Read Ebook: A Week at Waterloo in 1815 Lady De Lancey's Narrative: Being an Account of How She Nursed Her Husband Colonel Sir William Howe De Lancey Quartermaster-General of the Army Mortally Wounded in the Great Battle by De Lancey Magdalene Lady Dickens Charles Contributor Scott Walter Contributor Ward B R Bernard Rowland Editor

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Sir William De Lancey, soldier, only son of the preceding, was born in New York about 1781, and died in June 1815, in consequence of wounds received at the battle of Waterloo. He was educated in England, and early entered the British army. He served with great distinction under Wellington in Spain, and was several times honourably mentioned in his despatches.

The following is the extract from Wellington's official despatch of the 19th June, referring to De Lancey:--

"I had every reason to be satisfied with the conduct of the Adjutant-General, Major-General Barnes, who was wounded, and of the Quartermaster-General, Colonel De Lancey, who was killed by a cannon-shot in the middle of the action. This officer is a serious loss to His Majesty's service, and to me at this moment."

That the Duke felt keenly his severe losses in killed and wounded, especially amongst the members of his Staff, is shown by the following reminiscence of General Alava, as told by him, two years after the battle, to Sir Harry Smith and his wife--the lady now immortalised by the name Ladysmith, emblazoned on the colours or accoutrements of thirty-five British regiments.

On the evening of the battle, "the Duke got back to his quarters at Waterloo about nine or ten at night. The table was laid for the usual number, while none appeared of the many of his Staff but Alava and Fremantle. The Duke said very little, ate hastily and heartily, but every time the door opened he gave a searching look, evidently in the hope of some of his valuable Staff approaching. When he had finished eating, he held up both hands in an imploring attitude and said, 'The hand of Almighty God has been upon me this day,' jumped up, went to his couch, and was asleep in a moment."

The following is from General Alava's official report of the action: "Of those who were by the side of the Duke of Wellington, only he and myself remained untouched in our persons and horses. The rest were all either killed, wounded, or lost one or more horses. The Duke was unable to refrain from tears on witnessing the death of so many brave and honourable men, and the loss of so many friends and faithful companions."

The next morning, the Duke wrote the following note to Lady Frances W. Webster, dated

"Half-past 8 in the morning.

"MY DEAR LADY FRANCES,

"Lord Mount-Norris may remain in Bruxelles in perfect security. I yesterday, after a most severe and bloody contest, gained a complete victory, and pursued the French till after dark. They are in complete confusion; and I have, I believe, 150 pieces of cannon; and Bl?cher, who continued the pursuit all night, my soldiers being tired to death, sent me word this morning that he had got 60 more. My loss is immense. Lord Uxbridge, Lord Fitzroy Somerset, General Cooke, General Barnes, and Colonel Berkeley are wounded: Colonel De Lancey, Canning, Gordon, General Picton killed. The finger of Providence was upon me, and I escaped unhurt.--Believe me, etc.,

"WELLINGTON."

Captain Gronow--a subaltern of the 1st Guards at Waterloo--gives us the following glimpse of the Duke and his Staff, on the morning of the 18th, before the opening of the battle:--

"The road was ankle-deep in mud and slough; and we had not proceeded a quarter of a mile when we heard the trampling of horses' feet, and on looking round perceived a large cavalcade of officers coming at full speed. In a moment we recognised the Duke himself at their head. He was accompanied by the Duke of Richmond, and his son, Lord William Lennox. The entire Staff of the army was close at hand: the Prince of Orange, Count Pozzo di Borgo, Baron Vincent, the Spanish General Alava, Prince Castel Cicala, with their several aides-de-camp; Felton Hervey, Fitzroy Somerset, and De Lancey were the last that appeared. They all seemed as gay and unconcerned as if they were riding to meet the hounds in some quiet English county."

