soon perceived, upon examination, that the wound was mortal. This,
however, was concealed from all except Captain Hardy, the Chaplain,
and the medical attendants. He himself being certain, from the
sensation in his back, and the gush of blood he felt momently
within his breast, that no human care could avail him, insisted
that the surgeon should leave him, and attend to those to whom he
might be useful; “for,” said he, “you can do nothing for me.” All
that could be done was to fan him with paper, and frequently to
give him lemonade to alleviate his intense thirst. He was in great
pain, and expressed much anxiety for the event of the action, which
now began to declare itself. As often as a ship struck, the crew of
the Victory hurrahed, and at every hurrah, visible expression of
joy gleamed in the eyes, and marked the countenance of the dying
hero. But he became impatient to see Hardy; and as that officer,
though often sent for, could not leave the deck, Nelson feared
that some fatal cause prevented him, and repeatedly cried, “Will
no one bring Hardy to me? he must be killed! he is surely dead!”
An hour and ten minutes elapsed from the time when Nelson received
his wound, before Hardy could come to him. They shook hands in
silence, Hardy in vain struggling to suppress the feelings of that
most painful and yet sublime moment. “Well, Hardy,” said Nelson,
“how goes the day with us?” “Very well,” replied Hardy; “ten ships
have struck, but five of the van have tacked, and show an intention
to bear down upon the Victory. I have called two or three of our
fresh ships round, and have no doubt of giving them a drubbing.”
“I hope,” said Nelson, “none of our ships have struck.” Hardy
answered, “there was no fear of that.” Then, and not till then,
Nelson spoke of himself. “I am a dead man, Hardy,” said he; “I
am going fast; it will be all over with me soon. Come nearer to
me. Let my dear Lady Hamilton have my hair, and all other things
belonging to me.” Hardy observed, that he hoped Mr. Beatty could
yet hold out some prospect of life. “Oh! no,” he replied; “it is
impossible. My back is shot through. Beatty will tell you so.”
Hardy then once more shook hands with him, and with a heart almost
bursting, hastened upon deck.

By this time all feeling below the breast was gone, and Nelson,
having made the surgeon ascertain this, said to him: “You know I
am gone. I know it. I feel something rising in my breast,” putting
his hand on his left side, “which tells me so.” And upon Beatty’s
inquiring whether his pain was very great, he replied, “so great
that he wished he was dead. Yet,” said he, in a lower voice, “one
would like to live a little longer too!” And after a few minutes,
in the same undertone, he added: “What would become of poor Lady
Hamilton if she knew my situation!” Next to his country she
occupied his thoughts. Captain Hardy, some fifty minutes after he
had left the cockpit, returned, and again taking the hand of his
dying friend and commander, congratulated him on having gained a
complete victory. How many of the enemy were taken he did not know,
as it was impossible to perceive them distinctly, but 14 or 15
at least. “That’s well,” cried Nelson, but “I bargained for 20.”
And then, in a stronger voice, he said: “Anchor, Hardy, anchor.”
Hardy, upon this, hinted that Admiral Collingwood would take upon
himself the direction of affairs. “Not while I live, Hardy,” said
the dying Nelson, ineffectually endeavouring to raise himself
from the bed: “do you anchor.” His previous orders for preparing
to anchor had shown how clearly he foresaw the necessity of this.
Presently calling Hardy back, he said to him in a low voice, “Don’t
throw me overboard;” and he desired that he might be buried by his
parents, unless it should please the King to order otherwise. Then
reverting to private feelings: “Take care of my dear Lady Hamilton,
Hardy; take care of poor Lady Hamilton. Kiss me, Hardy,” said he.
Hardy knelt down and kissed his cheek; and Nelson said, “Now I
am satisfied. Thank God I have done my duty!” Hardy stood over
him in silence for a moment or two, then knelt again and kissed
his forehead “Who is that?” said Nelson; and being informed, he
replied, “God bless you, Hardy.” And Hardy then left him for ever.
Nelson now desired to be turned upon his right side, and said, “I
wish I had not left the deck; for I shall soon be gone.” Death was,
indeed, rapidly approaching. He said to the Chaplain, “Doctor,
I have _not_ been a _great_ sinner;” and after a short pause,
“Remember that I leave Lady Hamilton and my daughter Horatia as a
legacy to my country.” His articulation now became difficult; but
he was distinctly heard to say, “Thank God, I have done my duty!”
These words he repeatedly pronounced, and they were the last words
which he uttered. He expired at thirty minutes after four, three
hours and a quarter after he had received his wound.”

TRAKTIR BRIDGE, BATTLE OF.--Fought during the Crimean campaign,
between the French and Sardinian forces, and the Russians--

“The garrison of Sebastopol having failed, on the 2nd of August,
in a desperate attempt to forces the Allied lines by the Woronzoff
Road, remained inactive only in appearance. They were ready for
a new Balaclava and a new Inkerman all in one, so far as the
strategic movement is concerned. In August the Tchernaya is
fordable at many points, well known, of course, to the enemy.
On the 16th of that month they debouched from the Tchouliou
Heights, and descended to the Tchernaya, in the neighbourhood of
Traktir-bridge. Behind this bridge rise, at a little distance,
the Fediukine hills, on which rested the rear of the French army,
which now faced about. To their right were the Sardinians,--to
theirs the Turks. Beyond the river, and under Tchouliou hills is
a valley, along which swarmed the Russian masses, driving the
outposts of the Sardinian Bersaglieri, or sharp-shooters. About
1500 Zouaves and Chasseurs guarded the bridge: they were attacked
by 10,000 Russians, under General Read. For an hour the 1500 held
the 10,000 beneath the storm of artillery which pound upon their
dense columns from one English battery and from the Sardinian and
French artillery. At last, the Russians swarmed over the fords,
forced the bridge, and slowly pushed the brave Zouaves up the hill;
but executed this movement painfully, out of breath, in disorder,
and rent by ordnance. At the hill’s brow the main body of the
French received in their openings comrades worthy of Leonidas, who,
turning, and now backed by strong columns, charged bayonets down
the declivity. Twice the enemy rallied, but in vain. The Sardinians
and French made a final rush, and drove them with carnage upon
their supports, who were thus disarrayed. The artillery reopened,
and the battle was won. General Scarlett’s dragoons came up at this
moment, but General Pelissier deemed pursuit unwise. The enemy
retired on Mackenzie’s Farm. He left on the field a quantity of
fascines, planks, beams, ladders, and sappers’ tools, destined
to destroy the works of the besiegers. He left also 2500 dead;
and 1620 of his wounded were that night in the ambulances of the
French, who took, in addition, 500 prisoners. They themselves lost
180 killed, and 810 wounded--chiefly on and near the bridge. This
great battle occurred the day succeeding the First Napoleon’s natal
anniversary, and the fête-day of the French Empire. It was on that
very morning that the Queen of England set out to pay the first
Royal visit ever made by English Monarch to a Sovereign of that
warlike dynasty. It seemed as if events both in the East and in the
West were conspiring to raise to the highest point the glory of the
Napoleon destinies at one and the same hour.”

TREBIA, BATTLE OF.--Fought between Hannibal and the Romans.
Hannibal taking advantage of the well known impetuosity of the
Romans, sent over at first a detachment of 1000 horse. These
pretending defeat, hastily recrossed the river, followed by the
main body of the Romans. By this means the defeat of the Romans was
insured. Benumbed with wading up to their armpits in water, they
became an easy prey to their enemies; 26,000 were either slain, or
drowned in attempting to cross the river.

TRINCOMALEE.--Taken from the Dutch by the English in 1782. Retaken
by the French same year; restored to the Dutch in 1783. Surrendered
to the British, under Colonel Stewart, August 26th, 1795, and was
confirmed by the peace of Amiens in 1802. Of a series of actions
fought off Trincomalee, between Sir Edward Hughes and the French
Admiral Suffrein, one was fought February 18th, 1782, the enemy
having 11 ships and the British 9. On April 12th following, they
had 18 to 11 ships, and on July 6th, same year, they had 15 to 12
ships. Yet, in every one of these battles, the French suffered
severe defeats.

TRIPLE ALLIANCE.--This celebrated party alliance between the States
General and England against France, was for the protection of the
Netherlands (Holland and Belgium). Sweden afterwards joined the
alliance, January 28th, 1668.

TRIUMPH.--On the day appointed, the General, crowned with laurels,
pronounced an oration to the soldiers and surrounding multitude,
relating his military achievements; then the march began with a
long procession, in which were carried inscriptions, containing
the names of the nations, provinces, or cities, he had conquered;
the priests assisted, leading the beasts used for sacrifice.
The conqueror, in an ivory car, richly ornamented, closed the
procession. He was surrounded by his friends and relations, bearing
branches of laurel; the procession stopped at the Capitol, where
they sacrificed to Jupiter, and deposited part of the spoils.
The lustre of the Roman conquests was often tarnished by their
inhumanity to the conquered; their prisoners, if of high rank,
were only reserved to suffer superior mortifications; the captive
Monarchs and Generals were bound in chains, their heads closely
shaven (a mark of peculiar degradation), and they were thus
presented a sad spectacle to the gazing multitude.

TROYES.--Celebrated for the treaty, May 24th, 1420. The French
were driven from Troyes by the Allied armies, February 7th, 1814.
Retaken by Napoleon, February 28th, and finally occupied by the
Allies, March 4th, same year.

TYRE.--A celebrated city in Asia Minor. Besieged by Nebuchadnezzar,
B.C. 572, and the city demolished a year after its rebuilding.
Taken by Alexander the Great, who spent seven months in the siege,
August 20th, 332 B.C. Thousands of the inhabitants were crucified
by Alexander, along the shore, for the bravery with which they had
defended their city.

U.

ULM, BATTLE OF.--A fierce and bloody engagement between the French
and Austrians, the latter commanded by General Mack, and the French
by Marshal Ney. The French gained a complete victory, the Austrians
losing 36,000 men as prisoners, the flower of their army, and an
immense number of killed and wounded. Fought, October 17th, and
19th, 1805.

UNIFORMS.--First used in France by Louis XIV in 1668, adopted in
England not long after.

USHANT, NAVAL BATTLE OF.--Between the British and French fleets,
when after an indecisive action of three hours, under cover of the
night, the latter withdrew in a deceptive manner to the harbour of
Brest. Keppel commanded the English fleet and the Count d’Ovillier
the French. A dispute occurring between the English Admiral and the
second in command caused the victory to be not so complete as it
would otherwise have been. Fought, July 27th, 1778.

UTRECHT, TREATY OF.--The Union of the seven Provinces began here
A.D. 1579. Celebrated treaty, April 11th, 1713. Surrendered to the
Prussians, May 9th, 1787. Possessed by the French, January 17th,
1795.

V.

VALENCIA, BATTLE OF.--Taken by the Earl of Peterborough in 1705,
and soon again lost. Resisted the attempts of many, but was taken
from the Spaniards by the French, under Suchet, January 9th, 1812;
all the garrison, 16,000 men, and immense stores, surrendered.

VALENCIENNES, SIEGE OF.--Besieged from May 23rd to July 14th, when
the French garrison surrendered to the Duke of York, 1793. Retaken
by the French, on capitulation; the garrison and 1100 emigrants
made prisoners, with immense stores, viz. 200 cannon, 1,000,000
pounds of gunpowder, 8,000,000 florins in specie, 6,000,000 of
livres, 1000 head of cattle, &c., on August 30th, 1794.

VALUE OF PRINCES.--£400,000 was the price paid to the Scots for
delivering up to the English Charles I.

Margaret of Anjou was ransomed for £12,500.

£1,000 offered by Parliament for the head of Charles II.

£30,000 for that of the Pretender.

Richard I was ransomed for the large sum of £100,000 or 150,000
marks; he had before been sold by the Duke Leopold of Austria, to
the Emperor Henry IV, for £60,000.

King John, of France, was to be redeemed by his subjects for the
enormous sum of 3,000,000 crowns, but they could not raise the
amount.

VARNA, BATTLE OF.--The Emperor Nicholas of Russia arrived before
Varna, the head-quarters of his army, then besieging the place,
August 5th, 1828. The Turks made a vigorous attack on the
besiegers August 7th; another on the 21st, but they were repulsed;
surrendered to the Russians, October 1st, 1828. Famous as the
point of _rendezvous_ of the Allied army, preparatory to the
Crimean war. The cholera made dreadful devastation in both the
English and French armies; then a great fire nearly destroyed the
town, but purified the air; and the news of the Crimean invasion
expedition dispelled the gloom and melancholy which pervaded, to a
very great degree, our troops.

VIENNA.--Besieged by the Turks, under Solyman the Magnificent, with
an army of 300,000 men, but forced to raise the siege having lost
70,000 soldiers. Again besieged in 1683, and the siege raised by
the celebrated John Sobieski, King of Poland, who totally routed
the Turkish army of 100,000 men. Taken by the French, November
14th, 1805, and afterwards retaken and taken for some time.

VILLA FRANCA, BATTLE OF.--Engagement here between the British
cavalry, under Cotton, and the French cavalry, under Soult. The
French were defeated, April 10th, 1812. When Napoleon heard of the
result he reproached Soult the first time in his life.

VIMEIRA, BATTLE OF.--Between the British, under Wellington, and
the whole of the French and Spanish forces, in Portugal, under
Marshal Guinot, whom the British signally defeated, August 21st,
1808. The enemy’s force were 14,000 men, of whom 1600 were cavalry.
They attacked the English at Vimeira early in the morning. The
principal assault was on the English centre and left, with the
view, according to a favourite French expression of “driving the
English into the sea,” which was close in their rear. The attack
was made with great bravery but as bravely repulsed. It was
repeated by Kellerman, at the head of the French reserve, which
was also signally repulsed, and the French being charged with the
British bayonet, withdrew on all sides in confusion, leaving many
prisoners, a General Officer, and 14 cannon, with ammunition, in
the hands of the British. French loss, killed and wounded, 1800.
English 720; only one-half of the British force was actually
engaged.

VINEGAR HILL, BATTLE OF.--Between the British troops and the Irish
insurgents, in 1798. The rebels suffered a severe defeat, and much
blood shed on both sides. June 12th, 1798.

VITTORIA, BATTLE OF.--Fought, June 21st, 1813, between the French
and English. The following is a graphic account of this great
victory:

“The splendid achievements of the campaign of 1812 produced their
natural results. Even the torpid obstinacy of Castilian pride was
at last overcome, and by a decree of the Cortes of September 22nd,
1812, the great English General was invested with the supreme
command of the Spanish armies. He repaired to Cadiz on the 24th of
December, and on the 30th he was received by the Cortes in full
assembly. The news of Napoleon’s overthrow in Russia had just
arrived, and all hearts seemed to expand with hope of the speedy
expulsion of his troops from Spain.

England herself also now began to put forth efforts commensurate
with the crisis. At the opening of the year 1813 her land forces
consisted of 228,000 men, besides 28,000 in India, 95,000 militia
at home, and 32,000 foreign troops in the British service. And,
besides these, she had 200,000 native troops in India, a local
militia of 300,000, and a yeomanry cavalry of 68,000, forming a
grand total of 949,000 men in arms; and her expenditure in the year
amounted to £118,000,000 sterling.

Thus supported, her great Commander, of whom it may be questioned
if his equal _in all respects_ ever stood upon a field of battle,
looked forward with reasonable expectation to a coming harvest;
to a campaign in which, after four years’ toils and sufferings,
the grand object of the final expulsion of the French from Spain
might be anticipated. And assuredly the means he took to gain this
end in the simplest and completest manner, were marked by the most
consummate skill and wisdom.

To be nearer to his supplies, and to relieve the wasted provinces
of Spain, Wellington had withdrawn his army into cantonments on
the Coa and the Agueda, that is, in Leon and in Beira, or Northern
Portugal. All the Lusitanian kingdom had long been free from the
French, and the campaign of 1812 had compelled them to abandon all
Andalusia Murcia, Granada, Asturias and Estramadura. The French
army now occupied only central and eastern Spain, the bulk of the
troops being quartered in New and Old Castile.

Wellington’s chief attention was naturally devoted, during the
winter, to the task of reorganizing his forces for the final
struggle of the opening year. His own English army was the only
force he had which was at all in a condition to march against
the enemy. Of the Spanish troops he found it necessary to give
the Spanish Minister of War, in March 1813, the following
description:--“There is not a single battalion or squadron in the
Spanish armies in a condition to take the field; there is not in
the whole kingdom of Spain a depôt of provisions for the support of
a single battalion for one day; there is not a shilling of money in
any military chest. To move them forward at any point now, against
even inconsiderable bodies of the enemy, would be to insure their
certain destruction.”

But by unceasing exertions these evils were, in a measure,
overcome: and Wellington found himself, in the month of May, 1813,
for the first time in a state approaching to an equality with the
French. Their force, which in former years had often amounted to
nearly 400,000 men, was now reduced to 239,000 of which about
197,000 were present with the eagles. Meanwhile Wellington’s
nominal force now amounted to 200,000, and although only about
one-half of this number were fit to take the field, the remainder
was still of use in maintaining the communications, guarding
convoys, and cutting off the foraging parties of the enemy. His
principal army of English and Portuguese mustered about 75,000 men,
of whom about 44,000 were English. The efficiency of the Portuguese
troops was advanced in a surprising manner; reinforcements,
especially of cavalry, had arrived from England; and the
Anglo-Portuguese troops, conscious of an improved organization,
were more confident than ever; while the French, hearing of the
calamities of their brethren in Russia, were proportionably
depressed. Even the Spaniards had, in some numbers, been brought
into better condition:--Wellington had kept them fed and clothed
during the winter, and had now several efficient corps of native
troops, ready to act in conjunction with his own army. Hence, on
the 22nd of May the great English General began his march, and
when he crossed the stream which divides Portugal from Spain, he
rose in his stirrups, and waving his hand, exclaimed, “Good bye to
Portugal!”

The military skill and talent of a commander is never more
conspicuously seen than in those manœuvres by which an enemy is
defeated _without a battle_. Such manœuvres often resemble the
skill and power with which an able and fearless horseman, even
while on the ground, will control a powerful courser, forcing
him backwards by a small leverage upon his mouth. In the present
instance the French still had a considerable army and able
Generals, and they occupied the centre of Spain, defending the
capital, and ready to fight, if needful, a succession of battles
before they would relinquish their prey. But their more able
antagonist forced them to retreat, step by step, without fighting,
until their last and only stand was made at Vittoria, almost in
sight of France; and then delivering his attack, he utterly routed
them, and chased them over the Pyrenees. On the 22nd of May, as we
have said, the English army marched out of Portugal; on the 21st of
June it fought and gained the battle of Vittoria; and before the
1st of July the shattered remains of the French army, with their
King Joseph at their head, had fled over the Pyrenees. Little more
than a single month had sufficed to destroy, uproot, and utterly
abolish the French dominion in Spain, and that at a time, too, when
there were still 197,000 French soldiers in the field, under many
able Commanders.

A brave general of the ordinary kind would have marched in quest
of the French, lying in front of Madrid; would have defeated them,
and taken the capital. All the smaller bodies of French in Spain
would then have been called round the King; and in July a second
battle would have been fought in Arragon, or in front of Burgos.
One more victory,--a third, supposing the English to have been
always victorious, might have sent the French out of Spain; but any
mistake or mishap might have prevented this. But Wellington, by
masterly tactics, always threatening to turn the enemy’s right wing
and to get upon his communications, backed his foe as a man backs
a horse, till he could bring the opposing army into a position fit
for his purpose; and then, delivering at once a knock-down blow, he
drove the whole mass, king and army, in four-and-twenty hours, out
of Spain.

King Joseph had reckoned, in the spring, upon a direct attack by
the great road of Madrid; but when it would come, or where it would
fall, he could not divine, for Wellington kept him constantly in
doubt, by a variety of feigned movements.

At last, towards the end of May, he found that Wellington, sending
40,000 men under Graham through the difficult passes of the
Tras-os-Montes, and moving himself a week after on the Esla, had
carried his whole army, by the 4th of June, over the Douro, and was
now in full march for Valladolid. If he should gain that place,
Joseph well knew that his communications would be cut off, and his
whole army taken, to use Napoleon’s phrase, “_flagrante delicto_.”
Hastily, therefore, Madrid was abandoned, the whole army put in
retreat; and now Joseph would make his stand at Burgos.

Thus 100 miles of Spanish ground had been cleared of the French
without firing a shot. And now, Joseph would fight for his
kingdom in this, his second position. But his Generals examined
the country, and disliked the prospect. Meanwhile Wellington
pushed on, conducting his operations continually on the same
principle,--pushing forwards his left wing, and out-flanking and
turning the French right. Again perplexed, Joseph now abandoned his
second purpose, as he had abandoned his first. Burgos must be given
up, and the retreat must be continued on Vittoria. Into Vittoria
there was poured, therefore, the artillery depôts of Madrid, of
Valladolid, and of Burgos, and the baggage and stores of several
armies; with the King’s valuables, the archives, and papers of the
State and of the army, and a large amount of treasure.

Vittoria is only 26 miles from Irun, on the French frontier. Here,
therefore, had been driven together, like a flock of sheep, the
intruders and plunderers of Spain, and one vigorous assault only
was needed to rid the land of them altogether. It was not long
delayed.

It was about the 15th of June when King Joseph found his army
assembled round Vittoria, reckoning, Napier tells us, from 60,000
to 70,000 men. Wellington had left his sixth division at Medina de
Pomar, and therefore had 60,000 English and Portuguese, besides
some Spanish troops. In the number and calibre of their guns the
French had the advantage.

From the mountain-region through which the British army was
marching, the way to Vittoria lay over many a rugged steep, and
through many dangerous defiles; but no difficulty was allowed to
stop their march. “Six days they toiled unceasingly; but on the
seventh, swelled by a Spanish reinforcement, they burst like raging
streams from every defile, and went foaming into the basin of
Vittoria.”

The French army was drawn up round this basin, which is a small
plain about 10 miles in length, by 8 in breadth, through which runs
the river Zadora. As this battle-field was approached by various
mountain-passes, Wellington resolved to enter it from three sides
at once, forming three distinct combats. General Graham, with a
corps of about 20,000 men, was to attack from the British left, and
to pass the Zadora at Ariaga, near the city of Vittoria. Hill was
to attack from the right with an equal force. Wellington stationed
himself in the centre, with a rather larger force, which was to
descend from the mountain ridges, to cross the Zadora by various
roads, and to march straight upon Vittoria. In fact, the whole
battle was merely an attack on a strong army hemmed in, by an army
equally strong, and marching to the attack on three sides at the
same moment.

At daybreak the English began to move; but the distance to Vittoria
was several miles, and every step was to be contended for. Hill
reached the village of Puebla about ten in the morning; pushed on,
fighting hard, till he gained the village of Subijana de Alava,
and so placed himself in communication with the English centre.
Graham had to make a march of several miles to reach Ariaga, near
Vittoria; but about one o’clock his attack began to tell. This was
a serious one for the French; for, if successful, it would cut
them off from the great road to Bayonne. King Joseph, finding both
his flanks thus threatened, sent an order to the centre to retire.
But the troops were fiercely engaged, and retreat was difficult.
Meanwhile, however, three attacks of the English, right, left, and
centre, were all succeeding; and step by step, the French were
being pushed back upon Vittoria.

“At six o’clock,” says Napier, “the French reached the last
defensible height in front of Vittoria. Behind them was the plain
in which the city stood, and beyond the city were thousands of
carriages and animals, and of men, women, and children, crowded
together in all the madness of terror; and as the English shot
went booming overhead, the vast crowd started and swerved with a
convulsive movement, while a dull and horrid cry of distress arose;
but there was no hope, no stay for army or multitude, it was the
wreck of a nation!” Still the courage of the French soldiers was
unquelled. Their artillery for a time kept the Allies in check, but
suddenly the fourth English division, rushing forward, carried a
hill on the left, and the heights were at once abandoned. Joseph
finding the main road so completely blocked up by carriages that
the artillery could not pass, indicated the road of Salvatierra
as the line of retreat, and the army went off in a confused and
yet compact body on that side, leaving Vittoria on its left. The
British infantry followed hard, and the light cavalry galloped
through the town to intercept the new line of retreat. All became
disorder and confusion, the guns were left, while the artillerymen
fled with the horses. Vehemently and closely did the British
pursue, and nothing could stop their victorious career until night
and the disappearance of the flying masses had ended the struggle.
The French lost all their artillery, all their baggage, all their
equipages, all their stores, treasures, and papers, “so that no
man,” says a French writer, “could prove even how much pay was due
to him. Generals and subordinate officers were alike reduced to the
clothes on their backs, and many of them were barefooted.”

“Never was victory more complete. The trophies were innumerable.
Marshal Jourdan’s baton of command was brought to Lord Wellington,
who sent it to the Prince Regent, from whom he quickly received
one of an English marshal in return. The loss of the French was
never ascertained; that of the Allies was 3,567 English, 1,059
Portuguese, and 550 Spanish. The spoil taken was enormous. “The
soldiers of the army,” wrote Lord Wellington, “have got among them
about 1,000,000 sterling in money, with the exception of about
100,000 dollars found in the military chest. Rich vestures of all
sorts, gold and silver plate, pictures, jewels, parrots, monkeys,
and children, lay scattered about the field amidst weeping mothers
and wailing children. Joseph himself narrowly escaped; a squadron
of dragoons pursued his carriage and fired into it.”

All the remaining bodies of the French in Spain fell in the fall
of Vittoria. They escaped out of the kingdom by various roads
as quickly as possible. “Joseph’s reign was over, the crown had
fallen from his head, and after years of toil and combats, which
had rather been admired than understood, the great English leader,
emerging from the chaos of the Peninsular struggle, stood on the
summit of the Pyrenees a recognized conqueror. From those lofty
pinnacles the clangour of his trumpets pealed clear and loud, and
the splendour of his genius appeared as a flaming beacon to warring
nations.”[15]

Thus, in some five or six weeks, had a great kingdom been cleared
of its invaders and oppressors--not by the power of superior
numbers, but by the natural ascendency of a consummate military
genius. “Here,” remarks Napier, “was a noble army driven like sheep
before prowling wolves, although in every action the officers
had been prompt and skilful, and the soldiers brave, firm, and
obedient. The French troops were excellent and numerous, and the
country strong and favourable for defence; but the soul of a great
Commander was wanting; and hence, the Esla, the Tormes, the Douro,
the Pisuerga, seemed to be all dried up, the mountains to be
levelled; and 60,000 veteran soldiers, willing to fight at every
step, were hurried with all the tumult and confusion of defeat
across the Ebro.”

The deliverance of the Peninsula, by a force so far inferior to
that of the French, must always remain one of Wellington’s greatest
glories. The same French writer, whom we have already quoted, Jules
Maurel, remarks this surprising fact. He says: “The truth is,
that from 1808 to 1813, Wellington never had 30,000 English under
his orders, even at a period when the Imperial armies deluged the
Peninsula with no fewer than 370,000 men.”

