes must soon have been dashed by the proceedings of the Congress of Vienna, which, as was said, "danse mais n'avance pas," and gloomy forebodings are shewn in two letters from Lord[236] Sheffield to his son-in-law, which were received at Alderley in the autumn of 1814 and the spring of 1815.

The first gives Lord Sheffield's view of the situation, and the second describes Napoleon's own remarks upon it to Lord Sheffield's nephew, Mr. Frederick Douglas.

Lord Sheffield to Sir John Stanley.

Sheffield Place, October 30, 1814.

It is time I should provoke some symptom of your existence. I have no letters from Frederick North,[94] but I can acquaint you that we had himself here, which is still better, and that he has been infinitely entertaining, after three or four months' tour on the Continent, from whence he arrived about three weeks ago, and where he proposes to return next week, to pass the winter at Nice with the Glenbervies and Lady Charlotte Lindsay, who are gone there, and, I might add, with many other English families. I begin to think I shall have more acquaintances on the Continent than in England; the migration there is beyond calculation.

The present is an anxious period. Perhaps there isn't in the History of the world a more complete instance of political imbecility than was exhibited in the late Peace at Paris, especially in the Allies not availing themselves of the very extraordinary[237] opportunity of securing the tranquillity of Europe for a long time.

I conceive that the most selfish ambition will not have been more hurtful than liberality run mad. And as I am not without apprehension of that fanaticism, which for some time has interfered even with Parliament, and to which there has been too much concession, I incline to the opinion that enthusiasm, as fanaticism, is generally more hurtful to society than scepticism. The fanatic measures are evidently systematic and combined.

Everybody now looks eagerly towards the Congress of Vienna. Talleyrand displays the cloven foot, by refusing to recognise the junction of all the Netherlands. However, the Bourbons, France, and all Europe may be thankful to Talleyrand.

You have often heard of Barthélemy.[95] His brother, a banker at Paris, first moved in the Senate the déchéance of the Buonaparte family. Alexander was treating respecting a Regency. The King of Prussia did not attempt to take a lead, but was well disposed to put down the dynasty. The Emperor of Austria had always declared that he would treat with Buonaparte for Peace, under restrictions, still co-operating with the Allies.

While matters were in this state Talleyrand took the opportunity of sending a message to the Senate, saying that the family was deposed, and by this step decided the business.[238]

Buonaparte never showed a disposition to treat and to agree to terms; but when he had seemingly agreed, he denied or broke off the next day. The failure or desertion of the Marshals completed his overthrow.

It is surprising that he did not attempt to join Augereau's Army,[96] and retire into Italy, where he had forty thousand very good troops. At all events we must rest upon the pinnacle of glory and honour, although we have not secured a permanency of them. By premature concession we have yielded the means of securing the advantages we had gained.

The affair at Lake Champlain[97] has been most unlucky, as it will encourage the Yankies, under the present inveterate and execrable Government, to persevere in a ruinous warfare—ruinous to the American States, and galling to this country, liable to be distracted by the efforts of an interested and mischievous faction, which, through lack of firmness in Government, often paralyses measures of the utmost consequence.

I have seen several letters from Madrid, and I have one from thence now before me of the 3rd inst.

A degree of infatuation prevails there which you could hardly conceive possible. The account comes from a very respectable and rational quarter. The[239] most respectable characters are most violently persecuted, and the persons arraigned are confined in dungeons, no communication permitted; and persons convicted of the most atrocious acts are not even in disgrace.

While officers and soldiers invalided by wounds are starving, the King[98] is profuse to persons of no merit, and has given a pension of 1,000 dollars to a young lady who sang before him, &c., &c.

The Spanish Funds, which on the King's arrival were at 85, are now at 50. The Revenue is less than 20 millions of Dollars, the expenditure nearly 50.

Spain is likely to be in as bad a state as ever, excepting the presence of a French Army; consequently I conceive their Transatlantic Dominions will be lost to them.

