He had chosen a favourable time for putting into action the scheme on which he had been secretly brooding. The Allies still quarrelled amongst themselves, the Czar in particular showing a disposition towards the others more warlike than pacific; some 300,000 troops had been released from German fortresses, Spanish prisons, and British hulks, and might rally around him; the Bourbons, who had been replaced in power, were anything but popular, and people were beginning to talk about “the good old times” when the insatiable French appetite for glory had been appeased. On the first day of March the Commander and his little army landed near Cannes and pushed on to Grenoble as quickly as possible. The garrison did not seem particularly anxious to listen to his overtures. Unbuttoning his coat he declaimed to the soldiers, “Here is your Emperor; if any one would kill him, let him fire!” This dramatic appeal was irresistible. The detachment instantly joined him, followed by many others as he marched in the direction of Paris. Peasants who would have heard with unfeigned delight of his assassination ten months before, now saluted and cheered him as he rode at the head of his rapidly increasing army, which included Ney and the 6000 soldiers who had been sent to capture him. The new king deemed it advisable to leave Paris; on the following day Napoleon entered it and was again in the Tuileries. Without losing a moment he began to reconstruct the Government. Great Britain, Russia, Austria, and Prussia, declared him an outlaw, a step less serious than their agreement to keep 600,000 troops under arms “till Bonaparte should have been rendered absolutely incapable of stirring up further troubles.” At the commencement of hostilities the Emperor had 125,000 men, the Allies 210,000.
Of Napoleon’s campaign in Belgium little need be said. It was short and it was decisive. On the 16th June 1815, he won his last victory at Ligny, where he defeated the Prussians under Blücher, Wellington gaining the battle of Quatre Bras against Ney. Two days later Wellington and Blücher routed the French on the field of Waterloo. The Iron Duke afterwards told Thomas Creevey that it was “the nearest run thing you ever saw in your life.”
The Flight from Waterloo
By A. C. Gow, R.A.
By permission of the Berlin Photographic Co., London, W.
“On the morning of the 18th,” relates Sir Hussey Vivian, who led a British brigade, “about eleven o’clock, our advanced posts were driven in, and we saw the enemy’s column advancing to attack us.
“The firing soon began, and about one o’clock one of the most desperate attacks I ever witnessed was made on the centre and left centre of our line; this was defeated, and repeated twice, the armies constantly mixed actually with each other, and the French always covering each attack by the most tremendous cannonade you can possibly imagine. With respect to the particular situation in which my brigade was placed, it did not suffer much until towards the last attack; the ground on the left did not admit of the cavalry advancing, and I, being on the left of all, consequently suffered only from the cannonade. About six o’clock, however, I learnt that the cavalry in the centre had suffered dreadfully, and the Prussians about that time having formed to my left, I took upon myself to move off from our left, and halted directly to the centre of our line, where I arrived most opportunely at the instant that Bonaparte was making his last and most desperate effort. And never did I witness anything so terrific: the ground actually covered with dead and dying, cannon shot and shells flying thicker than I ever heard musquetry.
“In this state of affairs I wheeled my brigade into line close (within ten yards) in the rear of our infantry, and prepared to charge the instant they had retreated through my intervals (the three squadron officers were wounded at this instant). This, however, gave them confidence, and the brigades that were literally running away halted on our cheering them and again began fighting. The enemy on their part began to waver. The Duke observed it, and ordered the infantry to advance. I immediately wheeled the brigade by half-squadrons to the right and in column over the dead and dying, trotted round the right of our infantry, passed the French infantry, and formed lines of regiments on the first half-squadrons. With the 10th I charged a body of French Cuirassiers and Lancers infinitely superior to them, and completely routed them. I then went to the 18th, and charged a second body that was supporting a square of Imperial Guards, and the 18th not only defeated them, but took fourteen pieces of cannon that had been firing grape at us during our movement. I then, with the 10th, having reformed them, charged a square of infantry, Imperial Guards, the men of which we cut down in the ranks, and here the last shot was fired—from this moment all was deroute.... I never saw such a day, nor any one else.”
In confirmation of the last statement Sir Harry Smith, who also fought under Wellington in this campaign, says “I had never seen anything to be compared with what I saw,” excepting only “one spot at New Orleans, and the breach of Badajos.” He adds a description of the field as he observed it on the following day: