The Eagles announce Victory to London

The last of the four episodes is supplemental: the story of how Wellington’s Eagle-trophies themselves first announced Waterloo to London.

The two Eagles were sent to England immediately after the battle, together with Wellington’s Waterloo despatch, by Major the Hon. Henry Percy, of the 11th Light Dragoons, who was almost the only member of Wellington’s staff who went through the battle unwounded. He arrived in London, displaying the Eagles from his post-chaise as he travelled through the streets, on the stroke of eleven o’clock on the night of Wednesday, June 21.

Up to then not a word had come from Wellington: not a word of reliable news as to what had happened had reached England. Rumours of an early check to the French had arrived, from unofficial sources, during the previous day, but nothing more had been heard, and all London was on tenterhooks of suspense.

THE FIRST RUMOURS IN LONDON

The battle was fought on Sunday the 18th. But no news of it, or in regard to it, of any kind reached England during either Monday or Tuesday. There was no intelligence from the seat of war at all. On the Wednesday morning the Times announced vaguely that Napoleon had struck the first blow unsuccessfully. A Mr. Sutton, of Colchester, it said, the owner of packet-boats running between Harwich and Ostend, had forwarded a message to the effect that there had been fighting on the 15th and 16th and skirmishing on the 17th, and that a fresh battle was beginning on the morning of the 18th. His informant at Brussels had sent that news. There was no more news until Wednesday afternoon, when the Sun came out with a special edition stating that the Government had received no despatches, but that “a gentleman who left Ghent on Monday, and two others from Brussels, brought word that Sunday’s battle had been successful.” All London was in the streets until between ten and eleven that night, in a state of eager expectation; but repeated inquiries at the Horse Guards, at the War Office, and at the Mansion House only met with the answer—“No news yet.”

It was just as the crowds were dispersing, tired of waiting, and taking it as certain that nothing could be known until the morning, as the clocks were on the stroke of eleven, that Major Percy arrived in London.

“He left the Duchess of Richmond’s ball,” says his niece, Lady Bagot, in whose words the story may best be told, “on the night before the battle, and had no time to change his dress, or even his shoes, before going into action. When he received orders to go to England with the despatches, he posted to Antwerp, and there took the first sailing boat he could find to convey him to Dover, where he landed in the afternoon. He found that a report of the victory had preceded him there. The Rothschilds had chartered a fast sloop to lie off Antwerp, and bring the first news of the battle to the English shore—news which was to be used for Stock Exchange purposes.

“My uncle’s confirmation of the rumour of a great victory was received with the greatest relief and enthusiasm. At that time the hotel-keeper at Dover, a certain Mr. Wright, had the monopoly of the posting arrangements between that port and London. He immediately placed his best horses at my uncle’s disposal, and despatched an express to order fresh relays all along the road. Besides the despatches my uncle took the two captured Eagles of the Imperial Guard with him. These, being too large to go into the carriage, were placed so as to stick out of the windows, one on each side. In this manner he drove straight to the Horse Guards, where he learnt that the Commander-in-Chief, at that time the Duke of York, was dining out. He next proceeded to Lord Castlereagh’s, and was told that he and the Duke of York were both dining with a lady in St. James’s Square. To this house he drove, and there learnt that the Prince Regent was also of the dinner-party.

PRESENTED TO THE PRINCE REGENT

“Requesting to be shown immediately into the dining-room, he entered that apartment bearing the despatches and the Eagles with him. He was covered with dust and mud, and, though unwounded himself, bore the marks of battle upon his coat. The dessert was being placed upon the table when he entered, and as soon as the Prince Regent saw him he commanded the ladies to leave the room. The Prince Regent then held out his hand, saying, ‘Welcome, Colonel Percy!’ ‘Go down on one knee,’ said the Duke of York to my uncle, ‘and kiss hands for the step you have obtained.’ Before the despatch could be read, my uncle was besieged with inquiries of various prominent officers engaged, and had to answer ‘Dead’ or ‘Severely wounded’ so often that the Prince Regent burst into tears. The Duke of York, though greatly moved, was more composed.

