As soon as it was known in Brussels that the allied army had retired
from Quatre-Bras, and the Prussians from Ligny, the whole population
was thrown into a state of agitation not to be described. The 17th was
a day of alarm, the 18th one of horror. That part of the old ramparts
which faces Waterloo, was crowded at an early hour with people of
every description. Until nearly two o'clock, all was conjecture, but
from that hour wounded soldiers arrived every minute from the field of
blood. At one time it was said Napoleon had been defeated,--at another
that he was victorious, and would enter Brussels in the evening.
These reports threw the good people into a state of mind bordering on
insanity. At first the wounded were few and far between, but in a short
time the road was covered with them. About half-past four the alarm of
the citizens was at its height,--a French column having been seen on
its march to Brussels, but whether as victors or prisoners none could
tell, for none had ever inquired. By and bye the column entered, 2000
in number, but not as was anticipated by every body, victors,--but
as prisoners of war, being those we captured at three o'clock. Fears
however still continued to haunt their breasts, for nothing could
convince them but that Napoleon must be the conqueror.
On the arrival of our wounded in Brussels, all ranks vied with each
other in acts of personal kindness and attention. Many of the most
respectable inhabitants, ladies as well as gentlemen, waited their
arrival at the gates, and to each soldier distributed wine, tea,
coffee, soup, bread, and cordials of various descriptions. Those who
remained at home ministered to the wants of the poor maimed houseless
wanderers; dressed their wounds, and if unable, from the severity of
their wounds, to proceed farther, a bed was immediately provided for
them, on which they might rest their wearied and fractured limbs.
In almost every house there were wounded soldiers. In order to shew
the number quartered in these houses, and the country to which they
belonged, the inhabitants affixed a paper on their windows or their
doors, intimating that they had four wounded English, or four wounded
Scotch, &c. Nothing could exceed the attention of the ladies to their
patients. In the house where I was quartered there were three ladies,
the mother and two daughters. The latter always visited the hospitals
morning and evening, taking with them such articles of food or raiment
as they thought the sufferers required. One morning the youngest
returned in tears. Having seen a number of bad cases, the amiable and
humane little creature thought that she would be able to view without
shrinking the mangled frame of an unfortunate artillery officer, who
had lost both his legs. But on entering his chamber, she found the poor
sufferer in the agonies of death. This being more than she could bear,
she burst into tears--hurried from the apartment--and returned home in
the state of mind previously described.
In the Rue de l'Empereur, another family, consisting of an aged mother,
a son, and three daughters, set apart two front rooms of the street
floor for the accommodation of the wounded. One of them was fitted up
with mattresses for those who were completely disabled, and the other
as a laboratory and cooking apartment, where all those who could stroll
about had their wounds dressed by the young ladies. Whatever medicines
or nourishments was required, were distributed with a bountiful hand.
The French wounded were almost all placed in the city hospitals, or the
houses of those who had shewn themselves to be any thing but friendly
to the pending struggle. Many of the poor wretches, although not able
to lift their heads from their pillows, kept constantly crying, "Vive
l'Empereur!" One day an officer sent by Louis XVIII. went round the
various hospitals to inquire into the wants of the patients, and offer
assistance to all who required it. But they replied that they had no
king but one, "Vive l'Empereur;" and one of them, finding he had but
a short time to live, converted the cry into a kind of song, which he
chaunted as long as he could speak.
At the close of the memorable charge made by us at three o'clock, a
friend of mine made lawful prize of a beautiful charger, very richly
caparisoned. The richness of the furniture led him to expect a pair
of handsome pistols in the holsters, but on opening them, he was
most agreeably disappointed to find that a good bottle of champaigne
occupied the one, and the leg of a fowl and piece of bread the other.
Our mouths being much parched at the time, the bottle was instantly
decapitated by my friend's sword, who being of a very generous
disposition, shared the wine with another officer and myself. It was,
without exception, the most delicious glass of champaigne I ever drank.
A French general who was made prisoner on the 18th, having on various
occasions rendered himself rather conspicuous by his entire devotion
to the cause of the Usurper, was very roughly treated on entering
Brussels. To court the favour of the populace, the general had no
sooner entered the city, than he, in a true turn-coat style, cried,
"Vive le Roi!" But he soon found that he had committed a most
egregious blunder, for, indignant at his bare-faced impudence, the
people pelted him with mud and offals, till he quitted the city at the
other extremity.
