The purest treasure mortal times affordIs spotless reputation; that away,Men are but gilded loam or painted clay.—Shakespeare.
The purest treasure mortal times affordIs spotless reputation; that away,Men are but gilded loam or painted clay.—Shakespeare.
It was in order to crush us as a nation that precipitated Napoleon and his host into the famine guarded wilds of Russia. Thousands, yea, hundreds of thousands of the working classes in this God-defended isle, will hardly be able to fathom the terrible calamities of the horrors of war in the retreat from Moscow, the only difference being most of the Russian sick and wounded returned to their colours, as they were nursed in the bosom of their friends. But even this terrible blow was not enough to subdue the great conqueror. Russia had been kept in the field by our inexhaustible funds. Arms, with all kinds of warlike stores, were shipped off to Russia by wholesale by us; and, but for the indomitable pluck of our forefathers, the whole of the continent of Europe would have been at the conqueror’s feet. Prussia was willing to strike for her independence, but she was powerless—she was bankrupt. All her main fortifications, with her capital, were in the hands of the enemy. Napoleon had boasted, after the crush at Jena, that he would make the princes and nobles of Germany beg their bread. Poor struggling Prussia was held by an iron grasp. Military contributions, which were extracted under pain of instant death, from its unhappy people during the year 1812, would exceed belief if it were not attested by authentic documents: 482,000 officers and men, and 80,000 horses, traversed Prussia’s whole extent. More than half this immense force were quartered above three months on the poor inhabitants; they were like a cloud of locusts,devouring all they could lay their hands upon, shooting all that dared to oppose them. We would say fervently, “God protect our beloved isle from the ravages of war.”
Our forefathers knew all this and far more, and had made up their minds that if they had to die, some one else should die with them. They would not die from tyranny, but sword in hand. It is not generally known that at the commencement of this terrible war in 1792, we raised in this glorious Old Isle of Freedom, by the operation of the ballot, 800,000 men, not for offensive warfare, but for defensive; and mind, our united population then was only about 15,000,000. But to proceed: In east Prussia alone, the enemy demanded and took by force 22,700 cattle, horses 70,000, carts and waggons 13,349. The weekly cost of one corps alone (Janot’s, 70,000 strong) was 200,000 crowns, or £50,000 sterling, the rest of the army being in proportion. These enormous contributions were exclusive of the war indemnity of 640,000,000 francs, which was rigidly exacted. In addition to all the above, the following was demanded and taken by force:—200,000 quintals[44]of rye, 24,000 of rice, 48,000 of dried vegetables, 200,000 bottles of brandy, 2,000,000 bottles of beer (I think I hear some one remark, they were a thirsty lot), 400,000 quintals of wheat, 650,000 of hay, 750,000 of straw, 6,000,000 pecks of oats, 44,000 oxen, 15,000 cavalry horses, 600,000 quintals of powder, 60,000 of lead, 3,600 waggons, harnessed, with drivers; hospital and field equipage for 20,000 men (sick and wounded). The Germans may well be vindictive, knowing all this and far more; for their wives and daughters were treated in such a manner that pen refuses to record it. If the unfortunate peasant or husband remonstrated, he was at once shot. They may well, I say, have thrown their scabbards away, determined to conquer or die. At Lutzen, Bautzen,Dresden, Leipsic, and a number of other fields, they fought with desperation. At Lutzen and Bautzen, thousands of the Prussians, Landwehr[45](Militia), fought heroically in the clothing in which they came from theplough tail. Their loss was very heavy, but they died to try and save the honour of their mothers, their wives, and their sisters. Here we see the majestic might which slumbers in the peasant’s arm; their heroism was worthy of veteran soldiers; 15,500 Prussians fell, and 25,000 French lay upon the bloody field of Bautzen. “What!” said the spoilt child of fortune, “after such a butchery, will these Prussian rustics not leave me a nail? No results? no prisoners? no guns? Why, they rise from the dust. When will this be done. When will it end?”