Waterloo
(1815)
“_The history of a battle is not unlike the history of a ball. Some
individuals may recollect all the little events of which the great
result is the battle lost or won; but no individual can recollect
the order in which, or the exact moment at which they occurred,
which makes all the difference as to their value or importance._”
WELLINGTON.
The British General had already sent word to Blücher that he was
prepared to fight Napoleon if the Prussian Commander could see his
way to send him one army-corps, the assistance of which he deemed
imperative. He did not receive a reply until the early hours of the
18th, and it was in the affirmative. He promised Bülow’s corps, which
would march at daybreak against Napoleon’s right, followed by that of
Pirch. Those of Thielmann and Ziethen would also be sent provided the
presence of Grouchy did not prevent. As events turned out, Thielmann’s
corps was sufficient for this purpose of defending the Dyle against
the French Marshal. The first report from Grouchy received by Napoleon
on the 18th was sent from Gembloux, and contained news up to 10
o’clock on the previous night, namely, that part of the Prussians had
retired towards Wavre, that Blücher with their centre had fallen back
on Perwez, and a column with artillery had moved in the direction of
Namur.[92]
[Illustration]
From another source Napoleon gathered that three bodies of the
Prussians were concentrating at Wavre, vital information which, for
some inexplicable reason, he did not dispatch to Grouchy until 10 a.m.
We have it on the authority of Foy, who had fought in Spain, that at
daybreak Napoleon was told that the junction of Wellington and Blücher
was possible. This he refused to believe, stating that such an event
could not take place before the 20th. Grouchy was ordered to keep up
his communications with Napoleon, pushing before him “those bodies of
Prussians which have taken this direction and which may have stopped at
Wavre.” In addition, he was to “follow those columns which have gone
to your right.” Dr Holland Rose pronounces these instructions as 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.”[93]
As Houssaye, one of the most painstaking of historians, says, “It
is necessary to walk over the ground, to perceive its constantly
undulating formation, similar to the billows of a swelling sea.” I
have followed his advice for the purposes of the present volume. The
configuration of the land near the ridge, which was at first the right
centre of the Allies, has been altered somewhat by the excavation
of earth for the celebrated but unsightly Lion Mound, otherwise the
field is much the same as it was in 1815. Major Cotton, who fought at
Waterloo, tells us that on the day of the battle there were “splendid
crops of rye, wheat, barley, oats, beans, peas, potatoes, tares, and
clover; some of these were of great height. There were a few patches
of ploughed ground.” Exactly the same is true now. The soil which
covers the mouldering bones of many a hero yields a mighty harvest.
Practically every inch of it is either pasture or under cultivation.
By far the most interesting point is the château and farm-house of
Hougoumont. The buildings were then over two centuries old, and were
erected with a view to defence, the garden being strongly walled
on the south and east sides. In 1815 it was replete with orchard,
outbuildings, banked-up hedges, and a chapel. Additional loop-holes
were made by Wellington’s orders, a scaffold was erected so that the
troops could discharge their muskets over the wall, and the flooring
over the south gateway hastily taken up “to enable our men to fire
down upon the enemy should they force the gate which had been blocked
up.” This strong strategic position before the right flank of the
allied line was admirably defended by the light companies of the second
battalions of Coldstream and Foot Guards.
The battle began with a protracted but successful attack by Napoleon’s
brother, Jerome, on the Nassauer and Hanoverian troops, which held the
wood in front of the château. Proud of his triumph, and contrary to the
Emperor’s orders, three attempts to assault the grim building were made
and failed. At length Napoleon made up his mind to bombard Hougoumont,
which he did to some effect, the chapel and barn blazing fiercely, but
its brave defenders never surrendered. Four days after the battle,
Major W. E. Frye visited the spot. “At Hougoumont,” he says, “where
there is an orchard, every tree is pierced with bullets. The barns are
all burned down, and in the courtyard it is said they have been obliged
to burn upwards of a thousand carcases, an awful holocaust to the
War-Demon.”
On one of the outside walls of the little chapel, within which many
gallant soldiers breathed their last, is a bronze tablet erected in
1907, “to the memory of the brave dead by His Britannic Majesty’s
Brigade of Guards and by Comte Charles van der Burch.”[94] The sacred
building has been thoroughly repaired, and the interior white-washed.
The latter is to be regretted, but was incumbent owing to the vandalism
of visitors whose one aim in life apparently is to carve or scrawl
their names upon monuments and buildings.
Within easy distance is the farm of La Haye Sainte, still used for the
purpose for which it was originally built. If the thick wall which
abuts the road to the Belgian capital is not so strong as it was--and
there are signs of recent repair--the most cursory examination is
sufficient to prove that it offered a strong resistance. La Haye Sainte
was the key of the allied position. It was Napoleon’s ambition to
secure it, together with the farm of Mont St Jean, so that the enemy’s
communications with Brussels and Blücher might be cut off. Wellington
had unwisely left the defence of La Haye Sainte to a mere handful
of men, 376 in all, of the King’s German Legion. The buildings were
attacked on all sides during the eventful day, and it was not until
6.30 p.m., or thereabouts, when ammunition was exhausted, that the
place fell. Professor Oman points out that the Emperor should have sent
the Guard “to the front _en masse_” the moment that happened. This he
did not do, and a golden opportunity was irretrievably lost.
[Illustration:
1. Farm of Mont St. Jean
2. Château of Hougoumont
3. La Belle Alliance Inn
4. Farm of La Haye Sainte
Photographs by C. Hamilton, Hornsey]
A little farther up the road, and on the opposite side, is a long,
white-washed building known as the farm of Mont St Jean, the hamlet
of that name being the centre of the position. This was the chief
hospital of the Allies, and once a monastery of the Knights Templar.
Near here the Iron Duke drew up the second line of his reserve, with
three reserve batteries. Napoleon’s headquarters were on the Belle
Alliance height, where he spent the greater part of the day, and where
he kept the Imperial Guard, nick-named “The Immortals,” in reserve
until after 7 p.m. It was not until evening had given place to night
that the French troops were routed.
When you enter La Belle Alliance Inn you are shown “the historical
chamber of Napoleon.” But let me warn visitors who admire the grotesque
painting of “Wellington Meeting Blücher,” which is nailed to the
outside wall, against believing that this is the scene of the memorable
incident. Mutual congratulations took place before La Belle Alliance
was reached, the Duke turning off the high road leading to the village
of Waterloo to meet the rugged old soldier when he descried him
surrounded by his staff.
Within a few hundred yards of the inn is a memorial “to the last
combatants of the Grand Army.” It is by far the most artistic and
apposite of the several monuments on the field. With shattered wings
the French eagle guards the tattered standard of “The Immortals” on the
ground where the last square of Napoleon’s famous Guard was cut down.
“It was a fatality,” said the fallen Emperor of the West, “for in spite
of all, I should have won that battle.”
Having glanced at the chief objects of interest on the field of
Waterloo, we must now turn our attention to the leading features of the
fight. It is not proposed to enter into minute details, or to discuss
the many vexed points which have been raised from time to time. Sir
Harry Smith, who took part in the battle, issued a word of warning
years ago, which we shall endeavour to bear in mind. “Every moment was
a crisis,” he said, “and the controversialists had better have left the
discussion on the battle-field.”
The morning of Sunday, the 18th June 1815, was dismal, foggy, and wet.
No “Sun of Austerlitz” pierced the low clouds that scudded across the
sky. The state of the weather being then, as now, a universal topic
of conversation and record, we have abundant documentary evidence on
the subject. After this uninteresting, but not unimportant, fact, our
witnesses, to a large extent, break down. It would be much easier to
detail what we do not know about the battle of Waterloo than to put
down in black and white what may be regarded as indisputable truth.
