That night was full of their confused but unmolested retreat. With the early morning of the Saturday Bulow’s 32,000 fell back along a line parallel to the general retirement, and all that day they were making their way by the cross-country route through Welhain and Corroy to Dion Le Mont.
This task was accomplished through pouring rain, by unpaved lanes and through intolerable mud, over a distance of close on seventeen miles for the hardest pushed of the troops, and not less than thirteen for those whom the accident of position had most spared.
The greater part of the Fourth Corps had spent the first night in the open; all of it had spent the second night upon the drenched ground. Upon thethirdday, the Sunday of Waterloo, this force, though it lies furthest from the field of Waterloo of all the Prussian forces, is picked out to march first to the aid of Wellington, because it as yet has had no fighting and is supposed to be “fresh.” On the daybreak, therefore,after bivouacking in that dreadful weather, Bulow’s force is again upon the move. It does not get through Wavre until something like eight o’clock, and the abominable conditions of the march may be guessed from the fact that its centre did not reach St Lambert until one o’clock, nor did the last brigade pass through that spot until three o’clock. Down the steep ravine of the Lasne and up on the westward side of it was so hard a business that, as we have seen, the brigades did not begin to debouch from the woods at the summit until after four o’clock. It was not until after five o’clock that the last brigade, the 14th, had come up in line with the rest upon the field of Waterloo, having moved, under such abominable conditions of slow, drenched marching, another fifteen miles.
In about forty-eight hours, therefore, this magnificent piece of work had been accomplished. It was a total movement of over fifty miles for the average of the corps—certainly more than sixty for those who had marched furthest—broken only by two short nights, and those nights spent in the open, one under drenching rain. The whole thing was accomplished without appreciable loss of men, guns, or baggage, and at the end of it these men put up afight which was the chief factor in deciding Waterloo.
Such was the supreme effort of the Fourth Prussian Army Corps which decided Waterloo.
There are not many examples of endurance so tenacious and organisation so excellent in the moving so large a body under such conditions in the whole history of war.
When the Fourth Prussian Corps debouched from the Wood of Fischermont and began its two-mile approach towards his flank, Napoleon, who had already had it watched by a body of cavalry, ordered Lobau with the Sixth French Army Corps, or rather with what he had kept with him of the Sixth Army Corps, to go forward and check it.
It could only be a question of delay. Lobau had but 10,000 against the 30,000 which Bulow could ultimately bring against him when all his brigades had come up; but delay was the essential of the moment to Napoleon. To ward off the advancing Prussian pressure just so long as would permit him to carry the Mont St Jean was his most desperate need. Lobau met theenemy, three to two, in the hollow of Plancenoit,[24]was turned by such superior numbers, and driven from the village.
All this while, during the Prussian success which brought that enemy’s reinforcement nearer and nearer to the rear of the French army and to the Emperor’s own standpoint, the wasted though magnificent action of the French cavalry was continuing against Wellington’s right centre, west of the Brussels road. Kellerman had charged for the third time; the plateau was occupied, the British guns abandoned, the squares formed. For the third time that furious seething of horse against foot was seen from the distant height of the Belle Alliance. For the third time the sight carried with it a deceptive appearance of victory. For the third time the cavalry charge broke back again, spent, into the valley below. Ney, wild as he had been wild at Quatre Bras, failing in judgment as he had failed then, shouted for the last reserve of horse, and forgot to call for that 6000 untouched infantry, the bulk of Reille’s Second Corps, which watched from the height of the French ridge the futile efforts of their mounted comrades.
Folly as it was to have charged unbroken infantry with horse alone, the charges had been so repeated and so tenacious that,immediatelysupported by infantry, they might have succeeded. If those 6000 men of Reille’s, the mass of the Second Army Corps, which stood to arms unused upon the ridge to the west of the Brussels road, had been ordered to follow hard upon the last cavalry charge, Napoleon might yet have snatched victory from such a desperate double strain as no general yet in military history has escaped. He might conceivably have broken Wellington’s line before that gathering flood of Prussians to the right and behind him should have completed his destruction.
But the moment was missed. Reille’s infantry was not ordered forward until the defending line had had ample time to prepare its defence; until the English gunners were back again at their pieces, and the English squares once more deployed and holding the whole line of their height.
It is easy to note such errors as we measure hours and distances upon a map. It is a wonderment to some that such capital errors appear at all in the history of armies. Those who have experience of active service will tell us what the intoxicationof the cavalry charges meant, of what blood Ney’s brain was full, and why that order for the infantry came too late. Of the 6000 infantry which attempted so belated a charge, a quarter was broken before the British line was reached, and that assault, in its turn, failed.
