The firing began to grow slacker, and even intermitting, as we
entered on the field of Quatre Bras--our horses stumbling from time
to time over corpses of the slain, which they were too tired to step
over. The shot and shells which flew over our line of march from time
to time (some of the latter bursting beyond us) were sufficient to
enable us to say we had been _in_ the battle of Quatre Bras, for such
was the name of the place where we now arrived, just too late to be
useful. In all directions the busy hum of human voices was heard;
the wood along the skirts of which we marched re-echoed clearly and
loudly the tones of the bugle, which ever and anon were overpowered
by the sullen roar of cannon, or the sharper rattle of musketry; dark
crowds of men moved in the increasing obscurity of evening, and the
whole scene seemed alive with them. What a moment of excitement and
anxiety as we proceeded amongst all this tumult, and amidst the dead
and dying, ignorant as yet how the affair had terminated! Arrived at
a mass of buildings, where four roads met (_les quatre bras_), Major
M‘Donald again came up with orders for us to bivouac on an adjoining
field, where, accordingly, we established ourselves amongst the
remains of a wheat crop.
Our men dismounted, and the horses tied up to the wheels of the
carriages, every one was despatched with canteens and water-buckets
to a well at the farm, to procure water for themselves and horses.
This being the only water in the immediate neighbourhood, the crowd
of all arms was so great about it that our people were employed fully
two hours after halting ere they had completed watering their horses.
They were then fed with corn, whilst eating which, a patch of wheat
still standing was discovered near our bivouac. This we immediately
cut or pulled up, and thus saved our hay, for there was sufficient
to employ the poor brutes all night, if they preferred eating to
sleeping.
Our animals cared for, the next consideration was ourselves. The
men had provisions ready cooked in their havresacks, and therefore
soon made themselves comfortable; but we had nothing, could procure
nothing, and were likely to go supperless to bed. We had assembled in
a little circle, discussing the events of the day previous to lying
down, when, to our no small joy, the doctor made his appearance,
followed by one of the servants bearing the remnant of a large
meat-pie that yesterday had formed _part_ of our dinner at Strytem,
and which he, with laudable zeal and presence of mind, had in the
hurry-scurry of the morning thrust into our little cart, thinking,
good man, it might prove useful. No one can doubt that it did so in
a degree; but the sixth part of the _remnant_ of a pie went little
way to satisfy the cravings of our stomachs, which had had so long
a holiday. However, it was something, and we were grateful for it,
and thankful to our worthy Esculapius for having been so provident.
The meal ended and cigars lighted, we sat enveloped in our cloaks,
chatting and listening to the Babel-like confusion at the well, where
crowds were still struggling for water, until, one by one, we sank on
the ground, overcome by sleep, which for my part remained unbroken
until the grey dawn began to peep of the
_17th June_, when a popping fire of musketry, apparently close at
hand, aroused me again to consciousness of my situation. At first
I could not imagine where I was. I looked straight up, and the
stars were twinkling over me in a clear sky. I put out a hand from
beneath my cloak, and felt clods of damp earth and stalks of straw.
The brattle of musketry increased, and then the consciousness of
my situation came gradually over me. Although somewhat chilly, I
was still drowsy, and, regardless of what might be going on, had
turned on my side and began to doze again, when one of my neighbours
started up with the exclamation, “I wonder what all that firing
means!” This in an instant dispelled all desire to sleep; and up
I got too, mechanically repeating his words, and rubbing my eyes
as I began to peer about. One of the first, and certainly the most
gratifying, sights that met my inquiring gaze, was Quartermaster
Hall, who had arrived during the night with all his charge safe and
sound. He had neither seen nor heard, however, of Mr Coates and his
train of country waggons, for whom I began now to entertain serious
apprehensions. From whatever the musketry might proceed, we could see
nothing--not even the flashes; but the increasing light allowed me to
distinguish numberless dark forms on the ground all around me, people
slumbering still, regardless of the firing that had aroused me. At
a little distance numerous white discs, which were continually in
motion, changing place and disappearing, to be succeeded by others,
puzzled me exceedingly, and I could not even form a conjecture as
to what they might be. Watching them attentively, I was still more
surprised when some of these white objects ascended from the ground
and suddenly disappeared; but the mystery was soon explained by the
increasing light, which gave to my view a corps of Nassau troops
lying on the ground, having white tops to their shakos. Daylight
now gradually unfolded to us our situation. We were on a plateau
which had been covered with corn, now almost everywhere trodden
down. Four roads, as already mentioned, met a little to the right
of our front, and just at that point stood a farmhouse, which, with
its outbuildings, yard, &c., was enclosed by a very high wall. This
was the farm of Quatre Bras. Beyond it, looking obliquely to the
right, the wood (in which the battle still lingered when we arrived
last night) stretched away some distance along the roads to Nivelle
and Charleroi, which last we understood lay in front, but far out
of sight. Along the continuation of the Charleroi road, and in the
direction of Brussels, a little in rear of our right, a few cottages
scattered along it had their little gardens enclosed by banks, with
here and there an elder or some such bush growing on them; and these
were the only enclosures to be seen, all the rest being a wide extent
of corn-land without hedge or wall. On the farther side of the road,
beyond the cottages, the fields were interspersed with thickets of
underwood and a few clumps of trees, which shut in the view in that
direction. To the rear the country appeared perfectly naked and
open. To the left (I always speak with reference to the enemy whom
we fronted) the ground descended very gradually for about two miles,
where it appeared bounded by a long wood extending far away towards
Brussels. In front it descended more abruptly; and then there was a
plain about a mile in breadth extending along our front, from the
wood on the left to that on the right. The great road from Nivelle
to Namur, crossing that from Brussels to Charleroi at Quatre Bras,
ran along this plain, whilst the direction of the latter was nearly
perpendicular to our position. Beyond this plain the ground rose
again to a height somewhat superior to that on which we stood, and
another large wood extended on it from opposite the one on our left,
apparently half-way to that on the right, having the declivity
towards us laid out in fields enclosed by pretty thick hedges.
