being stationed near the crest of the ridge of hills already described,
and the other being arranged along the slope in the rear of his
position. Commencing from the eastward, on the extreme left of the first
or main line, were Vivian's and Vandeleur's brigades of light cavalry,
and the fifth Hanoverian brigade of infantry, under Von Vincke. Then
came Best's fourth Hanoverian brigade. Detachments from these bodies of
troops occupied the little villages of Papelotte and La Haye, down the
hollow in advance of the left of the Duke's position. To the right of
Best's Hanoverians, Bylandt's brigade of Dutch and Belgian infantry was
drawn up on the outer slope of the heights. Behind them were the ninth
brigade of British infantry under Pack; and to the right of these last,
but more in advance, stood the eighth brigade of English infantry under
Kempt. These were close to the Charleroi road, and to the centre of the
entire position. These two English brigades, with the fifth Hanoverian,
made up the fifth division, commanded by Sir Thomas Picton. Immediately
to their right, and westward of the Charleroi road, stood the third
division, commanded by General Alten, and consisting of Ompteda's
brigade of the King's German legion, and Kielmansegge's Hanoverian
brigade. The important post of La Haye Sainte, which it will be
remembered lay in front of the Duke's centre, close to the Charleroi
road, was garrisoned with troops from this division. Westward, and on
the right of Kielmansegge's Hanoverians, stood the fifth British brigade
under Halkett; and behind, Kruse's Nassau brigade was posted. On the
right of Halkett's men stood the English Guards. They were in two
brigades, one commanded By Maitland, and the other by Byng. The
entire division was under General Cooke. The buildings and gardens of
Hougoumont, which lay immediately under the height, on which stood
the British Guards, were principally manned by detachments from Byng's
Brigade, aided by some brave Hanoverian riflemen, and accompanied by
a battalion of a Nassau regiment. On a plateau in the rear of Cooks's
division of Guards, and inclining westward towards the village of Merk
Braine, were Clinton's second infantry division, composed of Adams's
third brigade of light infantry, Du Plat's first brigade of the King's
German legion, and third Hanoverian brigade under Colonel Halkett.

The Duke formed his second line of cavalry. This only extended behind
the right and centre of his first line. The largest mass was drawn up
behind the brigades of infantry in the centre, on either side of the
Charleroi road. The brigade of household cavalry under Lord Somerset was
on the immediate right of the road, and on the left of it was Ponsonby's
brigade. Behind these were Trip's and Ghingy's brigades of Dutch and
Belgian horse. The third Hussars of the King's German Legion were to
the right of Somerset's brigade. To the right of these, and behind
Maitland's infantry, stood the third brigade under Dornberg, consisting
of the 23d English Light Dragoons, and the regiments of Light Dragoons
of the King's German Legion. The last cavalry on the right was Grant's
brigade, stationed in the rear of the Foot-Guards. The corps of
Brunswickers, both horse and foot, and the 10th British brigade of foot,
were in reserve behind the centre and right of the entire position. The
artillery was distributed at convenient intervals along the front of
the whole line. Besides the Generals who have been mentioned, Lord Hill,
Lord Uxbridge (who had the general command of the cavalry), the Prince
of Orange, and General Chasse, were present, and acting under the Duke.

[Prince Frederick's force remained at Hal, and took no part in the
battle of the 18th. The reason for this arrangement (which has been much
cavilled at), may be best given in the words of Baron Muffling:--"The
Duke had retired from Quatre Bras in three columns, by three chaussees;
and on the evening of the 17th, Prince Frederick of Orange was at Hal,
Lord Hill at Braine la Leud, and the Prince of Orange with the reserve,
at Mont St. Jean. This distribution was necessary, as Napoleon could
dispose of these three roads for his advance on Brussels. Napoleon on
the 17th had pressed on by Genappe as far as Rossomme. On the two other
roads no enemy had yet shown himself. On the 18th the offensive was
taken by Napoleon on its greatest scale, but still the Nivelles road was
not overstepped by his left wing. These circumstances made it possible
to draw Prince Frederick to the army, which would certainly have
been done if entirely new circumstances had not arisen. The Duke had,
twenty-four hours before, pledged himself to accept a battle at Mont St.
Jean if Blucher would assist him there with one corps, of 25,000 men.
This being promised, the Duke was taking his measures for defence, when
he learned that, in addition to the one corps promised, Blucher was
actually already on the march with his whole force, to break in by
Planchenoit on Napoleon's flank and rear. If three corps of the Prussian
army should penetrate by the unguarded plateau of Rossomme, which was
not improbable, Napoleon would be thrust from his line of retreat by
Genappe, and might possibly lose even that by Nivelles. In this case
Prince Frederick with his 18,000 men (who might be accounted superfluous
at Mont St. Jean), might have rendered the most essential service."--See
Muffling, p. 246 and the QUARTERLY REVIEW, No. 178. It is also worthy of
observation that Napoleon actually detached a force of 2,000 cavalry to
threaten Hal, though they returned to the main French army during the
night of the 17th. See "Victoires at Conquetes des Francais," vol. xxiv.
p 186.]

On the opposite heights the French army was drawn up in two general
lines, with the entire force of the Imperial Guards, cavalry as well as
infantry, in rear of the centre, as a reserve.

The first line of the French army was formed of the two corps commanded
by Count d'Erlon and Count Reille. D'Erlon's corps was on the right,
that is, eastward of the Charleroi road, and consisted of four divisions
of infantry under Generals Durette, Marcognet, Alix, and Donzelot, and
of one division of light cavalry under General Jaquinot. Count Reille's
corps formed the left or western wing, and was formed of Bachelu's,
Foy's, and Jerome Bonaparte's divisions of infantry, and of Pire's
division of cavalry. The right wing of the second general French line
was formed of Milhaud's corps, consisting of two divisions of heavy
cavalry. The left wing of this line was formed by Kellerman's cavalry
corps, also in two divisions. Thus each of the corps of infantry that
composed the first line had a corps of cavalry behind it; but the
second line consisted also of Lobau's corps of infantry, and Domont
and Subervie's divisions of light cavalry; these three bodies of troops
being drawn up on either side of La Belle Alliance, and forming the
centre of the second line. The third, or reserve line, had its centre
composed of the infantry of the Imperial Guard. Two regiments of
grenadiers and two of chasseurs, formed the foot of the Old Guard under
General Friant. The Middle Guard, under Count Morand, was similarly
composed; while two regiments of voltigeurs, and two of tirailleurs,
under Duhesme, constituted the Young Guard. The chasseurs and lancers of
the Guard were on the right of the infantry, under Lefebvre Desnouettes;
and the grenadiers and dragoons of the Guards, under Guyot, were on the
left. All the French corps comprised, besides their cavalry and infantry
regiments, strong batteries of horse artillery; and Napoleon's numerical
superiority in guns was of deep importance throughout the action.

Besides the leading generals who have been mentioned as commanding
particular corps, Ney and Soult were present, and acted as the Emperor's
lieutenants in the battle.

English military critics have highly eulogised the admirable arrangement
which Napoleon made of his forces of each arm, so as to give him the
most ample means of sustaining, by an immediate and sufficient support,
any attack, from whatever point he might direct it; and of drawing
promptly together a strong force, to resist any attack that might be
made on himself in any part of the field. [Siborne, vol. i. p. 376.]
When his troops were all arrayed, he rode along the lines, receiving
everywhere the most enthusiastic cheers from his men, of whose entire
devotion to him his assurance was now doubly sure. On the northern side
of the valley the Duke's army was also drawn up, and ready to meet the
menaced attack.

Wellington had caused, on the preceding night, every brigade and corps
to take up its station on or near the part of the ground which it was
intended to hold in the coming battle. He had slept a few hours at his
headquarters in the village of Waterloo; and rising on the 18th, while
it was yet deep night, he wrote several letters to the Governor of
Antwerp, to the English Minister at Brussels, and other official
personages, in which he expressed his confidence that all would go well,
but "as it was necessary to provide against serious losses; should any
accident occur," he gave a series of judicious orders for what should be
done in the rear of the army, in the event of the battle going against
the Allies. He also, before he left the village of Waterloo, saw to the
distribution of the reserves of ammunition which had been parked there,
so that supplies should be readily forwarded to every part of the line
of battle, where they might be required, The Duke, also, personally
inspected the arrangements that had been made for receiving the wounded,
and providing temporary hospitals in the houses in the rear of the
army. Then, mounting a favourite charger, a small thorough-bred chestnut
horse, named "Copenhagen," Wellington rode forward to the range of hills
where his men were posted. Accompanied by his staff and by the Prussian
General Muffling, he rode along his lines, carefully inspecting all
the details of his position. Hougoumont was the object of his special
attention. He rode down to the south-eastern extremity of its
enclosures, and after having examined the nearest French troops, he made
some changes in the disposition of his own men, who were to defend that
important post.

Having given his final orders about Hougoumont, the Duke galloped back
to the high ground in the right centre of his position; and halting
there, sat watching the enemy on the opposite heights, and conversing
with his staff with that cheerful serenity which was ever his
characteristic in the hour of battle.

Not all brave men are thus gifted; and many a glance of anxious
excitement must have been cast across the valley that separated the two
hosts during the protracted pause which ensued between the completion
of Napoleon's preparations for attack and the actual commencement of
the contest. It was, indeed, an awful calm before the coming storm, when
armed myriads stood gazing on their armed foes, scanning their number,
their array, their probable powers of resistance and destruction, and
listening with throbbing hearts for the momentarily expected note
of death; while visions of victory and glory came thronging on each
soldier's high-strung brain, not unmingled with recollections of the
home which his fall might soon leave desolate, nor without shrinking
nature sometimes prompting the cold thought, that in a few moments he
might be writhing in agony, or lie a trampled and mangled mass of clay
on the grass now waving so freshly and purely before him.

Such thoughts WILL arise in human breasts, though the brave man soon
silences "the child within us that trembles before death," [See Plato,
Phaedon, c. 60; and Grote's History of Greece, vol. viii. p. 656.] and
nerves himself for the coming struggle by the mental preparation which
Xenophon has finely called "the soldier's arraying his own soul for
battle." [Hellenica, lib. vii. c. v. s. 22.] Well, too, may we hope and
believe that many a spirit sought aid from a higher and holier source;
and that many a fervent though silent prayer arose on that Sabbath morn
(the battle of Waterloo was fought on a Sunday) to the Lord of Sabaoth,
the God of Battles, from the ranks, whence so many thousands were about
to appear that day before his judgment-seat.