At this point in the battle, somewhat after six o’clock, two successes on the part of the French gave them an opportunity for their last disastrous effort, and introduced the close of the tragedy.
The first was the capture of La Haye Sainte, the second was the recapture of Plancenoit.
La Haye Sainte, standing still untaken before the very front of Wellington’s line, must be captured if yet a further effort was to be attempted by Napoleon. Major Baring had held it with his small body of Germans all day long. Twice had he thrust back a general assault, and throughout more than five hours he had resisted partial and equally unsuccessful attacks. Now Ney, ordered to carry it at whatever cost, brought up against it a division, and more than a division. The French climbed upon their heaped dead, broke the doors, shot from the walls, and, at the end of the butchery, Baring with forty-two men—all that wasleft him out of nine companies—cut his way back through to the main line, and the farm was taken. Hougomont, on the left, round which so meaningless a struggle had raged all day long, was never wholly cleared of its defenders, but the main body of it was in flames, and with the capture of La Haye Sainte the whole front was free for a final attack at the moment which Napoleon should decide.
Meanwhile, at Plancenoit, further French reinforcements had recaptured the village and again lost it. The Sixth Corps had given way before the Prussian advance, as we have seen. The next French reinforcements, though they had at first thrust the Prussians back, in turn gave way as the last units of the enemy arrived, and the Prussian batteries were dropping shot right on to the fields which bordered the Brussels road.
Napoleon took eleven battalions of the Guard (the Imperial Guard was his reserve, and had not yet come into action[25]) and drew them up upon his flank to defend the Brussels road; with two more battalions he reinforced the wavering troops inPlancenoit. They cleared the enemy out of the village with the bayonet, and for the moment checked that pressure upon the flank and rear which could not but ultimately return.
It was somewhat past seven by the time all this was accomplished. Napoleon surveyed a field over which it was still just possible (in his judgment at least) to strike a blow that might save him. He saw, far upon the left, Hougomont in flames; in the centre, La Haye Sainte captured; on the right, the skirmishers advancing upon the slope before the English line; his eastern flank for the moment free of the Prussians, who had retired before the sudden charge of the Guard. He heard far off a cannonade which might be that of Grouchy.
But even as he looked upon his opportunity he saw one further thing that goaded him to an immediate hazard. Upon the north-eastern corner of his strained and bent-back line of battle, against the far, perilous, exposed angle of it, he saw new, quite unexpected hordes of men advancing. It was Ziethen debouching with the head of his First Prussian Army Corps at this latest hour—and Napoleon saw those most distant of his troops ready to yield to the new torrent.
The sun, now within an hour of setting, had shone out again. Its light came level down the shallow valley, but all that hollow was so filled with the smoke of recent discharges that the last stroke which Napoleon was now preparing was in part hidden from the Allies upon the hill. That final stake, the only venture left, was to be use of his last reserve and the charge of the Guard.
No combat in history, perhaps, had seen a situation so desperate maintained without the order for retreat. Wellington’s front, which the French were attacking, was still held unbroken; upon the French flank and rear, though the Fourth Prussian Army Corps were for the moment held, they must inevitably return; more remained to come: they were in the act of pressing upon the only line open to the French for retreat, and now here came Ziethen with his new masses upon the top of all.
If, at this hour, just after seven, upon that fatal day, retreat had been possible or advisable to Napoleon, every rule of military art demanded it. He was now quite outnumbered; his exhausted troops were strained up to and beyond the breaking point. To carry such strains too far means in all things, not only in war, an irretrievable catastrophe.
But retreat was hardly possible as a military action; it was impossible as a political one.
Napoleon could hardly retreat at that hour, although he was already defeated, because the fury and the exhaustion of the combat, its increasing confusion, and the increasing dispersion of its units, made any rapid concentration and organisation for the purposes of a sudden retirement hazardous in the extreme. The doomed body, held closer and closer upon its right flank, menaced more and more on its right rear, now suddenly threatened on its exposed salient angle, would fight on.
Though Napoleon had withdrawn from the combat an hour before, when Bülow’s 30,000 had struck at his right flank and made his destruction certain; though he had then, while yet he could, organised a retirement, abandoned the furious struggle for La Haye Sainte before it was successful, and covered with his best troops an immediate retreat, that retreat would not have availed his cause.
The appearance of the Prussians on his right proved glaringly the nature of his doom. Grouchy—a quarter of his forces—was cut off from him altogether. The enemy, whom he believed to be beyondGrouchy, and pursued by Grouchy, had appeared, upon the contrary, between Grouchy and himself. Now Ziethen too was here.
Did Napoleon retire, he would retire before forces half as large again as his own, and destined to grow to double his own within a few hours. His retirement would leave Grouchy to certain disaster.
Politically, retreat was still more hopeless. He himself would re-enter France defeated, with, at the most, half the strength that had crossed the frontier three days before. He would so re-enter France—the wealthier classes of which watched his power, nearly all of them with jealousy, most with active hate—surrounded by general officers not ten of whom, perhaps, he could sincerely trust, and by a whole society which supported him only upon the doubtful condition of victory.
Such a retirement was ruin. It was more impossible morally even than it was impossible physically, under the conditions of the field. Therefore it was that, under conditions so desperate, with his battle lost if ever battle was, the Emperor yet attempted one ultimate throw, and in this half-hour before the sunset sent forward the Guard.
In those solemn moments, wherein theImperial Guard formed for their descent into that hollow whose further slope was to see their last feat of arms, Ziethen, with the First Prussian Corps, pressed on into the far corner the field of battle. At the far end of the long ridge of the Mont St Jean, more than a mile away, this last great body and newest reinforcement of the Emperor’s foes had emerged from the walls and thickets of Smohain and, new to the fighting, was already pushing in the weary French line that had stood the carnage of six hours. It was not enough that the Fourth Prussian Corps should have determined the day already with its 30,000 come up from the east against him; now the foremost battalions of the First coming up from the north were appearing to clinch the matter altogether.
It was under such conditions of irretrievable disaster that Napoleon played for miracle, and himself riding slowly down the valley at the head of his comrades and veterans, gave them over to Ney for the final attack against Wellington’s line which still held the opposing slope.
It was then, at the moment when Ziethen and the men of the First Prussian Army Corps began to press upon the north-eastern angle of the fight, and were readyto determine it altogether, that the Guard began its ponderous thrust up between Hougomont and La Haye Sainte, to the west of the Brussels road. Up that fatal hill, which had seen the four great cavalry charges, and more recently the breaking of the Second Corps, the tall men, taller for the bearskins and the shouldered musket, the inheritors of twenty-two victorious and now immortal years, leant forward, advancing. To the hanging smoke of the cannon in the vale was added the rising mist of evening; and when the furious cannonade which was to support their attack had ceased with their approach to the enemy’s line, a sort of silence fell upon the spectators of that great event.
The event was brief.
It was preceded by a strange sight: a single horseman galloped unharmed from the French to the English line (a captain); he announced to the enemy the approaching movement of the Guard. He was a hater of the flag and of the Revolution, and of its soldier: he was for the old Kings.
There was no need for this dramatic aid. The lull in the action, Napoleon’s necessity for a last stroke, possibly through the mist and smoke the actual movement of the Guard, were apparent. The infantry whomWellington had retired behind the ridge during the worst of the artillery preparation was now set forward again. It was the strongest and the most trusted of his troops whom Wellington posted to receive the shock—Adams’ brigade and the brigade of Guards. Three batteries of the reserve were brought forward, with orders not to reply to the French cannon, but to fire at the advancing columns of the charge.
As the Guard went upward, the whole French front to the right moved forward and supported the attack. But upon the left, the Second Army Corps, Reille’s recently broken 6000, could not yet move. They came far behind and to the west of the Brussels road; the Guard went up the slope alone.
At two hundred yards from the English line the grape began to mow through them. They closed up after each discharge. Their advance continued unchecked.
Of the four columns,[26]that nearest to the Brussels road reached, touched, and broke the line of the defenders. Its strength was one battalion, yet it took the two English batteries, and, in charging Halkett’s brigade, threw the 30th and the 73rd intoconfusion. It might have been imagined for one moment that the line had here been pierced, but this first and greatest chance of success was defeated, and with it all chances, for it is the head of a charge that tells.
The reader will have seen upon the map, far off to the west or left, at Braine l’Alleud, a body of reserve, Belgian, which Wellington had put so far off in the mistaken notion that the French would try to turn him in that direction. This force of 3000 men with sixteen guns Wellington had recalled in the last phases of the battle. It was their action, and especially that of their artillery, that broke this first success of the Guard. The Netherlanders charged with the bayonet to drive home the effect of their cannon, and the westernmost column of the French attack was ruined.
As the four columns were not all abreast, but the head of the first a little more forward than that of the second, the head of the second than that of the third, and so forth, the shock of the French guard upon the British came in four separate blows, each delivered a few moments later than the last.
We have seen how the Dutch broke the first column.
The second column, which attacked theright of Halkett’s brigade, failed also. The 33rd and 69th wavered indeed, but recovered, and their recovery was largely due to the personal courage of their chief.
The next column, again, the third, came upon the British Guards; and the Guards, reserving their fire until the enemy were at a stone’s-throw, fired point-blank and threw the French into confusion. During that confusion the brigade of Guards charged, pursued the enemy part of the way down the slope, were closed upon by the enemy and driven back again to the ridge.
The fourth column of the French was now all but striking the extremity of the British line. Here Adams’ brigade, a battalion of the 95th, the 71st, and the 52nd regiments, awaited the blow.
The 52nd was the inmost of the three.
It stood just where the confusion of the Guards as they were thrown back up the hill joined the still unbroken ranks of Adams’ extremity of the British line.
The 52nd determined the crisis of that day. And it was then precisely that the battle of Waterloo was decided, or, to be more accurate, this was the moment when the inevitable breaking-point appeared.
Colborne was its commander. Insteadof waiting in the line, he determined to run the very grave risk of leaving it upon his own initiative, and of playing a tremendous hazard; he took it upon himself to bring the 52nd out, forward in advance of and perpendicular to the defending line, and so to bring a flank fire upon the last French charge.
The peril was very great indeed. It left a gap in the English line; the possibility, even the chance, of a French advance to the left against that gap and behind the 52nd meant ruin. It was the sort of thing which, when men do it and fail, is quite the end of them. Colborne did it and succeeded. No French effort was made to the left of the 52nd. It had thereforebut its front to consider; it wheeled round, left that dangerous gap in the English line, and poured its fire in flank upon the last charge of the fourth French column. That fire was successful. The assault halted, wavered, and began to break.
The French line to the right, advancing in support of the efforts of the Guard, saw that backward movement, and even as they saw it there came the news of Ziethen’s unchecked and overwhelming pressure upon the north-east of the field, a pressure which there also had at last broken the French formation.
The two things were so nearly simultaneous that no historical search or argument will now determine the right of either to priority. As the French west of the Brussels road gave way, the whole English line moved together and began to advance. As the remnants of the First French Army Corps to the east of the Brussels road were struck by Ziethentheyalso broke. At which point the first flexion occurred will never be determined.
The host of Napoleon, stretched to the last limit, and beyond, snapped with the more violence, and in those last moments of daylight a complete confusion seized upon all but two of its numerous and scattered units.
Those two were, first, certain remnants of the Guard itself, and secondly, Lobau’s troops, still stubbornly holding the eastern flank.
Squares of the Old Guard, standing firm but isolated in the flood of the panic, checked the pursuit only as islands check a torrent. The pursuit still held. All the world knows the story of the challenge shouted to these veterans, and of Cambronne’s disputed reply just before the musket ball broke his face and he fell for dead. Lobau also, as I have said, held his troops together. But the flood of the Prussian advance, perpetually increasing, carried Plancenoit; the rear ranks of the Sixth Army Corps, thrust into the great river of fugitives that was now pouring southward in panic down the Brussels road, were swept away by it and were lost; and at last, as darkness fell, the first ranks also were mixed into the mass of panic, and the Imperial army had ceased to exist.
There was a moon that night; and hour after hour the Prussian cavalry, to whom the task had been entrusted, followed, sabring, pressing, urging the rout. Mile after mile, past the field of Quatre Bras itself, where the corpses, stripped by thepeasantry, still lay stark after those two days, the rush of the breakdown ran. Exhaustion had weakened the pursuers before fear had given way to fatigue with the pursued; and when the remnants of Napoleon’s army were past the Sambre again, not 30,000 disjointed, unorganised, dispersed, and broken men had survived the disaster.[27]
FINIS
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Footnotes:
[1]I use the word “English” here to emphasise the character of Wellington’s command; for though even this second half of the allied line was not in its majority of British origin, yet it contained a large proportion of British troops; the commander was an Englishman, the Duke of Wellington, and the best elements in the force were from these islands.
[2]Rather more than 106,000; guns 204.
[3]Surely an error in judgment, for thus the whole mass of the army, all of it except the First and Second Corps, would be crossing the Sambre at that one place, with all the delay such a plan would involve. As a fact, the Fourth Corps, or right wing of the advance, was at last sent over the river by Châtelet, but it would have been better to have given such orders at the beginning.
[4]There were some five hundred Prussian prisoners.
[5]Seeante, pp.27and32.
[6]A lengthy digression might here be admitted upon the question of how defence against aerial scouting will develop. That it will develop none can doubt. Every such advantage upon the part of one combatant has at last been neutralised by the spread of a common knowledge and a common method to all.
[7]To be accurate, not quite five-twelfths.
[8]It is worth remarking that Perponcher had been told by Wellington, when he first heard of Napoleon’s approach, to remain some miles off to the west at Nivelles. Wellington laboured, right up to the battle of Waterloo, under the fantastic impression that the French, or a considerable body of them, were, for some extraordinary reason, going to leave the Brussels road, go round westward and attack hisright. He was, as might be expected of a defensive genius, nervous for his communications. Luckily for Wellington, Perponcher simply disobeyed these orders, left Nivelles before dawn, was at Quatre Bras before sunrise, and proceeded to act as we shall see above.
[9]Or at the most sixteen.
[10]This first division of the Guards consisted of the two brigades of Maitland and of Byng.
[11]Let it be remembered, for instance, that Ziethen’s corps, which helped to turn the scale at Waterloo, two days later, only arrived, on the field of battleless than half an hour before sunset.
[12]I have in this map numbered separate corps and units from one to ten, without giving them names. The units include the English cavalry and Dornberg’s brigade, with the Cumberland Hussars, the First, Second, Third, and Fifth Infantry Divisions, the corps of Brunswick, the Nassauers, and the Second and Third Netherlands Divisions. All of these ultimately reached Quatre Bras with the exception of the Second Infantry Division.
[13]In which 15,000, as accurate statistics are totally lacking, and the whole thing is a matter of rough estimate, we may assign what proportion we will to killed, to wounded, and to prisoners respectively.
[14]The reason he was thus ignorant of what had really happened to the Prussians was, that the officer who had been sent by the chief of the Prussian staff to the Duke after nightfall to inform him of the Prussian defeat had never arrived. That officer had been severely wounded on the way, and the message was not delivered.
[15]There has arisen a discussion as to the whole nature of this retreat between the French authorities, who insist upon the close pursuit by their troops and the precipitate flight of the English rearguard, and the English authorities, who point out how slight were the losses of that rearguard, and how just was Wellington’s comment that the retreat, as a whole, was unmolested.
This dispute is solved, as are many disputes, by the consideration that each narrator is right from his point of view. The French pursuit was most vigorous, the English rearguard was very hard pressed indeed; but that rearguard was so well handled that it continually held its own, gave back as good as it got, and efficiently protected the unmolested retreat of the mass of the army.
[16]“Dead” ground means ground in front of a position shelteredby its very steepnessfrom the fire of the defence upon the summit. The ideal front for a defence conducted with firearms is not a very steep slope, but a long, slight, open andevenone.
[17]Almost exactly ten per cent.
[18]It is from thirty to fifty feet above the spur on which he had just ranged his guns in front of the army, some twenty-five feet higher than the crest occupied a mile off by the allied army, and a few feet higher than the bare land somewhat more than four miles off, upon which Napoleon first discerned the arriving Prussians.
[19]Seemap opposite title-page.
[20]There is conflict of evidence as to how long the brigade was exposed to this terrible ordeal. It was slightly withdrawn at some moment, but what moment is doubtful.
[21]The group marked “C” upon thecoloured map. It was for the most part under the command of Milhaud, but the rear of it was under the command of Desnoettes.
[22]See sketch opposite page134.
[23]This is the wood upon the extreme right hand of thecoloured map.
[24]In the model on p.155Plancenoit is not shown. It would be out of the model, nearer the spectator, behind Napoleon’s position at A, and between A and N.
[25]The Guard as a whole had lain behind the French line in reserve all day upon the point marked D upon thecoloured map.
[26]Virtually, this advance in echelon had turned into four columns.
[27]We may allow certainly 7000 prisoners and 30,000 killed and wounded, but that is a minimum. It is quite possible that another 3000 should be added to the prisoners and other 5000 to those who fell. The estimates differ so widely because the numerous desertions after the fall of the Empire make it very difficult to compare the remnant of the army with its original strength.
Transcriber’s Note:
Other than the corrections noted by hover information, printer’s inconsistencies in spelling and hyphenation have been retained.