Nor were the results of this great day confined to the Spanish
peninsula. Like its predecessor, the victory of Salamanca, the
battle of Vittoria shook the whole continent of Europe. Napoleon
himself, holding his ground at Dresden, had, up to this moment,
succeeded in withholding Austria from any actual participation in
the confederacy against him. He had even succeeded, on the 30th
of June, in obtaining a convention for the restoration of peace
between himself, Russia and Prussia. But the very next day the news
of the expulsion of the French from Spain reached Dresden, filling
Napoleon and his ministers with consternation, and giving new
life and vigour to the Russian and Prussian councils. The Allies
regretted that any cessation of arms had been agreed to, and they
began to long for its termination. The very moment it expired by
lapse of time, Austria joined the Allies; war was actively resumed,
and the autumn had not ended before Napoleon had been driven across
the Rhine, and Germany freed from the presence of the French armies.

The French writer from whom we have just quoted, Jules Maurel, thus
notices this remarkable passage in modern history:

“Scarcely had the armistice been signed when intelligence arrived
that the French had lost everything in Spain. In 40 days Wellington
had turned, one after another, all the positions occupied by the
French armies of the centre, of the south and of the north, and had
crossed the Tormes, the Douro, the Esla, the Carrion, and the Ebro.
He had reached Vittoria; he had gained a decisive battle; he had
expelled King Joseph from the Peninsula, and had planted his army
on the Pyrenees. In the beginning of May he was in Portugal; on
the 23rd of June he was on the frontiers of France. The defeat of
Vittoria entirely neutralized the victories of Lutzen and Bautzen,
and at once restored the coalition.”

VOUGLE, BATTLE OF.--Fought between Alaric II and Clovis of France.
Alaric was entirely overthrown, and the whole country subdued.
Clovis afterwards made Paris the capital, and became the founder of
the French Monarchy.

W.

WAGRAM, BATTLE OF.--Fought, July 5th, 1809, between the Austrians
and French, in which the former were completely overthrown; 20,000
were taken by the French. The slaughter on both sides was dreadful.
The defeated army retreated into Moravia.

WAKEFIELD, BATTLE OF.--Fought, December 31st, 1460, between Queen
Margaret, the wife of Henry VI, and the Duke of York, in which the
latter was slain, and 3000 Yorkists fell in the field. This was one
of the bloodiest battles between the houses of York and Lancaster.

WALCHEREN EXPEDITION.--This important expedition consisted of
thirty-five ships of the line, and 200 smaller vessels, and 40,000
troops, under the command of the Earl of Chatham. The fleet was
commanded by Sir Richard Strachan. A large number of the forces
died, and the whole expedition came to nothing, December 28th, 1809.

WARSAW, BATTLES OF.--The Poles suffered a great defeat here from
the Russians, October 10th and 12th, 1794. Suwarrow, the Russian
General, after the siege of Warsaw, cruelly butchered 30,000 Poles,
November 8th, 1794. The battle preceding the surrender of Warsaw
was fearfully bloody; of 26,000 men, more than 10,000 were killed;
nearly 10,000 were made prisoners, and only 2000 escaped the
merciless fury of the Russian butcher. Another battle fought here,
and the Poles again defeated, September 7th and 8th, 1831.

WASHINGTON.--Taken, August 24th, 1814, in the war between Great
Britain and the United States, by General Ross, when all the superb
national structures were consumed, in a general conflagration--the
troops not sparing the national library.

WATERLOO, BATTLE OF.--The greatest of all British engagements,
fought June 18th, 1815, between the Duke of Wellington and
Napoleon. The carnage on both sides was immense. The account of
this great battle is taken from the “Twelve Great Battles of
England.” The following is a fine account of the visit of Scott
to the field of Waterloo after the battle, and also Alison on the
defeat of the Old Guard:

  WATERLOO AT NOON ON THE DAY AFTER THE BATTLE.

“On a surface of two square miles, it was ascertained that 50,000
men and horses were lying! The luxurious crop of ripe grain which
had covered the field of battle was reduced to litter, and beaten
into the earth; and the surface, trodden down by the cavalry, and
furrowed deeply by the cannon wheels, was strewn with many a relic
of the fight. Helmets and cuirasses, shattered fire-arms and broken
swords; all the variety of military ornaments; Lancer caps and
Highland bonnets; uniforms of every colour, plume, and pennon;
musical instruments, the apparatus of artillery, drums, bugles;
but, good God! why dwell on the harrowing picture of a foughten
field? Each and every ruinous display bore mute testimony to the
misery of such a battle. * * * Could the melancholy appearance
of this scene of death be heightened, it would be by witnessing
the researches of the living midst its desolation for the objects
of their love. Mothers, and wives, and children, for days were
occupied in that mournful duty; and the confusion of the corpses,
friend and foe intermingled as they were, often rendered the
attempt at recognising individuals difficult, and in some cases
impossible. * * * In many places the dead lay four deep upon each
other, marking the spot some British square had occupied, when
exposed for hours to the murderous fire of a French battery.
Outside, lancer and cuirassier were scattered thickly on the earth.
Madly attempting to force the serried bayonets of the British,
they had fallen, in the bootless essay, by the musketry of the
inner files. Farther on, you traced the spot where the cavalry
of France and England had encountered. Chasseur and hussar were
intermingled; and the heavy Norman horse of the Imperial Guard were
interspersed with the grey chargers which had carried Albion’s
chivalry. Here the Highlander and tirailleur lay, side by side,
together; and the heavy dragoon, with Green Erin’s badge upon his
helmet, was grappling in death with the Polish lancer. * * * On
the summit of the ridge, where the ground was covered with death,
and trodden fetlock-deep in mud and gore, by the frequent rush
of rival cavalry, the thick-strewn corpses of the Imperial Guard
pointed out the spot where Napoleon had been defeated. Here, in
column, that favoured corps, on whom his last chance rested, had
been annihilated; and the advance and repulse of the Guard was
traceable by a mass of fallen Frenchmen. In the hollow below, the
last struggle of France had been vainly made; for the Old Guard,
when the middle battalion had been forced back, attempted to meet
the British, and afford time for their disorganised companions to
rally. Here the British left, which had converged upon the French
centre, had come up; and here the bayonet closed the contest.”

  DEFEAT OF THE OLD GUARD AT WATERLOO.

“The Imperial Guard was divided into two columns, which, advancing
from different parts of the field, were to converge to the decisive
point on the British right centre, about midway between La Haye
Sainte and the nearest enclosures of Hougoumont. Reille commanded
the first column, which was supported by all the infantry and
cavalry which remained of his corps on either flank, and advanced
up the hill in a slanting direction, beside the orchard of
Hougoumont. The second was headed by Ney in person, and moving down
the _chaussée_ of Charleroi to the bottom of the slope, it then
inclined to the left, and leaving La Haye Sainte to the right,
mounted the slope, also in a slanting direction, converging towards
the same point whither the other column was directing its steps.
Napoleon went with this column as far as the place where it left
the hollow of the high road, and spoke a few words--the last he
ever addressed to his soldiers--to each battalion in passing. The
men moved on with shouts of _Vive l’Empereur!_ so loud as to be
heard along the whole British line, above the roar of artillery,
and it was universally thought the Emperor himself was heading the
attack. But, meanwhile, Wellington had not been idle. Sir Frederick
Adam’s brigade, consisting of the 52nd, 71st, and 95th, and General
Maitland’s brigade of Guards, which had been drawn from Hougoumont,
with Chasse’s Dutch troops, yet fresh, were ordered to bring up
their right shoulders, and wheel inward, with their guns in front,
towards the edge of the ridge; and the whole batteries in that
quarter inclined to the left, so as to expose the advancing columns
coming up to a concentric fire on either flank: the central point,
where the attack seemed likely to fall, was strengthened by nine
heavy guns; the troops at that point were drawn up four deep, in
the form of an interior angle: the Guards forming one side, the
73rd and 30th the other;--while the light cavalry of Vivian and
Vandeleur was brought up behind the line, at the back of La Haye
Sainte, and stationed close in the rear, so as to be ready to make
the most of any advantage which might occur.

It was a quarter past seven when the first column of the Old
Guard, under Reille, advanced to the attack; but the effect of the
artillery on its flank was such, that the cavalry were quickly
dispersed: and the French battalions uncovered, showed their long
flank to Adam’s guns, which opened on them a fire so terrible, that
the head of the column, constantly pushed on by the mass in the
rear, never advanced, but melted away as it came into the scene of
carnage. Shortly after, Ney’s column approached with an intrepid
step; the veterans of Wagram and Austerlitz were there; no force
on earth seemed capable of resisting them; they had decided every
former battle. Drouot was beside the Marshal, who repeatedly said
to him they were about to gain a glorious victory. General Friant
was killed by Ney’s side: the Marshal’s own horse was shot under
him; but bravely advancing on foot, with his drawn sabre in his
hand, he sought death from the enemy’s volleys. The impulse of
this massy column was at first irresistible; the guns were forced
back, and the Imperial Guard came up to within forty paces of the
English Foot Guards, and the 73rd and 30th regiments. These men
were lying down, four deep, in a small ditch behind the rough road,
which there goes along the summit of the ridge. “Up Guards, and at
them!” cried the Duke, who had repaired to the spot; and the whole,
on both sides of the angle into which the French were advancing,
springing up, moved forward a few paces, and poured in a volley
so close and well directed, that nearly the whole first two ranks
of the French fell at once. Gradually advancing, they now pushed
the immense column, yet bravely combatting, down the slope; and
Wellington, at that decisive instant, ordered Vivian’s brigade to
charge the retiring body on one flank, while Adam’s foot advanced
against it on the other. The effect of this triple attack, at once
in front and on both flanks, was decisive: the 52nd and 71st,
swiftly converging inward, threw in so terrible a volley on their
left flank, that the Imperial Guard swerved in disorder to the
right; and at that very instant the 10th, 18th, and 21st dragoons,
under Vivian, bore down with irresistible fury, and piercing right
through the body, threw it into irrevocable confusion. The cry,
“Tout est perdu--la Garde recule!” arose in the French ranks, and
the enormous mass, driven headlong down the hill, overwhelmed
everything which came in its way, and spread disorder through the
whole French centre.”

  DESCRIPTION OF WATERLOO FROM THE TWELVE BATTLES.

“We have seen the three several stages by which the Duke of
Wellington had conducted the British army to that elevated position
in which the peace of 1814 left it. We have seen how it had, first,
on the broad fields of Castile, boldly encountered a French army
of twice its strength, and had sent it back in defeat. Next, at
Salamanca, meeting an army of equal force, it had scattered it by
an assault of a single hour, annihilating at a blow one-half of
its strength. And lastly, falling upon the intrusive King himself
in his final position of retreat and defence at Vittoria, it had
driven his entire array, like a flock of frightened sheep, over the
Pyrenees. After those triumphs, by which a whole realm of great
extent had been delivered from its invaders, there seemed scarcely
any way by which the fame and honour of the British army and its
illustrious Commander could be enhanced, except by an event not to
be anticipated--an encounter with the great conqueror of modern
times, now an exile at Elba; and a triumph over him.

This event, however unlikely it might seem, was reserved for
England’s soldiers and her General; and it occurred in less than
a year after the apparent restoration of peace. Napoleon suddenly
left his island-home, reappeared in France, gathered his soldiers
round him, and re-entered Paris as once more its Emperor. Naturally
enough, the Sovereigns who had compelled his retirement, scarcely
nine months before, resolved to maintain their position; and
they covenanted with each other to place armies amounting to
600,000 men on the soil of France in the course of July, 1815.
The British portion of this force was collecting together in the
months of May and June, under the Duke’s command; when Napoleon
determined not to wait for the attack, but to carry the war into
the allied territories; and, accordingly, in the second week in
June he entered Belgium. Before he had proceeded twenty miles he
encountered both the English and the Prussian armies, and on the
fourth day, at a distance of about thirty miles from the French
frontier, was fought the great and decisive battle of Waterloo.

This momentous contest will require of us a more lengthened
description than we have given of any of the great battles; both
because it was an event of the highest possible importance to the
fate of England, of Europe, and of the world; and also because it
was, so to speak, a succession of battles fought on one field, and
on the same day. In a former case we have seen “an army of forty
thousand men defeated in forty minutes;” but here the deadly strife
occupied nearly ten hours. The French opened the attack at eleven
in the morning, and at nine o’clock at night the last of their
battalions had not yet quitted the field. In the course of these
ten hours four or five desperate and prolonged contests had taken
place; each of which might have been justly called a battle. It
will be impossible, therefore, to give any fair or complete idea of
this long continued struggle, without occupying much greater space
than is required for an ordinary battle.

It is also a history which is thickly strewn with controversies.
The defeated General himself was the first to open this wordy
strife. The loss of the fight of Waterloo was a fact to which he
never could be reconciled. That battle hurled him, finally, from
the throne on which he had for the second time seated himself,
and sent him to wear out the few remaining years of his life on
the rock of St. Helena. In that retirement he occupied himself,
for the most part, in a series of efforts to resuscitate his
extinguished “glory.”[16] In these attempts he was hampered by
no moral scruples; for, as Emerson has remarked, “this, the
highest-placed individual in the world, had not the merit of common
truth and honesty; he would steal, slander, assassinate, as his
interest indicated.” Any reasonable man, therefore, will read his
“Historical Memoir,” book ix, written at St. Helena, and published
in London in 1820, with that caution which is so plainly called for
when a document is confessedly an _exparte_ statement, and written
by one who is known to be of unscrupulous character.

Yet that document has been received in many quarters with a
credulity which is somewhat surprising. It is true that this
credulity may be accounted for in the case of the French
historians--who, obliged to confess that their defeat at Waterloo
was “horrible”--a “massacre”--a “deluge of blood”--are glad to have
supplied to them, under Napoleon’s own hand, the apology that he
was overmatched and greatly outnumbered; and that yet, after all,
he would have proved victorious if one of his Generals had not
disobeyed his commands.

The latter of these two pleas has been generally rejected by
English writers--utterly denied as its truth has been by the
party so accused. But, strangely enough, although there was every
probability that Napoleon’s account of his own strength, and of
that of his opponent, would be wholly untrustworthy--several of our
best English writers have given entire credence of his statement
of the real amount of his army; even while those statements are
clearly refuted by abundant testimonies of many Frenchmen. And this
point is not an immaterial one. For if we could admit the truth of
Napoleon’s final conclusion, that “On that day 69,000 French beat
120,000 men, and the victory was only torn from them between eight
and nine o’clock at night by the increase of the allies to 150,000
men”[17]--what merit could we assign to the British soldiers, or to
their great commander, for such a victory? But, in sober verity, of
all the falsehoods deliberately put forth by Napoleon in the course
of his life, this, probably, is nearly the greatest.

Let us, however, now endeavour to arrange our narrative in its
proper order. The army which was assembling in Belgium under
the Duke’s command, had reached, in the beginning of June, the
respectable amount of almost 100,000 men. It contained, however,
far more Belgians, Hanoverians, Brunswickers, and Dutchmen, than
British troops, and far more new levies, landwehr, and militia,
than of experienced soldiers. The English regiments which had
followed the Duke through all the fields of Spain had been sent to
America, and were now on the Atlantic, on their return home. He had
some of the Guards, and a few other regiments of some standing; but
the largest portion of the British troops which had yet reached
Belgium were second battalions--new recruits drafted from the
militia--and the same observation would apply to the Hanoverians
and other auxiliaries.

It was a knowledge of this intrinsic weakness of the Duke’s army,
and of the fact that 10,000 or 15,000 of his old Peninsular
troops would soon join him, that decided Napoleon, as is frankly
confessed,[18] to make a sudden attack on the British and Prussian
forces before they were fully prepared to meet him. Silently,
therefore, but with his usual skill and rapidity, Napoleon brought
together a powerful army, and on the morning of the 15th of June he
moved forward and entered Belgium.

And here we are met by the most current of all the fictions
which are connected with this history. A variety of writers have
repeated, one after another--Napoleon himself setting them the
example--the story that the Duke never heard of the approach of the
French until eleven o’clock in the evening of that day, while at a
ball at Brussels. The facts, however, which are beyond dispute, are
these--that the French did not enter Charleroi, the first Belgian
town, until eleven or twelve o’clock on June the 15th--that tidings
of their movement reached the Duke at Brussels by three o’clock,
and that between four and five o’clock that same afternoon orders
went out to every corps of the British army to move to the front,
many of them beginning their march that same evening. There was no
surprise, then, nor was there the loss of a single day. The French
had not marched thirty miles--had not entered any place of the
least importance, when, on the third day, they found the British
army drawn up across their path, and had to fight the battle of
Waterloo.

They had, indeed, found their progress arrested still earlier.
Entering Belgium on the 15th, they were stopped the very next day
at Ligny by the Prussians, at Quatre Bras by a part of the English
army. Marshal Blucher being defeated, and retiring a few miles,
the Duke fell back also, and thus was enabled to draw up his army
at Waterloo--a position which he had before observed to be an
advantageous one, and which was in all respects well suited to the
defence of Brussels.

It was on the afternoon of the 17th June that the Duke’s army found
itself assembled on this spot. The French army, led by Napoleon
himself, soon approached, but the day was too far advanced to
afford time for a general engagement. The two armies, therefore,
took position, the English on a rising ground called Mont St. Jean,
about half a mile in advance of the village of Waterloo, and nine
miles on the French side of Brussels; the French on a series of
heights facing Mont St. Jean, having the village of Planchenoit on
the right, and looking down upon a small valley which separated the
two hosts.

And now we are naturally brought to a consideration of the
question, what was the respective strength of these two armies?
This is a point upon which Napoleon has bestowed great pains in
his “Historical Memoir, Book ix,” and on which he has succeeded in
deluding many English writers.

As to the strength of the British army, there can be no kind of
doubt upon that point, for the actual numbers present in each
battalion and squadron was carefully recorded; and these records
were needed to establish the respective rights of all present to
honours and rewards. We have spoken of a gross amount of nearly
100,000 men. But of these, several thousands were required to
garrison Antwerp, Ostend, Nieuport, Ypres, Tournai, and Mons,--the
loss at Quatre Bras had been 3000 or 4000, and a post of
observation at Hal, consisted of nearly 6000. When these deductions
were made, not quite 70,000 men remained, to meet Napoleon’s attack
at Waterloo.

The British infantry in the field were 15,181, and the German
Legion infantry were 3301. The British and German cavalry were
7840, and their artillery was 3493. Thus the whole reliable force
of the Duke--the force to which he must look to stand the French
attack--was not quite 30,000 men. All this was well known to
Napoleon, who, in his “Book ix,” says, “Victory appeared to be
_certain_,” for the French army consisted of “good troops, while,
in the enemy’s army, the English only, amounting to 40,000 _at
most_, could be reckoned upon as such.”[19]

The “Allied troops,” who made up the Duke’s array, consisted of
10,755 Hanoverians, many of whom were mere landwehr or militia, and
nearly 25,000 Belgians, Dutch, and men of Brunswick and Nassau.
Some of these fought gallantly, but others retreated whenever
the French approached,--some actually flying from the field.
Hence Napoleon justly says, “one Englishman might be counted
for one Frenchman:--two Dutchmen, Prussians, or soldiers of the
Confederation, for one Frenchman.”

Adopting, therefore, Napoleon’s own method of calculation, we may
say, that the Duke had an army nominally amounting to about 68,000
men, really equal to something less than 50,000.

And now we turn to the other side of the account. Here we must,
to be safe, accept only French testimony. If we draw together all
the credible statements of this class that we can find, we shall
probably be able to arrive at a just conclusion.

There was published at Paris, in 1815, a volume by an officer
attached to the staff, which may be considered to be “the French
account,” at the time and in detail, of this battle. In this
volume, the whole army which entered Belgium is stated to have been
“150,000 effective men of whom about 30,000 were cavalry.” It seems
improbable that a staff-officer should have greatly erred, or that
a Frenchman should have exaggerated the strength of the beaten
army. Reckoning, therefore, the gross number to have been 150,000;
and deducting 15,000 for losses at Ligny, and at Quatre Bras, we
may estimate the force detached under Grouchy on the 17th, at about
38 or 40,000 men, and the strength of the French army at Waterloo
at something more than 90,000.

And this estimate precisely agrees with Napoleon’s own statement,
written at Paris three days after the battle. In this bulletin he
says, “We estimated the force of the English army at 80,000 men. We
_supposed_ that a Prussian corps which _might be_ in line toward
the right might be 15,000 men. The enemy’s force, then, was upwards
of 90,000 men; ours less numerous.”

He is here speaking of the morning. But there was not a Prussian
soldier in the field until five o’clock in the afternoon; and this
Napoleon well knew. Why, then, does he here introduce a “supposed”
Prussian corps? Clearly, in order to bring up the allied force
to 95,000 men, so that he might be able to add, “Ours, _less
numerous_.” He had every possible motive, as a beaten General,
striving to make the best of his case,--for saying, _if he had
dared_,--“The enemy was more than 90,000 strong, but we had not
quite 70,000.” But he could not venture, in the face of abundant
evidence then existing, to say that his army was less than 80,000,
the force he assigns to the English. He therefore, by an “ingenious
device,” augments the allied force to 95,000; and then he can
venture to assert that his own army was inferior in numbers. There
is clearly implied in this statement an admission that his own
force was not greatly below 95,000.

Yet when Ney and others were dead, and the records, in all
probability, scattered or destroyed, the same man who wrote this
bulletin, concocted at St. Helena, four or five years after, a
widely-different account. In his “Book ix,” p. 128, he puts forth
an elaborate table, purporting to show, that the whole force of the
French army at Waterloo was only 68,650 men! And such has been the
imposing effect of this table, that many English writers, while
they could detect the falsehood of other statements in that same
volume, still accepted, as an undeniable fact, the conclusion, that
Napoleon’s army at Waterloo consisted of only 68,650 men! Yet only
common prudence, and the use of a little careful scrutiny, was
needed, to prove that these same elaborate tables in “Book ix” were
nothing more than what is usually called, in railway language, “a
cooked account.”

The proof of this shall be given from French writers alone. And,
first, let “Book ix” refute itself, by its own self contradictions.
At page 71, it gives the second corps, 19,800 infantry; while at
p. 95-97, it states the same infantry, at the same moment, at
21,000. At page 128 it gives the first corps 16,500 infantry, and
at table F it calls the same infantry, 17,600. At page 128 the
cavalry of the Guard and the third and fourth corps of cavalry are
stated at 10,000; while at pp. 158 and 173 they are twice called
12,000. At p. 35 we are told that “the regiments generally had but
two battalions; each battalion consisting of 600 men, _present and
under arms_.” Yet in the principal table, F, the regiments are
always estimated at either 1000 or 1100 men, the battalions at 500
or 550. Thus it is abundantly clear, even from the pages of “Book
ix” itself, that its writer is one who “plays at fast and loose
with figures.”

But other refutations, from purely French sources, are abundant.
We have seen that Napoleon states, in “Book ix,” p. 35, that his
battalions had 600 men; but that he quietly puts them down in table
F, as being only 500 or 550.

Now in his portfolio, captured at Charleroi, and published at
Brussels, there was one report, made by an officer named De
Launoy, and dated “Montalimert, June 4th,” which said, “The first
battalion, 720 strong, marched on the 1st of June.” And, in the
_Moniteur_ of May 28th, published at Paris under Napoleon’s own
authority, there was given a letter dated “Lille, May 26th,” which
says, “Our garrison is entirely composed of battalions of select
troops, which successively arrive: the 20th arrived yesterday;
almost all consist of 720 men; we are expecting two battalions of
veterans.” Now these troops formed part of the first corps, as
stated in “Book ix,” p. 31; and in table F they are all set down as
having in each battalion, 550 men!

It was of this first corps that Marshal Ney spoke in his letter
of June 26th, 1815, in which he complained of having it taken
away from him on the 16th. He describes it as having consisted
of “between 25,000 and 30,000 men.” He must have had the actual
returns in his pocket when he wrote this. Now if the battalions
generally consisted of 720 men, as the _Moniteur_ of May 28th
had told us, then its thirty-two battalions would have contained
23,040; which added to 1400 cavalry, and 1564 artillery men, would
be accurately described as “between 25,000 and 30,000 men.” But
Napoleon, in his statement of the force at Waterloo, sets down
the infantry of this corps as only 16,500; thus contradicting at
once the statement of the _Moniteur_, the report found in his own
portfolio, and the declaration of the Marshal who commanded that
corps!

In the same spirit, in the table of the troops at Waterloo, (Book
ix, p. 128,) we find the infantry of the Guard set down as being
11,500. Yet Gourgaud, Napoleon’s Aide-de-Camp, and Fleury de
Chaboulon, his secretary, both concur in stating this infantry to
have been 14,000.[20]

Of the heavy cavalry we have already seen, that while Napoleon,
in his table, at p. 128, sets it down at 4000, 3000, and 3000, or
10,000 in all, he afterwards twice describes it, at p. 158 and at
p. 173, as “these 12,000 select horse.”

Once more, in “Book ix,” p. 129, he states the force detached under
Grouchy to have been 34,300. His own companion at St. Helena,
General Montholon, in his history, (vol. i, p. 14,) calls this
force 42,000.

All this evidence, then, drawn from several quarters, but wholly
French, points to one conclusion,--namely, that Napoleon, in
forming his tables for “Book ix,” deliberately reduced his real
strength at Waterloo by about one-fourth or one-fifth; and that his
first statement, in his bulletin issued at the time, was the true
one; namely, that his army was only somewhat “less numerous than
95,000.”

And to this conclusion a remarkable support is found, in
the behaviour of the two Generals on the day preceding the
action. Wellington had beaten nearly every one of Napoleon’s
Marshals;[21]--and could not but feel a degree of exultation at the
thought of meeting the master of them all. Napoleon, on his part,
had to encounter a General who had never been conquered. Supposing,
then, the armies to have been nearly equal in strength, what might
have been anticipated, but a degree of eager anticipation on
Wellington’s side, and of seriousness on Napoleon’s? Instead of
which, what do we hear? The Duke writes to Marshal Blucher, that he
will accept battle, _if_ the Marshal will assist him with one corps
of his army. Meanwhile, Napoleon’s only anxiety is lest the English
should escape him. “He was surprised,” writes his secretary,
Fleury, “when daylight discovered to him that the English army had
not quitted its positions, but appeared disposed to accept battle.”
“He returned to his head-quarters (Book ix, p. 125) full of
satisfaction at the great fault committed by the enemy’s General.”
“He held this,” says Brialmont, “to be rashness, and a fault,
exclaiming, ‘At last, then, I have them,--these English!’” Do not
these views and anticipations, on the part of both of the Generals,
make it quite evident that each of them was fully aware of the
great superiority of the French army; and of the temerity of which
the Duke would be guilty if, without any assurance of support, he
ventured on an engagement in the face of such odds?

