The main attack was against the British left and centre, but by way of diversion an attempt was first made on the wood of Hougoumont, which was carried after so determined a resistance that Alison, the historian, afterwards counted no fewer than twenty-two shots in a tree less than six inches in diameter; fairly conclusive evidence of the death-dealing shower faced by the Nassauers and Hanoverians defending the copse and of the vigour of the enemy. The château was then attacked, contrary to orders, by Jerome Bonaparte, and brilliantly repulsed by the light companies of the second battalions of Coldstream and Foot Guards.[95] Several attempts were afterwards made to secure the place, and dead bodies lay piled in heaps, but those within held it from the beginning to the end of the battle, although Wellington found it necessary to reinforce the men who were upholding Britain’s honour so determinedly. The orchard was captured and regained, howitzers battered the stout walls, the building was set on fire, the door of the courtyard was burst open and shut in the face of the French. These deeds were performed by the fellows of whom Napoleon had spoken earlier in the day as “breakfast for us!”
It was not until about half-past one o’clock, when a black, moving mass was seen on the wooded heights of St Lambert that the Emperor really bestirred himself. Napoleon looked through his glass in the direction of the object on which nearly all eyes were strained. Some of his officers thought it a body of troops, some suggested Prussians, others Grouchy. “I think,” remarked Soult, “it is five or six thousand men, probably part of Grouchy’s army.” In reality it was the advanced guard of Bülow’s troops, and the Emperor shortly afterwards heard from the lips of a prisoner that at least 30,000 men were approaching to assist Wellington. However, some light horsemen were sent towards Frischermont to observe the Prussians,[96] and a postscript was added to a dispatch already penned to Grouchy, begging him to “lose not an instant in drawing near and joining us, in order to crush Bülow, whom you will catch in the very act.”
Without delay Napoleon launched D’Erlon’s corps in four columns totalling nearly 20,000 men against the enemy’s left-centre, Ney in command. They were supported by far too few cavalry. The Emperor’s idea was to take La Haye Sainte, break through the Allied line, and gain Mont St Jean. This operation, if successful, would compel Wellington to abandon his communications with the Belgian capital and change his formation. In addition, it would place the French between his army and the Prussians. Bylandt’s Dutch-Belgians, who were nearest to the enemy and consequently more exposed to the covering fire of seventy-eight guns and the shots of the skirmishers, took to their heels as D’Erlon’s divisions, frantically yelling “Vive l’Empereur!” approached the front line.[97] The brigades of Pack and Kempt were at once brought forward by Picton. They stood firm and poured death into the oncoming columns, receiving them, as they appeared on the crest of the ridge, with fixed bayonets.
The Earl of Uxbridge, who was in command of the cavalry, realizing that the position was still one of considerable danger, then ordered Ponsonby’s Union Brigade—the 1st Royal Dragoons, Scots Greys, and Inniskillings—to charge. It burst upon the French with tremendous force and decided the issue.
Several thousands of the enemy were killed or wounded, 8000 taken prisoners, a number of guns silenced, and two eagles captured.
The story of how the colours of the French 45th Regiment were secured by Serjeant Ewart, a magnificent specimen of a man, over six feet in height, who served in the Greys, is best told in his own modest language. “It was in the charge I took the eagle from the enemy,” he says; “he and I had a hard contest for it; he made a thrust at my groin, I parried it off and cut him down through the head. After this a lancer came at me; I threw the lance off by my right side, and cut him through the chin and upwards through the teeth. Next, a foot-soldier fired at me, and then charged me with his bayonet, which I also had the good luck to parry, and then I cut him down through the head; thus ended the contest. As I was about to follow my regiment, the General said, ‘My brave fellow, take that to the rear; you have done enough till you get quit of it.’ I took the eagle to the ridge, and afterwards to Brussels.”
We have also the record of Captain Clark Kennedy, of the Royal Dragoons, regarding the capture of the eagle of the 105th Regiment. “I was,” he relates, “in command of the centre squadron of the Royal Dragoons in this charge; while following up the attack, I perceived a little to my left, in the midst of a body of infantry, an eagle and colour, which the bearer was making off with towards the rear. I immediately gave the order to my squadron, ‘Right shoulders forward!’ at the same time leading direct upon the eagle and calling out to the men with me to secure the colour; the instant I got within reach of the officer who carried the eagle, I ran my sword into his right side, and he staggered and fell, but did not reach the ground on account of the pressure of his companions: as the officer was in the act of falling, I called out a second time to some men close behind me, ‘Secure the colour, it belongs to me.’ The standard coverer, Corporal Styles, and several other men rushed up, and the eagle fell across my horse’s head against that of Corporal Styles’s. As it was falling, I caught the fringe of the flag with my left hand, but could not at first pull up the eagle: at the second attempt, however, I succeeded. Being in the midst of French troops, I attempted to separate the eagle from the staff, to put it into the breast of my coatee, but it was too firmly fixed. Corporal Styles said, ‘Sir, don’t break it’; to which I replied, ‘Very well; carry it off to the rear as fast as you can.’ He did so.”
Unfortunately the victors were too eager, and instead of returning they continued until they were in the French lines, thus enabling Napoleon to “turn the tables.” His reserve squadrons robbed the British ranks of 1000 brave men, including Ponsonby. More would have fallen had not Vandeleur’s Light Cavalry Brigade checked the enemy.
Picton was dead, shot at the head of his men. “When you hear of my death,” the latter had previously remarked to a comrade, “you will hear of a bloody day.” He had “fallen gloriously at the head of his division, maintaining a position which, if it had not been kept, would have altered the fate of the day.”[98]
The following account of the magnificent charge of Ponsonby’s Union Brigade, from the pen of James Armour, Rough-rider to the Scots Greys, who took part in it, gives some idea of the work performed: