The cannonade, which commenced at first between the British right and

the French left, in consequence of the attack on Hougoumont, soon became

general along both lines; and about one o'clock, Napoleon directed a

grand attack to be made under Marshal Ney upon the centre and left wing

of the allied army. For this purpose four columns of infantry, amounting

to about eighteen thousand men, were collected, supported by a strong

division of cavalry under the celebrated Kellerman; and seventy-four

guns were brought forward ready to be posted on the ridge of a little

undulation of the ground in the interval between the two principal

chains of heights, so as to bring their fire to bear on the Duke's line

at a range of about seven hundred yards. By the combined assault of

these formidable forces, led on by Ney, "the bravest of the brave,"

Napoleon hoped to force the left centre of the British position, to take

La Haye Sainte, and then pressing forward, to occupy also the farm of

Mont St. Jean. He then could cut the mass of Wellington's troops off

from their line of retreat upon Brussels, and from their own left,

and also completely sever them from any Prussian troops that might be

approaching.

The columns destined for this great and decisive operation descended

majestically from the French line of hills, and gained the ridge of the

intervening eminence, on which the batteries that supported them were

now ranged. As the columns descended again from this eminence, the

seventy-four guns opened over their heads with terrible effect upon the

troops of the Allies that were stationed on the heights to the left

of the Charleroi road. One of the French columns kept to the east, and

attacked the extreme left of the Allies; the other three continued to

move rapidly forwards upon the left centre of the allied position. The

front line of the Allies here was composed of Bylandt's brigade of Dutch

and Belgians. As the French columns moved up the southward slope of the

height on which the Dutch and Belgians stood, and the skirmishers in

advance began to open their fire, Bylandt's entire brigade turned and

fled in disgraceful and disorderly panic; but there were men more worthy

of the name behind.

In this part of-the second line of the Allies were posted Pack and

Kempt's brigades of English infantry, which had suffered severely at

Quatre Bras. But Picton was here as general of division, and not even

Ney himself surpassed in resolute bravery that stern and fiery spirit.

Picton brought his two brigades forward, side by side, in a thin,

two-deep line. Thus joined together, they were not three thousand

strong. With these Picton had to make head against the three victorious

French columns, upwards of four times that strength, and who, encouraged

by the easy rout of the Dutch and Belgians, now came confidently over

the ridge of the hill. The British infantry stood firm; and as the

French halted and began to deploy into line, Picton seized the critical

moment. He shouted in his stentorian voice to Kempt's brigade: "A

volley, and then charge!" At a distance of less than thirty yards that

volley was poured upon the devoted first sections of the nearest column;

and then, with a fierce hurrah, the British dashed in with the bayonet.

Picton was shot dead as he rushed forward, but his men pushed on with

the cold steel. The French reeled back in confusion. Pack's infantry had

checked the other two columns and down came a whirlwind of British horse

on the whole mass, sending them staggering from the crest of the hill,

and cutting them down by whole battalions. Ponsonby's brigade of heavy

cavalry (the Union Brigade as it was called, from its being made up of

the British Royals, the Scots Greys, and the Irish Inniskillings), did

this good service. On went the horsemen amid the wrecks of the French

columns, capturing two eagles, and two thousand prisoners; onwards

still they galloped, and sabred the artillerymen of Ney's seventy-four

advanced guns; then severing the traces, and cutting the throats of the

artillery horses, they rendered these guns totally useless to the French

throughout the remainder of the day. While thus far advanced beyond the

British position and disordered by success, they were charged by a

large body of French lancers, and driven back with severe loss, till

Vandeleur's Light horse came to their aid, and beat off the French

lancers in their turn.

Equally unsuccessful with the advance of the French infantry in this

grand attack, had been the efforts of the French cavalry who moved

forward in support of it, along the east of the Charleroi road.

Somerset's cavalry of the English Household Brigade had been launched,

on the right of Picton's division, against the French horse, at the same

time that the English Union Brigade of heavy horse charged the French

infantry columns on the left.

Somerset's brigade was formed of the Life Guards, the Blues, and the

Dragoon Guards. The hostile cavalry, which Kellerman led forward,

consisted chiefly of Cuirassiers. This steel-clad mass of French

horsemen rode down some companies of German infantry, near La Haye

Sainte, and flushed with success, they bounded onward to the ridge of

the British position. The English Household Brigade, led on by the

Earl of Uxbridge in person, spurred forward to the encounter, and in

an instant, the two adverse lines of strong swordsmen, on their

strong steeds, dashed furiously together. A desperate and sanguinary

hand-to-hand fight ensued, in which the physical superiority of the

Anglo-Saxons, guided by equal skill, and animated with equal valour,

was made decisively manifest. Back went the chosen cavalry of France;

and after them, in hot pursuit, spurred the English Guards. They went

forward as far and as fiercely as their comrades of the Union Brigade;

and, like them, the Household cavalry suffered severely before they

regained the British position, after their magnificent charge and

adventurous pursuit.

Napoleon's grand effort to break the English left centre had thus

completely failed; and his right wing was seriously weakened by the

heavy loss which it had sustained. Hougoumont was still being assailed,

and was still successfully resisting. Troops were now beginning to

appear at the edge of the horizon on Napoleon's right, which he too well

knew to be Prussian, though he endeavoured to persuade his followers

that they were Grouchy's men coming to their aid.

Grouchy was in fact now engaged at Wavre with his whole force, against

Thielmam's single Prussian corps, while the other three corps of the

Prussian army were moving without opposition, save from the difficulties

of the ground, upon Waterloo. Grouchy believed, on the 17th, and caused

Napoleon to believe, that the Prussian army was retreating by lines of

march remote from Waterloo upon Namur and Maestricht. Napoleon learned

only on the 18th, that there were Prussians in Wavre, and felt jealous

about the security of his own right. He accordingly, before he attacked

the English, sent Grouchy orders to engage the Prussians at Wavre

without delay, AND TO APPROACH THE MAIN FRENCH ARMY, SO AS TO UNITE HIS

COMMUNICATIONS WITH THE EMPEROR'S. Grouchy entirely neglected this last

part of his instructions; and in attacking the Prussians whom he found

at Wavre, he spread his force more and more towards his right, that is

to say, in the direction most remote from Napoleon. He thus knew nothing

of Blucher's and Bulow's flank march upon Waterloo, till six in the

evening of the 18th, when he received a note which Soult by Napoleon's

orders had sent off from the field of battle at Waterloo at one o'clock,

to inform Grouchy that Bulow was coming over the heights of St. Lambert,

on the Emperor's right flank, and directing Grouchy to approach and join

the main army instantly, and crush Bulow EN FLAGRANT DELIT. It was then

too late for Grouchy to obey; but it is remarkable that as early as noon

on the 18th, and while Grouchy had not proceeded as far as Wavre, he

and his suite heard, the sound of heavy cannonading In the direction

of Planchenoit and Mont St. Jean. General Gerard, who was with Grouchy,

implored him to march towards the cannonade, and join his operations

with those of Napoleon, who was evidently engaged with the English.

Grouchy refused to do so, or even to detach part of his force in that

direction. He said that his instructions were to fight the Prussians

at Wavre. He marched upon Wavre and fought for the rest of the day

with Thielman accordingly, while Blucher and Bulow were attacking the

Emperor.

[I have heard the remark made that Grouchy twice had in his hands the

power of changing the destinies of Europe, and twice wanted nerve to

act: first when he flinched from landing the French army at Bantry Bay

in 1796 (he was second in command to Hoche, whose ship was blown back

by a storm), and secondly, when he failed to lead his whole force from

Wavre to the scene of decisive conflict at Waterloo. But such were the

arrangements of the Prussian General, that even if Grouchy had marched

upon Waterloo, he would have been held in check by the nearest Prussian

corps, or certainly by the two nearest ones, while the rest proceeded

to join Wellington. This, however, would have diminished the number of

Prussians who appeared at Waterloo, and (what is still more important)

would have kept them back to a later hour.--See Siborne, vol i. p. 323,

and Gleig, p. 142.

There are some very valuable remarks on this subject in the 70th No. of

the QUARTERLY in an article on the "Life of Blucher," usually attributed

to Sir Francis Head. The Prussian writer, General Clausewitz, is there

cited as "expressing a positive opinion, in which every military critic

but a Frenchman must concur, that, even had the whole of Grouchy's

force been at Napoleon's disposal, the Duke had nothing to fear pending

Blucher's arrival.

