There might be a difference of opinion in a mere military question, whether the English general ought to have hazarded a battle for the defence of Brussels, or whether, falling back on the strong city of Antwerp, it might have been safer to wait the arrival of the reinforcements which were in expectation. But in a moral and political point of view, the protecting Brussels was of the last importance. Napoleon has declared, that, had he gained the battle of Waterloo, he had the means of revolutionizing Belgium;[141] and although he was doubtless too sanguine in this declaration, yet unquestionably the French had many partisans in a country which they had so long possessed. The gaining of the battle of Ligny had no marked results, still less had the indecisive action at Quatre-bras; but had these been followed by the retreat of the English army to Antwerp, and the capture of Brussels, the capital city of the Netherlands, they would then have attained the rank of great and decisive victories.

Napoleon, indeed, pretended to look to still more triumphant results from such a victory, and to expect nothing less than the dissolution of the European Alliance as the reward of a decided defeat of the English in Belgium. So long as it was not mentioned by what means this was to be accomplished, those who had no less confidence in Napoleon's intrigues than his military talents, must have supposed that he had already in preparation among the foreign powers some deep scheme, tending to sap the foundation of their alliance, and ready to be carried into action when he should attain a certain point of success. But when it is explained that these extensive expectations rested on Napoleon's belief that a single defeat of the Duke of Wellington would occasion a total change of government in England; that the statesmen of the Opposition would enter into office as a thing of course, and instantly conclude a peace with him;[142] and that the coalition, thus deprived of subsidies, must therefore instantly withdraw the armies which were touching the French frontier on its whole northern and eastern line—Napoleon's extravagant speculations can only serve to show how very little he must have known of the English nation, with which he had been fighting so long. The war with France had been prosecuted more than twenty years, and though many of these were years of bad success and defeat, the nation had persevered in a resistance which terminated at last in complete triumph. The national opinion of the great general who led the British troops, was too strongly rooted to give way upon a single misfortune; and the event of the campaign of 1814, in which Napoleon, repeatedly victorious, was at length totally defeated and dethroned, would have encouraged a more fickle people than the English to continue the war notwithstanding a single defeat, if such an event had unhappily occurred. The Duke had the almost impregnable fortress and seaport of Antwerp in his rear, and might have waited there the reinforcements from America. Blucher had often shown how little he was disheartened by defeat; at worst, he would have fallen back on a Russian army of 200,000 men, who were advancing on the Rhine. The hopes, therefore, that the battle of Waterloo, if gained by the French, would have finished the war, must be abandoned as visionary, whether we regard the firm and manly character of the great personage at the head of the British monarchy, the state of parties in the House of Commons, where many distinguished members of the Opposition had joined the Ministry on the question of the war, or the general feeling of the country, who saw with resentment the new irruption of Napoleon. It cannot, however, be denied, that any success gained by Napoleon in this first campaign, would have greatly added to his influence both in France and other countries, and might have endangered the possession of Flanders. The Duke of Wellington resolved, therefore, to protect Brussels, if possible, even by the risk of a general action.

By the march from Quatre-bras to Waterloo, the Duke had restored his communication with Blucher, which had been dislocated by the retreat of the Prussians to Wavre. When established there, Blucher was once more upon the same line with the British, the distance between the Prussian right flank, and the British left, being about five leagues, or five leagues and a half. The ground which lay between the two extreme points, called the heights of St. Lambert, was exceedingly rugged and wooded; and the cross-roads which traversed it, forming the sole means of communication between the English and Prussians, were dreadfully broken up by the late tempestuous weather.

The duke despatched intelligence of his position in front of Waterloo to Prince Blucher, acquainting him at the same time with his resolution to give Napoleon the battle which he seemed to desire, providing the prince would afford him the support of two divisions of the Prussian army. The answer was worthy of the indefatigable and indomitable old man, who was never so much disconcerted by defeat as to prevent his being willing and ready for combat on the succeeding day. He sent for reply, that he would move to the Duke of Wellington's support, not with two divisions only, but with his whole army; and that he asked no time to prepare for the movement, longer than was necessary to supply food and serve out cartridges to his soldiers.

It was three o'clock on the afternoon of the 17th,[143] when the British came on the field, and took up their bivouac for the night in the order of battle in which they were to fight the next day. It was much later before Napoleon reached the heights of Belle Alliance in person, and his army did not come up in full force till the morning of the 18th. Great part of the French had passed the night in the little village of Genappe, and Napoleon's own quarters had been at the farm-house called Caillou, about a mile in the rear of La Belle Alliance.

In the morning, when Napoleon had formed his line of battle, his brother Jerome, to whom he ascribed the possession of very considerable military talents, commanded on the left—Counts Reille and D'Erlon the centre—and Count Lobau on the right. MarÉchals Soult and Ney acted as lieutenant-generals to the Emperor. The French force on the field consisted probably of about 75,000 men. The English army did not exceed that number, at the highest computation. Each army was commanded by the chief, under whom they had offered to defy the world. So far the forces were equal. But the French had the very great advantage of being trained and experienced soldiers of the same nation, whereas the English, in the Duke of Wellington's army, did not exceed 35,000; and although the German Legion were veteran troops, the other soldiers under his command were those of the German contingents, lately levied, unaccustomed to act together, and in some instances suspected to be lukewarm to the cause in which they were engaged; so that it would have been imprudent to trust more to their assistance and co-operation than could possibly be avoided. In Buonaparte's mode of calculating, allowing one Frenchman to stand as equal to one Englishman, and one Englishman or Frenchman against two of any other nation, the inequality of force on the Duke of Wellington's side was very considerable.

