“‘Well, on reaching headquarters, and thinking how bravely my old horse had carried me all day, I could not help going up to his head to tell him so by a few caresses. But hang me, if, when I was giving him a slap of approbation on his hind-quarters, he did not fling out one of his hind legs with as much vigour as if he had been in stable for a couple of days. Remember, gentlemen, he had been out with me on his back for upwards of ten hours, and had carried me eight and twenty miles besides. I call that bottom! ey?’”
Then there is another piece of evidence. Colonel Maurice says:—[557]
“Mr. Coltman—a well-known barrister now alive—remembers to have distinctly heard his father, then Mr. Justice Coltman of the Common Pleas, tell the story, and say that he had heard it from the Duke’s own mouth during a particular visit to the Duke at Strathfieldsaye in a named year, 1838. He wrote to me, giving the story substantially, though not with quite as much detail, and making the horse’s kicking out in reply to the caress take place on the 18th instead of on the 17th, as it appears in Young’s narrative. He had at the time never seen Young’s book. Obviously, the difference as to the day of the kick is just such a lapse as would naturally occur in a narrative not written down at the time. Either may be right.”
Notwithstanding the improbable features in these accounts,—and there are many,[558]—it is at first sight difficult to account for the existence of this evidence, except on the supposition that the story is true. But a close examination of the so-called Diary of the Rev. Mr. Young shows that it is not, strictly speaking, a diary at all, for the stories and remarks contained in it were not set down at the time, as in an ordinary journal. Thus, this very story, the date of which is given as 1833, is entered under the date of October 7, 1832. (Diary, p. 153.) Take another instance. The writer is speaking of Mr. John Wilson Croker, and he says, under date of March, 1832 (pp. 144, 145), that “for forty years he [Croker] filled a prominent position in the world of letters.” Now forty years before 1832, Croker was only twelve years old. Again, in this very story of the ride to Wavre, which is said to have been told in 1833, the Duke is made to say of his horse Copenhagen that he had then “been long dead.” But, in fact, Copenhagen did not die till 1836; the date of his death is given on the grave-stone erected over his remains at Strathfieldsaye.
As for the letter of Mr. Coltman to Colonel Maurice, which is a statement recently made of the former’s recollection of what he had heard his father say that the Duke of Wellington told him in 1838, it clearly cannot have much weight, unless corroborated.
There is, moreover, some newly-discovered evidence. It consists of notes taken by the late Baron Gurney, of the Court of the Exchequer, of conversations with the Duke of Wellington. In one of these, the Duke was asked “whether a story was true of his having ridden over to Blücher the night before the battle of Waterloo and returned on the same horse. He said: ‘No; that was not so. I did not see Blücher the day before Waterloo.’” This seems to settle the question.
3. We have spoken briefly of Napoleon’s opinion, that the Duke of Wellington and Marshal Blücher ought to have retired on Brussels. The passage to which we referred reads as follows:—[559]
“One may ask,—What ought the English general to have done after the battle of Ligny and the combat of Quatre Bras? There cannot be two opinions on this subject. He ought on the night of the 17th and 18th to have traversed the Forest of Soignes by the Charleroi pike, while the Prussian army was traversing it by the Wavre pike; the two armies could then unite at daybreak before Brussels, leaving rearguards to defend the forest,—gain some days to give those of the Prussians who had been dispersed by the battle of Ligny time to rejoin the army,—obtain reinforcements from the fourteen English regiments which were either in garrison in Belgium or had just landed at Ostend on their return from America,—and leave the Emperor of the French to manœuvre as he liked. Would he, with an army of 100,000 men, have traversed the forest of Soignes to attack on the other side of it the two hostile armies united, more than 200,000 strong, and in position? That would certainly have been the most advantageous thing that could happen to the allies. Would he have been contented to take up a position himself? He certainly could not have kept it long, for 300,000 Russians, Austrians, and Bavarians, already arrived at the Rhine, would in a few weeks have been on the Marne, which would have obliged him to fly to the defence of the capital. Then, the Anglo-Prussian army could have marched forward, and joined their allies under the walls of Paris.”
It is plain that the course pointed out by the Emperor would have avoided all the risks incurred by Wellington in giving battle at Waterloo, with the needed support not available until afternoon. But Clausewitz[560] denies that Wellington incurred any risk.