witness in exculpation of Grouchy. He tells us, that in the
afternoon, hearing the cannonade of Waterloo, General Excelmans
urged upon Grouchy to leave following the Prussians and to march
towards the cannonade. But Grouchy, “though he burnt with desire to
take part in the great battle, _showed Excelmans his instructions_,
which were to march upon Wavre, and said, that he could not take
such a responsibility on himself.”[36] It is clear therefore, that
up to the afternoon of the 18th Grouchy had no other orders than
those which bade him follow the Prussians who were in position at
Wavre.
Grouchy then, was not at Waterloo, simply because Napoleon had sent
him to Wavre, a town some twelve miles distant; and because he was
there engaged in a struggle with the third Prussian corps. But the
fourth Prussian corps was at Waterloo at five o’clock, because
Blucher had promised to send it there, and because Wellington
expected it; and gave battle with inferior forces, relying on
this assistance. Napoleon ought to have foreseen the probability
of all this,--and, foreseeing it, he ought to have delivered his
blows more rapidly so as to break the English line, if that were
possible, before the Prussians could enter the field. But now
that he had allowed his opportunity to pass, and now that Bulow
was actually beginning to take part in the battle,--what was the
respective strength ranged on either side? This question must
be answered; for Napoleon says, “The enemy’s army had just been
augmented by 30,000 men, already ranged on the held of battle; thus
placing 120,000 men against 69,000, or two to one.” (p. 148.) And
then he immediately afterwards, adds “It was _noon_.”
This statement, however, like most of Napoleon’s other statements,
is untrue. The Duke’s army had never amounted to 70,000 men, of
whom some 10 or 15,000 were merely nominal combatants, whom it was
impossible to persuade to fight. And Napoleon wilfully overlooks
the plain averment of the Prussian official account, that when
their commanders began the attack,--not at _noon_, but some time
after half-past four, _only two brigades_, had arrived on the
field. Captain Siborne, who took the greatest pains to ascertain
every fact of the case, states that at half-past four o’clock the
Prussian force which had come up, amounted to 16,000 men; which,
added to the Duke’s army of 68,000, made a joint force of about
84,000; but, if the non-fighting part of the Duke’s army were
deducted,--of scarcely 70,000. Thus, even with the addition of the
newly-arrived Prussians, the allied force was still numerically
weaker than Napoleon’s army.
This diversion, however, which was caused so opportunely by Bulow’s
arrival, naturally brought great relief to the British line. It
drew off Count Lobau’s corps, the sixth, of 7000 men, which might
otherwise have been sent forward to attack the British centre. The
remark, however, which is sometimes made, that “the English were
saved by arrival of the Prussians,” is singularly absurd. Bulow’s
arrival was not an unexpected thing; or a lucky chance;--it was
a part of the Duke’s plan. He had demanded this aid of Blucher,
and had obtained the promise of it, and without this aid, his
acceptance of battle would have been an act of great temerity. The
arrival of the Prussians, so far from being unexpected, had been
calculated on three hours earlier; Blucher having promised that
they should be in the field by two o’clock.
And sorely had they been needed. The “thin red line” of the British
infantry had scarcely ever found it so difficult to maintain its
ground. At this moment, as we have already remarked, there could
not have been so many as 12,000 of this branch of the Duke’s army
left in position. And yet upon them rested the whole burden of the
battle. Some of the German troops behaved gallantly; but of the
mixed mass of 25,000 Belgians, Hanoverians, Dutchmen, &c., a large
proportion were unable to stand the French attacks. So soon as
one of Napoleon’s columns approached them, they became unsteady,
and often went to the rear. Meanwhile there still stood in front
of the Duke’s right wing, the second corps; and in front of his
left wing, the first corps; and all that were left of Napoleon’s
“12,000 select cavalry” were riding about the British position, as
if they were masters of it. This hour, then, or two hours, from
five o’clock till seven, must have been a most anxious one for the
British General and his troops. The commander of one brigade sent
to the Duke to beg for some relief or reinforcement; and the answer
he received was, “Tell him, that what he wishes is impossible. He,
and I, and every man here, must fight till we die on the spot where
we stand.” Some one asked for a general instruction, as to what
plan should be followed if the Duke himself should fall. “My only
plan,” said the Duke, “is to stand my ground here to the last man.”