"The Duke is often talked of as having exhausted his reserves in the

action. This is another gross error, which Clausewitz has thoroughly

disposed of. He enumerates the tenth British Brigade, the division of

Chasse, and the cavalry of Collaert, as having been little or not at all

engaged; and he might have also added two brigades of light cavalry."

The fact, also, that Wellington did not at any part of the day order up

Prince Frederick's corps from Hal, is a conclusive proof that the Duke

was not so distressed as some writers have represented. Hal is not ten

miles from the field of Waterloo.]

Napoleon had witnessed with bitter disappointment the rout of his

troops,--foot, horse, and artillery,--which attacked the left centre

of the English, and the obstinate resistance which the garrison of

Hougoumont opposed to all the exertions of his left wing. He now

caused the batteries along the line of high ground held by him to be

strengthened, and for some time an unremitting and most destructive

cannonade raged across the valley, to the partial cessation of other

conflict. But the superior fire of the French artillery, though it

weakened, could not break the British line, and more close and summary

measures were requisite.

It was now about half-past three o'clock; and though Wellington's army

had suffered severely by the unremitting cannonade, and in the late

desperate encounter, no part of the British position had been forced.

Napoleon determined therefore to try what effect he could produce on the

British centre and right by charges of his splendid cavalry, brought on

in such force that the Duke's cavalry could not check them. Fresh troops

were at the same time sent to assail La Haye Sainte and Hougoumont, the

possession of these posts being the Emperor's unceasing object. Squadron

after squadron of the French cuirassiers accordingly ascended the slopes

on the Duke's right, and rode forward with dauntless courage against

the batteries of the British artillery in that part of the field. The

artillery-men were driven from their guns, and the cuirassiers cheered

loudly at their supposed triumph. But the Duke had formed his infantry

in squares, and the cuirassiers charged in vain against the impenetrable

hedges of bayonets, while the fire from the inner ranks of the squares

told with terrible effect on their squadrons. Time after time they rode

forward with invariably the same result: and as they receded from each

attack the British artillerymen rushed forward from the centres of

the squares, where they had taken refuge, and plied their guns on the

retiring horsemen. Nearly the whole of Napoleon's magnificent body of

heavy cavalry was destroyed in these fruitless attempts upon the British

right. But in another part of the field fortune favoured him for a time.

Two French columns of infantry from Donzelot's division took La Haye

Sainte between six and seven o'clock, and the means were now given for

organizing another formidable attack on the centre of the Allies.

["On came the whirlwind--like the last

But fiercest sweep of tempest blast--

On came the whirlwind--steel-gleams broke

Like lightning through the rolling smoke;

The war was waked anew,

Three hundred cannon-mouths roar'd loud,

And from their throats, with flash and cloud,

Their showers of iron threw.

Beneath their fire in full career,

Rush'd on the ponderous cuirassier,

The lancer couch'd his ruthless spear,

And hurrying as to havoc near,

The cohorts' eagles flew.

In one dark torrent, broad and strong,

The advancing onset roll'd along,

Forth harbinger'd by fierce acclaim,

That, from the shroud of smoke and flame,

Peal'd wildly the imperial name.

"But on the British heart were lost

The terrors of the charging host;

For not an eye the storm that view'd

Changed its proud glance of fortitude,

Nor was one forward footstep staid,

As dropp'd the dying and the dead.

Fast as their ranks the thunders tear,

Fast they renew'd each serried square;

And on the wounded and the slain

Closed their diminish'd files again,

Till from their line scarce spears' lengths three,

Emerging from the smoke they see

Helmet, and plume, and panoply,--

Then waked their fire at once!

Each musketeer's revolving knell,

As fast, as regularly fell,

As when they practise to display

Their discipline on festal day.

Then down went helm and lance,

Down were the eagle banners sent,

Down reeling steeds and riders went,

Corslets were pierced, and pennons rent;

And, to augment the fray,

Wheeled full against their staggering flanks,

The English horsemen's foaming ranks

Forced their resistless way.

Then to the musket-knell succeeds

The clash of swords--the neigh of steeds--

As plies the smith his clanging trade,

Against the cuirass rang the blade;

And while amid their close array

The well-served cannon rent their way,

And while amid their scatter'd band

Raged the fierce rider's bloody brand,

Recoil'd in common rout and fear,

Lancer and guard and cuirassier,

Horseman and foot,--a mingled host,

Their leaders fall'n, their standards lost."--SCOTT.]

There was no time to be lost--Blucher and Bulow were beginning to press

hard upon the French right. As early as five o'clock, Napoleon had been

obliged to detach Lobau's infantry and Domont's horse to check these new

enemies. They succeeded in doing so for a time; but as larger numbers

of the Prussians came on the field, they turned Lobau's right flank, and

sent a strong force to seize the village of Planchenoit, which, it will

be remembered, lay in the rear of the French right.

The design of the Allies was not merely to prevent Napoleon from

advancing upon Brussels, but to cut off his line of retreat and utterly

destroy his army. The defence of Planchenoit therefore became absolutely

essential for the safety of the French, and Napoleon was obliged to send

his Young Guard to occupy that village, which was accordingly held

by them with great gallantry against the reiterated assaults of the

Prussian left, under Bulow. Three times did the Prussians fight their

way into Planchenoit, and as often did the French drive them out: the

contest was maintained with the fiercest desperation on both sides,

such being the animosity between the two nations that quarter was seldom

given or even asked. Other Prussian forces were now appearing on the

field nearer to the English left; whom also Napoleon kept in check, by

troops detached for that purpose. Thus a large part of the French army

was now thrown back on a line at right angles with the line of that

portion which still confronted and assailed the English position. But

this portion was now numerically inferior to the force under the Duke

of Wellington, which Napoleon had been assailing throughout the day,

without gaining any other advantage than the capture of La Haye Sainte.

It is true that, owing to the gross misconduct of the greater part of

the Dutch and Belgian troops, the Duke was obliged to rely exclusively

on his English and German soldiers, and the ranks of these had been

fearfully thinned; but the survivors stood their ground heroically, and

opposed a resolute front to every forward movement of their enemies.

On no point of the British line was the pressure more severe than on

Halkett's brigade in the right centre which was composed of battalions

of the 30th, the 33d, the 69th, and the 73d British regiments. We

fortunately can quote from the journal of a brave officer of the 30th, a

narrative of what took place in this part of the field. [This excellent

journal was published in the "United Service Magazine" during the year

1852.] The late Major Macready served at Waterloo in the light company

of the 30th. The extent of the peril and the carnage which Halkett's

brigade had to encounter, may be judged of by the fact that this light

company marched into the field three officers and fifty-one men, and

that at the end of the battle they stood one officer and ten men. Major

Macready's blunt soldierly account of what he actually saw and felt,

gives a far better idea of the terrific scene, than can be gained from

the polished generalisations which the conventional style of history

requires, or even from the glowing stanzas of the poet. During the

earlier part of the day Macready and his light company were thrown

forward as skirmishers in front of the brigade; but when the French

cavalry commenced their attacks on the British right centre, he and his

comrades were ordered back. The brave soldier thus himself describes

what passed:

"Before the commencement of this attack our company and the Grenadiers

of the 73d were skirmishing briskly in the low ground, covering our

guns, and annoying those of the enemy. The line of tirailleurs

opposed to us was not stronger than our own, but on a sudden they were

reinforced by numerous bodies, and several guns began playing on us with

canister. Our poor fellows dropped very fast, and Colonel Vigoureux,

Rumley, and Pratt, were carried off badly wounded in about two minutes.

I was now commander of our company. We stood under this hurricane of

small shot till Halkett sent to order us in, and I brought away about a

third of the light bobs; the rest were killed or wounded, and I really

wonder how one of them escaped. As our bugler was killed, I shouted

and made signals to move by the left, in order to avoid the fire of our

guns, and to put as good a face upon the business as possible.

"When I reached Lloyd's abandoned guns, I stood near them for about

a minute to contemplate the scene: it was grand beyond description.

