Please note that all footnotes are mine.
When the French troops were all drawn up on the opposite heights, one of the Duke of Wellington's officers expressed some alarm, and wished that the Prussians were arrived. "The roads are heavy," replied the British hero. "They cannot be here before two or three o'clock, but my brave fellows will keep double that force at bay until then."
About eleven o'clock the cannonade commenced, and soon became general through the whole of the line. At half-past eleven, the left wing of the French advanced against the chateau of Hougoumont. The battalions which occupied the wood in front defended themselves with great gallantry against the overwhelming numbers that pressed upon them; but, after many repeated attacks, the French penetrated to the house. The English were now reinforced by the second brigade of guards, who, occupying the chateau, and lining the orchard and walls, resisted every attempt to dislodge them. The French forced their way to the very doors of the chateau, but were there received with so well-directed fire that they retreated in confusion, or perished beneath the bayonet. Again they penetrated, and again were forced back. In less than half an hour fifteen hundred men perished in the orchard, which did not comprise more than four acres.
After some time, the house and out-buildings were set on fire, and a most dreadful scene ensued. In one part of the combat raged with unabated fury, although both parties were enveloped with flames. In another, the British, after having repulsed the enemy, were unwilling to quit their station, although the flames were advancing towards them, and the building threatened to crush them into ruins. In one of the out-buildings the wounded of both parties, who were indiscriminately heaped together, perished by the most terrible death. Their shrieks and groans echoed through the wood; but the combatants were too fiercely engaged to lend them any assistance, and they were left to perish in the conflagration.
The chateau was now reduced to a mere shell, and the French were enabled to approach it with greater facility; but, as often as they penetrated within the walls, they were repulsed by the bayonet, and at length, being foiled in all their attempts, and having suffered an immense loss, they retreated to the main body. The British had received orders not to pursue them beyond a certain point, and contented themselves with still maintaining the post which they had so nobly defended.
Had the French been able to gain possession of this position, and to have planted their artillery precisely at the angle which it occupied, they would have commanded the whole of the Duke of Wellington's lines, and their fire would have carried destruction through the British army. The reader will therefore perceive why this was selected as the first object of attack, and why that attack was continued with such obstinacy. 1
When Buonaparte was convinced that he had failed in his design upon Hougoumont, the fire of cannon and musketry became more terrible. Columns of French infantry and cavalry, preceded by a formidable artillery, advanced from all points, ascended the eminence on which the British were stationed, and precipitated themselves on their squares. In vain the French artillery mowed down entire ranks of their opponents. The chasms were instantly filled, and not a foot of ground was lost. "What brave troops!" exclaimed Buonaparte to his staff. "It is a pity to destroy them; but I shall defeat them at last." The British reserved their fire until the enemy had approached within a few paces, and then, with one well-directed volley, levelled whole squadrons of the French. Other troops, however, succeeded, and the enemy pressed on to closer and more destructive combat.
The principal masses of the French were now directed on the left of the British, where the divisions of Generals Picton and Kempt were posted. Napoleon's object in this attack was to turn the left of the allies, and, by separating them from the Prussians, cut off the retreat of Lord Wellington in that direction. The Scottish regiments displayed all the heroism by which they had been distinguished in the battle of the 16th, and sustained the principal brunt of the attack.
A strong column of the enemy advanced under a galling fire from the British artillery, without discharging a shot. they gained the height, and pressed on, resolved to carry the position. Sir Thomas Picton immediately formed his division into a solid square, and advanced to the charge. Appalled by the boldness of this manśuvre, the French hesitated, fired one volley, and retreated.
On this occasion, Sir Thomas Picton received a musket-ball in his temple, and expired without a struggle. After his lamented fall, it was discovered that he had received a wound in the hip, on the 16th, which he had concealed from all except his valet, and which had assumed a serious aspect for want of surgical assistance.
Eulogy on the career of Sir Thomas Picton.