It is worth remark, too, that while several of the best English
writers have accepted with the most good-natured simplicity,
Napoleon’s own account of the force with which he fought this
battle--French historians, even when admirers of Napoleon, show
much less faith in his assertions. Thus, Lamartine, having
Napoleon’s ixth Book before him, in which the number, “sixty-eight
thousand, six hundred and fifty men,” is strenuously insisted
on--quietly disregards the fiction, and repeatedly speaks of the
French force as being “eighty thousand men.”[22]

But Napoleon’s “_certainty_ of success,” of which he speaks at p.
127 of his Book ix, rested more upon the superior _quality_ of
his troops than on their superior _numbers_. He was thoroughly
well aware, both of the slight value of the Belgian and Hanoverian
auxiliaries, and of the excellence of his own troops. And the Duke,
also, knew full well both of these facts. On the 8th of May he had
written to Lord Stewart, “I have got an infamous army; very weak
and ill-equipped; and a very inexperienced staff.” And seven days
after the battle, he repeated to Lord Bathurst, that he had got
“not only the worst troops, but the worst-equipped army, with the
worst staff, that ever was brought together.”[23]

On the other hand, Napoleon’s army was, for its amount, the finest
that he had ever led into the field. Thus his secretary, Fleury,
says, “The whole army was superb, and full of ardour.” Lamartine
speaks of it as “his grand army of chosen men; every battalion of
which had a soul equal to the utmost extremity.” Napoleon himself,
in “Book ix,” says: “The spectacle was really magnificent: the
earth seemed proud of being trod by such intrepid combatants.” And
at St. Helena he told O’Meara: “My troops were so good, that I
esteemed them sufficient to beat a hundred and twenty thousand.”[24]

Thus, as Brialmont remarks, whatever might be the numerical
proportion of the two armies, “when we come to look at the
respective qualities of the troops, the inferiority of the
Anglo-Belgian army _was enormous_. Not only was it composed of
heterogeneous elements, but it consisted almost entirely of young
soldiers, a large proportion of whom had never been under fire. The
Hanoverian contingent was made up of militia; and many regiments
were fit only for garrison duty.”[25]

The evening which preceded the memorable 18th of June was dark
and cloudy; the rain fell in torrents, and the men were often
ankle-deep in water. But, however deplorable might be their
outward condition, the interest of this eventful moment rendered
the combatants on either side, almost insensible to physical
sufferings. Every man in both armies knew that a great and
decisive battle was to be fought on the following day. With the
opening morning, then, would begin what might prove the final
contest,--ending a strife of nations which had lasted more than
twenty years. The two greatest Generals of the age were for the
first time to be brought into collision: the conqueror of Europe
was to measure swords with the deliverer of Spain. No two such
leaders, it has been well observed, had confronted each other,
since Hannibal and Scipio met at Zama.

Doubtless, and very naturally, the greatest degree of confidence
was felt in the camp of the invaders. The French soldiers relied
with reason on the extraordinary talents of their great leader,
victorious in fifty contests, foiled in scarcely any. The men
who stood by his side, too, were the veterans who had marched
triumphantly over many victorious fields, and who now felt defeat,
under such a Captain, to be scarcely possible. They were confident,
too, in their numbers. All of them had heard that the Emperor had
carried over the frontier a picked army of 150,000 men. They saw
on the heights around them the first and second corps, amounting
together to nearly 50,000 men, with the sixth, less numerous,
in reserve. The Imperial Guard was there, from 18,000 to 20,000
strong,--the finest troops that France had ever possessed, and the
cuirassiers, nearly 6,000 in number. What could a mixed force of a
few English, joined with Belgians, Hanoverians, and Dutchmen, do
against such a power?

Very naturally, therefore, we learn from Gourgaud, that “the French
troops were full of enthusiasm. Such were the acclamations of joy,
that they prevented the orders from being heard.”[26] From Napoleon
to his Generals, from the Generals to the troops, the feeling
had spread and become universal. “Ah! we have them, then,--these
English!”

The British troops had not the same ground of confidence. They knew
well that their own numbers did not amount to one-third of the
strength of Napoleon’s army, and that the Hanoverian and Belgian
landwehr, by whom their line was to be filled up, were of very
uncertain value. Many of the battalions, both English and foreign,
had never been in action before. Still, they had a great and
well-founded trust in their Commander; and with a spirit like his
own, they meant to _do their duty_, and while they lived, to stand
their ground.

The field of Waterloo, or the heights of Mont St. Jean, as the
English and the French respectively call this spot, is a piece of
slightly-elevated ground lying, as we have already said, about 1000
yards in advance of the village of Waterloo. Brussels, in which
Napoleon intended to sleep that night, was about nine miles in the
rear of the English army. The main road from Charleroi to Brussels
passed through the French position, descended into the valley, and
then ascended Mont St. Jean, cutting the English position at right
angles near a farm-house called La Haye Sainte. The English line
lay about 200 yards behind this farm-house. Here was the centre
and left centre. In advance of the right wing of the English army,
and between it and the left wing of the French, stood a larger
house, surrounded by walled gardens and orchards, and called
Hougoumont. As this place would have afforded great advantages to
the French in preparing attacking columns, the Duke placed in it
some companies of the Foot-Guards, with some Nassau and Hanoverian
troops, and enjoined its resolute defence. Well were his orders
obeyed, for the utmost efforts of a whole army corps of the French
were ineffectual to carry this position. The French lost 6 or 8000
men in the attempt, but up to the very close of the day the English
Foot-Guards maintained their possession.

The position of Waterloo was deliberately chosen by the Duke,
and the choice is commended by all unprejudiced critics. Yet
Napoleon, ungenerous throughout, strives to depreciate his
antagonist’s judgment in this particular. He says, in “Book
ix:”--“The English General had in his rear the defiles of the
forest of Soignes, so that if beaten, retreat was impossible”
(p. 125). Upon which M. Lamartine observes: “In fighting on the
borders of a forest fortified in all its approaches, as well as
by its own impenetrability, the Duke had every pledge of victory,
if victory was possible; and of a secure retreat if defeat were
unavoidable. Waterloo was an admirable field of battle, and it is
to be regretted that Napoleon has not acknowledged this, but has
obstinately striven to prove that his conqueror was unworthy of
him. These are the littlenesses of glory. The choice of Waterloo
on Wellington’s part was a further mark of that genius, at once
resolute, powerful, and prudent, which has characterized all the
campaigns of this General.”

It should be added, that the Duke, during five years of constant
warfare with the French armies, had never once been beaten by them
in a pitched battle. Nor had he any thought of retreating upon the
present occasion, or any desire to make a special provision for
such an emergency. In after years he dropped the remark: “I knew
that they could never so beat us, but that we could have made good
the forest against them.”

And now the several divisions of the two armies were placed in the
positions which to the two commanders seemed suitable. On the left
of Napoleon’s line he placed his second corps, which he himself
states to have consisted of 17,000 men, and which undoubtedly
was nearer 20,000. This corps, to which his brother Jerome was
attached, was ordered to seize upon Hougoumont, and then to attack
the right of the British army. Napoleon’s right wing was formed
of his first corps, under Ney’s command. This corps had not yet
been in action, and was complete. Napoleon sets down its strength
us 17,900 men; but Ney, who commanded it, describes it as “from
twenty-five to thirty thousand.” In the second line stood the
sixth corps, consisting of 7 or 8000 men; the heavy cavalry, of
about 7000; and in a third line stood the Imperial Guard, which, of
cavalry and infantry, had at least 18,000. The artillery numbered
more than 6000 men, with 240 cannon. The entire force was probably
described with truth in Napoleon’s bulletin of the battle, in which
he calls it “less than 95,000.”

Against these the Duke had to place in position, on the opposite
heights, his 15,181 British infantry, his 3,300 infantry of
the German Legion, and about 28,000 Belgians, Hanoverians, and
Brunswickers. Many of these showed themselves, in the battle,
unable to stand a French attack. In the second line he had 7,840
English and German cavalry, and about 4,500 Belgians, Hanoverians,
and Brunswickers. His artillery (English, Belgian, &c.,) were
5,600 and his guns, 156. At Hal and Enghien, on the road from Mons
to Brussels, the Duke placed a detachment of 5,819 men to guard
against any possible device in that quarter. These could take no
part in the battle, being fixed by their orders at a distance of
several miles from it.

The Duke had slept for a few hours at his headquarters in the
village of Waterloo, and then rising before dawn on the morning
of the 18th he wrote several letters, in which he expressed his
confidence that all would go well, but still gave specific orders
for all that was to be done in Brussels, Antwerp, &c., in the
event of the success of the French attack. He then saw to the
distribution of the reserves of artillery, which had been packed in
the village, so that supplies should be readily forwarded to every
point where they might be needed. He also personally inspected the
arrangements made for the reception of the wounded. Then mounting
his horse Copenhagen, he rode to Hougoumont, and thence down a lane
leading through the wood beyond it. Halting on the eastern slant of
the thicket, he narrowly surveyed all of the enemy’s arrangements
that could be seen. Then giving some final orders at Hougoumont,
he galloped back to the high ground in the right centre of his
position, where he began to chat with the members of his staff
with as much liveliness as if they were about to take part in an
ordinary review.

There was now a pause of considerable duration. This was one of
the chief mistakes committed by Napoleon. He had before him, as he
well know, an army exceedingly inferior to his own; so inferior,
in short, that it was a matter of joyful surprise to him that the
Duke had not decamped in the night. But on his right he knew that
there was Grouchy with less than 40,000 men, opposed to Blucher,
who had 80,000 or 90,000. It was obvious to every one that the
Prussian general might, and probably would, engage Grouchy with
one or two corps, and carry the rest of his army to the succour of
the English. It was, then, a great error not to use the present
opportunity with decision and rapidity. He accounts for the
delay by the state of the ground; but when Grouchy justified his
inertness at Wavre by the same plea, Napoleon exclaims, in “Book
ix,” p. 153, “The dreadful state of the weather, ridiculous motive!”

The village clock was striking eleven when the first gun was fired
from the French centre, and this great battle began, which only
ended with the darkness of night. There has never been a battle
which was so distinctly divided, like a drama, into four or five
acts. These were: 1. The attack on Hougoumont and the English
right; 2. The attack on La Haye Sainte and the English centre and
left; 3. The irruption of the French heavy cavalry upon the centre
of the English position; 4. The Prussian diversion; 5. The charge
of the Imperial Guard, and final defeat of the French army. These
several acts or stages in this great contest usually followed each
other at intervals of about two hours, _i.e._ at 11, at 1, at 3, at
5, and at 7 o’clock. There cannot, therefore, be a better way of
obtaining a clear idea of the progress of this tremendous struggle,
than by passing in review these five acts or stages, just us they
occurred, and distinctly from each other.

  ELEVEN O’CLOCK.

Precisely at this hour the French artillery opened fire upon the
orchards of Hougoumont, and Jerome, with his division, moved
forward to the attack. As we have seen, Napoleon himself assigns
to his second corps, to whom this duty was assigned, a strength of
17,900 men; and, reasoning upon his uniform practice of diminishing
his real numbers, we may safely estimate its real force at 20,000.
This corps was to storm and take Hougoumont, and then, from this
position, to annoy and perhaps to attack with success, the Duke’s
right. But it never succeeded even in its first object. The whole
power of these 18,000 or 20,000 men failed to carry a post which
was never garrisoned by so many us 2,800. Thus, Gourgaud tells us
that at noon “Prince Jerome with his division took possession of
the wood: he was driven out, but a new attack once more rendered
him master of it. The enemy, however, kept possession of the largo
house in the centre.” Again, at half-past four, he says, “General
Reille supported the attack of Jerome’s division by Foy’s division.
(Each being 5,000 or 6,000 strong.) Howitzers had set fire to the
house and nearly destroyed it; three-fourths of the wood was in our
possession; the fields were strewed with the English guards, the
flower of the enemy’s army.” But beyond this partial success the
French never attained. They never carried the chateau itself, but
in the attempt they lost from 6,000 to 8,000 men, while the killed
and wounded of the defenders amounted to a few hundreds only. This
portion of the battle lasted from noon until night, and all that
the French could boast of, was, that with five or seven times the
number of the British, they obtained possession of “three-fourths
of the wood.”[27] Napoleon says, in “Book ix,” “The wood remained
in the possession of the French; but the chateau, in which some
hundreds of intrepid English troops defended themselves, opposed an
invincible resistance.”[28]

  ONE O’CLOCK.

But now, having commenced the battle by this vehement assault on
Hougoumont by his left wing, Napoleon prepared what he admits to be
his main attack, on the Duke’s centre and left, by Count d’Erlon’s
whole corps, led by Marshal Ney. This was the corps which had not
been engaged at either Ligny or Quatre Bras. Napoleon states its
strength at 17,900; but Ney more frankly describes it us between
“twenty-five and thirty thousand.” This force was directed against
the centre of the English position. Throughout the day Napoleon
seemed to rely on _mere strength_. He knew that he was superior
on every point, in each branch of the service, and in every
particular, and he had never experienced the obstinate endurance of
the English infantry. Thus, as the Duke afterwards said, “He did
not manœuvre at all. He just moved forward, in the old style, in
columns, and was driven off in the old style.”

Great were the expectations based on this attack. Napoleon himself
said to Ney: “This is a day and an action worthy of you: I give
you the command of the centre; and it is you who are to gain the
battle.”[29] But while all the French accounts admit the vast
importance which was attached to this, the main attack, they
entirely forget to say _what was the result of it_. Thus Gourgaud
writes: “The Emperor directed Marshal Ney to commence the attack,
and to take possession of La Haye Sainte;” “Our infantry advanced;”
“The enemy’s line, however, made no manœuvre; it maintained its
immobility. His cavalry made several successful charges on the
flank of one of the columns of the first corps, and about 15 of our
pieces of artillery, which were advancing, were driven back into
a hollow road. One of Milhaud’s brigades of Cuirassiers advanced
against this cavalry, and the field of battle was soon covered
with their slain. When the Emperor perceived that some disorder
prevailed on our right, he proceeded at full gallop.”[30]

Napoleon says, in “Book ix,” “Many charges of infantry and cavalry
followed it; the detail of them belong more to the history of each
regiment, than to the general history of the battle; it is enough
to say, that after three hours’ fighting, the farm of La Haye
Sainte was occupied by the French infantry; while the end which the
Emperor had in view was obtained.”[31]

Thus, from the French accounts, we gain no intelligible information
as to the actual result of this attack of 25,000 men on the English
centre; except, indeed, that Gourgaud’s single phrase, “the enemy’s
line maintained its immobility,” tacitly implies that the attack
failed. We turn, then, to the English narrators, and learn from
them what actually occurred.

