“At Waterloo,” he writes, “the whole field from right to left was a mass of dead bodies. In one spot, to the right of La Haye Sainte, the French Cuirassiers were literally piled on each other; many soldiers not wounded lying under their horses; others, fearfully wounded, occasionally with their horses struggling upon their wounded bodies. The sight was sickening, and I had no means or power to assist them. Imperative duty compelled me to the field of my comrades, where I had plenty to do to assist many who had been left out all night; some had been believed to be dead, but the spark of life had returned. All over the field you saw officers, and as many soldiers as were permitted to leave the ranks, leaning and weeping over some dead or dying brother or comrade. The battle was fought on a Sunday, the 18th June, and I repeated to myself a verse from the Psalms of that day—91st Psalm, 7th verse: ‘A thousand shall fall at thy side, and ten thousand at thy right hand, but it shall not come nigh thee.’ I blessed Almighty God our Duke was spared, and galloped to my General, whom I found with some breakfast awaiting my arrival.” In Sir Harry’s opinion “Napoleon fought the battle badly, his attacks were not simultaneous, but partial and isolated, and enabled the Duke to repel each by a concentration.”
A fleeting glimpse of the fallen Colossus as he rushes towards Paris is afforded us by Alexandre Dumas, then staying with his mother at the posting-house of Villers-Cotterets, about fifty-five miles from the capital. The novelist had seen the Emperor pass through the little town before the crushing conflict. He had then been accompanied by General Letort and Jerome Bonaparte. Says Dumas:
“At seven o’clock a courier arrived; he was covered with mud, his horse shook from head to foot, and was ready to drop with fatigue. He ordered four horses to be ready for a carriage which was following him, then he leapt on his horse and set off on his journey again.
“It was in vain we questioned him; he either knew nothing or would not say anything.
“The four horses were taken out of the stables and harnessed in readiness for the carriage: a rapidly approaching heavy rumble announced it was coming, soon we saw it appear round the corner of the street and draw up at the door.
“The master of the post came forward and stood stupefied. I took hold of his coat tails and asked: ‘It is he? the Emperor?’
“‘Yes.’
“It was indeed the Emperor, just in the same place and carriage, with one aide-de-camp near him and one opposite him, as I had seen him before. But his companions were neither Jerome nor Letort. Letort was killed, and Jerome was commissioned to rally the army by Laon.
“It was just the same man, it was just the same pale, sickly, impassive face, but his head was bent a little more forward on his chest.
“Was it merely from fatigue, or from grief at having staked the world and lost it?