A column of two thousand men bore down on the position occupied by the ninety-second regiment, which, from the losses it had sustained on the 16th, and the galling fire to which it had now been exposed, was reduced to two hundred men. This little, but heroic, band shrunk not from the unequal contest. They did not even wait for the attack, but forming themselves into line, and presenting a narrow, but compact front, charged on the column with such impetuosity that they pierced the centre, when the Scotch Greys, profiting by the confusion, dashed in at the opening. The two regiments cheered each other, shouting, "Scotland for ever!" and the enemy were, to a man, either killed or taken prisoners.
A column of French cavalry, with the cuirassiers at their head, now advanced to the relief of their infantry. The Scotch Greys, in the mean time, had been reinforced by a brigade of heavy dragoons, and the most dreadful engagement now took place. The impenetrable cuirasses of the French gave them a decided advantage over the English, who could only strike at the neck or limbs of their opponents. Nothing, however, could resist the determined valour of the British, and, after a long and sanguinary conflict, the cuirassiers turned their horses and fled. The slaughter was then dreadful, but the British had strict orders not to pursue them beyond the lines, and the scattered remnant of the French sought refuge in the rear of their infantry. In this struggle, the forty-ninth and one hundred and fifth French regiments lost their eagles.
At this period of the engagement Sir William Ponsonby led his brigade against the Polish lancers, and checked their destructive attacks on the British infantry. Never was a more timely, or a more successful, charge: but the impetuous valour of two of his regiments hurrying them too far in the pursuit, he galloped forward, attended by only one aide-de-camp, to restrain their rashness. He entered a newly-ploughed field where the ground was exceedingly soft, and, being badly mounted, his horse sunk in the mire, and was unable to extricate itself. At this instant a body of lancers approached him at full speed. Sir William saw that his fate was decided. He took out a picture and his watch, and was in the act of giving them to his aide-de-camp, to deliver to his wife and family, when the lancers came up, and killed them on the spot. His body was found lying by the side of his horse, pierced with seven wounds. Many of those whose temerity led to the destruction of their chief, perished here; but, before the day was ended, the Polish lancers were almost entirely cut to pieces by the brigade which this gallant officer had led against them. 2
Buonaparte now changed the object of his attack, and, bringing up a formidable body of fresh troops, directed them to attack the farm of La Haye Sainte. This was a point of equal importance with the position of Hougoumont, or that of Ter La Haye. 3If the Corsican were successful here, he would break the British line, and cut off the retreat of Lord Wellington on the road to Brussels.
Both parties felt the importance of this position, and made the utmost exertions, the one to carry, and the other to maintain it. As the respective battalions were weakened or destroyed, fresh reinforcements immediately occupied their places, and for upwards of an hour the conflict continued with very doubtful success. Al length the ammunition of the allies was expended, and the French penetrated to the farm, and surrounded it. Yet, under these circumstances, the German Legion, which occupied it, continued to defend themselves with the bayonet; nor was the position carried until all its defenders were annihilated.
Napoleon instantly seized the advantage which he had now gained, and, pressing on with immense masses of infantry and cavalry, attacked the centre, which was now exposed. The first battalion that he encountered, overwhelmed by superior numbers, gave way and the Corsican, considering the victory secure, despatched a courier to Paris with the intelligence that the day was won.
Had he now brought forward all his reserves of infantry, or waited until the British squares had been thrown into confusion, by the fire of his artillery, or the furious charges of his foot-soldiers, it might have been impossible even for the Duke of Wellington to have restored the fortune of the day. But, following up his advantages too hastily, and conceiving that the new levies of the duke could not resist the shock of his cavalry, he ordered them to advance and charge upon the centre of the allies. 4
The lancers and cuirassiers rushed on at the head of the columns, and precipitated themselves on the British squares. A few battalions, who were slow or awkward in their evolutions, were instantly cut to pieces; but wherever the squares were formed, the enemy could make no impression. In vain the French cavalry, defended by their armour, walked their horses round the British squares, and dashed at the slightest opening; in vain, when they arrived within a short distance, a few of them rushed on, and would have sacrificed themselves, by receiving the fire of their opponents, while the main body waited to charge on the British before they could re-load their muskets, or fill up the chasms. The cool intrepidity of the allied infantry baffled all attempts to break them. 5
Other squadrons of French cavalry penetrated between the squares, and charged on the position which the duke and his staff occupied. It was their evident object to signalize themselves by the death or capture of the British hero. His personal escort was obliged to be continually on the alert, and was frequently closely engaged with the enemy.