Between these two woods the opening gave us an extensive view over
the country, in the direction of Gembloux and Namur.
On the Charleroi road and in the plain was a small village (Frasnes),
with its church, just beyond which the road ascended the heights,
on the open part of which, between the road and the wood towards
the left, was the bivouac of the French army opposed to us. Its
advanced-posts were in the valley near Frasnes, and ours opposite to
them--our main body occupying the ground between Quatre Bras and the
wood on the left. A smart skirmish was going on amongst the hedges,
&c., already mentioned, and this was the firing we had heard all
the morning. Our infantry were lying about, cleaning their arms,
cooking, or amusing themselves, totally regardless of the skirmish.
This, however, from our position, was a very interesting sight to
me, for the slope of the ground enabled me to see distinctly all
the manœuvres of both parties, as on a plan. After much firing from
the edge of the wood, opposite which our riflemen occupied all the
hedges, I saw the French chasseurs suddenly make a rush forward
in all directions, whilst the fire of our people became thicker
and faster than ever. Many of the former scampered across the open
fields until they reached the nearest hedges, whilst others ran
crouching under cover of those perpendicular to their front, and the
whole succeeded in establishing themselves--thus forcing back and
gaining ground on our men. The fire then again became sharper than
ever--sometimes the French were driven back; and this alternation I
watched with great interest until summoned to Major M‘Donald, who
brought us orders for the day. From him I first learned the result
of the action of yesterday--the retreat of the Prussians, and that
we were to do so too. His directions to me were that I should follow
some corps of infantry, or something of the sort; for what followed
caused me to forget it all: “_Major Ramsay’s troop_,” he said, “_will
remain in the rear with the cavalry, to cover the retreat; but I will
not conceal from you that it falls to your turn to do this, if you
choose it_.” The Major looked rather conscience-stricken as he made
this avowal, so, to relieve him, I begged he would give the devil
his due and me mine. Accordingly all the others marched off, and as
nothing was likely to take place immediately, we amused ourselves by
looking on at what was doing. Just at this moment an amazing outcry
arose amongst the infantry at the farm, who were running towards us
in a confused mass, shouting and bellowing, jostling and pushing
each other. I made sure the enemy’s cavalry had made a dash amongst
them, especially as the fire of the skirmishers became thicker and
apparently nearer, when the thing was explained by a large pig,
squealing as if already stuck, bursting from the throng by which he
was beset in all directions. Some struck at him with axes, others
with the butts of their muskets, others stabbed at him with bayonets.
The chase would have been amusing had it not been so brutal; and I
have seldom experienced greater horror than I did on this occasion
when the poor brute, staggering from the repeated blows he received,
was at last brought to the ground by at least half-a-dozen bayonets
plunged into him at once.
All this time our retreat was going on very quietly. The corps at
Quatre Bras had retired early in the morning and been replaced by
others from the left, and this continued constantly--every corps
halting for a time on the ground near Quatre Bras until another from
the left arrived, these moving off on the great road to Brussels,
ceding the ground to the new-comers.
At first every one, exulting in the success of yesterday--the having
repulsed the enemy with a handful of men, as it were, unsupported by
cavalry and with very little artillery--anticipated, now our army
was united, nothing less than an immediate attack on the French
position. We were sadly knocked down, then, when the certainty of
our retreat became known. It was in vain we were told the retreat
was only a manœuvre of concentration; the most gloomy anticipations
pervaded every breast. About this time Sir Alexander Dickson paid me
a visit, having just arrived from New Orleans, where he commanded the
artillery, to be our Deputy-Quartermaster-General. He only stayed a
few minutes.