Not only to those who were thus present as spectators and actors in
the dread drama, but to all Europe, the decisive contest then impending
between the rival French and English nations, each under its chosen
chief was the object of exciting interest and deepest solicitude.
"Never, indeed, had two such generals as the Duke of Wellington and the
Emperor Napoleon encountered since the day when Scipio and Hannibal met
at Zama." [See SUPRA, p. 82.]

The two great champions, who now confronted each other, were equals in
years, and each had entered the military profession at the same early
age. The more conspicuous stage, on which the French general's youthful
genius was displayed, his heritage of the whole military power of the
French Republic, the position on which for years he was elevated as
sovereign head of an empire surpassing that of Charlemagne, and the
dazzling results of his victories, which made and unmade kings, had
given him a formidable pre-eminence in the eyes of mankind. Military men
spoke with justly rapturous admiration of the brilliancy of his first
Italian campaigns, when he broke through the pedantry of traditional
tactics, and with a small but promptly-wielded force, shattered army
after army of the Austrians, conquered provinces and capitals, dictated
treaties, and annihilated or created states. The iniquity of his
Egyptian expedition was too often forgotten in contemplating the
skill and boldness with which he destroyed the Mameluke cavalry at the
Pyramids, and the Turkish infantry at Aboukir. None could forget the
marvellous passage of the Alps in 1800, or the victory of Marengo,
which wrested Italy back from Austria, and destroyed the fruit of
twenty victories, which the enemies of France had gained over her in the
absence of her favourite chief. Even higher seemed the glories of
his German campaigns, the triumphs of Ulm, of Austerlitz, of Jena, of
Wagram. Napoleon's disasters in Russia, in 1812, were imputed by
his admirers to the elements; his reverses in Germany, in 1813, were
attributed by them to treachery: and even those two calamitous years had
been signalised by his victories at Borodino, at Lutzen, at Bautzen, at
Dresden, and at Hanau. His last campaign, in the early months of 1814,
was rightly cited as the most splendid exhibition of his military
genius, when, with a far inferior army, he long checked and frequently
defeated the vast hosts that were poured upon France. His followers
fondly hoped that the campaign of 1815 would open with another "week
of miracles," like that which had seen his victories at Montmirail
and Montereau. The laurel of Ligny was even now fresh upon his brows.
Blucher had not stood before him; and who was the Adversary that now
should bar the Emperor's way?

That Adversary had already overthrown the Emperor's best generals, and
the Emperor's best armies; and, like Napoleon himself, had achieved a
reputation in more than European wars. Wellington was illustrious as the
destroyer of the Mahratta power, as the liberator of Portugal and Spain,
and the successful invader of Southern France. In early youth he had
held high command in India; and had displayed eminent skill in planning
and combining movements, and unrivalled celerity and boldness in
execution. On his return to Europe several years passed away before any
fitting opportunity was accorded for the exercise of his genius. In
this important respect, Wellington, as a subject, and Napoleon, as a
sovereign, were far differently situated. At length his appointment
to the command in the Spanish Peninsula gave him the means of showing
Europe that England had a general who could revive the glories of Crecy,
of Poictiers, of Agincourt, of Blenheim, and of Ramilies. At the head of
forces always numerically far inferior to the armies with which
Napoleon deluged the Peninsula;--thwarted by jealous and incompetent
allies;--ill-supported by friends, and assailed by factious enemies at
home; Wellington maintained the war for several years, unstained by any
serious reverse, and marked by victory in thirteen pitched battles,
at Vimiera, the Douro, Talavera, Busaco, Fuentes d'Onore, Salamanca,
Vittoria, the Pyrenees, the Bidassoa, the Nive, the Nivelle, Orthes, and
Toulouse. Junot, Victor, Massena, Ney, Marmont, and Jourdain,--marshals
whose names were the terrors of continental Europe--had been baffled
by his skill, and smitten down by his energy, while he liberated the
kingdoms of the Peninsula from them and their Imperial master. In vain
did Napoleon at last despatch Soult, the ablest of his lieutenants,
to turn the tide of Wellington's success and defend France against the
English invader. Wellington met Soult's manoeuvres with superior skill,
and his boldness with superior vigour. When Napoleon's first abdication,
in 1814, suspended hostilities, Wellington was master of the fairest
districts of Southern France; and had under him a veteran army, with
which (to use his own expressive phrase) "he felt he could have gone
anywhere and done anything." The fortune of war had hitherto kept
separate the orbits in which Napoleon and he had moved. Now, on the ever
memorable 18th of June, 1815, they met at last.

It is, indeed, remarkable that Napoleon, during his numerous campaigns
in Spain as well as other countries, not only never encountered the Duke
of Wellington before the day of Waterloo, but that he was never until
then personally engaged with British troops, except at the siege of
Toulon, in 1793, which was the very first incident of his military
career. Many, however, of the French generals who were with him in 1815,
knew well, by sharp experience, what English soldiers were, and what
the leader was who now headed them. Ney, Foy, and other officers who had
served in the Peninsula, warned Napoleon that he would find the English
infantry "very devils in fight." The Emperor, however, persisted in
employing the old system of attack, with which the French generals
often succeeded against continental troops, but which had always failed
against the English in the Peninsula. He adhered to his usual tactics of
employing the order of the column; a mode of attack probably favoured by
him (as Sir Walter Scott remarks) on account of his faith in the extreme
valour of the French officers by whom the column was headed. It is a
threatening formation, well calculated to shake the firmness of ordinary
foes; but which, when steadily met, as the English have met it, by heavy
volleys of musketry from an extended line, followed up by a resolute
bayonet charge, has always resulted in disaster to the assailants. [See
especially Sir W. Napier's glorious pictures of the battles of Busaco
and Albuera. The THEORETICAL advantages of the attack in column, and
its peculiar fitness for a French army, are set forth in the Chevalier
Folard's "Traite de la Colonne," prefixed to the first volume of his
"Polybius," See also the preface to his sixth volume.]

It was approaching noon before the action commenced. Napoleon, in his
Memoirs, gives as the reason for this delay, the miry state of the
ground through the heavy rain of the preceding night and day, which
rendered it impossible for cavalry or artillery to manoeuvre on it till
a few hours of dry weather had given it its natural consistency. It has
been supposed, also, that he trusted to the effect which the sight of
the imposing array of his own forces was likely to produce on the part
of the allied army. The Belgian regiments had been tampered with;
and Napoleon had well-founded hopes of seeing them quit the Duke of
Wellington in a body, and range themselves under his own eagles. The
Duke, however, who knew and did not trust them, had guarded against the
risk of this, by breaking up the corps of Belgians, and distributing
them in separate regiments among troops on whom he could rely. [Siborne,
vol. i. p. 373.]

At last, at about half-past eleven o'clock, Napoleon began the battle by
directing a powerful force from his left wing under his brother, Prince
Jerome, to attack Hougoumont. Column after column of the French now
descended from the west of the southern heights, and assailed that
post with fiery valour, which was encountered with the most determined
bravery. The French won the copse round the house, but a party of the
British Guards held the house itself throughout the day. The whole of
Byng's brigade was required to man this hotly-contested post. Amid
shell and shot, and the blazing fragments of part of the buildings,
this obstinate contest was continued. But still the English were firm in
Hougoumont; though the French occasionally moved forward in such numbers
as enabled them to surround and mask it with part of their troops from
their left wing, while others pressed onward up the slope, and assailed
the British right.

The cannonade, which commenced at first between the British right and
the French left, in consequence of the attack on Hougoumont, soon became
general along both lines; and about one o'clock, Napoleon directed a
grand attack to be made under Marshal Ney upon the centre and left wing
of the allied army. For this purpose four columns of infantry, amounting
to about eighteen thousand men, were collected, supported by a strong
division of cavalry under the celebrated Kellerman; and seventy-four
guns were brought forward ready to be posted on the ridge of a little
undulation of the ground in the interval between the two principal
chains of heights, so as to bring their fire to bear on the Duke's line
at a range of about seven hundred yards. By the combined assault of
these formidable forces, led on by Ney, "the bravest of the brave,"
Napoleon hoped to force the left centre of the British position, to take
La Haye Sainte, and then pressing forward, to occupy also the farm of
Mont St. Jean. He then could cut the mass of Wellington's troops off
from their line of retreat upon Brussels, and from their own left,
and also completely sever them from any Prussian troops that might be
approaching.

The columns destined for this great and decisive operation descended
majestically from the French line of hills, and gained the ridge of the
intervening eminence, on which the batteries that supported them were
now ranged. As the columns descended again from this eminence, the
seventy-four guns opened over their heads with terrible effect upon the
troops of the Allies that were stationed on the heights to the left
of the Charleroi road. One of the French columns kept to the east, and
attacked the extreme left of the Allies; the other three continued to
move rapidly forwards upon the left centre of the allied position. The
front line of the Allies here was composed of Bylandt's brigade of Dutch
and Belgians. As the French columns moved up the southward slope of the
height on which the Dutch and Belgians stood, and the skirmishers in
advance began to open their fire, Bylandt's entire brigade turned and
fled in disgraceful and disorderly panic; but there were men more worthy
of the name behind.

In this part of-the second line of the Allies were posted Pack and
Kempt's brigades of English infantry, which had suffered severely at
Quatre Bras. But Picton was here as general of division, and not even
Ney himself surpassed in resolute bravery that stern and fiery spirit.
Picton brought his two brigades forward, side by side, in a thin,
two-deep line. Thus joined together, they were not three thousand
strong. With these Picton had to make head against the three victorious
French columns, upwards of four times that strength, and who, encouraged
by the easy rout of the Dutch and Belgians, now came confidently over
the ridge of the hill. The British infantry stood firm; and as the
French halted and began to deploy into line, Picton seized the critical
moment. He shouted in his stentorian voice to Kempt's brigade: "A
volley, and then charge!" At a distance of less than thirty yards that
volley was poured upon the devoted first sections of the nearest column;
and then, with a fierce hurrah, the British dashed in with the bayonet.
Picton was shot dead as he rushed forward, but his men pushed on with
the cold steel. The French reeled back in confusion. Pack's infantry had
checked the other two columns and down came a whirlwind of British horse
on the whole mass, sending them staggering from the crest of the hill,
and cutting them down by whole battalions. Ponsonby's brigade of heavy
cavalry (the Union Brigade as it was called, from its being made up of
the British Royals, the Scots Greys, and the Irish Inniskillings), did
this good service. On went the horsemen amid the wrecks of the French
columns, capturing two eagles, and two thousand prisoners; onwards
still they galloped, and sabred the artillerymen of Ney's seventy-four
advanced guns; then severing the traces, and cutting the throats of the
artillery horses, they rendered these guns totally useless to the French
throughout the remainder of the day. While thus far advanced beyond the
British position and disordered by success, they were charged by a
large body of French lancers, and driven back with severe loss, till
Vandeleur's Light horse came to their aid, and beat off the French
lancers in their turn.

