On the morning of the 17th, the interior of the farm-yard of
Quatre-Bras presented to the eye a scene of unparalleled horror. The
whole of the ground within was literally dyed with blood, and the
inside of the walls was also very much stained with it. Some idea may
be formed of its appearance, when I state on the authority of a surgeon
who dressed a great many of the wounded, that at one period of the
battle, there were nearly a thousand wounded soldiers belonging to
the 3d and 5th divisions in that narrow space. The cries of the poor
fellows were most heart-rending, and the appearance of the mangled and
mutilated corpses which strewed the square in every direction, was so
ghastly and appaling, that he must have possessed a heart of adamant,
who could have entered that place of death and lamentation, without
being sensibly affected. While I live, I shall ever retain a vivid
recollection of the farm-yard of Quatre-Bras, on the evening of the
16th, and morning of the 17th of June 1815.
It is quite wonderful how very close a cannon-ball or a shell will
sometimes pass the head of a person, without doing them any permanent
injury. In the action of the 16th, at Quatre-Bras, a man named Milne,
standing close to me, had his bonnet knocked off his head by a cannon
shot, and carried several yards across the road. On the collision
between the ball and the bonnet taking place, Milne turned quickly
round to me, and with a wildness in his countenance, said, "Do you see
that, Sir?" During the remainder of that day, and the two following, he
exhibited a weakness of intellect, not peculiar to him, but with that
exception, he sustained no other injury.
On the left side of the road leading from Quatre-Bras to Ligny, a bank
rose eight or ten feet above the crown of the highway, which trifling
circumstance was occasionally the means of placing a few of our men in
no little jeopardy. For on hitting the bank, the shells frequently came
dancing across the road to their own music, till they arrived in the
ditch among the Highlanders. One of those dangerous characters having
rather impudently intruded himself into our society, a few paces from
where I was standing, some of my neighbours attempted to fly, but as
the greater proportion preferred an extended position in the ditch, a
most ludicrous scramble took place, for the honour of being undermost.
In a few seconds, however, the shell exploded, without doing us any
more mischief, than wounding slightly two of our men.
Almost one of the last shells fired by the enemy that evening, lighted
within half-a-yard of me, and immediately exploded. But on perceiving
it fall, I threw myself flat on the ground, and thereby escaped without
a scratch.
Immediately after being wounded, Colonel Cameron, of the 92d regiment,
was removed from Quatre-Bras to Genappe, where, on the wound being
examined, it was discovered to be mortal. On the following morning he
was placed in a waggon, with the view of being conveyed to Brussels.
On the way, he complained greatly of the jolting of the carriage, and
repeatedly inquired if the French had been defeated. On getting an
answer in the affirmative, he said, "Then I die happy!" On receiving
an answer to one of his questions, a little before his speech failed
him, he added, "I hope my country will think I have done enough,--I
hope she will think that I have served her faithfully." When close
to the village of WATERLOO, the gallant Colonel laid back his head
on his servant's arm, and expired. To shew the estimation in which
the services of this truly brave officer were held by his Sovereign,
Mr Ewen Cameron, of Fassifern, the Colonel's father, was raised to
the rank of a Baronet of the United Kingdom. And on his native hills
a handsome monument was erected, on which there is the following
inscription, written by Sir Walter Scott.
Sacred to the Memory
OF
COLONEL JOHN CAMERON,
Eldest Son of Sir Ewen Cameron of Fassifern, Baronet;
Whose Mortal Remains,
Transported from the Field of Glory, where he died,
Rest here with those of his Forefathers.
During Twenty years of active Military Service,
With a spirit which knew no fear, and shunned no danger;
He accompanied or led,
In Marches, in Sieges, in Battles,
The gallant 92nd Regiment of Scottish Highlanders,
Always to Honour, almost always to Victory;
And at length,
In the Forty-second year of his age,
Upon the memorable 16th day of June, A.D. 1815,
Was slain in the command of that corps,
While actively contributing to achieve the decisive
Victory of
WATERLOO,
Which gave peace to Europe,
Thus closing his Military career
With the long and eventful struggle in which,
His services had been so often distinguished,--
He died lamented
By that unrivalled General,
To whose long train of Success and Victory
He had so often contributed.
By his Country,
From which he had repeatedly received marks
Of the highest consideration;
And
By His Sovereign,
Who graced his surviving family
With those marks of honour,
Him whose merit They were designed to commemorate.
READER,
Call not his fate untimely,
Who thus honoured and lamented,
Closed a Life of Fame, by a Death of Glory.