“Seventy-four guns” (“Book ix,” says eighty) were ordered forward
to a little elevation, so as to bring their fire to bear upon the
English line at a range of about 700 yards. Soon after, as two
o’clock approached, the columns of attack, under Ney’s command,
were seen descending from their elevated ground, crossing the
valley, and ascending the northern slope. The British artillery
gave them a warm reception; but still the columns pressed on, until
they approached the Duke’s line, near the centre and left centre.
Here were placed the brigade of Sir Thomas Picton, about 3000
strong; and a Belgic-Dutch brigade under Bylandt. As the French
columns drew near, with shouts of “Vive l’Empereur!” the courage
of the Belgians gave way, and the whole brigade, amidst the groans
and hooting of the British soldiers, begun a hasty movement to the
rear, from which they could not be induced to advance during the
whole remainder of the day.

Left thus to himself, to sustain the whole attack of twice or three
times his numbers, the gallant Picton never hesitated. Forming
his little band two deep, he waited till the French column came
within charging distance. It then halted, and endeavoured to deploy
into line. Saluting it, at this moment, with a volley from his
whole brigade, Picton gave the word “Charge!” and his men sprang
forward with the bayonet. In an instant the whole French column
was in confusion; and before they had time to recover themselves,
Ponsonby’s brigade of heavy cavalry, the Royals, the Scots Greys,
and the Enniskilleners, broke in upon them, and in a few moments
the whole side of the hill was covered with fugitives. The heroic
leader of “the fighting division,” however, the gallant Picton,
fell, shot through the brain in the moment of triumph. Another
fierce encounter was at hand. Milhaud’s Cuirassiers were close
behind the French columns, and they essayed to retrieve the
fight. But the Household Brigade met them, and after a desperate
encounter--of the best horsemen in England and the best in
France--the whole mass of the French, horse and foot, were driven
back in confusion, leaving behind them the eagles of the 45th and
105th regiments, and nearly 3000 prisoners. The grand attack of
Ney on the British centre had failed; and the first corps of the
French army was so seriously cut up and disorganized, as to be in
no condition to renew the attack. We now understand Gourgaud’s
confessions, “The enemy’s cavalry made several successful charges
on the flank of one of the columns of the first corps;” and, “when
the Emperor perceived that some disorder prevailed on our right, he
proceeded thither at full gallop.”

It was now considerably past two o’clock. The principal attack had
been repelled: the English position had not been forced, or even
endangered. “The enemy’s line,” says Gourgaud, “maintained its
immobility.” But Napoleon’s second corps had been beaten and much
damaged at Hougoumont; and now his first was crippled and nearly
disabled in front of La Haye Sainte. In this strait, either Ney
or Napoleon, or both of them, still confident in their superior
strength, had recourse to a desperate measure, which had, indeed,
a probability of success; but which, if it failed, would involve a
serious danger.

They had, still untouched, or nearly so, a reserve of what Napoleon
himself styles, “twelve thousand select horse,” the two corps
of Cuirassiers, the light cavalry of the Guard, and the horse
grenadiers and dragoons of the Guard. There need be no dispute as
to the strength of this force, since Napoleon himself twice states
it to have been 12,000.

  THREE O’CLOCK.

At this period of the battle, then, desperate at the two failures
on the left and on the right, either Ney or his master launched
this enormous mass of “select cavalry” against the centre of the
British line. The error, if it is one, is sought by Napoleon to be
charged on somebody else. In his bulletin, written at the time, he
says:--

“Our two divisions of cuirassiers being engaged, all our cavalry
ran at the same moment to support their comrades.”

Gourgaud endeavours to cast the blame upon Ney, saying:--

“Marshal Ney, borne away by excess of ardour, lost sight of the
orders he had received; he debouched on the level height, which was
immediately crowned by two divisions of Milhaud’s cuirassiers, and
the light cavalry of the Guard. The emperor observed to Marshal
Soult, “This is a premature movement, which may be attended with
fatal consequences.”

These accounts would represent Napoleon himself famous for his
rapidity and decision, to have had no command over his own troops.
They are, therefore, not credible.

But remembering that Napoleon was himself at this moment in a
forward position, and that the heavy cavalry placed in the rear
as a reserve force must have defiled past him, we must at least
believe him to have permitted this movement. Gourgaud says that
Ney ordered forward Milhaud’s Cuirassiers, and that “the emperor
ordered Kellerman’s corps to support him.” Colonel Heymes,
aide-de-camp to Ney, says, “That movement took place under the eyes
of the emperor, who might have stopped it, but did not.” Still
as he afterwards, in private conversation, charged the fault on
Ney,[32] we must suppose that the marshal, in his desperation,
called for the reserve of cavalry, and that Napoleon permitted
him to employ them. However this might be, it is certain that
about three or four o’clock--the attack of the first corps on the
centre and left of the English having failed, the whole mass of
the “cavalry of reserve,” was brought forward and thrown upon the
centre of the Duke’s position. Such an assault has rarely been
made upon any other army in modern times. Deducting the troops in
Hougoumont, and the losses from four hours’ fighting, there could
not have been at this moment so many as 12,000 British infantry
in the whole line. Yet it is from Napoleon’s own narrative that
we learn, that upon this weak array there was launched a mass of
12,000 heavy horse, 6,000 of whom wore armour, and who seemed,
in their united strength, able positively to ride down the
insignificant force of resolute soldiers who still kept the heights
of Mont St. Jean.

The British accounts generally divide this tremendous onset of
the cavalry into two attacks, the first, between three and four
o’clock, when forty squadrons, twenty-one of them being composed of
cuirassiers, ascended the heights behind La Haye Sainte; the second
perhaps an hour later, when the first assailants, having found it
difficult to maintain their ground were rallied behind thirty-seven
fresh squadrons sent by Napoleon to their succour. And this agrees
with Gourgaud’s account who tells us, first, that “Ney debouched
upon the level height, with Milhaud’s Cuirassiers and the light
cavalry of the Guard,” and then adds, a little after, that “the
Emperor directed Kellerman’s Cuirassiers to support the cavalry on
the height lest it should be repulsed.” It is clear, therefore,
that the first onset of 5,000 or 6,000 men had failed, or was in
danger of failing, when Napoleon sent forward a second until, as
he himself says, the whole “twelve thousand select horse” were
involved in the struggle.

How it was that this tremendous attack failed, it is not easy at
this distance of time to understand. The whole of the infantry in
the British line were quickly formed into squares; the front ranks
kneeling and presenting fixed bayonets, and the second and third
lines keeping up a constant fire of musketry. The artillery, also,
saluted the intruders with grape-shot; but many of the British guns
were soon taken possession of by the cuirassiers. The Duke, always
prepared for every emergency, had instructed the artillerymen that
they should, on the approach of danger, take off a wheel and retire
with it into the nearest square of infantry. Thus the cuirassiers,
when they had seized a gun, found themselves hampered with it, and
while they were trying to carry it off, the musketry of the British
squares thinned their numbers.

Wellington, in describing the battle in a letter to Marshal
Beresford, said, “I had the infantry for some time in squares, and
the French cavalry walking about us as if it had been our own.”

There probably never was such a trial of “pluck” as this part of
the contest presented. It was a hand-to-hand struggle, _lasting
two or three hours_. Had a regiment of cuirassiers ever found
courage enough to throw themselves on the British bayonets, there
can be little doubt that some of the weaker squares might have
been broken. But this never once occurred. Gourgaud, indeed, says,
“Our cavalry penetrated many of the enemy’s squares, and took
three standards,” but he must here be speaking of the Belgian or
Hanoverian troops, many of whom were unsteady, and some of whom
were scattered and cut up. There was, in fact, no absolute reliance
to be placed on any but the British troops, and some of the best
of the German. A whole Dutch-Belgian brigade, on the approach of
the cuirassiers, moved off without firing a shot. After several
charges of the British horse upon portions of the French cavalry,
Lord Uxbridge put himself at the head of Tripp’s brigade of
Dutch-Belgian carabineers, and ordered them to charge; and so they
did, but not until they had first turned their backs to the enemy!
Somewhat later, he ordered forward the Hanoverian regiment called
the Cumberland hussars; but the colonel “did not see what good was
to be done” by moving him from his snug position, which was out of
reach of the firing. He added, that he could not answer for his
men, for that they rode their own horses, and could not afford to
lose them! Receiving from Lord Uxbridge the vehement reproof which
might have been expected, he and his men moved off to Brussels,
where they spread the report that the allied army was destroyed,
and that Napoleon was advancing at the head of his Guards!

Yet this tremendous attack failed, as the two preceding attacks
had done. And its failure was one chief cause of Napoleon’s ruin.
He had risked his cavalry reserve, and had lost it. For it is a
remarkable and wonderful fact, that, continuing this struggle
for two or three hours, this splendid body of “twelve thousand
select cavalry” was wholly destroyed. Individuals, and parties of
fugitives, doubtless escaped, and their number in the aggregate
might be considerable; but this arm of the service was utterly
disabled. In his Bulletin, Napoleon said, “For three hours numerous
charges were made, several squares penetrated, and six standards
taken;--an advantage bearing no proportion to the loss which our
cavalry experienced by the grape-shot and musket-firing.” Fleury
de Chaboulon, his secretary, says, “Our cavalry, exposed to the
incessant firing of the enemy’s batteries and infantry, sustained
and executed numerous brilliant charges, took six flags, and
dismounted several batteries; but in this conflict we lost the
flower of our intrepid cuirassiers, and of the cavalry of the
Guard.” He adds, that on reaching Paris, and describing the
battle, the emperor said, “Ney behaved like a madman!--he got my
cavalry _massacred_ for me.” And it is the chief complaint of all
the French accounts, that when at the close of the day the English
horse swept over the field, the Emperor had not a single regiment
of cavalry to oppose to them![33] The “twelve thousand select
cavalry” had broken into the English position; but, except as
scattered fugitives, they never returned!

  FIVE O’CLOCK.

But the battle had now lasted six hours, and Napoleon had allowed
his opportunity to pass away. Five o’clock brought the Prussians;
and after they had entered the field a decisive victory for
Napoleon became impossible.

Bent on his object of proving that he had been not so much beaten
as overpowered by numbers, Napoleon in his “Book ix,” brings the
Prussians into the field at _noon-day_! In doing this he does not
scruple to employ the most direct and obvious falsehood. To give a
single instance,--Gourgaud, his _aide-de-camp_, in his account of
the battle, thus writes:

“It was _half-past four o’clock_, and the most vigorous fire was
still kept up on every side. _At this moment_ General Domont
informed his Majesty that he observed Bulow’s corps in movement,
and that a division of 8,000 or 10,000 Prussians was debouching
from the woods of Frischenois.”

Yet in “Book ix” Napoleon does not hesitate to say: At _two
o’clock_ in the afternoon General Domont had given notice that
Bulow formed in three columns; that the enemy appeared to him to be
very numerous,--he estimated the corps at 40,000 men.”

But he does not even postpone their arrival until two o’clock:--two
pages earlier he insists upon it that he saw them, in the distance,
at _noon_.[34] Now as it is absolutely certain that, with the
greatest exertion, the earliest of the Prussian brigades were
unable to reach the field until half-past four, we may be sure
that at twelve o’clock they must have been eight or ten miles off!
Hence this passage in “Book ix” must either be a downright fiction;
or else Napoleon must have discovered on a distant hill a party of
the Prussian staff who had ridden forward to observe the position
of affairs, and who must have been magnified by his alarms into an
army-corps!

The real time of the arrival of the Prussians is one of the most
clearly-defined facts of the whole history. All the witnesses agree
upon it. We have just cited Gourgaud’s words, that “at half-past
four General Domont observed a division of 8,000 to 10,000
Prussians debouching from the woods of Frischenois.”

In strict agreement with which the Prussian official account says.

“It was half-past four o’clock.... The difficulties of the road
had retarded the march of the Prussian columns; so that only two
brigades had arrived at the covered position which was assigned
them. The generals resolved to begin the attack with the troops
which they had at hand.”[35]

And General Drouet, who was at Napoleon’s side during the action,
said, in his speech in the Chamber of Peers on the 24th of June,
1815,--“The Prussians began to attack us at about half-past five in
the afternoon.”

It is quite clear, then, and beyond all dispute, that the Prussians
first began to enter the field of battle, and to be visible to
the French at half-past four in the afternoon; that the Prussian
commanders immediately proceeded to make arrangements for an
attack;--and that their first collision with the French troops took
place about half-past five in the afternoon.

But Napoleon had been forewarned of their approach; for his flying
parties had brought in, he tells us, two or three hours before, a
Prussian hussar who was bearing a letter to the Duke of Wellington,
announcing that General Bulow and his corps were on their march.
Hence Napoleon had already set apart his sixth corps, under Count
Lobau, to receive the Prussians whenever they should make their
appearance.

He introduces at this period many complaints of Marshal Grouchy,
who, he pretends, ought to have followed Bulow’s corps, and have
taken part in the battle of Waterloo. This is the very height of
injustice and absurdity; since he had employed Grouchy distinctly
to follow and occupy the attention of the main body of the
Prussian army; and in obedience to this command the marshal was at
that moment engaged with the Prussian third corps at Wavre. But,
on looking at Napoleon’s first bulletin of the battle, we see that
this aspersion of Grouchy is an afterthought,--a mere device to
lessen his own defeat. Writing at the time, and giving to France a
full account of the battle, in that bulletin _not one word_ of any
default of Grouchy’s appears.

