WATERLOO
Would Wellington hold on to his position? This was the thought that
troubled the Emperor on the night after the wild chase from Quatre
Bras. Before retiring to rest at the Caillou farm, he went to the
front with Bertrand and a young officer, Gudin by name, and peered at
the enemy's fires dimly seen through the driving sheets of rain.
Satisfied that the allies were there, he returned to the farm,
dictated a few letters on odious parliamentary topics, and then sought
a brief repose. But the same question drove sleep from his eyes. At
one o'clock he was up again and with the faithful Bertrand plashed to
the front through long rows of drenched recumbent forms. Once more
they strained their ears to catch through the hiss of the rain some
sound of a muffled retirement. Strange thuds came now and again from
the depths of the wood of Hougoumont: all else was still. At last,
over the slope on the north-east crowned by the St. Lambert Wood there
stole the first glimmer of gray; little by little the murky void
bodied forth dim shapes, and the watch-fires burnt pale against the
orient gleams. It was enough. He turned back to the farm. Wellington
could scarcely escape him now.
While the Emperor was making the round of his outposts, a somewhat
cryptic despatch from Grouchy reached headquarters. The Marshal
reported from Gembloux, at 10 p.m. of the 17th, that part of the
Prussians had retired towards Wavre, seemingly with a view to joining
Wellington; that their centre, led by Blücher, had fallen back on
Perwez in the direction of Liège; while a column with artillery had
made for Namur; if he found the enemy's chief force to be on the Liège
_chaussée_, he would pursue them along that road; if towards Wavre, he
would follow them thither "in order that they may not gain Brussels,
and so as to separate them from Wellington." This last phrase ought
surely to have convinced Napoleon that Grouchy had not fully
understood his instructions; for to march on Wavre would not stop the
Prussians joining Wellington, if they were in force.[503]
Moreover, Napoleon now knew, what Grouchy did not know, that the
Prussians were in force at Wavre. It seems strange that the Emperor
did not send this important news to his Marshal; but perhaps we may
explain this by his absence at the outposts. As it was, no clear
statement of the facts of the case was sent off to Grouchy _until 10
a.m. of the 18th_. He then informed his Marshal that, according to all
the reports, three bodies of Prussians had made for Wavre. Grouchy
"must therefore move thither--in order to approach us, to put yourself
within the sphere of our operations, and to keep up your
communications with us, pushing before you those bodies of Prussians
which have taken this direction and which may have stopped at Wavre,
where you ought to arrive as soon as possible." Grouchy, however, was
not to neglect Blücher's troops that were on his right, but must pick
up their stragglers and keep up his communications with Napoleon.
Such was the letter; and again we must pronounce it far from clear.
Grouchy was not bidden to throw all his efforts on the side of Wavre;
and he was not told whether he must attack the enemy at that town, or
interpose a wedge between them and Wellington, or support Napoleon's
right. Now Napoleon would certainly have prescribed an immediate
concentration of Grouchy's force towards the north-west for one of the
last two objects, had he believed Blücher about to attempt a flank
march against the chief French army. Obviously it had not yet entered
his thoughts that so daring a step would be taken by a foe whom he
pictured as scattered and demoralized by defeat.[504]
As we have seen, the Prussians were not demoralized; they had not gone
off in three directions; and Blücher was not making for Liège. He was
at Wavre and was planning a master-stroke. At midnight, he had sent to
Wellington, through Müffling, a written promise that at dawn he would
set the corps of Bülow in motion against Napoleon's right; that of
Pirch I. was to follow; while the other two corps would also be ready
to set out. Wellington received this despatch about 3 a.m. of the
18th, and thereupon definitely resolved to offer battle. A similar
message was sent off from Wavre at 9.30 a.m., but with a postscript,
in which we may discern Gneisenau's distrust of Wellington, begging
Müffling to find out accurately whether the Duke really had determined
to fight at Waterloo. Meanwhile Bülow's corps had begun its march from
the south-east of Wavre, but with extreme slowness, which was due to a
fire at Wavre, to the crowded state of the narrow road, and also to
the misgivings of Gneisenau. It certainly was not owing to fear of
Grouchy; for at that time the Prussian leaders believed that only
15,000 French were on their track. Not until midday, when the
cannonade on the west grew to a roar, did Gneisenau decide to send
forward Ziethen's corps towards Ohain, on Wellington's left; but
thereafter the defence of the Dyle against Grouchy was left solely to
Thielmann's corps.[505]
While this storm was brewing in the east, everything in front of the
Emperor seemed to portend a prosperous day. High as he rated
Wellington's numbers, he had no doubt as to the result. "The enemy's
army," he remarked just after breakfast, "outnumbers ours by more than
a fourth; nevertheless we have ninety chances out of a hundred in our
favour." Ney, who then chanced to come in, quickly remarked: "No
doubt, sire, if Wellington were simple enough to wait for you; but I
come to inform you that he is retreating." "You have seen wrong," was
the retort, "the time is gone for that." Soult did not share his
master's assurance of victory, and once more begged him to recall some
of Grouchy's force; to which there came the brutal reply: "Because you
have been beaten by Wellington you think him a great general. And I
tell you that Wellington is a bad general, that the English are bad
troops, and that this will be the affair of a _déjeuner_." "I hope it
may," said Soult. Reille afterwards came in, and, finding how
confident the Emperor was, mentioned the matter to D'Erlon, who
advised his colleague to return and caution him. "What is the use,"
rejoined Reille; "he would not listen to us."