Long after the battle, he remarked, of this period of the day, “I
looked oftener at my watch than at anything else. I knew that if
my troops could keep their position till night, I must be joined
by Blucher before morning; and we should not have left Bonaparte
an army next day. But I was glad, as one hour of day-light slipped
away after another, and our position was still maintained.” It is
scarcely possible for words to imply more distinctly, that the
Duke felt that he was standing his ground with an inferior force;
relying on Blucher’s aid, to enable him to strike a blow in return.
Meanwhile, as he was constantly calm, so he was ever hopeful and
high-minded. An Italian officer in the French service, being taken
prisoner afterwards described the dismay he felt, on observing
the quietness of the Duke’s demeanour, and the calmness of his
countenance; which forced him to think that he must have some
concealed reserve, of which the French generals knew nothing. His
brief remarks, too, were always cheerful and reassuring. A young
Piedmontese officer made himself useful, in carrying orders. “Were
you ever in a battle before?” asked the Duke. “No, my lord.” “Then
you are a lucky fellow, for you will never see such another!” was
the rejoinder. At another time, encouraging the 95th regiment,
expecting a charge of cavalry, he said, “Stand fast! 95th, we
musn’t be beat; what would they say in England!” Shortly after,
when the French cavalry came on with threatening aspect, he said,
“Never mind, we’ll win this battle yet!” To a regiment exposed to a
brisk cannonade, he remarked, “Hard pounding this! let’s see who’ll
pound longest!” Often he was evidently the object of the enemy’s
aim, and a tree under which he sometimes took his stand, was
repeatedly struck. “That’s good practice,” said the Duke; “I think
they fire better than in Spain.” But, as we have said, he was ever
high-minded; and when an officer of artillery came to the Duke to
tell him, that he had a clear view of Napoleon, and had several
guns pointed in that direction, the Duke exclaimed, “No! I’ll not
allow it. It is not the business of commanders to be firing upon
one another!”
At half-past five, according to Count Drouet, the Prussians first
came into collision with the sixth corps, which, with Domont’s
cavalry, had been placed on Napoleon’s right wing, specially to
give these new comers a warm reception. The contest soon became an
earnest one on this side; Planchenoit, in the rear of Napoleon’s
right centre, was taken, and retaken, and he felt obliged to send
some battalions of the Young Guard to strengthen Count Lobau. In
this new struggle an hour or more passed, and seven o’clock, the
last hour of the day drew on.
Here Gourgaud stops to claim a triumph. He says, “65 to 68,000
French troops _had beaten_ 115,000 English, Prussians, &c.” But
then he adds, “The Emperor was of opinion that this was the moment
for making a decisive attack, and _determining the fate of the
day_.” So that, although the English and Prussians are assumed to
be beaten, the “fate of the day” remains “to be determined.”
In fact, not one single step in retreat had the English army yet
taken. About six o’clock, indeed, the farm-house of La Haye Sainte
was abandoned by its English defenders, simply because their
ammunition was expended, and without ammunition they could not
defend the place. This was the one solitary advantage gained by the
French in the whole day; and even this was not wrested by them from
the English; the post was evacuated by the latter for the reason we
have stated. And La Haye Sainte, it should be remembered, was about
200 yards _in advance_ of the British line. It was an outpost,
and not a part of the main line. Its capture at an earlier period
might have seriously endangered the Duke’s centre; but at this late
hour Napoleon had but one card left to play, and in playing it the
possession of La Haye Sainte did not greatly aid him.
Up to seven o’clock, then, this one poor outpost was the only foot
of ground gained by the French, in compensation for what Ney calls
“the most frightful carnage that I have ever witnessed.” He is not
here speaking of the defeat of the Imperial Guard, but of what
preceded it. He had led, at one o’clock, the attack by D’Erlon’s
corps on the centre and left of the English position, and at
three o’clock he had sent the heavy cavalry in among the British
battalions. It is of these two attacks that Ney is speaking,
and of the manner in which they were repulsed; and this veteran
soldier, after witnessing Borodino, Leipsic, and twenty other
fields of slaughter, describes the defeat of the first corps, and
the destruction of the cavalry, as a “carnage” the like of which he
had never before beheld.
