(1769-1852)
[Illustration: Duke of Wellington. [TN]]
Arthur Wellesley, the fourth son of the Earl of Mornington, was born
on May 1, 1769, at Dungan Castle, in Ireland. Although exhibiting no
decided inclination for the profession of arms, a soldier's career was
chosen for him at an early age; and after some preparatory years spent
at Eton, he was sent to Angers, in France, to learn in its ancient
military school those lessons in the art of war which he was destined
in after-life again and again so gloriously to surpass.
Unlike his contemporary Napoleon, the genius of Wellington did not
display itself beyond enabling him to attain a fair and creditable
proficiency at Angers. On his return to England he was gazetted to an
ensigncy early in 1787; and five years later, having passed through
the intermediate degrees, he obtained a troop in the Eighteenth Light
Dragoons.
His first appearance in public life was as a statesman, having been
returned to the Irish Parliament for the borough of Trim. His military
career of active service commenced by his being ordered, with his
regiment, to join the army in the Netherlands. Ere he reached it, the
tide of victory was running against the British arms; and his opening
campaign, while it gave him much experience, brought him but little
glory. He had now obtained the rank of colonel; and, as commander of
the rear-guard of the army, he steadily covered its retreat before the
advancing troops of the French republic, till they crossed the
frontiers of the Low Countries; when, after a kindly welcome and a
short stay with the Bremeners, they returned home.
The worn-out regiments were immediately recruited; and in April, 1796,
Colonel Wellesley sailed with his corps for the East Indies, where he
arrived in February the following year.
The fall of Seringapatam, and the death of Tippou-Saib in its defence,
are well-known events.
The principal command of the army in India was soon intrusted to
Colonel Wellesley, and early next year he was gazetted major-general.
The nature of this sketch will not admit of a detailed account of the
rest of the campaign, although it proved a "short but brilliant
one"--one which ended in the entire submission of the Mahratta
potentates who continued the struggle after Tippou's fall, and
completely established the reputation of the future hero of Waterloo.
A staff command awaited Major-General (and now Sir Arthur) Wellesley's
return to England; and soon afterward he married Catherine, the third
daughter of the Earl of Longford.
The command of a detachment of the army sent against the French in
Spain and Portugal, was confided to Sir Arthur, in June, 1808, when
without delay he proceeded to Corunna. The successes of the earlier
portion of the campaign, owing to the admirable conduct of Sir Arthur,
were so well appreciated at home that the king raised him to the
peerage. Through many difficulties Lord Wellington still continued to
lead the allied army on from victory to victory, to relate which, even
briefly, would alone fill a volume, till he found himself ready for
the last grand struggle at Ciudad Rodrigo, which was now occupied by
the French. It was early in January, 1811, yet notwithstanding the
coldness of the weather, and the dangers to which the army was
exposed, in case of the sudden rising of the river Agueda, which runs
nearly in front of the town, the preliminaries of the siege were
successfully conducted. One afternoon, the breaching batteries,
comprising twenty-seven large guns, opened their fire on the wall of
the town. In five days the breaches were practicable, and a summons to
surrender was sent to the governor. This he declined doing.
Wellington, having personally examined the breaches, felt convinced
that an assault had every prospect of success. Ordering the fire of
the guns to be directed against the cannon on the ramparts, he sat
down on an embankment, and wrote the order of assault which was to
seal the doom of the town, beginning with the emphatic sentence--"The
attack upon Ciudad Rodrigo must be made this evening at seven
o'clock."
Spain and Portugal conferred honors on the conqueror of Rodrigo; and
at home he was raised to the earldom of Wellington, with an increased
annuity of L2,000 a year.
The French army, under Marshal Soult, had at length been compelled to
quit Spain, and with such speed, that in four days they passed over
ground which it took the allied armies seven days to traverse. During
the retreat the two armies approached each other several times; and on
one occasion, when the French army was crossing the plains of Ger, its
pursuers followed so closely, that had it not been for the thick woods
through which they had to pass, Soult's retreat would have been
seriously endangered by the British cavalry.
When Bonaparte had quitted Fontainebleau, and had embarked on board
the Undaunted frigate for Elba, Lord Wellington felt he might safely
leave the army for a time; and, setting out for Paris, he reached it
May 4th. He met with an enthusiastic reception from all classes; while
the unqualified praises of each of the allied sovereigns showed how
much the successful issue of the struggle to restore liberty to Europe
was due to his talents and constancy of purpose. The restored Spanish
king, Ferdinand, sent him a letter of gratitude; and the Crown Prince
of Sweden gave him the Order of the Sword. England at the same time
conferred upon him the dukedom he so long enjoyed, and raised five of
his lieutenants to peerages.
