The French marshal complains that the first corps, originally assigned to him, and which he had left at Frasnes in reserve, had been withdrawn by Napoleon without any intimation, and never employed during the entire day, and thus, as Ney writes to Fouche, “twenty-five or thirty thousand men were, I may say, paralysed, and idly paraded during the battle, from the right to the left, and the left to the right, without firing a shot.” All this admitted, surely his means were amply sufficient to have warranted a certain victory. In numbers his cavalry were infinitely superior, his artillery was equally powerful, while in those important arms, Wellington was miserably weak, and all he had to oppose to his stronger antagonist were the splendid discipline and indomitable courage of British infantry.
The loss sustained by the British and their allies in this glorious and hard-contested battle amounted to three thousand seven hundred and fifty, hors de combat. Of course, the British suffered most severely, having three hundred and twenty men killed, and two thousand one hundred and fifty-five wounded. The Duke of Brunswick fell in the act of rallying his troops, and an immense number of British officers were found among the slain and wounded. During an advanced movement, the 92nd, while repulsing an attack of both cavalry and infantry, met a French column, retreating to the wood, which halted and turned its fire on the Highlanders, already assailed by a superior force. Notwithstanding, the regiment bravely held its ground until relieved by a regiment of the Guards, when it retired to its original position. In this brief and sanguinary conflict, its loss amounted to twenty-eight officers, and nearly three hundred men.
The casualties, when compared with the number of the combatants, will appear enormous. Most of the battalions lost their commanding officers, and the rapid succession of subordinate officers on whom the command devolved, told how fast the work of death went on. Trifling wounds were disregarded, and men severely hurt refused to retire to the rear, or rejoined their colours after a temporary dressing. Picton’s was a remarkable instance of this disregard of suffering; he was severely wounded at Quatre Bras, and the fact was only ascertained after his glorious fall at Waterloo.
The French loss, according to their own returns, was “very considerable, amounting to four thousand two hundred killed or wounded”; and Ney in his report says, “I was obliged to renounce my hopes of victory; and in spite of all my efforts, in spite of the intrepidity and devotion of my troops, my utmost efforts could only maintain me in my position till the close of the day.”
Ney fell back upon the road to Frasnes. The moon rose angrily, still a few cannon-shot were heard after the day had departed; but gradually they ceased. The fires were lighted, and such miserable provisions as could be procured were furnished to the harassed soldiery; and while strong pickets were posted in the front and flanks, the remnant of the British, with their brave allies, piled their arms and stretched themselves on the field.
While the British held their battleground, the Prussians had been obliged to retire in the night from Ligny. This, however, was not ascertained until morning, as the aide-de-camp despatched with the intelligence to Quatre Bras had unfortunately been killed on the road. Corps after corps arrived during the night, placing the Duke of Wellington in a position to have become assailant next morning had Blucher succeeded in maintaining his position, and repulsed Napoleon’s attack.
The night passed, the wounded were removed, the dead partially buried; disabled guns were repaired, ammunition served out, and all was ready for “a contest on the morrow.”
The intelligence of the Prussian retreat, of course, produced a correspondent movement, and the Duke of Wellington, to maintain his communications with Marshal Blucher, decided on falling back upon a position in front of the village of Waterloo, which had been already surveyed, and selected by the allied leader as the spot on which he should make a stand.