[46]It was on this field that the heroic Marshal Duroc[47]fell. The great conqueror was melted to tears. Taking the hand of his dying old comrade and pressing it to his heart: “Duroc,” said the great conqueror, “there is another world, where we shall meet again.” Memorable words, reader,wrung by anguish even from the child of infidelity. Again he exclaimed, “Another such victory, and I am undone.” No one dared to approach him. When appealed to for some urgent orders about the pursuit of the Allies, his answer was: “All to-morrow.” Murmurs, regrets, and despair were heard even among the most resolute. The Allies, backed up by British gold, arms, and munitions of war, here determined to fight it out to the bitter end; they might die, but not yield. The hero of Inkermann, Sir G. Cathcart, was in the thick of both battles. His conduct was the admiration of the Emperor Alexander. But at Lutzen and Bautzen the conqueror again fastened victory to the French eagle. The two fields cost him 40,500 officers and men. The undisciplined, raw material of Germany nobly faced Napoleon’s veterans. They made good use of the arms our people sent them. As soon as it was found out that Germany had made up its mind in earnest to fight for its liberty, old England at once gave the right hand of fellowship to the fatherland. They could but die; all they wanted was arms and money; and in two short months (from 18th March to 18th May) we sent to Germany, with a free heart, the following, besides keeping up Russia, Spain, and Portugal:—
Field-pieces with carriages, complete218Muskets and bayonets124,119Swords34,443Sets of uniform complete, with overcoats150,000Boots and shoes175,000Blankets114,000Linen shirts85,000Gaiters87,190Sets of accoutrements90,000Knapsacks, complete (with all necessaries)63,000Caps and feathers100,000Pairs of stockings (wool)69,624Pounds of biscuits702,000Pounds of beef and pork691,000
And at the same time, we advanced Russia nearly £2,000,000 sterling. Austria, Prussia, and the smallerGerman States, Spain and Portugal, were again at this time assisted with the nice little sum of nearly £10,000,000 sterling more. And it must be remembered that at this date our population was only 18,000,000: yet we had an army of 753,375, all voluntarily enlisted for life, or twenty-one years, or as long as required, with a fleet that was well manned, that had and could bid defiance to the world in arms: with a Native army in India of 201,000. It was a death-struggle. Old England was the leader, and our forefathers came out in their true colours, determined to die hard. For humanity’s sake, I would advise foreigners to let the Lion in the Briton slumber; for if once roused, I have not the slightest hesitation in asserting that, with our present population in the British isles alone—now nearly 40,000,000—we could put into the field, and keep more men there, than any single State in Europe would like to face. That same invincible spirit is still in the Briton that stood by them on the fields of Albuera and Inkermann. It would be more profitable to die with honour in defence of our homes and those we love so well, than to be treated as the Germans were from 1806 to 1813. The reader need not be at all astonished at the huge armies the Germans keep up at present. If they have to die, they are going to do so sword in hand; but there will be a lot of broken heads, bloody noses, and wooden legs, among their foes. But again, shortly after the terrible battle of Bautzen, an armistice was signed by Napoleon and the Allies. It was nothing but a blind to gain time to bring up his reinforcements from the Rhine. In the meantime the Allies were not idle. Napoleon was trying all he could to get Austria to join his standard, but the star of England again prevailed. It was plain to all that the days of Austerlitz and Jena were past: there was now unity. We at once assisted Austria with 100,000 stand of arms, and accoutrements, and £10,000,000 sterling, to put her army in motion. Old Marshal “Forward!” (Blücher)had said long before this “that if Germany wanted their freedom, they must do as England had done from the first—rise to a man and fight for it.” And the old hero said to his king, “We must stick to them, and never stop combating until the enemy are routed out of the Fatherland.” He said what he meant, for he never sheathed his victorious sword until the great conqueror was hurled from power. Wellington’s victories, one after another, in the north of Spain and south of France had roused the whole German people. Napoleon might well say, “What a war! we shall all leave our remains here.” The fact is, the British, side by side with the heroic boys of the Green Isle, had set Europe an example; the benevolent hand of our forefathers had touched the Germans in a vital point. They said, “If a nation of bankers and shopkeepers can beat the conquering legions and roll them up on every field, so will we, or die in the attempt.” But we had again to assist the Continent to strike the fetters off. Russia, Austria, and Prussia again received as a loan, at one per cent., £3,000,000 each: Spain, and Portugal, £2,000,000 each: Sweden, £2,000,000: and Sicily, £600,000 sterling, besides warlike stores. And our own forces were augmented to 1,107,000 men in arms, with upwards of 1,000 ships of war, manned by 140,000 seamen and 31,000 marines; for our big cousins must kick up a row with us, thinking of taking Canada from us. But they came off second best, although millions of money were lavished, and thousands of men fell on both sides.
