Buonaparte had remained in the ravine under the British lines, until he had witnessed the defeat of his hitherto invincible guards; he then hastily retired to his former position near the farm of La Belle Alliance. Here he beheld, with mingled rage and despair, the superb charge of the whole British line, the feeble resistance which his troops opposed, and the irremediable confusion which so soon pervaded his whole army. During the day, except when he had yielded to momentary paroxysms of rage at the unconquerable obstinacy of the British, he had been cool and collected, and had fought the battle with more than ordinary skill. But he now seemed to be deprived of the powers of recollection, and stood an image of horror and despair. Some indistinct and incoherent expressions of admiration of his devoted guard, or of indignation at the cowardice of the rest of his troops, alone shewed that he breathed. In vain his officers applied to him for orders; in vain one messenger after another enquired what was to be done in different parts of the field. He regarded them now. "My guard, my faithful guard!" he exclaimed. A moment afterwards he added, "Ah! they are thrown into confusion! the game is indeed lost!" He was now surrounded and borne away by crowds of fugitives.
For a few moments he sought refuge, with a few of his officers, in the cottage of a shepherd, near La Belle Alliance; but, as the Prussian hussars had began to scour the field in every direction, he thought proper to abandon his army to their fate, and to seek his own safety in the most rapid flight.
As the Corsican and his suite issued from the cottage, and galloped across the plain to reach some of his retinue, they saw several parties of Prussian hussars busily employed in revenging the calamities of their country. They were not perceived, and Napoleon was conducted to one of his carriages. He drove furiously towards Gemappe. Having arrived there he found the streets completely thronged with carriages of all descriptions. They were all obliged to pass over one bridge, and, in their haste to effect their escape, they impeded each other's progress, and produced the most dreadful confusion. For more than an hour he remained entangled in the crowd, which resisted every effort to open a passage. Every moment new crowds of fugitives, cavalry, infantry, guns, baggage-waggons, and carriages of every description, rushed into the place, increased the tumult, and rendered the passage of the bridge impracticable.
To complete the horror of the scene, the Prussians now approached. Their shouts were plainly heard, mingled with the shrieks of the miserable wretches who were perishing under their sabres.
The streets were hastily barricaded, and every preparation which despair or terror could suggest was made for a last defence. The Prussians, however, soon broke through every obstacle, and entered the town at full speed.
Buonaparte's carriage was soon recognized, and the conquerors dashed at it, in the hope of taking the Corsican himself. The coachman and the postillion were making a desperate attempt to force their way through the throng. The Prussian officer, who headed the foremost troop, called to the coachman to stop, but he only lashed his horses with increasing violence. The hussars then cut down the postillion, and killed the leaders, while the sabre of their officer brought the coachman from his box at one blow. He then deemed his prize secure; but, as he opened the door, Napoleon escaped from the opposite side, and, before the Prussian could pass round the carriage, he had mounted a horse, and was lost in the throng. In his haste he dropped his hat, his sword, and his mantle, which were found by the side of the carriage in the road.
The carriage was afterwards brought to England by the officer into whose hands it fell, and is now exhibited in a museum, in Piccadilly. This vehicle was build at Brussels to convey Buonaparte on his memorable expedition to Russia. It travelled as far as Moscow, and was almost the only equipage which escaped in his disastrous retreat. It afterwards carried the Corsican to Dresden, and brought him back a second time in disgrace to France. After his abdication, it conveyed him to the shores of the Mediterranean, and was shipped with him to Elba, where it was there used in all his excursions round the island. When he planned the second usurpation, his troops were permitted to take neither equipage nor baggage, but his favourite travelling-carriage was carefully shipped, and landed at Cannes. His journey to Paris was chiefly performed in it, nor would he quit it, although the state-carriages were despatched from Paris to convey him in triumph to the Thuilleries. When he departed to join his armies in the north of France, this carriage again accompanied him, and, in his disgraceful flight from Waterloo, it fell into the hands of his triumphant enemies.
It nearly resembles a fashionable English travelling-carriage, though with a greater appearance of heaviness. Its colour is dark blue, bordered with gold, and ornamented with the imperial arms of France. The lamps have a curious appearance, one is at each corner, and another in the centre of the back, which illuminates the inside of the carriage.
The interior presents the most perfect specimen of elegance and convenience which can be conceived. It is a complete office, bed-chamber, dressing-room, eating-room, and kitchen. Packed up in the most ingenious way, as a complete breakfast-service for tea, coffee, and chocolate, including a spirit-lamp; sandwich-service, consisting of plates, knives, forks, spoons, salt, pepper and mustard boxes, decanter and glasses; a dressing-care, containing every article for the toilette; a complete wardrobe; a bedstead, bed, and mattrass; and all so arranged as to be found in an instant.
Leaving, for a while, Napoleon to pursue his flight towards Paris, we shall lay before the reader the official accounts of that memorable and important battle, the outline of which has been previously given:—