Equally unsuccessful with the advance of the French infantry in this
grand attack, had been the efforts of the French cavalry who moved
forward in support of it, along the east of the Charleroi road.
Somerset's cavalry of the English Household Brigade had been launched,
on the right of Picton's division, against the French horse, at the same
time that the English Union Brigade of heavy horse charged the French
infantry columns on the left.

Somerset's brigade was formed of the Life Guards, the Blues, and the
Dragoon Guards. The hostile cavalry, which Kellerman led forward,
consisted chiefly of Cuirassiers. This steel-clad mass of French
horsemen rode down some companies of German infantry, near La Haye
Sainte, and flushed with success, they bounded onward to the ridge of
the British position. The English Household Brigade, led on by the
Earl of Uxbridge in person, spurred forward to the encounter, and in
an instant, the two adverse lines of strong swordsmen, on their
strong steeds, dashed furiously together. A desperate and sanguinary
hand-to-hand fight ensued, in which the physical superiority of the
Anglo-Saxons, guided by equal skill, and animated with equal valour,
was made decisively manifest. Back went the chosen cavalry of France;
and after them, in hot pursuit, spurred the English Guards. They went
forward as far and as fiercely as their comrades of the Union Brigade;
and, like them, the Household cavalry suffered severely before they
regained the British position, after their magnificent charge and
adventurous pursuit.

Napoleon's grand effort to break the English left centre had thus
completely failed; and his right wing was seriously weakened by the
heavy loss which it had sustained. Hougoumont was still being assailed,
and was still successfully resisting. Troops were now beginning to
appear at the edge of the horizon on Napoleon's right, which he too well
knew to be Prussian, though he endeavoured to persuade his followers
that they were Grouchy's men coming to their aid.

Grouchy was in fact now engaged at Wavre with his whole force, against
Thielmam's single Prussian corps, while the other three corps of the
Prussian army were moving without opposition, save from the difficulties
of the ground, upon Waterloo. Grouchy believed, on the 17th, and caused
Napoleon to believe, that the Prussian army was retreating by lines of
march remote from Waterloo upon Namur and Maestricht. Napoleon learned
only on the 18th, that there were Prussians in Wavre, and felt jealous
about the security of his own right. He accordingly, before he attacked
the English, sent Grouchy orders to engage the Prussians at Wavre
without delay, AND TO APPROACH THE MAIN FRENCH ARMY, SO AS TO UNITE HIS
COMMUNICATIONS WITH THE EMPEROR'S. Grouchy entirely neglected this last
part of his instructions; and in attacking the Prussians whom he found
at Wavre, he spread his force more and more towards his right, that is
to say, in the direction most remote from Napoleon. He thus knew nothing
of Blucher's and Bulow's flank march upon Waterloo, till six in the
evening of the 18th, when he received a note which Soult by Napoleon's
orders had sent off from the field of battle at Waterloo at one o'clock,
to inform Grouchy that Bulow was coming over the heights of St. Lambert,
on the Emperor's right flank, and directing Grouchy to approach and join
the main army instantly, and crush Bulow EN FLAGRANT DELIT. It was then
too late for Grouchy to obey; but it is remarkable that as early as noon
on the 18th, and while Grouchy had not proceeded as far as Wavre, he
and his suite heard, the sound of heavy cannonading In the direction
of Planchenoit and Mont St. Jean. General Gerard, who was with Grouchy,
implored him to march towards the cannonade, and join his operations
with those of Napoleon, who was evidently engaged with the English.
Grouchy refused to do so, or even to detach part of his force in that
direction. He said that his instructions were to fight the Prussians
at Wavre. He marched upon Wavre and fought for the rest of the day
with Thielman accordingly, while Blucher and Bulow were attacking the
Emperor.

[I have heard the remark made that Grouchy twice had in his hands the
power of changing the destinies of Europe, and twice wanted nerve to
act: first when he flinched from landing the French army at Bantry Bay
in 1796 (he was second in command to Hoche, whose ship was blown back
by a storm), and secondly, when he failed to lead his whole force from
Wavre to the scene of decisive conflict at Waterloo. But such were the
arrangements of the Prussian General, that even if Grouchy had marched
upon Waterloo, he would have been held in check by the nearest Prussian
corps, or certainly by the two nearest ones, while the rest proceeded
to join Wellington. This, however, would have diminished the number of
Prussians who appeared at Waterloo, and (what is still more important)
would have kept them back to a later hour.--See Siborne, vol i. p. 323,
and Gleig, p. 142.

There are some very valuable remarks on this subject in the 70th No. of
the QUARTERLY in an article on the "Life of Blucher," usually attributed
to Sir Francis Head. The Prussian writer, General Clausewitz, is there
cited as "expressing a positive opinion, in which every military critic
but a Frenchman must concur, that, even had the whole of Grouchy's
force been at Napoleon's disposal, the Duke had nothing to fear pending
Blucher's arrival.

"The Duke is often talked of as having exhausted his reserves in the
action. This is another gross error, which Clausewitz has thoroughly
disposed of. He enumerates the tenth British Brigade, the division of
Chasse, and the cavalry of Collaert, as having been little or not at all
engaged; and he might have also added two brigades of light cavalry."
The fact, also, that Wellington did not at any part of the day order up
Prince Frederick's corps from Hal, is a conclusive proof that the Duke
was not so distressed as some writers have represented. Hal is not ten
miles from the field of Waterloo.]

Napoleon had witnessed with bitter disappointment the rout of his
troops,--foot, horse, and artillery,--which attacked the left centre
of the English, and the obstinate resistance which the garrison of
Hougoumont opposed to all the exertions of his left wing. He now
caused the batteries along the line of high ground held by him to be
strengthened, and for some time an unremitting and most destructive
cannonade raged across the valley, to the partial cessation of other
conflict. But the superior fire of the French artillery, though it
weakened, could not break the British line, and more close and summary
measures were requisite.

It was now about half-past three o'clock; and though Wellington's army
had suffered severely by the unremitting cannonade, and in the late
desperate encounter, no part of the British position had been forced.
Napoleon determined therefore to try what effect he could produce on the
British centre and right by charges of his splendid cavalry, brought on
in such force that the Duke's cavalry could not check them. Fresh troops
were at the same time sent to assail La Haye Sainte and Hougoumont, the
possession of these posts being the Emperor's unceasing object. Squadron
after squadron of the French cuirassiers accordingly ascended the slopes
on the Duke's right, and rode forward with dauntless courage against
the batteries of the British artillery in that part of the field. The
artillery-men were driven from their guns, and the cuirassiers cheered
loudly at their supposed triumph. But the Duke had formed his infantry
in squares, and the cuirassiers charged in vain against the impenetrable
hedges of bayonets, while the fire from the inner ranks of the squares
told with terrible effect on their squadrons. Time after time they rode
forward with invariably the same result: and as they receded from each
attack the British artillerymen rushed forward from the centres of
the squares, where they had taken refuge, and plied their guns on the
retiring horsemen. Nearly the whole of Napoleon's magnificent body of
heavy cavalry was destroyed in these fruitless attempts upon the British
right. But in another part of the field fortune favoured him for a time.
Two French columns of infantry from Donzelot's division took La Haye
Sainte between six and seven o'clock, and the means were now given for
organizing another formidable attack on the centre of the Allies.

     ["On came the whirlwind--like the last
      But fiercest sweep of tempest blast--
      On came the whirlwind--steel-gleams broke
      Like lightning through the rolling smoke;
      The war was waked anew,
      Three hundred cannon-mouths roar'd loud,
      And from their throats, with flash and cloud,
      Their showers of iron threw.
      Beneath their fire in full career,
      Rush'd on the ponderous cuirassier,
      The lancer couch'd his ruthless spear,
      And hurrying as to havoc near,
      The cohorts' eagles flew.
      In one dark torrent, broad and strong,
      The advancing onset roll'd along,
      Forth harbinger'd by fierce acclaim,
      That, from the shroud of smoke and flame,
      Peal'd wildly the imperial name.

     "But on the British heart were lost
      The terrors of the charging host;
      For not an eye the storm that view'd
      Changed its proud glance of fortitude,
      Nor was one forward footstep staid,
      As dropp'd the dying and the dead.
      Fast as their ranks the thunders tear,
      Fast they renew'd each serried square;
      And on the wounded and the slain
      Closed their diminish'd files again,
      Till from their line scarce spears' lengths three,
      Emerging from the smoke they see
      Helmet, and plume, and panoply,--
      Then waked their fire at once!
      Each musketeer's revolving knell,
      As fast, as regularly fell,
      As when they practise to display
      Their discipline on festal day.
      Then down went helm and lance,
      Down were the eagle banners sent,
      Down reeling steeds and riders went,
      Corslets were pierced, and pennons rent;
      And, to augment the fray,
      Wheeled full against their staggering flanks,
      The English horsemen's foaming ranks
      Forced their resistless way.
      Then to the musket-knell succeeds
      The clash of swords--the neigh of steeds--
      As plies the smith his clanging trade,
      Against the cuirass rang the blade;
      And while amid their close array
      The well-served cannon rent their way,
      And while amid their scatter'd band
      Raged the fierce rider's bloody brand,
      Recoil'd in common rout and fear,
      Lancer and guard and cuirassier,
      Horseman and foot,--a mingled host,
      Their leaders fall'n, their standards lost."--SCOTT.]

There was no time to be lost--Blucher and Bulow were beginning to press
hard upon the French right. As early as five o'clock, Napoleon had been
obliged to detach Lobau's infantry and Domont's horse to check these new
enemies. They succeeded in doing so for a time; but as larger numbers
of the Prussians came on the field, they turned Lobau's right flank, and
sent a strong force to seize the village of Planchenoit, which, it will
be remembered, lay in the rear of the French right.

The design of the Allies was not merely to prevent Napoleon from
advancing upon Brussels, but to cut off his line of retreat and utterly
destroy his army. The defence of Planchenoit therefore became absolutely
essential for the safety of the French, and Napoleon was obliged to send
his Young Guard to occupy that village, which was accordingly held
by them with great gallantry against the reiterated assaults of the
Prussian left, under Bulow. Three times did the Prussians fight their
way into Planchenoit, and as often did the French drive them out: the
contest was maintained with the fiercest desperation on both sides,
such being the animosity between the two nations that quarter was seldom
given or even asked. Other Prussian forces were now appearing on the
field nearer to the English left; whom also Napoleon kept in check, by
troops detached for that purpose. Thus a large part of the French army
was now thrown back on a line at right angles with the line of that
portion which still confronted and assailed the English position. But
this portion was now numerically inferior to the force under the Duke
of Wellington, which Napoleon had been assailing throughout the day,
without gaining any other advantage than the capture of La Haye Sainte.
It is true that, owing to the gross misconduct of the greater part of
the Dutch and Belgian troops, the Duke was obliged to rely exclusively
on his English and German soldiers, and the ranks of these had been
fearfully thinned; but the survivors stood their ground heroically, and
opposed a resolute front to every forward movement of their enemies.