In truth, Napoleon was in no mood to receive advice. He admitted on
the voyage to St. Helena that "he had not exactly reconnoitred
Wellington's position."[506] And, indeed, there seemed to be nothing
much to reconnoitre. The Mont St. Jean, or Waterloo, position does not
impress the beholder with any sense of strength. The so-called valley,
separating the two arrays, is a very shallow depression, nowhere more
than fifty feet below the top of the northern slope. It is divided
about halfway across by an undulation that affords good cover to
assailants about to attack La Haye Sainte. Another slight rise crosses
the vale halfway between this farm and Hougoumont, and facilitates the
approach to that part of the ridge. In fact, only on their extreme
left could the defenders feel much security; for there the slope is
steeper, besides being protected in front by marshy ground, copses,
and the hamlets of Papelotte, La Haye, and Smohain.
Napoleon paid little attention to the left wing of the allies. The
centre and right centre were evidently Wellington's weak points, and
there, especially near the transverse rise, our leader chiefly massed
his troops. Yet there, too, the defence had some advantages. The front
of the centre was protected by La Haye Sainte, "a strong stone and
brick building," says Cotton, "with a narrow orchard in front and a
small garden in the rear, both of which were hedged around, except on
the east side of the garden, where there was a strong wall running
along the high-road." It is generally admitted that Wellington gave
too little attention to this farm, which Napoleon saw to be the key of
the allied position. Loopholes were made in its south and east walls,
but none in the western wall, and half of the barn-door opening on the
fields had been torn off for firewood by soldiers overnight. The place
was held at first by 376 men of the King's German Legion, who threw up
a barricade at the barn-door, as also on the high-road outside the
orchard; but, as the sappers and carpenters were removed to
Hougoumont, little could be done.
Far stronger was the château of Hougoumont, which had been built with
a view to defence. The outbuildings were now loopholed, and scaffolds
were erected to enable our men to fire over the garden walls which
commanded the orchard. The defence was intrusted to the light
companies of the second battalions of Coldstreams and Foot Guards (now
the Grenadier Guards); while the wood in front was held by Nassauers
and Hanoverians. Chassé's Dutch-Belgians were posted at the village of
Braine la Leud to give further security to Wellington's right.[507]
Napoleon's intention was to pierce the allied centre behind La Haye
Sainte, where their lines were thin. But he did not know that behind
the crest ran a sunken cross-road, which afforded excellent cover, and
that the ground, sloping away towards Wellington's rear, screened his
second line and reserves.
It was this peculiarity of the ground, so different from that of the
exposed slope behind Ligny, that helped the great master of defensive
tactics secretly to meet and promptly to foil every onset of his
mighty antagonist.
While under-estimating the strength of Wellington's position Napoleon
over-rated his numbers. As we have seen, he remarked that the allies
exceeded the French by more than a fourth. Now, as his own numbers
were fully 74,000, he credited the allies with upwards of 92,000. In
reality, they were not more than 67,000, as Wellington had left 17,000
at Hal; but if this powerful detachment had been included, Napoleon's
estimate would not have been far wrong. At St. Helena he gave out that
his despatch of cavalry towards Hal had induced Wellington to weaken
his army to this extent; but Houssaye has shown that the statement is
an entire fabrication. The Emperor certainly believed that all
Wellington's troops were close at hand.[508]
The Duke, on his side, would doubtless have retreated had he known
that the Prussian advance would be as slow as it was. His composite
forces, in which five languages were spoken, were unfit for a long
contest with Napoleon's army. The Dutch-Belgian troops, numbering
17,000, were known to be half-hearted; the 2,800 Nassauers, who had
served under Soult in 1813, were not above suspicion; the 11,000
Hanoverians and 5,900 Brunswickers were certain to do their best, but
they were mostly raw troops. In fact, Wellington could thoroughly rely
only on his 23,990 British troops and the 5,800 men of the King's
German Legion; and among our men there was a large proportion of
recruits or drafts from militia battalions. Events were to prove that
this motley gathering could hold its own while at rest; but during the
subsequent march to Paris Wellington passed the scathing judgment
that, with the exception of his Peninsular men, it was "the worst
equipped army, with the worst staff, ever brought together."[509] This
was after he had lost De Lancey, Picton, Ponsonby, and many other able
officers; but on the morning of the 18th there was no lack of skill in
the placing of the troops, witness General Kennedy's arrangement of
Alten's division so that it might readily fall into the "chequer"
pattern, which proved so effective against the French horsemen.