For instance, there is an amazing disparity between the times at which
eye-witnesses assert the first cannon was fired. The Duke says eleven
o’clock, Napoleon two hours later. Alava mentions half-past eleven,
Ney one o’clock. Lord Hill, who used a stop-watch, avers with some
semblance of authority, 11.50 a.m. The Emperor certainly delayed giving
battle. Soult issued an order between 4 and 5 a.m. for the army to be
“ready to attack at 9 a.m.” At 11 o’clock Napoleon stated that the
soldiers were to be “in battle array, about an hour after noon.” Scores
of volumes and thousands of pages have been devoted to the subject
of the conflict which concluded Napoleon’s military career. It seems
fairly reasonable to suppose that after the lapse of one hundred years
any further research, although it may throw valuable sidelights on the
battle, will not solve the problem. We have the Duke’s assurance that
“it is impossible to say when each important occurrence took place,
nor in what order.” To a would-be narrator he wrote, “I recommend
you to leave the battle of Waterloo as it is,” to another, “the Duke
entertains no hopes of ever seeing an account of all its details which
shall be true,” and again, “I am really disgusted with and ashamed of
all that I have seen of the battle of Waterloo.” That being so, it
is not purposed to view it from a critical standpoint, but merely to
detail the leading events of the day as these are generally accepted.
The ridge on which Napoleon posted his forces in three lines, with a
reserve of 11,000 troops behind the centre, was opposite Mont St Jean,
with the farm of La Belle Alliance, on the high road from Charleroi to
Brussels, in the centre. The number of troops at his immediate disposal
was 74,000, and they occupied a front of about two miles. The spectacle
as the French troops deployed “was magnificent,” Napoleon afterwards
averred, not without a touch of imagination, “and the enemy, who was so
placed as to behold it down to the last man, must have been struck by
it: the army must have seemed to him double in number what it really
was.”
Just before the conflict began there was scarcely a mile between the
French and Wellington’s 67,000 troops, who were posted across the high
roads leading respectively from Charleroi and Nivelles to Brussels,
just in front of Mont St Jean, where they cross. His right extended to
Merbe Braine, and his left, which he considered was protected by the
advancing Prussians, was to the westward of the high road. The army was
drawn up in two lines, the second of which was composed entirely of
cavalry under Lord Uxbridge. To the left Wellington held the villages
of La Haye, Papelotte, and Smohain; Hougoumont was before his right,
La Haye Sainte in front of the centre, and all were occupied by his
troops. His reserves, numbering about 17,000, were unseen by the enemy
owing to the formation of the ground, and were posted behind his
centre and right. At the rear was the forest of Soignes, through which
he could retreat if necessary. At Hal, nine miles away, the corps of
Prince Frederick of Orange and two brigades of Colville’s division,
some 14,000 men in all, were stationed. They took no part in the
battle. Their presence at so great a distance was due to the somewhat
unnecessary anxiety of Wellington, as after events proved, regarding
the right flank. The Allies’ guns numbered 156, those of the French 246.
Wellington displayed extraordinary activity, and commanded in person.
Napoleon relied on his subordinates far more than was usual with him,
and seemed to take little direct interest in the fighting. He sat in
a chair; his antagonist rode about throughout the day. “It is hardly
possible,” says Lord William Lennox, one of his aides-de-camp, “to
describe the calm manner in which the hero gave his orders and watched
the movements and attacks of the enemy. In the midst of danger, bullets
whistling close about him, round shot ploughed the ground he occupied,
and men and horses falling on every side, he sat upon his favourite
charger, Copenhagen, as collectedly as if he had been reviewing the
Household Troops in Hyde Park.”
Although it would be foolish to endeavour to accurately divide the
battle in different parts as one would do a sum, for the simple reason
that fighting was going on all the time and the entire armies of the
combatants were not used in any given moment, there were five more or
less distinct attacks made by the French which may be useful as keys,
viz.: (1) the diversion against Hougoumont, which opened the battle;
(2) the attack against Wellington’s left-centre; (3) the cavalry attack
on the right-centre; (4) a second attempt with infantry and cavalry
having a similar object, and an infantry attack against the enemy’s
left; (5) the charge of the Imperial Guard.