This, of itself, is enough to show the hollowness of the excuse for
the loss of the battle. Grouchy himself, when the “ixth Book” made
its appearance, instantly wrote and published an indignant denial
of its statements; and Brialmont remarks, that “Napoleon has so
expressed himself to make it clear that he was anxious to diminish
the amount of his own responsibility by sacrificing the reputation
of his subordinates. Thus he pretends that he received on the night
of the 17th a letter from Grouchy, which letter _never could have
existed_.”

But Gourgaud himself, Napoleon’s own aide-de-camp, is the best
witness in exculpation of Grouchy. He tells us, that in the
afternoon, hearing the cannonade of Waterloo, General Excelmans
urged upon Grouchy to leave following the Prussians and to march
towards the cannonade. But Grouchy, “though he burnt with desire to
take part in the great battle, _showed Excelmans his instructions_,
which were to march upon Wavre, and said, that he could not take
such a responsibility on himself.”[36] It is clear therefore, that
up to the afternoon of the 18th Grouchy had no other orders than
those which bade him follow the Prussians who were in position at
Wavre.

Grouchy then, was not at Waterloo, simply because Napoleon had sent
him to Wavre, a town some twelve miles distant; and because he was
there engaged in a struggle with the third Prussian corps. But the
fourth Prussian corps was at Waterloo at five o’clock, because
Blucher had promised to send it there, and because Wellington
expected it; and gave battle with inferior forces, relying on
this assistance. Napoleon ought to have foreseen the probability
of all this,--and, foreseeing it, he ought to have delivered his
blows more rapidly so as to break the English line, if that were
possible, before the Prussians could enter the field. But now
that he had allowed his opportunity to pass, and now that Bulow
was actually beginning to take part in the battle,--what was the
respective strength ranged on either side? This question must
be answered; for Napoleon says, “The enemy’s army had just been
augmented by 30,000 men, already ranged on the held of battle; thus
placing 120,000 men against 69,000, or two to one.” (p. 148.) And
then he immediately afterwards, adds “It was _noon_.”

This statement, however, like most of Napoleon’s other statements,
is untrue. The Duke’s army had never amounted to 70,000 men, of
whom some 10 or 15,000 were merely nominal combatants, whom it was
impossible to persuade to fight. And Napoleon wilfully overlooks
the plain averment of the Prussian official account, that when
their commanders began the attack,--not at _noon_, but some time
after half-past four, _only two brigades_, had arrived on the
field. Captain Siborne, who took the greatest pains to ascertain
every fact of the case, states that at half-past four o’clock the
Prussian force which had come up, amounted to 16,000 men; which,
added to the Duke’s army of 68,000, made a joint force of about
84,000; but, if the non-fighting part of the Duke’s army were
deducted,--of scarcely 70,000. Thus, even with the addition of the
newly-arrived Prussians, the allied force was still numerically
weaker than Napoleon’s army.

This diversion, however, which was caused so opportunely by Bulow’s
arrival, naturally brought great relief to the British line. It
drew off Count Lobau’s corps, the sixth, of 7000 men, which might
otherwise have been sent forward to attack the British centre. The
remark, however, which is sometimes made, that “the English were
saved by arrival of the Prussians,” is singularly absurd. Bulow’s
arrival was not an unexpected thing; or a lucky chance;--it was
a part of the Duke’s plan. He had demanded this aid of Blucher,
and had obtained the promise of it, and without this aid, his
acceptance of battle would have been an act of great temerity. The
arrival of the Prussians, so far from being unexpected, had been
calculated on three hours earlier; Blucher having promised that
they should be in the field by two o’clock.

And sorely had they been needed. The “thin red line” of the British
infantry had scarcely ever found it so difficult to maintain its
ground. At this moment, as we have already remarked, there could
not have been so many as 12,000 of this branch of the Duke’s army
left in position. And yet upon them rested the whole burden of the
battle. Some of the German troops behaved gallantly; but of the
mixed mass of 25,000 Belgians, Hanoverians, Dutchmen, &c., a large
proportion were unable to stand the French attacks. So soon as
one of Napoleon’s columns approached them, they became unsteady,
and often went to the rear. Meanwhile there still stood in front
of the Duke’s right wing, the second corps; and in front of his
left wing, the first corps; and all that were left of Napoleon’s
“12,000 select cavalry” were riding about the British position, as
if they were masters of it. This hour, then, or two hours, from
five o’clock till seven, must have been a most anxious one for the
British General and his troops. The commander of one brigade sent
to the Duke to beg for some relief or reinforcement; and the answer
he received was, “Tell him, that what he wishes is impossible. He,
and I, and every man here, must fight till we die on the spot where
we stand.” Some one asked for a general instruction, as to what
plan should be followed if the Duke himself should fall. “My only
plan,” said the Duke, “is to stand my ground here to the last man.”
Long after the battle, he remarked, of this period of the day, “I
looked oftener at my watch than at anything else. I knew that if
my troops could keep their position till night, I must be joined
by Blucher before morning; and we should not have left Bonaparte
an army next day. But I was glad, as one hour of day-light slipped
away after another, and our position was still maintained.” It is
scarcely possible for words to imply more distinctly, that the
Duke felt that he was standing his ground with an inferior force;
relying on Blucher’s aid, to enable him to strike a blow in return.

Meanwhile, as he was constantly calm, so he was ever hopeful and
high-minded. An Italian officer in the French service, being taken
prisoner afterwards described the dismay he felt, on observing
the quietness of the Duke’s demeanour, and the calmness of his
countenance; which forced him to think that he must have some
concealed reserve, of which the French generals knew nothing. His
brief remarks, too, were always cheerful and reassuring. A young
Piedmontese officer made himself useful, in carrying orders. “Were
you ever in a battle before?” asked the Duke. “No, my lord.” “Then
you are a lucky fellow, for you will never see such another!” was
the rejoinder. At another time, encouraging the 95th regiment,
expecting a charge of cavalry, he said, “Stand fast! 95th, we
musn’t be beat; what would they say in England!” Shortly after,
when the French cavalry came on with threatening aspect, he said,
“Never mind, we’ll win this battle yet!” To a regiment exposed to a
brisk cannonade, he remarked, “Hard pounding this! let’s see who’ll
pound longest!” Often he was evidently the object of the enemy’s
aim, and a tree under which he sometimes took his stand, was
repeatedly struck. “That’s good practice,” said the Duke; “I think
they fire better than in Spain.” But, as we have said, he was ever
high-minded; and when an officer of artillery came to the Duke to
tell him, that he had a clear view of Napoleon, and had several
guns pointed in that direction, the Duke exclaimed, “No! I’ll not
allow it. It is not the business of commanders to be firing upon
one another!”

At half-past five, according to Count Drouet, the Prussians first
came into collision with the sixth corps, which, with Domont’s
cavalry, had been placed on Napoleon’s right wing, specially to
give these new comers a warm reception. The contest soon became an
earnest one on this side; Planchenoit, in the rear of Napoleon’s
right centre, was taken, and retaken, and he felt obliged to send
some battalions of the Young Guard to strengthen Count Lobau. In
this new struggle an hour or more passed, and seven o’clock, the
last hour of the day drew on.

Here Gourgaud stops to claim a triumph. He says, “65 to 68,000
French troops _had beaten_ 115,000 English, Prussians, &c.” But
then he adds, “The Emperor was of opinion that this was the moment
for making a decisive attack, and _determining the fate of the
day_.” So that, although the English and Prussians are assumed to
be beaten, the “fate of the day” remains “to be determined.”

In fact, not one single step in retreat had the English army yet
taken. About six o’clock, indeed, the farm-house of La Haye Sainte
was abandoned by its English defenders, simply because their
ammunition was expended, and without ammunition they could not
defend the place. This was the one solitary advantage gained by the
French in the whole day; and even this was not wrested by them from
the English; the post was evacuated by the latter for the reason we
have stated. And La Haye Sainte, it should be remembered, was about
200 yards _in advance_ of the British line. It was an outpost,
and not a part of the main line. Its capture at an earlier period
might have seriously endangered the Duke’s centre; but at this late
hour Napoleon had but one card left to play, and in playing it the
possession of La Haye Sainte did not greatly aid him.

Up to seven o’clock, then, this one poor outpost was the only foot
of ground gained by the French, in compensation for what Ney calls
“the most frightful carnage that I have ever witnessed.” He is not
here speaking of the defeat of the Imperial Guard, but of what
preceded it. He had led, at one o’clock, the attack by D’Erlon’s
corps on the centre and left of the English position, and at
three o’clock he had sent the heavy cavalry in among the British
battalions. It is of these two attacks that Ney is speaking,
and of the manner in which they were repulsed; and this veteran
soldier, after witnessing Borodino, Leipsic, and twenty other
fields of slaughter, describes the defeat of the first corps, and
the destruction of the cavalry, as a “carnage” the like of which he
had never before beheld.

“The Emperor,” says Gourgaud, “was now of opinion that the moment
was come for making a decisive attack, and determining the fate of
the day.” Yes, the moment was come; for, if the matter had been
left as it stood, Napoleon’s overthrow on the following morning
would have been made certain. “I knew,” said the Duke, long after,
“that if my troops could keep their position till night, I must
be joined by Blucher before morning, and we should not have left
Bonaparte an army next day.” To keep the English and Prussian
armies apart had been Napoleon’s chief endeavour, but the sagacity
and military talent of the two Generals had defeated this purpose.
The French army had only crossed the frontier on the 15th, and
here, on the 18th, were the two allied armies already uniting on
the same battle-field. When, therefore, Gourgaud tells us, in lofty
and decorous language, that “the Emperor was of opinion that this
was the moment for making a decisive attack, and determining the
fate of the day,” the real meaning of these dignified phrases is,
that Napoleon saw that one chance only remained to him, and that
he must break the British line by the whole force of the Imperial
Guard, or retire from the field a discomfited commander; to sustain
in his turn an attack from the united armies the very next day.
His strongest army-corps, the first and second, had both been cut
up and crippled; his splendid cavalry were at that moment being
“massacred” by the English grapeshot and musket-firing; and the
only weapon of power that remained to him was this noble body of
men, who had triumphed in fifty battles--his invincible phalanx,
the Imperial Guard. At seven o’clock, therefore, or about that
hour, he turned to this, his last resource, and ordered to the
front this chosen and favourite arm, the right employment of which
had given him so many victories.

  SEVEN O’CLOCK.

It is not easy, amidst the various and contradictory accounts of
the different French historians, to ascertain with exactness the
real force employed in this attack. The Young Guard, under General
Duhesme, had been partly employed in the defence of Planchenoit.
The Old Guard, and the Middle Guard, had not up to this period of
the battle drawn a trigger. Their strength is stated by Gourgaud to
have been on this day 4400 and 4200, or, united, 8600 men.[37] This
force far exceeded any strength which the Duke could bring to bear
upon any given point. In fact the two brigades of General Maitland
and General Adam had to sustain this attack. The first, consisting
of two battalions of Foot-guards, had marched forth two days before
1997 strong. On the evening of Waterloo it numbered only 1027; and
doubtless, when this attack of the Imperial Guard came, it had not
more than 1100 or 1150 bayonets. The other, General Adam’s brigade,
consisting of the 52nd, 71st, and 95th regiments, had been 2621
strong, but it was now reduced to about 2000. Such was the force on
either side which was now to engage in the last terrible encounter
of this great contest.

But, while he was preparing for what he hoped would be the
decisive blow, Napoleon sent orders to both his wings to prepare
for a renewed attack, simultaneously, on Hougoumont and on the
British left and centre. The chateau defended itself bravely and
successfully, as it had done throughout the day. But the possession
of La Haye Sainte gave the first corps of the French army great
advantages, and the pressure on the British line at this point
became fearfully severe. A German battalion was cut up by a charge
of French cuirassiers: a body of Brunswick infantry, which the Duke
had moved up to strengthen the line, gave way, and retired about
100 paces, and it required all the Duke’s personal exertions to
bring them to reform and stand their ground. The Prince of Orange
had been wounded, and the Nassau troops under his command were with
great difficulty induced to keep their ground. The British line had
never been in so much danger of being broken as at this moment. But
scarcely an hour of the day now remained, and the contest which was
just taking place on the right centre was to be decisive of the
fate of the day.

The grand attack of the Imperial Guard, to which Napoleon looked
to decide the fate of his empire, was now beginning. Captain
Siborne states the two columns of attack to have consisted of ten
battalions, besides two battalions left as a reserve. If these
battalions consisted of 600 men each, they would amount to 6000;
but if of 720 men each, they would amount, on the whole, to 7200
men, and these were unquestionably the first soldiers in France.

These columns were formed in front of La Belle Alliance, and began
their advance with that kind of mismanagement which had marked many
of the movements of the French leaders throughout the day; they
did not advance simultaneously, but the first column preceded the
second, although the two took different courses. Neither did they
assail that part of the Duke’s line which was the weakest, but
threw themselves upon two brigades of the British infantry.