At this time, Warren Hastings was carrying on a war on a large scale in India, and slice after slice was being added to our dominions out there; and yet our population was only 18,052,044. Europe owes a debt of gratitude to old England; her liberty was the fruit of British liberality. The vast hosts which stemmed the torrent of conquest on the Elbe, and rolled it back to the gates of Paris, were armed, clothed, and paid bythis nation,—this glorious old nation, that is second to none; that some short-sighted, weak-kneed old women—knaves—would fain make their children believe is going down the hill. We again would advise those who talk so loudly about our defenceless state, not to make fools of themselves. We shall not, I think, be found wanting more than our grandfathers were. And those that do not understand the true Briton, we would advise them to read a wee bit, or for ever hold their peace. Let our naval strength be doubled, if necessary. It is far better to be ready, not imbecile, in our vital point. We can do without butcher’s bills. We feel confident that our navy would hold their own. But let us proceed. Napoleon had once more collected a vast host around his standards on the plains of Dresden. The great conqueror once more throws down the gauntlet at the feet of Russia, Austria, Prussia, and Sweden. His army was composed of 467,947 infantry, 50,900 cavalry, 1,536 guns, with 35,000 artillerymen; in garrison strongholds, 80,300—total at Napoleon’s command 634,174, besides strong armies in the south of France. And in garrison he had yet upwards of 1,200,000 men to back him up; so that it required something more than short-sighted, weak-kneed old women to pull him from his exalted pinnacle. The Allies had in the field 721,383 men, with 1801 guns. All these forces were depending upon Mr. and Mrs. Bull’s inexhaustible long stocking. The terrible battle of Dresden was fought; it lasted two days. It is not my intention to describe it. Courage had done its best. But this rascal, Napoleon, was one too many for the Allies. He once more nailed victory to the French Eagle. It was not a crushing blow. The Allies retired from the field in good order. This was the last battle[48]on a grand scale the great conqueror ever won. The fruits of the victory were 13,000 prisoners (nearly all Austrians), 26 cannon, 18 standards, while 40,000 men lay in ghastly piles all over the bloody field. In the suburbs of Dresden the sight was heart-rending, dead and wounded lying in heaps, just as if eighty guns and ammunition waggons had dashed over them. Reader, these are some of the glories of war! Only a few days afterwards, the bloody field of Clum was fought.[49]The slaughter was terrible, for the numbers engaged. The enemy lost 18,000 men, 60 guns, 300 ammunition waggons, two eagles, and 5000 prisoners. This was an awkward blow, coming, as it did, from an army just defeated at Dresden.
The great conqueror’s race was run. He had made a good bid for heavy stakes, and had lost all, through Old England’s determined constancy. She was the instrument in the hands of God in successfully combating infidelity. Yet another terrible battle was fought at Kutczback. Marshals McDonald and Ney commanded, against the redoubtable Blücher. Napoleon’s pets again came off second best. Vast numbers, amounting to thousands, were charged with the bayonet into a raging mountain torrent, and drowned; the continued loud hurrahs telling the triumph of Germany. In trying to escape the infuriated cavalry, thousands more were engulfed, and swept away. In the morning, it was but about up to their knees, fordable at all points; but the flood-gates of heaven appeared to have opened to the destruction of the despisers of Christianity. The French were in overwhelming strength on the field. Things looked black for the strugglingGermans; but, owing to the heavy rains, the enemy were divided, and nearly all those who had crossed the (to all appearance) diminutive rivulet, but now a raging torrent, were destroyed in presence of Marshal Ney—one that was second to none for intrepidity. The enemy lost in killed or drowned 28,000 men; 18,000 prisoners, and 103 guns fell into the hands of Blücher. The torrent receded as fast as it had risen, and the fire-eating old Blücher followed the retiring enemy up all night, capturing prisoners and guns at every stride. Altogether, the enemy were weakened by 58,000 officers and men, with 165 guns, and no end of ammunition waggons and standards. This was the most glorious triumph the Germans had yet had. It had a wonderful effect upon the hitherto victorious legions of Napoleon. It spoke volumes. It told them plainly that a terrible day of retribution had dawned. And it aroused the Allies to the highest pitch of excitement. Thousands and tens of thousands who had left their fatherland after the crush at Jena, and came to England, now solicited our Government to send them back to fight in the ranks of their fatherland. The Government nobly responded, and shipped them off in thousands, armed to the teeth. They cheered heartily for Old England and England’s King, as they sailed out of Harwich. Hundreds of them cried for joy, to think that the day of vengeance had dawned—that they would be able to wipe out the stain of insulted mothers and ruined sisters. Hundreds shouted out with all their might, “God bless Old England!” and shaking their swords and guns above their heads, they swore to conquer or die. It was no longer anarmythat Napoleon had to confront, butnations in arms. Princes, counts, dukes, poets, tinkers, and tailors, were all animated with the same determined resolution “to conquer or die.” And, reader, when a nation is unanimously determined to have their freedom, it is better to build a bridge of gold for them to pass over than to try and keep themin subjection. The following lines were composed and written by the German poet, Theodore Korwen, on the morning of his death, on the bloody field of Dresden:—
“Thou sword upon my thigh,Those beaming glances, why?Thou look’st so pleased on me:I’ve all my joy in thee.Hurrah!“In the belt of a gallant knightMy glance is ever bright;A freeman is my lord,And this makes glad the sword.Hurrah!“Yes, trusty sword, I’m free,And fondly cherish thee;Dear as a bride, thou artThe treasure of my heart.Hurrah!“The trumpet-blast at dawnUshers in our wedding morn;When the hollow cannon roar,We’ll meet to part no more.Hurrah!“Oh, sumptuous wedding cheer,What goodly guests are here!Ay, now the steed will gleam,Like a bride on the morning beam.Hurrah!“Up, up, ye warriors stout,Out, German riders, out;Do ye feel your hearts’ glow warm?Take the loved one to thine arm.Hurrah!“Haste, give her lips the pledge,A kiss to the iron edge;Tide good, or evil tide,Curst he who fails his bride.Hurrah!“Now bid the charmer sing,While sparkling sword-blades ring;’Tis our marriage matins’ peal:Hurrah! thou bride of steel!Hurrah!”