Nothing, however, could be more favourable to our Commerce than their emancipation. Such an event, and a proper Boundary between us and the American States, would be the most favourable result of the war to this country.

There is an uncommonly good Pamphlet published on this subject entitled "A completed View of the points to be discussed in treating with the American States." I cannot do less than admire it, because it seems taken from my shop, or at least it adopts all the principles, with a considerable amelioration, by taking the Line of Mountains into the Lakes, and all the Lakes within our Boundary.[240]

I am very much entertained with an Anecdote in a letter of the 8th inst. now before me, from Switzerland, which states that the Princess of Wales dined a few days before with the Empress Maria Louisa and the Archduchess Constantine,[99] at Berne, and after dinner the Empress and Princess sang Duets, and the Archduchess accompanied them. Two years ago nobody would have believed such an event possible.

All this vagabond Royalty is found extremely troublesome by travellers, filling up all the beds, and carrying away all the horses. The above dinner party reminds me of Candide meeting at the Table d'Hôte during the Carnival at Venice, with two ex-emperors, and a few ex-kings.

The Princess of Wales could not be prevailed on to remain more than ten days at Brunswick. She left Lady Charlotte Lindsay[100] and Serinyer behind her, and proceeded with Lady Elizabeth Forbes to Strasburg, where she found Talma, the renowned Actor, and halted there ten days.

Lord Sheffield to Sir John Stanley.

Sheffield Place, February 1, 1815.

We are much entertained with Fred Douglas's[101] account of his visit of four days to the Isle of Elba.[241]

On the third evening he had an interview with Buonaparte for an hour and a half—the conversation very curious. He says that Buonaparte is not at all like any of his Prints; that he is a stout, thick-set figure, which makes him look short; his features rather coarse and his eyes very light, and particularly dull; but his mouth, when he smiles, is full of a very sweet, good-humoured expression; that at first he strikes you as being a very common-looking man, but upon observing him and conversing with him, you perceive that his countenance is full of deep thought and decision.

He says he received him with much good humour, and talked to him of the English Constitution, with which he seemed well acquainted; said that France never could have the same, because it wanted one of the principal parts of it, "Les Nobles de Campagne." He talked also much about our church Laws, of which he appeared to be well informed, but said he heard there was much ill humour in Scotland on account of the Union! Frederick thought he meant Ireland, but found he really did mean Scotland, and had no idea that the Union had taken place above a hundred years ago.

He said he did not think the Peace would last; that the French Nation would never submit long to give up Belgium, and that he would have yielded all except that; that he would have given up the Slave Trade, as it was a Brigandage of very little use to France. He had a most extraordinary idea[242] of how it should be abolished, viz., he said he would allow Polygamy among the Whites in the West Indies, that they might inter-marry with the Blacks, and all become Brothers and Sisters. He said that he had consulted a Bishop upon this, who had objected to it as contrary to the Christian Religion.

He seemed very anxious to know concerning the quarrels of the Regent and his wife, upon which subject F., of course, evaded giving him any answers. He said, "On dit qu'il aime la Mère de ce Yarmouth—mais vous Anglais, vous aimez les vielles Femmes," and he laughed very much. He avoided speaking of Maria Louisa, but spoke of Joséphine with affection, saying, "Elle étoit une excellente Femme." He said that the motive of his expedition into Russia was, first, that it was necessary to lead the French Army somewhere, and then that he wished to establish Poland as an independent kingdom; for that he had always loved the Poles, and had many obligations to them. He talked of all his battles as you would of a show, saying "C'étoit un Spectacle magnifique."

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.[243]

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[244] 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[245] 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 Depôts 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. [246]

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.

[247]

CHAPTER VII

I am very glad to have this opportunity of seeing what a college life is, as well as seeing Cambridge[248] 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,
Saturday.

