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countrymen. I was
soon disgusted with the scene, and finding all my efforts to be useful,
unavailing, I returned to the town, which now seemed like a city of the
dead; for a gloomy silence reigned through the streets, like that fearful
calm which precedes a storm; the shops were all closed, and all
business was suspended. During the panic of Friday and Saturday, the
sacrifice of property made by the British residents was enormous. A
chest of drawers sold for five francs, a bed for ten, and a horse for fifty.
In one instance, which fell immediately under my own observation,
some household furniture was sold for one thousand francs, (about 40 l.)
for which the owner had given seven thousand francs, (280 l.) only
three weeks before. This was by no means a solitary instance; indeed in
most cases, the loss was much greater, and in many, houses full of
furniture were entirely deserted, and abandoned to pillage.
Sunday morning was ushered in by one of the most dreadful tempests I
ever remember. The crashing of thunder was followed by the roar of
cannon, which was now distinctly heard from the ramparts, and it is not
possible to describe the fearful effect of this apparent mockery of
heaven. I never before felt so forcibly the feebleness of man. The rain
was tremendous--the sky looked like that in Poussin's picture of the
Deluge, and a heavy black cloud spread, like the wings of a monstrous
vulture, over Brussels. The wounded continued to arrive the whole of
Saturday night and Sunday morning, in a condition which defies
description. They appeared to have been dragged for miles through
oceans of mud; their clothes were torn, their caps and feathers cut to
pieces, and their shoes and boots trodden off. The accounts they
brought were vague and disheartening--in fact, we could only ascertain
that the Duke of Wellington had late on Saturday taken up his position
at Waterloo, and that there he meant to wait the attack of the French.
That this attack had commenced we needed not to be informed, as the
roar of the cannon became every instant more distinct, till we even
fancied that it shook the town. The wounded represented the field of

battle as a perfect quagmire, and their appearance testified the truth of
their assertions. About two o'clock a fresh alarm was excited by the
horses, which had been put in requisition to draw the baggage-wagons,
being suddenly galloped through the town. We fancied this a proof of
defeat, but the fact was simply thus: the peasants, from whom the
horses had been taken, finding the drivers of the wagons absent from
their posts, seized the opportunity to cut the traces, and gallop off with
their cattle. As this explanation, however, was not given till the
following day, we thought that all was over; the few British adherents
who had remained were in despair, and tri-coloured cockades were
suspended from every house. Even I, for the first time, lost all courage,
and my only consolation was the joy of Annette. "England cannot be
much injured by the loss of a Single battle," thought I; "and as for me,
it is of little consequence whether I am a prisoner on parole, or a mere
wanderer at pleasure. I may easily resign myself to my fate; but this
poor girl would break her heart if she lost her lover, for he is every
thing to her." In this manner I reasoned, but in spite of my affected
philosophy, I could not divest myself of all natural feeling; and when
about six o'clock we heard that the French had given way, and that the
Prussians had eluded Grouchè, and were rapidly advancing to the field,
I quite forgot poor Annette, and thanked God with all my heart. At
eight o'clock there was no longer any doubt of our success, for a
battalion of troops marched into the town, and brought intelligence that
the Duke of Wellington had gained a complete victory, and that the
French were flying, closely pursued by the Prussians. Sunday night was
employed in enthusiastic rejoicing. The tri-coloured cockades had all
disappeared, and the British colours were hoisted from every window.
The great bell of St. Gudule tolled, to announce the event to the
surrounding neighbourhood; and some of the English, who had only
hidden themselves, ventured to re-appear. The only alloy to the
universal rapture which prevailed, was the number of the wounded; the
houses were insufficient to contain half; and the churches and public
buildings were littered down with straw for their reception. The body of
the Duke of Brunswick, who fell at Quatre Bras, was brought in on
Saturday, and taken to the quarters he had occupied near the Chateau de
Lacken. I was