On no point of the British line was the pressure more severe than on
Halkett's brigade in the right centre which was composed of battalions
of the 30th, the 33d, the 69th, and the 73d British regiments. We
fortunately can quote from the journal of a brave officer of the 30th, a
narrative of what took place in this part of the field. [This excellent
journal was published in the "United Service Magazine" during the year
1852.] The late Major Macready served at Waterloo in the light company
of the 30th. The extent of the peril and the carnage which Halkett's
brigade had to encounter, may be judged of by the fact that this light
company marched into the field three officers and fifty-one men, and
that at the end of the battle they stood one officer and ten men. Major
Macready's blunt soldierly account of what he actually saw and felt,
gives a far better idea of the terrific scene, than can be gained from
the polished generalisations which the conventional style of history
requires, or even from the glowing stanzas of the poet. During the
earlier part of the day Macready and his light company were thrown
forward as skirmishers in front of the brigade; but when the French
cavalry commenced their attacks on the British right centre, he and his
comrades were ordered back. The brave soldier thus himself describes
what passed:

"Before the commencement of this attack our company and the Grenadiers
of the 73d were skirmishing briskly in the low ground, covering our
guns, and annoying those of the enemy. The line of tirailleurs
opposed to us was not stronger than our own, but on a sudden they were
reinforced by numerous bodies, and several guns began playing on us with
canister. Our poor fellows dropped very fast, and Colonel Vigoureux,
Rumley, and Pratt, were carried off badly wounded in about two minutes.
I was now commander of our company. We stood under this hurricane of
small shot till Halkett sent to order us in, and I brought away about a
third of the light bobs; the rest were killed or wounded, and I really
wonder how one of them escaped. As our bugler was killed, I shouted
and made signals to move by the left, in order to avoid the fire of our
guns, and to put as good a face upon the business as possible.

"When I reached Lloyd's abandoned guns, I stood near them for about
a minute to contemplate the scene: it was grand beyond description.
Hougoumont and its wood sent up a broad flame through the dark masses
of smoke that overhung the field; beneath this cloud the French were
indistinctly visible. Here a waving mass of long red feathers could be
seen; there, gleams as from a sheet of steel showed that the cuirassiers
were moving; 400 cannon were belching forth fire and death on every
side; the roaring and shouting were indistinguishably commixed--together
they gave me an idea of a labouring volcano. Bodies of infantry and
cavalry were pouring down on us, and it was time to leave contemplation,
so I moved towards our columns, which were standing up in square. Our
regiment and 73d formed one, and 33d and 69th another; to our right
beyond them were the Guards, and on our left the Hanoverians and German
legion of our division. As I entered the rear face of our square I
had to step over a body, and looking down, recognised Harry Beers, an
officer of our Grenadiers, who about an hour before shook hands with me,
laughing, as I left the columns. I was on the usual terms of military
intimacy with poor Harry--that is to say, if either of us had died a
natural death, the other would have pitied him as a good fellow, and
smiled at his neighbour as he congratulated him on the step; but seeing
his herculean frame and animated countenance thus suddenly stiff and
motionless before me (I know not whence the feeling could originate, for
I had just seen my dearest friend drop, almost with indifference), the
tears started in my eyes as I sighed out, 'Poor Harry!' The tear was
not dry on my cheek when poor Harry was no longer thought of. In a few
minutes after, the enemy's cavalry galloped up and crowned the crest of
our position. Our guns were abandoned, and they formed between the two
brigades, about a hundred paces in our front. Their first charge was
magnificent. As soon as they quickened their trot into a gallop, the
cuirassiers bent their heads so that the peaks of their helmets looked
like vizors, and they seemed cased in armour from the plume to the
saddle. Not a shot was fired till they were within thirty yards, when
the word was given, and our men fired away at them. The effect was
magical. Through the smoke we could see helmets falling, cavaliers
starting from their seats with convulsive springs as they received our
balls, horses plunging and rearing in the agonies of fright and pain,
and crowds of the soldiery dismounted, part of the squadron in retreat,
but the more daring remainder backing their horses to force them on
our bayonets. Our fire soon disposed of these gentlemen. The main
body re-formed in our front, and rapidly and gallantly repeated their
attacks, In fact, from this time (about four o'clock) till near six, we
had a constant repetition of these brave but unavailing charges. There
was no difficulty in repulsing them, but our ammunition decreased
alarmingly. At length an artillery wagon galloped up, emptied two or
three casks of cartridges into the square, and we were all comfortable.

"The best cavalry is contemptible to a steady and well-supplied
infantry regiment; even our men saw this, and began to pity the useless
perseverance of their assailants, and, as they advanced, would growl
out, 'Here come these fools again!' One of their superior officers tried
a RUSE DE GUERRE, by advancing and dropping his sword, as though he
surrendered; some of us were deceived by him, but Halkett ordered the
men to fire, and he coolly retired, saluting us. Their devotion was
invincible. One officer whom we had taken prisoner was asked what force
Napoleon might have in the field, and replied with a smile of mingled
derision and threatening, 'Vous verrez bientot sa force, messieurs.' A
private cuirassier was wounded and dragged into the square; his only cry
was, 'Tuez donc, tuez, tuez moi, soldats!' and as one of our men dropped
dead close to him, he seized his bayonet, and forced it into his own
neck; but this not despatching him, he raised up his cuirass, and
plunging the bayonet into his stomach, kept working it about till he
ceased to breathe.

"Though we constantly thrashed our steel-clad opponents, we found more
troublesome customers in the round shot and grape, which all this time
played on us with terrible effect, and fully avenged the cuirassiers.
Often as the volleys created openings in our square would the cavalry
dash on, but they were uniformly unsuccessful. A regiment on our
right seemed sadly disconcerted, and at one moment was in considerable
confusion. Halkett rode out to them, and seizing their colour, waved
it over his head, and restored them to something like order, though not
before his horse was shot under him. At the height of their unsteadiness
we got the order to 'right face' to move to their assistance; some of
the men mistook it for 'right about face,' and faced accordingly, when
old Major M'Laine, 73d, called out, 'No, my boys, its "right face;"
you'll never hear the right about as long as a French bayonet is in
front of you!' In a few moments he was mortally wounded. A regiment of
light Dragoons, by their facings either the 16th or 23d, came up to our
left and charged the cuirassiers. We cheered each other as they passed
us; they did all they could, but were obliged to retire after a few
minutes at the sabre. A body of Belgian cavalry advanced for the same
purpose, but on passing our square, they stopped short. Our noble
Halkett rode out to them and offered to charge at their head; it was of
no use; the Prince of Orange came up and exhorted them to do their duty,
but in vain. They hesitated till a few shots whizzed through them, when
they turned about, and galloped like fury, or, rather, like fear. As
they passed the right face of our square the men, irritated by their
rascally conduct, unanimously took up their pieces and fired a volley
into them, and 'many a good fellow was destroyed so cowardly.'

"The enemy's cavalry were by this time nearly disposed of, and as they
had discovered the inutility of their charges, they commenced annoying
us by a spirited and well-directed carbine fire. While we were employed
in this manner it was impossible to see farther than the columns on our
right and left, but I imagine most of the army were similarly situated:
all the British and Germans were doing their duty. About six o'clock
I perceived some artillery trotting up our hill, which I knew by their
caps to belong to the Imperial Guard. I had hardly mentioned this to
a brother officer when two guns unlimbered within seventy paces of us,
and, by their first discharge of grape, blew seven men into the centre
of the square. They immediately reloaded, and kept up a constant and
destructive fire. It was noble to see our fellows fill up the gaps after
every discharge. I was much distressed at this moment; having ordered up
three of my light bobs, they had hardly taken their station when two
of them fell horribly lacerated. One of them looked up in my face and
uttered a sort of reproachful groan, and I involuntarily exclaimed, 'I
couldn't help it.' We would willingly have charged these guns, but, had
we deployed, the cavalry that flanked them would have made an example of
us.

"The 'vivida vis animi'--the glow which fires one upon entering into
action--had ceased; it was now to be seen which side had most bottom,
and would stand killing longest. The Duke visited us frequently at this
momentous period; he was coolness personified. As he crossed the rear
face of our square a shell fell amongst our grenadiers, and he checked
his horse to see its effect. Some men were blown to pieces by the
explosion, and he merely stirred the rein of his charger, apparently
as little concerned at their fate as at his own danger. No leader ever
possessed so fully the confidence of his soldiery: wherever he appeared,
a murmur of 'Silence--stand to your front--here's the Duke,' was
heard through the column, and then all was steady as on a parade. His
aides-de-camp, Colonels Canning and Gordon, fell near our square, and
the former died within it. As he came near us late in the evening,
Halkett rode out to him and represented our weak state, begging his
Grace to afford us a little support. 'It's impossible, Halkett,' said
he. And our general replied, 'If so, sir, you may depend on the brigade
to a man!'"

All accounts of the battle show that the Duke was ever present at each
spot where danger seemed the most pressing; inspiriting his men by a few
homely and good-humoured words; and restraining their impatience to be
led forward to attack in their turn.--"Hard pounding this, gentlemen: we
will try who can pound the longest," was his remark to a battalion, on
which the storm from the French guns was pouring with peculiar fury.
Riding up to one of the squares, which had been dreadfully weakened, and
against which a fresh attack of French cavalry was coming, he called to
them: "Stand firm, my lads; what will they say of this in England?" As
he rode along another part of the line where the men had for some time
been falling fast beneath the enemy's cannonade, without having any
close fighting, a murmur reached his ear of natural eagerness to advance
and do something more than stand still to be shot at. The Duke called to
them: "Wait a little longer, my lads, and you shall have your wish." The
men were instantly satisfied and steady. It was, indeed, indispensable
for the Duke to bide his time. The premature movement of a single corps
down from the British line of heights, would have endangered the whole
position, and have probably made Waterloo a second Hastings.

But the Duke inspired all under him with his own spirit of patient
firmness. When other generals besides Halkett sent to him, begging for
reinforcements, or for leave to withdraw corps which were reduced to
skeletons, the answer was the same: "It is impossible; you must hold
your ground to the last man, and all will be well." He gave a similar
reply to some of his staff; who asked instructions from him, so that,
in the event of his falling, his successor might follow out his plan. He
answered, "My plan is simply to stand my ground here to the last man."
His personal danger was indeed imminent throughout the day; and though
he escaped without injury to himself or horse, one only of his numerous
staff was equally fortunate.

["As far as the French accounts would lead us to infer, it appears that
the losses among Napoleon's staff were comparatively trifling. On this
subject perhaps the marked contrast afforded by the following anecdotes,
which have been related to me on excellent authority, may tend to throw
some light. At one period of the battle, when the Duke was surrounded by
several of his staff, it was very evident that the group had become the
object of the fire of a French battery. The shot fell fast about them,
generally striking and turning up the ground on which they stood. Their
horses became restive and 'Copenhagen' himself so fidgetty, that the
Duke, getting impatient, and having reasons for remaining on the
spot, said to those about him, 'Gentlemen we are rather too close
together--better to divide a little.' Subsequently, at another point of
the line, an officer of artillery came up to the Duke, and stated that
he had a distinct view of Napoleon, attended by his staff; that he had
the guns of his battery well pointed in that direction, and was prepared
to fire. His Grace instantly and emphatically exclaimed, 'No! no! I'll
not allow it. It is not the business of commanders to be firing upon
each other.'"--Siborne, vol. ii. p. 263. How different is this from
Napoleon's conduct at the battle of Dresden, when he personally directed
the fire of the battery which, as he thought, killed the Emperor
Alexander, and actually killed Moreau.]

Napoleon had stationed himself during the battle on a little hillock
near La Belle Alliance, in the centre of the French position. Here he
was seated, with a large table from the neighbouring farm-house before
him, on which maps and plans were spread; and thence with his telescope
he surveyed the various points of the field. Soult watched his orders
close at his left hand, and his staff was grouped on horseback a
few paces in the rear. ["Souvenirs Militaires," par Col.
Lemonnier-Delafosse, p. 407. "Ouvrard, who attended Napoleon as chief
commissary of the French army on that occasion, told me that Napoleon
was suffering from a complaint which made it very painful for him to
ride."--Lord Ellesmere, p. 47.] Here he remained till near the close
of the day, preserving the appearance at least of calmness, except some
expressions of irritation which escaped him, when Ney's attack on the
British left centre was defeated. But now that the crisis of the battle
was evidently approaching, he mounted a white Persian charger, which
he rode in action because the troops easily recognised him by the horse
colour. He had still the means of effecting a retreat. His Old Guard
had yet taken no part in the action. Under cover of it, he might have
withdrawn his shattered forces and retired upon the French frontier. But
this would only have given the English and Prussians the opportunity
of completing their junction; and he knew that other armies were fast
coming up to aid them in a march upon Paris, if he should succeed in
avoiding an encounter with them, and retreating upon the capital. A
victory at Waterloo was his only alternative from utter ruin, and he
determined to employ his Guard in one bold stroke more to make that
victory his own.

Between seven and eight o'clock, the infantry of the Old Guard was
formed into two columns, on the declivity near La Belle Alliance. Ney
was placed at their head. Napoleon himself rode forward to a spot by
which his veterans were to pass; and, as they approached, he raised his
arm, and pointed to the position of the Allies, as if to tell them
that their path lay there. They answered with loud cries of "Vive
l'Empereur!" and descended the hill from their own side, into that
"valley of the shadow of death" while the batteries thundered with
redoubled vigour over their heads upon the British line. The line of
march of the columns of the Guard was directed between Hougoumont and La
Haye Sainte, against the British right centre; and at the same time the
French under Donzelot, who had possession of La Haye Sainte, commenced
a fierce attack upon the British centre, a little more to its left. This
part of the battle has drawn less attention than the celebrated attack
of the Old Guard; but it formed the most perilous crisis for the allied
army; and if the Young Guard had been there to support Donzelot, instead
of being engaged with the Prussians at Planchenoit, the consequences to
the Allies in that part of the field must have been most serious. The
French tirailleurs, who were posted in clouds in La Haye Sainte, and
the sheltered spots near it, picked off the artillerymen of the English
batteries near them: and taking advantage of the disabled state of the
English guns, the French brought some field-pieces up to La Haye Sainte,
and commenced firing grape from them on the infantry of the Allies, at
a distance of not more than a hundred paces. The allied infantry here
consisted of some German brigades, who were formed in squares, as it was
believed that Donzelot had cavalry ready behind La Haye Sainte to charge
them with, if they left that order of formation. In this state the
Germans remained for some time with heroic fortitude, though the
grape-shot was tearing gaps in their ranks and the side of one square
was literally blown away by one tremendous volley which the French
gunners poured into it. The Prince of Orange in vain endeavoured to lead
some Nassau troops to the aid of the brave Germans. The Nassauers would
not or could not face the French; and some battalions of Brunswickers,
whom the Duke of Wellington had ordered up as a reinforcement, at first
fell back, until the Duke in person rallied them, and led them on.
Having thus barred the farther advance of Donzelot, the Duke galloped
off to the right to head his men who were exposed to the attack of the
Imperial Guard. He had saved one part of his centre from being routed;
but the French had gained ground and kept it; and the pressure on the
allied line in front of La Haye Sainte was fearfully severe, until it
was relieved by the decisive success which the British in the right
centre achieved over the columns of the Guard.

The British troops on the crest of that part of the position, which the
first column of Napoleon's Guards assailed, were Maitland's brigade of
British Guards, having Adams's brigade (which had been brought forward
during the action) on their right. Maitland's men were lying down, in
order to avoid as far as possible the destructive effect of the French
artillery, which kept up an unremitting fire from the opposite heights,
until the first column of the Imperial Guard had advanced so far up
the slope towards the British position, that any further firing of the
French artillerymen would have endangered their own comrades. Meanwhile
the British guns were not idle; but shot and shell ploughed fast through
the ranks of the stately array of veterans that still moved imposingly
on. Several of the French superior officers were at its head. Ney's
horse was shot under him, but he still led the way on foot, sword in
hand. The front of the massive column now was on the ridge of the hill.
To their surprise they saw no troops before them. All they could discern
through the smoke was a small band of mounted officers. One of them was
the Duke himself. The French advanced to about fifty yards from where
the British Guards were lying down when the voice of one of the group of
British officers was heard calling, as if to the ground before him, "Up,
Guards, and at them!" It was the Duke who gave the order; and at the
words, as if by magic, up started before them a line of the British
Guards four deep, and in the most compact and perfect order. They poured
an instantaneous volley upon the head of the French column, by which
no less than three hundred of those chosen veterans are said to have
fallen. The French officers rushed forwards; and, conspicuous in front
of their men, attempted to deploy them into a more extended line, so as
to enable them to reply with effect to the British fire. But Maitland's
brigade kept showering in volley after volley with deadly rapidity. The
decimated column grew disordered in its vain efforts to expand itself
into a more efficient formation. The right word was given at the right
moment to the British for the bayonet-charge, and the brigade sprang
forward with a loud cheer against their dismayed antagonists. In an
instant the compact mass of the French spread out into a rabble, and
they fled back down the hill, pursued by Maitland's men, who, however,
returned to their position in time to take part in the repulse of the
second column of the Imperial Guard.

This column also advanced with great spirit and firmness under the
cannonade which was opened on it; and passing by the eastern wall of
Hougoumont, diverged slightly to the right as it moved up the slope
towards the British position, so as to approach nearly the same spot
where the first column had surmounted the height, and been defeated.
This enabled the British regiments of Adams's brigade to form a line
parallel to the left flank of the French column; so that while the front
of this column of French Guards had to encounter the cannonade of the
British batteries, and the musketry of Maitlands Guards, its left flank
was assailed with a destructive fire by a four-deep body of British
infantry, extending all along it. In such a position all the bravery
and skill of the French veterans were vain. The second column, like its
predecessor, broke and fled, taking at first a lateral direction along
the front of the British line towards the rear of La Haye Sainte, and
so becoming blended with the divisions of French infantry, which under
Donzelot had been assailing the Allies so formidably in that quarter.
The sight of the Old Guard broken and in flight checked the ardour which
Donzelot's troops had hitherto displayed. They, too, began to waver.
Adams's victorious brigade was pressing after the flying Guard, and now
cleared away the assailants of the allied centre. But the battle was
not yet won. Napoleon had still some battalions in reserve near La Belle
Alliance. He was rapidly rallying the remains of the first column of his
Guards, and he had collected into one body the remnants of the various
corps of cavalry, which had suffered so severely in the earlier part of
the day. The Duke instantly formed the bold resolution of now himself
becoming the assailant, and leading his successful though enfeebled army
forward, while the disheartening effect of the repulse of the Imperial
Guard on the rest of the French army was still strong, and before
Napoleon and Ney could rally the beaten veterans themselves for another
and a fiercer charge. As the close approach of the Prussians now
completely protected the Duke's left, he had drawn some reserves of
horse from that quarter, and he had a brigade of Hussars under Vivian
fresh and ready at hand. Without a moment's hesitation he launched these
against the cavalry near La Belie Alliance. The charge was as successful
as it was daring: and as there was now no hostile cavalry to check
the British infantry in a forward movement, the Duke gave the
long-wished-for command for a general advance of the army along the
whole line upon the foe. It was now past eight o'clock, and for nearly
nine deadly hours had the British and German regiments stood unflinching
under the fire of artillery, the charge of cavalry, and every variety of
assault, which the compact columns or the scattered tirailleurs of the
enemy's infantry could inflict. As they joyously sprang forward against
the discomfited masses of the French, the setting sun broke through the
clouds which had obscured the sky during the greater part of the day,
and glittered on the bayonets of the Allies, while they poured down into
the valley and towards the heights that were held by the foe. The Duke
himself was among the foremost in the advance, and personally directed
the movements against each body of the French that essayed resistance.
He rode in front of Adams's brigade, cheering it forward, and even
galloped among the most advanced of the British skirmishers,
speaking joyously to the men, and receiving their hearty shouts of
congratulation. The bullets of both friends and foes were whistling fast
round him; and one of the few survivors of his staff remonstrated with
him for thus exposing a life of such value. "Never mind," was the Duke's
answer;--"Never mind, let them fire away; the battle's won, and my life
is of no consequence now." And, indeed, almost the whole of the French
host was now in irreparable confusion. The Prussian army was coming more
and more rapidly forwards on their right; and the Young Guard, which
had held Planchenoit so bravely, was at last compelled to give way. Some
regiments of the Old Guard in vain endeavoured to form in squares and
stem the current. They were swept away, and wrecked among the waves of
the flyers. Napoleon had placed himself in one of these squares: Marshal
Soult, Generals Bertrand, Drouot, Corbineau, De Flahaut, and Gourgaud,
were with him. The Emperor spoke of dying on the field, but Soult seized
his bridle and turned his charger round, exclaiming, "Sire, are not the
enemy already lucky enough?" [Colonel Lemonnier-Delafosse, "Memoires,"
p. 388. The Colonel states that he heard these details from General
Gourgaud himself. The English reader will be reminded of Charles I.'s
retreat from Naseby.] With the greatest difficulty, and only by the
utmost exertion of the devoted officers round him, Napoleon cleared the
throng of fugitives, and escaped from the scene of the battle and the
war, which he and France had lost past all recovery. Meanwhile the Duke
of Wellington still rode forward with the van of his victorious troops,
until he reined up on the elevated ground near Rossomme. The daylight
was now entirely gone; but the young moon had risen, and the light which
it cast, aided by the glare from the burning houses and other buildings
in the line of the flying French and pursuing Prussians, enabled the
Duke to assure himself that his victory was complete. He then rode back
along the Charleroi road toward Waterloo: and near La Belle Alliance he
met Marshal Blucher. Warm were the congratulations that were exchanged
between the Allied Chiefs. It was arranged that the Prussians should
follow up the pursuit, and give the French no chance of rallying.
Accordingly the British army, exhausted by its toils and sufferings
during that dreadful day, did not advance beyond the heights which the
enemy had occupied. But the Prussians drove the fugitives before them
in merciless chase throughout the night. Cannon, baggage, and all the
materiel of the army were abandoned by the French; and many thousands
of the infantry threw away their arms to facilitate their escape. The
ground was strewn for miles with the wrecks of their host. There was no
rear-guard; nor was even the semblance of order attempted, an attempt
at resistance was made at the bridge and village of Genappe, the first
narrow pass through which the bulk of the French retired. The situation
was favourable; and a few resolute battalions, if ably commanded, might
have held their pursuers at bay there for some considerable time. But
despair and panic were now universal in the beaten army. At the first
sound of the Prussian drums and bugles, Genappe was abandoned, and
nothing thought of but headlong flight. The Prussians, under General
Gneisenau, still followed and still slew; nor even when the Prussian
infantry stopped in sheer exhaustion, was the pursuit given up.
Gneisenau still pushed on with the cavalry; and by an ingenious
stratagem, made the French believe that his infantry were still close on
them, and scared them from every spot where they attempted to pause and
rest. He mounted one of his drummers on a horse which had been taken
from the captured carriage of Napoleon, and made him ride along with
the pursuing cavalry, and beat the drum whenever they came on any large
number of the French. The French thus fled, and the Prussians pursued
through Quatre Bras, and even over the heights of Frasne; and when at
length Gneisenau drew bridle, and halted a little beyond Frasne with the
scanty remnant of keen hunters who had kept up the chace with him to
the last, the French were scattered through Gosselies, Marchiennes,
and Charleroi; and were striving to regain the left bank of the river
Sambre, which they had crossed in such pomp and pride not a hundred
hours before.