[Illustration: The Desperate Stand of the Guards at Hougoumont
R. Caton Woodville]
The main attack was against the British left and centre, but by way
of diversion an attempt was first made on the wood of Hougoumont,
which was carried after so determined a resistance that Alison, the
historian, afterwards counted no fewer than twenty-two shots in a
tree less than six inches in diameter; fairly conclusive evidence
of the death-dealing shower faced by the Nassauers and Hanoverians
defending the copse and of the vigour of the enemy. The château was
then attacked, contrary to orders, by Jerome Bonaparte, and brilliantly
repulsed by the light companies of the second battalions of Coldstream
and Foot Guards.[95] Several attempts were afterwards made to secure
the place, and dead bodies lay piled in heaps, but those within held
it from the beginning to the end of the battle, although Wellington
found it necessary to reinforce the men who were upholding Britain’s
honour so determinedly. The orchard was captured and regained,
howitzers battered the stout walls, the building was set on fire,
the door of the courtyard was burst open and shut in the face of the
French. These deeds were performed by the fellows of whom Napoleon had
spoken earlier in the day as “breakfast for us!”
It was not until about half-past one o’clock, when a black, moving mass
was seen on the wooded heights of St Lambert that the Emperor really
bestirred himself. Napoleon looked through his glass in the direction
of the object on which nearly all eyes were strained. Some of his
officers thought it a body of troops, some suggested Prussians, others
Grouchy. “I think,” remarked Soult, “it is five or six thousand men,
probably part of Grouchy’s army.” In reality it was the advanced guard
of Bülow’s troops, and the Emperor shortly afterwards heard from the
lips of a prisoner that at least 30,000 men were approaching to assist
Wellington. However, some light horsemen were sent towards Frischermont
to observe the Prussians,[96] and a postscript was added to a dispatch
already penned to Grouchy, begging him to “lose not an instant in
drawing near and joining us, in order to crush Bülow, whom you will
catch in the very act.”
Without delay Napoleon launched D’Erlon’s corps in four columns
totalling nearly 20,000 men against the enemy’s left-centre, Ney in
command. They were supported by far too few cavalry. The Emperor’s idea
was to take La Haye Sainte, break through the Allied line, and gain
Mont St Jean. This operation, if successful, would compel Wellington
to abandon his communications with the Belgian capital and change his
formation. In addition, it would place the French between his army and
the Prussians. Bylandt’s Dutch-Belgians, who were nearest to the enemy
and consequently more exposed to the covering fire of seventy-eight
guns and the shots of the skirmishers, took to their heels as D’Erlon’s
divisions, frantically yelling “_Vive l’Empereur!_” approached the
front line.[97] The brigades of Pack and Kempt were at once brought
forward by Picton. They stood firm and poured death into the oncoming
columns, receiving them, as they appeared on the crest of the ridge,
with fixed bayonets.
The Earl of Uxbridge, who was in command of the cavalry, realizing
that the position was still one of considerable danger, then ordered
Ponsonby’s Union Brigade--the 1st Royal Dragoons, Scots Greys, and
Inniskillings--to charge. It burst upon the French with tremendous
force and decided the issue.
Several thousands of the enemy were killed or wounded, 8000 taken
prisoners, a number of guns silenced, and two eagles captured.
The story of how the colours of the French 45th Regiment were secured
by Serjeant Ewart, a magnificent specimen of a man, over six feet
in height, who served in the Greys, is best told in his own modest
language. “It was in the charge I took the eagle from the enemy,” he
says; “he and I had a hard contest for it; he made a thrust at my
groin, I parried it off and cut him down through the head. After this a
lancer came at me; I threw the lance off by my right side, and cut him
through the chin and upwards through the teeth. Next, a foot-soldier
fired at me, and then charged me with his bayonet, which I also had
the good luck to parry, and then I cut him down through the head; thus
ended the contest. As I was about to follow my regiment, the General
said, ‘My brave fellow, take that to the rear; you have done enough
till you get quit of it.’ I took the eagle to the ridge, and afterwards
to Brussels.”