The British army thus composed, was divided into two lines. The right of the first line consisted of the second and fourth English divisions, the third and sixth Hanoverians, and the first corps of Belgians, under Lord Hill. The centre was composed of the corps of the Prince of Orange, with the Brunswickers and troops of Nassau, having the guards, under General Cooke, on the right, and the division of General Alten on the left. The left wing consisted of the divisions of Picton, Lambert, and Kempt. The second line was in most instances formed of the troops deemed least worthy of confidence, or which had suffered too severely in the action of the 16th to be again exposed until extremity. It was placed behind the declivity of the heights to the rear, in order to be sheltered from the cannonade, but sustained much loss from shells during the action. The cavalry were stationed in the rear, distributed all along the line, but chiefly posted on the left of the centre, to the east of the Charleroi causeway. The farm-house of La Haye Sainte, in the front of the centre, was garrisoned, but there was not time to prepare it effectually for defence. The villa, gardens, and farm-yard of Hougomont formed a strong advanced post towards the centre of the right. The whole British position formed a sort of curve, the centre of which was nearest to the enemy, and the extremities, particularly on their right, drawn considerably backward.

The plans of these two great generals were extremely simple. The object of the Duke of Wellington was to maintain his line of defence, until the Prussians coming up, should give him a decided superiority of force. They were expected about eleven or twelve o'clock; but the extreme badness of the roads, owing to the violence of the storm, detained them several hours later.

Napoleon's scheme was equally plain and decided. He trusted by his usual rapidity of attack, to break and destroy the British army before the Prussians should arrive in the field; after which, he calculated to have an opportunity of destroying the Prussians, by attacking them on their march through the broken ground interposed betwixt them and the British. In these expectations he was the more confident, that he believed Grouchy's force, detached on the 17th in pursuit of Blucher, was sufficient to retard, if not altogether to check, the march of the Prussians. His grounds for entertaining this latter opinion, were, as we shall afterwards show, too hastily adopted.

Commencing the action according to his usual system, Napoleon kept his guard in reserve, in order to take opportunity of charging with them, when repeated attacks of column after column, and squadron after squadron, should induce his wearied enemy to show some symptoms of irresolution. But Napoleon's movements were not very rapid. His army had suffered by the storm even more than the English, who were in bivouac at three in the afternoon of the 17th June; while the French were still under march, and could not get into line on the heights of La Belle Alliance until ten or eleven o'clock of the 18th. The English army had thus some leisure to take food, and to prepare their arms before the action; and Napoleon lost several hours ere he could commence the attack. Time was, indeed, inestimably precious for both parties, and hours, nay, minutes, were of importance. But of this Napoleon was less aware than was the Duke of Wellington.

The tempest which had raged with tropical violence all night, abated in the morning; but the weather continued gusty and stormy during the whole day. Betwixt eleven and twelve, before noon, on the memorable 18th June, this dreadful and decisive action commenced, with a cannonade on the part of the French, instantly followed by an attack, commanded by Jerome, on the advanced post of Hougomont. The troops of Nassau, which occupied the wood around the chateau, were driven out by the French, but the utmost efforts of the assailants were unable to force the house, garden, and farm offices, which a party of the guards sustained with the most dauntless resolution. The French redoubled their efforts, and precipitated themselves in numbers on the exterior hedge, which screens the garden-wall, not perhaps aware of the internal defence afforded by the latter. They fell in great numbers on this point by the fire of the defenders, to which they were exposed in every direction. The number of their troops, however, enabled them, by possession of the wood, to mask Hougomont for a time, and to push on with their cavalry and artillery against the British right, which formed in squares to receive them. The fire was incessant, but without apparent advantage on either side. The attack was at length repelled so far, that the British again opened their communication with Hougomont, and that important garrison was reinforced by Colonel Hepburn and a body of the guards.

Meantime, the fire of artillery having become general along the line, the force of the French attack was transferred to the British centre. It was made with the most desperate fury, and received with the most stubborn resolution. The assault was here made upon the farm-house of Saint Jean by four columns of infantry, and a large mass of cuirassiers, who took the advance. The cuirassiers came with the utmost intrepidity along the Genappe causeway, where they were encountered and charged by the English heavy cavalry; and a combat was maintained at the sword's point, till the French were driven back on their own position, where they were protected by their artillery. The four columns of French infantry, engaged in the same attack, forced their way forward beyond the farm of La Haye Sainte, and dispersing a Belgian regiment, were in the act of establishing themselves in the centre of the British position, when they were attacked by the brigade of General Pack, brought up from the second line by General Picton, while, at the same time, a brigade of British heavy cavalry wheeled round their own infantry, and attacked the French charging columns in flank, at the moment when they were checked by the fire of the musketry. The results were decisive. The French columns were broken with great slaughter, and two eagles, with more than 2000 men, were made prisoners. The latter were sent instantly off for Brussels.

