Nelson and Wellington, the Champions of England.
[=England and France on Land and Sea=]
For nearly twenty years went on the stupendous struggle between
Napoleon the Great and the powers of Europe, but in all that time, and
among the multitude of men who met the forces of France in battle,
only two names emerge which the world cares to remember, those of
Horatio Nelson, the most famous of the admirals of England, and Lord
Wellington, who alone seemed able to overthrow the greatest military
genius of modern times. On land the efforts of Napoleon were seconded
by the intrepidity of a galaxy of heroes, Ney, Murat, Moreau, Massena,
and other men of fame. At sea the story reads differently. That era of
stress and strain raised no great admiral in the service of France; her
ships were feebly commanded, and the fleet of Great Britain, under the
daring Nelson, kept its proud place as mistress of the sea.
[=Nelson Discovers the French Fleet in Aboukir Bay=]
The first proof of this came before the opening of the century, when
Napoleon, led by the ardor of his ambition, landed in Egypt, with vague
hopes of rivaling in the East the far-famed exploits of Alexander the
Great. The fleet which bore him thither remained moored in Aboukir
Bay, where Nelson, scouring the Mediterranean in quest of it, first
came in sight of its serried line of ships on August 1, 1798. One
alternative alone dwelt in his courageous soul, that of a heroic death
or a glorious victory. "Before this time to-morrow I shall have gained
a victory or Westminster Abbey," he said.
In the mighty contest that followed, the French had the advantage in
numbers, alike of ships, guns, and men. They were drawn up in a strong
and compact line of battle, moored in a manner that promised to bid
defiance to a force double their own. They lay in an open roadstead,
but had every advantage of situation, the British fleet being obliged
to attack them in a position carefully chosen for defence. Only the
genius of Nelson enabled him to overcome those advantages of the enemy.
"If we succeed, what will the world say?" asked Captain Berry, on
hearing the admiral's plan of battle. "There is no if in the case,"
answered the admiral. "That we shall succeed is certain: who may live
to tell the story, is a very different question."
[=The Glorious Battle of the Nile=]
The story of the "Battle of the Nile" belongs to the record of
eighteenth century affairs. All we need say here is that it ended in
a glorious victory for the English fleet. Of thirteen ships of the
line in the French fleet, only two escaped. Of four frigates, one was
sunk and one burned. The British loss was 895 men. Of the French,
5,225 perished in the terrible fray. Nelson sprang, in a moment, from
the position of a man without fame into that of the naval hero of the
world--as Dewey did in as famous a fray almost exactly a century later.
Congratulations and honors were showered upon him, the Sultan of Turkey
rewarded him with costly presents, valuable testimonials came from
other quarters, and his own country honored him with the title of Baron
Nelson of the Nile, and settled upon him for life a pension of £2,000.
The first great achievement of Nelson in the nineteenth century was the
result of a daring resolution of the statesmen of England, in their
desperate contest with the Corsican conqueror. By his exploit at the
Nile the admiral had very seriously weakened the sea-power of France.
But there were powers then in alliance with France--Russia, Sweden and
Denmark--which had formed a confederacy to make England respect their
naval rights, and whose combined fleet, if it should come to the aid of
France, might prove sufficient to sweep the ships of England from the
seas.
The weakest of these powers, and the one most firmly allied to France,
was Denmark, whose fleet, consisting of twenty-three ships of the line
and about thirty-one frigates and smaller vessels, lay at Copenhagen.
At any moment this powerful fleet might be put at the disposal of
Napoleon. This possible danger the British cabinet resolved to avoid.
A plan was laid to destroy the fleet of the Danes, and on the 12th of
March, 1801, the British fleet sailed with the purpose of putting this
resolution into effect.
[=The Fleet Sails for Copenhagen=]
Nelson, then bearing the rank of vice-admiral, went with the fleet, but
only as second in command. To the disgust of the English people, Sir
Hyde Parker, a brave and able seaman, but one whose name history has
let sink into oblivion, was given chief command--a fact which would
have insured the failure of the expedition if Nelson had not set aside
precedent, and put glory before duty. Parker, indeed, soon set Nelson
chafing by long drawn-out negotiations, which proved useless, wasted
time, and saved the Danes from being taken by surprise. When, on the
morning of April 30th, the British fleet at length advanced through
the Sound and came in sight of the Danish line of defence, they beheld
formidable preparations to meet them.
