Part 44

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

SEVEN O’CLOCK.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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