The British cavalry, however, followed their success too far. They got involved amongst the French infantry and some hostile cavalry which were detached to support them, and were obliged to retire with considerable loss. In this part of the action, the gallant General Picton, so distinguished for enterprise and bravery, met his death, as did General Ponsonby, who commanded the cavalry.

About this period the French made themselves masters of the farm of La Haye Sainte, cutting to pieces about two hundred Hanoverian sharpshooters, by whom it was most gallantly defended. The French retained this post for some time, till they were at last driven out of it by shells.

Shortly after this event, the scene of conflict again shifted to the right, where a general attack of French cavalry was made on the squares, chiefly towards the centre of the British right, or between that and the causeway. They came up with the most dauntless resolution, in despite of the continued fire of thirty pieces of artillery, placed in front of the line, and compelled the artillerymen, by whom they were served, to retreat within the squares. The enemy had no means, however, to secure the guns, or even to spike them, and at every favourable moment the British artillerymen sallied from their place of refuge, again manned their pieces, and fired on the assailants—a manoeuvre which seems peculiar to the British service.[144] The cuirassiers, however, continued their dreadful onset, and rode up to the squares in the full confidence, apparently, of sweeping them before the impetuosity of their charge. Their onset and reception was like a furious ocean pouring itself against a chain of insulated rocks. The British squares stood unmoved, and never gave fire until the cavalry were within ten yards, when men rolled one way, horses galloped another, and the cuirassiers were in every instance driven back.

The French authors have pretended that squares were broken, and colours taken; but this assertion, upon the united testimony of every British officer present, is a positive untruth. This was not, however, the fault of the cuirassiers, who displayed an almost frantic valour. They rallied again and again, and returned to the onset, till the British could recognise even the faces of individuals among their enemies. Some rode close up to the bayonets, fired their pistols, and cut with their swords with reckless and useless valour. Some stood at gaze, and were destroyed by the musketry and artillery. Some squadrons, passing through the intervals of the first line, charged the squares of Belgians posted there, with as little success. At length the cuirassiers suffered so severely on every hand, that they were compelled to abandon the attempt, which they had made with such intrepid and desperate courage. In this unheard-of struggle, the greater part of the French heavy cavalry were absolutely destroyed. Buonaparte hints at it in his bulletin as an attempt made without orders, and continued only by the desperate courage of the soldiers and their officers.[145] It is certain that, in the destruction of this noble body of cuirassiers, he lost the corps which might have been most effectual in covering his retreat. After the broken remains of this fine cavalry were drawn off, the French confined themselves for a time to a heavy cannonade, from which the British sheltered themselves in part by lying down on the ground, while the enemy prepared for an attack on another quarter, and to be conducted in a different manner.

It was now about six o'clock, and during this long succession of the most furious attacks, the French had gained no success save occupying for a time the wood around Hougomont, from which they had been expelled, and the farm house of La Haye Sainte, which had been also recovered. The British, on the other hand, had suffered very severely, but had not lost one inch of ground, save the two posts, now regained. Ten thousand men were, however, killed and wounded; some of the foreign regiments had given way, though others had shown the most desperate valour. And the ranks were thinned both by the actual fugitives, and by the absence of individuals, who left the bloody field for the purpose of carrying off the wounded, and some of whom might naturally be in no hurry to return to so fatal a scene.

But the French, besides losing about 15,000 men, together with a column of prisoners more than 2000 in number, began now to be disturbed by the operations of the Prussians on their right flank; and the secret of the Duke of Wellington was disclosing itself by its consequences. Blucher, faithful to his engagement, had, early in the morning, put in motion Bulow's division, which had not been engaged at Ligny, to communicate with the English army, and operate a diversion on the right flank and rear of the French. But although there were only about twelve or fourteen miles between Wavre and the field of Waterloo, yet the march was, by unavoidable circumstances, much delayed. The rugged face of the country, together with the state of the roads, so often referred to, offered the most serious obstacles to the progress of the Prussians, especially as they moved with an unusually large train of artillery. A fire, also, which broke out in Wavre, on the morning of the 18th, prevented Bulow's corps from marching through that town, and obliged them to pursue a circuitous and inconvenient route. After traversing, with great difficulty, the cross-roads by Chapelle Lambert, Bulow, with the 4th Prussian corps, who had been expected by the Duke of Wellington about eleven o'clock, announced his arrival by a distant fire, about half-past four. The first Prussian corps, following the same route with Bulow, was yet later in coming up. The second division made a lateral movement in the same direction as the fourth and first, but by the hamlet of Ohain, nearer to the English flank. The Emperor instantly opposed to Bulow, who appeared long before the others, the 6th French corps, which he had kept in reserve for that service; and, as only the advanced guard was come up, they succeeded in keeping the Prussians in check for the moment. The first and second Prussian corps appeared on the field still later than the fourth. The third corps had put themselves in motion to follow in the same direction, when they were furiously attacked by the French under MarÉchal Grouchy, who, as already stated, was detached to engage the attention of Blucher, whose whole force he believed he had before him.

Instead of being surprised, as an ordinary general might have been, with this attack upon his rear, Blucher contented himself with sending back orders to Thielman, who commanded the third corps, to defend himself as well as he could upon the line of the Dyle. In the meantime, without weakening the army under his own command, by detaching any part of it to support Thielman, the veteran rather hastened than suspended his march towards the field of battle, where he was aware that the war was likely to be decided in a manner so complete, as would leave victory or defeat on every other point a matter of subordinate consideration.