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[249] have got our passports 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 passage 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 [250]left Alderley ... a noble 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 passage, which a gentleman who dined with us to-day informed us[251] 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.

(E. Stanley resumes next day.)

A dead calm succeeded to a gentle breeze, and on the soft, sleepy billows we have reposed in the Downs, rolling ever since. To comfort us we have a beautiful Packet and a limited number of passengers.

The discomfort consists in a rapid diminution of all our provisions and the consequent prospect of no Tea, supper, or breakfast, or dinner to-morrow. One sailor said to another as he was skinning some miserable fish, "Aye, aye, they" (meaning the passengers) "will be glad enough of these in a day or two, and I was eleven days becalmed last year."

Kitty, to fill up an hour of vacuity, said she would[252] draw, and to fill up my time this testifies that I have been thinking of you and wishing for your presence, for the Novelty alone would keep you in full effervesence and banish all Tediosity.

I have, moreover, been playing with a sweet little French dog brought by one of the sailors from Boulogne. The sailors have daily given him two glasses of gin to check his growth, and a marvellous dog of Lilliput he is! Pray, my dear Lou, drink no gin, for you see the consequences.

I had retired to bed, when Edward Leycester called me up to admire a beautiful display of Neptune's fireworks; wherever the surface of the waves was agitated, the circles of silver flashed and the drops were scattered far and wide.

The morning dawned upon us nearly in the same position, not a breath troubled the surface, smooth and still as Radnor Mere on the sweetest evening.

Famine began to stare us in the face; our provisions were nearly exhausted; two or more days might elapse before we reached Ostend.

We breakfasted on tea, fried skate and cheese. Breakfast at an end, it was proposed to board the nearest vessel and beg or borrow a dinner. In the tide course appeared a sail, about five miles distant.

The boat was lowered, volunteers stepped forward—Uncle, Edward, Donald, and a gentleman-like Belgian.

Away we went and by hard rowing we came alongside the strange sail in an hour. Three leaden figures, motionless as the unwieldly bark they[253] manned, gazed curiously upon our approaching boat. Our Belgian friend hailed, but hailed in vain. They looked but spoke not. Again he spoke, and at length a monotonous "yaw" proclaimed that they were not dumb.

We went on board and found a perfect Dutch family on their way from Antwerp to Rouen. Out stepped from her cabin the Captain's wife in appropriate costume, her close little cap, large gold necklace and ear-rings; and behind the Captain's spouse stepped forth two genuine descendants of the nautical couple. Large round heads with large round (what shall I say?) Hottentots to match and keep up the due balance between head and tail.

Having explained our wants to the Captain, he produced as the chief restorative an incomparable bottle of Schiedam, i.e., gin. To each he offered a good large glass, and then in answer to our request for beef, four bottles of excellent claret, two square loaves. For this he asked a guinea, upon receiving which his features relaxed and he declared we should have two more bottles of claret. Upon hearing we had a lady in the packet he begged her acceptance of half a neat's tongue, some butter, and a bag of rusks. Loaded with them, we took a joyful leave of these sombre sailors and returned, with the orange cravat of our Belgian friend for a flag, in triumph to the packet.

But a truce to my pen. Ostend is in sight, and now we are all rubbing our hands and congratulating[254] each other that wind and tide are in our favour and that we shall be in in a couple of hours.

Rev. E. Stanley to his niece, Isabella Stanley.[107]

Bruges, June 14, 1816.