Seated behind the houses of Quatre-Bras on the morning of the 17th, I
received a message from a wounded soldier, named Robinson, intimating
that he was in possession of a book which he was sure I would like
to read. I lost no time in visiting him, and on opening the volume,
was not a little surprised on discovering it to be the history of
Scotland's champion, Sir William Wallace, once the property of a French
soldier, whose name was inscribed on one of the blank leaves, and who
had no doubt fallen in the conflict in the after-part of the 16th. At
that time the histories of Wallace and Bruce were much read by the
French soldiers; and I believe it is a well authenticated fact, that
Bonaparte seldom went on a campaign without a copy of Ossian's Poems in
his possession.
Envy, we are told, is the blackest passion in the human breast, and the
most prevailing infirmity to which we are subject. History affords us
the most decisive proof we could desire, that it has often tarnished
the character of men, who otherwise had a well-earned title to fame and
renown. What, for example, has tarnished the character of Alexander the
Great, so much as this unamiable passion, which reigned in his breast
with sovereign authority during the whole of his extraordinary career?
Since that period, how many thousands of Alexanders has this world of
ours contained? How many are there even at this moment amongst us, who,
like the great conqueror, ambitious of nothing so much as to rise to
the first rank in the scale of human society, envy every individual who
excel them in any of those arts or sciences which rivet the attention,
and command the admiration of the world? That the Duke of Wellington
has been deeply indebted to the members of this rather amiable society,
for the many slanderous reports circulated during the last thirty
years, in regard to his military conduct in India, &c. there cannot be
the smallest doubt. Like many other dupes, I gave ear to the gossip of
the day, and for some time credit to it. For although courage is a most
indispensable qualification in every general at the head of an army,
yet history is not without examples of generals deficient in valour,
not only performing their duties satisfactorily, but even raising
their own and their country's glory by splendid victories. But all the
doubts I had previously entertained on the subject were completely
dissipated at Quatre-Bras. For there the Field-Marshal gave proofs to
the world, which no individual, however venomous his tongue may be, can
controvert, that he possesses moral courage in as eminent a degree as
any general that ever entered a field of strife. How would his Grace's
slanderers have looked, if stationed within a few yards of him, as I
was for four hours on the 16th, and there beheld him, amidst showers
of every description of shot, directing the movements of his columns
with that firmness and coolness, so characteristic of the brave and
consummate warrior? The very smile which sat on his countenance during
the whole of the action, would have struck them dumb, and covered
them with such a load of shame and disgrace, that they would have
embraced the first opportunity afforded them, of hiding their convicted
countenances from the stern glance of the object of their envy.
Some people seem to think, that a general at the head of an army is
bound to expose himself on all occasions in the same manner as any of
the junior officers. A more erroneous opinion, however, of the duties
of a general, could not well be conceived; for it is the bounden duty
of a general-in-chief, never, but in cases of the very last importance,
to expose to unnecessary peril, a life upon which so many others
depend. As a general-in-chief owes obedience to none but his sovereign,
it belongs to him exclusively to judge how far he ought to expose
himself, and those under him, in order to accomplish the object of his
commission; and in proportion as his life is more necessary for that
object than the lives of his soldiers, in the same proportion should
he be more sparing of it than of the lives of his men. A general in
fact ought never to expose his life without a necessary cause, or the
prospect of reaping such important advantages, that the risk he runs
may be trifling in comparison of the successes which he hopes to obtain
by it.
About five o'clock in the morning of the 17th, the Duke of Wellington
arrived at Quatre-Bras from Genappe, and the morning being rather cold,
his Grace, on alighting, said, "Ninety-second, will you favour me
with a little fire?" The request had no sooner escaped his lips, than
a hundred men flew in as many different directions, in search of the
necessary materials. On returning, the men made a fire opposite to the
door of a small hut, constructed of the boughs of some trees, which the
poor fellows attempted to render a residence suitable for the reception
of their General. For their attention, the Duke expressed himself
extremely grateful. In this splendid airy residence, the Field-Marshal
received the Prince of Orange, Lord Hill, and many other officers of
distinction; in this rural cottage he received the first tidings of
Blucher's misfortunes,--and here it was that the order of retreat to
the position of Waterloo was arranged.
On the arrival of Lord Hill to pay his respects to the Duke of
Wellington, the whole regiment, officers and men, embraced the
opportunity of testifying their regard for the character of that brave
and estimable nobleman. On quitting the hut, he was greeted with loud
and long continued plaudits. Turning round, his Lordship approached
us hat in hand, much affected, the men continuing to salute him with
cheers which proceeded from the heart. The Duke, conceiving that our
cheers proceeded from a very different cause, came hurriedly out of his
wooden house, but on perceiving the true one, his Grace laughed, and
appeared quite delighted with the mark of respect which "her nainsel'
had paid to his friend and favourite General."