At half-past six, or thereabouts, the second grand division of the Prussian army began to enter into communication with the British left, by the village of Ohain, while Bulow pressed forward from Chapelle Lambert on the French right and rear, by a hollow, or valley, called Frischemont. It became now evident that the Prussians were to enter seriously into the battle, and with great force. Napoleon had still the means of opposing them, and of achieving a retreat, at the certainty, however, of being attacked upon the ensuing day by the combined armies of Britain and Prussia. His celebrated Guard had not yet taken any part in the conflict, and would now have been capable of affording him protection after a battle which, hitherto, he had fought at disadvantage, but without being defeated. But the circumstances by which he was surrounded must have pressed on his mind at once. He had no succours to look for; a reunion with Grouchy was the only resource which could strengthen his forces; the Russians were advancing upon the Rhine with forced marches; the Republicans at Paris were agitating schemes against his authority. It seemed as if all must be decided on that day, and on that field. Surrounded by these ill-omened circumstances, a desperate effort for victory, ere the Prussians could act effectually, might perhaps yet drive the English from their position; and he determined to venture on this daring experiment.

About seven o'clock, Napoleon's Guard were formed in two columns, under his own eye, near the bottom of the declivity of La Belle Alliance. They were put under command of the dauntless Ney. Buonaparte told the soldiers, and, indeed, imposed the same fiction on their commander, that the Prussians whom they saw on the right were retreating before Grouchy. Perhaps he might himself believe that this was true. The Guard answered, for the last time, with shouts of Vive l'Empereur, and moved resolutely forward, having, for their support, four battalions of the Old Guard in reserve, who stood prepared to protect the advance of their comrades. A gradual change had taken place in the English line of battle, in consequence of the repeated repulse of the French. Advancing by slow degrees, the right, which at the beginning of the conflict, presented a segment of a convex circle, now resembled one that was concave, the extreme right, which had been thrown back, being now rather brought forward, so that their fire both of artillery and infantry fell upon the flank of the French, who had also to sustain that which was poured on their front from the heights. The British were arranged in a line of four men deep, to meet the advancing columns of the French Guard, and poured upon them a storm of musketry which never ceased an instant. The soldiers fired independently, as it is called; each man loading and discharging his piece as fast as he could. At length the British moved forward, as if to close round the heads of the columns, and at the same time continued to pour their shot upon the enemy's flanks. The French gallantly attempted to deploy, for the purpose of returning the discharge; but in their effort to do so, under so dreadful a fire, they stopt, staggered, became disordered, were blended into one mass, and at length gave way, retiring, or rather flying, in the utmost confusion. This was the last effort of the enemy, and Napoleon gave orders for the retreat; to protect which, he had now no troops left, save the last four battalions of the Old Guard, which had been stationed in the rear of the attacking columns. These threw themselves into squares, and stood firm. But at this moment the Duke of Wellington commanded the whole British line to advance, so that whatever the bravery and skill of these gallant veterans, they also were thrown into disorder, and swept away in the general rout, in spite of the efforts of Ney, who, having had his horse killed, fought sword in hand, and on foot, in the front of the battle, till the very last.[146] That marÉchal, whose military virtues at least cannot be challenged, bore personal evidence against two circumstances, industriously circulated by the friends of Napoleon. One of these fictions occurs in his own bulletin, which charges the loss of the battle to a panic fear, brought about by the treachery of some unknown persons, who raised the cry of "Sauve qui peut."[147] Another figment, greedily credited at Paris, bore, that the four battalions of Old Guard, the last who maintained the semblance of order, answered a summons to surrender, by the magnanimous reply, "The Guard can die, but cannot yield." And one edition of the story adds, that thereupon the battalions made a half wheel inwards, and discharged their muskets into each other's bosoms, to save themselves from dying by the hands of the English. Neither the original reply, nor the pretended self-sacrifice of the Guard, have the slightest foundation. Cambrone, in whose mouth the speech was placed, gave up his sword, and remained prisoner; and the military conduct of the French Guard is better eulogised by the undisputed truth, that they fought to extremity, with the most unyielding constancy, than by imputing to them an act of regimental suicide upon the lost field of battle.[148] Every attribute of brave men they have a just right to claim. It is no compliment to ascribe to them that of madmen. Whether the words were used by Cambrone or no, the Guard well deserved to have them inscribed on their monument.

Whilst this decisive movement took place, Bulow, who had concentrated his troops, and was at length qualified to act in force, carried the village of Planchenois in the French rear, and was now firing so close on their right wing, that the cannonade annoyed the British who were in pursuit, and was suspended in consequence. Moving in oblique lines, the British and Prussian armies came into contact with each other on the heights so lately occupied by the French, and celebrated the victory with loud shouts of mutual congratulation.

The French army was now in total and inextricable confusion and rout; and when the victorious generals met at the farm-house of La Belle Alliance, it was agreed that the Prussians, who were fresh in comparison, should follow up the chase, a duty for which the British, exhausted by the fatigues of a battle of eight hours, were totally inadequate.

During the whole action, Napoleon maintained the utmost serenity. He remained on the heights of La Belle Alliance, keeping pretty near the centre, from which he had a full view of the field, which does not exceed a mile and a half in length. He expressed no solicitude on the fate of the battle for a long time, noticed the behaviour of particular regiments, and praised the English several times, always, however, talking of them as an assured prey. When forming his guard for the last fatal effort, he descended near them, half down the causeway from La Belle Alliance, to bestow upon them what proved his parting exhortation. He watched intently their progress with a spyglass, and refused to listen to one or two aides-de-camp, who at that moment came from the right to inform him of the appearance of the Prussians. At length, on seeing the attacking columns stagger and become confused, his countenance, said our informer, became pale as that of a corpse, and muttering to himself, "They are mingled together," he said to his attendants, "All is lost for the present," and rode off the field; not stopping or taking refreshment till he reached Charleroi, where he paused for a moment in a meadow, and occupied a tent which had been pitched for his accommodation.[149]

Meantime, the pursuit of his discomfited army was followed up by Blucher with the most determined perseverance. He accelerated the march of the Prussian advanced guard, and despatched every man and horse of his cavalry upon the pursuit of the fugitive French. At Genappe they attempted something like defence, by barricading the bridge and streets; but the Prussians forced them in a moment, and although the French were sufficiently numerous for resistance, their disorder was so irremediable, and their moral courage was so absolutely quelled for the moment, that in many cases they were slaughtered like sheep. They were driven from bivouac to bivouac, without exhibiting even the shadow of their usual courage. One hundred and fifty guns were left in the hands of the English, and a like number taken by the Prussians in course of the pursuit. The latter obtained possession also of all Napoleon's baggage, and of his carriage, where, amongst many articles of curiosity, was found a proclamation intended to be made public at Brussels the next day.

The loss on the British side during this dreadful battle was, as the Duke of Wellington, no user of exaggerated expressions, truly termed it, immense. One hundred officers slain, five hundred wounded, many of them to death, fifteen thousand men killed and wounded, (independent of the Prussian loss at Wavre,) threw half Britain into mourning. Many officers of distinction fell. It required all the glory, and all the solid advantages, of this immortal day, to reconcile the mind to the high price at which it was purchased. The commander-in-chief, compelled to be on every point of danger, was repeatedly in the greatest jeopardy. Only the Duke himself, and one gentleman, of his numerous staff, escaped unwounded in horse and person.

It would be difficult to form a guess at the extent of the French loss. Besides those who fell in the battle and flight, great numbers deserted. We do not believe, that of 75,000 men, the half were ever again collected under arms.[150]

Having finished our account of this memorable action, we are led to notice the communications and criticisms of Napoleon himself on the subject, partly as illustrative of the narrative, but much more as indicating his own character.

The account of the battle of Waterloo, dictated by Napoleon to Gourgaud, so severely exposed by General Grouchy[151] as a mere military romance, full of gratuitous suppositions, misrepresentations, and absolute falsehoods, accuses the subordinate generals who fought under Buonaparte of having greatly degenerated from their original character. Ney and Grouchy are particularly aimed at; the former by name, the latter by obvious implication. It is said they had lost that energy and enterprising genius by which they had formerly been distinguished, and to which France owed her triumphs. They had become timorous and circumspect in all their operations; and although their personal bravery remains, their greatest object was to compromise themselves as little as possible. This general remark, intended, of course, to pave the way for transferring from the Emperor to his lieutenants the blame of the miscarriage of the campaign, is both unjust and ungrateful. Had they lost energy, who struggled to the very last in the field of Waterloo, long after the Emperor had left the field? Was Grouchy undecided in his operations, who brought his own division safe to Paris, in spite of all the obstacles opposed to him by a victorious army, three times the amount of his own in numbers? Both these officers had given up, for the sake of Napoleon, the rank and appointments which they might have peacefully borne under the Bourbons. Did it indicate the reluctance to commit themselves, with which they are charged, that they ventured on the decided step of joining his desperate career, not only abandoning all regard to their interest and their safety, but compromising their character as men of loyalty in the face of all Europe, and exposing themselves to certain death, if the Bourbons should be successful? Those who fight with the cord around their neck, which was decidedly the case with Grouchy and Ney, must have headed the forlorn hope; and is it consistent with human nature, in such circumstances, to believe that they, whose fortune and safety depended on the victory, personally brave as they are admitted to be, should have loitered in the rear, when their fate was in the balance?

He who was unjust to his own followers, can scarce be expected to be candid towards an enemy. The Duke of Wellington has, upon all occasions, been willing to render the military character of Napoleon that justice which a generous mind is scrupulously accurate in dispensing to an adversary, and has readily admitted that the conduct of Buonaparte and his army on this memorable occasion, was fully adequate to the support of their high reputation. It may be said that the victor can afford to bestow praise on the vanquished, but that it requires a superior degree of candour in the vanquished to do justice to the conqueror. Napoleon, at any rate, does not seem to have attained, in this particular, to the pitch of a great or exalted mind, since both he and the various persons whom he employed as the means of circulating his statements, concur in a very futile attempt to excuse the defeat at Waterloo, by a set of apologies founded in a great degree upon misrepresentation. The reader will find these scientifically discussed in a valuable article in the Appendix.[152] But it may be necessary, at the risk of some repetition, to take some notice of them here in a popular form. The allegations, which are designed to prove the incapacity of the British general, and to show that the battle of Waterloo was only lost by a combination of extraordinary fatalities, may be considered in their order.

The first, and most frequently repeated, is the charge, that the Duke of Wellington, on the 15th, was surprised in his cantonments, and could not collect his army fast enough at Quatre-bras. In this his Grace would have been doubtless highly censurable, if Napoleon had, by express information, or any distinct movement indicative of his purpose, shown upon which point he meant to advance. But the chivalrous practice of fixing a field of combat has been long out of date; and Napoleon, beyond all generals, possessed the art of masking his own movements, and misleading his enemy concerning the actual point on which he meditated an attack. The Duke and Prince Blucher were, therefore, obliged to provide for the concentration of their forces upon different points, according as Buonaparte's selection should be manifested; and in order to be ready to assemble their forces upon any one position, they must, by spreading their cantonments, in some degree delay the movement upon all. The Duke could not stir from Brussels, or concentrate his forces, until he had certain information of those of the enemy; and it is said that a French statesman, who had promised to send him a copy of the plan of Buonaparte's campaign, contrived, by a trick of policy, to evade keeping his word.[153] We do not mean to deny the talent and activity displayed by Buonaparte, who, if he could have brought forward his whole army upon the evening of the 15th of June, might probably have succeeded in preventing the meditated junction of Blucher and Wellington. But the celebrated prayer for annihilation of time and space would be as little reasonable in the mouth of a general as of a lover, and, fettered by the limitations against which that modest petition is directed, Buonaparte failed in bringing forward in due time a sufficient body of forces to carry all before him at Quatre-bras; while, on the other hand, the Duke of Wellington, from the same obstacles of time and space, could not assemble a force sufficient to drive Ney before him, and enable him to advance to the support of Blucher during the action of Ligny.[154]

The choice of the field of Waterloo is also charged against the Duke of Wellington as an act of weak judgment; because, although possessed of all the requisites for maintaining battle or pursuing victory, and, above all, of the facilities for communicating with the Prussian army, it had not, according to the imperial critic, the means of affording security in case of a retreat, since there was only one communication to the rear—that by the causeway of Brussels, the rest of the position being screened by the forest of Soignies, in front of which the British army was formed, and through which, it is assumed, retreat was impossible.

Taking the principle of this criticism as accurate, it may be answered, that a general would never halt or fight at all, if he were to refuse combat on every other save a field of battle which possessed all the various excellences which may be predicated of one in theory. The commander must consider whether the ground suits his present exigencies, without looking at other circumstances which may be less pressing at the time. Generals have been known to choose by preference the ground from which there could be no retiring; like invaders who burn their ships, as a pledge that they will follow their enterprise to the last. And although provision for a safe retreat is certainly in most cases a desirable circumstance, yet it has been dispensed with by good generals, and by none more frequently than by Napoleon himself. Was not the battle of Essling fought without any possible mode of retreat save the frail bridges over the Danube? Was not that of Wagram debated under similar circumstances? And, to complete the whole, did not Napoleon, while censuring the Duke of Wellington for fighting in front of a forest, himself enter upon conflict with a defile in his rear, formed by the narrow streets and narrower bridge of Genappe, by which alone, if defeated, he could cross the Dyle?—It might, therefore, be presumed, that if the Duke of Wellington chose a position from which retreat was difficult, he must have considered the necessity of retreat as unlikely, and reckoned with confidence on being able to make good his stand until the Prussians should come up to join him.

Even this does not exhaust the question; for the English general-officers unite in considering the forest of Soignies as a very advantageous feature in the field; and, far from apprehending the least inconvenience from its existence, the Duke of Wellington regarded it as affording a position, which, if his first and second line had been unhappily forced, he might have nevertheless made good against the whole French army. The hamlet of Mont Saint Jean, in front, affords an excellent key to the position of an army compelled to occupy the forest. The wood itself is every where passable for men and horses, the trees being tall, and without either low boughs or underwood; and, singular as the discrepancy between the opinions of distinguished soldiers may seem, we have never met an English officer who did not look on the forest of Soignies as affording an admirable position for making a final stand. In support of their opinion they refer to the defence of the Bois de Bossu, near Quatre-bras, against the reiterated attacks of MarÉchal Ney. This impeachment of the Duke of Wellington may therefore be set aside, as inconsistent with the principles of British warfare. All that can be added is, that there are cases in which national habits and manners may render a position advantageous to soldiers of one country, which is perilous or destructive to those of another.

The next subject of invidious criticism, is of a nature so singular, that, did it not originate with a great man, in peculiar circumstances of adversity, it might be almost termed ludicrous. Napoleon expresses himself as dissatisfied, because he was defeated in the common and vulgar proceeding of downright fighting, and by no special manoeuvres or peculiar display of military art on the part of the victor. But if it can afford any consolation to those who cherish his fame, it is easy to show that Napoleon fell a victim to a scheme of tactics early conceived, and persevered in under circumstances which, in the case of ordinary men, would have occasioned its being abandoned; resumed after events which seemed so adverse, that nothing save dauntless courage and unlimited confidence could have enabled the chiefs to proceed in their purpose; and carried into execution, without Napoleon's being able to penetrate the purpose of the allied generals, until it was impossible to prevent the annihilation of his army;—that he fell, in short, by a grand plan of strategie, worthy of being compared to that of any of his own admirable campaigns.