Napoleon's confidence seemed to be well founded: he had 246 cannon
against the allies' 156, and his preponderance in cavalry of the line
was equally great. Above all, there were the 13,000 footmen of the
Imperial Guard, flanked by 3,000 cavaliers. The effective strength of
the two armies has been reckoned by Kennedy as in the proportion of
four to seven. Why, then, did he not attack at once? There were two
good reasons: first that his men had scattered widely overnight in
search of food and shelter, and now assembled very slowly on the
plateau; second, that the rain did not abate until 8 a.m., and even
then slight drizzles came on, leaving the ground totally unfit for the
movements of horse and artillery. Leaving the troops time to form and
the ground to improve, the Emperor consulted his charts and took a
brief snatch of sleep. He then rode to the front; and, as the
gray-coated figure passed along those imposing lines, the enthusiasm
found vent in one rolling roar of "Vive l'Empereur," which was wafted
threateningly to the thinner array of the allies. There the leader
received no whole-hearted acclaim save from the men who knew him; but
among these there was no misgiving. "If," wrote Major Simmons of the
95th, "you could have seen the proud and fierce appearance of the
British at that tremendous moment, there was not one eye but gleamed
with joy."[510]
The first shots were fired at 11.50 to cover the assault on the wood
of Hougoumont by Prince Jerome Bonaparte's division of Reille's corps.
The Nassauers and Hanoverians briskly replied, and Cleeve's German
battery opened fire with such effect that the leading column fell
back. Again the assailants came on in greater force under shelter of a
tremendous cannonade: this time they gained a lodgment, and step by
step drove the defenders back through the copse. Though checked for a
time by the Guards, they mastered the wood south of the house by about
one o'clock. There they should have stopped. Napoleon's orders were
for them to gain a hold only on the wood and throw out a good line of
skirmishers: all that he wanted on this side was to prevent any
turning movement from Wellington's advanced outposts. Reille also sent
orders not to attack the château; but the Prince and his men rushed on
at those massive walls, only to meet with a bloody repulse. A second
attack fared no better; and though some 12,000 of Reille's men
Finally attacked the mansion on three sides, yet our Guards, when
reinforced, beat off every onset of wellnigh ten times their numbers.
For some time the Emperor paid little heed to this waste of energy; at
2 p.m. he recalled Jerome to his side. He now saw the need of
husbanding his resources; for a disaster had overtaken the French
right centre. He had fixed one o'clock for a great attack on La Haye
Sainte by D'Erlon's corps of nearly 20,000 men. But a delay occurred
owing to a cause that we must now describe.
Before his great battery of eighty guns belched forth at the centre
and blotted out the view, he swept the horizon with his glass, and
discerned on the skirts of the St. Lambert wood, six miles away, a
dark object. Was it a spinney, or a body of troops? His staff officers
could not agree; but his experienced eye detected a military
formation. Thereupon some of the staff asserted that they must be
Blücher's men, others that they were Grouchy's. Here he could scarcely
be in a doubt. Not long after 10 a.m. he received from Grouchy a
despatch, dated from Gembloux at 3 a.m., reporting that the Prussians
were retiring in force on Brussels to concentrate or to join
Wellington, and that he (Grouchy) was on the point of starting for
Sart-à-Walhain and Wavre. He said nothing as to preventing any flank
march that the enemy might make from Wavre with a view to joining
their allies straightway. Therefore he was not to be looked for on
this side of Wavre, and those troops must consequently be
Prussians.[511]
All doubts were removed when a Prussian hussar officer, captured by
Marbot's vedettes near Lasne, was brought to Napoleon. He bore a
letter from Bülow to Müffling, stating that the former was on the
march to attack the French right wing. In reply to Napoleon's
questions the captain stated that Bülow's whole corps was in motion,
but wisely said nothing about the other two corps that were following.
Such as it was, the news in no way alarmed the Emperor. As Bülow was
about to march against the French flank, Grouchy must march on his
flank and take his corps _en flagrant délit_. That is the purport of
the postscript added to a rather belated reply that was about to be
sent off to Grouchy at 1 p.m. It did not reach him till 5 p.m., too
late to influence the result, even had he desisted from his attack on
Wavre, which he did not.[512]
We return to the Emperor's actions at half-past one. Dumont's and
Subervie's light horsemen were sent out towards Frischermont to
observe the Prussians; the great battery of eighty guns, placed on the
intermediate rise, now opened fire; and under cover of its deadly
blasts D'Erlon's four divisions dipped down into the valley. They were
ranged in closely packed battalions spread out in a front of some two
hundred men, a formation that Napoleon had not suggested, but did not
countermand. The left column, that of Alix, was supported by cavalry
on its flank. Part of this division gained the orchard of La Haye
Sainte, and attacked the farm buildings on all sides. From his
position hard by a great elm above the farm, Wellington had marked
this onset, and now sent down a Hanoverian battalion to succour their
compatriots; but in the cutting of the main road it was charged and
routed by Milhaud's cuirassiers, who pursued them up the slope until
the rally sounded. Farther to the east, the French seemed still surer
of victory. Bylandt's Dutch-Belgians, some 3,000 strong, after
suffering heavily in their cruelly exposed position, wavered at the
approach of Donzelot's column, and finally broke into utter rout,
pelted in their flight with undeserved gibes from the British in their
rear. These consisted of Picton's division, the heroes of Quatre Bras.