The British cavalry now advanced and charged the cuirassiers, lancers, and chasseurs, who had penetrated the line, and the battle was contested man to man.
Buonaparte was now convinced that he had committed a grand error; and the whole centre of his infantry was brought forward to the assist; and, if possible, to disengage the cavalry. A close column of French accordingly pressed forward, overpowered all resistance, and marched on to attack the village of Mont St. Jean, in the rear of the British position.
The Duke of Wellington was perfectly aware of the critical situation in which he was now placed, and, presenting himself wherever the danger was most imminent, led on in person several successive charges. 6 When any of the squares appeared to waver, he threw himself into the midst of them, and, by a few words, re-animated the confirmed their courage. At length, he succeeded in arresting the progress of the enemy, and wresting from them all the advantages they had gained. They were driven from the eminence which they had carried; the form of La Haye [Sainte] was retaken, and the combatants again occupied the positions which they had held at the commencement of the affair, except that Buonaparte's troops continued to occupy a small mound on the left side of the road from Brussels to Charleroi, and from which they could not be dislodged, till the grand advance of the British army at the close of the engagement. 7
The duke now found it extremely difficult to restrain the impetuosity of his troops. Wherever he appeared, he was hailed with enthusiastic shouts, and his soldiers, tired of standing for so many hours exposed to a murderous fire, and their energies confined to merely driving back the squadrons which rushed upon them, eagerly demanded to be led against the foe. "Not yet, not yet, my brave fellows!" was the duke's reply. "Be firm a little longer; you shall have at them by and by." 8
The attack on Hougoumont had recommenced, and continued during the day, but the French were unable to obtain even a momentary possession of it. Bringing forward, however, some strong bodies of infantry and cavalry, they made a circuit round the chateau, and advanced to the eminence by which it was commanded. Here, as in the centre, their cavalry boldly penetrated the squares, and, for a short time, appeared masters of the position; but the British dragoons coming up, an awful scene of confusion ensued. The artillery of the two armies was still opposed, and poured forth an incessant torrent of round and grape-shot. Suddenly the artillery would wheel round, and massive columns of infantry would advance, and either engage with the bayonet; while, in the rear of the allied infantry, the cavalry of the two armies maintained a gallant and doubtful combat.
The thirtieth regiment sustained several charges of the cuirassiers. Defended by their breast-plates, they galloped up to the very bayonets of the infantry, hoping that some opening might be made through which they might penetrate; but, in no instance, did they succeed in making the least impression. The horsemen had no sooner passed than the regiment again deployed into line, that its fire might be more extended and effectual. They had scarcely completed the evolution, when the command was again given, "Reform square; prepare to receive cavalry." The whole were prostrate on their breasts, to let the iron shower of the artillery fly over, and erect in an instant, when the cannon ceased, and the cavalry charged.
Unable to break in upon the square by open force, a commanding officer of cuirassiers tried a ruse de guerre; he lowered his sword to General Halket. Several of the officers called out, "Sir, they surrender."—"BE FIRM AND FIRE," was the promptly obeyed answer. The general justly suspected an offer of surrender to a body of infantry fixed to the spot in a defensive position, by a body of cavalry, who had the option of galloping off with all the plain open behind them. The volley sent the colonel and his cuirassiers, as usual, about, with a laugh of derision from the men he had meant to cut to pieces; and many a ring from their balls, upon the back-pieces of the mails.
This gallant brigade was honoured with several visits from the illustrious commander-in-chief. In one he inquired, "how they were?" The answer was, "that two-thirds of their number were down, and that the rest were so exhausted, that leave to retire, even for a short time, was most desirable; and some of the foreign corps, who had not suffered, to take their place. General Halket was told that the issue depended on the unflinching front of the British troops; and that even a change of place was hazardous in the extreme. He immediately replied with energy, "Enough, my lord, we stand here till the last man falls."
The first foot-guards were, for a short time, almost separated from the rest of the army, and surrounded by the French cavalry, who repeatedly charged on every side of the square at once. Their loss was consequently immense; but, though the soldiers rapidly fell, no chasm was for a moment left. The files were closed, and the square gradually diminished, nor would they have surrendered though cut off to the last man. At length the British cavalry advanced to their relief, while the intrepidity of the allies prevailed in all parts of the field, and the French were driven back to their former positions, with prodigious loss.
An uninterrupted series of attacks now commenced through the whole line, but chiefly on the centre, sometimes with infantry, at others with cavalry, and occasionally with both united; while nearly three hundred pieces of artillery played on all parts of the British position. The carnage was truly awful; yet it would have been greater had not the earth been so completely soaked with rain. On this account the balls never bounded along as when the ground is dry. the shells also frequently buried themselves, and, when they exploded, produced no other effect than throwing up a fountain of mud. 9
The battle had now raged with unabated fury nearly six hours, and almost one-third of the allied troops were killed or wounded. The Prussians, so long expected, did not yet arrive, and Lord Wellington began to fear that they had been defeated by the French corps which had been left to watch them. 10
The duke's reserves were now all in action, while those of Buonaparte were not yet brought forward. The brave Scotch division was reduced from six thousand to less than two hundred men. The sixth division had been almost destroyed without firing a gun. 11The spirits of the soldiers began to droop, and it required the utmost exertion of the officers to prevent them from yielding to despair. They disdained the idea of retreating, and were eager to be led against the foe; but thus to stand and be murdered without resistance was more than they could bear. They were tired of having nothing to occupy their attention by the dreadful roar of the artillery, the fall of their companions, and the lamentable cries of the wounded. An indifference to life was rapidly spreading through the ranks, and the British commander was in a state of the most anxious suspense, convinced that, unless the Prussians arrived within another hour, the battle must be inevitably lost. Yes, he was perfectly cool and collected; and, while one regiment continued firm at its post, he would not resign the contest. An aide-de-camp now came with the information that the fifth division was almost destroyed, and that it was impossible for them any longer to maintain their ground. 12"I cannot help it," he replied, "they must keep their ground with myself to the last man. Would to God! that night or Blucher were come."
General De Lancy now fell as he was leading back to the charge a battalion of Hanoverians who had been thrown into confusion. He conceived that his wound was mortal, and, as the soldiers eagerly rushed forward to carry him to the rear, he desired them to leave him to his fate; adding, that they should not waste that time on him, which might be employed in assisting many brave fellows who might be enabled again to fight their country's battles.
They obeyed and retired; but the next morning he was found yet living, and his friends began to entertain hopes of his recovery. These hopes, however, were fallacious, and he died in a few days, probably a martyr to his own disinterestedness.
The person of the Duke of Wellington was repeatedly exposed to the greatest dangers. While he stood on the centre of the high road in front of Mont St. Jean, several guns were levelled against him, distinguished as he was by his suite, and the movements of the officers about him.
The balls repeatedly grazed a tree on the right-hand of the road, which tree now bears his name. "That's good practice," observed the duke to one of his suite, "I think they fire better than in Spain." Riding up to the ninety-fifth regiment, when in front of the line, and even then expecting a formidable charge of cavalry, he said, "Stand fast, ninety-fifty—we must not be beat—what will they say in England?"
On another occasion, when many of the best and bravest men had fallen, and the event of the action seemed doubtful even to those who remained, he said, with the coolness of a spectator, who was beholding some well-contested sport—"Never mind, we'll win this battle yet." To another regiment, then closely engaged, he used a common sporting expression; "Hard pounding this, gentlemen; let's see who will pound longest."
Sir William Delancey, struck by a spent ball, fell from his horse—"Leave me to die," he said to those who came to assist him, "attend to the duke."
Sir Alexander Gordon received his mortal wound, while expostulating with the commander-in-chief on the personal danger to which he was exposing himself. One of the duke's aides-de-camp was sent off to a general of brigade in another part of the field, with a message of importance. In returning, he was shot through the lungs; but, as if supported by the resolution to perform his duty, he rode up to the Duke of Wellington, delivered the answer to his message, and then dropped down dead, from his horse.
