About seven o'clock, Napoleon's Guard were formed in two columns, under his own eye, near the bottom of the declivity of La Belle Alliance. They were put under command of the dauntless Ney. Buonaparte told the soldiers, and, indeed, imposed the same fiction on their commander, that the Prussians whom they saw on the right were retreating before Grouchy. Perhaps he might himself believe that this was true. The Guard answered, for the last time, with shouts of Vive l'Empereur, and moved resolutely forward, having, for their support, four battalions of the Old Guard in reserve, who stood prepared to protect the advance of their comrades. A gradual change had taken place in the English line of battle, in consequence of the repeated repulse of the French. Advancing by slow degrees, the right, which at the beginning of the conflict, presented a segment of a convex circle, now resembled one that was concave, the extreme right, which had been thrown back, being now rather brought forward, so that their fire both of artillery and infantry fell upon the flank of the French, who had also to sustain that which was poured on their front from the heights. The British were arranged in a line of four men deep, to meet the advancing columns of the French Guard, and poured upon them a storm of musketry which never ceased an instant. The soldiers fired independently, as it is called; each man loading and discharging his piece as fast as he could. At length the British moved forward, as if to close round the heads of the columns, and at the same time continued to pour their shot upon the enemy's flanks. The French gallantly attempted to deploy, for the purpose of returning the discharge; but in their effort to do so, under so dreadful a fire, they stopt, staggered, became disordered, were blended into one mass, and at length gave way, retiring, or rather flying, in the utmost confusion. This was the last effort of the enemy, and Napoleon gave orders for the retreat; to protect which, he had now no troops left, save the last four battalions of the Old Guard, which had been stationed in the rear of the attacking columns. These threw themselves into squares, and stood firm. But at this moment the Duke of Wellington commanded the whole British line to advance, so that whatever the bravery and skill of these gallant veterans, they also were thrown into disorder, and swept away in the general rout, in spite of the efforts of Ney, who, having had his horse killed, fought sword in hand, and on foot, in the front of the battle, till the very last.[146] That maréchal, whose military virtues at least cannot be challenged, bore personal evidence against two circumstances, industriously circulated by the friends of Napoleon. One of these fictions occurs in his own bulletin, which charges the loss of the battle to a panic fear, brought about by the treachery of some unknown persons, who raised the cry of "Sauve qui peut."[147] Another figment, greedily credited at Paris, bore, that the four battalions of Old Guard, the last who maintained the semblance of order, answered a summons to surrender, by the magnanimous reply, "The Guard can die, but cannot yield." And one edition of the story adds, that thereupon the battalions made a half wheel inwards, and discharged their muskets into each other's bosoms, to save themselves from dying by the hands of the English. Neither the original reply, nor the pretended self-sacrifice of the Guard, have the slightest foundation. Cambrone, in whose mouth the speech was placed, gave up his sword, and remained prisoner; and the military conduct of the French Guard is better eulogised by the undisputed truth, that they fought to extremity, with the most unyielding constancy, than by imputing to them an act of regimental suicide upon the lost field of battle.[148] Every attribute of brave men they have a just right to claim. It is no compliment to ascribe to them that of madmen. Whether the words were used by Cambrone or no, the Guard well deserved to have them inscribed on their monument.
Whilst this decisive movement took place, Bulow, who had concentrated his troops, and was at length qualified to act in force, carried the village of Planchenois in the French rear, and was now firing so close on their right wing, that the cannonade annoyed the British who were in pursuit, and was suspended in consequence. Moving in oblique lines, the British and Prussian armies came into contact with each other on the heights so lately occupied by the French, and celebrated the victory with loud shouts of mutual congratulation.
The French army was now in total and inextricable confusion and rout; and when the victorious generals met at the farm-house of La Belle Alliance, it was agreed that the Prussians, who were fresh in comparison, should follow up the chase, a duty for which the British, exhausted by the fatigues of a battle of eight hours, were totally inadequate.
During the whole action, Napoleon maintained the utmost serenity. He remained on the heights of La Belle Alliance, keeping pretty near the centre, from which he had a full view of the field, which does not exceed a mile and a half in length. He expressed no solicitude on the fate of the battle for a long time, noticed the behaviour of particular regiments, and praised the English several times, always, however, talking of them as an assured prey. When forming his guard for the last fatal effort, he descended near them, half down the causeway from La Belle Alliance, to bestow upon them what proved his parting exhortation. He watched intently their progress with a spyglass, and refused to listen to one or two aides-de-camp, who at that moment came from the right to inform him of the appearance of the Prussians. At length, on seeing the attacking columns stagger and become confused, his countenance, said our informer, became pale as that of a corpse, and muttering to himself, "They are mingled together," he said to his attendants, "All is lost for the present," and rode off the field; not stopping or taking refreshment till he reached Charleroi, where he paused for a moment in a meadow, and occupied a tent which had been pitched for his accommodation.[149]
Meantime, the pursuit of his discomfited army was followed up by Blucher with the most determined perseverance. He accelerated the march of the Prussian advanced guard, and despatched every man and horse of his cavalry upon the pursuit of the fugitive French. At Genappe they attempted something like defence, by barricading the bridge and streets; but the Prussians forced them in a moment, and although the French were sufficiently numerous for resistance, their disorder was so irremediable, and their moral courage was so absolutely quelled for the moment, that in many cases they were slaughtered like sheep. They were driven from bivouac to bivouac, without exhibiting even the shadow of their usual courage. One hundred and fifty guns were left in the hands of the English, and a like number taken by the Prussians in course of the pursuit. The latter obtained possession also of all Napoleon's baggage, and of his carriage, where, amongst many articles of curiosity, was found a proclamation intended to be made public at Brussels the next day.
LOSSES ON BOTH SIDES.
The loss on the British side during this dreadful battle was, as the Duke of Wellington, no user of exaggerated expressions, truly termed it, immense. One hundred officers slain, five hundred wounded, many of them to death, fifteen thousand men killed and wounded, (independent of the Prussian loss at Wavre,) threw half Britain into mourning. Many officers of distinction fell. It required all the glory, and all the solid advantages, of this immortal day, to reconcile the mind to the high price at which it was purchased. The commander-in-chief, compelled to be on every point of danger, was repeatedly in the greatest jeopardy. Only the Duke himself, and one gentleman, of his numerous staff, escaped unwounded in horse and person.
It would be difficult to form a guess at the extent of the French loss. Besides those who fell in the battle and flight, great numbers deserted. We do not believe, that of 75,000 men, the half were ever again collected under arms.[150]
Having finished our account of this memorable action, we are led to notice the communications and criticisms of Napoleon himself on the subject, partly as illustrative of the narrative, but much more as indicating his own character.