At half-past five, according to Count Drouet, the Prussians first came into collision with the sixth corps, which, with Domont’s cavalry, had been placed on Napoleon’s right wing, specially to give these new comers a warm reception. The contest soon became an earnest one on this side; Planchenoit, in the rear of Napoleon’s right centre, was taken, and retaken, and he felt obliged to send some battalions of the Young Guard to strengthen Count Lobau. In this new struggle an hour or more passed, and seven o’clock, the last hour of the day drew on.
Here Gourgaud stops to claim a triumph. He says, “65 to 68,000 French troopshad beaten115,000 English, Prussians, &c.” But then he adds, “The Emperor was of opinion that this was the moment for making a decisive attack, anddetermining the fate of the day.” So that, although the English and Prussians are assumed to be beaten, the “fate of the day” remains “to be determined.”
In fact, not one single step in retreat had the English army yet taken. About six o’clock, indeed, the farm-house of La Haye Sainte was abandoned by its English defenders, simply because their ammunition was expended, and without ammunition they could not defend the place. This was the one solitary advantage gained by the French in the whole day; and even this was not wrested by them from the English; the post was evacuated by the latter for the reason we have stated. And La Haye Sainte, it should be remembered, was about 200 yardsin advanceof the British line. It was an outpost, and not a part of the main line. Its capture at an earlier period might have seriously endangered the Duke’s centre; but at this late hour Napoleon had but one card left to play, and in playing it the possession of La Haye Sainte did not greatly aid him.
Up to seven o’clock, then, this one poor outpost was the only foot of ground gained by the French, in compensation for what Ney calls “the most frightful carnage that I have ever witnessed.” He is not here speaking of the defeat of the Imperial Guard, but of what preceded it. He had led, at one o’clock, the attack by D’Erlon’s corps on the centre and left of the English position, and at three o’clock he had sent the heavy cavalry in among the British battalions. It is of these two attacksthat Ney is speaking, and of the manner in which they were repulsed; and this veteran soldier, after witnessing Borodino, Leipsic, and twenty other fields of slaughter, describes the defeat of the first corps, and the destruction of the cavalry, as a “carnage” the like of which he had never before beheld.
“The Emperor,” says Gourgaud, “was now of opinion that the moment was come for making a decisive attack, and determining the fate of the day.” Yes, the moment was come; for, if the matter had been left as it stood, Napoleon’s overthrow on the following morning would have been made certain. “I knew,” said the Duke, long after, “that if my troops could keep their position till night, I must be joined by Blucher before morning, and we should not have left Bonaparte an army next day.” To keep the English and Prussian armies apart had been Napoleon’s chief endeavour, but the sagacity and military talent of the two Generals had defeated this purpose. The French army had only crossed the frontier on the 15th, and here, on the 18th, were the two allied armies already uniting on the same battle-field. When, therefore, Gourgaud tells us, in lofty and decorous language, that “the Emperor was of opinion that this was the moment for making a decisive attack, and determining the fate of the day,” the real meaning of these dignified phrases is, that Napoleon saw that one chance only remained to him, and that he must break the British line by the whole force of the Imperial Guard, or retire from the field a discomfited commander; to sustain in his turn an attack from the united armies the very next day. His strongest army-corps, the first and second, had both been cut up and crippled; his splendid cavalry were at that moment being “massacred” by the English grapeshot and musket-firing; and the only weapon of power that remained to him was this noble body of men, who had triumphed in fifty battles—his invincible phalanx, the Imperial Guard. At seven o’clock, therefore, or about that hour, he turned to this, his last resource, and ordered to the front this chosen and favourite arm, the right employment of which had given him so many victories.
SEVEN O’CLOCK.
It is not easy, amidst the various and contradictory accounts of the different French historians, to ascertain with exactness the real force employed in this attack. The Young Guard, under General Duhesme, had been partly employed in the defence of Planchenoit. The Old Guard,and the Middle Guard, had not up to this period of the battle drawn a trigger. Their strength is stated by Gourgaud to have been on this day 4400 and 4200, or, united, 8600 men.[37]This force far exceeded any strength which the Duke could bring to bear upon any given point. In fact the two brigades of General Maitland and General Adam had to sustain this attack. The first, consisting of two battalions of Foot-guards, had marched forth two days before 1997 strong. On the evening of Waterloo it numbered only 1027; and doubtless, when this attack of the Imperial Guard came, it had not more than 1100 or 1150 bayonets. The other, General Adam’s brigade, consisting of the 52nd, 71st, and 95th regiments, had been 2621 strong, but it was now reduced to about 2000. Such was the force on either side which was now to engage in the last terrible encounter of this great contest.
But, while he was preparing for what he hoped would be the decisive blow, Napoleon sent orders to both his wings to prepare for a renewed attack, simultaneously, on Hougoumont and on the British left and centre. The chateau defended itself bravely and successfully, as it had done throughout the day. But the possession of La Haye Sainte gave the first corps of the French army great advantages, and the pressure on the British line at this point became fearfully severe. A German battalion was cut up by a charge of French cuirassiers: a body of Brunswick infantry, which the Duke had moved up to strengthen the line, gave way, and retired about 100 paces, and it required all the Duke’s personal exertions to bring them to reform and stand their ground. The Prince of Orange had been wounded, and the Nassau troops under his command were with great difficulty induced to keep their ground. The British line had never been in so much danger of being broken as at this moment. But scarcely an hour of the day now remained, and the contest which was just taking place on the right centre was to be decisive of the fate of the day.
The grand attack of the Imperial Guard, to which Napoleon looked to decide the fate of his empire, was now beginning. Captain Siborne states the two columns of attack to have consisted of ten battalions, besides two battalions left as a reserve. If these battalions consisted of 600 men each, they would amount to 6000; but if of 720 men each, they would amount, on the whole, to 7200 men, and these were unquestionably the first soldiers in France.
These columns were formed in front of La Belle Alliance, and began their advance with that kind of mismanagement which had marked many of the movements of the French leaders throughout the day; they did not advance simultaneously, but the first column preceded the second, although the two took different courses. Neither did they assail that part of the Duke’s line which was the weakest, but threw themselves upon two brigades of the British infantry.
