Those French officers whom we met at the promenades, on the Boulevards, in the Jardin des Plantes, at the theatres, or in the salons and billiard rooms, sought quarrels with us quite as frequently as their men; but these, of course, ended in hostile rencontres, and for the first weak or two a morning seldom passed without a French, or British, or Prussian officer being borne dead, or wounded, through a mocking crowd at the barriers, from the Bois de Boulogne.
In all these wanton quarrels and street assaults the republicans eminently distinguished themselves, and often vented their pitiful spleen by spitting at us from the windows; by hissing and railing at us in language that would have disgraced the denizens of the infamous faubourg St. Antoine; but after a time, when it became generally known that their great emperor had surrendered himself to Captain Maitland, of the Bellerophon, and submitted to the clemency of Britain, their virulence abated, and their manner became somewhat changed towards us: though their hatred of the Russian troops, sharpened by the bitter memories of the retreat from Moscow, was undying and inextinguishable.
It is an old story now; but Lord Wellington had taken every means to insure the tranquillity of the city, and to repress any armed outbreak, which must assuredly have ended in its utter destruction; for the Black Eagle of Hapsburg soared above Montmartre, and the Union of Britain waved over the splendid garden, the winding walks, and leafy groves of the Champs Elysées; the brass cannon of Blucher were planted at every barrier-gate, loaded with grape and canister, to rake the streets at a moment's notice; while by night and by day, his artillerists, in their blue great coats and bearskin caps, remained by their guns, with swords drawn and matches lighted. A regiment of Scottish Highlanders occupied the Tuileries; the Prussian advanced guard was in position on the road to Orleans, cutting off the remnant of the French army who had survived the 18th of June, and still obeying the baton of Davoust, were lingering on the banks of the Loire. Every approach to Paris was guarded by our infantry, and a strong division of the Allies were encamped in the Wood of Boulogne, and along the right bank of the Seine, so far as St. Ouen.
Never was Paris, the glory of France, more completely humbled since Henry of England unfurled his banner on its walls!
My regiment, the Fifth Hussars, were in the third, or Sir Colquhoun Grant's cavalry brigade. We were quartered at Ligny, a small town on the Marne, about fifteen miles from Paris, where we occupied the ancient Benedictine monastery, which had been founded in the eighth century by St. Fursi, a Scot, as the old curé of the place informed me; and there, with an irreverence for which the public utility, the chances of war, and the orders of the quartermaster-general must plead our excuse, we stabled our horses in the church, and stored our rations and forage in the chapel of Our Lady of Compassion.
It was while matters at Paris were in the state I have described, that I obtained leave from parade one day, hooked on my pelisse and sabre, and rode from Ligny to visit the city of sunshine and gaiety, bustle and smoke, music and wine, intending to return to my billet, which was in the house of the curé near the bridge over the Marne.
I was in time to see the Russians reviewed by the Emperor Alexander, and passed the day very agreeably, visiting the Champ de Mars, the Tuileries, where the soldiers in the garb of old Gaul were keeping guard, as in the days of the Ancient Alliance; the site of the Bastile, the Hotel des Invalides, where many an old soldier of the Empire saluted me with more of sternness than respect in their aspect: the temple where the hapless Louis had been confined, and the noble gallery of the Louvre, on the lofty walls of which were many a blank where the officers of the Allied army had torn down and conveyed away the artistic spoils of their several nations—spoils wrested from every city in Europe by the invading armies of Napoleon.
I dined at a restaurateur's on a beefsteak à l'Anglais and kickshaws, a bottle of tent dashed with brandy, and walked forth to enjoy a cigar on the Boulevards, where several of our bands from the Champs Elysées, and those of the Austrians from Montmartre, were playing divinely for the amusement of the thousands crowding those magnificent promenades, which, as all the world knows, or ought to know, encircle the good city of Paris, and were shaded by many a stately plane and lime tree, that was levelled to form the barricades of the last revolution.
There were the officers of the Allies in all uniforms, the scarlet of Britain, the white of Austria, the blue of Prussia, and the green of Russia, with all the varieties of their different branches of service, horse, foot, artillery, and rifles; Calmucks, Tartars, Scots, Highlanders, and English guardsmen, jostling and mingling among moustachioed students of l'Ecole de Medicine, French priests in their long plain surtouts and white collars, and Parisian dandies in their puckered trousers, short frock coats, and little hats; while the ladies, seated on camp stools, formed each the centre of a circle, in which revolved a little world of wit and chat and laughter; and the vendors of cigars, of bon-bons, hot coffee, and iced lemonade, pushed their way and a brisk trade through the crowd together.
I had tired of all this, and was thinking of my fifteen miles ride back to Ligny, through a rural district to which I was a stranger, though I had my sabre and pistols, and luckily the latter had been loaded by my groom. Nine o'clock was tolling from the steeples of Paris; the crowds on the Boulevards were dispersing; the bands had all played the old Bourbon anthem, 'Vive Henri Quatre!' and with the troops had repaired to their several cantonments. The trumpets of the Austrians had pealed their last night call from Montmartre, and the English drums from the Champs Elysées, and the shrill Scottish pipes from the Tuileries had replied to them. The lighted portfires of the Prussian artillery were beginning to gleam at the barriers. The streets were becoming deserted and still.