“The Emperor,” says Gourgaud, “was now of opinion that the moment
was come for making a decisive attack, and determining the fate of
the day.” Yes, the moment was come; for, if the matter had been
left as it stood, Napoleon’s overthrow on the following morning
would have been made certain. “I knew,” said the Duke, long after,
“that if my troops could keep their position till night, I must
be joined by Blucher before morning, and we should not have left
Bonaparte an army next day.” To keep the English and Prussian
armies apart had been Napoleon’s chief endeavour, but the sagacity
and military talent of the two Generals had defeated this purpose.
The French army had only crossed the frontier on the 15th, and
here, on the 18th, were the two allied armies already uniting on
the same battle-field. When, therefore, Gourgaud tells us, in lofty
and decorous language, that “the Emperor was of opinion that this
was the moment for making a decisive attack, and determining the
fate of the day,” the real meaning of these dignified phrases is,
that Napoleon saw that one chance only remained to him, and that
he must break the British line by the whole force of the Imperial
Guard, or retire from the field a discomfited commander; to sustain
in his turn an attack from the united armies the very next day.
His strongest army-corps, the first and second, had both been cut
up and crippled; his splendid cavalry were at that moment being
“massacred” by the English grapeshot and musket-firing; and the
only weapon of power that remained to him was this noble body of
men, who had triumphed in fifty battles--his invincible phalanx,
the Imperial Guard. At seven o’clock, therefore, or about that
hour, he turned to this, his last resource, and ordered to the
front this chosen and favourite arm, the right employment of which
had given him so many victories.
SEVEN O’CLOCK.
It is not easy, amidst the various and contradictory accounts of
the different French historians, to ascertain with exactness the
real force employed in this attack. The Young Guard, under General
Duhesme, had been partly employed in the defence of Planchenoit.
The Old Guard, and the Middle Guard, had not up to this period of
the battle drawn a trigger. Their strength is stated by Gourgaud to
have been on this day 4400 and 4200, or, united, 8600 men.[37] This
force far exceeded any strength which the Duke could bring to bear
upon any given point. In fact the two brigades of General Maitland
and General Adam had to sustain this attack. The first, consisting
of two battalions of Foot-guards, had marched forth two days before
1997 strong. On the evening of Waterloo it numbered only 1027; and
doubtless, when this attack of the Imperial Guard came, it had not
more than 1100 or 1150 bayonets. The other, General Adam’s brigade,
consisting of the 52nd, 71st, and 95th regiments, had been 2621
strong, but it was now reduced to about 2000. Such was the force on
either side which was now to engage in the last terrible encounter
of this great contest.
But, while he was preparing for what he hoped would be the
decisive blow, Napoleon sent orders to both his wings to prepare
for a renewed attack, simultaneously, on Hougoumont and on the
British left and centre. The chateau defended itself bravely and
successfully, as it had done throughout the day. But the possession
of La Haye Sainte gave the first corps of the French army great
advantages, and the pressure on the British line at this point
became fearfully severe. A German battalion was cut up by a charge
of French cuirassiers: a body of Brunswick infantry, which the Duke
had moved up to strengthen the line, gave way, and retired about
100 paces, and it required all the Duke’s personal exertions to
bring them to reform and stand their ground. The Prince of Orange
had been wounded, and the Nassau troops under his command were with
great difficulty induced to keep their ground. The British line had
never been in so much danger of being broken as at this moment. But
scarcely an hour of the day now remained, and the contest which was
just taking place on the right centre was to be decisive of the
fate of the day.
The grand attack of the Imperial Guard, to which Napoleon looked
to decide the fate of his empire, was now beginning. Captain
Siborne states the two columns of attack to have consisted of ten
battalions, besides two battalions left as a reserve. If these
battalions consisted of 600 men each, they would amount to 6000;
but if of 720 men each, they would amount, on the whole, to 7200
men, and these were unquestionably the first soldiers in France.
