Almost one of the last shells fired by the enemy that evening, lighted within half-a-yard of me, and immediately exploded. But on perceiving it fall, I threw myself flat on the ground, and thereby escaped without a scratch.
Immediately after being wounded, Colonel Cameron, of the 92d regiment, was removed from Quatre-Bras to Genappe, where, on the wound being examined, it was discovered to be mortal. On the following morning he was placed in a waggon, with the view of being conveyed to Brussels. On the way, he complained greatly of the jolting of the carriage, and repeatedly inquired if the French had been defeated. On getting an answer in the affirmative, he said, "Then I die happy!" On receiving an answer to one of his questions, a little before his speech failed him, he added, "I hope my country will think I have done enough,—I hope she will think that I have served her faithfully." When close to the village of Waterloo, the gallant Colonel laid back his head on his servant's arm, and expired. To shew the estimation in which the services of this truly brave officer were held by his Sovereign, Mr Ewen Cameron, of Fassifern, the Colonel's father, was raised to the rank of a Baronet of the United Kingdom. And on his native hills a handsome monument was erected, on which there is the following inscription, written by Sir Walter Scott.
Sacred to the Memory
OF
COLONEL JOHN CAMERON,
Eldest Son of Sir Ewen Cameron of Fassifern, Baronet;
Whose Mortal Remains,
Transported from the Field of Glory, where he died,
Rest here with those of his Forefathers.
During Twenty years of active Military Service,
With a spirit which knew no fear, and shunned no danger;
He accompanied or led,
In Marches, in Sieges, in Battles,
The gallant 92nd Regiment of Scottish Highlanders,
Always to Honour, almost always to Victory;
And at length,
In the Forty-second year of his age,
Upon the memorable 16th day of June, A.D. 1815,
Was slain in the command of that corps,
While actively contributing to achieve the decisive
Victory of
WATERLOO,
Which gave peace to Europe,
Thus closing his Military career
With the long and eventful struggle in which,
His services had been so often distinguished,—
He died lamented
By that unrivalled General,
To whose long train of Success and Victory
He had so often contributed.
By his Country,
From which he had repeatedly received marks
Of the highest consideration;
And
By His Sovereign,
Who graced his surviving family
With those marks of honour,
Him whose merit
They were designed to commemorate.
Reader,
Call not his fate untimely,
Who thus honoured and lamented,
Closed a Life of Fame, by a Death of Glory.
Seated behind the houses of Quatre-Bras on the morning of the 17th, I received a message from a wounded soldier, named Robinson, intimating that he was in possession of a book which he was sure I would like to read. I lost no time in visiting him, and on opening the volume, was not a little surprised on discovering it to be the history of Scotland's champion, Sir William Wallace, once the property of a French soldier, whose name was inscribed on one of the blank leaves, and who had no doubt fallen in the conflict in the after-part of the 16th. At that time the histories of Wallace and Bruce were much read by the French soldiers; and I believe it is a well authenticated fact, that Bonaparte seldom went on a campaign without a copy of Ossian's Poems in his possession.
Envy, we are told, is the blackest passion in the human breast, and the most prevailing infirmity to which we are subject. History affords us the most decisive proof we could desire, that it has often tarnished the character of men, who otherwise had a well-earned title to fame and renown. What, for example, has tarnished the character of Alexander the Great, so much as this unamiable passion, which reigned in his breast with sovereign authority during the whole of his extraordinary career? Since that period, how many thousands of Alexanders has this world of ours contained? How many are there even at this moment amongst us, who, like the great conqueror, ambitious of nothing so much as to rise to the first rank in the scale of human society, envy every individual who excel them in any of those arts or sciences which rivet the attention, and command the admiration of the world? That the Duke of Wellington has been deeply indebted to the members of this rather amiable society, for the many slanderous reports circulated during the last thirty years, in regard to his military conduct in India, &c. there cannot be the smallest doubt. Like many other dupes, I gave ear to the gossip of the day, and for some time credit to it. For although courage is a most indispensable qualification in every general at the head of an army, yet history is not without examples of generals deficient in valour, not only performing their duties satisfactorily, but even raising their own and their country's glory by splendid victories. But all the doubts I had previously entertained on the subject were completely dissipated at Quatre-Bras. For there the Field-Marshal gave proofs to the world, which no individual, however venomous his tongue may be, can controvert, that he possesses moral courage in as eminent a degree as any general that ever entered a field of strife. How would his Grace's slanderers have looked, if stationed within a few yards of him, as I was for four hours on the 16th, and there beheld him, amidst showers of every description of shot, directing the movements of his columns with that firmness and coolness, so characteristic of the brave and consummate warrior? The very smile which sat on his countenance during the whole of the action, would have struck them dumb, and covered them with such a load of shame and disgrace, that they would have embraced the first opportunity afforded them, of hiding their convicted countenances from the stern glance of the object of their envy.
Some people seem to think, that a general at the head of an army is bound to expose himself on all occasions in the same manner as any of the junior officers. A more erroneous opinion, however, of the duties of a general, could not well be conceived; for it is the bounden duty of a general-in-chief, never, but in cases of the very last importance, to expose to unnecessary peril, a life upon which so many others depend. As a general-in-chief owes obedience to none but his sovereign, it belongs to him exclusively to judge how far he ought to expose himself, and those under him, in order to accomplish the object of his commission; and in proportion as his life is more necessary for that object than the lives of his soldiers, in the same proportion should he be more sparing of it than of the lives of his men. A general in fact ought never to expose his life without a necessary cause, or the prospect of reaping such important advantages, that the risk he runs may be trifling in comparison of the successes which he hopes to obtain by it.
About five o'clock in the morning of the 17th, the Duke of Wellington arrived at Quatre-Bras from Genappe, and the morning being rather cold, his Grace, on alighting, said, "Ninety-second, will you favour me with a little fire?" The request had no sooner escaped his lips, than a hundred men flew in as many different directions, in search of the necessary materials. On returning, the men made a fire opposite to the door of a small hut, constructed of the boughs of some trees, which the poor fellows attempted to render a residence suitable for the reception of their General. For their attention, the Duke expressed himself extremely grateful. In this splendid airy residence, the Field-Marshal received the Prince of Orange, Lord Hill, and many other officers of distinction; in this rural cottage he received the first tidings of Blucher's misfortunes,—and here it was that the order of retreat to the position of Waterloo was arranged.