We have also the record of Captain Clark Kennedy, of the Royal
Dragoons, regarding the capture of the eagle of the 105th Regiment.
“I was,” he relates, “in command of the centre squadron of the Royal
Dragoons in this charge; while following up the attack, I perceived
a little to my left, in the midst of a body of infantry, an eagle
and colour, which the bearer was making off with towards the rear. I
immediately gave the order to my squadron, ‘Right shoulders forward!’
at the same time leading direct upon the eagle and calling out to the
men with me to secure the colour; the instant I got within reach of the
officer who carried the eagle, I ran my sword into his right side, and
he staggered and fell, but did not reach the ground on account of the
pressure of his companions: as the officer was in the act of falling,
I called out a second time to some men close behind me, ‘Secure the
colour, it belongs to me.’ The standard coverer, Corporal Styles, and
several other men rushed up, and the eagle fell across my horse’s head
against that of Corporal Styles’s. As it was falling, I caught the
fringe of the flag with my left hand, but could not at first pull up
the eagle: at the second attempt, however, I succeeded. Being in the
midst of French troops, I attempted to separate the eagle from the
staff, to put it into the breast of my coatee, but it was too firmly
fixed. Corporal Styles said, ‘Sir, don’t break it’; to which I replied,
‘Very well; carry it off to the rear as fast as you can.’ He did so.”
Unfortunately the victors were too eager, and instead of returning they
continued until they were in the French lines, thus enabling Napoleon
to “turn the tables.” His reserve squadrons robbed the British ranks
of 1000 brave men, including Ponsonby. More would have fallen had not
Vandeleur’s Light Cavalry Brigade checked the enemy.
Picton was dead, shot at the head of his men. “When you hear of my
death,” the latter had previously remarked to a comrade, “you will
hear of a bloody day.” He had “fallen gloriously at the head of his
division, maintaining a position which, if it had not been kept, would
have altered the fate of the day.”[98]
The following account of the magnificent charge of Ponsonby’s Union
Brigade, from the pen of James Armour, Rough-rider to the Scots Greys,
who took part in it, gives some idea of the work performed:
“Orders were now given that we were to prepare to charge. We gave our
countrymen in front of us three hearty huzzas, and waving our swords
aloft in the air, several swords were struck with balls while so doing;
and I must not forget the piper--
_The piper loud and louder blew,
The balls of all denominations quick and quicker flew._
The Highlanders were then ordered to wheel back--I think by sections,
but I am not certain: infantry words of command differ from the
cavalry. When they had, and were wheeling back imperfectly, we rushed
through them; at the same time they huzzaed us, calling out, ‘_Now, my
boys--Scotland for ever!_’ I must own it had a thrilling effect upon
me. I am certain numbers of them were knocked over by the horses: in
our anxiety we could not help it. Some said ‘I didna think ye wad hae
sair’d me sae’--catching hold of our legs and stirrups, as we passed,
to support themselves. When we got clear through the Highlanders (92nd)
we were now on the charge, and a short one it was. A cross road being
in our way, we leaped the first hedge gallantly; crossed the road, and
had to leap over another hedge. At this time the smoke from the firing
on both sides made it so that we could not see distinctly. We had not
charged far--not many yards, till we came to a column. We were pretty
well together as yet, although a great number fell about that cross
road. We were in the column in a very short time (making pretty clean
work). We still pushed forward, at least as many as could--a number had
dropped off by this time--and soon came to another column. They cried
out, ‘Prisoners!’ and threw down their arms, and stripped themselves of
their belts (I think it is part of the French discipline to do so), and
ran to our rear. Ay, they ran like hares. We still pushed on, and came
upon another column; and some of them went down on their knees, calling
out ‘Quarter!’ in a very supplicatory way....