These columns were formed in front of La Belle Alliance, and began
their advance with that kind of mismanagement which had marked many
of the movements of the French leaders throughout the day; they
did not advance simultaneously, but the first column preceded the
second, although the two took different courses. Neither did they
assail that part of the Duke’s line which was the weakest, but
threw themselves upon two brigades of the British infantry.
Of the two columns,--one of which skirted the enclosures of
Hougoumont, and aimed at the right of the British line, while the
other made its onset nearer to the centre,--the latter gained
the precedence. As it descended into the valley, and allowed the
French artillery on the heights behind an opportunity for action,
the whole of these guns opened fire with a rapidity and weight
which had not been experienced before throughout the day. Wherever
a regiment was visible in the British line, there the round-shot
and howitzer shells rained death upon it. But by degrees the
attacking columns passed through the hollow ground, and began
to ascend the opposite heights. Now they became visible to the
British artillery, and the cannon-shot plunged into their masses
with tremendous effect. The horse of Marshal Ney was killed;
General Friant was wounded, and General Michel was killed. On the
fall of the latter, a battalion of grenadiers came to a halt; but
another General succeeded in inspiring it with new courage. The
column moved forward, sorely shaken by its losses; but at last it
crowned the height, and to its astonishment saw nothing before it
but a small battery of field-pieces, and a few mounted officers in
the rear. But one of these was the Duke, and the next moment the
word of command was heard, “Up, Guards, and at them!” The British
Guards, who had been ordered to lie down, sprang to their feet, in
a compact line of four deep, and in a few seconds, a volley was
heard, and then another, and a third; and in the first minute 300
of the attacking column fell. The French officers rushed to the
front, and called upon the men to deploy into line. Lord Saltoun
exclaimed to the English Guards, “Now’s your time, my boys!”--and
the Duke exclaimed, “Charge!” The brigade sprang forward, with a
cheer, to the charge. All was disorder in the French ranks. Many
flung down their arms and knapsacks and dispersed; the mass, in
dire confusion, rushed down the slope, with the English Guards in
full pursuit.
But the English were instantly called back, for now appeared in
sight the second column, which, shrinking from the fire of the
batteries which had so crushed the first, diverged to the right,
and by this mistaken move, presented its flank to General Adam’s
brigade. The brigade of Guards was formed in its front, while the
52nd and 71st regiments were on its flank. The three regiments
poured such a fire into the mass, that it melted like snow in
the sunshine. Soon was repeated the order, “Charge!” and the two
brigades assailing the devoted column at once in its front and on
its flank, swept it from the field. In a few moments the hollow
ground was crowded with fugitives; Napoleon’s last stake was lost;
the battle of Waterloo was, practically, ended.
Of this terrible conflict, Lamartine rapidly sketches the progress,
in a few glowing lines,--a summary of various French narratives:
“These 6000 grenadiers advanced with shouldered arms, amidst cries
of ‘Vive l’Empereur!’ Wellington awaited them with forty pieces of
cannon, with the matches lighted. As they ascended and approached,
the battery fired a volley point-blank into the advancing mass,
which, as the smoke arose, was seen to waver for a moment; then
to close up and advance as compact as ever. On a second discharge
the same oscillation took place, the same closing up. On the third
discharge the English saw the column reduced to a block of men,
decimated by grape-shot:--two of the battalions had been struck
down, the other two hesitated, and recoiled to seek another means
of access to these impregnable heights. Napoleon turned pale, and
at length doubted of victory.”
This may be said to be the language of a florid writer, depicting
the event long after its occurrence. But Count Drouet, who
witnessed the whole scene, thus described it in the Chamber of
Peers, just six days after the battle:--
“The (first) four battalions of the Guard, when they arrived on
the plateau, were received by the most terrible fire of musquetry
and grape. The _great number of wounded men_ who separate from the
column, cause it to be believed that the Guard is routed. A panic
terror communicates itself to the neighbouring (or second) column,
which precipitately takes flight.”