Here they had as yet sustained little loss, thanks to the shelter of
the hollow cross-road and a hedge.
The French columns now topped the ridge, uttering shouts of triumph,
and began to deploy into line for the final charge. This was the time,
as Picton well knew, to pour in a volley and dash on with the cold
steel; but as he cheered on his men, a bullet struck him in the temple
and cut short his brilliant career. His tactics were successful at
some points while at others our thin lines barely held up against the
masses. Certainly no decisive result could have been gained but for
the timely onset of Ponsonby's Union Brigade--the 1st Royal Dragoons,
the Scots Greys, and the Inniskillings.
At the time when Lord Uxbridge gave the order, "Royals and
Inniskillings charge, the Greys support," Alix's division was passing
the cross-road. But as the Royals dashed in, "the head of the column
was seized with a panic, gave us a fire which brought down about
twenty men, then went instantly about and endeavoured to regain the
opposite side of the hedges; but we were upon and amongst them, and
had nothing to do but press them down the slope." So wrote Captain
Clark Kennedy, who sabred the French colour-bearer and captured the
eagle. Equally brilliant was the charge of the Inniskillings, in the
centre of the brigade. They rode down Donzelot's division, jostled its
ranks into a helpless mass, and captured a great number of prisoners.
The Scots Greys, too, succouring the hard-pressed Gordons, fell
fiercely on Marcognet's division. "Both regiments," wrote Major
Winchester of the 92nd, "charged together, calling out 'Scotland for
ever'; the Scots Greys actually walked over this column, and in less
than three minutes it was totally destroyed. The grass field, which
was only an instant before as green and smooth as Phoenix Park, was
covered with killed and wounded, knapsacks, arms, and
accoutrements."[513]
Meanwhile, on the left of the brigade, Vandeleur's horse and some
Dutch-Belgian dragoons drove back Durutte's men past Papelotte. On its
right, the 2nd Life Guards cut up the cuirassiers while disordered by
the sudden dip of the hollow cross-road; and further to the west, the
1st Dragoon Guards and 1st Life Guards met them at the edge of the
plateau, clashed furiously, burst through them, and joined in the wild
charge of Ponsonby's brigade up the opposite slope, cutting the traces
of forty French cannon and sabring the gunners.
But Napoleon was awaiting the moment for revenge, and now sent forward
a solid force of lancers and dragoons, who fell on our disordered
bands with resistless force, stabbing the men and overthrowing their
wearied steeds. Here fell the gallant Ponsonby with hundreds of his
men, and, had not Vandeleur's horse checked the pursuit, very few
could have escaped. Still, this brigade had saved the day. Two of
D'Erlon's columns had gained a hold on the ridge, until the sudden
charge of our horsemen turned victory into a disastrous rout that cost
the French upwards of 5,000 men.
As if exhausted by this eager strife, both armies relaxed their
efforts for a space and re-formed their lines. Wellington ordered
Lambert's brigade of 2,200 Peninsular veterans, who had only arrived
that morning, to fill the gaps on his left. The Emperor, too, was
uneasy, as he showed by taking copious pinches of snuff. He mounted
his horse and rode to the front, receiving there the cheers of his
blood-stained lancers and battered infantry. Having received another
despatch from Grouchy which gave no hope of his speedy arrival, he
ordered his cannon once more to waste the British lines and bombard
Hougoumont, while Ney led two of D'Erlon's brigades that were the
least shaken to resume the attack on La Haye Sainte. Once more they
were foiled at the farm buildings by the hardy Germans, to whom
Wellington had sent a timely reinforcement.[514] At Hougoumont also
the Guards held firm, despite the fierce conflagration in the barn and
part of the chapel. But while his best troops everywhere stood their
ground, the Duke saw with concern the gaps in his fighting line. Many
of the Dutch-Belgians had made off to the rear; and Jackson, when
carrying an order to a reserve Dutch battery to advance--an order that
was disobeyed--saw what had become of these malingerers. "I peeped
into the skirts of the forest and truly felt astonished: entire
companies seemed there with regularly piled arms, fires blazing under
cooking kettles, while the men lay about smoking!"[515]
Far different was the scene at the front. There the third act of the
drama was beginning. After half an hour of the heaviest cannonade ever
known, Wellington's faithful troops were threatened by an avalanche of
cavalry, and promptly fell into the "chequer" disposition previously
arranged for the most exposed division, that of Alten. Napoleon
certainly hoped either to crush Wellington outright by a mighty onset
of horse, or to strip him bare for the _coup de grâce_. At the Caillou
farm in the morning he said: "I will use my powerful artillery; my
cavalry shall charge; and I will advance with my Old Guard." The use
of cavalry on a grand scale was no new thing in his wars. By it he had
won notable advantages, above all at Dresden; and he believed that
footmen, when badly shaken by artillery, could not stand before his
squadrons. The French cavalry, 15,000 strong at the outset, had as yet
suffered little, and the way had been partly cleared by the last
assaults on Hougoumont and La Haye Sainte, where the defenders were
wholly occupied in self-defence.