[=The Danish Line of Defence=]
Eighteen vessels, including full-rigged ships and hulks, were moored
in a line nearly a mile and a half in length, flanked to the northward
by two artificial islands mounted with sixty-eight heavy cannon
and supplied with furnaces for heating shot. Near by lay two large
block-ships. Across the harbor's mouth extended a massive chain, and
shore batteries commanded the channel. Outside the harbor's mouth were
moored two 74-gun ships, a 40-gun frigate, and some smaller vessels. In
addition to these defences, which stretched for nearly four miles in
length, was the difficulty of the channel, always hazardous from its
shoals, and now beaconed with false buoys for the purpose of luring the
British ships to destruction.
With modern defences--rapid-fire guns and steel-clad batteries--the
enterprise would have been hopeless, but the art of defence was then
at a far lower level. Nelson, who led the van in the 74-gun ship
_Elephant_, gazed on these preparations with admiration, but with no
evidence of doubt as to the result. The British fleet consisted of
eighteen line of battle ships, with a large number of frigates and
other craft, and with this force, and his indomitable spirit, he felt
confident of breaking these formidable lines.
[=The Attack on the Danish Fleet=]
At ten o'clock on the morning of April 2d the battle began, two of
the British ships running aground almost before a gun was fired. At
sight of this disaster Nelson instantly changed his plan of sailing,
starboarded his helm, and sailed in, dropping anchor within a cable's
length of the _Dannebrog_, of 62 guns. The other ships followed his
example, avoiding the shoals on which the _Bellona_ and _Russell_ had
grounded, and taking position at the close quarters of 100 fathoms from
the Danish ships.
A terrific cannonade followed, kept up by both sides with unrelenting
fury for three hours, and with terrible effect on the contesting
ships and their crews. At this juncture took place an event that has
made Nelson's name immortal among naval heroes. Admiral Parker, whose
flag-ship lay at a distance from the hot fight, but who heard the
incessant and furious fire and saw the grounded ships flying signals of
distress, began to fear that Nelson was in serious danger, from which
it was his duty to withdraw him. At about one o'clock he reluctantly
hoisted a signal for the action to cease.
At this moment Nelson was pacing the quarter-deck of the _Elephant_,
inspired with all the fury of the fight. "It is a warm business,"
he said to Colonel Stewart, who was on the ship with him; "and any
moment may be the last of either of us; but, mark you, I would not for
thousands be anywhere else."
As he spoke the flag-lieutenant reported that the signal to cease
action was shown on the mast-head of the flag-ship _London_, and asked
if he should report it to the fleet.
"No," was the stern answer; "merely acknowledge it. Is our signal for
'close action' still flying?"
"Yes," replied the officer.
[=How Nelson Answered the Signal to Cease Action=]
"Then see that you keep it so," said Nelson, the stump of his amputated
arm working as it usually did when he was agitated. "Do you know," he
asked Colonel Stewart, "the meaning of signal No. 39, shown by Parker's
ships?"
"No. What does it mean?"
"To leave off action!" He was silent a moment, then burst out, "Now
damn me if I do!"
Turning to Captain Foley, who stood near him, he said: "Foley, you know
I have only one eye; I have a right to be blind sometimes." He raised
his telescope, applied it to his blind eye, and said: "I really do not
see the signal."
On roared the guns, overhead on the _Elephant_ still streamed the
signal for "close action," and still the torrent of British balls
rent the Danish ships. In half an hour more the fire of the Danes was
fast weakening. In an hour it had nearly ceased. They had suffered
frightfully, in ships and lives, and only the continued fire of the
shore batteries now kept the contest alive. It was impossible to take
possession of the prizes, and Nelson sent a flag of truce ashore with a
letter in which he threatened to burn the vessels, with all on board,
unless the shore fire was stopped. This threat proved effective, the
fire ended, the great battle was at an end.
At four o'clock Nelson went on board the _London_, to meet the admiral.
He was depressed in spirit, and said: "I have fought contrary to
orders, and may be hanged; never mind, let them."