Of the two columns,—one of which skirted the enclosures of Hougoumont, and aimed at the right of the British line, while the other made its onset nearer to the centre,—the latter gained the precedence. As it descended into the valley, and allowed the French artillery on the heights behind an opportunity for action, the whole of these guns opened fire with a rapidity and weight which had not been experienced before throughout the day. Wherever a regiment was visible in the British line, there the round-shot and howitzer shells rained death upon it. But by degrees the attacking columns passed through the hollow ground, and began to ascend the opposite heights. Now they became visible to the British artillery, and the cannon-shot plunged into their masses with tremendous effect. The horse of Marshal Ney was killed; General Friant was wounded, and General Michel was killed. On the fall of the latter, a battalion of grenadiers came to a halt; but another General succeeded in inspiring it with new courage. The column moved forward, sorely shaken by its losses; but at last it crowned the height, and to its astonishment saw nothing before it but a small battery of field-pieces, and a few mounted officers in the rear. But one of these was the Duke, and the next moment the word of command was heard, “Up, Guards, and at them!” The British Guards, who had been ordered to lie down, sprang to their feet, in a compact line of four deep, and in a few seconds, a volley was heard, and then another, and a third; and in the first minute 300 of the attacking column fell. The French officers rushed to the front, and called upon the men to deploy into line. Lord Saltoun exclaimed to the English Guards, “Now’s your time, my boys!”—and the Duke exclaimed, “Charge!” The brigade sprang forward, with a cheer, to the charge. All was disorder in the French ranks. Many flung down their arms and knapsacks and dispersed; the mass, in dire confusion, rushed down the slope, with the English Guards in full pursuit.
But the English were instantly called back, for now appeared in sight the second column, which, shrinking from the fire of the batteries which had so crushed the first, diverged to the right, and by this mistakenmove, presented its flank to General Adam’s brigade. The brigade of Guards was formed in its front, while the 52nd and 71st regiments were on its flank. The three regiments poured such a fire into the mass, that it melted like snow in the sunshine. Soon was repeated the order, “Charge!” and the two brigades assailing the devoted column at once in its front and on its flank, swept it from the field. In a few moments the hollow ground was crowded with fugitives; Napoleon’s last stake was lost; the battle of Waterloo was, practically, ended.
Of this terrible conflict, Lamartine rapidly sketches the progress, in a few glowing lines,—a summary of various French narratives:
“These 6000 grenadiers advanced with shouldered arms, amidst cries of ‘Vive l’Empereur!’ Wellington awaited them with forty pieces of cannon, with the matches lighted. As they ascended and approached, the battery fired a volley point-blank into the advancing mass, which, as the smoke arose, was seen to waver for a moment; then to close up and advance as compact as ever. On a second discharge the same oscillation took place, the same closing up. On the third discharge the English saw the column reduced to a block of men, decimated by grape-shot:—two of the battalions had been struck down, the other two hesitated, and recoiled to seek another means of access to these impregnable heights. Napoleon turned pale, and at length doubted of victory.”
This may be said to be the language of a florid writer, depicting the event long after its occurrence. But Count Drouet, who witnessed the whole scene, thus described it in the Chamber of Peers, just six days after the battle:—
“The (first) four battalions of the Guard, when they arrived on the plateau, were received by the most terrible fire of musquetry and grape. Thegreat number of wounded menwho separate from the column, cause it to be believed that the Guard is routed. A panic terror communicates itself to the neighbouring (or second) column, which precipitately takes flight.”
Count Drouet, witnessing the repulse of both the columns, from the height behind, might suppose that the dispersal of the second arose from panic; but in so thinking, he did injustice to his countrymen. The second column came into action as gallantly us the first; but, although it was the stronger of the two, it had to contend with two English brigades instead of one; and its chance of success was therefore proportionally smaller. Clearly, it was bad generalship to send the two columns, one after the other, to be beaten separately. Had they reached theBritish position at the same moment, they would have brought against the two British brigades a force outnumbering them by two to one. Gourgaud thus describes the fate of this second column: “The eight battalions of the Guard which were in the centre, after having withstood for a long time all the attacks of the enemy, and contended for every foot of ground, were at last completely disorganized by the mass of the fugitives, and overwhelmed by the numbers of the enemy.”
With the failure of this, his last attack, Napoleon’s hopes, and his empire, ended. His fall, when it came at last, proved a crash which left nothing for destruction to do. At the moment when the Imperial Guards were sent back in confusion, the Prussians under Marshal Blucher had come into action. His cavalry had supported the English left, and two brigades of English cavalry, which guarded the extreme left of the Duke’s position, had been released from this duty, and had moved to the support of the British centre. And now, the Prussian infantry of the first corps, commanded by General Zieten, rushed upon the villages of La Haye and Smohain, and instantly carried them at the bayonet’s point. A third column renewed the attack on Planchenoit, which was almost in the centre of the French position. The moment was come for a general advance, and the Duke, with that wonderful perception which distinguished his whole career, instantly seized it. He himself describes this critical moment, in the account written the very next day. He says:—
“Having observed that the troops (Imperial Guard) retired from this attack in great confusion, and that the march of the Prussians on Planchenoit had begun to take effect, I determined to attack the enemy, and immediately advanced the whole line of infantry, supported by the cavalry and artillery.”
An eye-witness thus described the scene at the time, “The Duke, who had been attentively observing what was passing in the French and Prussian armies, suddenly shut up his telescope, and exclaimed to the officers near him, ‘Now, every man must advance!’”
Long had this order been eagerly expected. The British troops had stood for more than eight hours under a terrible fire. They had seen more than one-fourth of their numbers struck down by cannon-shot, and they longed for one final struggle, which should end the whole contest. The order flew to the right and to the left, and loud were the shouts with which it was received. Everywhere the lines of infantry were formed, the cavalry mounted and rode on, and a scene of triumph andexultation commenced, of which none who witnessed it could ever lose the memory.
We have observed, a few sentences back, that only half an hour before, two brigades of light cavalry, Vivian’s and Vandeleur’s, had been moved from the extreme left of the English line, and brought nearer to the centre. These six regiments, numbering about 2000 sabres, were now of the greatest possible service, in driving before them the broken and scattered French. They charged and dispersed various bodies of cavalry which attempted to form and make a stand, and continued pressing upon the fugitives of the infantry till the whole mass of Napoleon’s army melted into a chaotic crowd. And now were seen, on all sides, “unfurled colours raised aloft, bands striking up, the soldiers cheering tumultuously, as, with one simultaneous movement, they quitted the height on which they had so long stood, and descended joyfully into the plain, over which the French, on all sides, were now retreating in disorder.”
Their great commander himself was naturally among the foremost in this magnificent advance. Napier says, “The Duke, who was stationed on the left of the guns and the right of the Guards, gave the order to advance, and like lightning rode to the rear, and brought up the light cavalry, cheering them on, with his hat off—his cheers most cordially echoed by my brave fellows and myself.” He rode in front of Adam’s brigade, cheering it forward, speaking joyously to the men, and receiving their hearty shouts of congratulation. At last one of his staff ventured to hint to him that they were getting into the enemy’s lines, and that his life ought not to be thrown away. “Never mind,” was the reply, “the battle’s won, and my life is of no consequence now.”
Down the slope of their own heights, across the valley, up the face of the enemy’s hill, marched the British line triumphantly. Here and there a remnant of a French battalion or squadron offered a brief resistance; but the cry of “Sauve qui peut!” had been heard, and the French knew that the battle was lost, and that the Prussians were already in their rear. Hence Fleury de Chaboulon, Napoleon’s own secretary, thus describes the close:—
“Wellington did not allow our grenadiers time to recollect themselves. He caused them to be attacked in flank by his cavalry, and compelled them to retire in the greatest disorder. At the same moment the Prussians carried the village of La Haye; and our cavalry, our infantry, already staggered by the defeat of the Guard, were afraid of being cut off, and precipitately retreated. The other troops of the right, seeingsome of our squadrons pell-mell, and some of the Guards running away, thought all was lost, and quitted their position. This contagious movement was communicated in an instant to the left, and the whole army abandoned its strongest posts as eagerly as they had previously assailed them. Soon the whole army was nothing but a confused crowd, which the English and Prussians routed without effort, and massacred without pity.”[38]
“Napoleon,” says Lamartine, “saw that army which a few hours before was his only hope, now returning in broken fragments, and exclaimed, ‘All is lost!’ For a moment he contemplated the disastrous scene, turned pale, stammered, and shed some tears, the first he had ever shed upon a field of battle.”
On marched the English, seized at every step the artillery which had so long poured its iron hail upon them, and driving before them the crowds of dismayed and disordered French. Up the heights on which Napoleon and his army had stood, they now exultingly pressed, and here the two Generals met, with mutual congratulations. Marshal Blucher had well performed his part, though the state of the roads had hindered his arrival until the very close of the battle. In less than an hour he had driven in the whole right wing of the French army, and now reached the very centre of Napoleon’s position, at the same moment when the Duke had penetrated to the same point with his attack in front. After a few moments of hearty rejoicing, the English commander gladly resigned to the Prussian, the remaining duty of a vigorous pursuit. The British troops, after a long day’s work, were physically unable to chase their enemies far. The Prussian General, therefore, to quote their own accounts, assembled his officers, and gave orders to send the last horse and the last man in pursuit of the enemy.”
Well and earnestly was this duty performed. All night long were the wretched French pursued. Nine times did they attempt to halt for rest, and nine times was the Prussian drum heard, and the flight was again to be resumed. A French officer[39]thus describes the scene:—
“Near one of the hedges of Hougoumont, without even a drummer to beat the rappel, we succeeded in rallying 300 men; these were nearly all that remained of our splendid division. Thither came also a band of Generals. Here was Reille,[40]D’Erlon, Bachelor, Foy, andothers. All were gloomy and sorrowful. They said, one to another, ‘Here is all that is left of my corps,—of my division,—of my brigade!—I myself!’
“The enemy’s horse approached, and we were obliged to retreat. The movements of the English cavalry had demoralized our soldiers, who, seeing all regular retreat cut off, strove each man to save himself. Infantry, cavalry, artillery, all jammed together, were pressing along pell-mell. Figure to yourself 40,000 men all struggling along a single causeway. We could not take that way, so we struck across the fields. We were humiliated, we were hopeless; we walked like a troop of mourners.
“We passed through Thuin, and finding a little copse, we gladly sought its shelter. While our horses grazed, we lay down and slept. We rested in the little copse till noon, and sat watching the wrecks of our army defile along the road. It was a soul-harrowing sight!
“We drew near to Beaumont, when suddenly a regiment of horse was seen debouching from a wood on our left. The column that we followed cried out, ‘The Prussians! the Prussians!’ and hurried off in utter disorder.
“I was trying to return to General Foy, when another horde of fugitives burst into Beaumont, swept me into the current of their flight, and hurried me out of the town with them. I reached Landrecy, though I know not how or when.”
Such is the description given by one of the fugitives, and it exactly corresponds with the official report of the Prussian General, Gneisenau, who says, “The French army, pursued without intermission, was absolutely disorganized. The highway presented the appearance of an immense shipwreck; it was covered with an innumerable quantity of cannon, caissons, baggage, arms, and goods of every kind. As soon as the enemy heard the sound of our drums, they fled, while the moonlight favoured the pursuit, for the whole march was a continued chase, whether in the corn-fields or in the houses.”
“At three o’clock Napoleon had despatched a courier to Paris with the news that victory was certain: a few hours afterwards he had no longer an army.”
The French accounts, Gourgaud’s, Napoleon’s, &c., written long after, endeavour to diminish the defeat by representing that within a week as many us 60 or 65,000 men were re-assembled at Laon. Some one attempted to make a representation of this sort in the French Chamber of Peers, on the 24th of June; when Marshal Ney rose in his place, anddeclared all such accounts to be deceptive. “It is a mere illusion to suppose that 60,000 men can be collected. Marshal Grouchy,” said he, “cannot have more than 20,000, or 25,000 at the most.”
Fortunately, however, the question is set at rest by Fleury de Chaboulon, Napoleon’s secretary, who describes very vividly what followed immediately after the battle. He tells us, how, in his flight, on meeting Maret, “the Emperor could not repress his emotion; a large tear, escaping from his eyes, betrayed the efforts of his soul.” Again he says, “The Emperor stopped beyond Rocroi to take some refreshment. We were all in a pitiable state: our eyes swelled with tears, our countenances haggard, our clothes covered with dust or blood.” And, on arriving at Paris, when one of his ministers spoke of the army, Napoleon exclaimed, “I have no longer an army!I have nothing but fugitives!”[41]
It was this absolute destruction of the French army which made Waterloo one of the greatest and most important of all victories. Thus, Jules Maurel, a French historian, says:—
“From a comparison of all the documents, it appears, that Bonaparte was already beaten when the mass of the Prussian army appeared on the field; but the arrival of Bulow had powerfully assisted the British, and the arrival of Blucher changed the defeat intoan unparalleled disaster.”
Lamartine, another Frenchman, adds:—
“This defeat left nothing undecided,—nothing for the future to do. Victory had given judgment: the war began and ended in a single battle.”
But let us return for a moment to the great victor of the day. At a road-side house, near Rossomme, he left Blucher, who gladly undertook the pursuit, and after twelve hours of constant exertion, he turned his charger’s head once more towards Mont St. Jean and Waterloo. Darkness now shrouded a thousand scenes of horror, over which it had been useless to pause. At his quarters the Duke found assembled the survivors of his staff, the representatives of the allied powers, and a few other friends. All sorely needed rest and food, and the meal was ready. On leaving his quarters in the morning, he had desired his domestics to have dinner ready to place on the table “whenever it might be wanted” and his cook excited amusement by the confidence with which he asserted, that “his master had ordered dinner, and would certainly return to eat it.” But the thoughts which would throng into the conqueror’s mind, at that moment, must have been such as few men have ever experienced.
The foremost considerations with the Duke of Wellington always were,his country, and his duty. But besides these there was a personal question, little spoken of by him, but which could not be excluded from his thoughts.
“I go to measure myself with Wellington,” exclaimed Napoleon, when he flung himself into his carriage, only a few days before, to join his army on the Belgian frontier. The Duke spoke not of such matters, but he could not possibly forget that the muse of history was waiting all that day, to knowwhichof the two great names was to take the highest place among the many able commanders of the nineteenth century. The one had defeated, in turn, nearly every general in Europe, except Wellington. The other had triumphed over almost all the Marshals of France, but had not yet confronted Napoleon.
Captain Moyle Sherer thus writes:—
“Upon the night of that memorable battle, the words and emotions of the conqueror will long be remembered by those who sat with him at supper, after the anxious and awful day had closed. The fountain of a great heart lies deep, and the self-government of a calm mind permits no tears. But, this night, Wellington repeatedly leaned back in his chair, and rubbing his hands convulsively, exclaimed, “Thank God! I have met him: Thank God! I have met him.”[42]And, ever as he spoke, the smile that lighted up his eye was dimmed by those few tears that gush warm from a grateful heart.
“His many and deep anxieties; his noble desire to defeat his country’s implacable enemy; his rational doubts of success against so great a general;—these and many other fears and hopes, undisclosed to any one, all were now resolved and dissipated by a result more sudden, full, and glorious than any expectation he could have formed, or any hope he could have admitted. England was placed on the very pinnacle of glory; her foe was prostrate, his legions fugitives, and her general might joyfully look around and say, ‘This work was mine!’”
But after necessary food, and the writing of despatches and letters, came such rest as the excited mind and body could take. The Duke threw himself, unwashed but exhausted, on his bed long after midnight. He had desired Dr. Hume to bring him the report of the surgeons atseven in the morning. The doctor was punctual, but the claims of nature were not satisfied, the Duke’s sleep was still sound. Knowing that, with him, duty was paramount to all other considerations, the doctor at once awakened him. The list was produced, and the doctor began to read; but as name after name came forth—this one as dying, that as dead—the voice failed, and Hume, looking up, perceived the tears rapidly chasing each other down the victor’s blackened cheeks;—he laid down the list and instantly left the apartment.
The British loss was indeed great. Of the Duke’s staff twelve were killed and forty-six wounded. The number of British officers killed and wounded in these three days exceeded 700, and of privates it was more than 10,000, so that about every third man in the British ranks had been struck down in this terrible battle. The loss of Dutch, Hanoverians, &c., had been 7,000; and that of the Prussians exceeded 6,000. As to the French, their loss in killed and wounded never could be ascertained; but it is certain that of 150,000 men who crossed the frontiers, not 50,000 were ever re-assembled under their colours.
The utter loss of his army sent Napoleon back to Paris. But the news of his total defeat arrived along with him. His fame, his “glory,” and his power perished together. The Chambers rose in rebellion against him; and his abdication was demanded. The English and Prussian armies, meanwhile, rapidly advanced; and on their arrival before Paris the city capitulated; the King returned to his palace; and Napoleon gave himself up to the Captain of an English ship of war. On the 15th of June one of the finest armies that he had ever led into the field entered Belgium to take advantage of the Duke of Wellington’s unprepared state;—on the 3rd of July, just fifteen days after,Paris itself capitulated! Such were the vast results of Waterloo.
Napoleon, indeed, had been in some peril, for the Prussian general showed a particular anxiety to get hold of him, in order that he might hang him! The Duke had no fondness for him,—always designating him in his despatches, merely as “Bonaparte;” but the old Prussian field-marshal, remembering the cruel treatment of his country by the French in 1807, felt, and constantly expressed, sentiments of positive hatred. The Duke, however, with that loftiness of aim and of feeling which had forbidden his officers to fire upon Napoleon during the action, firmly resisted Blucher’s desires on this point. General Muffling, the Prussian commissioner, tells us, that the Duke said to him, “I wish my friend and colleague to see this matter in the light I do: such an actwould give our names to history stained with a crime; and posterity would say of us, “They were not worthy to be his conquerors; the more so, as such a deed would be useless, and can have no object.”
In the same tone the Duke wrote to Sir Charles Stuart, telling him, “I said, that as a private friend, I advised him to have nothing to do with so foul a transaction; that he and I had acted too distinguished parts in these transactions to become executioners; and that I was determined that if the Sovereign put him to death, they should appoint an executioner,which should not be me.”
In a similar spirit, the Duke succeeded in preventing the Prussians from executing other plans of vengeance, such us the blowing up the bridge of Jena, pulling down the column of Austerlitz, and the like. In fact, had the old marshal been alone in these transactions, he would gladly have indulged his troops with the plunder of Paris.