But Ney certainly pressed the first charge too soon. Doubtless he was
misled by the retirement of our first line a little way behind the
crest to gain some slight shelter from the iron storm. Looking on this
prudent move as a sign of retreat he led forward the cuirassiers of
Milhaud; and as these splendid brigades trotted forward, the
_chasseurs à cheval_ of the Guard and "red" lancers joined them. More
than 5,000 strong, these horsemen rode into the valley, formed at the
foot of the slope, and then, under cover of their artillery, began to
breast the slope. At its crest the guns of the allies opened on them
point-blank; but, despite their horrible losses, they swept on,
charged through the guns and down the reverse slope towards the
squares. Volley after volley now tore through with fearful effect, and
the survivors swerved to the intervals. Their second and third lines
fared little better; astonished at so stout a stand, where they looked
to find only a few last despairing efforts, they fell into faltering
groups.
"As to the so-called charges," says Basil Jackson, "I do not think
that on a single occasion actual collision occurred. I many times
saw the cuirassiers come on with boldness to within some twenty or
thirty yards of a square, when, seeing the steady firmness of our
men, they invariably edged away and retired. Sometimes they would
halt and gaze at the triple row of bayonets, when two or three
brave officers would advance and strive to urge the attack,
raising their helmets aloft on their sabres--but all in vain, as
no efforts could make the men close with the terrible bayonets,
and meet certain destruction."[516]
After the fire of the rear squares had done its work, our cavalry fell
on the wavering masses; and, as they rode off, the gunners ran forth
from the squares and plied them with shot. In a few minutes the
mounted host that seemed to have swallowed up the footmen was gone,
the red and blue chequers stood forth triumphant, and the guns that
should have been spiked dealt forth death. Down below, the confused
mass shaped itself for a new charge while its supports routed our
horsemen.
In this second attack Ney received a powerful reinforcement. The
Emperor ordered the advance of Kellermann and of Guyot with the heavy
cavalry of the Guard, thus raising the number of horsemen to about
10,000. At the head of these imposing masses Ney again mounted the
slope. But Wellington had strengthened his line by fresh troops,
ordering up also Mercer's battery of six 9-pounders, to support two
Brunswick regiments that wavered ominously as the French cannon-balls
tore through them. Would these bewildered lads stand before the wave
of horsemen already topping the crest? It seemed impossible. But just
then Mercer's men thundered up between them with the guns, took post
behind the raised cross-road, and opened on the galloping horsemen
with case-shot. At once the front was strewn with steeds and men; and
gunners and infantry riddled the successive ranks, that rushed on only
to pile up writhing heaps and bar retreat to the survivors in front.
Some of these sought safety by a dash through the guns, while the
greater number struggled and even laid about with their sabres to hew
their way out of this _battue_.
Elsewhere the British artillery was too exposed to be defended, and
the gunners again fled back to the squares. Once more the cavalry
surrounded our footmen, like "heavy surf breaking on a coast beset
with isolated rocks, against which the mountainous wave dashes with
furious uproar, breaks, divides, and runs hissing and boiling far
beyond." Yet, as before, it failed to break those stubborn blocks, and
a perplexing pause occurred, varied by partial and spasmodic rushes.
"Will those English never show us their backs"--exclaimed the Emperor,
as he strained his eyes to catch the first sign of rout "I fear,"
replied Soult, "they will be cut to pieces first." For the present, it
was the cavalry that gave way. Foiled by that indomitable infantry,
they were again charged by British and German hussars and driven into
the valley.
Once more Ney led on his riders, gathering up all his reserves. But
the Duke had now brought up Adam's brigade and Duplat's King's Germans
to the space behind Hougoumont; their fire took the horsemen in flank:
the blasts of grape and canister were as deadly as before: one and
all, the squares held firm, beating back onset after onset: and by 6
o'clock the French cavalry fell away utterly exhausted.[517]
Who is to be held responsible for these wasteful attacks, and why was
not French infantry at hand to hold the ground which the cavaliers
seemed to have won? Undoubtedly, Ney began the first attack somewhat
too early; but Napoleon himself strengthened the second great charge
by the addition of Kellermann's and Guyot's brigades, doubtless in the
belief that the British, of whose tenacity he had never had direct
personal proof, must give way before so mighty a mass. Moreover, time
after time it seemed that the attacks were triumphant; the allied guns
on the right centre, except Mercer's, were nine or ten times taken,
their front squares as often enveloped; and more than once the cry of
victory was raised by the Emperor's staff.
Why, then, was not the attack clinched by infantry? To understand this
we must review the general situation. Hougoumont still defied the
attacks of nearly the whole of Reille's corps, and the effective part
of D'Erlon's corps was hotly engaged at and near La Haye Sainte. Above
all, the advent of the Prussians on the French right now made itself
felt. After ceaseless toil, in which the soldiers were cheered on by
Blücher in person, their artillery was got across the valley of the
Lasne; and at 4.30 Bülow's vanguard debouched from the wood behind
Frischermont. Lobau's corps of 7,800 men, which, according to Janin,
was about to support Ney, now swung round to the right to check this
advance.[518] Towards 5 o'clock the Prussian cannon opened fire on the
horsemen of Domont and Subervie, who soon fell back on Lobau.
Bülow pressed on with his 30,000 men, and, swinging forward his left
wing, gained a footing in the village of Planchenoit, while Lobau fell
back towards La Belle Alliance. This took place between 5.30 and 6
o'clock, and accounts for Napoleon's lack of attention to the great
cavalry charges. To break the British squares was highly desirable;
but to ward off the Prussians from his rear was an imperative
necessity. He therefore ordered Duhesme with the 4,000 footmen of the
Young Guard to regain Planchenoit. Gallantly they advanced at the
charge, and drove their weary and half-famished opponents out into the
open.
Satisfied with this advantage, the Emperor turned his thoughts to the
British and bade Ney capture La Haye Sainte at all costs. Never was
duty more welcome. Mistakes and failures could now be atoned by
triumph or a soldier's death. Both had as yet eluded his search. Three
horses had been struck to the ground under him, but, dauntless as
ever, he led Donzelot's men, with engineers, against the farm.
Begrimed with smoke, hoarse with shouting, he breathed the lust of
battle into those half-despondent ranks; and this time he succeeded.
For five hours the brave Germans had held out, beating off rush after
rush, until now they had but three or four bullets apiece left. The
ordinary British ammunition did not fit their rifles; and their own
reserve supply could not be found at the rear. Still, even when firing
ceased, bayonet-thrusts and missiles kept off the assailants for a
space, even from the half-destroyed barn-door, until Frenchmen mounted
the roof of the stables and burst through the chief gateway: then
Baring and his brave fellows fled through the house to the garden. "No
pardon to these green devils" was now the cry, and those who could not
make off to the ridge were bayoneted to a man.[519]
This was a grave misfortune for the allies. French sharpshooters now
lined the walls of the farm and pushed up the ridge, pressing our
front very hard, so that, for a time, the space behind La Haye Sainte
was practically bare of defenders. This was the news that Kennedy took
to Wellington. He received it with the calm that bespoke a mighty
soul; for, as Sir A. Frazer observed, however indifferent or
apparently careless he might appear at the beginning of battles, as
the crisis came he rose superior to all that could be imagined. Such
was his demeanour now. Riding to the Brunswickers posted in reserve,
he led them to the post of danger; Kennedy rallied the wrecks of
Alten's division and brought up Germans from the left wing; the
cavalry of Vandeleur and Vivian, moving in from the extreme left, also
helped to steady the centre; and the approach of Chassé's
Dutch-Belgian brigade, lately called in from Braine-la-Leud,
strengthened our supports.
Had Napoleon promptly launched his Old and Middle Guard at
Wellington's centre, victory might still have crowned the French
eagles. But to Ney's request for more troops he returned the petulant
answer: "Troops? where do you want me to get them from? Am I to make
them?" At this time the Prussians were again masters of Planchenoit.
Once more, then, he turned on them, and sent in two battalions, one of
the Old, the other of the Middle Guard. In a single rush with the
bayonet these veterans mastered the place and drove Bülow's men a
quarter of a mile beyond, while Lobau regained ground further north.
But the head of Pirch's corps was near at hand to strengthen Bülow;
while, after long delays caused by miry lanes and an order from
Blücher to make for Planchenoit, Ziethen's corps began to menace the
French right at Smohain. Reiche soon opened fire with sixteen cannon,
somewhat relieving the pressure on Wellington's left.[520]
Still the Emperor was full of hope. He did not know of the approach of
Pirch and Ziethen. Now and again the muttering of Grouchy's guns was
heard on the east, and despite that Marshal's last despatch, Napoleon
still believed that he would come up and catch the Prussians.