On our return from the Dutch vessel from which we recruited our exhausted store, we found our poor Captain in sad tribulation, his patience exhausted, but his temper luckily preserved. Having paced his deck with a fidgeting velocity a due number of times, peeped thro' his glass at every distant sail or cloud to observe whether they were in any degree movable, and invoked Boreas in the most pitiable terms such as "Oh Borus! Now do, good Borus just give us a blow," we had the satisfaction at length, the supreme satisfaction, of perceiving a gentle curl upon the water which soon settled into a steady breeze, before which we glided away, delightfully enjoying our dinner upon the deck, during which our party manifested their respective characters in most charming style. One Farmer Dinmont[108] and Dousterswivel, a Dutchman, were perfect specimens. A merry Belgian Equerry to the Prince of Orange, laughed, joked, and amused us with sleight-of-hand tricks. Our Dutch beef, tho' doubtless salt far beyond due proportion, was relished by all, Dinmont excepted, who pronounced it, together with the dark-coloured bread, unfit for English hogs, and shook his head with[255] a most significant expression of doubt at my assertion that I never enjoyed a better dinner in my life. At five o'clock the low sand hills appeared to view in little nodules upon the horizon, and the Steeple of Ostend with its Lighthouse were visible from deck. At 6 we were close in upon land, and in half an hour were boarded by a Dutch boat, but alas! there was nothing in its appearance to excite curiosity, and with the exception of large earrings you might have fancied yourself in Holyhead Harbour. Four stout, tall fellows, hard and resolute in feature and decided in action, proclaimed their near alliance to British Jack Tars. They remained a little while and tried to cheat the passengers as much as possible, to take us on shore, but finding us determined to remain till the Captain could get his own boat ready, they shrugged their shoulders, abused us in Dutch, and sailed away. We were too many for one boat, so taking Kitty and the best of our English passengers and honest Farmer Dinmont, with all the luggage, we pushed off from the vessel. People of all descriptions, pilots, sailors, customs officers, soldiers, waiters soliciting customs for their respective turns. Porters regular and irregular, the latter consisting of a sort of light Infantry corps of ragged boys. All these people, I say, were crowded together on a little peninsular jetty against which our boat was shoved, and no sooner had the oars ceased to play and our keel cleared the sand than all these people set up their pipes in every dialect of every[256] tongue, French and English both bad of their sort, Dutch high and low, Flemish and German. All burst upon us at one and the same moment, and the Cossack corps of ragged porters all stept forward, arm, leg and foot, to claim the honour of carrying up (most probably of carrying off) our baggage. By dint of words fair and foul, a shove here and a push there, I contrived to get Kitty under my arm and superintend, tho' with no small trouble and inconceivable watchfulness, the adjustment of our small portmanteaux, writing case, &c., in a wheelbarrow, which, from its formidable length of handle, bespoke its foreign manufacturer. On we jogged, but jogged not long; for before this accumulating procession could disperse we were arrested by a whiskered soldier, who in unintelligible terms announced himself a searcher of baggage. So to the custom house we went, when each trunk was opened and submitted to a slight inspection; the chief difficulty consisting in putting myself in 2 places at once—one close to the depôt of our goods in the barrow, the other before the officer with the keys. Kitty was wedged in a corner with a writing case and, I think, Donald's sword. My English companion was equally on the alert, but Farmer Dinmont would have excited all your compassion, or rather admiration; for here amidst the din of tongues and arms, unable to move hand or foot, he stood with a smile of mingled resignation and wonder; at length, the search being concluded to the satisfaction of both parties, we[257] re-commenced our course, and in a few minutes Kitty found herself in a new world. Women and children unlike any women and children you ever saw; close caps with butterfly wings for the former, little black skull bonnets for the latter, in shape both alike, much resembling those toys which, if placed on their heads, by their superior specific gravity and extensive sacrifice of their lower projections instantly revolve and settle upon their tails.

