On the 15th of June, 1815, the French general Bourmont, colonels Clouet and Villoutreys, with three captains, deserted Napoleon, and came over to the Prussians. When Bourmont was presented to Blücher, the latter could not refrain from evincing his contempt for the faithless soldier. Some officers tried to impress him more favourably towards the general, by directing his attention to the white cockade which he wore in a conspicuous fashion: the Prince bluntly remarked, “It matters not what a man sticks in his hat for a mark; a mean-spirited scoundrel always remains the same.”
In a private letter from Blücher to sir Hudson Lowe, written many months anterior to Bonaparte’s quitting Elba, after disavowing all desire for future triumphs, he expressed a hope, that if again called upon to act, it might be in conjunction with the general and army that had immortalized themselves in the Peninsula, when Wellington and himself would go hand in hand to victory. It was truly a prophetic epistle.
“It has always occurred to me, however,” says the Duke, (upon the battle of Leipsick,) “that if Bonaparte had not placed himself in a position that every other officer would have avoided[111], and had not remained in it longer than was consistent with any notions of prudence, he would have retired in such a state, that the allies could not have ventured to approach the Rhine.” (Dispatches, vol. XI, page 435.)
It is always interesting to know what estimate great commanders have formed of one another. During the Peninsular campaign, marshal Marmont, with about sixty thousand men, approached Wellington’s position at Fuente-Guinaldo, when the iron Duke’s force did not exceed two thousand five hundred horse, and two weak divisions of infantry. Still he exhibited the same coolness and imperturbable self-possession, which, in emergency, invariably marked his distinguished and successful career. On this occasion, the Spanish general Alava, whose enlightened patriotism and high military qualities had endeared him to the Duke, thus accosted him, “Here you are with a couple of weak divisions in front of the whole French army; and you seem quite at your ease! Why, it is enough to put any man in a fever!”—“I have done according to the very best of my judgment all that can be done,” was the characteristic reply of the British commander, “and therefore I care not either for the enemy in front, or for anything which they may say at home.”
Upon Marmont’s being informed, that, for thirty-six hours, Wellington, with about fourteen thousand men, had lain within cannon range of him, his astonishment was unbounded; and he is said to have exclaimed, that, “Brilliant as was Napoleon’s star, Wellington’s was more brilliant still.” Marshal Marmont’s discrimination was amply proved at Waterloo.
Lieutenant-colonel Ponsonby, of the 12th light dragoons, gives the following account of himself on being wounded. He says,
“In the mêlée (thick of the fight) I was almost instantly disabled in both my arms, losing first my sword, and then my rein; and, followed by a few of my men who were presently cut down, no quarter being asked or given, I was carried along by my horse, till, receiving a blow from a sabre, I fell senseless on my face to the ground. Recovering, I raised myself a little to look round, being at that time in a condition to get up and run away, when a lancer passing by, cried out, ‘Tu n’es pas mort, coquin!’ and struck his lance through my back. My head dropped, the blood gushed into my mouth, a difficulty of breathing came on, and I thought all was over. Not long after, a skirmisher stopped to plunder me, threatening my life: I directed him to a small side-pocket, in which he found three dollars, all I had; but he continued to threaten, tearing open my waistcoat, and leaving me in a very uneasy posture.
“But he was no sooner gone, than an officer bringing up some troops, and happening to halt where I lay, stooped down, and addressing me, said, he feared I was badly wounded. I answered that I was, and expressed a wish to be moved to the rear. He said it was against orders, to remove even their own men; but that, if they gained the day, (and he understood that the duke of Wellington was killed, and that six of our battalions had surrendered,) every attention in his power should be shown me. I complained of thirst, and he held his brandy bottle to my lips, directing one of his soldiers to lay me straight on my side, and place a knapsack under my head: they then passed on into action, soon perhaps to want, though not to receive, the same assistance; and I shall never know to whose generosity I was indebted, as I believe, for my life.
“By and by, another skirmisher came up, a fine young man, full of ardour, loading and firing: he knelt down and fired over me many times, conversing with me very gaily all the while: at last he ran off, saying, ‘Vous serez bien aise d’apprendre que nous allons nous retirer. Bonjour, mon ami.’ (‘You will be pleased to learn that we are going to fall back. Good day, my friend.’) It was dusk, when two squadrons of Prussian cavalry crossed the valley in full trot, lifting me from the ground, and tumbling me about cruelly.
“The battle was now over, and the groans of the wounded all around me, became more and more audible: I thought the night never would end. About this time, I found a soldier lying across my legs, and his weight, his convulsive motions, his noises, and the air issuing through a wound in his side, distressed me greatly; the last circumstance most of all, as I had a wound of the same nature myself. It was not a dark night, and the Prussians were wandering about to plunder: many of them stopped to look at me as they passed; at last one of them stopped to examine me: I told him that I was a British officer, and had been already plundered. He did not however desist, and pulled me about roughly.