“By this time my uncle was exhausted from fatigue, and begged the Prince’s permission to go to his father’s house in Portman Square. The crowd was so great in St. James’s Square, that he had the greatest difficulty in getting through it and reaching my grandfather’s house, which was soon surrounded by anxious multitudes begging for news of relations and friends. My uncle told them that the victory was complete, but that the number killed and wounded was very large. He told them that he would answer more questions next morning.”

The Eagles themselves in fact announced the victory in London. People in the streets saw the chaise as it passed on its way with its horses at a gallop, racing at full speed along the Old Kent Road, across Westminster Bridge, and through Parliament Street to Whitehall, “the gleaming lamps showing a French Eagle and the French flags projecting from each window.”

The news spread like wild-fire, and before Colonel Percy could reach the house where the Prince Regent was dining—Mrs. Boehm’s, in St. James’s Square—South London was flocking over Westminster Bridge to Whitehall. The West End heard the news immediately afterwards, and everybody hurried out again into the streets.

It became quickly known where the chaise had gone after leaving the Horse Guards, and promptly an ever-increasing crowd hurried off there. Before the despatch had been read an enormous mass of people had assembled in St. James’s Square, outside the house. They were in time to hear the cheering by the company inside the house that greeted the reading of the despatch; the cheers were instantly echoed back, accompanied by an outburst of vociferous shouting followed by a tremendous chorus of “God save the King!” The windows of the dining-room were open, and a moment later the two Eagles with their tricolor flags were thrust through. They were held up, with candles at either side, to show them plainly, so that all might know that the victory had been decisive.

“For a few minutes dustmen’s bells and watchmen’s rattles were sprung all over London. Liquor was produced at many a street-corner, and toasts were drunk to Wellington and confusion to Bonaparte.”[45]

HOW PARIS HEARD THE NEWS

The closing scene took place on Thursday, January 18, 1816—on the “General Thanksgiving Day for the Restoration of Peace.” The two Eagles were on that day publicly paraded at the Horse Guards and laid up in the Chapel Royal, Whitehall, with ceremonies similar to those that attended the reception of the Barrosa and Salamanca trophies. Again the battalions of the Brigade of Guards in England, with their bands “in State clothing,” turned out to take part in the display, the Eagles, as before, being made to march round the square and do formal obeisance to the British flag by being prostrated in the dust before the Colour of the King’s Guard of the day, at which sight, as on the former occasions, both the troops and the crowd of spectators “instantaneously gave three loud huzzas with the most enthusiastic feeling.” The Duke of York, as Commander-in-Chief, presided this time at the parade. Two sergeants of the Grenadier and Third Guards who had been wounded at Waterloo were selected to carry the Eagles; escorted by a picked company of eighty-four officers and men “drawn from among the heroic defenders of Hougoumont on the field of battle.” Lifeguardsmen and Blues just arrived from the Army of Occupation, in France, assisted the Foot Guards on parade.

IN THE CHAPEL ROYAL, WHITEHALL

The escort entered the Chapel Royal by the two doors in equal divisions, the band playing and marching up to the steps of the Communion Table, where they filed off to right and left. As soon as the band had ceased, the two sergeants bearing the Eagles approached the Altar and fixed upon it their consecrated banners. Both the Chaplain-General to the Forces (Archdeacon Owen) and the Bishop of London, with two Royal Chaplains (“the Rev. Mr. Jones and the Rev. Mr. Howlett”), officiated in the service; the Bishop preaching a special sermon, with for his text Psalm xx. verses 7 and 8:

“Some trust in chariots and some in horses: but we will remember the name of the Lord our God.

“They are brought down and fallen: but we are risen and stand upright.”

“After the customary blessing, the band played ‘God save the King!’ the whole congregation standing. Among those who attended were a considerable number of persons of fashion and distinction in public life, the Dukes of Gloucester and York, and the Earl of Liverpool, and several officers of the Army and Navy, with many elegant and distinguished females.”

CHAPTER XIV
AFTER THE DOWNFALL

The remnant of the Waterloo army, as mustered and officially reported to Paris on July 1, 1815, after it had been withdrawn by convention with the Allies beyond the Loire, numbered some 23,000 of all arms.[46] The soldiers had their Eagles with them. The Eagles were still the standards of the army, although all was over with Napoleon, and he had set out on his flight from Malmaison to the coast near Rochfort—to find the Bellerophon awaiting him there.