“Thou sword upon my thigh,Those beaming glances, why?Thou look’st so pleased on me:I’ve all my joy in thee.Hurrah!
“In the belt of a gallant knightMy glance is ever bright;A freeman is my lord,And this makes glad the sword.Hurrah!
“Yes, trusty sword, I’m free,And fondly cherish thee;Dear as a bride, thou artThe treasure of my heart.Hurrah!
“The trumpet-blast at dawnUshers in our wedding morn;When the hollow cannon roar,We’ll meet to part no more.Hurrah!
“Oh, sumptuous wedding cheer,What goodly guests are here!Ay, now the steed will gleam,Like a bride on the morning beam.Hurrah!
“Up, up, ye warriors stout,Out, German riders, out;Do ye feel your hearts’ glow warm?Take the loved one to thine arm.Hurrah!
“Haste, give her lips the pledge,A kiss to the iron edge;Tide good, or evil tide,Curst he who fails his bride.Hurrah!
“Now bid the charmer sing,While sparkling sword-blades ring;’Tis our marriage matins’ peal:Hurrah! thou bride of steel!Hurrah!”
Fight followed fight in rapid succession. The great conqueror had not taught his marshals how to winfields; they were all beaten in detail. They were splendid leaders of divisions, so long as their great captain was at the helm. He could not give them brains. Marshal Soult was his right-hand man, but he had to go and try to stem the tide of Wellington, who was just one too many for him upon field after field. Defeat after defeat now began to tell upon the French, and from the great conqueror down to the drummer crept a secret feeling of distrust. It is true, Napoleon himself had not yet been beaten, but news was coming in almost daily that gave him a lot of disquietude. The news of Wellington’s triumph at Vittoria flew through Germany like wild-fire. The whole French army on that field were routed. They lost all their guns (151), 10,000 prisoners fell into our hands, and one million pounds sterling. King Joseph’s coach and all his State papers were part of the booty of this field. It caused the Spanish crown to fall from Joseph’s head, and swept the troops of the tyrant out of Spain.[50]
“Rule, Britannia,” and “God save the King,” were struck up all through the allied camp, which, re-echoing through the Bohemian mountains, told Napoleon plainly that Europe was united against him, and that the detested Albions had turned the tables upon him. Our forefathers had made up their minds to conquer or die;their strength, their shield, their stronghold, was in a Triune God. Europe was shaken to its foundations; duty, based on religion, was arrayed against talent destitute of God. Combat followed combat; but at Gross Beeren—another awkward field—Napoleon’s invincibles were again beaten. The field was covered with the slain, 10,000 of the enemy lying in ghastly piles. Thirteen guns, and 1,500 prisoners, fell into the hands of the Allies. Every German heart began to throb with emotion. The Saxons, who had hitherto fought in the ranks of the French, came over in a body from the ranks of the common enemy to fight in the ranks of the fatherland; and with bands playing and colours flying, at once turned about and slipped into their former comrades. But my readers must remember their comradeship was of a forced nature. Yet another terrible defeat was sustained by the heroic Ney, on the field of Dennewitz. The enemy here lost 13,000 officers and men, and 43 guns. Six thousand stand of arms were thrown away in order to accelerate their flight. The Allies lost 6,000—5,000 of whom were Prussians. Napoleon now began to see that his Marshals could not cope with the allied Generals. They were all beaten in detail; so he called them all in, with their armies, and retired on the memorable field of Leipsic, and there put the now united allied armies at defiance. As soon as it suited the plans and time of the allied Commander-in-Chief, this terrible battle commenced. It lasted for three days of unparalleled fighting. The stakes were heavy; freedom on one side, and despotic military slavery on the other. With ringing shouts, on the third day of this butchery, the allied armies advanced in massive columns to storm Napoleon’s last position. Under the eye of their beloved chief, the Old Guard fought with desperation, but it was all to no purpose; the great conqueror was defeated. A deep and rapid stream (the Elster) was behind him, with but one bridge. The Allies, who had carried the ramparts ofLeipsic with a frightful slaughter, were nowpell-mellafter the foe. No quarter was given or taken. Thousands on both sides succumbed to the deadly thrust of the bayonet. The Allies, we must remember, were flushed with victory after victory. They had twenty years of cruel bondage to avenge. During this dreadful fight, the bridge—the only line of retreat open—was blown up. A terrible shriek of despair burst from thousands. All who had not crossed must die or surrender. Retribution had overtaken guilty, haughty, insulting France; she was being humbled to the dust.
