d out to put an end to one of these encounters, in
which fourteen Prussians and ten Frenchmen were either killed or
wounded.

The French took every opportunity of insulting the English; and very
frequently, I am sorry to say, those insults were not met in a manner
to do honour to our character, Our countrymen in general were very
pacific; but the most awkward customer the French ever came across was
my fellow-countryman the late gallant Colonel Sir Charles S--, of the
Engineers, who was ready for them with anything: sword, pistols, sabre,
or fists--he was good at all; and though never seeking a quarrel, he
would not put up with the slightest insult. He killed three Frenchmen
in Paris, in quarrels forced upon him. I remember, in October, 1815,
being asked by a friend to dine at Beauvillier's, in the Rue Richelieu,
when Sir Charles S--, who was well known to us, occupied a table at the
farther end of the room. About the middle of the dinner we heard a
most extraordinary noise, and, on looking up, perceived that it arose
from S--'s table; he was engaged in beating the head of a
smartly-dressed gentleman with one of the long French loaves so well
known to all who have visited France. Upon asking the reason of such
rough treatment on the part of our countryman, he said he would serve
all Frenchmen in the same manner if they insulted him. The offence, it
seems, proceeded from the person who had just been chastised in so
summary a manner: he had stared and laughed at S-- in a rude way, for
having ordered three bottles of wine to be placed upon his table. The
upshot of all this was a duel, which took place next day at a place
near Vincennes, and in which S-- shot the unfortunate jester.

When Sir Charles returned to Valenciennes, where he commanded the
Engineers, he found on his arrival a French officer waiting to avenge
the death of his relation, who had only been shot ten days before at
Vincennes. They accordingly fought, before S-- had time even to shave
himself or eat his breakfast; he having only just arrived in his coupe
from Paris. The meeting took place in the fosse of the fortress, and
the first shot from S--'s pistol killed the French officer, who had
actually travelled in the diligence from Paris for the purpose, as he
boasted to his fellow-travellers, of killing an Englishman.

I recollect dining, in 1816, at Hervey Aston's, at the Hotel Breteuil
in the Rue de Rivoli, opposite the Tuileries, where I met Seym