“We now got amongst the guns, the terrible guns, which had annoyed us
so much. _Such slaughtering!_--men cut down and run through, horses
houghed, harness cut, and all rendered useless. Some, who were judges
of such work, reckoned we had made a very good job of it. Amongst the
guns--I think six or seven in number, all brass--that I was engaged
with, mostly all the men were cut down, and the horses, most of them,
if not all, were houghed. While we were at work amongst these guns,
never thinking but, when we were done with it, we would have nothing
to do but to return from where we came; but I must own I was very
much surprised, when we began to retrace our steps, when what should
we behold coming away across betwixt us and our own army but a great
number of these cuirassiers and lancers, the first I ever beheld in my
life, who were forming up in order to cut off our retreat; but, nothing
daunted, we faced them manfully. We had none to command us now, but
every man did what he could. ‘Conquer or die!’ was the word. When the
regiment returned from the charge mentioned, the troops that I belonged
to did not muster above one or two sound men (unwounded) belonging to
the front rank. Indeed the whole troop did not muster above a dozen;
there were upwards of twenty of the front rank killed, and the others
wounded.”
Meanwhile the farm of La Haye Sainte, held by a detachment of the
German Legion under Major Baring, had been the object of assault
by a French division detached for that purpose, and the defenders
were driven from the orchard. Reinforcements were sent forward by
Wellington, followed by additional cavalry by Napoleon. The cuirassiers
were met by Lord Edward Somerset’s Brigade, led by the Earl of
Uxbridge, and driven back after a furious struggle for supremacy.
Not until the last pinch of powder was spent and several determined
attempts had been made to secure the place, did the brave fellows
vacate their position to D’Erlon’s infantry, between six and seven
o’clock.
Towards the close of the afternoon Milhaud’s cuirassiers, supported
by light cavalry and dragoons, attacked the British right-centre.
Wellington at once formed his troops in squares. When the crash came
they stood firm and unbroken.
The Commander-in-Chief lost not a moment. The heavy brigade of Lord
Edward Somerset was flung against the Frenchmen and drove them from the
ridge.[99] The artillery flamed destruction. Charge followed charge,
thirteen in all, but the British squares remained steady, although
continually reduced. Nearly all Wellington’s cavalry were pressed into
service, and with the exception of a solitary Dutch-Belgian division,
all his infantry reserve was employed. An officer who served in
Halkett’s brigade has left a vivid account of this part of the battle.
“Hougoumont and its wood,” he writes, “sent up a broad flame through
the dark masses of smoke that overhung the field; beneath this cloud
the French were indistinctly visible. Here a waving mass of long
red feathers could be seen; there, gleams as from a sheet of steel
showed that the cuirassiers were moving; 400 cannon were belching
forth fire and death on every side; the roaring and shouting were
indistinguishably commixed--together they gave me an idea of a
labouring volcano. Bodies of infantry and cavalry were pouring down
on us, and it was time to leave contemplation, so I moved towards
our columns, which were standing up in square.... As I entered the
rear face of our square I had to step over a body, and looking down,
recognised Harry Beere, an officer of our Grenadiers, who about an hour
before shook hands with me, laughing, as I left the columns.... The
tear was not dry on my cheek when poor Harry was no longer thought of.
In a few minutes after, the enemy’s cavalry galloped up and crowned
the crest of our position. Our guns were abandoned,[100] and they
formed between the two brigades, about a hundred paces in our front.