Part of the French left wing endeavoured to escape from the field
without blending with the main body of the fugitives who thronged
the Genappe causeway. A French officer, who was among those who thus
retreated across the country westward of the high-road, has
vividly described what he witnessed and what he suffered. Colonel
Lemonnier-Delafosse served in the campaign of 1815 in General Foy's
staff, and was consequently in that part of the French army at Waterloo,
which acted against Hougoumont and the British right wing. When the
column of the Imperial Guard made their great charge at the end of
the day, the troops of Foy's division advanced in support of them, and
Colonel Lemonnier-Delafosse describes the confident hopes of victory
and promotion with which he marched to that attack, and the fearful
carnage and confusion of the assailants, amid which he was helplessly
hurried back by his flying comrades. He then narrates the closing scene,
[Col. Lemonnier-Delafosse, "Memoires," pp. 385-405. There are omissions
and abridgments in the translation which I have given.]:

"Near one of the hedges of Hougoumont farm, without even a drummer to
beat the RAPPEL, we succeeded in rallying under the enemy's fire 300
men: they were nearly all that remained of our splendid division,
Thither came together a band of generals. There was Reille, whose horse
had been shot under him; there were D'Erlon, Bachelu, Foy, Jamin, and
others. All were gloomy and sorrowful, like vanquished men. Their words
were,--'Here is all that is left of my corps, of my division, of
my brigade. I, myself.' We had seen the fall of Duhesme, of
Pelet-de-Morvan, of Michel--generals who had found a glorious death. My
General, Foy, had his shoulder pierced through by a musket-ball: and out
of his whole staff two officers only were left to him, Cahour Duhay and
I. Fate had spared me in the midst of so many dangers, though the first
charger I rode had been shot and had fallen on me.

"The enemy's horse were coming down on us, and our little group was
obliged to retreat. 'What had happened to our division of the left wing
had taken place all along the line. The movement of the hostile cavalry,
which inundated the whole plain, had demoralised our soldiers, who
seeing all regular retreat of the army cut off, strove each man to
effect one for himself. At each instant the road became more encumbered.
Infantry, cavalry, and artillery, were pressing along pell-mell: jammed
together like a solid mass. Figure to yourself 40,000 men struggling and
thrusting themselves along a single causeway. We could not take that way
without destruction; so the generals who had collected together near the
Hougoumont hedge dispersed across the fields. General Foy alone remained
with the 300 men whom he had gleaned from the field of battle, and
marched at their head. Our anxiety was to withdraw from the scene of
action without being confounded with the fugitives. Our general wished
to retreat like a true soldier. Seeing three lights in the southern
horizon, like beacons, General Foy asked me what I thought of the
position of each. I answered, 'The first to the left is Genappe, the
second is at Bois de Bossu, near the farm of Quatre Bras; the third is
at Gosselies.' 'Let us march on the second one, then,' replied Foy, 'and
let no obstacle stop us--take the head of the column, and do not lose
sight of the guiding light.' Such was his order, and I strove to obey.

"After all the agitation and the incessant din of a long day of battle,
how imposing was the stillness of that night! We proceeded on our sad
and lonely march. We were a prey to the most cruel reflections, we were
humiliated, we were hopeless; but not a word of complaint was heard. We
walked silently as a troop of mourners, and it might have been said
that we were attending the funeral of our country's glory. Suddenly the
stillness was broken by a challenge,--'QUI VIVE?' 'France!' 'Kellerman!'
'Foy!' 'Is it you, General? come nearer to us.' At that moment we were
passing over a little hillock, at the foot of which was a hut, in which
Kellerman and some of his officers had halted. They came out to join
as Foy said to me, 'Kellerman knows the country: he has been along here
before with his cavalry; we had better follow him.' But we found that
the direction which Kellerman chose was towards the first light, towards
Genappe. That led to the causeway which our general rightly wished to
avoid I went to the left to reconnoitre, and was soon convinced that
such was the case. It was then that I was able to form a full idea of
the disorder of a routed army. What a hideous spectacle! The mountain
torrent, that uproots and whirls along with it every momentary obstacle,
is a feeble image of that heap of men, of horses, of equipages, rushing
one upon another; gathering before the least obstacle which dams up
their way for a few seconds, only to form a mass which overthrows
everything in the path which it forces for itself. Woe to him whose
footing failed him in that deluge! He was crushed, trampled to death! I
returned and told my general what I had seen, and he instantly abandoned
Kellerman, and resumed his original line of march.

"Keeping straight across the country over fields and the rough thickets,
we at last arrived at the Bois de Bossu, where we halted. My General
said to me, 'Go to the farm of Quatre Bras and announce that we are
here. The Emperor or Soult must be there. Ask for orders, and recollect
that I am waiting here for you. The lives of these men depend on your
exactness.' To reach the farm I was obliged to cross the high road: I
was on horseback, but nevertheless was borne away by the crowd that fled
along the road, and it was long are I could extricate myself and reach
the farmhouse. General Lobau was there with his staff, resting in
fancied security. They thought that their troops had halted there; but,
though a halt had been attempted, the men had soon fled forwards, like
their comrades of the rest of the army. The shots of the approaching
Prussians were now heard; and I believe that General Lobau was taken
prisoner in that farmhouse. I left him to rejoin my general, which I
did with difficulty. I found him alone. His men, as they came near the
current of flight, were infected with the general panic, and fled also.

"What was to be done? Follow that crowd of runaways? General Foy would
not hear of it. There were five of us still with him, all officers. He
had been wounded at about five in the afternoon, and the wound had not
been dressed. He suffered severely; but his moral courage was unbroken.
'Let us keep,' he said, 'a line parallel to the high road, and work our
way hence as we best can.' A foot-track was before us, and we followed
it.

"The moon shone out brightly, and revealed the full wretchedness of the
TABLEAU which met our eyes. A brigadier and four cavalry soldiers, whom
we met with, formed our escort. We marched on; and, as the noise grew
more distant, I thought that we were losing the parallel of the highway.
Finding that we had the moon more and more on the left, I felt sure of
this, and mentioned it to the General. Absorbed in thought, he made me
no reply. We came in front of a windmill, and endeavoured to procure
some information; but we could not gain an entrance, or make any one
answer, and we continued our nocturnal march. At last we entered a
village, but found every door closed against us, and were obliged to use
threats in order to gain admission into a single house. The poor woman
to whom it belonged, more dead than alive, received us as if we had been
enemies. Before asking where we were, 'Food, give as some food!' was our
cry. Bread and butter and beer were brought, and soon disappeared before
men who had fasted for twenty-four hours. A little revived, we ask,
'Where are we? what is the name of this village?'--'Vieville.'

"On looking at the map, I saw that in coming to that village we had
leaned too much to the right, and that we were in the direction of Mons.
In order to reach the Sambre at the bridge of Marchiennes, we had four
leagues to traverse; and there was scarcely time to march the distance
before daybreak. I made a villager act as our guide, and bound him by
his arm to my stirrup. He led us through Roux to Marchiennes. The
poor fellow ran alongside of my horse the whole way. It was cruel, but
necessary to compel him, for we had not an instant to spare. At six in
the morning we entered Marchiennes.