Hougoumont and its wood sent up a broad flame through the dark masses

of smoke that overhung the field; beneath this cloud the French were

indistinctly visible. Here a waving mass of long red feathers could be

seen; there, gleams as from a sheet of steel showed that the cuirassiers

were moving; 400 cannon were belching forth fire and death on every

side; the roaring and shouting were indistinguishably commixed--together

they gave me an idea of a labouring volcano. Bodies of infantry and

cavalry were pouring down on us, and it was time to leave contemplation,

so I moved towards our columns, which were standing up in square. Our

regiment and 73d formed one, and 33d and 69th another; to our right

beyond them were the Guards, and on our left the Hanoverians and German

legion of our division. As I entered the rear face of our square I

had to step over a body, and looking down, recognised Harry Beers, an

officer of our Grenadiers, who about an hour before shook hands with me,

laughing, as I left the columns. I was on the usual terms of military

intimacy with poor Harry--that is to say, if either of us had died a

natural death, the other would have pitied him as a good fellow, and

smiled at his neighbour as he congratulated him on the step; but seeing

his herculean frame and animated countenance thus suddenly stiff and

motionless before me (I know not whence the feeling could originate, for

I had just seen my dearest friend drop, almost with indifference), the

tears started in my eyes as I sighed out, 'Poor Harry!' The tear was

not dry on my cheek when poor Harry was no longer thought of. In a few

minutes after, the enemy's cavalry galloped up and crowned the crest of

our position. Our guns were abandoned, and they formed between the two

brigades, about a hundred paces in our front. Their first charge was

magnificent. As soon as they quickened their trot into a gallop, the

cuirassiers bent their heads so that the peaks of their helmets looked

like vizors, and they seemed cased in armour from the plume to the

saddle. Not a shot was fired till they were within thirty yards, when

the word was given, and our men fired away at them. The effect was

magical. Through the smoke we could see helmets falling, cavaliers

starting from their seats with convulsive springs as they received our

balls, horses plunging and rearing in the agonies of fright and pain,

and crowds of the soldiery dismounted, part of the squadron in retreat,

but the more daring remainder backing their horses to force them on

our bayonets. Our fire soon disposed of these gentlemen. The main

body re-formed in our front, and rapidly and gallantly repeated their

attacks, In fact, from this time (about four o'clock) till near six, we

had a constant repetition of these brave but unavailing charges. There

was no difficulty in repulsing them, but our ammunition decreased

alarmingly. At length an artillery wagon galloped up, emptied two or

three casks of cartridges into the square, and we were all comfortable.

"The best cavalry is contemptible to a steady and well-supplied

infantry regiment; even our men saw this, and began to pity the useless

perseverance of their assailants, and, as they advanced, would growl

out, 'Here come these fools again!' One of their superior officers tried

a RUSE DE GUERRE, by advancing and dropping his sword, as though he

surrendered; some of us were deceived by him, but Halkett ordered the

men to fire, and he coolly retired, saluting us. Their devotion was

invincible. One officer whom we had taken prisoner was asked what force

Napoleon might have in the field, and replied with a smile of mingled

derision and threatening, 'Vous verrez bientot sa force, messieurs.' A

private cuirassier was wounded and dragged into the square; his only cry

was, 'Tuez donc, tuez, tuez moi, soldats!' and as one of our men dropped

dead close to him, he seized his bayonet, and forced it into his own

neck; but this not despatching him, he raised up his cuirass, and

plunging the bayonet into his stomach, kept working it about till he

ceased to breathe.

"Though we constantly thrashed our steel-clad opponents, we found more

troublesome customers in the round shot and grape, which all this time

played on us with terrible effect, and fully avenged the cuirassiers.

Often as the volleys created openings in our square would the cavalry

dash on, but they were uniformly unsuccessful. A regiment on our

right seemed sadly disconcerted, and at one moment was in considerable

confusion. Halkett rode out to them, and seizing their colour, waved

it over his head, and restored them to something like order, though not

before his horse was shot under him. At the height of their unsteadiness

we got the order to 'right face' to move to their assistance; some of

the men mistook it for 'right about face,' and faced accordingly, when

old Major M'Laine, 73d, called out, 'No, my boys, its "right face;"

you'll never hear the right about as long as a French bayonet is in

front of you!' In a few moments he was mortally wounded. A regiment of

light Dragoons, by their facings either the 16th or 23d, came up to our

left and charged the cuirassiers. We cheered each other as they passed

us; they did all they could, but were obliged to retire after a few

minutes at the sabre. A body of Belgian cavalry advanced for the same

purpose, but on passing our square, they stopped short. Our noble

Halkett rode out to them and offered to charge at their head; it was of

no use; the Prince of Orange came up and exhorted them to do their duty,

but in vain. They hesitated till a few shots whizzed through them, when

they turned about, and galloped like fury, or, rather, like fear. As

they passed the right face of our square the men, irritated by their

rascally conduct, unanimously took up their pieces and fired a volley

into them, and 'many a good fellow was destroyed so cowardly.'

"The enemy's cavalry were by this time nearly disposed of, and as they

had discovered the inutility of their charges, they commenced annoying

us by a spirited and well-directed carbine fire. While we were employed

in this manner it was impossible to see farther than the columns on our

right and left, but I imagine most of the army were similarly situated:

all the British and Germans were doing their duty. About six o'clock

I perceived some artillery trotting up our hill, which I knew by their

caps to belong to the Imperial Guard. I had hardly mentioned this to

a brother officer when two guns unlimbered within seventy paces of us,

and, by their first discharge of grape, blew seven men into the centre

of the square. They immediately reloaded, and kept up a constant and

destructive fire. It was noble to see our fellows fill up the gaps after

every discharge. I was much distressed at this moment; having ordered up

three of my light bobs, they had hardly taken their station when two

of them fell horribly lacerated. One of them looked up in my face and

uttered a sort of reproachful groan, and I involuntarily exclaimed, 'I

couldn't help it.' We would willingly have charged these guns, but, had

we deployed, the cavalry that flanked them would have made an example of

us.

"The 'vivida vis animi'--the glow which fires one upon entering into

action--had ceased; it was now to be seen which side had most bottom,

and would stand killing longest. The Duke visited us frequently at this

momentous period; he was coolness personified. As he crossed the rear

face of our square a shell fell amongst our grenadiers, and he checked

his horse to see its effect. Some men were blown to pieces by the

explosion, and he merely stirred the rein of his charger, apparently

as little concerned at their fate as at his own danger. No leader ever

possessed so fully the confidence of his soldiery: wherever he appeared,

a murmur of 'Silence--stand to your front--here's the Duke,' was

heard through the column, and then all was steady as on a parade. His

aides-de-camp, Colonels Canning and Gordon, fell near our square, and

the former died within it. As he came near us late in the evening,

Halkett rode out to him and represented our weak state, begging his

Grace to afford us a little support. 'It's impossible, Halkett,' said

he. And our general replied, 'If so, sir, you may depend on the brigade

to a man!'"

All accounts of the battle show that the Duke was ever present at each

spot where danger seemed the most pressing; inspiriting his men by a few

homely and good-humoured words; and restraining their impatience to be

led forward to attack in their turn.--"Hard pounding this, gentlemen: we

will try who can pound the longest," was his remark to a battalion, on

which the storm from the French guns was pouring with peculiar fury.

Riding up to one of the squares, which had been dreadfully weakened, and

against which a fresh attack of French cavalry was coming, he called to

them: "Stand firm, my lads; what will they say of this in England?" As

he rode along another part of the line where the men had for some time

been falling fast beneath the enemy's cannonade, without having any

close fighting, a murmur reached his ear of natural eagerness to advance

and do something more than stand still to be shot at. The Duke called to

them: "Wait a little longer, my lads, and you shall have your wish." The

men were instantly satisfied and steady. It was, indeed, indispensable

for the Duke to bide his time. The premature movement of a single corps

down from the British line of heights, would have endangered the whole

position, and have probably made Waterloo a second Hastings.

But the Duke inspired all under him with his own spirit of patient

firmness. When other generals besides Halkett sent to him, begging for

reinforcements, or for leave to withdraw corps which were reduced to

skeletons, the answer was the same: "It is impossible; you must hold

your ground to the last man, and all will be well." He gave a similar

reply to some of his staff; who asked instructions from him, so that,

in the event of his falling, his successor might follow out his plan. He

answered, "My plan is simply to stand my ground here to the last man."

His personal danger was indeed imminent throughout the day; and though

he escaped without injury to himself or horse, one only of his numerous

staff was equally fortunate.

["As far as the French accounts would lead us to infer, it appears that

the losses among Napoleon's staff were comparatively trifling. On this

subject perhaps the marked contrast afforded by the following anecdotes,

which have been related to me on excellent authority, may tend to throw

some light. At one period of the battle, when the Duke was surrounded by

several of his staff, it was very evident that the group had become the

object of the fire of a French battery. The shot fell fast about them,

generally striking and turning up the ground on which they stood. Their

horses became restive and 'Copenhagen' himself so fidgetty, that the

Duke, getting impatient, and having reasons for remaining on the

spot, said to those about him, 'Gentlemen we are rather too close

together--better to divide a little.' Subsequently, at another point of

the line, an officer of artillery came up to the Duke, and stated that

he had a distinct view of Napoleon, attended by his staff; that he had

the guns of his battery well pointed in that direction, and was prepared

to fire. His Grace instantly and emphatically exclaimed, 'No! no! I'll

not allow it. It is not the business of commanders to be firing upon

each other.'"--Siborne, vol. ii. p. 263. How different is this from

Napoleon's conduct at the battle of Dresden, when he personally directed

the fire of the battery which, as he thought, killed the Emperor

Alexander, and actually killed Moreau.]

Napoleon had stationed himself during the battle on a little hillock

near La Belle Alliance, in the centre of the French position. Here he

was seated, with a large table from the neighbouring farm-house before

him, on which maps and plans were spread; and thence with his telescope

he surveyed the various points of the field. Soult watched his orders

close at his left hand, and his staff was grouped on horseback a

few paces in the rear. ["Souvenirs Militaires," par Col.

Lemonnier-Delafosse, p. 407. "Ouvrard, who attended Napoleon as chief

commissary of the French army on that occasion, told me that Napoleon

was suffering from a complaint which made it very painful for him to

ride."--Lord Ellesmere, p. 47.] Here he remained till near the close

of the day, preserving the appearance at least of calmness, except some

expressions of irritation which escaped him, when Ney's attack on the

British left centre was defeated. But now that the crisis of the battle

was evidently approaching, he mounted a white Persian charger, which

he rode in action because the troops easily recognised him by the horse

colour. He had still the means of effecting a retreat. His Old Guard

had yet taken no part in the action. Under cover of it, he might have

withdrawn his shattered forces and retired upon the French frontier. But

this would only have given the English and Prussians the opportunity

of completing their junction; and he knew that other armies were fast

coming up to aid them in a march upon Paris, if he should succeed in

avoiding an encounter with them, and retreating upon the capital. A

victory at Waterloo was his only alternative from utter ruin, and he

determined to employ his Guard in one bold stroke more to make that

victory his own.

Between seven and eight o'clock, the infantry of the Old Guard was

formed into two columns, on the declivity near La Belle Alliance. Ney

was placed at their head. Napoleon himself rode forward to a spot by

which his veterans were to pass; and, as they approached, he raised his

arm, and pointed to the position of the Allies, as if to tell them

that their path lay there. They answered with loud cries of "Vive

l'Empereur!" and descended the hill from their own side, into that

"valley of the shadow of death" while the batteries thundered with

redoubled vigour over their heads upon the British line. The line of

march of the columns of the Guard was directed between Hougoumont and La

Haye Sainte, against the British right centre; and at the same time the

French under Donzelot, who had possession of La Haye Sainte, commenced

a fierce attack upon the British centre, a little more to its left. This

part of the battle has drawn less attention than the celebrated attack

of the Old Guard; but it formed the most perilous crisis for the allied

army; and if the Young Guard had been there to support Donzelot, instead

of being engaged with the Prussians at Planchenoit, the consequences to

the Allies in that part of the field must have been most serious. The

French tirailleurs, who were posted in clouds in La Haye Sainte, and

the sheltered spots near it, picked off the artillerymen of the English

batteries near them: and taking advantage of the disabled state of the

English guns, the French brought some field-pieces up to La Haye Sainte,

and commenced firing grape from them on the infantry of the Allies, at

a distance of not more than a hundred paces. The allied infantry here

consisted of some German brigades, who were formed in squares, as it was

believed that Donzelot had cavalry ready behind La Haye Sainte to charge

them with, if they left that order of formation. In this state the

Germans remained for some time with heroic fortitude, though the

grape-shot was tearing gaps in their ranks and the side of one square

was literally blown away by one tremendous volley which the French

gunners poured into it. The Prince of Orange in vain endeavoured to lead

some Nassau troops to the aid of the brave Germans. The Nassauers would

not or could not face the French; and some battalions of Brunswickers,

whom the Duke of Wellington had ordered up as a reinforcement, at first

fell back, until the Duke in person rallied them, and led them on.

Having thus barred the farther advance of Donzelot, the Duke galloped

off to the right to head his men who were exposed to the attack of the

Imperial Guard. He had saved one part of his centre from being routed;

but the French had gained ground and kept it; and the pressure on the

allied line in front of La Haye Sainte was fearfully severe, until it

was relieved by the decisive success which the British in the right

centre achieved over the columns of the Guard.

The British troops on the crest of that part of the position, which the

first column of Napoleon's Guards assailed, were Maitland's brigade of

British Guards, having Adams's brigade (which had been brought forward

during the action) on their right. Maitland's men were lying down, in

order to avoid as far as possible the destructive effect of the French

artillery, which kept up an unremitting fire from the opposite heights,

until the first column of the Imperial Guard had advanced so far up

the slope towards the British position, that any further firing of the

French artillerymen would have endangered their own comrades. Meanwhile

the British guns were not idle; but shot and shell ploughed fast through

the ranks of the stately array of veterans that still moved imposingly

on. Several of the French superior officers were at its head. Ney's

horse was shot under him, but he still led the way on foot, sword in

hand. The front of the massive column now was on the ridge of the hill.

To their surprise they saw no troops before them. All they could discern

through the smoke was a small band of mounted officers. One of them was

the Duke himself. The French advanced to about fifty yards from where

the British Guards were lying down when the voice of one of the group of

British officers was heard calling, as if to the ground before him, "Up,

Guards, and at them!" It was the Duke who gave the order; and at the

words, as if by magic, up started before them a line of the British

Guards four deep, and in the most compact and perfect order. They poured

an instantaneous volley upon the head of the French column, by which

no less than three hundred of those chosen veterans are said to have

fallen. The French officers rushed forwards; and, conspicuous in front

of their men, attempted to deploy them into a more extended line, so as

to enable them to reply with effect to the British fire. But Maitland's

brigade kept showering in volley after volley with deadly rapidity. The

decimated column grew disordered in its vain efforts to expand itself

into a more efficient formation. The right word was given at the right

moment to the British for the bayonet-charge, and the brigade sprang

forward with a loud cheer against their dismayed antagonists. In an

instant the compact mass of the French spread out into a rabble, and

they fled back down the hill, pursued by Maitland's men, who, however,

returned to their position in time to take part in the repulse of the

second column of the Imperial Guard.

This column also advanced with great spirit and firmness under the

cannonade which was opened on it; and passing by the eastern wall of

Hougoumont, diverged slightly to the right as it moved up the slope

towards the British position, so as to approach nearly the same spot

where the first column had surmounted the height, and been defeated.

This enabled the British regiments of Adams's brigade to form a line

parallel to the left flank of the French column; so that while the front

of this column of French Guards had to encounter the cannonade of the

British batteries, and the musketry of Maitlands Guards, its left flank

was assailed with a destructive fire by a four-deep body of British

infantry, extending all along it. In such a position all the bravery

and skill of the French veterans were vain. The second column, like its

predecessor, broke and fled, taking at first a lateral direction along

the front of the British line towards the rear of La Haye Sainte, and

so becoming blended with the divisions of French infantry, which under

Donzelot had been assailing the Allies so formidably in that quarter.

The sight of the Old Guard broken and in flight checked the ardour which

Donzelot's troops had hitherto displayed. They, too, began to waver.

Adams's victorious brigade was pressing after the flying Guard, and now

cleared away the assailants of the allied centre. But the battle was

not yet won. Napoleon had still some battalions in reserve near La Belle

Alliance. He was rapidly rallying the remains of the first column of his

Guards, and he had collected into one body the remnants of the various

corps of cavalry, which had suffered so severely in the earlier part of

the day. The Duke instantly formed the bold resolution of now himself

becoming the assailant, and leading his successful though enfeebled army

forward, while the disheartening effect of the repulse of the Imperial

Guard on the rest of the French army was still strong, and before

Napoleon and Ney could rally the beaten veterans themselves for another

and a fiercer charge. As the close approach of the Prussians now

completely protected the Duke's left, he had drawn some reserves of

horse from that quarter, and he had a brigade of Hussars under Vivian

fresh and ready at hand. Without a moment's hesitation he launched these

against the cavalry near La Belie Alliance. The charge was as successful

as it was daring: and as there was now no hostile cavalry to check

the British infantry in a forward movement, the Duke gave the

long-wished-for command for a general advance of the army along the

whole line upon the foe. It was now past eight o'clock, and for nearly

nine deadly hours had the British and German regiments stood unflinching

under the fire of artillery, the charge of cavalry, and every variety of

assault, which the compact columns or the scattered tirailleurs of the

enemy's infantry could inflict. As they joyously sprang forward against

the discomfited masses of the French, the setting sun broke through the

clouds which had obscured the sky during the greater part of the day,

and glittered on the bayonets of the Allies, while they poured down into

the valley and towards the heights that were held by the foe. The Duke

himself was among the foremost in the advance, and personally directed

the movements against each body of the French that essayed resistance.

He rode in front of Adams's brigade, cheering it forward, and even

galloped among the most advanced of the British skirmishers,

speaking joyously to the men, and receiving their hearty shouts of

congratulation. The bullets of both friends and foes were whistling fast

round him; and one of the few survivors of his staff remonstrated with

him for thus exposing a life of such value. "Never mind," was the Duke's

answer;--"Never mind, let them fire away; the battle's won, and my life

is of no consequence now." And, indeed, almost the whole of the French

host was now in irreparable confusion. The Prussian army was coming more

and more rapidly forwards on their right; and the Young Guard, which

had held Planchenoit so bravely, was at last compelled to give way. Some

regiments of the Old Guard in vain endeavoured to form in squares and

stem the current. They were swept away, and wrecked among the waves of

the flyers. Napoleon had placed himself in one of these squares: Marshal

Soult, Generals Bertrand, Drouot, Corbineau, De Flahaut, and Gourgaud,

were with him. The Emperor spoke of dying on the field, but Soult seized

his bridle and turned his charger round, exclaiming, "Sire, are not the

enemy already lucky enough?" [Colonel Lemonnier-Delafosse, "Memoires,"

p. 388. The Colonel states that he heard these details from General

Gourgaud himself. The English reader will be reminded of Charles I.'s

retreat from Naseby.] With the greatest difficulty, and only by the

utmost exertion of the devoted officers round him, Napoleon cleared the

throng of fugitives, and escaped from the scene of the battle and the

war, which he and France had lost past all recovery. Meanwhile the Duke

of Wellington still rode forward with the van of his victorious troops,

until he reined up on the elevated ground near Rossomme. The daylight

was now entirely gone; but the young moon had risen, and the light which

it cast, aided by the glare from the burning houses and other buildings

in the line of the flying French and pursuing Prussians, enabled the

Duke to assure himself that his victory was complete. He then rode back

along the Charleroi road toward Waterloo: and near La Belle Alliance he

met Marshal Blucher. Warm were the congratulations that were exchanged

between the Allied Chiefs. It was arranged that the Prussians should

follow up the pursuit, and give the French no chance of rallying.

Accordingly the British army, exhausted by its toils and sufferings

during that dreadful day, did not advance beyond the heights which the

enemy had occupied. But the Prussians drove the fugitives before them

in merciless chase throughout the night. Cannon, baggage, and all the

materiel of the army were abandoned by the French; and many thousands

of the infantry threw away their arms to facilitate their escape. The

ground was strewn for miles with the wrecks of their host. There was no

rear-guard; nor was even the semblance of order attempted, an attempt

at resistance was made at the bridge and village of Genappe, the first

narrow pass through which the bulk of the French retired. The situation

was favourable; and a few resolute battalions, if ably commanded, might

have held their pursuers at bay there for some considerable time. But

despair and panic were now universal in the beaten army. At the first

sound of the Prussian drums and bugles, Genappe was abandoned, and

nothing thought of but headlong flight. The Prussians, under General

Gneisenau, still followed and still slew; nor even when the Prussian

infantry stopped in sheer exhaustion, was the pursuit given up.

Gneisenau still pushed on with the cavalry; and by an ingenious

stratagem, made the French believe that his infantry were still close on

them, and scared them from every spot where they attempted to pause and

rest. He mounted one of his drummers on a horse which had been taken

from the captured carriage of Napoleon, and made him ride along with

the pursuing cavalry, and beat the drum whenever they came on any large

number of the French. The French thus fled, and the Prussians pursued

through Quatre Bras, and even over the heights of Frasne; and when at

length Gneisenau drew bridle, and halted a little beyond Frasne with the

scanty remnant of keen hunters who had kept up the chace with him to

the last, the French were scattered through Gosselies, Marchiennes,

and Charleroi; and were striving to regain the left bank of the river

Sambre, which they had crossed in such pomp and pride not a hundred

hours before.

Part of the French left wing endeavoured to escape from the field

without blending with the main body of the fugitives who thronged

the Genappe causeway. A French officer, who was among those who thus

retreated across the country westward of the high-road, has

vividly described what he witnessed and what he suffered. Colonel

Lemonnier-Delafosse served in the campaign of 1815 in General Foy's

staff, and was consequently in that part of the French army at Waterloo,

which acted against Hougoumont and the British right wing. When the

column of the Imperial Guard made their great charge at the end of

the day, the troops of Foy's division advanced in support of them, and

Colonel Lemonnier-Delafosse describes the confident hopes of victory

and promotion with which he marched to that attack, and the fearful

carnage and confusion of the assailants, amid which he was helplessly

hurried back by his flying comrades. He then narrates the closing scene,

[Col. Lemonnier-Delafosse, "Memoires," pp. 385-405. There are omissions

and abridgments in the translation which I have given.]:

"Near one of the hedges of Hougoumont farm, without even a drummer to

beat the RAPPEL, we succeeded in rallying under the enemy's fire 300

men: they were nearly all that remained of our splendid division,

Thither came together a band of generals. There was Reille, whose horse

had been shot under him; there were D'Erlon, Bachelu, Foy, Jamin, and

others. All were gloomy and sorrowful, like vanquished men. Their words

were,--'Here is all that is left of my corps, of my division, of

my brigade. I, myself.' We had seen the fall of Duhesme, of

Pelet-de-Morvan, of Michel--generals who had found a glorious death. My

General, Foy, had his shoulder pierced through by a musket-ball: and out

of his whole staff two officers only were left to him, Cahour Duhay and

I. Fate had spared me in the midst of so many dangers, though the first

charger I rode had been shot and had fallen on me.

"The enemy's horse were coming down on us, and our little group was

obliged to retreat. 'What had happened to our division of the left wing

had taken place all along the line. The movement of the hostile cavalry,

which inundated the whole plain, had demoralised our soldiers, who

seeing all regular retreat of the army cut off, strove each man to

effect one for himself. At each instant the road became more encumbered.

Infantry, cavalry, and artillery, were pressing along pell-mell: jammed

together like a solid mass. Figure to yourself 40,000 men struggling and

thrusting themselves along a single causeway. We could not take that way

without destruction; so the generals who had collected together near the

Hougoumont hedge dispersed across the fields. General Foy alone remained

with the 300 men whom he had gleaned from the field of battle, and

marched at their head. Our anxiety was to withdraw from the scene of

action without being confounded with the fugitives. Our general wished

to retreat like a true soldier. Seeing three lights in the southern

horizon, like beacons, General Foy asked me what I thought of the

position of each. I answered, 'The first to the left is Genappe, the

second is at Bois de Bossu, near the farm of Quatre Bras; the third is

at Gosselies.' 'Let us march on the second one, then,' replied Foy, 'and

let no obstacle stop us--take the head of the column, and do not lose

sight of the guiding light.' Such was his order, and I strove to obey.

"After all the agitation and the incessant din of a long day of battle,

how imposing was the stillness of that night! We proceeded on our sad

and lonely march. We were a prey to the most cruel reflections, we were

humiliated, we were hopeless; but not a word of complaint was heard. We

walked silently as a troop of mourners, and it might have been said

that we were attending the funeral of our country's glory. Suddenly the

stillness was broken by a challenge,--'QUI VIVE?' 'France!' 'Kellerman!'

