Loe raamatut: «The Story of Wellington», lehekülg 14
Wellington displayed extraordinary activity, and commanded in person. Napoleon relied on his subordinates far more than was usual with him, and seemed to take little direct interest in the fighting. He sat in a chair; his antagonist rode about throughout the day. “It is hardly possible,” says Lord William Lennox, one of his aides-de-camp, “to describe the calm manner in which the hero gave his orders and watched the movements and attacks of the enemy. In the midst of danger, bullets whistling close about him, round shot ploughed the ground he occupied, and men and horses falling on every side, he sat upon his favourite charger, Copenhagen, as collectedly as if he had been reviewing the Household Troops in Hyde Park.”
Although it would be foolish to endeavour to accurately divide the battle in different parts as one would do a sum, for the simple reason that fighting was going on all the time and the entire armies of the combatants were not used in any given moment, there were five more or less distinct attacks made by the French which may be useful as keys, viz.: (1) the diversion against Hougoumont, which opened the battle; (2) the attack against Wellington’s left-centre; (3) the cavalry attack on the right-centre; (4) a second attempt with infantry and cavalry having a similar object, and an infantry attack against the enemy’s left; (5) the charge of the Imperial Guard.
The main attack was against the British left and centre, but by way of diversion an attempt was first made on the wood of Hougoumont, which was carried after so determined a resistance that Alison, the historian, afterwards counted no fewer than twenty-two shots in a tree less than six inches in diameter; fairly conclusive evidence of the death-dealing shower faced by the Nassauers and Hanoverians defending the copse and of the vigour of the enemy. The château was then attacked, contrary to orders, by Jerome Bonaparte, and brilliantly repulsed by the light companies of the second battalions of Coldstream and Foot Guards.95 Several attempts were afterwards made to secure the place, and dead bodies lay piled in heaps, but those within held it from the beginning to the end of the battle, although Wellington found it necessary to reinforce the men who were upholding Britain’s honour so determinedly. The orchard was captured and regained, howitzers battered the stout walls, the building was set on fire, the door of the courtyard was burst open and shut in the face of the French. These deeds were performed by the fellows of whom Napoleon had spoken earlier in the day as “breakfast for us!”
It was not until about half-past one o’clock, when a black, moving mass was seen on the wooded heights of St Lambert that the Emperor really bestirred himself. Napoleon looked through his glass in the direction of the object on which nearly all eyes were strained. Some of his officers thought it a body of troops, some suggested Prussians, others Grouchy. “I think,” remarked Soult, “it is five or six thousand men, probably part of Grouchy’s army.” In reality it was the advanced guard of Bülow’s troops, and the Emperor shortly afterwards heard from the lips of a prisoner that at least 30,000 men were approaching to assist Wellington. However, some light horsemen were sent towards Frischermont to observe the Prussians,96 and a postscript was added to a dispatch already penned to Grouchy, begging him to “lose not an instant in drawing near and joining us, in order to crush Bülow, whom you will catch in the very act.”
Without delay Napoleon launched D’Erlon’s corps in four columns totalling nearly 20,000 men against the enemy’s left-centre, Ney in command. They were supported by far too few cavalry. The Emperor’s idea was to take La Haye Sainte, break through the Allied line, and gain Mont St Jean. This operation, if successful, would compel Wellington to abandon his communications with the Belgian capital and change his formation. In addition, it would place the French between his army and the Prussians. Bylandt’s Dutch-Belgians, who were nearest to the enemy and consequently more exposed to the covering fire of seventy-eight guns and the shots of the skirmishers, took to their heels as D’Erlon’s divisions, frantically yelling “Vive l’Empereur!” approached the front line.97 The brigades of Pack and Kempt were at once brought forward by Picton. They stood firm and poured death into the oncoming columns, receiving them, as they appeared on the crest of the ridge, with fixed bayonets.
The Earl of Uxbridge, who was in command of the cavalry, realizing that the position was still one of considerable danger, then ordered Ponsonby’s Union Brigade—the 1st Royal Dragoons, Scots Greys, and Inniskillings—to charge. It burst upon the French with tremendous force and decided the issue.
Several thousands of the enemy were killed or wounded, 8000 taken prisoners, a number of guns silenced, and two eagles captured.