As the infantry corps on the plateau became fewer, the fire of the
skirmishers amongst the hedges gradually relaxed, and at length
ceased--the Rifles, &c., being withdrawn, and following the line of
retreat. At last, about noon, I found myself left with my troop,
quite alone, on the brow of the position, just by the farm of Quatre
Bras--the only troops in sight being a small picket of hussars, near
the village of Frasnes, in the plain below; a few more in our rear,
but at some little distance, amongst the houses; and a brigade of
hussars[13] far away to the left (about two miles), close to the
wood in that quarter. Thus solitary, as it were, I had ample leisure
to contemplate the scene of desolation around me, so strangely at
variance with the otherwise smiling landscape. Everywhere mementoes
of yesterday’s bloody struggle met the eye--the corn trampled down,
and the ground, particularly in the plain, plentifully besprinkled
with bodies of the slain. Just in front of the farm of Quatre Bras
there was a fearful scene of slaughter--Highlanders and cuirassiers
lying thickly strewn about; the latter appeared to have charged up
the Charleroi road, on which, and immediately bordering it, they lay
most numerously.
In communicating to me the orders of our retreat, Major M‘Donald
had reiterated that to join Lord Edward Somerset’s brigade without
delay, but still he could not tell me where this brigade was to be
found. Meantime Sir Ormsby Vandeleur’s brigade of light dragoons
having formed up in front of the houses, and supposing from this
that all the cavalry must be nigh, as one step towards finding Lord
Edward I crossed the road to the right of these dragoons, and rode
towards the part where, as before stated, the light was intercepted
by trees and bushes. On passing through these I had an uninterrupted
view of the country for miles, but not a soldier or living being was
to be seen in that direction. As I pushed on through the thickets
my horse, suddenly coming to a stand, began to snort, and showed
unequivocal symptoms of fear. I drove him on, however, but started
myself when I saw, lying under the bush, the body of a man stripped
naked. This victim of war was a youth of fair form, skin delicately
white, and face but little darker; an embryo mustache decorated the
upper lip, and his countenance, even in death, was beautiful. That he
was French I conjectured, but neither on himself nor his horse was
there a particle of clothing that could indicate to what nation he
belonged. If French, how came he here to die alone so far in the rear
of our lines? I know not why, but the rencontre with this solitary
corpse had a wonderful effect on my spirits--far different from what
I felt when gazing on the heaps that encumbered the field beyond.
Seldom have I experienced such despondency--such heart-sinking--as
when standing over this handsome form thus despoiled, neglected, and
about to become a prey to wolves and carrion crows--the darling of
some fond mother, the adored of some fair maid. His horse, stripped
like himself, lay by--they had met their fate at once. Returning
to my troop, I found Sir Augustus Frazer, who had come to order my
ammunition-waggons to the rear that the retreat might be as little
encumbered as possible, and to tell me that what ammunition was used
during the day would be supplied by my sending for it to Langeveldt,
on the road to Brussels, where that to Wavre branches from it.
Thus divested of our ammunition, it was evident that our retreat must
be a rapid one, since with only fifty rounds a-gun (the number in the
limbers), it could not be expected that we could occupy any position
longer than a few minutes. In the end, this measure had nearly led to
very disagreeable results, as will be seen anon.
It was now about one o’clock. My battery stood in position on the
brow of the declivity, with its right near the wall of the farm,
all alone, the only troops in sight being, as before mentioned, the
picket and a few scattered hussars in the direction of Frasnes, Sir
O. Vandeleur’s light dragoons two or three hundred yards in our
rear, and Sir H. Vivian’s hussars far away to the left. Still the
French army made no demonstration of an advance. This inactivity was
unaccountable. Lord Uxbridge and an aide-de-camp came to the front
of my battery, and, dismounting, seated himself on the ground; so
did I and the aide-de-camp. His lordship with his glass was watching
the French position; and we were all three wondering at their want
of observation and inactivity, which had not only permitted our
infantry to retire unmolested, but also still retained them in
their bivouac. “It will not be long now before they are on us,”
said the aide-de-camp, “for they always dine before they move; and
those smokes seem to indicate that they are cooking now.” He was
right; for not long afterwards another aide-de-camp, scouring along
the valley, came to report that a heavy column of cavalry[14] was
advancing through the opening between the woods to the left from the
direction of Gembloux. At the same moment we saw them distinctly;
and Lord Uxbridge, having reconnoitered them a moment through his
glass, started up, exclaiming, in a joyful tone, “By the Lord, they
are Prussians!” jumped on his horse, and, followed by the two aides,
dashed off like a whirlwind to meet them. For a moment I stood
looking after them as they swept down the slope, and could not help
wondering how the Prussians came there. I was, however, not left long
in my perplexity, for, turning my eyes towards the French position,
I saw their whole army descending from it in three or four dark
masses, whilst their advanced cavalry picket was already skirmishing
with and driving back our hussars. The truth instantly flashed on my
mind, and I became exceedingly uneasy for the safety of Lord Uxbridge
and his companions, now far advanced on their way down the valley,
and likely to be irretrievably cut off. My situation now appeared
somewhat awkward: left without orders and entirely alone on the brow
of our position--the hussar pickets galloping in and hurrying past
as fast as they could--the whole French army advancing, and already
at no great distance. In this dilemma, I determined to retire across
the little dip that separated me from Sir O. Vandeleur, and take up
a position in front of his squadrons, whence, after giving a round
to the French advance as soon as they stood on our present ground,
I thought I could retire in sufficient time through his intervals
to leave the ground clear for him to charge. This movement was
immediately executed; but the guns were scarcely unlimbered ere Sir
Ormsby came furiously up, exclaiming, “What are you doing here, sir?