To prove what we have said, it is only necessary to remark, that the natural bases and points of retreat of the Prussian and English armies were different; the former being directed on Maestricht, the other on Antwerp, where each expected their reinforcements. Regardless of this, and with full confidence in each other, the Prince MarÉchal Blucher, and the Duke of Wellington, agreed to act in conjunction against the French army. The union of their forces, for which both were prepared, was destined to have taken place at Ligny, where the duke designed to have supported the Prussians, and where Blucher hazarded an action in expectation of his ally's assistance. The active movements of Napoleon, and the impossibility of the English force being sufficiently concentrated at Quatre-bras to afford the means of overpowering Ney and the force in their front, prevented their making a lateral march to relieve Blucher at that critical period. Otherwise, the parts of the bloody drama, as afterwards acted, would have been reversed, and the British army would have moved to support the Prussians at Ligny, as the Prussians came to the aid of the British at Waterloo.

Napoleon had the merit of disconcerting this plan for the time; but he did not, and could not, discover that the allied generals retained, after the loss of the battle of Ligny, the same purpose which they had adopted on the commencement of the campaign. He imagined, as did all around him, that Blucher must retreat on Namur, or in such a direction as would effectually accomplish a separation betwixt him and the English, as it was natural to think a defeated army should approach towards its own resources, instead of attempting further offensive operations. At all events, Napoleon was in this respect so much mistaken, as to believe that if Blucher did retire on the same line with the English, the means which the Prussian retained for co-operating with his allies were so limited, and (perhaps he might think) the spirit of the general so subdued, that MarÉchal Grouchy, with 32,000 men, would be sufficient to keep the whole Prussian force in check. The marÉchal was accordingly, as we have seen, despatched much too late, without any other instructions than to follow and engage the attention of the Prussians. Misled by the demonstration of Blucher, he at first took the road to Namur, and thus, without any fault on his part, lost time, which was inconceivably precious.

Buonaparte's subsequent accounts of this action blame MarÉchal Grouchy for not discovering Blucher's real direction, which he had no means of ascertaining, and for not obeying orders which were never given to him, and which could not be given, because Napoleon was as ignorant as the marÉchal, that Blucher had formed the determination, at all events, to unite himself with Wellington. This purpose of acting in co-operation, formed and persevered in, was to the French Emperor the riddle of the Sphinx, and he was destroyed because he could not discover it. Indeed, he ridiculed even the idea of such an event. One of his officers, according to Baron Muffling, having hinted at the mere possibility of a junction between the Prussian army and that of Wellington, he smiled contemptuously at the thought. "The Prussian army," he said, "is defeated—It cannot rally for three days—I have 75,000 men, the English only 50,000. The town of Brussels awaits me with open arms. The English Opposition waits but for my success to raise their heads. Then adieu subsidies, and farewell coalition!" In like manner, Napoleon frankly acknowledged, while on board the Northumberland, that he had no idea that the Duke of Wellington meant to fight, and therefore omitted to reconnoitre the ground with sufficient accuracy. It is well known, that when he observed them still in their position on the morning of the 18th, he exclaimed, "I have them, then, these English!"

It was half past eleven, just about the time that the battle of Waterloo commenced, that Grouchy, as already hinted, overtook the rear of the Prussians. A strong force, appearing to be the whole of the Prussian army, lay before the French marÉchal, who, from the character of the ground, had no means of ascertaining their numbers, or of discovering the fact, that three divisions of Blucher's army were already on the march to their right, through the passes of Saint Lambert; and that it was only Thielman's division which remained upon the Dyle. Still less could he know, what could only be known to the duke and Blucher, that the English were determined to give battle in the position at Waterloo. He heard, indeed, a heavy cannonade in that direction, but that might have proceeded from an attack on the British rear-guard, the duke being, in the general opinion of the French army, in full retreat upon Antwerp. At any rate, the marÉchal's orders were to attack the enemy which he found before him. He could not but remember, that Ney had been reprimanded for detaching a part of his force on the 16th, in consequence of a distant cannonade; and he was naturally desirous to avoid censure for the self-same cause. Even if Napoleon was seriously engaged with the English, it seemed the business of Grouchy to occupy the large force which he observed at Wavre, and disposed along the Dyle, to prevent their attempting any thing against Napoleon, if, contrary to probability, the Emperor should be engaged in a general battle. Lastly, as Grouchy was to form his resolution under the idea of having the whole Prussian force before him, which was estimated at 80,000 men, it would have been impossible for him to detach from an army of 32,000 any considerable body, to the assistance of Napoleon; and in attacking with such inadequate numbers, he showed his devotion, at the risk of being totally destroyed.