Satisfied, then, with holding off Bülow for a while, he staked all on
a last effort with the Old and Middle Guard. Leaving two battalions of
these in Planchenoit, and three near Rossomme as a last reserve, he
led forward nine battalions formed in hollow squares. A thrill ran
through the line regiments, some of whom were falling back, as they
saw the bearskins move forward; and, to revive their spirits, the
Emperor sent on Labédoyère with the news that Grouchy was at hand.
Thus the tension of hope long deferred, which renders Waterloo unique
among battles, rose to its climax. Each side had striven furiously for
eight hours in the belief that the Prussians, or Grouchy, must come;
and now, at the last agony, came the assurance that final triumph was
at hand. The troops of D'Erlon and Reille once more clutched at
victory on the crest behind La Haye Sainte or beneath the walls of
Hougoumont, while the squares of the Guard struck obliquely across the
vale in the track of the great cavalry charges. On the rise south-west
of La Haye Sainte, Napoleon halted one battalion and handed over to
Ney the command of the remaining eight, that hailed him as they passed
with enthusiastic shouts. Two aides-de-camp just then galloped up from
the right to tell him of the Prussian advance, but he refused to
listen to them and bent his eyes on the Guards.[521]
Under cover of a whirlwind of shot the veterans pressed on. Having
suffered very little at Ligny, they numbered fully 4,000, and formed
at first one column, some seventy men in width. The front battalions
headed for a point a little to the west of the present Belgian
monument, while for some unexplained reason the rear portion diverged
to the left, and breasted the slope later than the others and nearer
Hougoumont. Flanked by light guns that opened a brisk fire, and most
gallantly supported by Donzelot's division close on their right, the
leading column struggled on, despite the grape and canister which
poured from the batteries of Bolton and Bean, making it wave "like
corn blown by the wind." Friant, the Commander of the Old Guard, was
severely wounded; Ney's horse fell under him, but the gallant fighter
rose undaunted, and waved on his men anew. And now they streamed over
the ridge and through the British guns in full assurance of triumph.
Few troops seemed to be before them; for Maitland's men (2nd and 3rd
battalions of the 1st Foot Guards) had lain down behind the bank of
the cross-road to get some shelter from the awful cannonade. "Stand
up, Guards, and make ready," exclaimed the Duke when the French were
but sixty paces away. The volley that flashed from their lengthy front
staggered the column, and seemed to force it bodily back. In vain did
the French officers wave their swords and attempt to deploy into line.
Mangled in front by Maitland's brigade, on its flank by our 33rd and
69th Regiments drawn up in square, and by the deadly salvos of
Chassé's Dutch-Belgians,[522] that stately array shrank and shrivelled
up. "Now's the time, my boys," shouted Lord Saltoun; and the thin red
line, closing with the mass, drove it pell-mell down the slope.
Near the foot the victors fell under the fire of the rear portion of
the Imperial Guards, who, undaunted by their comrades' repulse, rolled
majestically upwards. Colborne now wheeled the 52nd (Oxfordshire)
Regiment on the crest in a line nearly parallel to their advance, and
opened a deadly fire on their flank, which was hotly returned;
Maitland's men, re-forming on the crest, gave them a volley in front;
and some Hanoverians at the rear of Hougoumont also galled their rear.
Seizing the favourable moment when the column writhed in anguish,
Colborne cheered his men to the charge, and, aided by the second 95th
Rifles, utterly overthrew the last hope of France. Continuing his
advance, and now supported by the 71st Regiment, he swept our front
clear as far as the orchard of La Haye Sainte.[523]
The Emperor had at first watched the charge with feelings of buoyant
hope; for Friant, who came back wounded, reported that success was
certain. As the truth forced itself on him, he turned pale as a
corpse. "Why! they are in confusion," he exclaimed; "all is lost for
the present." A thrill of agony also shot through the French lines.
Donzelot's onset had at one time staggered Halkett's brigade; but the
hopes aroused by the charge of the Guard and the rumour of Grouchy's
approach gave place to dismay when the veterans fell back and
Ziethen's Prussians debouched from Papelotte. To the cry of "The Guard
gives way," there succeeded shouts of "treason." The Duke, noting the
confusion, waved on his whole line to the longed-for advance. Menaced
in front by the thin red line, and in rear by Colborne's glorious
charge, D'Erlon's divisions broke up in general rout. For a time,
three rocks stood boldly forth above this disastrous ebb. They were
the battalions of the Guard previously repulsed, and that had rallied
around the Emperor on the rise south of La Haye Sainte. In front of
them the three regiments of Adam's brigade stopped to re-form; but at
the Duke's command--"Go on, go on: they will not stand"--Colborne
charged them, and they gave way.
