Napoleon’s salute to Wellington was a cannonade from a 120 guns. The fire was directed toward the enemy’s center and left, but it was ineffectual, except as the smoke partially masked the first French movement, which was the attack on Hougomont by their left, the corps of Reille. This was in three divisions, commanded respectively by Bachelu, Foy, and the Emperor’s brother Jerome, whose director was Guillemenot. Preceded by skirmishers, the column of Jerome gained partial shelter in a wood to the southwest of their goal, but the resistance to their advance was vigorous; on the skirts of the grove were Nassauers, Hanoverians, and a detachment of the English guards, all picked men, and behind, on higher ground, was an English battery. The two other divisions pressed on behind, and for a time their gains were apparently substantial.
But, checked in front by artillery fire, and by a murderous fusillade from loopholes cut in the walls of Hougomont, the besiegers hesitated. Their fiery energy was not scientifically directed; but such was their zeal, and so great were their numbers, that one brigade doubled on the rear of the fortalice, drove back the English guards from before the entrance to the courtyard on the north, and charged for the opening. Some of the French actually forced a passage, and the success of Napoleon’s first move was in sight when five gallant Englishmen, by sheer physical strength, shut the stout gate in the face of the assailants.
A fearless French grenadier scaled the wall, but he and his comrades within were killed. A second assault on the same spot failed; so, too, a third from the west, and still another from the east, all of which were repelled by the English guards, who moved down from above, and drove the French into the wood, where they held their own. These close and bloody encounters were contrary to Reille’s orders, but in the thick of combat his various detachments could not be restrained.
The second division of the battle was the main attack on Wellington’s left by d’Erlon’s corps. Between 12 and 1 a Prussian hussar was captured with a message from Blucher to Wellington announcing the Prussian advance. At once the postscript was added to the second despatch to Grouchy, already mentioned, and Napoleon made ready for his great effort. Unable to sit his horse, he had dismounted, and, seated at the table on which his map was spread, had been frequently seen to nod and doze. Ney and d’Erlon, left to their own judgment, had evolved a scheme of formation so complex that when tried, as it now was, it proved unworkable. The confusion was veiled by a terrific, continuous, and destructive artillery fire.
After some delay, and a readjustment involving preparations against the possible flank attack of the Prussians, d’Erlon’s corps advanced in four columns, under Donzelot, Allix, Marcognet, and Durutte respectively. Opposed was Picton’s decimated corps, with Bylandt’s Dutch-Belgian brigade, which had been all along a target for the strongest French battery, one of 78 guns, and was now to bear the first onset of the French troops. Bylandt’s men had stood firm under the awful artillery fire, but their uniforms were like those of the French, and in a melee this fact might draw upon them the fire of their own associates, as later in the day at Hougomont it actually did, and they grew very uneasy.
Durutte, on the extreme right, seized Papelotte, but lost it almost immediately. The conflict then focused about La Haye Sainte, where the garden and orchard were seized by an overwhelming force. The buildings had been inadequately fortified, but Major Baring, with his garrison, displayed prodigies of valor, and held them.
The assailants, supported hitherto by batteries firing over their heads, now charged up the hill; as they reached the crest, their own guns were silenced, but their yells of defiance rent the air. The Dutch-Belgians of the first rank harkened an instant, and, followed by the jeers and menaces of the British grenadiers and Royal Scots, fled incontinently until they reached a place of safety, when they reformed and stood. Picton was thus left unsupported, but at that decisive moment Donzelot tried the new tactics again, and his ranks fell into momentary confusion. Picton charged, the British artillery opened, and though the English general fell, mortally wounded, his men hurled back the French.
This first success enabled Wellington to bring in more of his infantry, with the Scots Greys, and to throw in his cavalry, the First Royal Dragoons and the Enniskillens, for action against a body of French riders, under Roussel, which, having swept the fields around La Haye Sainte, was now coming on. His order was for Somerset and Ponsonby to charge. The shock was terrific, the French cavalry yielded, and the whole of d’Erlon’s line rolled back in disorder. Efforts were made by the daring Englishmen to create complete confusion, but they were not entirely successful, for Durutte’s column maintained its formation, while the French lancers and dragoons wrought fearful havoc among the British infantry somewhat disorganized by victory. Ponsonby fell among his men, and it was due to Vandeleur’s horse that the French advance was checked. This ended the effort upon which Napoleon had based his hope of success; there was still desultory fighting at Hougomont, and the Prussians, though not visible, were forming behind the forest of Paris.
There was a long and ominous pause before the next renewal of conflict. Wellington used it to repair his shattered left and brought in Lambert’s Peninsular veterans, 2200 strong. Napoleon quickly formed a corps, under Lobau, intended to repel the flank attack of the Prussians. Ney was determined to redeem his repulse by a second front attack, and Napoleon, either by word or silence, gave consent. While the batteries kept up their fire, the marshal gathered in the center the largest mass of horsemen which had ever charged on a European battle-field—12 thousand men, light and heavy cavalry. His aim was to supplement Reille, still engaged at Hougomont, and dash in upon the allied right center. Donzelot’s column, now reformed, was hurled directly against La Haye Sainte, and the mass of the cavalry surged up the hill.
The gunners of Wellington’s artillery, unprotected even by breastworks, stood to their pieces until the attacking line was within forty yards; then they delivered their final salvo, and fled. Wavering for an instant, the French advanced with a cheer. Before them stood the enemy in hollow squares, four ranks deep, the front kneeling, the second at the charge, the two others ready to fire. The horsemen dared not rush on those bristling lines. In and out among the serried ranks they flowed and foamed, discharging their pistols and slashing with their sabers, until, discouraged by losses and exhausted by useless exertion, their efforts grew feeble. Dubois’s brigade, according to a doubtful tradition, dashed in ignorance over the brow of a certain shallow ravine, men and horses rolling in horrid confusion into the unsuspected pit.
The hollow was undoubtedly there at the time, although it has since been filled up, and, it is believed, was likewise the grave of the 15 hundred men and two thousand horses that were eventually collected from round about. The British reserve cavalry, supported by the infantry fire and a few hastily collected batteries, completed the defeat of Ney’s first charge. A second was repulsed in the same way. The undaunted marshal then waited for reinforcements. No fewer than 37 squadrons came in, Napoleon sending Kellermann’s heavy dragoons as a last resort. Guyot’s division of the heavy cavalry of the guard was also there—some say they had been summoned by Ney, others that they came of their own accord; the question arises because, in the next stage of the battle, their absence from the station assigned to them was a serious matter. Another time, and still another, this mighty force moved against the foe. Pouring in and out, backward and forward, among the squares, they lost cohesion and force until, in the very moment of Wellington’s extremity, they withdrew, as before, exhausted and spent.
The energy and zeal of the English commander had been in strange contrast to Napoleon’s growing apathy; Wellington had further strengthened his line by two Brunswick regiments and Mercer’s battery, and at the last by Adam’s brigade with the King’s Germans under Dupont. This done, his stand had been superb to the last. Yet he was now at the end of his resources.
It was 6, and to his repeated messages calling for Blucher’s aid there had been no response. Although a portion of Bulow’s men had been fighting for more than an hour, yet the Prussian army was not yet fully engaged and he himself, having no reinforcement nor relief, seemed face to face with defeat. Baring had held La Haye Sainte with unsurpassed gallantry; his calls for men had been answered, but his requisitions for ammunition were strangely neglected. Ney, seeing how vain his cavalry charges were, withdrew before the last one took place, arrayed Bachelu’s division, collected a number of field-pieces, and fell furiously, with cannonade and bayonet charge, upon the farm-house.
His success was complete; the garrison fled, his pursuit was hot, and, leading in person, he broke through the opposing line at its very heart. Had he been supported by a strong reserve, the battle would have been won. Muffling, Wellington’s Prussian aide, dashed away to the Prussian lines, and, as he drew near the head of Ziethen’s division, shouted: “The battle is lost if the corps do not press on and at once support the English army.” Ney’s adjutant, demanding infantry to complete the breach he had made, was received by Napoleon with petulance. One brigade from Bulow’s corps had attacked at about half-past four; repulsed at first, their onset was growing fiercer, for two other brigades had come in. Soult had opposed Ney’s waste of cavalry. But the latter was desperate, and with the other generals was displaying a wilfulness bordering on insubordination. A portion of the guard had just been detached for Lobau’s support.
To Ney’s demand for infantry the Emperor replied: “Where do you expect me to get them from? Am I to make them?” In truth, his mind and energies were now more concerned with Blucher than with Wellington, and he was already fighting the advance of Bulow in his plans. But had the old Bonaparte spirit moved the chieftain to put himself at the head of what remained of the guard infantry, and to make a desperate dash for Ney’s support, a temporary advantage would almost certainly have been won; then, with a remnant flushed by victory, he could have turned to Lobau’s assistance before the main Prussian army came in. Thus was lost Napoleon’s one chance to deal Wellington a decisive blow.
It was to prevent a dangerous flank movement of the enemy—the advance, namely, of Bulow, with the cavalry corps of Prince William, upon Plancenoit—that Napoleon had detached the young guard, under Duhesme, a third of his precious reserve, for the support of Lobau’s right; Durutte being in the rear of his left, that portion was already as strong as it could be made. Nevertheless the Prussians seized Plancenoit; at once the French rallied, and drove them out; Blucher threw in eight fresh battalions, and these, with the six already engaged, dashed for the ravine leading to the village.