There was no danger of this; Parker was not that kind of man. He had
raised the signal through fear for Nelson's safety, and now gloried in
his success, giving congratulations where his subordinate looked for
blame. The Danes had fought bravely and stubbornly, but they had no
commander of the spirit and genius of Nelson, and were forced to yield
to British pluck and endurance. Until June 13th, Nelson remained in the
Baltic, watching the Russian fleet which he might still have to fight.
Then came orders for his return home, and word reached him that he had
been created Viscount Nelson for his services.
[=Nelson in Chase of the French Fleet=]
There remains to describe the last and most famous of Nelson's
exploits, that in which he put an end to the sea-power of France, by
destroying the remainder of her fleet at Trafalgar, and met death
at the moment of victory. Four years had passed since the fight at
Copenhagen. During much of that time Nelson had kept his fleet on guard
off Toulon, impatiently waiting until the enemy should venture from
that port of refuge. At length, the combined fleet of France and Spain,
now in alliance, escaped his vigilance, and sailed to the West Indies
to work havoc in the British colonies. He followed them thither in all
haste; and subsequently, on their return to France, he chased them back
across the seas, burning with eagerness to bring them to bay.
[=The Allied Fleet Leaves Cadiz=]
On the 19th of October, 1805, the allied fleet put to sea from the
harbor of Cadiz, confident that its great strength would enable
it to meet any force the British had upon the waves. Admiral De
Villeneuve, with thirty-three ships of the line and a considerable
number of smaller craft, had orders to force the straits of Gibraltar,
land troops at Naples, sweep British cruisers and commerce from the
Mediterranean, and then seek the port of Toulon to refit. As it turned
out, he never reached the straits, his fleet meeting its fate before
it could leave the Atlantic waves. Nelson had reached the coast of
Europe again, and was close at hand when the doomed ships of the allies
appeared. Two swift ocean scouts saw the movements, and hastened to
Lord Nelson with the welcome news that the long-deferred moment was
at hand. On the 21st, the British fleet came within view, and the
following signal was set on the mast-head of the flag-ship:
"The French and Spaniards are out at last; they outnumber us in ships
and guns and men; we are on the eve of the greatest sea-fight in
history."
On came the ships, great lumbering craft, strangely unlike the
war-vessels of to-day. Instead of the trim, grim, steel-clad,
steam-driven modern battle-ship, with its revolving turret, and great
frowning, breech-loading guns, sending their balls through miles of
air, those were bluff-bowed, ungainly hulks, with bellying sides
towering like black walls above the sea as if to make the largest mark
possible for hostile shot, with a great show of muzzle-loading guns of
small range, while overhead rose lofty spars and spreading sails. Ships
they were that to-day would be sent to the bottom in five minutes of
fight, but which, mated against others of the same build, were capable
of giving a gallant account of themselves.
[=Off Cape Trafalgar=]
It was off the shoals of Cape Trafalgar, near the southern extremity
of Spain, that the two fleets met, and such a tornado of fire as has
rarely been seen upon the ocean waves was poured from their broad and
lofty sides. As they came together there floated from the masthead of
the _Victory_, Nelson's flagship, that signal which has become the
watchword of the British isles: "England expects that every man will do
his duty."
[=The "Victory" and Her Brilliant Fight=]
We cannot follow the fortunes of all the vessels in that stupendous
fray, the most famous sea-fight in history. It must serve to follow
the _Victory_ in her course, in which Nelson eagerly sought to thrust
himself into the heart of the fight and dare death in his quest for
victory. He was not long in meeting his wish. Soon he found himself
in a nest of enemies, eight ships at once pouring their fire upon his
devoted vessel, which could not bring a gun to bear in return, the wind
having died away and the ship lying almost motionless upon the waves.
Before the _Victory_ was able to fire a shot fifty of her men had
fallen killed or wounded, and her canvas was pierced and rent till
it looked like a series of fishing nets. But the men stuck to their
guns with unyielding tenacity, and at length their opportunity came. A
68-pounder carronade, loaded with a round shot and 500 musket balls,
was fired into the cabin windows of the _Bucentaure_, with such
terrible effect as to disable 400 men and 20 guns, and put the ship
practically out of the fight.