And now, as the sun shot its last gleams over the field, the swords of
the British horsemen were seen to flash and fall with relentless
vigour. The brigades of Vandeleur and Vivian, well husbanded during
the day, had been slipped upon the foe. The effect was electrical. The
retreat became a rout that surged wildly around the last squares of
the Guard. In one of them Napoleon took refuge for a space, still
hoping to effect a rally, while outside Ney rushed from band to band,
brandishing a broken sword, foaming with fury, and launching at the
runaways the taunt, "Cowards! have you forgotten how to die?"[524]
But panic now reigned supreme. Adam's brigade was at hand to support
our horsemen; and shortly after nine there knelled from Planchenoit
the last stroke of doom, the shouts of Prussians at last victorious
over the stubborn defence. "The Guard dies and does not
surrender"--such are the words attributed by some to Michel, by others
to Cambronne before he was stretched senseless on the ground.[525]
Whether spoken or not, some such thought prompted whole companies to
die for the honour of their flag. And their chief, why did he not
share their glorious fate? Gourgaud says that Soult forced him from
the field. If so (and Houssaye discredits the story) Soult never
served his master worse. The only dignified course was to act up to
his recent proclamation that the time had come for every Frenchman of
spirit to conquer or die. To belie those words by an ignominious
flight was to court the worst of sins in French political life,
ridicule.
And the flight was ignominious. Wellington's weary troops, after
several times mistaking friends for foes in the dusk, halted south of
Rossomme and handed over the pursuit to the Prussians, many of whom
had fought but little and now drank deep the draught of revenge. By
the light of the rising moon Gneisenau led on his horsemen in a
pursuit compared with which that of Jena was tame. At Genappe Napoleon
hoped to make a stand: but the place was packed with wagons and
thronged with men struggling to get at the narrow bridge. At the blare
of the Prussian trumpets, the panic became frightful; the Emperor left
his carriage and took to horse as the hurrahs drew near. Seven times
did the French form bivouacs, and seven times were they driven out and
away. At Quatre Bras he once more sought to gather a few troops; but
ere he could do so the Uhlans came on. With tears trickling down his
pallid cheeks, he resumed his flight over another field of carnage,
where ghastly forms glinted on all sides under the pale light of dawn.
After further futile efforts at Charleroi, he hurried on towards
Paris, followed at some distance by groups amounting to about 10,000
men, the sorry remnant still under arms of the host that fought at
Waterloo: 25,000 lay dead or wounded there: some thousands were taken
prisoners: the rest were scattering to their homes. Wellington lost
10,360 killed and wounded, of whom 6,344 were British: the Prussian
loss was about 6,000 men.
The causes of Napoleon's overthrow are not hard to find. The lack of
timely pursuit of Blücher and Wellington on the 17th enabled those
leaders to secure posts of vantage and to form an incisive plan which
he did not fully fathom even at the crisis of the battle. Full of
overweening contempt of Wellington, he began the fight heedlessly and
wastefully. When the Prussians came on, he underrated their strength
and believed to the very end that Grouchy would come up and take them
between two fires. But, in the absence of prompt, clear, and detailed
instructions, that Marshal was left a prey to his fatal notion that
Wavre was the one point to be aimed at and attacked. Despite the heavy
cannonade on the west he persisted in this strange course; while
Napoleon staked everything on a supreme effort against Wellington.
This last was an act of appalling hardihood; but he explained to
Cockburn on the voyage to St. Helena that, still confiding in
Grouchy's approach, he felt no uneasiness at the Prussian movements,
"which were, in fact, already checked, and that he considered the
battle to have been, on the whole, rather in his favour than
otherwise." The explanation has every appearance of sincerity. But
would any other great commander have staked his last reserve and laid
bare his rear solely in reliance on the ability of an almost untried
leader who had sent not a single word that justified the hopes now
placed in him?
We here touch the weak points in Napoleon's intellectual armour.
Gifted with almost superhuman insight and energy himself, he too often
credited his paladins with possessing the same divine afflatus.
Furthermore, he had a supreme contempt for his enemies. Victorious in
a hundred fights over second-rate opponents in his youth, he could not
now school his hardened faculties to the caution needed in a contest
with Wellington, Gneisenau, and Blücher. Only after he had ruined
himself and France did he realize his own errors and the worth of the
allied leaders. During the voyage to England he confessed to Bertrand:
"The Duke of Wellington is fully equal to myself in the management of
an army, _with the advantage of possessing more prudence_."[526]
NOTE ADDED TO THE FOURTH EDITION.--I have discussed several of the
vexed questions of the Waterloo Campaign in an Essay, "The
Prussian Co-operation at Waterloo," in my volume entitled
"Napoleonic Studies" (George Bell and Sons, 1904). In that Essay I
have pointed out the inaccuracy or exaggeration of the claims put
forward by some German writers to the effect that (1) Wellington
played Blücher false at Ligny, (2) that he did not expect Prussian
help until late in the day at Waterloo, (3) that the share of
credit for the victory rested in overwhelming measure with Blücher
and Gneisenau.
* * * * *