A.
Those who wish to form a distinct idea of the battle of Waterloo, need
only imagine a capital A laid on the ground. The left leg of the A is
the Nivelles road, the right one the Genappe road, while the string of
the A is the broken way running from Ohain to Braine l'Alleud. The top
of the A is Mont St. Jean, where Wellington is; the left lower point is
Hougomont, where Reille is with Jérôme Bonaparte; the right lower point
is La Belle Alliance, where Napoleon is. A little below the point where
the string of the A meets and cuts the right leg, is La Haye Sainte;
and in the centre of this string is the exact spot where the battle was
concluded. It is here that the lion is placed, the involuntary symbol
of the heroism of the old Guard.
The triangle comprised at the top of the A between the two legs and the
string, is the plateau of Mont St. Jean; the dispute for this plateau
was the whole battle. The wings of the two armies extend to the right
and left of the Genappe and Nivelles roads, d'Erlon facing Picton,
Reille facing Hill. Behind the point of the A, behind the plateau of
St. Jean, is the forest of Soignies. As for the plan itself, imagine a
vast undulating ground; each ascent commands the next ascent, and all
the undulations ascend to Mont St. Jean, ending there in the forest.
Two hostile armies on a battle-field are two wrestlers. It is a
body-grip. One tries to throw the other; they cling to everything; a
thicket is a basis; an angle in the wall is a breastwork; for want of
a village to support it, a regiment gives way; a fall in the plain, a
transverse hedge in a good position, a wood, a ravine, may arrest the
heel of that column which is called an army, and prevent it slipping.
The one who leaves the field is beaten; and hence the necessity for
the responsible chief to examine the smallest clump of trees, and
investigate the slightest rise in the ground. The two generals had
attentively studied the plain of Mont St. Jean, which is called at the
present day the field of Waterloo. In the previous year, Wellington,
with prescient sagacity, had examined it as suitable for a great
battle. On this ground and for this duel of June 18, Wellington had the
good side and Napoleon the bad; for the English army was above, the
French army below.
It is almost superfluous to sketch here the appearance of Napoleon,
mounted and with his telescope in his hand, as he appeared on the
heights of Rossomme at the dawn of June 18. Before we show him, all
the world has seen him. The calm profile under the little hat of the
Brienne school, the green uniform, the white facings concealing the
decorations, the great coat concealing the epaulettes, the red ribbon
under the waistcoat, the leather breeches, the white horse with its
housings of purple velvet, having in the corners crowned N's and
eagles, the riding-boots drawn over silk stockings, the silver spurs,
the sword of Marengo,--the whole appearance of the last of the Cæsars
rises before every mind, applauded by some, and regarded sternly by
others. This figure has for a long time stood out all light; this was
owing to a certain legendary obscuration which most heroes evolve, and
which always conceals the truth for a longer or shorter period, but
at the present day we have history and light. That brilliancy called
history is pitiless; it has this strange and divine thing about it,
that, all light as it is, and because it is light, it often throws
shadows over spots before luminous, it makes of the same man two
different phantoms, and one attacks the other, and the darkness of the
despot struggles with the lustre of the captain. Hence comes a truer
proportion in the definitive appreciation of nations; Babylon violated,
diminishes Alexander; Rome enchained, diminishes Cæsar; Jerusalem
killed, diminishes Titus. Tyranny follows the tyrant, and it is a
misfortune for a man to leave behind him a night which has his form.