The _Victory_ next turned upon the _Neptune_ and the _Redoubtable_, of
the enemy's fleet. The _Neptune_, not liking her looks, kept off, but
she collided and locked spars with the _Redoubtable_, and a terrific
fight began. On the opposite side of the _Redoubtable_ came the British
ship _Temeraire_, and opposite it again a second ship of the enemy, the
four vessels lying bow to bow, and rending one another's sides with an
incessant hail of balls. On the _Victory_ the gunners were ordered to
depress their pieces, that the balls should not go through and wound
the _Temeraire_ beyond. The muzzles of their cannon fairly touched the
enemy's side, and after each shot a bucket of water was dashed into the
rent, that they may not set fire to the vessel which they confidently
expected to take as a prize.
In the midst of the hot contest came the disaster already spoken of.
Brass swivels were mounted in the French ship's tops to sweep with
their fire the deck of their foe, and as Nelson and Captain Hardy paced
together their poop deck, regardless of danger, the admiral suddenly
fell. A ball from one of these guns had reached the noblest mark on the
fleet.
[=The Great Battle and its Sad Disaster=]
"They have done for me at last, Hardy," the fallen man said.
"Don't say you are hit!" cried Hardy in dismay.
"Yes, my backbone is shot through."
His words were not far from the truth. He never arose from that fatal
shot. Yet, dying as he was, his spirit survived.
"I hope none of our ships have struck, Hardy," he feebly asked, in a
later interval of the fight.
"No, my lord. There is small fear of that."
"I'm a dead man, Hardy, but I'm glad of what you say. Whip them now
you've got them. Whip them as they've never been whipped before."
Another hour passed. Hardy came below again to say that fourteen or
fifteen of the enemy's ships had struck.
"That's better, though I bargained for twenty," said the dying man.
"And now, anchor, Hardy--anchor."
"I suppose, my lord, that Admiral Collingwood will now take the
direction of affairs."
"Not while I live," exclaimed Nelson, with a momentary return of
energy. "Do _you_ anchor, Hardy."
"Then shall _we_ make the signal, my lord."
"Yes, for if I live, I'll anchor."
[=Victory for England and Death for Her Famous Admiral=]
That was the end. Five minutes later Horatio Nelson, England's greatest
sea champion, was dead. He had won both prizes he sought for in the
battle of the Nile--victory and Westminster Abbey.
Collingwood did not anchor, but stood out to sea with the eighteen
prizes of the hard fought fray. In the gale that followed many of the
results of victory were lost, four of the ships being retaken, some
wrecked on shore, some foundering at sea, only four reaching British
waters in Gibraltar Bay. But whatever was lost, Nelson's fame was
secure, and the victory at Trafalgar is treasured as one of the most
famous triumphs of British arms.
The naval battle at Copenhagen, won by Nelson, was followed, six years
later, by a combined land and naval expedition in which Wellington,
England's other champion, took part. Again inspired by the fear that
Napoleon might use the Danish fleet for his own purposes, the British
government, though at peace with Denmark, sent a fleet to Copenhagen,
bombarded and captured the city, and seized the Danish ships. A battle
took place on land in which Wellington (then Sir Arthur Wellesley)
won an easy victory and, captured 10,000 men. The whole business was
an inglorious one, a dishonorable incident in a struggle in which
the defeat of Napoleon stood first, honor second. Among the English
themselves some defended it on the plea of policy, some called it
piracy and murder.
[=The British in Portugal=]
Not long afterwards England prepared to take a serious part on land
in the desperate contest with Napoleon, and sent a British force to
Portugal, then held by the French army of invasion under Marshal Junot.
This force, 10,000 strong, was commanded by Sir Arthur Wellesley, and
landed July 30, 1808, at Mondego Bay. He was soon joined by General
Spencer from Cadiz, with 13,000 men.
[=The Death of Sir John Moore=]
The French, far from home and without support, were seriously alarmed
at this invasion, and justly so, for they met with defeat in a sharp
battle at Vimeira, and would probably have been forced to surrender as
prisoners of war had not the troops been called off from pursuit by Sir
Harry Burrard, who had been sent out to supersede Wellesley in command.
The end of it all was a truce, and a convention under whose terms the
French troops were permitted to evacuate Portugal with their arms and
baggage and return to France. This release of Junot from a situation
which precluded escape so disgusted Wellesley that he threw up his
command and returned to England. Other troops sent out under Sir John
Moore and Sir David Baird met a superior force of French in Spain, and
their expedition ended in disaster. Moore was killed while the troops
were embarking to return home, and the memory of this affair has been
preserved in the famous ode, "The burial of Sir John Moore," from which
we quote:
"We buried him darkly at dead of night,
The sod with our bayonets turning,
By the glimmering moonbeams' misty light
And the lanterns dimly burning."
In April, 1809, Wellesley returned to Portugal, now chief in command,
to begin a struggle which was to continue until the fall of Napoleon.
There were at that time about 20,000 British soldiers at Lisbon, while
the French had in Spain more than 300,000 men, under such generals as
Ney, Soult, and Victor. The British, indeed, were aided by a large
number of natives in arms. But these, though of service as guerillas,
were almost useless in regular warfare.
[=The Gallant Crossing of the Douro=]
Wellesley was at Lisbon. Oporto, 170 miles north, was held by Marshal
Soult, who had recently taken it. Without delay Wellington marched
thither, and drove the French outposts across the river Douro. But in
their retreat they burned the bridge of boats across the river, seized
every boat they could find, and rested in security, defying their foes
to cross. Soult, veteran officer though he was, fancied that he had
disposed of Wellesley, and massed his forces on the sea-coast side of
the town, in which quarter alone he looked for an attack.
He did not know his antagonist. A few skiffs were secured, and a small
party of British was sent across the stream. The French attacked them,
but they held their ground till some others joined them, and by the
time Soult was informed of the danger Wellesley had landed a large
force and controlled a good supply of boats. A battle followed in
which the French were routed and forced to retreat. But the only road
by which their artillery or baggage could be moved had been seized
by General Beresford, and was strongly held. In consequence Soult was
forced to abandon all his wagons and cannon and make his escape by
bye-roads into Spain.
[Illustration: RETREAT OF NAPOLEON FROM WATERLOO
In the slaughter of his Old Guard on the field of
Waterloo, Napoleon recognized the tocsin of fate.
Pale, distressed, despairing, he was led by Marshall
Soult from the scene of slaughter. It was the last of
his many fields of battle and death, and his career
would have had a nobler ending if he had died there
rather than fled.]
[Illustration: THE REMNANT OF AN ARMY
The defeat of the French in the battle of Waterloo was
so complete that all organization was lost, many of
the soldiers fleeing singly from the field. This state
of affairs is here strikingly depicted.]
[=The Victory at Talavera and the Victor's Reward=]
This signal victory was followed by another on July 27, 1809, when
Wellesley, with 20,000 British soldiers and about 40,000 Spanish
allies, met a French army of 60,000 men at Talavera in Spain. The
battle that succeeded lasted two days. The brunt of it fell upon the
British, the Spaniards proving of little use, yet it ended in the
defeat of the French, who retired unmolested, the British being too
exhausted to pursue.
The tidings of this victory were received with the utmost enthusiasm
in England. It was shown by it that British valor could win battles
against Napoleon's on land as well as on sea. Wellesley received the
warmest thanks of the king, and, like Nelson, was rewarded by being
raised to the peerage, being given the titles of Baron Douro of
Wellesley and Viscount Wellington of Talavera. In future we shall call
him by his historic title of Wellington.
Men and supplies just then would have served Wellington better than
titles. With strong support he could have marched on and taken Madrid.
As it was, he felt obliged to retire upon the fortress of Badajoz, near
the frontier of Portugal. Spain was swarming with French soldiers, who
were gradually collected there until they exceeded 350,000 men. Of
these 80,000, under the command of Massena, were sent to act against
the British. Before this strong force Wellington found it necessary to
draw back, and the frontier fortresses of Almeida and Ciudad Rodrigo
were taken by the French. Wellington's first stand was on the heights
of Busaco, September, 1810. Here, with 30,000 men, he withstood all the
attacks of the French, who in the end were forced to withdraw. Massena
then tried to gain the road between Lisbon and Oporto, whereupon
Wellington quickly retreated towards Lisbon.