The story of how the colours of the French 45th Regiment were secured by Serjeant Ewart, a magnificent specimen of a man, over six feet in height, who served in the Greys, is best told in his own modest language. “It was in the charge I took the eagle from the enemy,” he says; “he and I had a hard contest for it; he made a thrust at my groin, I parried it off and cut him down through the head. After this a lancer came at me; I threw the lance off by my right side, and cut him through the chin and upwards through the teeth. Next, a foot-soldier fired at me, and then charged me with his bayonet, which I also had the good luck to parry, and then I cut him down through the head; thus ended the contest. As I was about to follow my regiment, the General said, ‘My brave fellow, take that to the rear; you have done enough till you get quit of it.’ I took the eagle to the ridge, and afterwards to Brussels.”
We have also the record of Captain Clark Kennedy, of the Royal Dragoons, regarding the capture of the eagle of the 105th Regiment. “I was,” he relates, “in command of the centre squadron of the Royal Dragoons in this charge; while following up the attack, I perceived a little to my left, in the midst of a body of infantry, an eagle and colour, which the bearer was making off with towards the rear. I immediately gave the order to my squadron, ‘Right shoulders forward!’ at the same time leading direct upon the eagle and calling out to the men with me to secure the colour; the instant I got within reach of the officer who carried the eagle, I ran my sword into his right side, and he staggered and fell, but did not reach the ground on account of the pressure of his companions: as the officer was in the act of falling, I called out a second time to some men close behind me, ‘Secure the colour, it belongs to me.’ The standard coverer, Corporal Styles, and several other men rushed up, and the eagle fell across my horse’s head against that of Corporal Styles’s. As it was falling, I caught the fringe of the flag with my left hand, but could not at first pull up the eagle: at the second attempt, however, I succeeded. Being in the midst of French troops, I attempted to separate the eagle from the staff, to put it into the breast of my coatee, but it was too firmly fixed. Corporal Styles said, ‘Sir, don’t break it’; to which I replied, ‘Very well; carry it off to the rear as fast as you can.’ He did so.”
Unfortunately the victors were too eager, and instead of returning they continued until they were in the French lines, thus enabling Napoleon to “turn the tables.” His reserve squadrons robbed the British ranks of 1000 brave men, including Ponsonby. More would have fallen had not Vandeleur’s Light Cavalry Brigade checked the enemy.
Picton was dead, shot at the head of his men. “When you hear of my death,” the latter had previously remarked to a comrade, “you will hear of a bloody day.” He had “fallen gloriously at the head of his division, maintaining a position which, if it had not been kept, would have altered the fate of the day.”98
The following account of the magnificent charge of Ponsonby’s Union Brigade, from the pen of James Armour, Rough-rider to the Scots Greys, who took part in it, gives some idea of the work performed:
“Orders were now given that we were to prepare to charge. We gave our countrymen in front of us three hearty huzzas, and waving our swords aloft in the air, several swords were struck with balls while so doing; and I must not forget the piper—
The piper loud and louder blew,
The balls of all denominations quick and quicker flew.
The Highlanders were then ordered to wheel back—I think by sections, but I am not certain: infantry words of command differ from the cavalry. When they had, and were wheeling back imperfectly, we rushed through them; at the same time they huzzaed us, calling out, ‘Now, my boys—Scotland for ever!’ I must own it had a thrilling effect upon me. I am certain numbers of them were knocked over by the horses: in our anxiety we could not help it. Some said ‘I didna think ye wad hae sair’d me sae’—catching hold of our legs and stirrups, as we passed, to support themselves. When we got clear through the Highlanders (92nd) we were now on the charge, and a short one it was. A cross road being in our way, we leaped the first hedge gallantly; crossed the road, and had to leap over another hedge. At this time the smoke from the firing on both sides made it so that we could not see distinctly. We had not charged far—not many yards, till we came to a column. We were pretty well together as yet, although a great number fell about that cross road. We were in the column in a very short time (making pretty clean work). We still pushed forward, at least as many as could—a number had dropped off by this time—and soon came to another column. They cried out, ‘Prisoners!’ and threw down their arms, and stripped themselves of their belts (I think it is part of the French discipline to do so), and ran to our rear. Ay, they ran like hares. We still pushed on, and came upon another column; and some of them went down on their knees, calling out ‘Quarter!’ in a very supplicatory way....
