The Battle Dance: Waterloo

The Duchess of Richmond's Ball

The Duchess of Richmond's ball would become the most famous in history. It would end like none other. But it had begun quite normally. Almost. 

The younger members of the Lennox tribe, in total seven boys, seven girls, had been banished to the gardens for the day. The matriarch wanted her carefree children out of the way while she presided over her team of servants. The Duchess was well known as a tyrant to her family circle. Her snobbishness had smashed the pretensions of many suitors to her attractive offspring.

Brussels had burst with balls that summer to entertain its galant soldiery. Matrons had competed to conquer one another in hospitality. Notoriety, the Duchess of Richmond realised, could not simply be gained by the longest guest lists. True, the house her husband had hired could not accommodate a huge gathering. But the reason she had chosen exclusivity over wide welcoming arms was ultimately her superior fashion sense. Or was it?

Despite conjoining two ducal families, the Richmonds had repaired to Belgium to escape the costs fashion incurred in the expensive British capitals. Brussels had offered their only means of living fairly fashionably while debt free. Economy had still to be practiced.The Duchess had backed away from pleas for balls. Then the Duke himself had added to his children's entreaties.

"Our countrymen, our sons, are about to march into battle, maybe to be killed. Unpatriotic not to manage anything."

Patriotic. This had sparked her imagination. A patriotic send off for Wellington's officers would outshine every other event. How could the Duchess inlayer her ball with military meaning? Of course, military musicians must play for the dances. But something else, something special, something truly spectacular was required. Then the solution struck her—simple, easy, effective.

Her father had been the Duke of Gordon, leader of the 'Gordon Highlanders'. The regiment was stationed in Belgium, destined to take part in the invasion of France. Bagpipes would be an exotic novelty to the Belgians attending her ball. Everyone else would enjoy the spectacle. The Duchess had hit on her principle triumph.

The leisure space the family frequented was too small for her lavish schemes. Too modish and big a brood to rent rooms in one of those narrow, many levelled buildings occupied by many tenants, the Lennoxes had acquired a odd establishment on the edge of the city ramparts. The Duke of Wellington had playfully nicknamed it 'The Wash House'. Attached to it was an even more curious construction that presented surprising possibilities. This spacious apartment, once used to hold carriages, now served as a games court. The juvenile contingent would retreat there to play cards, shuttlecock, and tennis, giggling gayly. Large doors led out into pleasant gardens. Inspired, the Duchess of Richmond had set to transforming the derelict shack into a fairyland fit for a ball the fame of which would far exceed her nearsighted aspersions. 

The Lennox girls and boys watched on as Belgic servants carried in chairs and tables, plants and festoons, rugs and an enormous dining table to be stored in the main part of the house and then brought out for light supper late in the evening. The guests would be obliged to walk a long way from the ballroom to the supper quarters but it was a necessity they were sure nobody would mind. After all, was the chief object not simply to have a ball?

Beautiful china and cutlery had been hired. They peeped through the windows, between the new curtains just hung up, to see the silver being shined into life. Glasses and decanters were also being polished. The kitchens were coursing with cooks. All foreign, all dark haired peasants, jabbering away in their strange language, but all friendly, ready to give the children a taste of the enticing food stuffs being prepared. Some simmered for hours over pits of glowing coal. Others could only be quickly contrived on the last instant before coming to the table.