Chapter 13

MAYENCE, _July 22nd_.

Our speed outstrips my pen. I am to retrace our steps to Soissons, whereas here we are upon the banks of the Rhine, which is hurrying majestically by to terminate its course amongst the dykes of Holland.

The nearer we came to Soissons[79] the nearer we perceived we were to the field of some terrible contest, and the suburbs, where the thickest of the fight took place, presented a frightful picture of war, not a house entire. It seems they were unroofed for the convenience of the attacking party, or set on fire, an operation which took up a very short space of time, thanks to the energetic labours of about 50 or 60,000 men. Indeed, fire and sword had done their utmost--burnt beams, battered doors, not a vestige of furniture or window frames. I cannot give you a better idea of the quantity of shot, and consequent number of beings who must have perished, than by assuring you that on one front of a house about the extent of our home, and which was not more favoured than its neighbours, I counted between 2 and 300 bullet marks. I was leaning against a bit of broken wall in a garden, which appeared to be the doorway to a sort of cellar, taking a sketch, when the gardener came up and gave me some particulars of the fight. He pointed to this cave or cellar as the place of shelter in which he and 44 others had been concealed, every moment dreading a discovery which, whether by friend or foe, they looked upon as equally fatal. Fortunately the foe were the discoverers. Upon the termination of the battle, which had been favourable to the Allies, in came a parcel of Russians upon the trembling peasants. Conceiving it to be a hiding-place for French soldiers, they rushed upon them, but finding none, satisfied themselves with asking what business they had there, and turning them out to find their way through blood and slaughter to some more secure place of shelter. A small mill pool had been so completely choked with dead that they were obliged to let off the water and clean it out. With Sir Charles Stuart's dispatches cut out of the Macclesfield Paper we ascended the Cathedral, and from thence, as upon a map, traced out the operations of both armies. Soissons is half surrounded by the Aisne, and stands on a fine plain, upon which the Russians displayed. Buonaparte, in one of his Bulletins, abuses a governor who allowed the Allies to take possession of the town when he was in pursuit, thus giving them a passage over the river, adding that had that governor done his duty the Russians might have been cut off. In England this was all voted "leather and prunello" and a mere vapouring opinion of the Emperor's, but as far as I could observe he was perfectly right, and had the governor been acting under my orders I question much whether I should not have hanged him. In looking about we were shewn a sort of town hall, with windows ornamented with the most beautiful painted glass you ever saw--nice little figures, trophies, landscapes, &c.--but a party of Russians had unfortunately been lodged there, and the glass was almost all smashed. I procured a specimen, but alas! portmanteaus are not the best packing-cases for glass, and in my possession it fared little better than with the Cossacks. However, if it is pulverised, I will bring it home as a Souvenir....

_To face p. 161._

From Soissons to Laon the country is uninteresting except from the late events. With the exception of the first view of the plain and town of Laon, we passed village after village in the same state of ruin and dilapidation. Chavignon, about 4 miles from Laon, seemed, however, to have been more particularly the object of vengeance; it was throughout nearly a repetition of the suburbs of Soissons. Laon rises like a sort of Gibraltar from a rich and beautiful plain covered with little woods, vineyards, villages, and cornfields; the summit is crowned with an old castle, the town with its Cathedral towers and a parcel of windmills. Buonaparte had been extremely anxious to dislodge the allies; for two days made a furious and almost incessant attack, which was fortunately unsuccessful owing, to speak in French terms, to _la petite trahison_, in plain English, the bravery of the Russians, who not only withstood the repeated shocks, but pursued the enemy all the way to Soissons, every little copse and wood becoming a scene of contest, and the whole plain was strewed with dead. Since quitting Rouen I do not recollect any town at all to be compared with Laon either in point of scenery without or picturesque beauty within; it is one of the most curious old places I ever saw--Round Towers, Gateways, &c. We took up our quarters at an odd-looking Inn, with the nicest people we had met with for some time. They spoke with horror of the miseries they had undergone in this Inn, not much larger than Cutts' at Wilmslow; they had daily to feed and accommodate for upwards of two months 150 Russians of all descriptions, and this at a moment when provisions were, of course, extremely dear. The landlord's daughter with two friends were imprisoned, actually afraid of putting their noses beyond the keyhole; luckily they could make artificial flowers, and two of them drew remarkably well; a favourite dog of the landlord's was their companion. A Cossack had one day taken him by the tail with the firm intent to put him on the kitchen fire, the bare recollection of which kindled all our host's anger, and he declared that had his poor dog been roasted, though he well knew the consequence, he should have shot the Cossack; fortunately the dog escaped, but as his Master assured me, never smelt or heard a Cossack's name mentioned afterwards without popping his tail between his legs and making off with the utmost speed. Both at this place and at Soissons we met with people with whom Davenport[80] had lodged, and in both places he has established a character which reflects the highest credit on his activity, humanity, and generosity. He was no idle spectator; he went about endeavouring by every means in his power to alleviate the miseries of war by protecting persons and property, and by administering to the wants of the sick and wounded of every description....