You encumber my front, and we shall not be able to charge. Take your
guns away, sir; instantly, I say--take them away!” It was in vain
that I endeavoured to explain my intentions, and that our fire would
allow his charge to be made with more effect. “No, no; take them out
of my way, sir!” was all the answer I could get; and, accordingly,
I was preparing to obey, when up came Lord Uxbridge, and the scene
changed in a twinkling. “Captain Mercer, are you loaded?” “Yes, my
lord.” “Then give them a round as they rise the hill, and retire
as quickly as possible.” “Light dragoons, threes right; at a trot,
march!” and then some orders to Sir Ormsby, of whom I saw no more
that day. “They are just coming up the hill,” said Lord Uxbridge.
“Let them get well up before you fire. Do you think you can retire
quick enough afterwards?” “I am sure of it, my lord.” “Very well,
then, keep a good look-out, and point your guns well.” I had often
longed to see Napoleon, that mighty man of war--that astonishing
genius who had filled the world with his renown. Now I saw him, and
there was a degree of sublimity in the interview rarely equalled.
The sky had become overcast since the morning, and at this moment
presented a most extraordinary appearance. Large isolated masses
of thundercloud, of the deepest, almost inky black, their lower
edges hard and strongly defined, lagging down, as if momentarily
about to burst, hung suspended over us, involving our position and
everything on it in deep and gloomy obscurity; whilst the distant
hill lately occupied by the French army still lay bathed in brilliant
sunshine. Lord Uxbridge was yet speaking, when a single horseman,[15]
immediately followed by several others, mounted the plateau I had
left at a gallop, their dark figures thrown forward in strong relief
from the illuminated distance, making them appear much nearer to us
than they really were. For an instant they pulled up and regarded us,
when several squadrons, coming rapidly on the plateau, Lord Uxbridge
cried out, “Fire!--fire!” and, giving them a general discharge, we
quickly limbered up to retire, as they dashed forward supported by
some horse-artillery guns, which opened upon us ere we could complete
the manœuvre, but without much effect, for the only one touched was
the servant of Major Whinyates, who was wounded in the leg by the
splinter of a howitzer shell.
It was now for the first time that I discovered the Major and his
rocket-troop, who, annoyed at my having the rear, had disobeyed
the order to retreat, and remained somewhere in the neighbourhood
until this moment, hoping to share whatever might be going on. The
first gun that was fired seemed to burst the clouds overhead, for
its report was instantly followed by an awful clap of thunder, and
lightning that almost blinded us, whilst the rain came down as if
a water-spout had broken over us. The sublimity of the scene was
inconceivable. Flash succeeded flash, and the peals of thunder were
long and tremendous; whilst, as if in mockery of the elements, the
French guns still sent forth their feebler glare and now scarcely
audible reports--their cavalry dashing on at a headlong pace, adding
their shouts to the uproar. We galloped for our lives through the
storm, striving to gain the enclosures about the houses of the
hamlets, Lord Uxbridge urging us on, crying, “Make haste!--make
haste! for God’s sake, gallop, or you will be taken!” We did make
haste, and succeeded in getting amongst the houses and gardens, but
with the French advance close on our heels. Here, however, observing
the chaussée full of hussars, they pulled up. Had they continued
their charge we were gone, for these hussars were scattered about the
road in the utmost confusion, some in little squads, others singly,
and, moreover, so crowded together that we had no room whatever to
act with any effect--either they or us.
