Letter No. XXVI
Bruxelles, 21st July 1815.
Dear Parents—I wrote you on the 1st of July. Enclosed in the letter was a £5 Bank of England note, which at the time I could ill spare, but was afraid you were much in want of money. If you directed your letter to me, 1st Battalion, 95th Regiment, wounded, Bruxelles, Netherlands, the letter would have come to hand. I am afraid you directed it some other way.
On the 3rd I was attacked with convulsions, and at night with vomiting. Afterwards I lay in a state of insensibility until the morning, when a violent inflammation had taken place in my body. I was bled three times, which gave me temporary ease. In this way I went on for seven days, bled regularly two or three times a day. I felt better, but continued in a stupor for four days, when the inflammation recommenced with far more violence than ever. The lancet was the only thing to save me, so I was bled again very largely. My liver now was much swollen, and consequently my body was a good deal enlarged. I had always an intolerable burning pain in the liver. I never slept—often in dread of suffocation. Bleeding was the only remedy for it. In this way I went on for seven days more, when one evening, the pain being very violent, I sent for my surgeon to bleed me. He took two large basins from my arm. The pain abated much. I requested a little more might be taken, but I suddenly fainted. It was about half an hour before I could be brought to life. This alarmed my friend so much that he did not like to try bleeding again. He went and brought an eminent physician to see me, who recommended leeches. I had thirty immediately provided and applied to my sides. The next day, I had twenty-five more on the same spot, and the day after, twenty-five more. The last application of them was horrible. My side was inflamed and nearly raw from the biting of the others. I got fresh leeches every time; they bit directly. I was in the greatest state of debility when the last were put on the raw part; all taking hold at once made me entirely mad with anguish. I kicked, roared, and swore, and tried to drag them off, but my hands were held. Such torture I never experienced. As soon as they came off I ordered my servant to kill them, as well as about fifty more I had in the house. My dear friend who had attended me so kindly through this doleful scene came to see me. It was then one o'clock in the morning. "I am sorry they have tormented you with leeches, as they are of no use. Are you resigned? You cannot live,"—this, poor fellow, with tears trickling down his cheeks; on seeing which my poor little nurse, knowing so well the meaning, sobbed aloud. I answered, "Death has no pangs for me," but, alas! at that moment my poor family appeared before my eyes. I thought you would have no provision. My heart seemed fit to break. I told Robson[29] the only uneasiness I felt was for my family. He endeavoured to console me. He went away, not expecting to see me again. In the morning he found me in a state of stupor, in which state I continued for three days, to the astonishment of all. I suddenly found my body very wet, and called my nurse, who was astonished to find me speak. The bed-clothes being turned down, there I was deluged in matter. The plaster was taken off the wound, when the matter flowed forth as from a fountain. I was immediately rational and my body began to decrease. I knew in a moment my life was saved. My surgeon came and jumped for joy at my good fortune. The whole family in my house came too. The kindness and delight which Mr. Overman showed was beyond everything. Every night before he went to bed he came to me; sometimes I was insensible. He regularly went into his study and prayed for me every night. He is a very good man, a Protestant, and speaks English well. My dear little nurse has never been ten minutes from me since I came to the house. When I was in that dangerous state I often fainted in the night. She had in a moment a strong spirit at my nose to revive me. For ten nights together she never went to bed, but laid her head on my pillow. I now must finish with observing that I am with the best people in the world. The ball passed through my liver.... I am dreadfully emaciated, but I am sound at heart. I eat roast meat daily. In consequence of this discharge, I am obliged to eat very largely. I daresay in three weeks I shall be able to get out of bed. My spine is cut through at the hips. My backbone hurts me sadly. I was afraid of my shoulders, but I feed so well and drink such good wine that I must put flesh on my bones. I bless Almighty God for His mercy to me, for restoring me as it were to life in so wonderful a manner. I wish the Frenchman had not hit me quite so hard. I am afraid it will take many years off my life and make an old man of me. I have got the ball, and shall make Ann a present of it. Joe passed by the place, but did not come. I suppose he has not heard I was worse. However, it is as well, as he would be hurt to see me in this emaciated state after writing and telling him I was out of danger. Ann must be much in want of money to pay for schooling. Now the only thing I can advise you to do is to draw the £20 out of Mr. Boyse's hands and pay it. I shall not be fit to travel for two months to come, and I can get no money until I arrive at my regiment. After I have been a little time at the regiment I shall go to London and get a year's pay. I shall send you £100, and the £17 will pay my expenses back to France. It is likely that we may stay in France a long time, which will be very lucky, as I shall get wine good and cheap—in fact, everything else in proportion. One year from the day I was wounded being passed, I mean again to go to London and apply for the pension, which, if I am lucky enough to procure, you will never again be in want of money.
My dear Ann I hope continues diligently her pursuit after knowledge; Betsy also. Charles I expect delights in his studies. If he means me to be his friend, it is the only way to acquire my friendship.
My uncle will, I am sure, be very happy to hear that I am in the land of the living. My best regards to him. You will think me a strange fellow to write so much, but I write perfectly at my ease. I have plenty of books, and amuse myself all day very agreeably, and knowing the danger of offering to stir, I am quite happy. Adieu. God preserve you all in His holy keeping,
G. Simmons.
The next letter I hope will be from Paris. Write soon.