On the 16th we quitted Laon for Berry au Bac, passing through Corbeny and close to the heights of Craon, upon which a battle was fought which might be considered as the coup de grâce to the French. The Emperor commanded in person; he talked nearly half an hour with the Postmaster, whom he summoned before him; if the man spoke truth, his conversation appears to have been rather childish. After asking many questions about the roads and country, he vented a torrent of abuse against the Russians, upon whom he assured the Postmaster it was his intention to inflict summary punishment, and, indeed, according to the French translation of the business, he actually did so, tho' I never could find out that any other of the Imperial troops remained to enjoy the victory on these said heights, saving and except the wounded and killed; one spot was pointed out where in one grave were deposited the remains of 3,000....

In this village of Corbeny there had been sad devastation; but it was at Berry au Bac that we were to see the superlative degree of misery. This unfortunate little town had been captured 7 times--4 times by the Russians, 3 times by the French; their bridge, a beautiful work of 3 arches, only completed in December, was blown up March 19. The houses fared no better; whole streets were annihilated--chiefly for the sake of burning the beams for fire-wood by the Russians--but the walls were in great measure knocked over by the French, for what other purpose than wanton cruelty I could not learn. Pillage and violence of every description had been excessive. Some of the inhabitants died of pure fright; a gentleman-like-looking man assured me his own father was of the number. Even here the Cossacks were complimented for their comparative good behaviour, while the French and the Emperor were justly execrated--"Plait à Dieu" said a poor man who stood moaning over the ruins of his cottage, "Plait à Dieu, qu'il soit mort, et qu'on n'entendît plus de Napoléon";--the old woman, his wife, told me they only feared the Cossacks when they were drunk. An old Cossack had taken up his quarters with them--"Ah c'était un bon Viellard; un bon Papa."

One day a party of 20 or 30 drunken Cossacks broke into their yard, and insisted on entering the house; the old woman said she had nothing to fear and would have opened the door, but the Cossack seized her, saying, "There is but one way to save you," and taking her by the arm, shewed her to his companions as his prize and threatened the man who should touch his property with instant death. They did not dispute the matter with him and retired quietly. When they were out of sight he told her to follow him, and led her 3 or 4 miles up the country amongst the woods and left her in a place of safety, taking a kind leave of her and saying, "I have done all I could for you, now farewell"--and she saw no more of him....