Immediately after the battle, the Bonapartists charged Marshals Ney and
Grouchy, with all the misfortunes that had befallen the French army
on the 16th and 18th of June. Ney, in a letter to Fouché, attempted
to exculpate himself from so foul a charge, but his conduct to Louis
XVIII. had made so deep an impression on the minds of the people, that
his statement was not generally credited. With us, however, the charge
was looked upon as a patched up story, to lessen the glory achieved by
the allied armies on the plains of Waterloo.
The fact is, that Napoleon was not betrayed by his Marshals, but by
himself. Every man who betrays a friend, is ever after deemed unworthy
to associate with honourable men. How much more unworthy must that man
be who betrays the interests of his legitimate sovereign, and those
of thirty millions of his countrymen? This being the Marshal's crime,
was it possible for the French troops either to respect a man loaded
with so much guilt, or to place the smallest confidence in him in
the hour of danger? I should think not. And therefore conceive that
Bonaparte, by appointing Ney to the command of the troops destined to
act against the Duke of Wellington on the 16th, actually betrayed his
own interests; for it was notorious, that it was want of confidence in
their leader which made from forty to fifty thousand French soldiers,
recoil before a force not more than half their number, during the
struggle at Quatre-Bras. Had the Marshal's honour been as pure as in
his former campaigns, the retreat of some of his troops, so far as
Charleroi that afternoon, would never have taken place. No; a single
word from his lips would at once have arrested any attempt of the kind.
Knowing, therefore, as Bonaparte did, that to Ney's tainted character,
he owed a considerable portion of the disgrace brought on his arms
at Quatre-Bras, was it not the act of a madman to appoint the same
individual to a prominent command on the 18th, and thereby to prepare
the way for a fresh defeat, and all its accompanying ills? But tyrants
and traitors deserve no better fate than that which overtook Napoleon
and his Marshal on the plains of Waterloo.
With regard to the charge against Grouchy, there are no better grounds
for it, than the one preferred against his brother Marshal. There
is not a doubt but both of them did every thing in their power to
secure the victory to their master. The real cause of this charge
being preferred at all, may, therefore, I imagine, be traced to the
following source. Calculating upon Blucher continuing his retreat,
or upon his utter inability to render the Duke of Wellington any
efficient assistance for some days, Bonaparte made arrangements for a
general attack upon the position of the latter at Waterloo, to favour
which, instructions were dispatched to Grouchy to assault that of the
Prussians at Wavre with great vigour. Having made his calculations
on a false data, as regarded the capabilities of the Prussians to
assist their allies, and not discovering his error till on the eve of
engaging the allied army, Napoleon found himself all at once placed
in a ticklish, or rather in what may be termed, a false position. To
extricate himself from this dilemma, two alternatives offered--to
retreat--or to endeavour to force the position of the allies, before
the Prussians could arrive to their assistance. It has been shewn that
he preferred the latter, and was routed. And to throw part of the blame
of this step from his own shoulders, Bonaparte trumped up the charge
against Grouchy, which was altogether discredited by every member of
the allied or Prussian armies.
How are they bandied up and down by fate,
By so much more unhappy as they're great?
Whenever a man permits ambition to obtain such an ascendancy over
his mind, as to lead him to aspire to the summit of all earthly
greatness, from that moment he must be prepared to bear up against
every variety of fortune that can assail the human race. To an
ambitious man like Napoleon Bonaparte, who raises himself from a
very humble condition, to be the arbiter of nations, the temptations
of power, wealth, and pleasure, are frequently so powerful, as to
urge him to put in force every species of dissimulation, and every
description of treachery, rather than not accomplish the object he
has in view. A man like him, previous to being placed at the helm of
affairs, is continually muttering something about public liberty,
and public good, but the moment he fancies himself so firmly fixed
in the royal-seat that he cannot be removed, his song is instantly
converted into personal honours and personal riches. When a sovereign,
like Napoleon, permits all his views to centre in family interests
or personal aggrandisement,--when the sole object of his pursuit is
worldly success, rank and fortune, can his people have any other
feeling towards him, than unqualified hatred and contempt? Let those
of a similar description, who may follow in the wake of Napoleon,
reflect seriously on the course they are pursuing, before it is too
late, lest, like him, they may ultimately be made to feel the weight of
that irresistible arm which is continually suspended over the heads of
tyrants, to avenge the cause of the injured and the oppressed.
When two nations are at war, and one of them finds it necessary to
submit to the mercy of the other, it exhibits neither a prudent
or magnanimous policy on the part of the conqueror, to impose
dishonourable terms on the vanquished, when others far less severe may
amply suffice. Few have pursued this short-sighted policy to greater
lengths than Napoleon Bonaparte, and none have had greater cause to
repent of their conduct. For to what else can we attribute the powerful
opposition he met with on his journey towards universal dominion, in
the latter years of his extraordinary reign? To what but his tyrannical
and iniquitous conduct towards Spain and Portugal, did he owe the
Peninsular war. To what but his insolent and domineering conduct
towards all those nations who owned him as a superior or an ally,
did he owe the war in Russia in 1812, and those in Germany in 1813
and 1814. Borne to the earth by a grinding tyranny, the inhabitants
of those countries, imitating the example of those who had gone
before them, turned round on their oppressor at the first favourable
opportunity, and with their strength and their courage, increased
by despair, rushed against his legions like a torrent, and in their
efforts to emancipate themselves from a degrading state of thraldom,
continued to perform almost supernatural feats of personal heroism,
until they either obtained their object, or died in the attempt. These
facts clearly point out the course which every crowned head ought to
pursue, who wishes to live respected, and die lamented--they must
invariably adopt towards all nations and individuals, a line of policy
governed by honour, justice, and humanity.
A charge of cowardice has been preferred against Bonaparte, and by
Christian lips too, because he did not choose to die the death of a
suicide on the field of Waterloo. To exculpate him from this charge,
it is only necessary to remind his accusers, that--
Our time is fixed, and all our days are numbered;
How long, how short we know not: this we know,
Duty requires us calmly wait the summons,
_Nor dare to stir, till HEAVEN shall give permission_.
Like sentries that must keep their destined stand
And wait the appointed hour till they're relieved.
_Those ONLY are the brave who keep their ground,
And keep it to the last._
From Waterloo, the French army retreated towards Paris, in a state
of complete disorganization, hotly pursued by the Duke of Wellington
and Prince Blucher. The Duke entered France by Bavay, the Prince by
Beaumont. From Malplacquet, the English General, on the 21st June,
addressed a proclamation to the French people, intimating that he
was about to enter their country to assist them in throwing off the
iron yoke of Napoleon. On the following day his head-quarters were at
La-Cateau. On the 24th, Sir Charles Colville captured Cambray, and on
the 26th, Louis XVIII. entered it on his way to Paris. The same day
General Maitland, with a brigade of Guards, took possession of Peronne,
after a slight resistance.
On the arrival of the united armies in the vicinity of the capital,
preparations were made to drive the remains of the French army from
it, or compel the whole to surrender. Blucher, crossing the Seine
at St Germain, on the 1st July, advanced towards the capital by St
Cloud, on the heights of which he was warmly received on the 2nd by
the enemy, but after a severe conflict, he succeeded in establishing
himself in the village of Issy. Here, however, he was attacked early
on the following morning, but finally beat off his assailants.
Failing in this attempt, and seeing the allied army ready to storm
their entrenchments on the north of the city, the enemy solicited a
suspension of hostilities, and the same evening agreed to quit the
capital, and retire behind the Loire. The French troops accordingly
began their march on the 4th, and by the afternoon of the 6th the whole
had proceeded towards their destination. The Prussian and allied armies
entered Paris on the 7th, and Louis XVIII. on the following day.
Some of the regiments newly arrived from America, were thrown
into Montmartre, and one brigade of British infantry occupied the
Champs-Elysees. The rest of the British army were encamped in the Bois,
de-Boulogne, and down the right bank of the Seine, as far as St Ouen.
Several of the gates of Paris were held by British, and the remainder
by the troops of the other allied powers. For some days our officers
were openly insulted in the streets, and more than one of them actually
spit upon from the windows of several houses near the Palais-Royal.
In company with a medical friend, I quitted Brussels in the first week
of July, and proceeding by Braine, La-Compte, Mons, Bavay, Cateau,
La-Chatelet, Peronne, Roya, Gournay, Pont-de-St-Maxance, and the
Louvre, rejoined my corps, encamped behind the village of Clichy, on
the right bank of the Seine.