“The path of glory leads but to the grave.”
“The path of glory leads but to the grave.”
It was on this field that the last representative of the royal line of Poland perished. “Gentlemen,” said that undaunted prince to the officers around him (drawing his sword), “it now behoves us to die with honour;” and plunging into the midst of a Russian column, he terminated a life of honour. It was one of the last scenes of this bloody drama, which was frightful on both sides. The brunt of the fighting, as will be noticed, fell upon the Russians:—
OtherNon-CommissionedGenerals.Officers.Officers & Privates.The Russianslost1886421,740The Prussians〃252014,950The Austrians〃13999,793The Swedes〃—10321—————————Total loss of Allies21179346,804
The enemy’s loss was terrible: 28 generals, 2,540 officers, and 60,000 men fell. Prisoners: 1 king (of Saxony), 24 generals, 4,000 officers, 68,000 men; 350 guns, 900 ammunition waggons, eagles and standards by wholesale. The blowing up of the bridge saved the wreck of Napoleon’s army; thousands were taken prisoners through it. But its destruction prevented the victorious allied cavalry from following up a beaten foe. The first-fruits of the victory was the sweepingof the French out of Germany, except those that were in the strong fortress. They all, to a man—now over 120,000 men—had to surrender in due course or die. The multitude of mouths soon ate up all their stores. Napoleon was now retiring with his half-famished, beaten, dejected army; three-fourths of those that had fought so bravely, then in life’s morning march, had perished or were captives. The army was more like a huge funeral procession than a warlike army—pressing on, pensive and silent. Many of them envied the lot of those who had fallen, for then they would not have witnessed the degradation of France. The Allies were in close pursuit of Napoleon, who did not attempt to stop until he had put the Rhine between him and his enemies. At the same time, Wellington was nailing victory after victory to our standard in the south of France. There was a lot of humble pie for Napoleon to eat. Mrs. Bull was the cook, with Pat for an assistant, whose conduct had often been the admiration of all, when our old flag was in danger.
As we have said, the Allied armies were in close pursuit of Napoleon’s legions, dejected and forlorn. 300,000 more men were demanded (food for powder) by Napoleon, but he was rolled up before the quarter of them could be brought up. The campaign of the great conqueror in France, in 1814, was sublime. With about 60,000 men, he kept at bay the huge armies of the Allies for months. Combat followed combat in rapid succession. If he could not strike out with that power he had done on former fields, on which his fame was built as an all-conquering general, he stung their huge armies terribly. The loss of the Allies was greater in this short campaign than Napoleon’s whole strength. But the Allies, in majestic strength, were now fast approaching Paris. The conqueror’s generalship was of no avail now. Guilty Paris was soon surrounded with an iron girdle, and tens of thousands, in their excitement, called upon their artillery to fire on Paris.But, no! the Emperor Alexander avenged mother Moscow by saving father Paris: and thus guilty, haughty Paris was saved from destruction in a true spirit of Christianity, which any thinking man must admire. But, in order to keep the Allies together, Mr. Bull had again to shell out with the nice little round sum of £12,000,000 sterling. That was the last stroke that pulled the usurper from the throne and sent him to the Isle of Elba, with the empty title ofEmpereur. Peace was now made with France. The tyrant was stricken down; but no indemnity had France to pay. Revolutionary France was humbled in the dust: her capital had been in the hands of her enemies, and her sons defeated on field after field; but their wives and daughters were respected. Infidelity had been conquered by Christianity. The whole of the Allied sovereigns, with their princes, marshals, and chief generals—some of the bravest of the brave—came to England after the peace of 1814, before returning to their own country, to do homage to our king, and to thank a free people, with a warm heart, personally, for their energy and indomitable perseverance: who had saved themselves by their firmness, and Europe by their example and generosity. But there were then, as now, thousands in Old England who knew well it was not our arm that saved us from bondage. She had an open Bible, and our forefathers were not at all ashamed to call God their Father: “O Lord, save Thy people, and bless Thine inheritance,” went straight up to the throne of grace from thousands of honest hearts daily. They acknowledged then, as now, that they were His people, His “chosen people,” His “inheritance.” They acknowledged before a wicked world that they were His “servants,” and that “none other fighteth for us but Thou, O God!”[51]And how could they saytheyhad won the victory, now the time had come the tyrant was struck down? To give God all the praise, all denominations openly thanked an All-wise God fervently for His powerful aid. It belongs to our historians to recount the festivities of that joyous period. The Emperor Alexander, on visiting the Arsenal at Woolwich, with its acres of cannon, shot, shell, and all kinds of warlike implements ready, exclaimed: “Why, this resembles the preparation of a great nation for the commencement of a war, rather than stores still remaining at the termination of a struggle for very existence for twenty-two years.”