Previous to the receipt of Blucher's dispatches, we were all in high
spirits, anticipating a splendid victory over the French Marshal before
night, never doubting but Blucher would find employment for Bonaparte,
while we amused ourselves with Ney. But from the moment that Blucher's
retreat was known, our spirits became depressed; a gloom stole over
the countenances of the whole; every individual was more or less
affected; and I am inclined to think that the breast of none was more
agitated than that of our illustrious chief. On receiving the unwelcome
intelligence, the Duke shut himself up in the hut for some time, then
came out, and walked alone in front of it for nearly an hour in deep
meditation. Now and then he was interrupted by a courier bearing a
dispatch, who, on delivering it, instantly retired to some distance,
there to wait his General's orders. The Field-Marshal walked at the
rate of three and a-half to four miles in the hour. His left hand was
thrown carelessly behind his back, and in his right he held a small
switch, one end of which he frequently put to his mouth, apparently
unconscious that he was doing so. His dress was white pantaloons,
half-boots, a military vest, _white neckcloth_, blue surtout, and
cocked-hat.
Soon after this the most exaggerated statements were circulated
regarding the defeat of the Prussian army. At one time the loss was
rated at 20,000 killed, wounded, and prisoners; at another, their loss
in prisoners alone, exceeded that number. Every thing, in short, wore
the most gloomy appearance imaginable. In the full belief, therefore,
that our allies had been totally routed, we commenced our retreat at
ten o'clock, A.M. on the 17th of June, from the scene of our first
triumph, towards the glorious plains of Waterloo.
To cover his real design, the Duke ordered the 3rd and 5th divisions to
remain in front of Quatre-Bras, till the artillery, the foreign troops,
and the other divisions should be considerably advanced on their
journey. This manœuvre completely succeeded, for the retreat was never
observed by the crafty Napoleon, until his equally sagacious antagonist
was out of the reach of pursuit.
On perceiving us making off, the enemy pushed forward large masses of
cavalry to harass our rear-guard, composed of the British light and
heavy dragoons. Many brilliant charges were made on the occasion, in
every one of which, where the latter were engaged, the French were
invariably beat back. The light cavalry were not quite so successful.
While ascending the heights in rear of Genappe, the body of the gallant
Duke of Brunswick passed us stretched on a waggon, with the fatal
wound in his breast, exposed to public view. To that deadly wound,
the soldiers guarding the precious relic, often pointed, and swore to
avenge ten-fold, the death of their lamented Prince.
On the height above Genappe, the 5th division halted about
half-an-hour. During which time, a few men were tried for wantonly
firing away their ammunition. This is a common practice among foreign
troops, and on occasions similar to this, it is but too much so among
our own. It cannot, however, be too much reprobated, for besides being
detrimental to the service, it endangers the life of many a brave
soldier.
On the morning of the 17th, the weather was hazy, but before ten it had
begun to clear up, and at noon the day was beautiful. About one, the
air was extremely sultry, half-an-hour later, the clouds began to lour,
and about two, thunder was faintly heard. In a few minutes, the horizon
was darkened--the lightning flashed--the thunder rolled in terrific
peals--and rain and hail poured upon us in prodigious quantities. In
fine, one would have imagined that the elements had conspired with men,
to render the events passing on earth the most important and dreadful
recorded in history. In the midst of this tempest, we proceeded on our
way, wading through mud and water to the knees. On our arrival on the
position of Waterloo, we were ordered to bivouac in a newly-ploughed
field, then little better than a clay puddle. By this time we were
thoroughly drenched, our baggage was not to be found, and to add to
other miseries, we could not get a drop of water to quench our thirst.
To procure a supply, a fatigue party was ordered to Waterloo. Being
first for that duty, I proceeded as ordered, and found draw-wells in
abundance, _but the ropes had all been removed_, whether intentionally
or not, I cannot say, but appearances were certainly against the
Belgians. As a substitute, I buckled a few canteen straps together,
but even these, aided by some fathoms of rope, did not carry a can to
the bottom of any of the wells. After numerous fruitless attempts to
get our canteens filled, we returned to our bivouac, where misery in
its most hideous form stared us in the face. Just let any man fancy
himself seated on a few small twigs, or a little straw in a newly
ploughed field, well soaked with six hours heavy rain; his feet six or
eight inches deep in mud, cold, wet, and hungry, without fire, without
meat,--without drink, and a thin blanket his only shelter from the
mid-night hurricane, and he will have a faint idea of what we suffered
on the night of the 17th, and morning of the memorable 18th of June.
A sound sleep being a luxury which the men could not expect to enjoy,
they seated themselves in pairs, and with their blankets around them,
and their backs to the storm, amused each other as they best could till
morning.