Captain Curzon, of the 69th, the fourth son of Lord Searsdale, an aide-de-camp to the duke, was sent with Lord March on a service of importance, when a grape-shot struck him on the breast. As he fell from his horse, he affectionately exclaimed, "Good bye, March." In vain his noble friend rendered him every possible assistance; the tide of life ebbed fast. At this juncture a movement of the French cuirassiers threatened to attack a battalion of Nassau troops, near the spot on which he lay. Lord March, perceiving the danger to which they were exposed, hastily endeavoured to form them into square. As he was thus employed, and animated the soldiers to wait with firmness the expected attack, Curzon lifted his head, and, with his dying breath, exclaimed, "Well done, March; that's right, my brave fellow, well done, well done!"
Buonaparte was equally astonished and chagrined at the obstinate resistance of the British troops. He incessantly took snuff in large pinches from his waistcoat-pocket, violently snuffing up a part, and throwing the rest from him. "These English are devils!" he exclaimed; "will they ever be beaten?" A moment afterwards he added, "I shall defeat them yet; though it is a pity to destroy such brave troops." He then turned to Soult. "How admirably these English fight! but they must soon give way." Soult, who had some experience of British courage and firmness, replied, that "he doubted whether they would ever give way." "Why?" indignantly asked Napoleon. "Because, sire, they will suffer themselves to be cut to pieces first."
The Corsican's attacks were now redoubled, and he began to expose himself to the thickest of the fire; though the accounts which have been published of the desperation with which he sought every danger, and his apparent determination to die on the field, are altogether unfounded.
Buonaparte now contemplated with a stern countenance the horrible scene of slaughter which presented itself to his view. The more numerous the obstacles which presented themselves, the more his obstinacy seemed to increase. He became indignant at these unforeseen difficulties; and, far from fearing to push to extremities an army which reposed boundless confidence in him, he cased not to pour down fresh troops, and to give orders to march forward,—to charge with the bayonet,—to carry by storm. He was repeatedly informed from different points, that the day went against him, and that the troops appeared to be disordered: but his only reply was Forward! forward!—One general sent him information that he could not maintain his position, being dreadfully annoyed by a battery; and requested instructions how to elude its murderous fire— "Let him storm the battery!" said the unfeeling wretch, and turned his back on the aide-de-camp, who brought the message.
At this moment he received intelligence that the Prussians were opening on his right flank, and threatening his rear. He, however, disregarded the report, affirming that these pretended Prussians were no other than Grouchy's corps; and even abused several aides-de-camp, who brought the intelligence, charging them with timidity, and dismissing them with ill-humour. 13
After so peremptory an answer, many of them, ashamed to have been mistaken, heedlessly advanced towards the Prussian Yagers; and, notwithstanding these kept up a sharp fire against them, they approached near enough to be either killed or taken prisoners. In no long time, however, Buonaparte was undeceived by a furious attack on the part of the Prussians; part of the sixth corps was detached to sustain this new shock, until Marshal Grouchy's corps, which was every moment expected, should come up. By his orders, General Labedoyere announced the arrival of Grouchy, and that he was attacking the enemy; and this false intelligence he also spread among the soldiers as he rode along the line. 14
No blame can be attributed to the Prussians with respect to the delay of their arrival. Prince Blucher had put his army in motion at break of day. The corps of Borstel and Bulow were to march by St. Lambert, occupy a position there under cover of the forest near Fritschermont, and take the enemy in the rear when the moment should appear favourable. Ziethen's corps was to co-operate on the right flank of the enemy by Ohaim, and Thielman to follow slowly, and afford succour in case of need. But the first two of these corps had been placed on the east side of the river Dyle at Wavre; they had to cross by a narrow bridge, and, to add to the delay which the necessarily occasioned, the houses in the street leading to it had been set on fire by the French; so that the infantry passed with difficulty, the cavalry and artillery with still greater, and the ammunition was compelled to wait till the fire was extinguished. The passage, too, by the defile of St. Lambert, was far more difficult than had been expected; so that, when it was half-past four in the afternoon, only two brigades of Bulow's corps had arrived at the position which was assigned them.