Meantime the enemy’s detachments began to envelop the gardens,
which Lord Uxbridge observing, called to me, “Here follow me with
two of your guns,” and immediately himself led the way into one
of the narrow lanes between the gardens. What he intended doing,
God knows, but I obeyed. The lane was very little broader than our
carriages--there was not room for a horse to have passed them! The
distance from the chaussée to the end of the lane, where it debouched
on the open fields, could scarcely have been above one or two hundred
yards at most. His lordship and I were in front, the guns and
mounted detachments following. What he meant to do I was at a loss
to conceive: we could hardly come to action in the lane; to enter
on the open was certain destruction. Thus we had arrived at about
fifty yards from its termination when a body of chasseurs or hussars
appeared there as if waiting for us. These we might have seen from
the first, for nothing but a few elder bushes intercepted the view
from the chaussée. The whole transaction appears to me so wild and
confused that at times I can hardly believe it to have been more
than a confused dream--yet true it was;--the general-in-chief of the
cavalry exposing himself amongst the skirmishers of his rear-guard,
and literally doing the duty of a cornet! “By God! we are all
prisoners” (or some such words), exclaimed Lord Uxbridge, dashing his
horse at one of the garden-banks, which he cleared, and away he went,
leaving us to get out of the scrape as best we could. There was no
time for hesitation--one manœuvre alone could extricate us if allowed
time, and it I ordered. “Reverse by unlimbering” was the order. To
do this the gun was to be unlimbered, then turned round, and one
wheel run up the bank, which just left space for the limber to pass
it. The gun is then limbered up again and ready to move to the rear.
The execution, however, was not easy, for the very reversing of the
limber itself in so narrow a lane, with a team of eight horses, was
sufficiently difficult, and required first-rate driving. Nothing
could exceed the coolness and activity of our men; the thing was
done quickly and well, and we returned to the chaussée without let or
hindrance. How we were permitted to do so, I am at a loss to imagine;
for although I gave the order to reverse, I certainly never expected
to have seen it executed. Meantime my own situation was anything but
a pleasant one, as I sat with my back to the gentlemen at the end of
the lane, whose interference I momentarily expected, casting an eye
from time to time over my shoulder to ascertain whether they still
kept their position. There they sat motionless, and although thankful
for their inactivity, I could not but wonder at their stupidity. It
seemed, however, all of a piece that day--all blunder and confusion;
and this last I found pretty considerable on regaining the chaussée.
His lordship we found collecting the scattered hussars together
into a squadron for our rescue, for which purpose it was he had so
unceremoniously left us. Heavy as the rain was and thick the weather,
yet the French could not but have seen the confusion we were in, as
they had closed up to the entrance of the enclosure; and yet they did
not at once take advantage of it. Things could not remain long in
this state. A heavy column of cavalry approached us by the chaussée,
whilst another, skirting the enclosures, appeared pushing forward to
cut us off. Retreat now became imperative. The order was given, and
away we went, helter-skelter--guns, gun-detachments, and hussars all
mixed _pêle-mêle_, going like mad, and covering each other with mud,
to be washed off by the rain, which, before sufficiently heavy, now
came down again as it had done at first in splashes instead of drops,
soaking us anew to the skin, and, what was worse, extinguishing every
slow-match in the brigade. The obscurity caused by the splashing
of the rain was such, that at one period I could not distinguish
objects more than a few yards distant. Of course we lost sight of our
pursuers altogether, and the shouts and halloos, and even laughter,
they had at first sent forth were either silenced or drowned in the
uproar of the elements and the noise of our too rapid retreat; for
in addition to everything else the crashing and rattling of the
thunder were most awful, and the glare of the lightning blinding.
In this state we gained the bridge of Genappe at the moment when
the thundercloud, having passed over, left us in comparative fine
weather, although still raining heavily.
The town of Genappe stands on the slope of a hill rising immediately
from the little verdant valley through which the Lys flows--here
little better than a brook. Arrived at the bridge, we slackened our
pace, and ascended leisurely the narrow winding street, in which
not a living soul was visible. The shutters were all closed, and
stream of water pouring from the roofs formed a perfect torrent of
the gutter running down the middle of it. This solitude was rather a
disappointment, for I had hoped here to have got fire to relight our
slow-match.
For the last mile or so we had neither seen nor heard anything of
our lively French friends, and now silently wound our way up the
deserted street, nothing disturbing its death-like stillness save the
iron sound of horses’ feet, the rumbling of the carriages, and the
splashing of water as it fell from the eaves,--all this was stillness
compared with the hurly-burly and din from which we had just emerged.
On gaining the high ground beyond the town, we suddenly came in sight
of the main body of our cavalry drawn up across the chaussée in two
lines, and extending away far to the right and left of it.
It would have been an imposing spectacle at any time, but just now
appeared to me magnificent and I hailed it with complacency, for
here I thought our fox-chase must end. “Those superb Life Guards
and Blues will soon teach our pursuers a little modesty.” Such
fellows!--surely nothing can withstand them. Scarcely had these
thoughts passed through my mind ere an order from his lordship
recalled us to the rear. On debouching from the town, seeing nothing
in the country right and left of us, and fearful of impeding the
retreat, whilst our hussars retired skirmishing through the street
(the French having again come up), we had continued onward to
gain the position occupied by our heavy cavalry, from which we
were still separated by a small dip of the ground. We returned
then to the end of the town, where the flight of shot and shells
over us (the road was here sunk between two high banks) gave very
intelligible information as to the reason of our recall. The enemy’s
horse-artillery, having taken up a position in the meadows near the
bridge, were annoying our dragoons as they debouched from the town.