[=Wellington's Impregnable Lines at Torres Vedras=]
The British general had during the winter been very usefully employed.
The road by which Lisbon must be approached passes the village
of Torres Vedras, and here two strong lines of earthworks were
constructed, some twenty-five miles in length, stretching from the
sea to the Tagus, and effectually securing Lisbon against attack.
These works had been built with such secrecy and despatch that the
French were quite ignorant of their existence, and Massena, marching
in confidence upon the Portuguese capital, was amazed and chagrined on
finding before him this formidable barrier.
It was strongly defended, and all his efforts to take it proved in
vain. He then tried to reduce the British by famine, but in this he
was equally baffled, food being poured into Lisbon from the sea.
He tried by a feigned retreat to draw the British from their works,
but this stratagem failed of effect, and for four months more the
armies remained inactive. At length the exhaustion of the country of
provisions made necessary a real retreat, and Massena withdrew across
the Spanish frontier, halting near Salamanca. Of the proud force with
which Napoleon proposed to "drive the British leopards into the sea,"
more than half had vanished in this luckless campaign.
[=The Siege and Capture of the Portuguese Fortresses=]
But though the French army had withdrawn from Portugal, the frontier
fortresses were still in French hands, and of these Almeida, near the
borders, was the first to be attacked by Wellington's forces. Massena
advanced with 50,000 men to its relief, and the two armies met at
Fuentes-de-Onoro, May 4, 1811. The French made attacks on the 5th and
6th, but were each time repulsed, and on the 7th Massena retreated,
sending orders to the governor of Almeida to destroy the fortifications
and leave the place.
Another battle was fought in front of Badajoz of the most sanguinary
character, the total loss of the two armies being 15,000 killed and
wounded. For a time the British seemed threatened with inevitable
defeat, but the fortune of the day was turned into victory by a
desperate charge. Subsequently Ciudad Rodrigo was attacked, and was
carried by storm, in January, 1812. Wellington then returned to
Badajoz, which was also taken by storm, after a desperate combat in
which the victors lost 5,000 men, a number exceeding that of the whole
French garrison.
[=Wellington Wins at Salamanca and Enters Madrid=]
These continued successes of the British were seriously out of
consonance with the usual exploits of Napoleon's armies. He was furious
with his marshals, blaming them severely, and might have taken their
place in the struggle with Wellington but that his fatal march to
Russia was about to begin. The fortress taken, Wellington advanced
into Spain, and on July 21st encountered the French army under Marmont
before the famous old town of Salamanca. The battle, one of the most
stubbornly contested in which Wellington had yet been engaged, ended in
the repulse of the French, and on August 12th the British army marched
into Madrid, the capital of Spain, from which King Joseph Bonaparte had
just made his second flight.
[=Vittoria and the Pyrenees=]
Wellington's next effort was a siege of the strong fortress of Burgos.
This proved the one failure in his military career, he being obliged to
raise the siege after several weeks of effort. In the following year
he was strongly reinforced, and with an army numbering nearly 200,000
men he marched on the retreating enemy, meeting them at Vittoria, near
the boundary of France and Spain, on June 21, 1813. The French were
for the first time in this war in a minority. They were also heavily
encumbered with baggage, the spoils of their occupation of Spain. The
battle ended in a complete victory for Wellington, who captured 157
cannon and a vast quantity of plunder, including the spoils of Madrid
and of the palace of the kings of Spain. The specie, of which a large
sum was taken, quickly disappeared among the troops, and failed to
reach the treasure chests of the army.
The French were now everywhere on the retreat. Soult, after a vigorous
effort to drive the British from the passes of the Pyrenees, withdrew,
and Wellington and his army soon stood on the soil of France. A victory
over Soult at Nivelle, and a series of successes in the following
spring, ended the long Peninsular War, the abdication of Napoleon
closing the long and terrible drama of battle. In the whole six years
of struggle Wellington had not once been defeated on the battlefield.
His military career had not yet ended. His great day of glory was still
to come, that in which he was to meet Napoleon himself in the field,
and, for the first time in the history of the great Corsican, drive
back his army in utter rout.