'Foy!' 'Is it you, General? come nearer to us.' At that moment we were

passing over a little hillock, at the foot of which was a hut, in which

Kellerman and some of his officers had halted. They came out to join

as Foy said to me, 'Kellerman knows the country: he has been along here

before with his cavalry; we had better follow him.' But we found that

the direction which Kellerman chose was towards the first light, towards

Genappe. That led to the causeway which our general rightly wished to

avoid I went to the left to reconnoitre, and was soon convinced that

such was the case. It was then that I was able to form a full idea of

the disorder of a routed army. What a hideous spectacle! The mountain

torrent, that uproots and whirls along with it every momentary obstacle,

is a feeble image of that heap of men, of horses, of equipages, rushing

one upon another; gathering before the least obstacle which dams up

their way for a few seconds, only to form a mass which overthrows

everything in the path which it forces for itself. Woe to him whose

footing failed him in that deluge! He was crushed, trampled to death! I

returned and told my general what I had seen, and he instantly abandoned

Kellerman, and resumed his original line of march.

"Keeping straight across the country over fields and the rough thickets,

we at last arrived at the Bois de Bossu, where we halted. My General

said to me, 'Go to the farm of Quatre Bras and announce that we are

here. The Emperor or Soult must be there. Ask for orders, and recollect

that I am waiting here for you. The lives of these men depend on your

exactness.' To reach the farm I was obliged to cross the high road: I

was on horseback, but nevertheless was borne away by the crowd that fled

along the road, and it was long are I could extricate myself and reach

the farmhouse. General Lobau was there with his staff, resting in

fancied security. They thought that their troops had halted there; but,

though a halt had been attempted, the men had soon fled forwards, like

their comrades of the rest of the army. The shots of the approaching

Prussians were now heard; and I believe that General Lobau was taken

prisoner in that farmhouse. I left him to rejoin my general, which I

did with difficulty. I found him alone. His men, as they came near the

current of flight, were infected with the general panic, and fled also.

"What was to be done? Follow that crowd of runaways? General Foy would

not hear of it. There were five of us still with him, all officers. He

had been wounded at about five in the afternoon, and the wound had not

been dressed. He suffered severely; but his moral courage was unbroken.

'Let us keep,' he said, 'a line parallel to the high road, and work our

way hence as we best can.' A foot-track was before us, and we followed

it.

"The moon shone out brightly, and revealed the full wretchedness of the

TABLEAU which met our eyes. A brigadier and four cavalry soldiers, whom

we met with, formed our escort. We marched on; and, as the noise grew

more distant, I thought that we were losing the parallel of the highway.

Finding that we had the moon more and more on the left, I felt sure of

this, and mentioned it to the General. Absorbed in thought, he made me

no reply. We came in front of a windmill, and endeavoured to procure

some information; but we could not gain an entrance, or make any one

answer, and we continued our nocturnal march. At last we entered a

village, but found every door closed against us, and were obliged to use

threats in order to gain admission into a single house. The poor woman

to whom it belonged, more dead than alive, received us as if we had been

enemies. Before asking where we were, 'Food, give as some food!' was our

cry. Bread and butter and beer were brought, and soon disappeared before

men who had fasted for twenty-four hours. A little revived, we ask,

'Where are we? what is the name of this village?'--'Vieville.'

"On looking at the map, I saw that in coming to that village we had

leaned too much to the right, and that we were in the direction of Mons.

In order to reach the Sambre at the bridge of Marchiennes, we had four

leagues to traverse; and there was scarcely time to march the distance

before daybreak. I made a villager act as our guide, and bound him by

his arm to my stirrup. He led us through Roux to Marchiennes. The

poor fellow ran alongside of my horse the whole way. It was cruel, but

necessary to compel him, for we had not an instant to spare. At six in

the morning we entered Marchiennes.

"Marshal Ney was there. Our general went to see him, and to ask what

orders he had to give. Ney was asleep; and, rather than rob him of

the first repose he had had for four days, our General returned to us

without seeing him. And, indeed, what orders could Marshal Ney have

given? The whole army was crossing the Sambre, each man where and now he

chose; some at Charleroi, some at Marchiennes. We were about to do the

same thing. When once beyond the Sambre we might safely halt; and both

men and horses were in extreme need of rest. We passed through Thuin;

and finding a little copse near the road, we gladly sought its shelter.

While our horses grazed, we lay down and slept. How sweet was that sleep

after the fatigues of the long day of battle, and after the night of

retreat more painful still! We rested in the little copse till noon, and

sate there watching the wrecks of our army defile along the road before

us. It was a soul-harrowing sight! Yet the different arms of the service

had resumed a certain degree of order amid their disorder; and our

General, feeling his strength revive, resolved to follow a strong

column of cavalry which was taking the direction of Beaumont, about four

leagues off. We drew near Beaumont, when suddenly a regiment of horse

was seen debouching from a wood on our left. The column that we followed

shouted out, 'The Prussians! the Prussians!' and galloped off in utter

disorder. The troops that thus alarmed them were not a tenth part of

their number, and were in reality our own 8th Hussars, who wore

green uniforms. But the panic had been brought even thus far from the

battle-field, and the disorganized column galloped into Beaumont, which

was already crowded with our infantry. We were obliged to follow that

DEBACLE. On entering Beaumont we chose a house of superior appearance,

and demanded of the mistress of it refreshments for the General. 'Alas!'

said the lady, 'this is the tenth General who has been to this house

since this morning. I have nothing left. Search, if you please, and

see.' Though unable to find food for the General, I persuaded him to

take his coat off and let me examine his wound. The bullet had gone

through the twists of the left epaulette, and penetrating the skin, had

run round the shoulder without injuring the bone. The lady of the house

made some lint for me; and without any great degree of surgical skill I

succeeded in dressing the wound.

"Being still anxious to procure some food for the General and

ourselves, if it were but a loaf of ammunition bread, I left the house

and rode out into the town. I saw pillage going on in every direction:

open caissons, stripped and half-broken, blocked up the streets. The

pavement was covered with plundered and torn baggage. Pillagers and

runaways, such were all the comrades I met with. Disgusted at them, I

strove, sword in hand, to stop one of the plunderers; but, more active

than I, he gave me a bayonet stab in my left arm, in which I fortunately

caught his thrust, which had been aimed full at my body. He disappeared

among the crowd, through which I could not force my horse. My spirit of

discipline had made me forget that in such circumstances the soldier is

a mere wild beast. But to be wounded by a fellow-countryman after

having passed unharmed through all the perils of Quatre Bras and

Waterloo!--this did seem hard, indeed. I was trying to return to General

Foy, when another horde of flyers burst into Beaumont, swept me into the

current of their flight, and hurried me out of the town with them. Until

I received my wound I had preserved my moral courage in full force; but

now, worn out with fatigue, covered with blood, and suffering

severe pain from the wound, I own that I gave way to the general

demoralisation, and let myself be inertly borne along with the rushing

mass. At last I reached Landrecies, though I know not how or when. But

I found there our Colonel Hurday, who had been left behind there in

consequence of an accidental injury from a carriage. He took me with

him to Paris, where I retired amid my family, and got cured of my wound,

knowing nothing of the rest of political and military events that were

taking place."

No returns ever were made of the amount of the French loss in the battle

of Waterloo; but it must have been immense, and may be partially judged

of by the amount of killed and wounded in the armies of the conquerors.

On this subject both the Prussian and British official evidence is

unquestionably full and authentic. The figures are terribly emphatic.

Of the army that fought under the Duke of Wellington nearly 15,000 men

were killed and wounded on this single day of battle. Seven thousand

Prussians also fell at Waterloo. At such a fearful price was the

deliverance of Europe purchased.

By none was the severity of that loss more keenly felt than by our great

deliverer himself. As may be seen in Major Macready's narrative, the

Duke, while the battle was raging, betrayed no sign of emotion at

the most ghastly casualties; but, when all was over, the sight of the

carnage with which the field was covered, and still more, the sickening

spectacle of the agonies of the wounded men who lay moaning in their

misery by thousands and tens of thousands, weighed heavily on the spirit

of the victor, as he rode back across the scene of strife. On reaching

his head-quarters in the village of Waterloo, the Duke inquired

anxiously after the numerous friends who had been round him in the

morning, and to whom he was warmly attached. Many he was told were dead;

others were lying alive, but mangled and suffering, in the houses

round him. It is in our hero's own words alone that his feelings can be

adequately told. In a letter written by him almost immediately after his

return from the field, he thus expressed himself:--"My heart is broken

by the terrible loss I have sustained in my old friends and companions,

and my poor soldiers. Believe me, nothing except a battle lost, can

be half so melancholy as a battle won; the bravery of my troops has

hitherto saved me from the greater evil; but to win such a battle as

this of Waterloo, at the expense of so many gallant friends, could only

be termed a heavy misfortune but for the result to the public."

