Sabring their way through the remnants of the 45th, and leaving the prisoners to be secured by the Highlanders, the Greys then charged the supporting regiment, the 25th of the Line. These, “lost in amazement at the suddenness and wildness of the charge and its terrific effect on their comrades on the higher ground in front,” were caught in the act of trying to form square. Some of them fired a few shots at the dragoons, but the impetus of the first charge carried the Greys in among them with a rush, driving in the foremost ranks and making the rest of the column in rear roll back and break up. In panic and despair they threw down their muskets and, according to a British officer, “surrendered in crowds.” The Eagle of the 25th, however, was saved. It was carried safely off the field, and is now one of the Napoleonic relics at the Invalides.
Ewart was at once sent to Brussels with the trophy, and on his arrival carried it through the crowded streets “amidst the acclamations of thousands of spectators who saw it.” He was given an ensigncy in the 3rd Royal Veteran Battalion in recognition of his exploit. The sword he used at Waterloo is now among the treasures of Chelsea Hospital, and Ewart’s old regiment bears embroidered on its standard a French Eagle, with the legend “Waterloo.”[44]
THE CHARGE OF THE “ROYALS”
Within a few moments of Sergeant Ewart capturing the Eagle of the 45th, an officer of the Royal Dragoons, Captain A. K. Clark (afterwards Sir A. K. Clark-Kennedy) took, also in hand-to-hand fight, the other Eagle sent home by Wellington from Waterloo—that of the 105th of the Line, the leading regiment of Bourgeois’ Brigade.
The Royals, on the right of the Union Brigade, came down on the French left column. That, as yet, had had no enemy in front of it, and was advancing with cheers and shouts of triumph across the crest-line of the ridge. It overlapped and extended beyond the flank of what had been Picton’s line, and so far had only been fired at from a distance by artillery and part of the 95th. Suddenly the French were startled by the apparition of a mass of cavalry quite near; coming on within eighty or ninety yards of them—emerging from the battle-smoke at a gallop.
The sight took them completely by surprise. The loud shouts of triumph stopped abruptly. “The head of the column,” describes one of the Royals, “appeared to be seized with a panic, gave us a fire which brought down about twenty men, went instantly about, and endeavoured to regain the opposite side of the hedges.” They had just crossed the Wavre road along the slope, about halfway up.
It was the men of one corps, the 105th of the Line, who so turned back. They, of all in the regiments of Napoleon’s army, knew what it was to be charged by cavalry. They had had one fearful experience of what cold steel in strong hands could do, and wanted no second. They were the same 105th whom Wellington’s Hanoverian Dragoons, in the pursuit after Salamanca, had ridden down and slaughtered so mercilessly. Once more the fearful fate was about to overtake them—was at hand, was on them! In the ranks were many veterans who had served in the 105th in Spain before 1814, and had rejoined on Napoleon’s return from Elba. The slaughter after Salamanca was a grim and horrifying memory in the regiment that every man shuddered to recall. It all came back vividly to them now, as the flashing sabres of the Royal Dragoons burst into view, making for them across the ridge. The whole regiment gave back and broke, turning for help to the supporting 28th in rear.
But they were not able to reach their refuge in time. Without drawing rein the Royals pressed home their charge. They were into the 105th in a moment, cutting them down on all sides.
HOW THE SECOND EAGLE WAS TAKEN
In that mêlée the Eagle of the 105th met its fate. Captain Clark-Kennedy himself describes how that came about—how he came to take the Eagle. He was in command of the centre squadron, leading through the thick of the ill-fated infantrymen.