The ground was heavy from the rain, and very steep, so that it was
only by great exertion that we succeeded at last in getting our guns
into the adjoining field. The moment we appeared the French battery
bestowed on us its undivided attention, which we quickly acknowledged
by an uncommonly well-directed fire of spherical case. Whilst so
employed, Major M‘Donald came up and put me through a regular
catechism as to length of fuze, whether out of bag A or B, &c. &c.
Although much vexed at such a schooling just now, yet the Major
appeared so seriously in earnest that I could not but be amused;
however, to convince him we knew what we were about, I directed his
attention to our excellent practice, so superior to that of our
antagonist, who was sending all his shot far over our heads. The
French seemed pretty well convinced of this too, for after standing
a few rounds they quitted the field, and left us again without
occupation. The Major vanishing at the same time, I sent my guns,
&c., to the rear, and set off to join Lord Uxbridge, who was still
fighting in the street. Our ammunition was expended, the waggons
having been taken away by Sir Augustus Frazer at Quatre Bras.
On regaining my troop, I found Major M‘Donald and the rockets with
it. They were in position on a gentle elevation, on which likewise
were formed the lines of cavalry extending across the chaussée.
Immediately on our left, encased in the hollow road, the Blues were
formed in close column of half-squadrons, and it was not long ere
Lord Uxbridge, with those he had retained at Genappe, came sweeping
over the hill and joined us. They were closely followed by the
French light cavalry, who, descending into the hollow, commenced
a sharp skirmish with our advanced-posts. Soon squadron after
squadron appeared on the hill we had passed, and took up their
positions, forming a long line parallel to ours, whilst a battery of
horse-artillery, forming across the chaussée, just on the brow of
the declivity, opened its fire on us, though without much effect. To
this we responded, though very slowly, having no more ammunition than
what remained in our limbers. In order to amuse the enemy and our
own cavalry, as well as to prevent the former noticing the slackness
of our fire, I proposed to Major M‘Donald making use of the rockets,
which had hitherto done nothing. There was a little hesitation
about this, and one of the officers (Strangways) whispered me, “No,
no--it’s too far!” This I immediately told the Major, proposing as a
remedy that they should go closer. Still there was demur; but at last
my proposition was agreed to, and down they marched into the thick of
the skirmishers in the bottom. Of course, having proposed the measure
myself, I could do no less than accompany them. Whilst they prepared
their machinery, I had time to notice what was going on to the right
and left of us. Two double lines of skirmishers extended all along
the bottom--the foremost of each line were within a few yards of each
other--constantly in motion, riding backwards and forwards, firing
their carbines or pistols, and then reloading, still on the move.
This fire seemed to me more dangerous for those on the hills above
than for us below; for all, both French and English, generally stuck
out their carbines or pistols as they continued to move backwards and
forwards, and discharged them without taking any particular aim, and
mostly in the air. I did not see a man fall on either side; the thing
appeared quite ridiculous; and but for hearing the bullets whizzing
overhead, one might have fancied it no more than a sham-fight.
Meanwhile the rocketeers had placed a little iron triangle in the
road with a rocket lying on it. The order to fire is given--portfire
applied--the fidgety missile begins to sputter out sparks and wriggle
its tail for a second or so, and then darts forth straight up the
chaussée. A gun stands right in its way, between the wheels of which
the shell in the head of the rocket bursts, the gunners fall right
and left, and, those of the other guns taking to their heels, the
battery is deserted in an instant. Strange; but so it was. I saw
them run, and for some minutes afterwards I saw the guns standing
mute and unmanned, whilst our rocketeers kept shooting off rockets,
none of which ever followed the course of the first; most of them, on
arriving about the middle of the ascent, took a vertical direction,
whilst some actually turned back upon ourselves--and one of these,
following me like a squib until its shell exploded, actually put
me in more danger than all the fire of the enemy throughout the
day. Meanwhile the French artillerymen, seeing how the land lay,
returned to their guns and opened a fire of case-shot on us, but
without effect, for we retreated to our ridge without the loss of a
man, or even any wounded, though the range could not have been above
200 yards. As we had overtaken the rear of our infantry, it became
necessary to make a stand here to enable them to gain ground. Major
M‘Donald therefore sent me in pursuit of my ammunition-waggons,
since all in our limbers was expended. Having before sent for these,
we calculated that they could not now be very far off. In going to
the rear I passed along the top of the bank, under which, as I have
said, the Blues were encased in the hollow road. Shot and shells were
flying pretty thickly about just then, and, sometimes striking the
top of the bank, would send down a shower of mud and clods upon them.
The ammunition-waggons I found coming up, and was returning with
them when I met my whole troop again retiring by the road, whilst
the cavalry did so by alternate regiments across the fields. The
ground offering no feature for another stand, we continued thus along
the road. The infantry had made so little progress that we again
overtook the rear of their column, composed of Brunswickers--some of
those same boys I used to see practising at Schäpdale in my rides to
Brussels. These poor lads were pushing on at a great rate. As soon
as their rear divisions heard the sound of our horses’ feet, without
once looking behind them, they began to crowd and press on those in
front, until at last, hearing us close up to them, and finding it
impossible to push forward in the road, many of them broke off into
the fields; and such was their panic that, in order to run lighter,
away went arms and knapsacks in all directions, and a general race
ensued, the whole corps being in the most horrid confusion. It was
to no purpose that I exerted my little stock of German to make them
understand we were their English friends--a frightened glance and
away, was all the effect of my interference, which drove many of
them off. We, however, still kept on our way, and soon after passed
a few houses by the roadside, which I afterwards found was La Belle
Alliance. Hence we crossed another valley, and on rising the opposite
hill I found a capital position on the top of an old gravel-pit,
which I occupied without loss of time. Behind the ground on which
my guns were formed was a long hedge[16] (a _rara avis_ in this
country), which prevented our seeing anything beyond; and as no
troops were in sight except those following us across the valley, we
had then no idea that we had arrived in the position where our whole
army was assembled, nor that we then stood upon ground which, ere
to-morrow’s sun were set, would for ever be celebrated throughout all
generations!
We did not long remain idle, for the guns were scarcely loaded ere
the rear of our cavalry came crowding upon the infantry corps we had
passed, and which were then only crossing the valley, the French
advance skirmishing with these, whilst their squadrons occupied the
heights. We waited a little until some of their larger masses were
assembled, and then opened our fire with a range across the valley of
about 1200 yards. The echo of our first gun had not ceased, when, to
my astonishment, a heavy cannonade, commencing in a most startling
manner from behind our hedge, rolled along the rising-ground, on part
of which we were posted. The truth now flashed on me; we had rejoined
the army, and it is impossible to describe the pleasing sense of
security I felt at having now the support of something more stanch
than cavalry.
The French now brought up battery after battery, and a tremendous
cannonading was kept up by both sides for some time. The effect was
grand and exciting. Our position was a happy one, for all their shot
which grazed short, came and struck in the perpendicular bank of our
gravel-pit--and only one struck amongst us, breaking the traversing
handspike at one of the guns, but neither injuring man nor horse.
Our fire was principally directed against their masses as we could
see them, which was not always the case from the smoke that, for
want of wind, hung over them; then against their smaller parties
that had advanced into the valley to skirmish with the rear-guard
of our cavalry. Here for the second and last time I saw Napoleon,
though infinitely more distant than in the morning. Some of my
non-commissioned officers pointed their guns at the numerous cortège
accompanying him as they stood near the road by Belle Alliance; and
one, pointed by old Quartermaster Hall, fell in the midst of them. At
the moment we saw some little confusion amongst the group, but it did
not hinder them from continuing the reconnaissance.
Whilst we were thus engaged, a man of no very prepossessing
appearance came rambling amongst our guns, and entered into
conversation with me on the occurrences of the day. He was dressed in
a shabby old drab greatcoat and a rusty round hat. I took him at the
time for some amateur from Brussels (of whom we had heard there were
several hovering about), and thinking many of his questions rather
impertinent, was somewhat short in answering him, and he soon left
us. How great was my astonishment on learning soon after that this
was Sir Thomas Picton! The enemy, finding us obstinate in maintaining
our position, soon slackened, and then ceased firing altogether; and
we were immediately ordered to do the same, and establish ourselves
in bivouac for the night. This we proceeded to obey as a most welcome
order, and retiring from our position down the hill, came to a
large farm, where, breaking through a quickset hedge, we formed
our park in the adjoining orchard, preferring its green turf to the
plashy, muddy fields around, that morning covered with fine crops of
wheat, now little better than sloughs. We were not long, however, in
discovering that it was only exchanging the frying-pan for the fire,
since our smiling turf was nearly ankle-deep in water, the orchard
lying low and hollow, somewhat below the level of the road. But it
was already growing dark, consequently too late to hunt out another,
so we were obliged to put up with it.
Thoroughly wet--cloaks, blankets, and all--comfort was out of the
question, so we prepared to make the best of it.