The following table will help my readers to see a little into the cost of war in blood, in France alone. Thousands, yea, hundreds of thousands of once happy homes were made miserable. No tongue can tell the amount of misery this terrible war had brought about. Mothers refused to be comforted, their darling boys being torn from their homes. Wives refused to be comforted for loved husbands torn from their bosoms. Thousands, and hundreds of thousands of orphans were left upon a cold world, all to gratify one man’s ambition for power.
Taken by conscription from 1793 to 1813:
Totals.1793No dates300,00017931,200,0001798200,0001799200,000180130,000180517th January60,000180524th September80,00018064th December80,00018077th April80,000180821st January80,000180810th September160,000180918th April40,00018095th October36,000181013th December160,000181120th December120,000181213th March100,00018121st September137,000181311th January300,00018133rd April300,000181324th August100,00018139th October200,000181315th November140,0001813November300,000————Grand Total4,403,000————
But these figures do not include hundreds of thousands of young men that were induced, by nice soft talk, to voluntarily join the army, to gain distinction under their beloved pet corporal, as they were wont to call Napoleon. Many of them did well, as nearly all his marshals rose from butchers, publicans, tinkers, or shoemakers; in fact, many of them from the lowest of the low. Their actions bespoke their origin as soon as they were in power, either in Germany, Spain, or Portugal.
Europe had been convulsed in a death-struggle, in the iron grasp of revolutionary France, for twenty-two years. The map of Europe was completely upset. Kingdoms were shaken to their foundations. New kingdoms were formed at pleasure, to suit the whims of this restless tyrant. Old England, with her unconquerable fleet, was the only Power which had escaped the ravages of war. A merciful God, who neither slumbers nor sleeps, had built a hedge round about us. “The prayer of a righteous man,” we are told, “availeth much;” and thousands and tens of thousands of honest hearts, both publicly and privately, daily supplicated athrone of grace for His powerful aid: “From war, good Lord, deliver us.” Napoleon was a wonderful man, with an eagle eye. He fastened victory after victory, triumph after triumph, to his standards. He was endowed with a large mind, an iron will, and a cold heart. Nelson was the first man that thwarted his plans. The destruction of his fleet at the Nile was a heavy blow. To replace that fleet, a secret treaty was entered into with the Danes. The whole of their fleet was to have been placed at the disposal of this iron-minded man, to assist in the invasion of our beloved isle. But again our God warded off the blow. Our Government were not napping; they found it all out just in time to despatch our one-eyed, one-armed hero, Nelson, to Copenhagen. The whole of the Danish fleet was demanded. It was a daring stroke; but, reader, sharp diseases require sharp remedies. It was life or death with us as a nation. The brave Danes would not comply, but fought for it, and lost all, except their honour. It was here that the darling hero of England put his glass to his blind eye, and said he could not see the signal. He did not want to see it. His answer to the distasteful signal was: “Nail my signal to the mast-head for closer action.” Thus he crushed the enemy’s fleet, and once more nailed victory to the flag which is second to none. Napoleon was mad with rage, to see his plans again frustrated by these detested Albions. The next crushing blow this dauntless hero gave the tyrant was at Trafalgar. It was a death-stroke to this eagle-eyed usurper. It swept his flag and his allies from the sea, and proclaimed to the nations of the earth that Britain ruled on sea. This triumph, my young readers must know, was purchased by our noble hero’s life-blood. It was on the field of Austerlitz, with the Russians and their Allies completely crushed, that Napoleon said to those around him: “Gentlemen, all we want now are fleets and commerce.” He had hardly pronounced the words,when he received the