This document was penned a fortnight before the action at Quatre-Bras, where we began work in earnest, as the Duke had anticipated, exactly on the 16th. This fact, of itself, should suffice to stop the mouths of those who delight in telling us that Wellington was taken by surprise. There were moments indeed, when he thought that Napoleon’s ambition might be so far controlled by common prudence, as to be content with remaining within the boundaries of France, and leaving the odium of acting aggressively to the allied powers; and in such moments, the Duke spoke and wrote of awaiting for the combined movements of the Austrians and Russians. But not for a single instant did he lose sight of the possibility, nay probability, that Bonaparte would rush across the borders, begin offensive operations, and make a dash to seize the person of Louis XVIII, or to get possession of the city of Brussels. Against these contingencies, how early and how ably our great chieftain provided, let facts, and not the dreams of mortified narrators, inform the world.
On the 6th, 7th, and 10th of June, the Duke dispatched letters to the Prussians’ head-quarters], informing them that the enemy was in great strength about Maubeuge, where Bonaparte was said to be on the 9th, and thence to have gone along the frontiers towards Lille; and that an attack was to be forthwith expected[96].
With this intelligence received by Wellington, and actively circulated by him among all who were exposed to be attacked by the French, how was it possible that he should be taken by surprise? Every movement of the enemy was quickly known to him; and his characteristic vigilance, and matured judgment, enabled him to foretell the very time and place of the grand attack. All that depended on him was in perfect readiness, several days before fighting began. If the Prussians were unaccountably remiss in not forwarding to his Grace earlier intelligence of the descent of the enemy into Belgium, it was not for want of watchfulness on the part of the Duke; he was quite awake. Let the reader turn to the Appendix of this work, ([No. I],) for proof that Wellington was not easily to be surprised, but that he had all his forces so well in hand on the 30th of April, that they could march at a moment’s notice, and unite at any point really attacked.
In reply to the assertion made by French, and even by Prussian official writers, “that Blücher and his troops saved the allied army,” it may be observed, the battle of Waterloo must be always considered as a battle fought by the right wing of an army, for the purpose of maintaining a position until the arrival of the Prussians, its left wing, should render victory certain. The safest tactics, in the Duke’s opinion, were to act entirely on the defensive, and he had, in consequence, thoroughly matured his arrangements with Blücher for mutual support. The Duke, therefore, was not only justified in receiving battle, but had every reason to expect to have been reinforced several hours before the Prussians came up. Waterloo might have terminated with much less sacrifice of life, and as decisively at three, as it afterwards did at eight o’clock. But even admitting, for a moment, that the arrival of the Prussians saved us at Waterloo, we undoubtedly saved them by holding our position until they came up. Had we given way before they cleared the defiles of St.-Lambert, they would have been annihilated; of this they were aware, as our readers will be convinced on reference to the letters from the Prussian to the allied head-quarters[97].
But facts are stubborn things, and it is doubtful whether Napoleon could have driven the British from the ground, even if the Prussians had not arrived. The English troops had maintained their position for eight hours against the most experienced army and the ablest general ever France sent into the field; not a British regiment was broken, nor the allied army in a panic, nor, at any time, in serious danger of being penetrated. Further, even if the Prussians had not arrived, we are inclined to think that Napoleon could not, in the exhausted and dispirited condition of his troops, and the lateness of the hour, have driven the British from their ground. His cavalry was nearly annihilated: while three brigades of British infantry, one of the King’s German legion, and two brigades of British cavalry[98], had, except in the loss sustained by the 27th regiment, and 12th dragoons, suffered but comparatively little; many of the foreign troops had not fired a shot: and after the arrival of Vivian and Vandeleur, the British cavalry were, as our readers have seen, masters of the field. The junction of the Prussians was a part of Wellington’s combinations for the battle. Their flank movement at Waterloo was similar to Desaix’s from Novi to Marengo; with this no small difference, that upon Bulow’s troops joining, they found the allied army firm and unbroken, and rather in advance of their position of the morning[99]: when Desaix joined Bonaparte, he was in full retreat, one wing of his army destroyed, and obliged to change his whole front to save the rest from destruction; this eventually gave him the victory. We are not astonished that the French should employ this argument as a balm to their disappointment, but it comes with a peculiar bad grace from the Prussians. Surely, in thus taking the lion’s share in this glorious victory, they do not think to cover their defeat at Ligny, or their unaccountable delay in arriving on the field of Waterloo.
“The roads were very bad, and the Prussians had a numerous artillery, not over-well horsed. Yet supposing them to have been put in motion at eight o’clock in the morning, (their official account says break of day,) they were ten or eleven hours in marching little more than a like number of miles! May we not therefore be allowed to conjecture, that there was some hesitation on the part of Blücher in marching upon Waterloo, until he could feel assured of his army being in little danger from Grouchy?” (Jacksos and Scott’s Life of the Duke of Wellington.)[100].
And if true, as the Prussian official report represents, that Blücher had such a large force on the field to act, previous to, or during Napoleon’s last attack upon us, why did not Blücher, to use the language of two excellent military writers, roll up the French army as Pakenham’s division did at Salamanca? I have often thought that if lord Hill could, by any means, have been transferred across the field to where Bulow debouched, with the same force of British troops under his command as Bulow had of Prussian, (30,000,) our illustrious Chief’s table that night might have been honoured by the presence of Napoleon and his chief officers, and most of the French army favoured with a free passage to England.
Lieutenant-colonel B. Jackson, in his Military life of Wellington, (vol. II, page 806,) says, “There can exist no doubt whatever that, paradoxical as it may at first sight appear, the cooperation, thought somewhat tardy, of the Prussians, produced, not the defeat, but the total rout of Bonaparte’s army: for the duke of Wellington could not, weakened as his force was at the close of the day, have hazarded an attack with his whole army, had Blücher not been at hand to support the movement. The service rendered by our brave allies was therefore most opportune, and of the highest value.... An error of half an hour—and men do not consult their watches during the excitement of battle—made either by the Prussians or ourselves, is sufficient to account for much of the discrepance existing between their statements and our own.”
That English and Prussian writers should altogether agree as to the apportionment of the glory of the day, was not to be expected. It is clear, to the lasting honour of the two allied nations, that whatever feelings may have since grown up on this subject, none interfered at the time with the cordiality of their combined operations. The following lines, from a Prussian pen, will show that just national pride is not inconsistent with candour:
“Upon the question, who really fought and won the battle of the 18th, no discussion, much less contention, ought to have arisen. Without in the slightest degree impeaching the just share of Prussia in the victory, or losing sight for a moment of the fact that she bore a great share of the danger, and drew much of it from her allies and upon herself at a decisive moment, no unprejudiced person can conceal from himself that the honour of the day is due to the Anglo-Netherlandish army, and to the measures of its great leader. The struggle of Mont-St.-Jean was conducted with an obstinacy, ability, and foresight of which history affords few examples. The great loss of the English also speaks the merit of their services. More than seven hundred officers, among them the first of their army, whether in rank or merit, and upwards of ten thousand soldiers, fell, or retired wounded from the field[101].”