Of the two columns,--one of which skirted the enclosures of
Hougoumont, and aimed at the right of the British line, while the
other made its onset nearer to the centre,--the latter gained
the precedence. As it descended into the valley, and allowed the
French artillery on the heights behind an opportunity for action,
the whole of these guns opened fire with a rapidity and weight
which had not been experienced before throughout the day. Wherever
a regiment was visible in the British line, there the round-shot
and howitzer shells rained death upon it. But by degrees the
attacking columns passed through the hollow ground, and began
to ascend the opposite heights. Now they became visible to the
British artillery, and the cannon-shot plunged into their masses
with tremendous effect. The horse of Marshal Ney was killed;
General Friant was wounded, and General Michel was killed. On the
fall of the latter, a battalion of grenadiers came to a halt; but
another General succeeded in inspiring it with new courage. The
column moved forward, sorely shaken by its losses; but at last it
crowned the height, and to its astonishment saw nothing before it
but a small battery of field-pieces, and a few mounted officers in
the rear. But one of these was the Duke, and the next moment the
word of command was heard, “Up, Guards, and at them!” The British
Guards, who had been ordered to lie down, sprang to their feet, in
a compact line of four deep, and in a few seconds, a volley was
heard, and then another, and a third; and in the first minute 300
of the attacking column fell. The French officers rushed to the
front, and called upon the men to deploy into line. Lord Saltoun
exclaimed to the English Guards, “Now’s your time, my boys!”--and
the Duke exclaimed, “Charge!” The brigade sprang forward, with a
cheer, to the charge. All was disorder in the French ranks. Many
flung down their arms and knapsacks and dispersed; the mass, in
dire confusion, rushed down the slope, with the English Guards in
full pursuit.

But the English were instantly called back, for now appeared in
sight the second column, which, shrinking from the fire of the
batteries which had so crushed the first, diverged to the right,
and by this mistaken move, presented its flank to General Adam’s
brigade. The brigade of Guards was formed in its front, while the
52nd and 71st regiments were on its flank. The three regiments
poured such a fire into the mass, that it melted like snow in
the sunshine. Soon was repeated the order, “Charge!” and the two
brigades assailing the devoted column at once in its front and on
its flank, swept it from the field. In a few moments the hollow
ground was crowded with fugitives; Napoleon’s last stake was lost;
the battle of Waterloo was, practically, ended.

Of this terrible conflict, Lamartine rapidly sketches the progress,
in a few glowing lines,--a summary of various French narratives:

“These 6000 grenadiers advanced with shouldered arms, amidst cries
of ‘Vive l’Empereur!’ Wellington awaited them with forty pieces of
cannon, with the matches lighted. As they ascended and approached,
the battery fired a volley point-blank into the advancing mass,
which, as the smoke arose, was seen to waver for a moment; then
to close up and advance as compact as ever. On a second discharge
the same oscillation took place, the same closing up. On the third
discharge the English saw the column reduced to a block of men,
decimated by grape-shot:--two of the battalions had been struck
down, the other two hesitated, and recoiled to seek another means
of access to these impregnable heights. Napoleon turned pale, and
at length doubted of victory.”

This may be said to be the language of a florid writer, depicting
the event long after its occurrence. But Count Drouet, who
witnessed the whole scene, thus described it in the Chamber of
Peers, just six days after the battle:--

“The (first) four battalions of the Guard, when they arrived on
the plateau, were received by the most terrible fire of musquetry
and grape. The _great number of wounded men_ who separate from the
column, cause it to be believed that the Guard is routed. A panic
terror communicates itself to the neighbouring (or second) column,
which precipitately takes flight.”

Count Drouet, witnessing the repulse of both the columns, from
the height behind, might suppose that the dispersal of the second
arose from panic; but in so thinking, he did injustice to his
countrymen. The second column came into action as gallantly us the
first; but, although it was the stronger of the two, it had to
contend with two English brigades instead of one; and its chance
of success was therefore proportionally smaller. Clearly, it was
bad generalship to send the two columns, one after the other, to
be beaten separately. Had they reached the British position at
the same moment, they would have brought against the two British
brigades a force outnumbering them by two to one. Gourgaud thus
describes the fate of this second column: “The eight battalions
of the Guard which were in the centre, after having withstood for
a long time all the attacks of the enemy, and contended for every
foot of ground, were at last completely disorganized by the mass of
the fugitives, and overwhelmed by the numbers of the enemy.”

With the failure of this, his last attack, Napoleon’s hopes, and
his empire, ended. His fall, when it came at last, proved a crash
which left nothing for destruction to do. At the moment when the
Imperial Guards were sent back in confusion, the Prussians under
Marshal Blucher had come into action. His cavalry had supported the
English left, and two brigades of English cavalry, which guarded
the extreme left of the Duke’s position, had been released from
this duty, and had moved to the support of the British centre.
And now, the Prussian infantry of the first corps, commanded by
General Zieten, rushed upon the villages of La Haye and Smohain,
and instantly carried them at the bayonet’s point. A third column
renewed the attack on Planchenoit, which was almost in the centre
of the French position. The moment was come for a general advance,
and the Duke, with that wonderful perception which distinguished
his whole career, instantly seized it. He himself describes this
critical moment, in the account written the very next day. He
says:--

“Having observed that the troops (Imperial Guard) retired from this
attack in great confusion, and that the march of the Prussians
on Planchenoit had begun to take effect, I determined to attack
the enemy, and immediately advanced the whole line of infantry,
supported by the cavalry and artillery.”

An eye-witness thus described the scene at the time, “The Duke, who
had been attentively observing what was passing in the French and
Prussian armies, suddenly shut up his telescope, and exclaimed to
the officers near him, ‘Now, every man must advance!’”

Long had this order been eagerly expected. The British troops
had stood for more than eight hours under a terrible fire. They
had seen more than one-fourth of their numbers struck down by
cannon-shot, and they longed for one final struggle, which should
end the whole contest. The order flew to the right and to the left,
and loud were the shouts with which it was received. Everywhere the
lines of infantry were formed, the cavalry mounted and rode on, and
a scene of triumph and exultation commenced, of which none who
witnessed it could ever lose the memory.

We have observed, a few sentences back, that only half an hour
before, two brigades of light cavalry, Vivian’s and Vandeleur’s,
had been moved from the extreme left of the English line, and
brought nearer to the centre. These six regiments, numbering
about 2000 sabres, were now of the greatest possible service, in
driving before them the broken and scattered French. They charged
and dispersed various bodies of cavalry which attempted to form
and make a stand, and continued pressing upon the fugitives of
the infantry till the whole mass of Napoleon’s army melted into
a chaotic crowd. And now were seen, on all sides, “unfurled
colours raised aloft, bands striking up, the soldiers cheering
tumultuously, as, with one simultaneous movement, they quitted the
height on which they had so long stood, and descended joyfully into
the plain, over which the French, on all sides, were now retreating
in disorder.”

Their great commander himself was naturally among the foremost in
this magnificent advance. Napier says, “The Duke, who was stationed
on the left of the guns and the right of the Guards, gave the order
to advance, and like lightning rode to the rear, and brought up the
light cavalry, cheering them on, with his hat off--his cheers most
cordially echoed by my brave fellows and myself.” He rode in front
of Adam’s brigade, cheering it forward, speaking joyously to the
men, and receiving their hearty shouts of congratulation. At last
one of his staff ventured to hint to him that they were getting
into the enemy’s lines, and that his life ought not to be thrown
away. “Never mind,” was the reply, “the battle’s won, and my life
is of no consequence now.”

Down the slope of their own heights, across the valley, up the
face of the enemy’s hill, marched the British line triumphantly.
Here and there a remnant of a French battalion or squadron offered
a brief resistance; but the cry of “_Sauve qui peut!_” had been
heard, and the French knew that the battle was lost, and that the
Prussians were already in their rear. Hence Fleury de Chaboulon,
Napoleon’s own secretary, thus describes the close:--

“Wellington did not allow our grenadiers time to recollect
themselves. He caused them to be attacked in flank by his cavalry,
and compelled them to retire in the greatest disorder. At the
same moment the Prussians carried the village of La Haye; and our
cavalry, our infantry, already staggered by the defeat of the
Guard, were afraid of being cut off, and precipitately retreated.
The other troops of the right, seeing some of our squadrons
pell-mell, and some of the Guards running away, thought all
was lost, and quitted their position. This contagious movement
was communicated in an instant to the left, and the whole army
abandoned its strongest posts as eagerly as they had previously
assailed them. Soon the whole army was nothing but a confused
crowd, which the English and Prussians routed without effort, and
massacred without pity.”[38]

“Napoleon,” says Lamartine, “saw that army which a few hours
before was his only hope, now returning in broken fragments,
and exclaimed, ‘All is lost!’ For a moment he contemplated the
disastrous scene, turned pale, stammered, and shed some tears, the
first he had ever shed upon a field of battle.”

On marched the English, seized at every step the artillery which
had so long poured its iron hail upon them, and driving before them
the crowds of dismayed and disordered French. Up the heights on
which Napoleon and his army had stood, they now exultingly pressed,
and here the two Generals met, with mutual congratulations.
Marshal Blucher had well performed his part, though the state of
the roads had hindered his arrival until the very close of the
battle. In less than an hour he had driven in the whole right wing
of the French army, and now reached the very centre of Napoleon’s
position, at the same moment when the Duke had penetrated to the
same point with his attack in front. After a few moments of hearty
rejoicing, the English commander gladly resigned to the Prussian,
the remaining duty of a vigorous pursuit. The British troops, after
a long day’s work, were physically unable to chase their enemies
far. The Prussian General, therefore, to quote their own accounts,
assembled his officers, and gave orders to send the last horse and
the last man in pursuit of the enemy.”

Well and earnestly was this duty performed. All night long were the
wretched French pursued. Nine times did they attempt to halt for
rest, and nine times was the Prussian drum heard, and the flight
was again to be resumed. A French officer[39] thus describes the
scene:--

“Near one of the hedges of Hougoumont, without even a drummer to
beat the rappel, we succeeded in rallying 300 men; these were
nearly all that remained of our splendid division. Thither came
also a band of Generals. Here was Reille,[40] D’Erlon, Bachelor,
Foy, and others. All were gloomy and sorrowful. They said,
one to another, ‘Here is all that is left of my corps,--of my
division,--of my brigade!--I myself!’

“The enemy’s horse approached, and we were obliged to retreat. The
movements of the English cavalry had demoralized our soldiers,
who, seeing all regular retreat cut off, strove each man to save
himself. Infantry, cavalry, artillery, all jammed together, were
pressing along pell-mell. Figure to yourself 40,000 men all
struggling along a single causeway. We could not take that way, so
we struck across the fields. We were humiliated, we were hopeless;
we walked like a troop of mourners.

“We passed through Thuin, and finding a little copse, we gladly
sought its shelter. While our horses grazed, we lay down and slept.
We rested in the little copse till noon, and sat watching the
wrecks of our army defile along the road. It was a soul-harrowing
sight!

“We drew near to Beaumont, when suddenly a regiment of horse
was seen debouching from a wood on our left. The column that we
followed cried out, ‘The Prussians! the Prussians!’ and hurried off
in utter disorder.

“I was trying to return to General Foy, when another horde of
fugitives burst into Beaumont, swept me into the current of their
flight, and hurried me out of the town with them. I reached
Landrecy, though I know not how or when.”

Such is the description given by one of the fugitives, and it
exactly corresponds with the official report of the Prussian
General, Gneisenau, who says, “The French army, pursued without
intermission, was absolutely disorganized. The highway presented
the appearance of an immense shipwreck; it was covered with an
innumerable quantity of cannon, caissons, baggage, arms, and goods
of every kind. As soon as the enemy heard the sound of our drums,
they fled, while the moonlight favoured the pursuit, for the whole
march was a continued chase, whether in the corn-fields or in the
houses.”

“At three o’clock Napoleon had despatched a courier to Paris with
the news that victory was certain: a few hours afterwards he had no
longer an army.”

The French accounts, Gourgaud’s, Napoleon’s, &c., written long
after, endeavour to diminish the defeat by representing that within
a week as many us 60 or 65,000 men were re-assembled at Laon. Some
one attempted to make a representation of this sort in the French
Chamber of Peers, on the 24th of June; when Marshal Ney rose in his
place, and declared all such accounts to be deceptive. “It is a
mere illusion to suppose that 60,000 men can be collected. Marshal
Grouchy,” said he, “cannot have more than 20,000, or 25,000 at the
most.”

Fortunately, however, the question is set at rest by Fleury de
Chaboulon, Napoleon’s secretary, who describes very vividly what
followed immediately after the battle. He tells us, how, in his
flight, on meeting Maret, “the Emperor could not repress his
emotion; a large tear, escaping from his eyes, betrayed the efforts
of his soul.” Again he says, “The Emperor stopped beyond Rocroi to
take some refreshment. We were all in a pitiable state: our eyes
swelled with tears, our countenances haggard, our clothes covered
with dust or blood.” And, on arriving at Paris, when one of his
ministers spoke of the army, Napoleon exclaimed, “_I have no longer
an army!_ I have nothing but fugitives!”[41]

It was this absolute destruction of the French army which made
Waterloo one of the greatest and most important of all victories.
Thus, Jules Maurel, a French historian, says:--

“From a comparison of all the documents, it appears, that Bonaparte
was already beaten when the mass of the Prussian army appeared on
the field; but the arrival of Bulow had powerfully assisted the
British, and the arrival of Blucher changed the defeat into _an
unparalleled disaster_.”

Lamartine, another Frenchman, adds:--

“This defeat left nothing undecided,--nothing for the future to do.
Victory had given judgment: the war began and ended in a single
battle.”

But let us return for a moment to the great victor of the day.
At a road-side house, near Rossomme, he left Blucher, who gladly
undertook the pursuit, and after twelve hours of constant exertion,
he turned his charger’s head once more towards Mont St. Jean and
Waterloo. Darkness now shrouded a thousand scenes of horror, over
which it had been useless to pause. At his quarters the Duke found
assembled the survivors of his staff, the representatives of the
allied powers, and a few other friends. All sorely needed rest
and food, and the meal was ready. On leaving his quarters in the