The battles of the world

by J. Douglas Borthwick

Grouchy then, was not at Waterloo, simply because Napoleon had sent him to Wavre, a town some twelve miles distant; and because he was there engaged in a struggle with the third Prussian corps. But the fourth Prussian corps was at Waterloo at five o’clock, because Blucher had promised to send it there, and because Wellington expected it; and gave battle with inferior forces, relying on this assistance. Napoleon ought to have foreseen the probability of all this,—and, foreseeing it, he ought to have delivered his blows more rapidly so as to break the English line, if that were possible, before the Prussians could enter the field. But now that he had allowed his opportunity to pass, and now that Bulow was actually beginning to take part in the battle,—what was the respective strength ranged on either side? This question must be answered; for Napoleon says, “The enemy’s army had just been augmented by 30,000 men, already ranged on the held of battle; thus placing 120,000 men against 69,000, or two to one.” (p. 148.) And then he immediately afterwards, adds “It was noon.”

This statement, however, like most of Napoleon’s other statements, is untrue. The Duke’s army had never amounted to 70,000 men, of whom some 10 or 15,000 were merely nominal combatants, whom it was impossible to persuade to fight. And Napoleon wilfully overlooks the plain averment of the Prussian official account, that when their commanders began the attack,—not at noon, but some time after half-past four, only two brigades, had arrived on the field. Captain Siborne, who took the greatest pains to ascertain every fact of the case, states that at half-past four o’clock the Prussian force which had come up, amounted to 16,000 men; which, added to the Duke’s army of 68,000, made a joint force of about 84,000; but, if the non-fighting part of the Duke’s army were deducted,—of scarcely 70,000. Thus, even with the addition of the newly-arrived Prussians, the allied force was still numerically weaker than Napoleon’s army.

This diversion, however, which was caused so opportunely by Bulow’s arrival, naturally brought great relief to the British line. It drew off Count Lobau’s corps, the sixth, of 7000 men, which might otherwise have been sent forward to attack the British centre. The remark, however, which is sometimes made, that “the English were saved by arrival of the Prussians,” is singularly absurd. Bulow’s arrival was not an unexpected thing; or a lucky chance;—it was a part of the Duke’s plan. He had demanded this aid of Blucher, and had obtained the promise of it, and without this aid, his acceptance of battle would have been an act of great temerity. The arrival of the Prussians, so far from being unexpected, had been calculated on three hours earlier; Blucher having promised that they should be in the field by two o’clock.

And sorely had they been needed. The “thin red line” of the British infantry had scarcely ever found it so difficult to maintain its ground. At this moment, as we have already remarked, there could not have been so many as 12,000 of this branch of the Duke’s army left in position. And yet upon them rested the whole burden of the battle. Some of the German troops behaved gallantly; but of the mixed mass of 25,000 Belgians, Hanoverians, Dutchmen, &c., a large proportion were unable to stand the French attacks. So soon as one of Napoleon’s columns approached them, they became unsteady, and often went to the rear. Meanwhile there still stood in front of the Duke’s right wing, the second corps; and in front of his left wing, the first corps; and all that were left of Napoleon’s “12,000 select cavalry” were riding about the British position, as if they were masters of it. This hour, then, or two hours, from five o’clock till seven, must have been a most anxious one for the British General and his troops. The commander of one brigade sent to the Duke to beg for some relief or reinforcement; and the answer he received was, “Tell him, that what he wishes is impossible. He, and I, and every man here, must fight till we die on the spot where we stand.” Some one asked for a general instruction, as to what plan should be followed if the Duke himself should fall. “My only plan,” said the Duke, “is to stand my ground here to the last man.” Long after the battle, he remarked, of this period of the day, “I looked oftener at my watch than at anything else. I knew that if my troops could keep their position till night, I must be joined by Blucher before morning; and we should not have left Bonaparte an army next day. But I was glad, as one hour of day-light slipped away after another, and our position was still maintained.” It is scarcely possible for words to imply more distinctly, that the Duke felt that he was standing his ground with an inferior force; relying on Blucher’s aid, to enable him to strike a blow in return.

