At a period of the battle, when the Duke was surrounded by his staff, it was evident they had become the object of the fire from a French battery. The shot fell fast around them. Their horses became restive, and Copenhagen himself (the Duke’s horse,) so fidgety, that the Duke became impatient, and having reasons for remaining on the spot, said, “Gentlemen, we are rather too close together: better divide a little.”
On one occasion Wellington rode up to Picton’s division, just as a hot fire of musketry opened upon the 92d. The staff expected every instant to see him drop, as he sat coolly watching the effect of the enemy’s fire: but he remained untouched; as did also lord Arthur Hill, who was the only officer that had accompanied him to the crest of the ground.
During the battle, a British artillery officer rode up to the duke of Wellington and said, “Your Grace, I have a distinct view of Napoleon, attended by his staff: my guns are well pointed in that direction, shall I open fire?” The Duke replied, “Certainly not, I will not allow it; it is not the business of commanders to fire upon each other.”
From this it is evident that circumstances alter cases, as may be seen by the following expression of the Duke: “I cannot discover the policy of not hitting one’s enemy as hard as one can, and in the most vulnerable place.” (Dispatches, vol. XI, page 547.)
Whilst the Duke was occupied intently in observing with his telescope a movement in the enemy’s line, some of their skirmishers were pressing on, and the musket-balls began to whistle round his Grace in such profusion, that colonel Gordon was induced to take the bridle of the Duke’s charger, and lead him forward to a hollow, where he was in shelter; and so intent was his Grace in observing the enemy, that it was accomplished without his noticing it. Throughout this long and trying day, the Duke was always to be seen where danger threatened, or difficulties arose, fearlessly passing from point to point, and constantly exposed to the fire of the enemy, protected doubtlessly by a merciful and all-wise Providence, to add still further lustre to his name by his continued services to his country.
During the heat of the battle, the Duke was about to pass in front of a Nassau square, the troops composing which had served Napoleon, when several of his staff requested his Grace to pass by its rear: had he rode along the front, the simple process of pulling a single trigger might have blasted all our expectations, and injured the cause of Europe more than did the whole efforts of Napoleon and his army.
The arms, clothing, and general bearing of the Nassau-men were truly French: their splendid rifle-green uniform, broad buff cross-belts, handsome white cased cap and tall black plume, produced a martial and imposing appearance.
A hussar and a cuirassier had got entangled in the mêlée, and met in the plain, in full view of our line; the hussar was without a cap, and bleeding from a wound in the head, but that did not hinder him from attacking his steel-clad adversary. He soon proved that the strength of cavalry consist in good horsemanship, and the skilful use of the sword, and not in being clad in heavy defensive armour. The superiority of the hussar was visible the moment the swords crossed: after a few wheels a tremendous facer made the Frenchman reel in his saddle, and all his attempts to escape his more active foe became unavailing; a second blow stretched him on the ground, amidst the cheers of the light horseman’s comrades, the 3d German hussars, who were ardent spectators of the combat.
During the cavalry charges, a man, named Gilmore, of captain Elphinstone’s troop, and belonging to my regiment, was lying under his wounded grey horse, about two hundred yards in our front. The cuirassiers were advancing; and as I was aware they spared none who fell into their hands, I sprang from my saddle, soon reached the spot, and seizing the bridle raised the horse’s head; when the animal making a struggle, Gilmore was enabled to extricate himself, and to reach our line just before the enemy’s cavalry came up. The pleasure I felt on this occasion will be understood by any one who has had the opportunity of saving life.—Two other human beings, one, a lad, David Bale, at Clapham, in Surrey; another, a boy, named Tannis, in the village of Mont-St.-Jean, I was providentially enabled to rescue from drowning.
I witnessed an encounter during the battle, between an artillery-man and a cuirassier: the former was under his gun; the latter dodging round, endeavouring to run his sword through him. At length the cuirassier’s horse was shot, and the gunner, getting from his place of shelter, dealt a blow with his ramrod upon the head of his antagonist, which felled him to the ground: he then seized upon the cuirassier’s sword, and collaring him, proceeded towards the rear. On passing us, the gunner gave his prisoner a kick on the hind part of his person, saying, “Be off to the rear.”