Once more the "loud shrill clarion" of war aroused Europe to arms. Ten
short months after his abdication, Napoleon, escaped from Elba, was
again in Paris, resolved to incur all risks in order to gain the
greatest prize in Europe--the crown he had so lately relinquished. The
magic influence of his name spread through France, which became one
vast camp; and in an incredibly short space of time Napoleon found
himself ready to take the field with an army of one hundred and fifty
thousand men, of whom twenty thousand were highly disciplined cavalry.
The whole army was perfectly equipped, while three hundred pieces of
cannon formed an overpowering artillery. To oppose this well-appointed
force, the Duke of Wellington and Marshal Bluecher had collected an
army of one hundred and eighty thousand men. But although the allied
armies thus exceeded Napoleon's in numbers, his consisted of veteran
troops of one nation, while theirs were composed, for the most part,
of raw levies. That under the duke was "the weakest and the worst;" at
no time did it reach eighty thousand men, and on one-half of these
only could reliance be placed in the day of battle.
"I am going to have a brush with Wellington," said Napoleon, on the
evening of June 11, 1815; and next morning before daybreak he set out
to join his army on the frontiers, taking every precaution to conceal
from Wellington that he was coming. Napoleon's object was to separate
Bluecher from Wellington, then to deal with each singly, and thus to
crush them forever. Then France, rejoicing to see glory once more
resting on her eagles, would again hail him as her emperor.
While at dinner, Wellington received the first news of the advance of
Napoleon. Thinking that this was merely a feint to draw the allies
toward Ligny, while a serious attempt was made upon Brussels,
Wellington, who had already prepared himself for any emergency,
determined to wait till Napoleon's object was more fully displayed;
while, therefore, he gave orders that the troops should be in
readiness to march at a moment's notice, he, with his officers, joined
in the festivities of a ball given that evening by the Duchess of
Richmond.
Bluecher's second courier arrived before twelve o'clock, and the
despatches were delivered to the duke in the ball-room. While he was
reading them, he seemed completely absorbed by their contents; and
after he had finished, for some minutes he remained in the same
attitude of deep reflection, totally abstracted from every surrounding
object, while his countenance was expressive of fixed and intense
thought. He was heard to mutter to himself, "Marshal Bluecher
thinks"--"It is Marshal Bluecher's opinion;"--and after remaining thus
abstracted a few minutes, and having apparently formed his decision,
he gave his usual clear and concise orders to one of his staff
officers, who instantly left the room, and was again as gay and
animated as ever; he stayed to supper, and then went home.
[Illustration: A review of the British Army by Wellington.]
The trumpet's loud call awoke every sleeper in the city of Brussels a
little after midnight. Then it became known that the French had
advanced to Charleroi, which they had taken, and that the English
troops were ordered to advance and support the Prussians. Instantly
the place resounded with martial preparations; and as soldiers were
quartered in every house, the whole town became one bustling scene.
At daylight the troops were under arms, and at eight o'clock set out
for Quatre Bras, the expected scene of action in advance of Charleroi;
the fifth division taking the direct road through the forest of
Soignies.
Early in the afternoon, Marshal Ney attacked the Prince of Orange, and
by an overwhelming superiority of troops was driving him back through
a thick wood called "Le Bois de Bossen," when the leading columns of
the English reached Quatre Bras. Wellington's eye at once saw the
critical condition of his ally; and, though the troops had marched
twenty miles under a sultry sky, he knew their spirit was indomitable,
and gave the welcome order that the wood must be immediately regained.
On came Ney's infantry, doubling that of his opponents' in number,
supported by a crashing fire of artillery, quickly followed by the
cavalry, which, dashing through the rye crops, more than breast high,
charged the English regiments as soon as they reached the
battle-ground.
Yet, though unable properly to establish themselves, they formed
squares, and roughly repelled the enemy. Fierce and frequent were the
efforts of the French to break the squares. Showers of grape poured
upon them; and the moment an opening appeared, on rushed the lancers.
But the dead were quickly removed; and, though the squares were
lessened, they still presented an unbroken line of glittering
bayonets, which neither the spears of the lancers, nor the long swords
of the cuirassiers could break through. A division of the Guards from
Enghien, coming up at this crisis, gallantly charged the enemy, and in
half an hour cleared the wood of them completely. This exploit was
remarkable, achieved as it was by young soldiers after a toilsome
march of fifteen hours, during which time they had been without
anything to eat or drink. The fire of the French artillery, and the
charges of cavalry, obliged these gallant fellows, although now joined
by the Brunswickers, in some measure to keep the shelter of the wood.
They, however, sallied out at intervals, until Ney, finding himself
shaken, sent for his reserve. This force Napoleon had unexpectedly
removed to support his attack on the Prussians at Ligny; yet the
marshal maintained his position to the close of the day, when he fell
back on the road to Frasnes, while the British and their brave allies
lighted fires, and securing such provisions as they could, after a
scanty meal, piled arms, and lay down to rest on the battle-field.
Napoleon's simultaneous attack on the Prussians at Ligny was for a
long time doubtful. Both Bluecher and Napoleon were compelled to bring
their reserves into action; and when night closed, Bluecher still,
"like a wounded lion," fought with ferocity. But the darkness enabled
Napoleon to wheel a division of French infantry on the rear of the
Prussians, while a dense body of cuirassiers forced Ligny on the other
side, and not till then did Bluecher fall back.
Wellington was prepared to accept battle at daybreak next morning;
but, hearing of Bluecher's retreat, he also resolved to fall back, so
as to keep a lateral communication with the right wing of the
Prussians, and by this movement also prevent Bonaparte from placing
himself between the two armies, when at his choice he might turn his
forces against either, in which case the inferiority of numbers would
have entailed certain defeat.
Napoleon expected to find the English army still upon the ground it
had occupied on the 16th. Great was his surprise when, on reaching the
heights above Frasnes, he saw that the troops at the entrance of the
wood were only a strong rear-guard, and that the retreat toward
Brussels was already half effected. He bitterly rebuked Ney for his
supposed negligence, though Wellington's own officers did not imagine
they were to retreat till the moment it began; and the duke, by
dexterously wheeling his troops round the wood, part of which could
only be seen by the French, gave their marshal the idea that he was
bringing up large reinforcements instead of drawing off his troops.
The French squadrons immediately commenced the pursuit, but were so
rudely handled by the Life Guards under Lord Uxbridge, who protected
the rear, that, after several attacks, in the last of which the French
hussars were charged and nearly cut to pieces, the pursuit was so
severely checked as to give the infantry ample time to take up the
ground appointed them on the heights of Mont St. Jean, covering the
approach to Brussels by the great road from Charleroi.
"Here it was that the duke had determined to make his final stand,
staking the glory of many years on the issue of a single battle."
When day broke, and Napoleon beheld his opponents, whom he feared
would have escaped him during the night, fearlessly occupying their
position of the evening before, and evidently prepared to defend it, a
flush of joy overspread his face, while he exclaimed confidently,
"Bravo! I have them then--these English!"
By nine o'clock the weather moderated, the sun shone out, fires were
kindled, the men dried and cleaned their arms, and, ammunition being
served out, provisions were distributed, and the men breakfasted "with
some degree of comfort."
Since daybreak occasional shots had been fired; but not till eleven
o'clock did the battle begin. A body of light troops left the French
line, and, descending the hill at a sling trot, broke into scattered
parties, keeping up an irregular fire as they advanced toward the
Chateau of Hougoumont. These were closely followed by three divisions
nearly thirty thousand strong; and the dropping fire was soon changed
into one continued roll of musketry. As the English skirmishers fell
back, two brigades of British artillery opened on the advancing
columns of the French, each shot plunging and tearing through their
masses, while the shells from the howitzers fell so truly that the
shaken columns drew back. But now a powerful artillery opened from the
French heights, fresh troops poured forward, and for more than an hour
the line of each army remained spectators of the terrific attack on
the chateau, surrounded by a dense cloud of smoke, through which
glared forth the flashes of the artillery. The French guns had found
their range; every shot told upon the old walls of the mansion; and
crashing masonry, burning rafters falling, mingled with the yell of
battle, added a frightful interest to the scene. At length the Nassau
sharpshooters were driven back, and the French troops began to
penetrate the orchard; but, ere they could occupy it the squadrons of
English cavalry, under Lord Saltoun, bore down upon them, and drove
them back. Wheeling round, they then attempted the rear of the
chateau, but being received unflinchingly, were obliged to retire.
Despairing of success, the French artillery now discharged shells upon
Hougoumont; the tower and chapel were soon in a blaze, and in these
many wounded men met a dreadful fate. Still, though surrounded by
flames and bursting shells, with the heavy shot ploughing through wall
and window, the Guards held their post, nor could Hougoumont be taken.
"How beautifully these English fight! But they must give way,"
exclaimed Napoleon to Marshal Soult. But evening came, and yet they
held their ground. The men, maddened by seeing their comrades falling
around them, longed ardently for the moment to advance; but Wellington
felt that the crisis was not yet come. It required all his authority
to restrain the troops; but he knew their powers of endurance.
"Not yet, my brave fellows," said the duke; "be firm a little longer,
and you shall have at them by-and-by." This homely appeal kept each
man in his place in the ranks. But now the superior officers
remonstrated, and advised a retreat.
"Will the troops stand?" demanded Wellington.
"Till they perish!" was the reply.
"Then," added the duke, "I will stand with them to the last man."
Yet Wellington was not insensible of the critical nature of his
position, and longed for night or Bluecher. It was now seven, and the
Prussians had been expected at three. In less than an hour, the sound
of artillery was heard in the expected direction, and a staff officer
brought word that the head of the Prussian column was at Planchenoit,
nearly in the rear of the French reserve. Bonaparte, when told of
their advance, maintained that it was Grouchy's long-expected force
coming up; but when he saw them issue from the wood, and perceived the
Prussian colors, he turned pale, but uttered not a word.
Napoleon's Imperial Guards--his veteran troops--were now advancing,
covered by a tempest of shot and shells, toward the ridge behind which
lay the British infantry to gain a shelter from the fire. Wellington
eagerly watched the dense cloud as it approached; and when it arrived
within a hundred yards, advancing on horseback to the brow of the
ridge, he exclaimed, "Up, Guards, and at them!"
In a moment the men were on their feet--the French closed on them,
when a tremendous volley drove the whole mass back; but the old
Imperial Guard recovered, yet only to receive a second volley as
deadly as the first, followed by a bold charge with the bayonet, which
forced them down the slope, and up the opposite bank. In vain the
French attempted to support them by taking the Guards in flank. Lord
Hill brought forward the extreme right of the army, in the form of a
crescent, which overlapping the horsemen, they were crushed as in a
serpent's folds, while the infantry fell back, re-formed, and occupied
their former place on the ridge.
Wellington's quick eye already detected the confusion caused by the
Prussian attack under General Buelow on the French rear. Hastily
closing his telescope, he exclaimed, "The hour is come! Now every man
must advance!"
Forming into one long line, four men deep, the whole infantry
advanced, with a loud cheer, the sun at the instant streaming out as
if to shed his last glories on the conquerors of that dreadful day.
Headed by the duke, with his hat in hand, the line advanced with
spirit and rapidity, while the horse-artillery opened a fire of
canister-shot on the confused masses.
For a few minutes they stood their ground gallantly; and, even when
the allied cavalry charged full upon them, four battalions of the Old
Guard formed squares, and checked its advance. As the grapeshot tore
through the ranks of the veterans, they closed up again, and, to every
summons to surrender, gave the stern reply, "The Guard never
surrender--they die!"
Napoleon had already fled. Finding all hope of victory gone, he at
first threw himself into one of the squares of the Old Guard,
determined to die with them, but when the Prussians gained on their
rear, and he was in danger of being made prisoner, he exclaimed, "For
the present it is finished. Let us save ourselves!" and, turning his
horse's head, he fled with ten or twelve of his immediate attendants.
It was now half-past nine at night, and the moon rose with more than
ordinary splendor. The French, now a mass of fugitives, were closely
pursued by both armies, and a fearful slaughter ensued between
Waterloo and Genappe. At the latter place the British discontinued the
pursuit; but the Prussians, comparatively fresh, pursued without
intermission; their light-horse putting no limit to their revenge.
Many of the poor fugitives sought shelter in the villages on their
route; but at the sound of a Prussian trumpet they fled again, only to
be overtaken and cut down.
Wellington re-crossed the field of Waterloo to sup at Brussels. The
moonlight revealed all the horrors of the scene--his stern nature gave
way--and, bursting into tears, he exclaimed, "I have never fought such
a battle, and I hope never to fight such another."
He never did. Waterloo was his last battle, though he lived for nearly
forty years afterward, a leader in English politics, and died in 1852,
a national hero, a worthy twin figure to the immortal Nelson.