The decisive moment was come; there was not an instant to be lost; and the general resolved immediately to begin the attack with the troops which they had at hand. Their way was through the forest of Soignies, a tract consisting of more than thirty thousand acres. By good fortune, a peasant who guided them, was a man of more than ordinary sagacity; and, instead of coming out of the forest at Fritschermont, he proposed to descend into the valley lower down, and come out in the direction towards Planchenoit, near on the rear of the French reserves. "Then," Said he, "we shall take them all."
The moment at which they arrived, was truly critical: nor can we reflect, without shuddering, how much, at this moment, depended on the knowledge and fidelity of a single peasant; who, had he been less disposed to serve the allies, or less intelligent, might easily have led them into a hollow way impassable by their cannon.
When Napoleon was at length convinced that the corps which he had so obstinately taken for that of Marshal Grouchy, consisted of Prussians, he felt the critical situation in which he was now placed; but, as he did not believe that the main body of the Prussians could come up for some hours, he hoped that success was yet in his power. He therefore resolved to attack the weakest part of the British line with his whole concentrated force, and thus endeavour to defeat the Duke of Wellington before his reinforcements could arrive. Accordingly, leaving the sixth corps to keep the Prussians in check, he brought forward the whole of the cavalry of the imperial guard, and directed it on the centre of the British position. The shock, for the moment, was irresistible; the allied troops gave way; the heights were carried, and several guns were taken by the French. The Duke of Wellington, however, hastened to the spot, and placed himself at the head of some English and Brunswickers. He addressed to them a few sentences, which he well knew would inflame their ardour, and led them against the enemy, who, flushed with success, were advancing to the very rear of his lines. Suddenly the victory was wrested from their grasp. The artillery which they had taken was hastily abandoned, and they fled with precipitation. 15
At this period, the Prince of Orange received a musket-ball in his shoulder, as he was rallying some of his troops who had shrunk from the impetuous attack of the French. In a previous stage of the combat he had been hurried away by the ardour of the flight, and taken prisoner; but a battalion of his troops rushing to his assistance, immediately effected his rescue.
The troops of Count Lobau had, in the mean time, repulsed the advanced-guard of the Prussians, and driven them back into the woods. Animated by this success, and at the same time sensible how necessary it was for him to avail himself of it, Napoleon put himself at the head of his guard, consisting of fifteen hundred men, and made one last desperate effort on the centre of the British. He led them on till he came to a hollow part of the road, where he stopped under a ravine, protected from the fire of the British artillery. Here he addressed his troops. He reminded them how often he had relied on their valour in cases of emergency and that they had never disappointed his expectations. He stated that the enemy, greatly diminished in numbers, could offer no effectual resistance, and that they had nothing to encounter but an artillery, but which they would easily carry with the bayonet. To these observations they replied with one general shout of "Vive L'Empereur!" which was distinctly heard as far as the British lines.
The allies now conceived that Buonaparte was about to attack them in person. He thought proper, however, to remain under shelter of the rising bank, while his devoted guards defiled before him under the command of Ney, and ascended the eminence.
The decision of the battle, the fate of Europe, now depended upon these troops. The fire of the allies abated; and, with indescribable feelings, they contemplated the approach of those chosen battalions, who had been so long the terror of Europe, and who had never yet ben vanquished. The pause, however, was but for a moment. Every cannon opened at once on the foe, and swept away entire ranks. But as those in front fell, others instantly rushed forward to fill up the chasms, and, with stern and unbroken front, the imperial guard still continued to advance.
Some Brunswickers first attempted to oppose them: but, after an obstinate resistance, they were defeated with immense slaughter. The French penetrated within the lines; and, for a short space, the victory was more than doubtful.