news of the annihilation of his fleets, and those of his allies, by Nelson at Trafalgar; and that the hero was dead. He was completely dumbfounded. His first words were: “Would to God that man had been dead ten years ago.” Our darling hero was in life not immaculate; but it was evident to all thinking men that this dauntless hero was the instrument in the hands of God to combat infidelity. Our statesmen soon converted enemies into allies, and stuck to Napoleon like a good bull-dog until he was worried out, and landed in safety on the isle of Elba, under a faithful promise of peace and good-will to all. It was soon found that this tyrant could not slumber in the uneasy pomp at Elba. The whole of the representatives of Europe were now at Vienna, in Congress, squabbling over the spoil of dismembered Europe. When the astounding news of Napoleon’s flight from Elba was announced to that body by Count Talleyrand, all disputes were at once thrown overboard. All were unanimous that this restless usurper should be crushed, with all those that supported him. No time was to be lost, for nearly all the French army had joined him. His name had such a charm, that tens of thousands of veterans, whom the prisons of the continent and ours had let loose, at once rushed to his standards. It was plain to all, that, in order to put him down, Europe must combine—that it would be a death-struggle. The old shouts ofVive l’Empereurresounded across the frontier as a challenge to Europe. It was at once agreed that the British should furnish 125,000 men. Her magnificent fleets were to blockade all French ports, or destroy all that dare to put to sea. Prussia was to put into the field, within three months, 236,000 men; Austria, with as little delay as possible, 300,000 men; Russia, 225,000 men; the smaller German States, 150,000 men; Holland, 50,000 men; Spain and Portugal, 200,000 men. Thus Napoleon would have to combat Europe combined, with 1,286,000 men in arms—all in the pay ofthis glorious old isle. It cost us just one hundred and ten millions sterling to finally rid Europe of this tyrannical monster. It was plain to all that the British, supported by Prussia, were to be the advance guard of the hosts of Europe. It is not my intention to go into the oft-told tale of Waterloo; but a short explanation of Marshal Grouchy’s movements, I hope, will set some right; together with some of the leading features of that historic red field. In plain language, Grouchy simply obeyed strictly Napoleon’s instructions—he was well aware of the implicit obedience to orders which Napoleon exacted—without even attempting to form an opinion of his own. His orders were, to follow up the Prussians, to attack them, and never to lose sight of them. The terrible battle of Wavre was fought the same day as that of Waterloo. General Thielman’s corps of Prussians fought it out to the bitter end, and kept Grouchy’s men fully employed all day. It was not until seven p.m. that Grouchy received orders to manœuvre on St. Lambert. Up to this, Grouchy’s army had been repulsed and driven back no less than thirteen times during that terrible day. They fought from four a.m. till midnight, and then the bridge of Wavre remained in the hands of the Prussians. The slaughter was terrible. Marshal Blücher knew well that his rear was attacked; but that heroic old veteran knew also that it was not at Wavre that the fate of Europe was to be decided, but at Waterloo; and, with the true spirit of a general, he resolved to sacrifice Thielman’s corps, if necessary, in order to destroy Napoleon’s army at Waterloo. All minor objects had to stand in abeyance. The brave General Thielman not only kept Grouchy back, but beat him at all points. The terrible combats at Quatre Bras and Ligny had already shown up the quality of the troops under the different commanders. Napoleon’s army was composed principally of veterans of a hundred fields; they were almost strangers to defeat. Victory had followed victory,and they felt confident their beloved pet corporal’s star was still in the ascendant. They felt proud in once more following their all-conquering Emperor, who had so often led them on to victory.