"Marshal Ney was there. Our general went to see him, and to ask what
orders he had to give. Ney was asleep; and, rather than rob him of
the first repose he had had for four days, our General returned to us
without seeing him. And, indeed, what orders could Marshal Ney have
given? The whole army was crossing the Sambre, each man where and now he
chose; some at Charleroi, some at Marchiennes. We were about to do the
same thing. When once beyond the Sambre we might safely halt; and both
men and horses were in extreme need of rest. We passed through Thuin;
and finding a little copse near the road, we gladly sought its shelter.
While our horses grazed, we lay down and slept. How sweet was that sleep
after the fatigues of the long day of battle, and after the night of
retreat more painful still! We rested in the little copse till noon, and
sate there watching the wrecks of our army defile along the road before
us. It was a soul-harrowing sight! Yet the different arms of the service
had resumed a certain degree of order amid their disorder; and our
General, feeling his strength revive, resolved to follow a strong
column of cavalry which was taking the direction of Beaumont, about four
leagues off. We drew near Beaumont, when suddenly a regiment of horse
was seen debouching from a wood on our left. The column that we followed
shouted out, 'The Prussians! the Prussians!' and galloped off in utter
disorder. The troops that thus alarmed them were not a tenth part of
their number, and were in reality our own 8th Hussars, who wore
green uniforms. But the panic had been brought even thus far from the
battle-field, and the disorganized column galloped into Beaumont, which
was already crowded with our infantry. We were obliged to follow that
DEBACLE. On entering Beaumont we chose a house of superior appearance,
and demanded of the mistress of it refreshments for the General. 'Alas!'
said the lady, 'this is the tenth General who has been to this house
since this morning. I have nothing left. Search, if you please, and
see.' Though unable to find food for the General, I persuaded him to
take his coat off and let me examine his wound. The bullet had gone
through the twists of the left epaulette, and penetrating the skin, had
run round the shoulder without injuring the bone. The lady of the house
made some lint for me; and without any great degree of surgical skill I
succeeded in dressing the wound.

"Being still anxious to procure some food for the General and
ourselves, if it were but a loaf of ammunition bread, I left the house
and rode out into the town. I saw pillage going on in every direction:
open caissons, stripped and half-broken, blocked up the streets. The
pavement was covered with plundered and torn baggage. Pillagers and
runaways, such were all the comrades I met with. Disgusted at them, I
strove, sword in hand, to stop one of the plunderers; but, more active
than I, he gave me a bayonet stab in my left arm, in which I fortunately
caught his thrust, which had been aimed full at my body. He disappeared
among the crowd, through which I could not force my horse. My spirit of
discipline had made me forget that in such circumstances the soldier is
a mere wild beast. But to be wounded by a fellow-countryman after
having passed unharmed through all the perils of Quatre Bras and
Waterloo!--this did seem hard, indeed. I was trying to return to General
Foy, when another horde of flyers burst into Beaumont, swept me into the
current of their flight, and hurried me out of the town with them. Until
I received my wound I had preserved my moral courage in full force; but
now, worn out with fatigue, covered with blood, and suffering
severe pain from the wound, I own that I gave way to the general
demoralisation, and let myself be inertly borne along with the rushing
mass. At last I reached Landrecies, though I know not how or when. But
I found there our Colonel Hurday, who had been left behind there in
consequence of an accidental injury from a carriage. He took me with
him to Paris, where I retired amid my family, and got cured of my wound,
knowing nothing of the rest of political and military events that were
taking place."

No returns ever were made of the amount of the French loss in the battle
of Waterloo; but it must have been immense, and may be partially judged
of by the amount of killed and wounded in the armies of the conquerors.
On this subject both the Prussian and British official evidence is
unquestionably full and authentic. The figures are terribly emphatic.

Of the army that fought under the Duke of Wellington nearly 15,000 men
were killed and wounded on this single day of battle. Seven thousand
Prussians also fell at Waterloo. At such a fearful price was the
deliverance of Europe purchased.

By none was the severity of that loss more keenly felt than by our great
deliverer himself. As may be seen in Major Macready's narrative, the
Duke, while the battle was raging, betrayed no sign of emotion at
the most ghastly casualties; but, when all was over, the sight of the
carnage with which the field was covered, and still more, the sickening
spectacle of the agonies of the wounded men who lay moaning in their
misery by thousands and tens of thousands, weighed heavily on the spirit
of the victor, as he rode back across the scene of strife. On reaching
his head-quarters in the village of Waterloo, the Duke inquired
anxiously after the numerous friends who had been round him in the
morning, and to whom he was warmly attached. Many he was told were dead;
others were lying alive, but mangled and suffering, in the houses
round him. It is in our hero's own words alone that his feelings can be
adequately told. In a letter written by him almost immediately after his
return from the field, he thus expressed himself:--"My heart is broken
by the terrible loss I have sustained in my old friends and companions,
and my poor soldiers. Believe me, nothing except a battle lost, can
be half so melancholy as a battle won; the bravery of my troops has
hitherto saved me from the greater evil; but to win such a battle as
this of Waterloo, at the expense of so many gallant friends, could only
be termed a heavy misfortune but for the result to the public."

It is not often that a successful General in modern warfare is called
on, like the victorious commander of the ancient Greek armies, to award
a prize of superior valour to one of his soldiers. Such was to some
extent the case with respect to the battle of Waterloo. In the August
of 1818, an English clergyman offered to confer a small annuity on some
Waterloo soldier, to be named by the Duke. [Siborne, vol. i. p. 391.]
The Duke requested Sir John Byng to choose a man from the 2d Brigade
of Guards, which had so highly distinguished itself in the defence of
Hougoumont. There were many gallant candidates, but the election fell
on Sergeant James Graham, of the light company of the Coldstreams. This
brave man had signalised himself, throughout the day, in the defence of
that important post, and especially in the critical struggle that
took place at the period when the French, who had gained the wood, the
orchard, and detached garden, succeeded in bursting open a gate of
the courtyard of the chateau itself, and rushed in in large masses,
confident of carrying all before them. A hand-to-hand fight, of the most
desperate character, was kept up between them and the Guards for a few
minutes; but at last the British bayonets prevailed. Nearly all the
Frenchmen who had forced their way in were killed on the spot; and,
as the few survivors ran back, five of the Guards, Colonel Macdonnell,
Captain Wyndham, Ensign Gooch, Ensign Hervey, and Sergeant Graham, by
sheer strength, closed the gate again, in spite of the efforts of the
French from without, and effectually barricaded it against further
assaults. Over and through the loopholed wall of the courtyard, the
English garrison now kept up a deadly fire of musketry, which was
fiercely answered by the French, who swarmed round the curtilage like
ravening wolves. Shells, too, from their batteries, were falling fast
into the besieged place, one of which set part of the mansion and some
of the out-buildings on fire. Graham, who was at this time standing
near Colonel Macdonnell at the wall, and who had shown the most perfect
steadiness and courage, now asked permission of his commanding officer
to retire for a moment. Macdonnell replied, "By all means, Graham; but
I wonder you should ask leave now." Graham answered, "I would not, sir,
only my brother is wounded, and he is in that out-building there, which
has just caught fire." Laying down his musket, Graham ran to the blazing
spot, lifted up his brother, and laid him in a ditch. Then he was back
at his post, and was plying his musket against the French again, before
his absence was noticed, except by his colonel.

Many anecdotes of individual prowess have been preserved: but of all
the brave men who were in the British army on that eventful day, none
deserve more honour for courage and indomitable resolution than Sir
Thomas Picton, who, as has been mentioned, fell in repulsing the great
attack of the French upon the British left centre. It was not until the
dead body was examined after the battle, that the full heroism of Picton
was discerned. He had been wounded on the 16th, at Quatre Bras, by a
musket-ball, which had broken two of his ribs, and caused also severe
internal injuries; but he had concealed the circumstance, evidently in
expectation that another and greater battle would be fought in a short
time, and desirous to avoid being solicited to absent himself from the
field. His body was blackened and swollen by the wound, which must have
caused severe and incessant pain; and it was marvellous how his spirit
had borne him up, and enabled him to take part in the fatigues and
duties of the field. The bullet which, on the 18th, killed the renowned
loader of "the fighting Division" of the Peninsula, entered the head
near the left temple, and passed through the brain; so that Picton's
death must have been instantaneous.

One of the most interesting narratives of personal adventure at
Waterloo, is that of Colonel Frederick Ponsonby, of the 12th Light
Dragoons, who was severely wounded when Vandeleur's brigade, to which he
belonged, attacked the French lancers, in order to bring off the Union
Brigade, which was retiring from its memorable charge. [See p. 361,
SUPRA.] The 12th, like those whom they rescued, advanced much further
against the French position than prudence warranted. Ponsonby, with many
others, was speared by a reserve of Polish lancers, and left for dead
on the field. It is well to refer to the description of what he suffered
(as he afterwards gave it, when almost miraculously recovered from his
numerous wounds), because his fate, or worse, was the fate of thousands
more; and because the narrative of the pangs of an individual, with whom
we can identify ourselves, always comes more home to us than a general
description of the miseries of whole masses. His tale may make us
remember what are the horrors of war as well as its glories. It is to
be remembered that the operations which he refers to, took place about
three o'clock in the day, and that the fighting went on for at least
five hours more. After describing how he and his men charged through the
French whom they first encountered, and went against other enemies, he
states:--

"We had no sooner passed them than we were ourselves attacked before
we could form, by about 300 Polish lancers, who had hastened to their
relief; the French artillery pouring in among us a heavy fire of grape,
though for one of our men they killed three of their own.

"In the MELEE I was almost instantly disabled in both arms, losing
first my sword, and then my reins, and followed by a few men, who were
presently cut down, no quarter being allowed, asked or given, I was
carried along by my horse, till, receiving a blow from a sabre, I fell
senseless on my face to the ground.

"Recovering, I raised myself a little to look round, being at that time,
I believe, in a condition to get up and run away; when a lancer passing
by, cried out, 'Tu n'est pas mort, coquin!' and struck his lance through
my back. My head dropped, the blood gushed into my mouth, a difficulty
of breathing came on, and I thought all was over.

"Not long afterwards (it was impossible to measure time, but I must have
fallen in less than ten minutes after the onset), a tirailleur
stopped to plunder me, threatening my life. I directed him to a
small side-pocket, in which he found three dollars, all I had; but
he continued to threaten, and I said he might search me: this he did
immediately, unloosing my stock and tearing open my waistcoat, and
leaving me in a very uneasy posture.