PRESENTED AFTER WATERLOO

The last occasion on which an Eagle of Napoleon’s Army had its part on parade was one day, near the Loire, with a regiment not at Waterloo. It was when the news of Napoleon’s abdication reached its colonel. He was Colonel Bugeaud of the 14th of the Line, in after years the famous Marshal who gained Algeria for France. As it happened, the 14th had not long received their Eagle from the “Champ de Mai.” It had been brought by the deputation of the regiment sent to Paris to receive it at the hands of the Emperor, but had not yet been formally presented on parade, owing to the regiment being on the march from the south-eastern frontier of France. The 14th joined the rallied remnants of the Waterloo army to the south of the Loire, and there Colonel Bugeaud made the presentation of the Eagle. For the occasion he made use of the Napoleonic formula of address at such ceremonies, but with a variation to suit the altered situation. He took the opportunity to remind the regiment that, if the Chief had fallen, they yet owed allegiance to their country. “Soldiers of the 14th,” began the colonel, “here is your Eagle. It is in the name of the nation that I present it to you. If the Emperor, as it is stated, is no longer our Sovereign, France remains. It is France who confides this Eagle to you as your standard; it is ever to be your talisman of victory. Swear that as long as a soldier of the 14th exists no enemy’s hand shall touch it!” “We swear it!” responded the soldiers all together, and then the officers stepped forward in front of the ranks, waving their swords and again shouting, “We swear it!”

The end for the Eagles of Napoleon came on August 3, 1815. On that day the Ministerial decree was promulgated, abolishing them and the tricolor flag, and disbanding the entire Army. The white Bourbon flag was restored once more, with a new form of Army organisation, which substituted “Departmental Legions” in the place of regiments. As in the year before, it was notified that all Eagles were to be sent to the Artillery dépôt at Vincennes for destruction there, according to law—the metal of the Eagles to be melted down, their silken tricolor flags to be burned.

The date of the final disbandment was fixed for September 30, and in almost every case there was a pathetic scene when the hour came for the soldiers to take their last farewell of their Eagles. “On the day of the disbandment,” describes one officer, speaking of his own regiment, “we all paraded, and the roll was called for the last time. Then the Eagle was passed solemnly down along the line, the band playing a funeral march. The officers and soldiers, all in tears, after saluting it, embraced and kissed the Eagle. It was then escorted back to the colonel’s quarters to be packed up in a box and forwarded, according to the official instructions, by carrier to the Ministry of War, thence to go to Vincennes.”

LA REVUE DES MORTS.

From a picture by R. Demoraine.

ON THE DAY OF THE LAST PARADE

In a few cases, where the senior officers knew that they had nothing to hope for in the way of consideration from the new régime, the Eagles were publicly broken up at the last parade by the colonels themselves, with a blacksmith’s hammer or pioneer’s hatchet, and the silken tricolor flags cut to pieces, after which the metal fragments, together with the shreds of the flags, were distributed as keepsakes among officers and men. That being done, all silently dispersed, never to reassemble. In some other cases, as had happened a twelvemonth previously, the Eagles disappeared before the last parade—the officers in the various regiments having arranged for one of themselves to retain the Eagle of the corps privately, either by agreement or after drawing lots.

It was in this way that what Napoleonic Eagles and flags are now at the Invalides came to be there. They were kept hidden by their possessors until after the Revolution of July, 1830, and then, on the formation of the present collection of standards and trophies being officially sanctioned, most of those at present exhibited were brought to light and presented, either by those who had been treasuring them in secret, or by their heirs and families.

Three Waterloo Eagles are at the Invalides: those of the 2nd Grenadiers of the Guard, and of the 25th and 26th of the Line; these last two of the regiments in the columns charged by the Scots Greys and the Royals. In addition to the Eagles, there are at the Invalides several standards that saw service on the battlefield under Napoleon and survived the vicissitudes of war: seven flags of infantry, and as many of artillery, one cuirassier standard, and five other cavalry standards. Most of these originally bore Eagles on their staves, but those Eagles are now wanting.[47]

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