"Voici, Messieurs et Madame, entrons dans la Cour Impériale," and another moment hoisted us within the covered gateway of this Hotel of Imperial appellation. Our arrangements for sleeping and eating being complete, we sat down on a bench before the door to gaze, but not to be gazed upon, for the good people never cast an eye upon us. On retiring to tea, good Farmer Dinmont's countenance relaxed as he flung himself into a chair; he put his hands upon the table and exclaimed, "Well, well, here I am sitting down for the first time out of Old England!" ... A cup of tea, or rather a kettle full, for our salt beef had kindled an insatiable thirst, put him in good humour again, and, but for a sort of sigh or a look or a jerk which proved Old England to be uppermost in his thoughts, he appeared quite satisfied. With some trouble Kitty secured the fly cap chambermaid and had taken possession of her room; having seen her safe, I descended to give orders for a warming-pan, leaving her (after having been 2 nights in[258] her clothes) to the luxury of an entire change of linen and course of ablutions. On re-crossing the court 10 minutes afterwards I ran against a waiter running off with a warming-pan, glowing with red-hot embers. "Mais donc" said I, "Madame wants a warming-pan. Allons, where is the chambermaid to carry it?" "Oh, n'importe," replied this flying Mercury; "c'est moi qui fera cela pour la dame!" Only guess Kitty's escape! Another moment and he would have been in her presence, warming-pan and all. By dint of remonstrating I checked his course and prevailed upon the Maid to go herself with vast ill humour, innumerable shrugs, and some few "Mon Dieu's" and other suitable expressions. Kitty must herself be the interpreter of her own feelings in these lands of novelty. I am almost glad you were, none of you, here to witness what she will have such pleasure in describing. Our morning passed away in strolling over the town. Kitty and I dined at the table d'hôte with about 20 people. Farmer Dinmont sent for a bottle of the best wine to try it and offered me a glass. I begged to propose a toast, "Prosperity to Old England." His features brightened up, he grasped the bottle, filled a bumper, and replied, "Aye, aye, with all my heart; that Toast I would drink in ditch water." We left Ostend at 3 o'clock to take passage in the Bruges canal, and I do assure you we all felt quite sorry to leave our dear, good, honest John Bull.

At Saas we fell in with a specimen of Lord[259] Wellington's operations. There is a formidable battery erected last year by way of guarding Ostend from a "coup de main"; it is singular that the English have placed a Battery for the defence close to the celebrated sluice gates of this canal, which gates were blown up by Sir Evelyn Coote to prevent the French from inundating the country, when he invaded it some years before.

Behold us seated in a spacious room, for it does not deserve the diminutive name of "Cabin," decorated with hangings of green cloth and gold border, on board a most commodious barge. Behold us on a lovely evening starting from the Quay with full sail and 3 horses, a man mounted on one and cracking a great long whip to drive on the other two, which trotted away abreast at the rate of 4½ miles an hour. Behold us seated on this easy chair of Neptune! our ears deafened and our spirits enlivened by a band of music—trumpet, violin, and bass—admirably playing Waltzes and other national tunes. When they had amused us on deck they went below to another class of auditors. Our fellow traveller, Mr. Trueman, followed them, and perceiving him to be English they struck up "God save the King." A Frenchman called out "Ba, ba," a very expressive mode of communicating disapprobation, but seeing Trueman was of a different opinion, he ceased from his "Ba, ba," and stepping towards him made him a low bow. About 6 o'clock we arrived at Bruges, or rather to the wharf from whence passengers betake themselves and[260] portmanteaux to barrows and sledges. As we approached our Band resumed their musical exertions. A crowd assembled to welcome our arrival, Gigs, coaches (such coaches!!), Horsemen (such Horsemen!!), were parading. Such a light with such a rainbow shone upon such an avenue and such picturesque gate!! Our baggage filled a car drawn by 3 stout men; and we all followed in the rear.... Bruges is a town affording five or six volumes of sketches; towers, roofs, gable ends, bridges—all in succession called for exclusive admiration. It was decided that we should rise at 4, breakfast at 6, and see all that was possible before 9, when we were to continue our route to Ghent. At 3 o'clock I was prepared, but a steady rain forced me reluctantly to bed again, but we did breakfast at 6, and did pick up two or three sketches.

Mrs. E. Stanley to Lady Maria J. Stanley.

Brussels, June 18, 1816.