Meanwhile, as he was constantly calm, so he was ever hopeful and high-minded. An Italian officer in the French service, being taken prisoner afterwards described the dismay he felt, on observing the quietness of the Duke’s demeanour, and the calmness of his countenance; which forced him to think that he must have some concealed reserve, of which the French generals knew nothing. His brief remarks, too, were always cheerful and reassuring. A young Piedmontese officer made himself useful, in carrying orders. “Were you ever in a battle before?” asked the Duke. “No, my lord.” “Then you are a lucky fellow, for you will never see such another!” was the rejoinder. At another time, encouraging the 95th regiment, expecting a charge of cavalry, he said, “Stand fast! 95th, we musn’t be beat; what would they say in England!” Shortly after, when the French cavalry came on with threatening aspect, he said, “Never mind, we’ll win this battle yet!” To a regiment exposed to a brisk cannonade, he remarked, “Hard pounding this! let’s see who’ll pound longest!” Often he was evidently the object of the enemy’s aim, and a tree under which he sometimes took his stand, was repeatedly struck. “That’s good practice,” said the Duke; “I think they fire better than in Spain.” But, as we have said, he was ever high-minded; and when an officer of artillery came to the Duke to tell him, that he had a clear view of Napoleon, and had several guns pointed in that direction, the Duke exclaimed, “No! I’ll not allow it. It is not the business of commanders to be firing upon one another!”

At half-past five, according to Count Drouet, the Prussians first came into collision with the sixth corps, which, with Domont’s cavalry, had been placed on Napoleon’s right wing, specially to give these new comers a warm reception. The contest soon became an earnest one on this side; Planchenoit, in the rear of Napoleon’s right centre, was taken, and retaken, and he felt obliged to send some battalions of the Young Guard to strengthen Count Lobau. In this new struggle an hour or more passed, and seven o’clock, the last hour of the day drew on.

Here Gourgaud stops to claim a triumph. He says, “65 to 68,000 French troops had beaten 115,000 English, Prussians, &c.” But then he adds, “The Emperor was of opinion that this was the moment for making a decisive attack, and determining the fate of the day.” So that, although the English and Prussians are assumed to be beaten, the “fate of the day” remains “to be determined.”

In fact, not one single step in retreat had the English army yet taken. About six o’clock, indeed, the farm-house of La Haye Sainte was abandoned by its English defenders, simply because their ammunition was expended, and without ammunition they could not defend the place. This was the one solitary advantage gained by the French in the whole day; and even this was not wrested by them from the English; the post was evacuated by the latter for the reason we have stated. And La Haye Sainte, it should be remembered, was about 200 yards in advance of the British line. It was an outpost, and not a part of the main line. Its capture at an earlier period might have seriously endangered the Duke’s centre; but at this late hour Napoleon had but one card left to play, and in playing it the possession of La Haye Sainte did not greatly aid him.

Up to seven o’clock, then, this one poor outpost was the only foot of ground gained by the French, in compensation for what Ney calls “the most frightful carnage that I have ever witnessed.” He is not here speaking of the defeat of the Imperial Guard, but of what preceded it. He had led, at one o’clock, the attack by D’Erlon’s corps on the centre and left of the English position, and at three o’clock he had sent the heavy cavalry in among the British battalions. It is of these two attacks that Ney is speaking, and of the manner in which they were repulsed; and this veteran soldier, after witnessing Borodino, Leipsic, and twenty other fields of slaughter, describes the defeat of the first corps, and the destruction of the cavalry, as a “carnage” the like of which he had never before beheld.

“The Emperor,” says Gourgaud, “was now of opinion that the moment was come for making a decisive attack, and determining the fate of the day.” Yes, the moment was come; for, if the matter had been left as it stood, Napoleon’s overthrow on the following morning would have been made certain. “I knew,” said the Duke, long after, “that if my troops could keep their position till night, I must be joined by Blucher before morning, and we should not have left Bonaparte an army next day.” To keep the English and Prussian armies apart had been Napoleon’s chief endeavour, but the sagacity and military talent of the two Generals had defeated this purpose. The French army had only crossed the frontier on the 15th, and here, on the 18th, were the two allied armies already uniting on the same battle-field. When, therefore, Gourgaud tells us, in lofty and decorous language, that “the Emperor was of opinion that this was the moment for making a decisive attack, and determining the fate of the day,” the real meaning of these dignified phrases is, that Napoleon saw that one chance only remained to him, and that he must break the British line by the whole force of the Imperial Guard, or retire from the field a discomfited commander; to sustain in his turn an attack from the united armies the very next day. His strongest army-corps, the first and second, had both been cut up and crippled; his splendid cavalry were at that moment being “massacred” by the English grapeshot and musket-firing; and the only weapon of power that remained to him was this noble body of men, who had triumphed in fifty battles—his invincible phalanx, the Imperial Guard. At seven o’clock, therefore, or about that hour, he turned to this, his last resource, and ordered to the front this chosen and favourite arm, the right employment of which had given him so many victories.