"I remained for some time at a short distance from the great man, who occasionally addressed a few words to Lord Fitzroy Somerset, Sir E. Barnes, De Lancey, and others of his principal officers. He was then awaiting the return of Sir Alexander Gordon, who had gone off by the Namur road, some time between 6 and 7 o'clock, escorted by a squadron of the 10th Hussars. I had seen this detachment start at a round trot, but of course knew not the object of despatching it; which, as we learned afterwards, was to gain intelligence of Bl?cher's operations, whose defeat at Ligny we, that is, the army generally, were ignorant of, though the Duke was aware of it.

"I availed myself of this period of quietness to go and examine particularly the ground which had been so hardly contested the day before....

"Returning to the place where I had left the Duke when I set out on my ramble round the outposts, I found him still on the same spot; where he remained till Gordon and his escort came in with jaded horses, soon after 10 o'clock. On hearing his report, the Duke said a few words to De Lancey, who, observing me near him, directed me to go to Sir Thomas Picton, and tell him the orders were to make immediate preparation for falling back upon Waterloo....

"Just as the retreat commenced , I was ordered off to Mont St Jean, where I was told I should meet the Quartermaster-General; accordingly I made for Genappe, and as the high road was by that time filled with troops, being, moreover, careless of the farmer's interest, I took a short cut through the corn-fields, in such a direction as enabled me to strike into that village about its centre. There I found sad confusion prevailing; country waggons with stores, ammunition tumbrils, provision waggons, and wounded men, choked up the street, so that it was impossible for any one to pass. Aware of the great importance of freeing the passage at a time when the retiring troops might be pressed by the enemy, I at once set to work to remedy the disorder that prevailed. Let the reader picture to himself Police Constable 61 C posted at the pastry-cook's corner where Gracechurch Street enters Cheapside, at a moment when those passages, together with Bishopsgate and Leadenhall Streets are blocked up by 'buses, drays, waggons, carts, advertising locomotives, private carriages, and dodging cabs, when that unhappy functionary is vainly striving to restore order and clear the ways, and he will have some idea of the difficulty I experienced in executing my self-imposed task. Happily, I was acquainted with some pithy expressions in two or three languages, which were familiar to the ears of those I had to deal with; and these, together with the flat of my sword, proved very efficacious in the end. While in the thick of this scene of tumult and confusion, I felt some one clap me on the shoulder, and on looking round saw Sir W. De Lancey. 'You are very well employed here,' said he; 'remain, and keep the way clear for the troops; I shall not want you at Waterloo.' Encouraged by my chief's commendation I redoubled my efforts, and had soon the satisfaction of seeing the defile free."

"'How can we possibly tell you that?' said the officer of the watch. 'Don't you see the ships are scattered as far as the horizon in every direction? You had much better come on board this ship in the meantime.'

"'No, sir, no,' cried the officers; 'we have received directions to go on board the transport 139, and her we must find.'

"Our next care was to afford our tired warriors the much-required comforts of a razor and clean linen. We divided the party amongst us; and I was so much taken with one of these officers, that I urged him to accept such accommodation as my cabin and wardrobe afforded. He had come to us without one stitch of clothes beyond what he then wore, and these, to say the truth, were not in the best condition, at the elbows and other angular points of his frame. Let that pass--he was as fine a fellow as ever stepped; and I had much pride and pleasure in taking care of him during the passage.

"We soon became great friends; but on reaching England we parted, and I never saw him more. Of course he soon lost sight of me, but his fame rose high, and, as I often read his name in the Gazettes during the subsequent campaigns in the Peninsula, I looked forward with a gradually increasing anxiety to the renewal of an acquaintance begun so auspiciously. At last I was gratified by a bright flash of hope in this matter, which went out, alas, as speedily as it came. Not quite six years after these events, I came home from India, in command of a sloop of war. Before entering the Channel, we fell in with a ship which gave us the first news of the battle of Waterloo, and spared us a precious copy of the Duke of Wellington's despatch; and within five minutes after landing at Portsmouth, I met a near relation of my own. This seemed a fortunate rencontre, for I had not received a letter from home for nearly a year--and I eagerly asked him--

"'What news of all friends?'

"'I suppose,' he said, 'you know of your sister's marriage?'

"'No, indeed! I do not!--which sister?'

"He told me.

"'But to whom is she married?' I cried out with intense impatience, and wondering greatly that he had not told me this at once.

"'Sir William De Lancey was the person,' he answered. But he spoke not in the joyous tone that befits such communications.

"'Yes,' said my friend, 'that was reported, but could hardly have been believed. Sir William was mortally wounded, and lived not quite a week after the action. The only comfort about this sad matter is, that his poor wife, being near the field at the time, joined him immediately after the battle, and had the melancholy satisfaction of attending her husband to the last!'"

It was, as before stated, at Captain Hall's request that Lady De Lancey wrote the memorable Waterloo narrative.

In order to satisfy the natural curiosity of friends--who had probably heard of the narrative in Captain Hall's possession--Lady De Lancey prepared an abridged version, in more general terms, and of a much more reserved character than the original account, written for her brother only.

In some few instances this abridged account contains descriptive touches not given in the original narrative. These variations are given in the form of notes to the present edition of the narrative.

Thomas Moore in his diary for the 29th August 1824 describes the circumstances under which Captain Hall lent him his copy of the narrative as follows:--

The two most famous literary men to whom Captain Basil Hall lent the narrative, were, however, Sir Walter Scott and Charles Dickens.

Sir Walter Scott writes under date Abbotsford, 13th October 1825, that his publisher, Constable, thinks that the narrative "would add very great interest as an addition to the letters which I wrote from Paris soon after Waterloo, and certainly I would consider it as one of the most valuable and important documents which could be published as illustrative of the woes of war."

"I never read anything which affected my own feelings more strongly, or which, I am sure, would have a deeper interest on those of the public....

"Perhaps it may be my own high admiration of the contents of this heartrending diary, which makes me suppose a possibility that after such a lapse of years, the publication may possibly may not be judged altogether inadmissible....--Most truly yours,

"WALTER SCOTT."

The following is a transcript of the most remarkable passages in Dickens' letter:--

"DEVONSHIRE TERRACE,

"MY DEAR HALL, ...

"I have not had courage until last night to read Lady De Lancey's narrative, and, but for your letter, I should not have mastered it even then. One glance at it, when, through your kindness, it first arrived, had impressed me with a foreboding of its terrible truth, and I really have shrunk from it in pure lack of heart.

"Of all the beautiful and tender passages--the thinking every day how happy and blest she was--the decorating him for the dinner--the standing in the balcony at night and seeing the troops melt away through the gate--and the rejoining him on his sick-bed--I say not a word. They are God's own, and should be sacred. But let me say again, with an earnestness which pen and ink can no more convey than toast and water, in thanking you heartily for the perusal of this paper, that its impression on me can never be told; that the ground she travelled is holy ground to me from this day; and that, please Heaven, I will tread its every foot this very next summer, to have the softened recollection of this sad story on the very earth where it was acted.

"You won't smile at this, I know. When my enthusiasms are awakened by such things, they don't wear out....--Faithfully yours,

"CHARLES DICKENS."

"There was a sound of revelry by night,"

and ending with the words--

"Rider and horse, friend, foe, in one red burial blent."

B.R. WARD.

A WEEK AT WATERLOO IN 1815

I arrived at Brussels on Thursday, 8th June 1815, and was much surprised at the peaceful appearance of that town, and the whole country from Ostend. We were billeted in the house of the Count de Lannoy, in the Park, which is a square of very beautiful houses with fine large trees in the centre. The Count de Lannoy was very attentive, and we had a suite of very excellent rooms, up four stories, which is the fashion in that country, I believe. It was amusing enough, sometimes, to see from our windows the people parading in the Park. I saw very little of the town, and still less of the inhabitants; for notwithstanding Sir William's belief that we should remain quietly there for a month at least, I have the comfort of remembering that, as there was a chance we might separate in a few days, I wasted no time in visiting or going to balls, which I did not care for, and therefore I never went out, except for an hour or two every afternoon, to walk with Sir William.

The people in general dined between three and four, we dined at six; we walked while others were at dinner, so that literally I never saw anybody, except some gentlemen, two or three of whom dined with us every day--Sir William's friends, whom he brought to introduce to me.

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