As far as Quatre Bras was concerned, Napoleon’s invincible pets were handled very roughly by Sir Thomas Picton’s division and the Guards, and victory was once more nailed to our glorious old flag. My readers must not lose sight of the fact that Sir Thomas Picton had just completed a long dreary march of twenty-two miles. The Brunswickers were holding on manfully, well knowing that the thin red line was advancing to their assistance. Every regiment of Sir Thomas’s division particularly distinguished itself. The conduct of the “Old Slashers” (28th) was sublime. They threw themselves into square as the cuirassiers were approaching. But, suddenly, all appeared to be lost: they were assailed on three sides at once. All was calm; not a voice was heard but that of Sir Thomas Picton, who was inside the square. This noble old hero called out, “Twenty-eighth! remember Egypt.” The next word was from its Colonel: “Twenty-eighth! Ready—fire!” and down came the proud horsemen, or they were scattered in all directions. None but resolute, cool men, would ever have won that bloody field. The enemy had upwards of five thousand splendid horse on the field. We had none—nothing but a few guns and stubborn infantry. It was “do or die,” until the Guards and other reinforcements came up. But it was plain to all that the brunt of the fighting would have to be borne by the British, Hanoverians, and Brunswickers. That rascal, Napoleon, was again victorious over the Prussians the same day at Ligny; but old Marshal Blücher, although defeated, was not subdued, as the sequel will prove. He retired in good order from the field of carnage, leaving nothing but heaps of slain for the victor. Although our conquering commander had defeated Marshal Ney, hewas compelled to retire, as his flank was exposed to Napoleon’s eagle eye by the retreat of the Prussians. On that night, our victorious General found means to have an interview with old Marshal Forward (Blücher). The great conqueror was yet to be met; heavy stakes were yet to be fought for; the great contest of twenty-two years was yet to be decided. It was worth a “brush.” It was liberty against military despotic slavery; infidelity against Christianity. Our commander well knew that, in point of numbers and experience, his army was much inferior to that of the enemy. He had only about 50,000 upon whom he could rely, and most of them consisted of recruits who had never seen a shot fired. Wellington estimated the enemy at about 80,000 or 90,000 men, after deducting their loss in the two battles just fought. He informed the fire-eating old Blücher of his victory over Marshal Ney, and that he would accept battle with the conqueror of Europe on the plains of Waterloo, if he (Blücher) would only promise to support him with one or two corps. The dauntless old hero at once promised to support His Grace, not with one or two corps, but with his whole army; that he would be on the field, on Napoleon’s flank, by one o’clock, and that the two armies would crush the restless tyrant. It was enough; Blücher had pledged his word in honour. The spoilt child of fortune had now two resolute men to face, who, with all their followers, might die, but never yield. And during that dreadful butchery, as hour after hour rolled on, and attack after attack were driven back with frightful slaughter, the dauntless cuirassiers, who had frequently ridden through Russians, Austrians, Prussians, Spaniards, and Portuguese, were repulsed time after time, and driven in headlong confusion from our squares. One commander sent to His Grace the Duke of Wellington for assistance. The answer was, “Tell him I have none; he and I, with every Briton on this field, must conquer or die.” “Enough; we will share his fate, mymen.” Napoleon’s old Guards, that had decided in his favour almost every field their pet corporal had won, were formed up for the final attack. As for fear, they did not know what it was; with them, it was death or victory. Napoleon came part of the way with them. They were, in this instance, made to believe that they were advancing to an assured victory, with the heroic Marshal Ney as their leader. They advanced with deafening shouts of “Vive l’Empereur.” The Guards, grim-faced as they were, had to bow to the all-conquering British bayonet. They were driven back by our Guards and the 52nd with a terrible rush, by that never-failing weapon. The intrepid Marshal Ney tried to find death, but could not. Six o’clock had struck. The hero of a hundred fields might well get a little uneasy, and turn his glass in the direction from which he expected assistance. One corps of Blücher’s army had been on the field since 4 p.m., and the enemy fought desperately to keep old Marshal Forward from joining in the fight. Wellington’s confidence in the lion-hearted old veteran was not misplaced on this trying occasion. He proved to the world that he was worthy to lead the vanguard of that host which was combating for the independence of Europe. His men sank to their ankles, and their artillery to the axles, in mud, complaining that they could not get on. The horses could not move the guns. These horsemen at once put their shoulders to the wheels, until they were completely exhausted, and sank down in the mud. Blücher then addressed them: “My children, you must get on; you would not have me break my word. Courage! my dear children; courage!” and at once sounded the charge. This had the effect. The roar of the firing at Waterloo told them plainly that a dreadful battle was being fought. The old veteran again told them that he was leading them on to victory. “Forward, children! Forward!” About 7 p.m. the lion-hearted Blücher burst with all the fury of the king of the forest upon the flank of thegreat conqueror. The last attack of Napoleon’s redoubtable Guards were just recoiling in confusion from our victorious bayonets. The last hour of Napoleon’s Empire had struck. The disturber of the peace of Europe that morning issued a most striking proclamation to his army, which roused it to the highest possible state of fanatic madness. Perhaps he thought it was needed, as they were about to face the detested Albions. He concluded his fiery address thus: “For every Frenchman who has a heart, the moment has arrived to conquer or die.” It was received with wild fanatic shouts of “Vive l’Empereur,” which resounded for miles, and struck terror into the hearts of thousands who were under Wellington’s standard as Allies. Well, the gauntlet was thrown down at the feet of the deliverer of Spain and Portugal. I would here note that the raw, undisciplined recruits of Great Britain have, on more than one occasion, been compared with the rustics who fought so desperately on the fields of Bautzen and Lutzen, when the great conqueror exclaimed: “What! will these rustics not leave me a nail?” The only difference was, our lads at Waterloo were dressed as soldiers; and the Germans fought and died in the dress they came from the plough:—