He engaged, however, in battle without any hesitation, and attacked the line of the Prussians along the Dyle on every accessible point; to wit, at Wavre, at the mill of Bielge, and at the village of Limale. The points of attack were desperately defended by the Prussians under Thielman, so that Grouchy could only occupy that part of Wavre which was on his own side of the Dyle. About four o'clock, and consequently when the fate of the battle of Waterloo was nearly decided, Grouchy received from MarÉchal Soult the only order which reached him during the day, requiring him to manoeuvre so as to unite himself to the right flank of the Emperor, but at the same time acquainting him with the (false) intelligence, that the battle was gained upon the line of Waterloo. A postscript informed Grouchy, that Bulow was appearing upon Napoleon's right flank, and that if he could come up with speed, he would take the Prussian flagrante delicto.[155]

These orders were quite intelligible. But two things were necessary to their being carried into execution. First, that Grouchy should get clear of Thielman, the enemy with whom he was closely engaged, and who would not fail to pursue the French marÉchal if he retreated or moved to his left flank, without having repulsed him. Secondly, it was indispensable he should pass the small river Dyle, defended by Thielman's division, since the road leading through the woods of Chapelle Lambert, was that by which he could best execute his march towards Waterloo. Grouchy redoubled his efforts to force the Dyle, but he could not succeed till night, and then but partially; for the Prussians continued to hold the mill of Bielge, and remained in force within a cannon-shot of Grouchy's position.

In the morning, the marÉchal, anxious to learn with certainty the fate of Napoleon, though believing, according to Soult's letter, that he was victorious, sent out reconnoitring parties. When he learned the truth, he commenced a retreat, which he conducted with such talent, that though closely pursued by the Prussians, then in all the animation of triumph, and though sustaining considerable loss, he was enabled to bring his corps unbroken under the walls of Paris. Weighing all these circumstances, it appears that Buonaparte had no right to count upon the assistance of Grouchy, far less to throw censure on that general for not coming to his assistance, since he scrupulously obeyed the orders he received; and when at four o'clock, that of attacking and pressing the Prussian rear was qualified by the directions of Soult, to close up to Buonaparte's right wing, Grouchy was engaged in an obstinate engagement with Thielman, whom he must necessarily defeat before he could cross the Dyle, to accomplish the junction proposed.

The movement of Blucher, therefore, was a masterpiece of courage and judgment, since the prince marÉchal left one division of his army to maintain a doubtful onset against Grouchy, and involved himself with the other three in that flank movement through the woods of Saint Lambert, by which he paid with interest the debt which he owed Napoleon for a similar movement, previous to the affairs of Champ-Aubert and Montmirail, in 1814.

The same system which placed Blucher in motion, required that the Duke of Wellington should maintain his position, by confining himself to a strictly defensive contest. The British, as they were to keep their place at all risks, so on no temptation of partial success were they to be induced to advance. Every step which they might have driven the French backward, before the coming up of the Prussians, would have been a disadvantage as far as it went, since the object was not to beat the enemy by the efforts of the English only, which, in the state of the two armies, might only have amounted to a repulse, but to detain them in the position of La Belle Alliance, until the army of Blucher should come up. When Napoleon, therefore, objects to the conduct of the Duke of Wellington on the 18th, that he did not manoeuvre in the time of action, he objects to the very circumstance which rendered the victory of the day so decisive. He was himself decoyed into, and detained in a position, until his destruction was rendered inevitable.

It has been a favourite assertion with almost all the French, and some English writers, that the English were on the point of being defeated, when the Prussian force came up. The contrary is the truth. The French had attacked, and the British had resisted, from past eleven until near seven o'clock; and though the battle was most bloody, the former had gained no advantage save at the wood of Hougomont, and the farm-house of La Haye Sainte; both they gained, but speedily lost. Baron Muffling has given the most explicit testimony, "that the battle could have afforded no favourable result to the enemy, even if the Prussians had never come up." He was an eyewitness, and an unquestionable judge, and willing, doubtless, to carry the immediate glory acquired by his countrymen on this memorable occasion, and in which he had a large personal stake, as high as truth and honour will permit. At the time when Napoleon made the last effort, Bulow's troops were indeed upon the field, but had not made any physical impression by their weapons, or excited any moral dread by their appearance. Napoleon announced to all his Guard, whom he collected and formed for that final exertion, that the Prussians whom they saw were closely pursued by the French of Grouchy's army. He himself, perhaps, had that persuasion; for the fire of Grouchy's artillery, supposed to be a league and a half, but in reality nearly three leagues distant, was distinctly heard; and some one of Napoleon's suite saw the smoke from the heights above Wavre. "The battle," he said, "is won; we must force the English position, and throw them upon the defiles.—Allons! La Garde en avant!"[156] Accordingly, they then made the attack in the evening, when they were totally repulsed, and chased back upon, and beyond, their own position. Thus, before the Prussians came into serious action, Napoleon had done his utmost, and had not a corps remaining in order, excepting four battalions of the Old Guard. It cannot be therefore said, that our allies afforded the British army protection from any enemy that was totally disorganised; but that for which the Prussians do deserve the gratitude of Britain and of Europe, is the generous and courageous confidence with which they marched at so many risks to assist in the action, and the activity and zeal with which they completed the victory. It is universally acknowledged, that the British army, exhausted by so long a conflict, could not have availed themselves of the disorder of their enemy at its conclusion; while, on the contrary, nothing could exceed the dexterity and rapidity with which the Prussians conducted the pursuit. The laurels of Waterloo must be divided—the British won the battle, the Prussians achieved and rendered available the victory.[157]