Count Drouet, witnessing the repulse of both the columns, from
the height behind, might suppose that the dispersal of the second
arose from panic; but in so thinking, he did injustice to his
countrymen. The second column came into action as gallantly us the
first; but, although it was the stronger of the two, it had to
contend with two English brigades instead of one; and its chance
of success was therefore proportionally smaller. Clearly, it was
bad generalship to send the two columns, one after the other, to
be beaten separately. Had they reached the British position at
the same moment, they would have brought against the two British
brigades a force outnumbering them by two to one. Gourgaud thus
describes the fate of this second column: “The eight battalions
of the Guard which were in the centre, after having withstood for
a long time all the attacks of the enemy, and contended for every
foot of ground, were at last completely disorganized by the mass of
the fugitives, and overwhelmed by the numbers of the enemy.”
With the failure of this, his last attack, Napoleon’s hopes, and
his empire, ended. His fall, when it came at last, proved a crash
which left nothing for destruction to do. At the moment when the
Imperial Guards were sent back in confusion, the Prussians under
Marshal Blucher had come into action. His cavalry had supported the
English left, and two brigades of English cavalry, which guarded
the extreme left of the Duke’s position, had been released from
this duty, and had moved to the support of the British centre.
And now, the Prussian infantry of the first corps, commanded by
General Zieten, rushed upon the villages of La Haye and Smohain,
and instantly carried them at the bayonet’s point. A third column
renewed the attack on Planchenoit, which was almost in the centre
of the French position. The moment was come for a general advance,
and the Duke, with that wonderful perception which distinguished
his whole career, instantly seized it. He himself describes this
critical moment, in the account written the very next day. He
says:--
“Having observed that the troops (Imperial Guard) retired from this
attack in great confusion, and that the march of the Prussians
on Planchenoit had begun to take effect, I determined to attack
the enemy, and immediately advanced the whole line of infantry,
supported by the cavalry and artillery.”
An eye-witness thus described the scene at the time, “The Duke, who
had been attentively observing what was passing in the French and
Prussian armies, suddenly shut up his telescope, and exclaimed to
the officers near him, ‘Now, every man must advance!’”
Long had this order been eagerly expected. The British troops
had stood for more than eight hours under a terrible fire. They
had seen more than one-fourth of their numbers struck down by
cannon-shot, and they longed for one final struggle, which should
end the whole contest. The order flew to the right and to the left,
and loud were the shouts with which it was received. Everywhere the
lines of infantry were formed, the cavalry mounted and rode on, and
a scene of triumph and exultation commenced, of which none who
witnessed it could ever lose the memory.
We have observed, a few sentences back, that only half an hour
before, two brigades of light cavalry, Vivian’s and Vandeleur’s,
had been moved from the extreme left of the English line, and
brought nearer to the centre. These six regiments, numbering
about 2000 sabres, were now of the greatest possible service, in
driving before them the broken and scattered French. They charged
and dispersed various bodies of cavalry which attempted to form
and make a stand, and continued pressing upon the fugitives of
the infantry till the whole mass of Napoleon’s army melted into
a chaotic crowd. And now were seen, on all sides, “unfurled
colours raised aloft, bands striking up, the soldiers cheering
tumultuously, as, with one simultaneous movement, they quitted the
height on which they had so long stood, and descended joyfully into
the plain, over which the French, on all sides, were now retreating
in disorder.”
Their great commander himself was naturally among the foremost in
this magnificent advance. Napier says, “The Duke, who was stationed
on the left of the guns and the right of the Guards, gave the order
to advance, and like lightning rode to the rear, and brought up the
light cavalry, cheering them on, with his hat off--his cheers most
cordially echoed by my brave fellows and myself.” He rode in front
of Adam’s brigade, cheering it forward, speaking joyously to the
men, and receiving their hearty shouts of congratulation. At last
one of his staff ventured to hint to him that they were getting
into the enemy’s lines, and that his life ought not to be thrown
away. “Never mind,” was the reply, “the battle’s won, and my life
is of no consequence now.”
Down the slope of their own heights, across the valley, up the
face of the enemy’s hill, marched the British line triumphantly.
Here and there a remnant of a French battalion or squadron offered
a brief resistance; but the cry of “_Sauve qui peut!_” had been
heard, and the French knew that the battle was lost, and that the
Prussians were already in their rear. Hence Fleury de Chaboulon,
Napoleon’s own secretary, thus describes the close:--