"But he was no sooner gone, than an officer bringing up some troops,
to which probably the tirailleur belonged and happening to halt where
I lay, stooped down and addressed me, saying, he feared I was badly
wounded; I said that I was, and expressed a wish to be removed to the
rear. He said it was against their orders to remove even their own men;
but that if they gained the day (and he understood that the Duke of
Wellington was killed, and that some of our battalions had surrendered),
every attention in his power would be shown me. I complained of thirst,
and he held his brandy-bottle to my lips, directing one of the soldiers
to lay me straight on my side, and place a knapsack under my head. He
then passed on into action--soon, perhaps, to want, though not receive,
the same assistance; and I shall never know to whose generosity I was
indebted, as I believe, for my life. Of what rank he was, I cannot say:
he wore a great coat. By-and-by another tirailleur came up, a fine
young man, full of ardour. He knelt down and fired over me, loading and
firing many times, and conversing with me all the while." The Frenchman,
with strange coolness, informed Ponsonby of how he was shooting, and
what he thought of the progress of the battle. "At last he ran off,
exclaiming, 'You will probably not be sorry to hear that we are going
to retreat. Good day, my friend.' It was dusk," Ponsonby adds, "when two
squadrons of Prussian cavalry, each of them two deep, came across the
valley, and passed over me in full trot, lifting me from the ground,
and tumbling me about cruelly. The clatter of of their approach and the
apprehensions they excited, may be imagined; a gun taking that direction
must have destroyed me.

"The battle was now at an end, or removed to a distance. The shouts,
the imprecations, the outcries of 'Vive l'Empereur!' the discharge of
musketry and cannon, were over; and the groans of the wounded all around
me, became every moment more and more audible. I thought the night would
never end.

"Much about this time I found a soldier of the Royals lying across my
legs: he had probably crawled thither in his agony; and his weight, his
convulsive motions, and the air issuing through a wound in his side,
distressed me greatly; the last circumstance most of all, as I had
a wound of the same nature myself. It was not a dark night, and the
Prussians were wandering about to plunder; the scene in Ferdinand Count
Fathom came into my mind, though no women appeared. Several stragglers
looked at me, as they passed by, one after another, and at last one of
them stopped to examine me. I told him as well as I could, for I spoke
German very imperfectly, that I was a British officer, and had been
plundered already; he did not desist, however, and pulled me about
roughly.

"An hour before midnight I saw a man in an English uniform walking
towards me. He was, I suspect, on the same errand, and he came and
looked in my face. I spoke instantly, telling him who I was, and
assuring him of a reward if he would remain by me. He said he belonged
to the 40th, and had missed his regiment; he released me from the dying
soldier, and being unarmed, took up a sword from the ground, and stood
over me, pacing backwards and forwards.

"Day broke; and at six o'clock in the morning some English were seen at
a distance, and he ran to them. A messenger being sent off to Hervey, a
cart came for me, and I was placed in it, and carried to the village
of Waterloo, a mile and a half off, and laid in the bed from which as I
understood afterwards, Gordon had been just carried out. I had received
seven wounds; a surgeon slept in my room, and I was saved by excessive
bleeding."

Major Macready, in the journal already cited, [See SUPRA. p. 368.]
justly praises the deep devotion to their Emperor which, marked the
French at Waterloo. Never, indeed, had the national bravery of the
French people been more nobly shown. One soldier in the French ranks was
seen, when his arm was shattered by a cannon-ball, to wrench it off with
the other; and throwing it up in the air, he exclaimed to his comrades,
"Vive l'Empereur jusqu'a la mort!" Colonel Lemonnier-Delafosse mentions
in his Memoirs, [Page 388.] that at the beginning of the action, a
French soldier who had had both legs carried off by a cannon-ball,
was borne past the front of Foy's division, and called out to them, "Ca
n'est rien, camarades; Vive l'Empereur! Gloire a la France!" The same
officer, at the end of the battle, when all hope was lost, tells us that
he saw a French grenadier, blackened with powder, and with his clothes
torn and stained, leaning on his musket, and immoveable as a statue.
The colonel called to him to join his comrades and retreat; but the
grenadier showed him his musket and his hands; and said, "These
hands have with this musket used to-day more than twenty packets of
cartridges: it was more than my share: I supplied myself with ammunition
from the dead. Leave me to die here on the field of battle. It is not
courage that fails me, but strength." Then, as Colonel Delafosse left
him, the soldier stretched himself on the ground to meet his fate,
exclaiming, "Tout est perdu! pauvre France!" The gallantry of the French
officers at least equalled that of their men. Ney, in particular, set
the example of the most daring courage. Here, as in every French army
in which he ever served or commanded, he was "le brave des braves."
Throughout the day he was in the front of the battle; and was one of the
very last Frenchmen who quitted the field. His horse was killed under
him in the last attack made on the English position; but he was seen
on foot, his clothes torn with bullets, his face smirched with powder,
striving, sword in hand, first to urge his men forward, and at last to
check their flight.

There was another brave general of the French army, whose valour and
good conduct on that day of disaster to his nation should never be
unnoticed when the story of Waterloo is recounted. This was General
Polet, who, about seven in the evening, led the first battalion of the
2d regiment of the Chasseurs of the Guard to the defence of Planchenoit;
and on whom Napoleon personally urged the deep importance of maintaining
possession of that village. Pelet and his men took their post in the
central part of the village, and occupied the church and churchyard in
great strength. There they repelled every assault of the Prussians,
who in rapidly increasing numbers rushed forward with infuriated
pertinacity. They held their post till the utter rout of the main army
of their comrades was apparent, and the victorious Allies were thronging
around Planchenoit. When Pelet and his brave chasseurs quitted the
churchyard, and retired with steady march, though they suffered
fearfully from the moment they left their shelter, and Prussian cavalry
as well as infantry dashed fiercely after them. Pelet kept together a
little knot of 250 veterans, and had the eagle covered over, and borne
along in the midst of them. At one time the inequality of the ground
caused his ranks to open a little; and in an instant the Prussian
horseman were on them, and striving to capture the eagle. Captain
Siborne relates the conduct of Pelet with the admiration worthy of one
brave soldier for another:--

"Pelet, taking advantage of a spot of ground which afforded them some
degree of cover against the fire of grape by which they were constantly
assailed, halted the standard-bearer, and called out, "A moi chasseurs!
sauvons l'aigle ou mourons autour d'elle!" The chasseurs immediately
pressed around him, forming what is usually termed the rallying square,
and, lowering their bayonets, succeeded in repulsing the charge of
cavalry. Some guns were then brought to bear upon them, and subsequently
a brisk fire of musketry; but notwithstanding the awful sacrifice which
was thus offered up in defence of their precious charge, they succeeded
in reaching the main line of retreat, favoured by the universal
confusion, as also by the general obscurity which now prevailed; and
thus saved alike the eagle and the honour of the regiment."

French writers do injustice to their own army and general, when they
revive malignant calumnies against Wellington, and speak of his having
blundered into victory. No blunderer could have successfully encountered
such troops as those of Napoleon, and under such a leader. It is
superfluous to cite against these cavils the testimony which other
continental critics have borne to the high military genius of our
illustrious chief. I refer to one only, which is of peculiar value, on
account of the quarter whence it comes. It is that of the great German
writer Niebuhr, whose accurate acquaintance with every important scene
of modern as well as ancient history was unparalleled: and who was no
mere pedant, but a man practically versed in active life, and had been
personally acquainted with most of the leading men in the great events
of the early part of this century. Niebuhr, in the passage which I
allude to, [Roman History, vol. v. p. 17.] after referring to the
military "blunders" of Mithridates, Frederick the Great, Napoleon,
Pyrrhus, and Hannibal, uses these remarkable words, "The Duke of
Wellington is, I believe, the only general in whose conduct of war we
cannot discover any important mistake." Not that it is to be supposed
that the Duke's merits were simply of a negative order, or that he was
merely a cautious, phlegmatic general fit only for defensive warfare,
as some recent French historians have described him. On the contrary,
he was bold even to audacity when boldness was required. "The intrepid
advance and fight at Assaye, the crossing of the Douro, and the movement
on Talavera in 1809, the advance to Madrid and Burgos in 1812, the
actions before Bayonne in 1813, and the desperate stand made at Waterloo
itself, when more tamely-prudent generals would have retreated beyond
Brussels, place this beyond a doubt." [See the admirable parallel of
Wellington and Marlborough at the end of Sir Archibald Alison's "Life of
the Duke of Marlborough." Sir Archibald justly considers Wellington the
more daring general of the two.]

The overthrow of the French military power at Waterloo was so complete,
that the subsequent events of the brief campaign have little interest.
Lamartine truly says: "This defeat left nothing undecided in future
events, for victory had given judgment. The war began and ended in a
single battle." Napoleon himself recognised instantly and fully the
deadly nature of the blow which had been dealt to his empire. In his
flight from the battle-field he first halted at Charleroi, but the
approach of the pursuing Prussians drove him thence before he had rested
there an hour. With difficulty getting clear of the wrecks of his own
army, he reached Philippeville, where he remained a few hours, and sent
orders to the French generals in the various extremities of France to
converge with their troops upon Paris. He ordered Soult to collect
the fugitives of his own force, and lead them to Laon. He then hurried
forward to Paris, and reached his capital before the news of his own
defeat. But the stern truth soon transpired. At the demand of the
Chambers of Peers and Representatives, he abandoned the throne by a
second and final abdication on the 22d of June. On the 29th of June he
left the neighbourhood of Paris, and proceeded to Rochefort in the hope
of escaping to America; but the coast was strictly watched, and on the
15th of July the ex-emperor surrendered himself on board of the English
man-of-war the Bellerophon.

Meanwhile the allied armies had advanced steadily upon Paris, driving
before them Grouchy's corps, and the scanty force which Soult had
succeeded in rallying at Laon. Cambray, Peronne, and other fortresses
were speedily captured; and by the 29th of June the invaders were taking
their positions in front of Paris. The Provisional Government, which
acted in the French capital after the Emperor's abdication, opened
negotiations with the allied chiefs. Blucher, in his quenchless hatred
of the French, was eager to reject all proposals for a suspension of
hostilities, and to assault and storm the city. But the sager and
calmer spirit of Wellington prevailed over his colleague; the entreated
armistice was granted; and on the 3d of July the capitulation of Paris
terminated the War of the Battle of Waterloo.

In closing our observations on this the last of the Decisive Battles of
the World, it is pleasing to contrast the year which it signalized with
the year that is now [Written in June 1851.] passing over our heads. We
have not (and long may we be without) the stern excitement of martial
strife, and we see no captive standards of our European neighbours
brought in triumph to our shrines. But we behold an infinitely prouder
spectacle. We see the banners of every civilized nation waving over the
arena of our competition with each other, in the arts that minister
to our race's support and happiness, and not to its suffering and
destruction.

     "Peace hath her victories
      No less renowned than War;"

and no battle-field ever witnessed a victory more noble than that which
England, under her Sovereign Lady and her Royal Prince, is now teaching
the peoples of the earth to achieve over selfish prejudices and
international feuds, in the great cause of the general promotion of the
industry and welfare of mankind.