In a hollow of the ground, directly in front of the French, and sheltered from the fire of their artillery, lay a regiment of the British guards. The Duke of Wellington had placed himself on a ridge behind them, and, on the imperial guard advancing within a hundred yards, he suddenly exclaimed, "Up, guard, and at them." The unexpected appearance of this fine body of men startled the French battalions, and they suddenly paused; but immediately recovering themselves, the advanced more rapidly, while their artillery filed off to the right and the left. They then approached within twenty yards of their opponents, and were in the act of rushing upon them with the bayonet; when a volley was poured upon them by the British, which literally knocked them backward with its shock. A second volley threw them into greater confusion, and, before they could either deploy or manśuvre, the British cheered and rushed upon them with such impetuosity, that they suddenly turned, and fled in the utmost confusion.
The Duke of Wellington, perceiving the disorder of the French, and the advance of the Prussians on their right flank, immediately commanded the British troops to form line, and assume the offensive. The whole line formed four deep, and, supported by the cavalry and artillery, rushed down the slopes and up the corresponding bank, driving before them the flying French, whose confusion became each moment more irretrievable. The tirralleurs 16of the imperial guard attempted to recover the retreat; but they were charged by the British cavalry, and literally cut to pieces.
Just as the English army had deployed into line for the general charge, the sun beamed out, as if to shed his setting glories upon the conquerors of that eventful day. Fatigue and diminution of numbers, even wounds, were forgotten, when the whole line, supported by the cavalry and artillery, were ordered to charge. Headed by the Duke of Wellington himself, with his hat in his hand, the troops advanced with the utmost spirit and rapidity.
The French fought with desperation, but all their efforts were in vain: their first line was speedily thrown back on the second, and both became united in one tide of general and undistinguished flight. Baggage-waggons, artillery-carts, guns overthrown, and all the impediments of a hurried flight, encumbered the field as well as the causeway, without mentioning the thick-strewn corpses of the slain, and the bodies of the still more miserable wounded, who, in vain, implored compassion, as fugitives and pursuers drove headlong over them in the agony of fear or the ecstacy of triumph. All the funs which were in line along the French position, to the number of one hundred and fifty, fell into the immediate possession of the allies.
The last effort of the Corsican's troops, and their entire defeat, are thus beautifully described by Walter Scott, in his "Field of Waterloo:"—
The last gun fired was a French howitzer, which was turned upon the retreating army, and discharged by Captain Campbell, aide-de-camp to General Adam, with his own hand, who had thus the honour of concluding the battle of Waterloo. The march and advance of the Prussians crossed the van of the British army, after they had attacked the French position, about the farm- house of La Belle Alliance, and there the Duke of Wellington and Prince Blucher accidentally met, and congratulated each other upon their joint-success. Here, too, the victorious allies of both countries exchanged military greetings,—the Prussians halting their regimental band to play "God save the King," while the British returned the compliment with three cheers to the honour of Prussia. Marshal Blucher then gave orders that every man and horse in his army capable of action should press upon the rear of the fugitives, without giving them a moment's time to rally.
The Prussian Pursuit
of the French After Waterloo
In 1797, he was appointed governor of Trinidad, and, though in that situation he was accused of extreme severity, the accusation was completely rebutted by the verdict of a British jury; and the inhabitants of Trinidad were so sensible of the benefits which they had received under his administration, that, on his quitting the island, they voted him five thousand pounds, as a testimony of their esteem and gratitude. Some time after this a dreadful fire reduced the capital of the island to ashes. A subscription was opened for the unfortunate inhabitants, and Picton immediately returned the five thousand pounds, which he had received from them.
After a lapse of some years, he was employed in the expedition to Walcheren, and, on the capture of Flushing, was appointed governor of that place; an attack of the fever, which proved so destructive to the British army, compelled him to relinquish his post, and return to England.
He had scarcely recovered, when he was appointed to the command of a division in the Duke of Wellington's army in the Peninsula, and was the favourite companion of the hero in most of the battles of that protracted war. In the battle of Vittoria, his division sustained, for more than four hours, an unequal contest against the main body of the French army, and received, at the close of the engagement, the warmest acknowledgments from the commander-in-chief.
It was at the personal solicitation of the Duke that he accepted the command of a division in the campaign of the Netherlands, where he terminated his military exploits and his mortal existence.
But to resume the thread of our narration,—