Their first charge was magnificent. As soon as they quickened their
trot into a gallop, the cuirassiers bent their heads so that the
peaks of their helmets looked like vizors, and they seemed cased in
armour from the plume to the saddle. Not a shot was fired till they
were within thirty yards, when the word was given, and our men fired
away at them. The effect was magical. Through the smoke we could see
helmets falling, cavaliers starting from their seats with convulsive
springs as they received our balls, horses plunging and rearing in the
agonies of fright and pain, and crowds of the soldiery dismounted,
part of the squadron in retreat, but the more daring remainder backing
their horses to force them on our bayonets. Our fire soon disposed of
these gentlemen. The main body re-formed in our front, and rapidly and
gallantly repeated their attacks. In fact, from this time (about four
o’clock) till near six, we had a constant repetition of these brave but
unavailing charges. There was no difficulty in repulsing them, but our
ammunition decreased alarmingly. At length an artillery wagon galloped
up, emptied two or three casks of cartridges into the square, and we
were all comfortable....
“Though we constantly thrashed our steel-clad opponents, we found
more troublesome customers in the round shot and grape, which all
this time played on us with terrible effect, and fully avenged the
cuirassiers. Often as the volleys created openings in our square would
the cavalry dash on, but they were uniformly unsuccessful. A regiment
on our right seemed sadly disconcerted, and at one moment was in
considerable confusion. Halkett rode out to them, and seizing their
colour, waved it over his head, and restored them to something like
order, though not before his horse was shot under him. At the height of
their unsteadiness we got the order to ‘right face’ to move to their
assistance; some of the men mistook it for ‘right about face,’ and
faced accordingly, when old Major M‘Laine, 73rd, called out, ‘No, my
boys, its “right face”; you’ll never hear the right about as long as a
French bayonet is in front of you!’”
At Planchenoit, in the rear of the French centre, Lobau and his 10,000
men were doing their upmost to prevent Bülow with three times that
number of troops from succouring Wellington. The French held the
village for two hours, and then saw it fall into the hands of the
enemy, but only for a time. Some of the Young Guard and three batteries
of artillery had been sent by the Emperor to support Lobau, and when
they arrived the scales again turned in favour of the French. While
this body was held in check, Napoleon’s infantry had suffered near
Hougoumont, but La Haye Sainte had fallen, as already noticed. Had
Napoleon sent reinforcements to Ney he might have won the battle, but
he hesitated to use his remaining reserves. Before anything further was
done, Wellington had made fresh dispositions, and Ziethen’s men, who
had marched by way of Ohain, were on the field.
[Illustration: Charge of the Scots Greys at Waterloo
R. Caton Woodville]
Six battalions of the Middle Guard and two battalions of the Old
Guard were at last sent forward.[101] As they crossed the open ground
between Hougoumont and the high road the artillery played sad havoc
with some of them, but behind the crest of the ridge was Maitland’s
brigade of the Foot Guards, led by Wellington, himself. “Up, Guards,
and make ready!” he shouted, and ere the first column was upon them the
British infantry had dealt a deadly fire into its ranks which made it
pause. The second column was caught in flank by Adam’s Brigade. Then
two brigades of British cavalry charged, and although the celebrated
Imperial Guards endeavoured to hold their own they were forced back.
Blücher, who had arrived at a most opportune moment, carried the
position occupied by the French right at Papelotte and La Haye with
Ziethen’s corps. The whole Allied line then advanced, the heights
were carried, and Napoleon’s last army, on the victory of which he
had staked his all, was scattered. The battle of Waterloo was won.
“My plan,” said the Commander-in-Chief, “was to keep my ground until
the Prussians appeared, and then to attack the French position; and I
executed my plan.”
Throughout the night the Prussians followed up the defeated legions,
which got across the Sambre on the 19th. Some 30,000 of Napoleon’s
men were killed or wounded, and 13,000 of the Allied army, more than
half of whom were British. On the 22nd June 1815, the fallen Emperor
abdicated in favour of his son; on the 7th July the Allies entered
Paris in triumph, and eight days later Napoleon surrendered to Captain
Maitland, of H.M.S. _Bellerophon_.
_The Desolator desolate!
The Victor overthrown!
The Arbiter of others fate
A Suppliant for his own!_
BYRON.