After The Storm | Page 5

we only heard one side of the question; and I began to be almost
convinced that it was as necessary for humanity, as for the repose of Europe, that the
giant should be put down; and I was consoled when it was effected, ostensibly, at least,
by the voice of the people.
I had scarcely been three months in England, when the return of Napoleon from Elba, and
the extraordinary dislocation of the Bourbons from the throne of France, summoned
Europe again to arms; the crusade is preached at Vienna, and behold! his Grace of
Wellington appointed the Godfrey of the holy league. I had reason, about six weeks
before the news of this event reached London, from some conversation I had with an
intelligent friend, who had just returned from a tour on the Continent, to suppose that the
slightest combination against the Bourbons would prove successful, from their
injudicious conduct and from the temper of the people; but I never could have supposed
that the return of the man of Elba would be hailed with such unparalleled and unanimous
acclamation. As I had long ago wished for an opportunity of visiting the continent of
Europe, which had never before occurred to me, I eagerly embraced the offer made to me
by my friend Major-General Wilson, formerly Lieut.-Governor of Ceylon,[1] to
accompany him on a military tour through the country about to be the theatre of war.
Though I had never before visited the Continent (except with the British army in the
invasion of Holland in 1799, when I began my military career), yet I was not wholly
unprepared for travelling, having united to a classical, as well as military education, a
tolerable knowledge of history, and a partial acquirement of the principal modern

European languages, which I had begun to learn when very young and which I kept up
during my leisure hours in India, which, like those of Don Quixote, were many. I
preferred this study infinitely to that of the Asiatic languages, for which I never felt any
taste, as I dislike bombast, hyperbole and exaggeration; and though an ardent admirer of
the Muses, I never could find pleasure in what Voltaire terms "le bon style oriental, ou
l'on fait danser les montagnes et les collines," and I prefer the amatory effusions of Ovid
to those of the great King Solomon himself.
The war will no doubt commence in Belgium, and of course the Emperor Napoleon will
be the assailant, for it cannot be supposed that after the act of ban passed against him by
the Amphictyons of Vienna he will remain tranquil, and not strike the first blow, which
may render him master of Belgium and its resources.
We embarked at Ramsgate on the first of May for Ostend on board of a small vessel
bound thither. Our fellow passengers were two officers of dragoons, several
commissaries with their servants, horses, etc. After a passage of twenty-four hours, we
entered the harbour of Ostend at one o'clock the following day. Ostend, once so
flourishing and opulent, has long since fallen into decay; its usual dullness is however
just now interrupted by the bustle of troops landing to join the allied army. Cavalry,
infantry, artillery, horses, guns, stores, etc., are landed every minute. The quays are the
only parts of this city which can boast of handsome buildings; the fortifications seem to
be much out of repair; in fact, the aggrandizement of Antwerp occasioned necessarily the
deterioration of Ostend.
The General and myself went to put up at the Tête d'Or, the only inn where we could
procure beds; and we embarked early next morning at the embouchure of the canal on
board of a treckschuyt which conveyed us in three hours to Bruges.
The landscape between Ostend and Bruges is extremely monotonous, it being a
uniformly flat country; yet it is pleasing to the eye at this season of the year from the
verdure of the plains, which are all appropriated to pasturage, and from the appearance of
the different villages and towns, of which the eye can embrace a considerable number.
There is a good road on the banks of the canal, and the troops, on their line of march,
enlivened much the scene. Bruges, formerly the grand mart and emporium of the
commerce of the East, not only for the Low Countries, but for all the North of Europe,
seems, if we may judge from the state of the buildings and the stillness that prevails, to be
also in a state of decline. We however had only time to visit the Hotel de Ville and to
remark the immense height of the steeple on the Grande Place. We observed a number of
pretty women in the streets and in the shops employed in lace