We arrived at Rheims on the evening of the 16th, a large, fine, regular, dull-looking city in a dull-looking plain. The Cathedral is grand enough, but I felt no wish to remain till the Coronation. Hitherto we had seen inanimate vestiges of war, at Rheims we were to see the living effects. By accident we passed the door of a large Church or Hall which had been converted into an Hospital for 400 Russian prisoners, and on benches near the porch were seated some convalescent patients without arms or legs. We stopped to speak to them as well as we could, and upon saying we were Englanders, one of the Russians with evident rapture and unfeigned delight made signs that there was a British soldier amongst their number, and immediately 4 or 5 of them ran to bring him out; and such a poor object did appear dragged along, his legs withered away and emaciated to the last degree. He had been wounded at St. Jean de Luz in the thigh, and subsequently afflicted with a fever which had thus deprived him of the use of his limbs. We gave something to those who were nearest, and on my asking if any Prussian was there to whom I could speak in French, as I wished to express our desire but inability to relieve all, I was conducted through the wards to a miserable being who was seated with his head suspended in a sling from the top of the bed, both legs dreadfully shattered, and unable to support himself upright through extreme weakness.

During the whole of supper-time the Hospital and this Englishman hung heavy on my mind; I felt as if I had not done enough, and that I might be of use in writing to his friends. Accordingly about 10 o'clock I went again to the Gate and begged admittance. On mentioning my wish to see the Englishman, I was immediately allowed to enter, and conducted up the wards. On each side were small beds, clean, and in admirable order; there was nothing to interrupt the silence but our own echoing footsteps and the groans of the poor patients all round. The Nurses were in the costume of Nuns, and from religious principles undertake the care of the sick--there was something very awful in marching up the aisles with these conductors at this time. My poor countryman was asleep when I came to his bedside. I took down memorandums of his case, and promised to write to his friends, and left him money to assist him on his road home, should he (of which I much doubt) ever recover.

I staid with him some time; in the course of the conversation some wounded Prussians came up on their crutches, and it was quite gratifying to see their kindness and goodwill to this poor fellow who, sole of his nation and kindred, was wasting away amongst strangers. They patted him on his head, called him their _cher_ and _bon garçon_, lifted him up that he might see and hear better, and he assured me that by them and by all the attendants he was treated with the utmost kindness and attention. Amongst 400 wounded soldiers whose deep groans and ghastly countenances announced that many were almost passing the barrier which separates the mortal from the immortal, with their nurses by my side holding their glimmering tapers, each arrayed in the order of their religion and wearing the Cross as the badge of their profession, was a situation in which I had never before been placed. In offering ministerial advice, and, I trust, affording religious consolation under circumstances so solemn and peculiar, you may conceive that I did speak with all the earnestness and fervour in my power. I told the nurses who and what I was, and so far from entertaining any illiberal ideas as to the propriety of my interfering in what might be called their clerical department, they expressed the greatest pleasure and seemed to rejoice that their patient was visited by one of his own ministers.... Thus ended my visit to the Hospital at Rheims, which I never can forget.

We travelled the next day to Verdun, bidding adieu to the Hibberts at Châlons.

You will ask if we have seen any vestiges of war on the soil such as bodies. We have met with a tolerable quantity of dead horses by the road-side and in ditches, but only one human being, half scratched up by a dog, has appeared; a few rags of uniform dangling upon the skeleton bones called our attention to it.

Verdun is a very comfortable town of considerable extent decently fortified; the number of English there was from 1,000 to 1,100; they were all sent off in a hurry. At 5 in the evening they received the order, at 7 the next morning the greater part were off, and 24 hours afterward the Allies hovered round the town. The French boast, and nobody can contradict the assertion, that the Allies were never able to take their fortresses; certainly not; for they never attempted. Instead of losing their time in besieging, they left a few to mark the place and went on.... The English prisoners seem to have enjoyed every comfort they could expect--in fact, their imprisonment was in great measure nominal; with little difficulty they were allowed to go as far as they wished; they were noticed by the inhabitants, and many have married and settled in France. I think the prisoners in England have not been so well off, and complain with reason.