It is not often that a successful General in modern warfare is called

on, like the victorious commander of the ancient Greek armies, to award

a prize of superior valour to one of his soldiers. Such was to some

extent the case with respect to the battle of Waterloo. In the August

of 1818, an English clergyman offered to confer a small annuity on some

Waterloo soldier, to be named by the Duke. [Siborne, vol. i. p. 391.]

The Duke requested Sir John Byng to choose a man from the 2d Brigade

of Guards, which had so highly distinguished itself in the defence of

Hougoumont. There were many gallant candidates, but the election fell

on Sergeant James Graham, of the light company of the Coldstreams. This

brave man had signalised himself, throughout the day, in the defence of

that important post, and especially in the critical struggle that

took place at the period when the French, who had gained the wood, the

orchard, and detached garden, succeeded in bursting open a gate of

the courtyard of the chateau itself, and rushed in in large masses,

confident of carrying all before them. A hand-to-hand fight, of the most

desperate character, was kept up between them and the Guards for a few

minutes; but at last the British bayonets prevailed. Nearly all the

Frenchmen who had forced their way in were killed on the spot; and,

as the few survivors ran back, five of the Guards, Colonel Macdonnell,

Captain Wyndham, Ensign Gooch, Ensign Hervey, and Sergeant Graham, by

sheer strength, closed the gate again, in spite of the efforts of the

French from without, and effectually barricaded it against further

assaults. Over and through the loopholed wall of the courtyard, the

English garrison now kept up a deadly fire of musketry, which was

fiercely answered by the French, who swarmed round the curtilage like

ravening wolves. Shells, too, from their batteries, were falling fast

into the besieged place, one of which set part of the mansion and some

of the out-buildings on fire. Graham, who was at this time standing

near Colonel Macdonnell at the wall, and who had shown the most perfect

steadiness and courage, now asked permission of his commanding officer

to retire for a moment. Macdonnell replied, "By all means, Graham; but

I wonder you should ask leave now." Graham answered, "I would not, sir,

only my brother is wounded, and he is in that out-building there, which

has just caught fire." Laying down his musket, Graham ran to the blazing

spot, lifted up his brother, and laid him in a ditch. Then he was back

at his post, and was plying his musket against the French again, before

his absence was noticed, except by his colonel.

Many anecdotes of individual prowess have been preserved: but of all

the brave men who were in the British army on that eventful day, none

deserve more honour for courage and indomitable resolution than Sir

Thomas Picton, who, as has been mentioned, fell in repulsing the great

attack of the French upon the British left centre. It was not until the

dead body was examined after the battle, that the full heroism of Picton

was discerned. He had been wounded on the 16th, at Quatre Bras, by a

musket-ball, which had broken two of his ribs, and caused also severe

internal injuries; but he had concealed the circumstance, evidently in

expectation that another and greater battle would be fought in a short

time, and desirous to avoid being solicited to absent himself from the

field. His body was blackened and swollen by the wound, which must have

caused severe and incessant pain; and it was marvellous how his spirit

had borne him up, and enabled him to take part in the fatigues and

duties of the field. The bullet which, on the 18th, killed the renowned

loader of "the fighting Division" of the Peninsula, entered the head

near the left temple, and passed through the brain; so that Picton's

death must have been instantaneous.

One of the most interesting narratives of personal adventure at

Waterloo, is that of Colonel Frederick Ponsonby, of the 12th Light

Dragoons, who was severely wounded when Vandeleur's brigade, to which he

belonged, attacked the French lancers, in order to bring off the Union

Brigade, which was retiring from its memorable charge. [See p. 361,

SUPRA.] The 12th, like those whom they rescued, advanced much further

against the French position than prudence warranted. Ponsonby, with many

others, was speared by a reserve of Polish lancers, and left for dead

on the field. It is well to refer to the description of what he suffered

(as he afterwards gave it, when almost miraculously recovered from his

numerous wounds), because his fate, or worse, was the fate of thousands

more; and because the narrative of the pangs of an individual, with whom

we can identify ourselves, always comes more home to us than a general

description of the miseries of whole masses. His tale may make us

remember what are the horrors of war as well as its glories. It is to

be remembered that the operations which he refers to, took place about

three o'clock in the day, and that the fighting went on for at least

five hours more. After describing how he and his men charged through the

French whom they first encountered, and went against other enemies, he

states:--

"We had no sooner passed them than we were ourselves attacked before

we could form, by about 300 Polish lancers, who had hastened to their

relief; the French artillery pouring in among us a heavy fire of grape,

though for one of our men they killed three of their own.

"In the MELEE I was almost instantly disabled in both arms, losing

first my sword, and then my reins, and followed by a few men, who were

presently cut down, no quarter being allowed, asked or given, I was

carried along by my horse, till, receiving a blow from a sabre, I fell

senseless on my face to the ground.

"Recovering, I raised myself a little to look round, being at that time,

I believe, in a condition to get up and run away; when a lancer passing

by, cried out, 'Tu n'est pas mort, coquin!' and struck his lance through

my back. My head dropped, the blood gushed into my mouth, a difficulty

of breathing came on, and I thought all was over.

"Not long afterwards (it was impossible to measure time, but I must have

fallen in less than ten minutes after the onset), a tirailleur

stopped to plunder me, threatening my life. I directed him to a

small side-pocket, in which he found three dollars, all I had; but

he continued to threaten, and I said he might search me: this he did

immediately, unloosing my stock and tearing open my waistcoat, and

leaving me in a very uneasy posture.

"But he was no sooner gone, than an officer bringing up some troops,

to which probably the tirailleur belonged and happening to halt where

I lay, stooped down and addressed me, saying, he feared I was badly

wounded; I said that I was, and expressed a wish to be removed to the

rear. He said it was against their orders to remove even their own men;

but that if they gained the day (and he understood that the Duke of

Wellington was killed, and that some of our battalions had surrendered),

every attention in his power would be shown me. I complained of thirst,

and he held his brandy-bottle to my lips, directing one of the soldiers

to lay me straight on my side, and place a knapsack under my head. He

then passed on into action--soon, perhaps, to want, though not receive,

the same assistance; and I shall never know to whose generosity I was

indebted, as I believe, for my life. Of what rank he was, I cannot say:

he wore a great coat. By-and-by another tirailleur came up, a fine

young man, full of ardour. He knelt down and fired over me, loading and

firing many times, and conversing with me all the while." The Frenchman,

with strange coolness, informed Ponsonby of how he was shooting, and

what he thought of the progress of the battle. "At last he ran off,

exclaiming, 'You will probably not be sorry to hear that we are going

to retreat. Good day, my friend.' It was dusk," Ponsonby adds, "when two

squadrons of Prussian cavalry, each of them two deep, came across the

valley, and passed over me in full trot, lifting me from the ground,

and tumbling me about cruelly. The clatter of of their approach and the

apprehensions they excited, may be imagined; a gun taking that direction

must have destroyed me.

"The battle was now at an end, or removed to a distance. The shouts,

the imprecations, the outcries of 'Vive l'Empereur!' the discharge of

musketry and cannon, were over; and the groans of the wounded all around

me, became every moment more and more audible. I thought the night would

never end.

"Much about this time I found a soldier of the Royals lying across my

legs: he had probably crawled thither in his agony; and his weight, his

convulsive motions, and the air issuing through a wound in his side,

distressed me greatly; the last circumstance most of all, as I had

a wound of the same nature myself. It was not a dark night, and the

Prussians were wandering about to plunder; the scene in Ferdinand Count

Fathom came into my mind, though no women appeared. Several stragglers

looked at me, as they passed by, one after another, and at last one of

them stopped to examine me. I told him as well as I could, for I spoke

German very imperfectly, that I was a British officer, and had been

plundered already; he did not desist, however, and pulled me about

roughly.

"An hour before midnight I saw a man in an English uniform walking

towards me. He was, I suspect, on the same errand, and he came and

looked in my face. I spoke instantly, telling him who I was, and

assuring him of a reward if he would remain by me. He said he belonged

to the 40th, and had missed his regiment; he released me from the dying

soldier, and being unarmed, took up a sword from the ground, and stood

over me, pacing backwards and forwards.