Indeed, such an utter overthrow as France had received, and that in the course of a few days, was hardly to be paralleled in history. Sufficient stress has seldom been laid upon that wonderful working of the Divine Providence by which this great contest, expected by all men to be so long, so desperate, and so sanguinary, was suddenly brought to a close on the fourth day after its commencement. All the great powers of Europe had agreed upon a united effort. They had pledged their faith to one another to place 600,000 men on the soil of France in July, 1815.
All at once, in the middle of June, while the bulk of these armies were moving up from Poland, Bohemia, Hungary, and other distant lands, they hear that the war is begun. And in four days after, they hear that it isfinished! Such is not the ordinary course of human history.
All, however, is easily accounted for. Napoleon saw in England the most resolute, consistent, and indomitable of his foes, and in England’s Great General, the only Captain whom he could hold in no light esteem. He said, and not unwisely, “If the Anglo-Belgian army had been destroyed at Waterloo, what service could the Allies derive from the number of armies which were preparing to cross the Rhine, the Alps, and the Pyrenees?”[43]
And acting upon this sound view of the case, and knowing that one or two more weeks would elapse before Wellington could have his veteran battalions around him, he resolved to throw himself like an avalanche upon the Duke’s army in its unreadiness; in the hope that a campaignbeginning with a defeat of this his chief opponent would alarm England, terrify the other powers, and so make peace, with his continued retention of the throne of France, attainable.
This plan was a sagacious as well as a bold one. It grappled at once with the grand difficulty of the case. But the difficulty, when grappled with, overmastered him. Still, the peculiar characteristics of this momentous struggle deserves to be carefully remarked. A judicious writer has well observed, that:—
“Waterloo seemed to bear the features of a grand, immediate interposition of Providence. Had human judgments been consulted, they would have drawn a different plan. The Prussians would have joined the English and have swept the enemy before them; or, the British would have been in force enough to have beaten the French long before the set of sun, &c., &c. But if the French had suffered a common defeat, with consummate generals at their head they would have rallied; or, retiring in force, would have called in all available aids, and have renewed the struggle. So the conflict held on till the last moment, when they could neither escape nor conquer. If they had retreated an hour before nightfall they might have been saved; if they could have fought an hour after it, darkness would have covered them. But the crash came on the very edge of darkness. The Prussians came up unfatigued by battle and fresh for pursuit. The night was to be a night of slaughter. ‘Thou, moon, in the valley of Ajalon.’”
Such was one of the grand events of modern history,—the victory which gave all Europe peace for forty years. Ascribing, as we most unreservedly do, the whole ordering of this momentous struggle to an overruling Providence, it still seems a duty to add a few words on the respective merits, or demerits, connected with this tremendous contest, of the two great commanders, who for the first and last time met at Waterloo. Let us first glance at the great deeds achieved, and the great mistakes committed, by Napoleon in the course of these three eventful days.
He carried his magnificent army over the frontier, and threw it upon the allied armies in a manner exhibiting the most consummate skill. Twenty years spent in the practice of war had given him an expertness in the handling of large bodies of troops which few generals have ever possessed. He showed also on the 16th that he was a better general than Blucher, and that his army was a better army than that of the Prussians. But here our commendation must close; for a variety offaults and errors have been pointed out by military critics, of which we shall only mention a few of the chief. Napoleon was guilty of two great miscalculations, and of three important practical mistakes. These were:—
1. He rashly and erroneously assumed that his appearance in Belgium at the head of a fine army would force his opponents, Wellington and Blucher, out of mere awe and terror, to fall back, to evacuate the country, and so to give him a triumph at the opening of the campaign. In his ixth Book he seriously argues that theyoughtto have done so: but this was a strange miscalculation. When had either Wellington or Blucher showed any alacrity in running away? And what right had he to assume that a force amounting, when united, to nearly 200,000 men, would act as if terror-stricken, on the mere appearance of a French army of only 150,000? Yet he constantly tells us that they ought to have retreated, and that his calculations always rested on the presumption that they certainly would retreat.
2. In like manner was he disappointed when he sent Grouchy with 35,000 or 40,000 men, to occupy and keep employed the whole Prussian army. Again did he absurdly overlook the real character of Blucher, who was not one to be easily duped. Napoleon might speculate, if he pleased, on the chance of keeping Blucher at Wavre while he was overpowering and crushing Wellington at Waterloo; but Blucher was equally at liberty to despise all such devices, and to leave Napoleon’s lieutenant in order to seek for Napoleon himself. This was what actually took place, and hence we see that again Napoleon is exposed to the imputation of having fatally miscalculated.
3. But as in his plans there were these two errors, so in actual execution we meet with three egregious faults. Having found Wellington with his weak army apart from Blucher, why did he allow several hours to elapse before he seized the opportunity for which he had been hoping? He speaks of the softened state of the ground after several hours’ rain. But, as we have seen, when Grouchy advances the same excuse for inaction at Wavre, he styles it “ridiculous!” and who can say that the movements which he actually made at eleven o’clock,could nothave been made at ten, or even at nine o’clock? Meanwhile, although Napoleon waswaiting, the Prussians weremarching. They found the taskdifficult, while he deemed itimpossible. In earlier days he would have replied that “there was no such word in his vocabulary.”
4. Again, to what strange hallucination was it owing, that, all through the day, attacks which might have been made simultaneously were onlydischarged in succession? Thus, at three or four o’clock, he sorely tried the nerve and pluck of the English infantry by pouring in upon them “twelve thousand select horse.” It took them three hours to kill or drive away these formidable intruders. Andthen, when the French cavalry had been destroyed, Napoleon next attacked the English line with six or eight thousand of his Imperial Guard. But what prevented his moving this formidable column up the heights of Mont St. Jean, while the cuirassiers were already in possession of the plateau? They had seized or silenced the English artillery; they had compelled the infantry to throw themselves into squares. If a mass of the finest infantry in France had then been thrown upon the British centre, how fearful would have been the trial? But Napoleon still delayed. He sent on his cavalry, unsupported by any infantry; and then, when the cavalry had been “massacred,” he sent on a column of infantry, unsupported by any cavalry. Will the greatest admirer of his genius hesitate to admit that his practical generalship, his excellence as a leader in battle, was not conspicuous at Waterloo? Yet, wherefore was he less vigorous, less audacious at Waterloo, than at Austerlitz or Jena? He was still in the very prime of life. Must we suppose that the toils and troubles and disappointments of 1812–1814 had prematurely worn out his mind; and that he was already, at only forty-six years of age, mentally decrepit?
5. The most singular exhibition of defect in generalship, however, and of blindness to that defect, is seen in this,—that he could not lose a battle without utterly losing his army also!
The general who can bear a defeat well, and can carry off his army with only a moderate loss, is entitled to take a high rank amongst commanders. He who cannot do this is only a fair-weather general.
The Prussian commander was attacked on the 16th before his army was all assembled. He placed his men badly,—so badly that Wellington predicted their certain defeat. Yet, when that defeat fell upon him, he rallied his army at a distance of a quarter of a league, and was ready and eager to fight another battle on the second day after. It was this unconquerability which made Blucher one of the most formidable antagonists of his time.
But let us turn to Napoleon. He invites us to do this, by the pertinacity with which he assails Wellington on this very point. Again and again he brings the charge vehemently against him, that at Waterloo hehad made no provision for a retreat. Thus, in Book ix, p. 124, he says:—
“He had in his rear the defiles of the forest of Soignes, so that, if beaten, retreat was impossible.”
And again, at p. 158—
“The enemy must have seen with affright how many difficulties the field of battle he had chosen was about to throw in the way of his retreat.”
And again, at p. 207—
“The position of Mont St. Jean was ill-chosen. The first requisite of a field of battle, is, to have no defiles in its rear. The injudicious choice of his field of battle, rendered all retreat impossible.”
Thus Napoleon challenges our criticism on this very point. All military authorities are agreed that he was wrong in his censure on Wellington. It is conceded even by Frenchmen like Lamartine, that the forest of Soignes, instead of being a source of peril, was an element of safety. But he who assails his rival on this especial point, of a provision for retreat, must expect to be asked, himself, “How his own retreat was conducted?”
There is no parallel to its disastrous character. An army of nearly 90,000 fine soldiers, not 40,000 of which could have been killed or wounded, was nothing the next day but a vast horde of fugitives. We notice, with contemptuous pity, how the Spanish generals, in 1809, managed to incur such a disgraceful defeat at Ocana, that out of 50,000 men, not 1,000 kept the field a week after. But here was one of the finest armies that ever France sent forth, commanded too, by the conqueror, of Europe; and even the very day after the battle, not a single thousand men were to be found in the field! All were utterly scattered and broken up. And yet their general has the assurance, in criticising the general who has beaten him, to censure him, especially, because “he had taken no precautions to secure his retreat!”
But now of his great rival and conqueror:—The Duke of Wellington had not the same opportunity for displaying his skill and talent in 1815, which he had enjoyed in 1813. His proposed campaign was to open on the 1st of July, and it had been the favourite object of Napoleon to take the initiative, to open the campaign before the British troops from America had arrived, and thus to lead the campaign himself without waiting for the Duke to open it. Hence, during these three days, Napoleon was always advancing, attacking, while Wellington, with hisweak army was making the best defence he could. And, accordingly, at Waterloo, the Duke knowing the disparity of his force, could only hope to “keep his ground” till the Prussians should arrive. He was in the position of a small man attacked by a giant. He could only parry his blows and allow the assailant to exhaust his strength, in the hope that, at last, by a well-aimed thrust he might lay his enemy prostrate. For nine long hours, therefore, the Duke’s whole business was to meet and repel the powerful attacks of Napoleon; and he had to do this with, according to Napoleon’s own admission, “less than 40,000 good troops.” In fact, his infantry, British and of the German Legion, were only 18,485, his British and German Legion cavalry 7,834, while Napoleon had very nearly 70,000 excellent infantry, and more than 18,000 splendid cavalry. Yet for these nine hours did the Duke meet and repel all his assaults. This sort of soldiership is less showy than daring manœuvres, but it is equally valuable; and in the present instance, when the materials the Duke had to work with are considered, the merit of it is not at all inferior. One of the best generals commanding under the Duke, when acknowledging the thanks of the House of Commons, said, “An army hastily drawn together, composed of the troops of various nations, and amongst which were counted several brigades of inexperienced militia, was the force which the Duke had to oppose to one of the most formidable and best-appointed armies that France ever produced. No other man living could have rendered the service which he performed, with an army so composed.”
The chief point, however, in the character of a great general is the possession of that “eagle eye” which enables him, amid all the din and turmoil of a horrible contest, to perceive exactly the right moment for vigorous action, and the right place at which to aim an attack. It was this, especially, which gave the Duke his first signal victory over the French at Salamanca; and it was this which turned the repulse of the French at Waterloo into a disastrous defeat.
Narrative-writers, collecting, long after, the best available testimony from all quarters, and carefully comparing and sifting the whole, are able to arrive at probable conclusions as to the order and date of the leading events. But this sort of calm investigation is wholly different from the horrible din, the ceaseless clamour, and the almost impervious smoke which obscures everything on the battle-field. We, for instance, comparing the accounts of the French, the Prussians, and the Austrians, are able to arrive at the conclusion, with absolute certainty that GeneralBulow’s corps first showed itself on the right of the French line about half-past four, and began to take part in the engagement about half-past five. But it is quite certain that the Duke, fully occupied just then with the French cavalry, who were riding round his squares, knew nothing of the actual arrival of the long-expected succour until long after. It was nearly two hours after this, when, by carefully examining every part of the left of his line, the Duke was able to perceive the rising of smoke over Planchenoit. This was not until seven o’clock; but it assured him of this, that some part of the promised Prussian support had arrived, and that more must be coming up. And this was sufficient to give him new hopes of ultimate success, though he could be certain, as yet, of very little more than that some aid was at hand.
It was shortly after this, and about the time of the movement of the Imperial Guard, when news reached him from Marshal Blucher himself that he was then actually joining the extreme left of the British line. It was this support which enabled the British light cavalry to move from the left of the line, and to take a position nearer the centre. And hence, when the English and the French Guards had tried each other’s mettle, and the latter had retired in disorder, the Duke saw at one comprehensive glance the arrival of that moment for which he had been longing,—the defeat and confusion of Napoleon’s last reserve; the presence of the long-promised Prussian succours, at that last moment of daylight, which just allowed time for one daring movement and no more. And the decision and boldness with which the Duke seized this golden opportunity are among the finest traits in the whole history of great military deeds. A brief hesitation, if only of a quarter of an hour, would have allowed the French, although beaten, to retire at leisure. A renewal of the contest might have followed after the lapse of a couple of days, but how different would have been the whole history of such a campaign from that of Waterloo! It was this clear perception of the right moment for an attack, and the fearlessness with which fewer than 30,000 men were led forward to assault at least twice their numbers, commanded by Napoleon, Soult, and Ney,—it was this wonderful union of prudence, decision, and the highest kind of valour, which made the Duke of Wellington the first of all the generals of his day.
And, united with those lofty endowments, there was the patient, enduring, untiring discharge of every duty of a commander. In this, as in every other of his battles, the Duke was constantly wherever his presence was needed. There could not be a pressure felt at any portionof the line,—there could not be an anxious moment when even the bravest might look around him and begin to think of the possibility of an overthrow, but presently the well-known chestnut-horse would be seen, and the whisper would run through the ranks, “Here’s the Duke! stand fast!” This might seem to some to be merely a matter of course; but it is the being always in the right place at the right time; it is the union of the commonest duties with the highest which fills up the outline of a great character, and leaves to posterity not only a brilliant name, but a really bright example.”[44]
WAWZ, BATTLE OF.—Fought, March 31st, 1831, between the Poles and the Russians. After two days of hard labour in fighting, the Poles carried the Russian works, who were obliged to retreat, with the loss of 12,000 men and 2000 prisoners. This triumph of the Poles was shortly after followed by defeat and massacre.
WHITE PLAINS, BATTLE OF.—Between the revolted American Provinces and the British, under Sir William Howe. Fought, November 30th, 1776. This was the most serious of the early battles of that unfortunate war, and terminated in the defeat of the Americans, who suffered considerable loss in killed, wounded, and prisoners.
WIGAN, BATTLE OF.—In the civil war of England, fought between the King’s troops and the Parliamentary forces. The former were defeated, 1643. Another battle, between the same parties, was fought here, 1651.
WITEPSK, BATTLE OF.—Between the French and Russians. The former commanded by Marshal Victor, and the latter by General Wittgenstein. The French were defeated, after a desperate engagement, having lost 3000 men. Fought, November 14th, 1812.
WORCESTER, BATTLE OF.—In the civil war fought between the Royalist army and the forces of the Parliament, the latter commanded by Cromwell, a large body of Scots having marched into England to reinstate Charles II, Cromwell signally defeated them, and it afforded to him what he called hiscrowning mercy; more than 2000 of the Royalists were slain, and of 8000 prisoners, nearly all were sold as slaves to the American Colonies. Fought, September 3rd, 1651. The following is an account of the flight of the young King, after the disastrous day of battle:—
“Charles, in his progress towards Bristol, was pursued by a party of the enemy to the new ferry over the Severn. He rode through Shire Newton, and crossed the Severn at Chiswell Pit, on the Gloucestershire side. The boat had scarcely returned, before a body of the republicans, amounting to 60 men, followed him to the Black Rock, and threatening them with instant death if they refused, compelled the ferrymen to take them across. The boatmen were royalists, and left them on a reef called English Stones, which is separated from the Gloucestershire side by a lake, fordable at low water; but the tide, which had just turned, flowed in with great rapidity, and they were all drowned in attempting to cross. Cromwell, when informed of this disaster, abolished the ferry, and it was not renewed until the year 1748. The renewal occasioned a law-suit between the family of St. Pierre and the guardians of the Duke of Beaufort. In the course of the suit, documents were produced which tended to confirm this anecdote.”
WRECKS.—The most remarkable shipwrecks of British men of war or transports, or of ships, connected with military events, are the following which have happened within the last 85 years:
A tremendous storm occurred in October, 1780, in the West Indies, and the following vessels of war were all lost.
Thunderer, of 74 guns;Stirling Castle, of 64 guns;Phœnix, of 44 guns;La Blanche, of 42 guns;Laurel, of 28 guns;Andromeda, of 28 guns;Deal Castle, of 24 guns;Scarborough, of 20 guns;Barbadoes, of 14 guns;Cameleon, of 14 guns;Endeavour, of 14 guns; and theVictor, of 10 guns.
The Royal George—June 28th, 1782,—1000 persons and brave Admiral Kenpenfeldt perished by the sinking, or rather oversetting of this 100gun man-of-war. The guns on one side all rolled over to the other, and with the extra weight immediately overset the ship riding at anchor at Spithead.
Ramilies, of 74 guns, off Newfoundland, September 21st, 1782. 100 souls perished.
Pandora Frigate, on a reef of rocks, August 28th, 1791. 100 souls perished.
Droits de l’Homme—A British ship of the line, and theAmazon, a frigate, lost off Hodierne Bay. Many hundreds perished, January 14th, 1797.
Nassau, of 64 guns, October 25th, 1799. 100 of the crew and marines perished.
Queen, transport on Trefusis Point, January 14th, 1800. 369 souls lost.
Queen Charlotte, of 110 guns, lost March 17th, 1800. This was the flag ship of Lord Keith, commanding in the Mediterranean Sea, burnt by accidental fire off the harbor of Leghorn. More than 700 perished. The ship took fire just before day break. It was occasioned by a match kept burning for the purpose of firing salutes, having communicated itself to some hay, &c., and so rapidly did the fire rage, that nothing could save the noble vessel. She burned rapidly to the water’s edge, and then blew up.
Invincible, of 74 guns, March 20th, 1801. 400 souls perished.
Apollo, frigate, lost April 2nd, 1804, in a heavy gale off Capo Mondego. 61 of her crew and her commander, perished, and with her 40 sail of the outward-bound West India fleet, lost.
Venerable, of 74 guns, Nov. 24th, 1804. Crew saved.
Tartarus, of 74 guns, December 20th, 1804. Crew saved.
Æneas, transport, off Newfoundland, lost October 23rd, 1805. 340 perished.
Aurora, transport, lost on the Godwin Sands, December 21st, 1805. 300 perished.
Athenienne, of 64 guns lost off Sardinia, October 20th, 1806. 347 perished.