We went to the English church and Theatre, and saw as much as we could for half a day. For the honor of my country I lament to say that many here contracted heavy debts which are not likely to be paid. Some instances were mentioned, the truth of which were proved by letters I read from the parties themselves, little creditable to our national character, and by persons, too, who ought to have known better. On the 18th we left Verdun for Metz. I had always winked at and generally encouraged the addition of another passenger behind our Cabriolet. The road was quite crowded with straggling soldiers going or returning to their several homes or regiments. We rarely passed in a day less than 2 or 300, and really sometimes in situations so very favorable to robbing that I am surprised we were never attacked, their appearance being generally stamped with a character perfectly congenial to the Banditti Trade--dark, whiskered, sunburnt visages, with ragged uniform and naked feet. Sometimes we were more fortunate than at others; for instance, stragglers from the Hamburg garrison, whose wan faces bore testimony to the fact they related of having lived for the last 4 or 5 months on horseflesh; but our charitable assistance was to be this day most abundantly rewarded. We overtook a poor fellow, more wretched than most we had seen, toiling away with his bivouacking cloak tied round him. He, too, solicited, and misunderstanding my answer, said in the most pitiable but submissive tone, "Alors, Monsieur ne permettra pas que je monte?" "Tout au contraire," said I, "Montez tout de suite." After proceeding a little way I thought I might as well see who we had got behind us, and guess my astonishment when I received the answer. Who do you imagine, of all the people in the world, Buonaparte had raked forth to secure the Imperial Diadem upon his brow, to fight his battles, and deal in blood, but--A monk of La Trappe. For three years had he resided in Silence and solitude in this most severe society when Buonaparte suppressed it, and insisted that all the Noviciate Monks in No. 36 should sally forth and henceforth wield both their swords and their tongues; with lingering steps and slow our poor companion went. In the battle of Lutzen[81] he fought and conquered. In Leipsic[82] he fought and fell--the _wind_ of a shot tore his eye out and struck him down, and the shot killed his next neighbour upon the spot; he was taken prisoner by the Swedes, and was now returning from Stockholm to his brethren near Fribourg. The simplicity with which he told his tale bore ample testimony to the Truth, but in addition he shewed me his Rosary and credentials. After having talked over the battle I changed the subject, and determined to see if he could wield the sword of controversy as well as of war; and accordingly telling him who I was, asked his opinion of the Protestant Faith and the chief points of difference between us. He hesitated a little at first: "Attendez, Monsieur, il faut que je pense un peu." In about a minute he tapped at the carriage. "Eh bien, Monsieur, j'ai pensé," and then entered upon the subject, which he discussed with much good sense and ability, sometimes in Latin, sometimes in French; and though he supported his argument well and manfully, he displayed a liberality of sentiment and a spirit of true Christianity which quite attached me to him. I asked him his opinion of the _salvability_ of protestants and infallibility of Catholics. "Ecoutez moi," was his reply. "Je pense que ceux qui savent que la Religion Catholique est la vraie Religion et ne la pratiquent pas, seront damnés, mais pour ceux qui ne pensent pas comme nous. Oh non, Señor, ne le croyez pas. Oh mon Dieu! non, non! jamais, jamais!" "Are you _quite sure_ a minister ought not to marry? You will recollect St. Peter was a married man." "Oh que, oui, c'est vrai, mais le moment qu'il suivit notre Seigneur on n'entend plus de sa femme." From this we proceeded to various other topics, amongst others to the propriety of renouncing a religion in which we conceived there were erroneous opinions. "Señor, écoutez," said he, "can that religion be good which springs from a bad principle? Les Anglois étaient une fois des bons Catholiques; le Divorce d'un Roi capricieux fut la cause de leur changement. Ah, cela n'était pas bon." ...

When we were on the point of parting he turned to me: "Señor, j'espère que je ne vous ai pas faché, si je me suis exprimé trop fortement devant vous qui m'avez tant rendu service, il faut me pardonner, je suis pauvre et malheureux, mais je pensois que c'était mon devoir."

It was as lucky a meeting for him as for me. I assisted him with money to expedite him homewards, and he entertained and interested me all the way to Metz, when, much against my will, we parted, for had he been going to Pekin I should have accommodated him with a seat....