"Day broke; and at six o'clock in the morning some English were seen at

a distance, and he ran to them. A messenger being sent off to Hervey, a

cart came for me, and I was placed in it, and carried to the village

of Waterloo, a mile and a half off, and laid in the bed from which as I

understood afterwards, Gordon had been just carried out. I had received

seven wounds; a surgeon slept in my room, and I was saved by excessive

bleeding."

Major Macready, in the journal already cited, [See SUPRA. p. 368.]

justly praises the deep devotion to their Emperor which, marked the

French at Waterloo. Never, indeed, had the national bravery of the

French people been more nobly shown. One soldier in the French ranks was

seen, when his arm was shattered by a cannon-ball, to wrench it off with

the other; and throwing it up in the air, he exclaimed to his comrades,

"Vive l'Empereur jusqu'a la mort!" Colonel Lemonnier-Delafosse mentions

in his Memoirs, [Page 388.] that at the beginning of the action, a

French soldier who had had both legs carried off by a cannon-ball,

was borne past the front of Foy's division, and called out to them, "Ca

n'est rien, camarades; Vive l'Empereur! Gloire a la France!" The same

officer, at the end of the battle, when all hope was lost, tells us that

he saw a French grenadier, blackened with powder, and with his clothes

torn and stained, leaning on his musket, and immoveable as a statue.

The colonel called to him to join his comrades and retreat; but the

grenadier showed him his musket and his hands; and said, "These

hands have with this musket used to-day more than twenty packets of

cartridges: it was more than my share: I supplied myself with ammunition

from the dead. Leave me to die here on the field of battle. It is not

courage that fails me, but strength." Then, as Colonel Delafosse left

him, the soldier stretched himself on the ground to meet his fate,

exclaiming, "Tout est perdu! pauvre France!" The gallantry of the French

officers at least equalled that of their men. Ney, in particular, set

the example of the most daring courage. Here, as in every French army

in which he ever served or commanded, he was "le brave des braves."

Throughout the day he was in the front of the battle; and was one of the

very last Frenchmen who quitted the field. His horse was killed under

him in the last attack made on the English position; but he was seen

on foot, his clothes torn with bullets, his face smirched with powder,

striving, sword in hand, first to urge his men forward, and at last to

check their flight.

There was another brave general of the French army, whose valour and

good conduct on that day of disaster to his nation should never be

unnoticed when the story of Waterloo is recounted. This was General

Polet, who, about seven in the evening, led the first battalion of the

2d regiment of the Chasseurs of the Guard to the defence of Planchenoit;

and on whom Napoleon personally urged the deep importance of maintaining

possession of that village. Pelet and his men took their post in the

central part of the village, and occupied the church and churchyard in

great strength. There they repelled every assault of the Prussians,

who in rapidly increasing numbers rushed forward with infuriated

pertinacity. They held their post till the utter rout of the main army

of their comrades was apparent, and the victorious Allies were thronging

around Planchenoit. When Pelet and his brave chasseurs quitted the

churchyard, and retired with steady march, though they suffered

fearfully from the moment they left their shelter, and Prussian cavalry

as well as infantry dashed fiercely after them. Pelet kept together a

little knot of 250 veterans, and had the eagle covered over, and borne

along in the midst of them. At one time the inequality of the ground

caused his ranks to open a little; and in an instant the Prussian

horseman were on them, and striving to capture the eagle. Captain

Siborne relates the conduct of Pelet with the admiration worthy of one

brave soldier for another:--

"Pelet, taking advantage of a spot of ground which afforded them some

degree of cover against the fire of grape by which they were constantly

assailed, halted the standard-bearer, and called out, "A moi chasseurs!

sauvons l'aigle ou mourons autour d'elle!" The chasseurs immediately

pressed around him, forming what is usually termed the rallying square,

and, lowering their bayonets, succeeded in repulsing the charge of

cavalry. Some guns were then brought to bear upon them, and subsequently

a brisk fire of musketry; but notwithstanding the awful sacrifice which

was thus offered up in defence of their precious charge, they succeeded

in reaching the main line of retreat, favoured by the universal

confusion, as also by the general obscurity which now prevailed; and

thus saved alike the eagle and the honour of the regiment."

French writers do injustice to their own army and general, when they

revive malignant calumnies against Wellington, and speak of his having

blundered into victory. No blunderer could have successfully encountered

such troops as those of Napoleon, and under such a leader. It is

superfluous to cite against these cavils the testimony which other

continental critics have borne to the high military genius of our

illustrious chief. I refer to one only, which is of peculiar value, on

account of the quarter whence it comes. It is that of the great German

writer Niebuhr, whose accurate acquaintance with every important scene

of modern as well as ancient history was unparalleled: and who was no

mere pedant, but a man practically versed in active life, and had been

personally acquainted with most of the leading men in the great events

of the early part of this century. Niebuhr, in the passage which I

allude to, [Roman History, vol. v. p. 17.] after referring to the

military "blunders" of Mithridates, Frederick the Great, Napoleon,

Pyrrhus, and Hannibal, uses these remarkable words, "The Duke of

Wellington is, I believe, the only general in whose conduct of war we

cannot discover any important mistake." Not that it is to be supposed

that the Duke's merits were simply of a negative order, or that he was

merely a cautious, phlegmatic general fit only for defensive warfare,

as some recent French historians have described him. On the contrary,

he was bold even to audacity when boldness was required. "The intrepid

advance and fight at Assaye, the crossing of the Douro, and the movement

on Talavera in 1809, the advance to Madrid and Burgos in 1812, the

actions before Bayonne in 1813, and the desperate stand made at Waterloo

itself, when more tamely-prudent generals would have retreated beyond

Brussels, place this beyond a doubt." [See the admirable parallel of

Wellington and Marlborough at the end of Sir Archibald Alison's "Life of

the Duke of Marlborough." Sir Archibald justly considers Wellington the

more daring general of the two.]

The overthrow of the French military power at Waterloo was so complete,

that the subsequent events of the brief campaign have little interest.

Lamartine truly says: "This defeat left nothing undecided in future

events, for victory had given judgment. The war began and ended in a

single battle." Napoleon himself recognised instantly and fully the

deadly nature of the blow which had been dealt to his empire. In his

flight from the battle-field he first halted at Charleroi, but the

approach of the pursuing Prussians drove him thence before he had rested

there an hour. With difficulty getting clear of the wrecks of his own

army, he reached Philippeville, where he remained a few hours, and sent

orders to the French generals in the various extremities of France to

converge with their troops upon Paris. He ordered Soult to collect

the fugitives of his own force, and lead them to Laon. He then hurried

forward to Paris, and reached his capital before the news of his own

defeat. But the stern truth soon transpired. At the demand of the

Chambers of Peers and Representatives, he abandoned the throne by a

second and final abdication on the 22d of June. On the 29th of June he

left the neighbourhood of Paris, and proceeded to Rochefort in the hope

of escaping to America; but the coast was strictly watched, and on the

15th of July the ex-emperor surrendered himself on board of the English

man-of-war the Bellerophon.

Meanwhile the allied armies had advanced steadily upon Paris, driving

before them Grouchy's corps, and the scanty force which Soult had

succeeded in rallying at Laon. Cambray, Peronne, and other fortresses

were speedily captured; and by the 29th of June the invaders were taking

their positions in front of Paris. The Provisional Government, which

acted in the French capital after the Emperor's abdication, opened

negotiations with the allied chiefs. Blucher, in his quenchless hatred

of the French, was eager to reject all proposals for a suspension of

hostilities, and to assault and storm the city. But the sager and

calmer spirit of Wellington prevailed over his colleague; the entreated

armistice was granted; and on the 3d of July the capitulation of Paris

terminated the War of the Battle of Waterloo.

In closing our observations on this the last of the Decisive Battles of

the World, it is pleasing to contrast the year which it signalized with

the year that is now [Written in June 1851.] passing over our heads. We

have not (and long may we be without) the stern excitement of martial

strife, and we see no captive standards of our European neighbours

brought in triumph to our shrines. But we behold an infinitely prouder

spectacle. We see the banners of every civilized nation waving over the

arena of our competition with each other, in the arts that minister

to our race's support and happiness, and not to its suffering and

destruction.

"Peace hath her victories

No less renowned than War;"

and no battle-field ever witnessed a victory more noble than that which

England, under her Sovereign Lady and her Royal Prince, is now teaching

the peoples of the earth to achieve over selfish prejudices and

international feuds, in the great cause of the general promotion of the

industry and welfare of mankind.