Ajax—Lost by fire off the Island of Tenedos, February 14th, 1807. 300 perished.
Boreas, man-of-war, lost upon the Hannois Rock in the Channel, November 28th, 1807.
Anson, frigate, lost near Land’s End, December 29th, 1807. 125 persons drowned.
Magicienne, frigate, August 16th, 1810. She ran aground at the Mauritius, and was abandoned and burnt by her crew.
Satellite, sloop-of-war of 16 guns, December 14th, 1810. Upset and all on board perished.
Minotam, of 74 guns, wrecked on the Haak Bank, December 27th, 1810. Of 600 persons on board, about 480 were drowned.
Amethyst, frigate of 36 guns, lost in the Sound, February 15th, 1811.
Barham, of 74 guns. Foundered July 29th, 1811, on the coast of Corsica.
Saldanha, frigate, lost on the Irish coast, December, 1811. 300 souls perished.
St. George, of 98 guns, and theDefence, of 74 guns, stranded on the coast of Jutland, and all souls perished, except 16 seamen, December 24th, 1811.
Seahorse, transport, near Tramore Bay, January 30th, 1816. 365 souls, chiefly soldiers of the 59th Regiment, and most of the crew, lost.
Lord Melville, andBoadicea, two transports lost near Kinsale, Ireland, when several hundred of the 82nd Regiment, and almost all the crew perished, January 31st, 1816.
Harpooner, transport, off Newfoundland, November 10th, 1816. 100 persons drowned.
Kent, shattered by a dreadful storm, February 28th 1825. Afterwardsshe caught fire; but the passengers and crew were providentially saved by theCambria. There were on board 301 officers and men of the 31st regiment, 66 women, 45 children, and 139 seamen.
“TheKent,Indiaman, was making her way in the Bay of Biscay on the morning of the 1st of March, 1825, across the heavy swell common in that stormy entrance to the Atlantic, when her progress was arrested by a fatal accident. An officer, who was sent into the hold to see whether the rolling of the vessel had disturbed the stowage, perceiving that a cask of spirits had burst from its lashings, gave the lamp he had in his hand to a seaman to hold, while he should replace the cask. Unfortunately, in the continued rolling of the vessel, the man let the lamp fall near the spirits, to which it set fire in a moment. The flames spread; attempts were made to smother them by wet blankets and hammocks, but all was in vain, and they soon assumed an aspect so tremendous, as to show that it would be impossible to subdue them.
At this moment of despair, the man at the mast-head exclaimed that a sail was in sight; guns were fired, and a signal of distress hoisted. The gale, however, was so heavy, that it was for some time doubtful whether the strange vessel perceived the signals, or was likely to turn aside from her course; but this painful suspense was soon removed by her approach. The boats of theKentwere now got out and placed, not alongside, on account of the flames and the danger of staving the boats, but a-head and a-stern. In the latter many got out from the cabin-windows, but the chief part were let down from the bowsprit into the boat a-head, and the men sliding down by a rope, while the soldiers’ wives were lowered into the boat slung three together.
The fire had burst out about ten o’clock, and about twelve the signal of distress had been perceived by the strange sail, which proved to be theCambria, outward-bound to Mexico, with mining workmen and machinery, shipped by the Anglo-Mexican company. It was two o’clock when theCambriareceived the first boat-load of passengers, consisting of ladies and children, half clothed, and pale with fright and fatigue. The whole afternoon was passed in exertions on board the one vessel in sending off the sufferers, and in the other in receiving them. TheCambriahad amongst her passengers several stout workmen, who took their station at the ship’s side, and were indefatigable in hoisting the poor sufferers on board; so that, out of 642 persons in theKent, no less than 547 were safe in theCambriabefore midnight. The remainder (95 in number) were lost, chiefly in getting out and in of the boats, the swell of the sea beingvery great all the time. The captain of theKentwas the last man to leave her. She blew up at a few minutes before two o’clock on Wednesday morning.
It may naturally be asked how the vessel could keep so long together amid so destructive a conflagration? She could not have kept together two hours, had not the officers, to avoid one danger, encountered another by opening the ports and letting in the water, when she shipped such heavy seas as to become water-logged, which of course prevented her burning downwards.
TheCambria, a vessel of little more than 200 tons, was previously sufficiently filled, having goods in her hold, and about 50 persons in passengers and ship’s company. How great then must have been the pressure and confusion caused by the influx which carried the total on board to more than 600! The progress of the fire in theKenthad been so rapid, as to prevent the sufferers from saving any clothes, except what was on their persons, and both officers and soldiers were thus ill prepared to encounter the wet and cold of the deck. The cabin and the ’tween decks (the space for the steerage passengers) were thus crowded beyond measure, and most fortunate it was that the wind continued favourable for the return of theCambriato an English port. She reached Falmouth in 48 hours after quitting the wreck, and landed her unfortunate inmates on the 4th of March.”
Lord William Bentinck, lost off Bombay; 58 recruits, 20 officers, and seven passengers perished. This lamentable occurrence happened June 17th, 1840.
Abercrombie Robinson, andWaterloo, transports, in Table Bay, Cape of Good Hope; of 330 persons on board the last named vessel, 189, principally convicts, were drowned, August 28th, 1842.
H.M.S. Fantome, of 16 guns, lost off Montevideo, June 25th, 1843.
The troop shipAlbertfrom Halifax with the 64th Regiment on board which was miraculously saved July 13th, 1843.
H.M. Frigate Wilberforce, lost on the coast of Africa, February 2nd, 1844.
Birkenhead, troopship, from Queenstown to the Cape of Good Hope, with detachments of several regiments on board. She struck on a pointed rock off Simon’s Bay, and 454 of the crew and soldiers were drowned; 184 only were saved by the ship’s boat.
TheTrent, and a great number of other ships of all capacity, wrecked off the Crimea during the war. A tremendous tornado swept the BlackSea and literally dashed many of the brave ships of England and France to pieces.
WURTZCHEN, BATTLE OF.—One of the most bloody and fiercely contested battles of the campaign of 1813. Fought between the allied Russian and Prussian armies, and the French, commanded by Napoleon himself. The carnage was dreadful on each side, but the Allies retreated from the field. Fought, May 21st, 1813.