The passage was lined with French, and for a time it was like the valley of Hinnom; but the Prussians pressed on, and the young guard reeled. Napoleon sent in two battalions of the old guard, under Morand and Pelet; their firmness restored that of their comrades, and the place was cleared, two thousand dead remaining as the victims of that furious charge and countercharge. At 7 Bulow was back again in his first position, awaiting the arrival of Pirch’s corps to restore his riddled ranks. Napoleon had now left only 12 of the 23 battalions of the guard reserve, less than six thousand men. Wellington had repaired the breach made by Ney, and, though still hard pressed on his right, Ziethen had made good the strength of his left, whence some of his cavalry, the brigades of Vivian and Vandeleur, had been detached to repair other weak spots in the line. At this moment Ziethen conceived that Bulow was further giving way, and hesitated in his advance. The brief interval was noted by Durutte, and with a last desperate effort he carried Papelotte, La Haye, and Smohain, hoping to prevent the fatal juncture. It was half an hour before Ziethen retrieved his loss, and thus probably saved Wellington’s left.
By that time Pirch had come up, and with this reinforcement Bulow, behind the heavy fire of his powerful batteries, charged Lobau, and advanced on the guard at Plancenoit. Lobau, the hero of Aspern, stood like a rock until Durutte’s men and the remnants of d’Erlon’s corps, flying past his flank, induced a panic in his ranks. Thereupon the whole French right fell into confusion: all except the guard, who stood in the churchyard of Plancenoit until surrounded and reduced in number to about 250 men; then, under Pelet’s command, they formed a square, placed their eagle in the midst, drove off the cavalry which blocked their path, and reached the main line of retreat with scarcely enough men to keep their formation. The name of Ziethen must stand in equal renown with that of Colborne among the annals of Waterloo. The rout of the French left was the beginning of Napoleon’s calamity, as that of his right under Colborne was its consummation.
Before the combined armies of Wellington and Blucher the French could not stand; but, in spite of inferior numbers and the manifest signs of defeat, General Bonaparte might have conducted an orderly retreat. The case was different with Napoleon the Emperor, even though he were now a liberator; to retreat would have been merely a postponement of the day of reckoning. Accordingly, the great adventurer, facing his destiny on the height at Rossomme, determined, in a last desperate effort, to retrieve the day, and stake all on a last cast of the dice. For an instant he appears to have contemplated a change of front, wheeling for that purpose by Hougomont, where his resistance was still strong; but he finally decided to crush the Anglo-Belgian right, if possible; roll up both armies into a confused mass, so that, perchance, they might weaken rather than strengthen each other; and then, with Grouchy’s aid, strike for victory.
Though indifferent to Ney’s demands, he had set in array against Bulow the very choicest troops of his army; surely they might stand firm while his blow elsewhere was delivered. But he did not reckon in this with Wellington’s reserve power; though the dramatic stories of the duke’s mortal anxiety rest on slight foundation, there is no doubt that he felt a great relief when the Prussians entered the combat, for immediately he turned his attention, not to rest, but to the reforming of his line. Officers and men, English or German, knew nothing of Bulow’s or Blucher’s whereabouts when Napoleon took his resolution; but, sensible of having been strengthened, they displayed at 7.30 that evening the same grim determination they had shown at eleven in the morning. Though Wellington’s task of standing firm until Blucher’s arrival was accomplished, and though, perhaps, his soldiers heard the distant firing of the Prussian guns, yet nothing could be seen across the long interval, the noise attracted little attention, and neither he nor they could know what was yet before them. It was, therefore, splendid courage in general and army which kept them ever ready for any exertion, however desperate.
Against this army, in this temper, Napoleon despatched what was left of that force which was the peculiar product of his life and genius, the old and middle guard. Most of its members were the children of peasants, and had been born in ante-Revolution days. Neither intelligent in appearance nor graceful in bearing, they nevertheless had the look of perfect fighting-machines. Their huge bearskin caps and long mustaches did not diminish the fierceness of their aspect. They had been selected for size, docility, and strength; they had been well paid, well fed, and well drilled; they had, therefore, no ties but those to their Emperor, no homes but their barracks, and no enthusiasm but their passion for imperial France.
They would have followed no leader unless he were distinguished in their system of life; accordingly, Ney was selected for that honour; and as they came in proud confidence up the Charleroi road, their Emperor passed them in review. Like every other division, they had been told that the distant roar was from Grouchy’s guns; when informed that all was ready for the finishing-stroke, that there was to be a general advance along the whole line, and that no man was to be denied his share in certain victory, even the sick, it is said, rose up, and hurried into the ranks. The air seemed rent with their hoarse cheers as their columns swung in measured tread diagonally across the northern spur of the cruciform elevation which divided the surface of the valley.
Wellington, informed of the French movement, as it is thought by a deserter, issued hurried orders to the center, ordered Maitland’s brigade to where the charge must be met, and posted himself, with Napier’s battery, somewhat to its right. While yet his words of warning were scarcely uttered, the head of the French column appeared. The English batteries belched forth a welcome; but although Ney’s horse, the fifth that day, was shot, the men he led suffered little, and with him on foot at their side they came steadily onward. The British guards were lying behind the hill-crest, and the French could discern no foe—only a few mounted officers, of whom Wellington was one. Astonished and incredulous, the assailants pressed steadily on until within twenty yards of the English line. “Up, guards! make ready!” rang out the duke’s well-known call. The British jumped up and fired; about three hundred of Ney’s gallant soldiers fell. But there was no confusion; on both sides volley succeeded volley, and this lasted until the British charged. Then, and then only, the French withdrew. Simultaneously Donzelot had fallen upon Alten’s division; but he was leading a forlorn hope, and making no impression.
As Ney fell back, a body of French cuirassiers advanced upon the English batteries. Their success was partial, and behind them a second column of the guard was formed. Again the assault was renewed; but the second attempt fared worse than the first. To the right of Maitland, Adam’s brigade, with the Fifty-second regiment, had taken stand; wheeling now, these drove a deadly flank fire into the advancing French, while the others poured in a devastating hail of bullets from the front.
The front ranks of the French replied with spirit, but when the British had completed their manoeuver, Colborne gave the order, his men cheered in response, and the counter-charge began. “Vive ‘Empereur!” came the responsive cheer from the thinning ranks of the assailants, and still they came on. But in the awful crash they reeled, confusion followed, and almost in the twinkling of an eye the rout began. A division of the old guard, the two battalions under Cambronne, retreated in fair order to the center of the valley, where they made their last gallant stand against the overwhelming numbers of Hugh Halkett’s German brigade. They fought until but a hundred and fifty survived. From far away the despairing cry of “Sauve qui peut!” seemed to ring on their ears. To the first summons of surrender the leader had replied with dogged defiance; the second was made soon after, about three in the afternoon, and to this he yielded. He and his men filed to the English rear without a murmur, but in deep dejection. This occurrence has passed into tradition as an epic event; what Cambronne might well have said, “The guard dies, but never surrenders,” was not uttered by him, but it epitomizes their character, and in the phrase which seems to have been shouted by the men themselves in their last desperate struggle, they and their leader have found immortality.
The last charge of what remained of the guard took place almost at the moment when Durutte was finally routed. Wellington then sent in the fresh cavalry brigades of Vivian and Vandeleur against the column of Donzelot and the remnants of the French cavalry. These swept all before them, and then the duke gave the order for a general advance. The French left fell into panic, and fled toward Belle Alliance. Before La Haye Sainte stood two squares of French soldiers, the favored legion chosen to protect the imperial headquarters. In the fatal hour it splendidly vindicated the choice, and amid the chaos stood in perfect order.
Throughout the famous charge of his devoted men Napoleon rode hither and thither, from Rossomme to Belle Alliance. His looks grew dark, but at the very last he called hoarsely to the masses of disorganized troops that came whirling by, bidding them to stand fast. All in vain; and as the last square came on he pressed inside its serried wall. It was not too soon, for the Prussians had now joined the forward movement, and in the supreme disorder consequent the other square dissolved. Napoleon’s convoy withstood the shock of a charge from the Twelfth British light dragoons, and again of a Prussian charge at Rossomme, where Gneisenau took up the fierce pursuit.
Though assaulted, and hard beset by musketry, the square moved silently on. There were no words except an occasional remark addressed by Napoleon to his brother Jerome, or to one of the officers. At eleven Genappe was reached; there, such was the activity of the pursuers, all hope of an orderly retreat vanished, and the square melted away. Napoleon had become an object of pity—his eyes set, his frame collapsed, his great head rolling in a drowsy stupor. Monthyon and Bertrand set him as best they could upon a horse, and, one on each side, supported him as they rode. They had an escort of forty men. At Quatre Bras they despatched a messenger to summon Grouchy, bidding him to retire on Namur. The Prussians were only one hour behind. At daybreak the hunted Emperor reached Charleroi, but his attendants dared not delay; two rickety carriages were secured, and it was not until the wretched caravan reached Philippeville that the fugitives obtained a few hours’ repose.