[=The Gathering of the Forces at Brussels=]
A year or more had passed since the events just narrated. In June,
1815, Wellington found himself at the head of an army some 100,000
strong, encamped around Brussels, the capital of Belgium. It was a
mingled group of British, Dutch, Belgian, Hanoverian, German, and
other troops, hastily got together, and many of them not safely to
be depended upon. Of the British, numbers had never been under fire.
Marshal Blücher, with an equal force of Prussian troops, was near at
hand; the two forces prepared to meet the rapidly advancing Napoleon.
We have already told of the defeat of Blücher at Ligny, and the attack
on Wellington at Quatre Bras. On the evening of the 17th the army,
retreating from Quatre Bras, encamped in the historic field of Waterloo
in a drenching rain, that turned the roads into streams, the fields
into swamps. All night long the rain came down, the soldiers enduring
the flood with what patience they could. In the morning it ceased,
fires were kindled, and active preparations began for the terrible
struggle at hand.
[=The Battlefield of Waterloo=]
Here ran a shallow valley, bounded by two ridges, the northern of
which was occupied by the British, while Napoleon posted his army on
its arrival along the southern ridge. On the slope before the British
centre was the white-walled farm house of La Haye Sainte, and in front
of the right wing the chateau of Hougoumont, with its various stout
stone buildings. Both of these were occupied by men of Wellington's
army, and became leading points in the struggle of the day.
It was nine o'clock in the morning before the van-guard of the French
army made its appearance on the crest of the southern ridge. By
half-past ten 61,000 soldiers,--infantry, cavalry, and artillery--lay
encamped in full sight. About half-past eleven came the first attack
of that remarkable day, during which the French waged an aggressive
battle, the British stood on the defensive.
[=The Desperate Charges of the French=]
This first attack was directed against Hougoumont, around which
there was a desperate contest. At this point the affray went on, in
successive waves of attack and repulse, all day long; yet still the
British held the buildings, and all the fierce valor of the French
failed to gain them a foothold within.
About two o'clock came a second attack, preceded by a frightful
cannonade upon the British left and centre. Four massive columns, led
by Ney, poured steadily forward straight for the ridge, sweeping upon
and around the farm-stead of La Haye Sainte, but met at every point by
the sabres and bayonets of the British lines. Nearly 24,000 men took
part in this great movement, the struggle lasting more than an hour
before the French staggered back in repulse. Then from the French lines
came a stupendous cavalry charge, the massive columns composed of no
less than forty squadrons of cuirassiers and dragoons, filling almost
all the space between Hougoumont and La Haye Sainte as they poured like
a torrent upon the British lines. Torn by artillery, rent by musketry;
checked, reformed; charging again, and again driven back; they expended
their strength and their lives on the infantry squares that held their
ground with the grimmest obstinacy. Once more, now strengthened by
the cavalry of the Imperial Guard, they came on to carnage and death,
shattering themselves against those unyielding squares, and in the end
repulsed with frightful loss.
[=Blücher's Prussians and the Charge of Napoleon's Old Guard=]
The day was now well advanced, it being half-past four in the
afternoon; the British had been fearfully shaken by the furious
efforts of the French; when, emerging from the woods at St. Lambert,
appeared the head of a column of fresh troops. Who were they? Blücher's
Prussians, or Grouchy's pursuing French? On the answer to this question
depended the issue of that terrible day. The question was soon decided;
they were the Prussians; no sign appeared of the French; the hearts of
the British beat high with hope and those of the French sank low in
despair, for these fresh troops could not fail to decide the fate of
that mighty field of battle. Soon the final struggle came. Napoleon,
driven to desperation, launched his grand reserve corps, the far-famed
Imperial Guard, upon his enemies. On they come, with Ney at their head;
on them pours a terrible torrent of flame; from a distance the front
ranks appear stationary, but only because they meet a death-line as
they come, and fall in bleeding rows. Then on them, in a wild charge,
rush the British Foot Guards, take them in flank, and soon all is over.
"The Guard dies, but never surrenders," says their commander. Die they
do, few of them surviving to take part in that mad flight which swept
Napoleon from the field and closed the fatal day of Waterloo. England
has won the great struggle, now twenty years old, and Wellington from
that day of victory takes rank with the greatest of British heroes.