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sets all language at defiance. No one
thought of rest or food; but every one who could get a telescope, flew
to the ramparts to strain his eyes, in vain attempts to discover what was
passing. At length, some soldiers in French uniforms were seen in the
distance; and as the news flew from mouth to mouth, it was soon
magnified into a rumour that the French were coming. Horror seized
the English and their adherents, and the hitherto concealed partizans of
the French began openly to avow themselves; tri-coloured ribbons grew
suddenly into great request, and cries of "Vive l'Empereur!" resounded
through the air. These exclamations, however, were changed to "Vive
le Lord Vellington!" when it was discovered that the approaching
French came as captives, not conquerors.
Between seven and eight o'clock in the evening, I walked up to the
Porte de Namur, where the wounded were just beginning to arrive.
Fortunately some commodious caravans had arrived from England,
only a few days before, and these were now entering the gate. They
were filled principally with Brunswickers and Highlanders; and it was
an appalling spectacle to behold the very soldiers, whose fine martial
appearance and excellent appointments I had so much admired at the
review, now lying helpless and mutilated--their uniforms soiled with
blood and dirt--their mouths blackened with biting their cartridges, and
all the splendour of their equipments entirely destroyed. When the
caravans stopped, I approached them, and addressed a Scotch officer
who was only slightly wounded in the knee.--"Are the French coming,
sir?" asked I.--"Egad I can't tell," returned he. "We know nothing about
it. We had enough to do to take care of ourselves. They are fighting like
devils; and I'm off again as soon as my wound's dressed."--An English
lady, elegantly attired, now rushed forwards--"Is my husband safe?"
asked she eagerly.--"Good God! Madam," replied one of the men, "how
can we possibly tell! I don't know the fate of those who were fighting

by my side; and I could not see a yard round me." She scarcely heeded
what he said; and rushed out of the gate, wildly repeating her question
to every one she met. Some French prisoners now arrived. I noticed one,
a fine fellow, who had had one arm shot off; and though the bloody and
mangled tendons were still undressed, and had actually dried and
blackened in the sun, he marched along with apparent indifference,
carrying a loaf of bread under his remaining arm, and shouting "Vive
l'Empereur!" I asked him if the French were coming.--"Je le crois
bien," returned he, "preparez un souper, mes bourgeois--il soupera à
Bruxelles ce soir."--Pretty information for me, thought I. "Don't believe
him, sir," said a Scotchman, who lay close beside me, struggling to
speak, though apparently in the last agony. "It's all
right--I--assure--you--." The whole of Friday night was passed in the
greatest anxiety; the wounded arrived every hour, and the accounts they
brought of the carnage which was taking place were absolutely terrific.
Saturday morning was still worse; an immense number of
supernumeraries and runaways from the army came rushing in at the
Porte de Namur, and these fugitives increased the public panic to the
utmost. Sauve qui peut! now became the universal feeling; all ties of
friendship or kindred were forgotten, and an earnest desire to quit
Brussels seemed to absorb every faculty. To effect this object, the
greatest sacrifices were made. Every beast of burthen, and every
species of vehicle were put into requisition to convey persons and
property to Antwerp. Even the dogs and fish-carts did not
escape--enormous sums were given for the humblest modes of
conveyance, and when all failed, numbers set off on foot. The road
soon became choked up--cars, wagons, and carriages of every
description were joined together in an immovable mass and property to
an immense amount was abandoned by its owners, who were too much
terrified even to think of the loss they were sustaining. A scene of
frightful riot and devastation ensued. Trunks, boxes, and portmanteaus
were broken open and pillaged without mercy; and every one who
pleased, helped himself to what he liked with impunity. The disorder
was increased by a rumour, that the Duke of Wellington was retreating
towards Brussels, in a sort of running fight, closely pursued by the
enemy; the terror of the fugitives now almost amounted to frenzy, and
they flew like maniacs escaping from a madhouse. It is scarcely

possible to imagine a more distressing scene. A great deal of rain had
fallen during the night, and the unhappy fugitives were obliged literally
to wade through mud. I had, from the first, determined to await my fate
in Brussels; but on this eventful morning, I walked a few miles on the
road to Antwerp, to endeavour to assist my flying