Our first care was of course the horses, and these we had ample means
of providing for, since, in addition to what corn we had left, one
of our men had picked up and brought forward on an ammunition-waggon
a large sack full, which he found in the road near Genappe. Thus
they, at least, had plenty to eat, and having been so well drenched
all day, were not much in need of water. For ourselves we had
nothing!--absolutely nothing! and looked forward to rest alone to
restore our exhausted strength. Rather a bore going supperless to
bed after such a day, yet was there no help for it.
But our poor animals were not all of them destined to repose, and
much as they had undergone during the last six-and-thirty hours,
some of them were yet obliged to pass the night on the road, and
in harness. Completing our limbers with ammunition from two of
the ammunition-waggons, a non-commissioned officer was despatched
with these, as soon as the horses had been fed, to Langeveldt near
Brussels, where Sir Augustus Frazer had told me in the morning we
should find a depôt from whence to supply what had been expended
during the day.
These cared for, came the care of ourselves. Our gunners, &c.,
soon stowed themselves away beneath the carriages, using the
painted covers as additional shelter against the rain, which now
set in again as heavy as ever. We set up a small tent, into which
(after vain attempts at procuring food or lodgings in the farm or
its outbuildings, all of which were crammed to suffocation with
officers and soldiers of all arms and nations) we crept, and rolling
ourselves in our wet blankets, huddled close together, in hope,
wet as we were, and wet as the ground was, of keeping each other
warm. I know not how my bed-fellows got on, as we all lay for a
long while perfectly still and silent--the old Peninsular hands
disdaining to complain before their Johnny Newcome comrades, and
these fearing to do so lest they should provoke some such remarks,
as “Lord have mercy on your poor tender carcass! what would such
as you have done in the Pyrenees?” or “Oho, my boy! this is but
child’s play to what _we_ saw in Spain.” So all who did not sleep (I
believe the majority) pretended to do so, and bore their suffering
with admirable heroism. For my part, I once or twice, from sheer
fatigue, got into something like a doze; yet it would not do. There
was no possibility of sleeping, for besides being already so wet,
the tent proved no shelter, the water pouring through the canvas in
streams; so up I got, and, to my infinite joy, found that some of
the men had managed to make a couple of fires, round which they were
sitting smoking their short pipes in something like comfort. The hint
was a good one, and at that moment my second captain joining me, we
borrowed from them a few sticks, and choosing the best spot under
the hedge, proceeded to make a fire for ourselves. In a short time
we succeeded in raising a cheerful blaze, which materially bettered
our situation. My companion had an umbrella (which, by the way, had
afforded some merriment to our people on the march); this we planted
against the sloping bank of the hedge, and seating ourselves under
it, he on one side of the stick, me on the other, we lighted cigars
and became--comfortable. Dear weed! what comfort, what consolation
dost thou not impart to the wretched!--with thee a hovel becomes a
palace. What a stock of patience is there not enveloped in one of
thy brown leaves! And thus we sat enjoying ourselves, puffing forth
into the damp night air streams of fragrant smoke, being able now
deliberately to converse on what had been, and probably would be. All
this time a most infernal clatter of musketry was going on, which,
but for the many quiet dark figures seated round the innumerable
fires all along the position, might have been construed into a
night-attack. But as these gentlemen were between us and the enemy,
we felt assured of timely warning, and ere long learned that all this
proceeded as before from the infantry discharging and cleaning their
pieces. Our conversation naturally turned on our present position;
and after discussing all the pros. and cons., we made up our minds to
recommence the retreat with to-morrow’s sun; but when that retreat
was to terminate, baffled all our powers of conjecture.
Whilst so employed, a rustling in the hedge behind attracted our
attention, and in a few minutes a poor fellow belonging to some
Hanoverian regiment, wet through like everybody else, and shivering
with cold, made his appearance, and modestly begged permission to
remain a short time and warm himself by our fire. He had somehow or
other wandered from his colours, and had passed the greater part
of the night searching for them, but in vain. At first he appeared
quite exhausted, but the warmth reinvigorating him, he pulled out his
pipe and began to smoke. Having finished his modicum, and carefully
disposed of the ashes, he rose from his wet seat to renew his search,
hoping to find his corps before daylight, he said, lest it should be
engaged. Many thanks he offered for our hospitality; but what was
our surprise when, after fumbling in his havresack for some time,
he pulled out a poor half-starved chicken, presented it to us, and
marched off. This was a god-send, in good truth, to people famished
as we were; so calling for a camp-kettle, our prize was on the fire
in a twinkling. Our comrades in the tent did not sleep so soundly but
that they heard what was going on, and the kettle was hardly on the
fire ere my gentlemen were assembled round it, a wet and shivering
group, but all eager to partake of our good fortune--and so eager
that, after various betrayals of impatience, the miserable chicken
was at last snatched from the kettle ere it was half-boiled, pulled
to pieces, and speedily devoured. I got a leg for my share, but it
was not one mouthful, and this was the only food I tasted since the
night before.