No one unacquainted with war can form the most distant idea of the weak state and disorganization to which even a victorious army is reduced by a long, trying, severe day’s battle. The number of men absent from the ranks is incredible, and long continued excitement nearly exhausts the rest.
Although we place little reliance on statements which have originated from St.-Helena, yet we must be excused if we quote O’Meara, whose conversations with the Emperor have been faithfully given to the world. They contain several allusions to the battle of Waterloo, and attest the Emperor’s conviction of the completeness of our victory over him, and the hopelessness of all his plans, as well as his utter despair before he quitted the field.
What other honest interpretation can be given to these words, “I ought to have died at Waterloo; but, as ill luck will have it, when you seek death you cannot meet with it. There were numbers killed close to me, before, behind, on every side of me; but there was no bullet for me!” Why should a man desire to be struck down, if, as the fond tale goes amongst some of his indiscriminate admirers, he had thrice won the battle of Waterloo? He desired death, because he saw that all his resources were gone, and that the British, notwithstanding the day’s dreadful carnage, were about to deal the decisive blow with irresistible force.
The same author relates several facts connected with the battle of Waterloo, communicated to him by general Gourgaud, under Napoleon’s roof. These are the general’s words, as written down at the time, (August 23d, 1817:)
“At the close of the battle of Waterloo, and after the unsuccessful charge of the French, the English cavalry which charged in return, approached within two or three hundred yards of the spot where Napoleon was, with none about him but Soult, Drouot, Bertrand, and Gourgaud himself. At a short distance from them was a small French battalion, that had formed square. Napoleon directed general Gourgaud to order two or three field-pieces belonging to this battalion to be fired, in order to arrest the cavalry which was coming on. The order was executed, and one of the balls wounded lord Uxbridge in the leg. Napoleon put himself at the head of the column, exclaiming, ‘Here we must die! we must die on the field of battle!’”
Let us observe, that Napoleon must, at this moment, have felt himself beaten, and that his conquerors were the British, to whom, as the most noble of his enemies, he paid the compliment, wishing to die by our hands rather than by those of the Prussians, who were advancing on his right, ready enough to gratify his wish. But, to continue general Gourgaud’s account:
“At the very instant that Napoleon was desirous of making a charge with the handful of men left about him, the English light infantry was gaining ground. Labédoyère galloped round them, sword in hand, seeming to court a glorious death on the field of honour. We prevented Napoleon from rushing into the midst of the enemy. It was Soult who seized his horse by the bridle, and said, ‘They will not kill you: you will be taken prisoner;’ and that general, with the assistance of a few others who gathered round, prevailed on Napoleon to fly from the field of battle.”
We have often, throughout this discussion, quoted several of our opponents: let us now give two great authorities on every question connected with the field of Waterloo, viz. the duke of Wellington and lord Hill. It is also a conversation, but related by B. R. Haydon Esq., (United Service Magazine, February 1844, page 281:)
“When sir Walter Scott was at Paris in 1815, he was permitted to ask, and he did put the following questions, at his Grace’s table, relating to Waterloo, and I repeat them as sir Walter detailed them to me at my own: ‘Suppose, your Grace, Blücher had not come up.’ The Duke replied, ‘I could have kept my ground till next morning.’—‘Suppose Grouchy had come first.’—‘Blücher would have been close behind him.’—‘But let us suppose, your Grace had been compelled to retreat.’—‘I could have taken position in the forest of Soigne, and defied all till the allies joined.’—‘Was there any part of the day when your Grace despaired?’—‘Never,’ was the reply.