The accommodation at Brussels not being sufficient for the wounded, it was found expedient to have many of them conveyed to Antwerp, myself among the rest; and the entire of the 81st regiment were employed conveying the men on stretchers to the boat on the canal, communicating between the two cities; there I had my wound attended to, and my shattered finger taken off at the socket. A singular case of loss of limb here fell under my notice: a young fellow, a German, one of the drivers to the German artillery, had lost both his legs by a round-shot, which passing through the horse’s belly, had carried away both limbs; while on the ground in this mangled state, he received a dreadful gash in one of his arms, from a French cuirassier, and a ball in the other; through these he was also obliged to undergo the amputation of both arms, one below the elbow and the other above; here the unfortunate youth (for he was not more than nineteen), lay a branchless trunk, and up to the moment I left, though numbers died from lesser wounds, survived. At first the latter were so numerous that it became a matter of surprise to even the doctors, who at length discovered that the water, which the patients were in the habit of washing their wounds with, was brought from a spa, which in some instances, had the effect of poisoning the flesh.[[22]] In the course of a few weeks, however, I was sufficiently recovered to rejoin my regiment, at Clichy camp, near Paris.
Shortly after my arrival I was ordered on the Provost Guard, which my readers will better understand, is a kind of military police. We were under the command of the Provost Marshal, named Stanway, whose instructions were to take all whom he found marauding about the gardens in the neighbourhood of Paris, and to march them down to his guard-house for punishment.
The Provost was a keen fellow, and sometimes would pounce on as many as eighteen or twenty in the course of a morning; these were immediately flogged, according to the amount of their offence, or the resistance they made, and instantly liberated.
The depredations, however, became so universal, that the inhabitants of Paris complained to the generals of divisions, and we, in consequence, received orders to keep a stricter look out, and take into custody and flog every man we caught in the act of plunder. Our guard-house consequently was daily filled by soldiers of every uniform, indeed, ours may be said to have been a true Owenite Guard, for we made no objection to “sect, country, class, or colour,” as we served them all “alike.”
We had a deal of trouble with the Belgians especially. These fellows would go forth in sections, and lay everything waste before them. This was not for want, as they were well supplied with regular rations daily from Paris, which we were aware of. As soon as they perceived the guard hemming them in on all sides, they would invariably salute us with brickbats, stones, and sometimes even make a regular attack. But Stanway seldom let any escape him.
One morning we brought in sixteen of them, and the Provost, as usual, marched them into the little yard where the punishments were generally inflicted. The triangles stared them in the face from the centre of the ground, and the culprits one and all, as soon as they rolled their eyes on it, gave a bellow of horror, fell on their knees, and commenced praying and crossing themselves, and other symptoms of repentance; but Stanway was inexorable. Our men had the greatest difficulty in unbreeching them, and getting them tied to the halberts. The first stripped, I recollect was a short, stumpy, fat, desperate-looking fellow, who by the circumference of his seat of honour, and his struggles for its safety, seemed to bear about it all the honour of his native Belgium. The first whistle of the cat, even before it reached him, appeared to have verified the assumption, for he roared to such a degree, and his fellow-culprits sympathised so loudly, and with such a crash of Belgic, that it set the whole vicinity by the ears, and actually aroused their whole regiment quartered in the village, and the place became in an uproar. The Belgians flew to arms and instantly surrounded the guard-house; Stanway nevertheless was determined not to relax his duty, and ordered every man of us to load, and placed us in different parts of the building, barricading the doorways, prepared for every resistance, and during intervals continued the flagellation. The assailants meanwhile became furious, and attempted to scale the walls for a rescue, but they were kept off by the guard with fixed bayonets, until a shower of brickbats, &c., being thrown over the walls, made us gladly retire into the building. Our lives were now in jeopardy; not a man of us dared to stir out, until a signal being given to some English soldiers who were passing, these gave the alarm to the division then encamped outside the village, and our Rifles, followed by the 52nd, came instantly to our assistance.
The two regiments remained under arms the whole night, and the Belgians, out of bravado, retired to a field, a little distance from them, and kept under arms also. The morning after the occurrence they were removed from Clichy, and we saw no more of them.
Going into Paris a day or two after this disturbance to draw rations for the guard, I had to pass the Barrière de Clichy, and before entering the gates I perceived a crowd collected round a doorway in the street adjoining. Naturally anxious to know the cause, I mingled with the throng, and pushing to the centre perceived the dead body of a French gentleman stretched out on some straw, literally saturated in blood, and on inquiry, I was informed that he had been slain by a Cossack or Prussian officer some few minutes before. The deceased (who was a French Count) and the Cossack, it appeared, had quarrelled the night previous, and had decided on settling the matter the next morning by a meeting with pistols. It had been agreed by the seconds that the two principals should be placed back to back, and each measuring six of his own paces, should, as the distance was completed, turn round and fire.
As soon, however, as the Count commenced his first pace, the Cossack turned round discharged his pistol into the back of his adversary’s head, and stretched him lifeless on the ground, exclaiming as he did it, “I have been shot at enough by your cursed countrymen, now for my turn.”
The assassin and his second fearful, however, of the consequences fled instantly, and taking horse, rode off to their camp, but they were never discovered; although I was told that the Duke, when the circumstances were related to him, offered a reward for their apprehension.