“We now got amongst the guns, the terrible guns, which had annoyed us so much. Such slaughtering!—men cut down and run through, horses houghed, harness cut, and all rendered useless. Some, who were judges of such work, reckoned we had made a very good job of it. Amongst the guns—I think six or seven in number, all brass—that I was engaged with, mostly all the men were cut down, and the horses, most of them, if not all, were houghed. While we were at work amongst these guns, never thinking but, when we were done with it, we would have nothing to do but to return from where we came; but I must own I was very much surprised, when we began to retrace our steps, when what should we behold coming away across betwixt us and our own army but a great number of these cuirassiers and lancers, the first I ever beheld in my life, who were forming up in order to cut off our retreat; but, nothing daunted, we faced them manfully. We had none to command us now, but every man did what he could. ‘Conquer or die!’ was the word. When the regiment returned from the charge mentioned, the troops that I belonged to did not muster above one or two sound men (unwounded) belonging to the front rank. Indeed the whole troop did not muster above a dozen; there were upwards of twenty of the front rank killed, and the others wounded.”
Meanwhile the farm of La Haye Sainte, held by a detachment of the German Legion under Major Baring, had been the object of assault by a French division detached for that purpose, and the defenders were driven from the orchard. Reinforcements were sent forward by Wellington, followed by additional cavalry by Napoleon. The cuirassiers were met by Lord Edward Somerset’s Brigade, led by the Earl of Uxbridge, and driven back after a furious struggle for supremacy. Not until the last pinch of powder was spent and several determined attempts had been made to secure the place, did the brave fellows vacate their position to D’Erlon’s infantry, between six and seven o’clock.
Towards the close of the afternoon Milhaud’s cuirassiers, supported by light cavalry and dragoons, attacked the British right-centre. Wellington at once formed his troops in squares. When the crash came they stood firm and unbroken.
The Commander-in-Chief lost not a moment. The heavy brigade of Lord Edward Somerset was flung against the Frenchmen and drove them from the ridge.99 The artillery flamed destruction. Charge followed charge, thirteen in all, but the British squares remained steady, although continually reduced. Nearly all Wellington’s cavalry were pressed into service, and with the exception of a solitary Dutch-Belgian division, all his infantry reserve was employed. An officer who served in Halkett’s brigade has left a vivid account of this part of the battle.
“Hougoumont and its wood,” he writes, “sent up a broad flame through the dark masses of smoke that overhung the field; beneath this cloud the French were indistinctly visible. Here a waving mass of long red feathers could be seen; there, gleams as from a sheet of steel showed that the cuirassiers were moving; 400 cannon were belching forth fire and death on every side; the roaring and shouting were indistinguishably commixed—together they gave me an idea of a labouring volcano. Bodies of infantry and cavalry were pouring down on us, and it was time to leave contemplation, so I moved towards our columns, which were standing up in square.... As I entered the rear face of our square I had to step over a body, and looking down, recognised Harry Beere, an officer of our Grenadiers, who about an hour before shook hands with me, laughing, as I left the columns.... The tear was not dry on my cheek when poor Harry was no longer thought of. In a few minutes after, the enemy’s cavalry galloped up and crowned the crest of our position. Our guns were abandoned,100 and they formed between the two brigades, about a hundred paces in our front. Their first charge was magnificent. As soon as they quickened their trot into a gallop, the cuirassiers bent their heads so that the peaks of their helmets looked like vizors, and they seemed cased in armour from the plume to the saddle. Not a shot was fired till they were within thirty yards, when the word was given, and our men fired away at them. The effect was magical. Through the smoke we could see helmets falling, cavaliers starting from their seats with convulsive springs as they received our balls, horses plunging and rearing in the agonies of fright and pain, and crowds of the soldiery dismounted, part of the squadron in retreat, but the more daring remainder backing their horses to force them on our bayonets. Our fire soon disposed of these gentlemen. The main body re-formed in our front, and rapidly and gallantly repeated their attacks. In fact, from this time (about four o’clock) till near six, we had a constant repetition of these brave but unavailing charges. There was no difficulty in repulsing them, but our ammunition decreased alarmingly. At length an artillery wagon galloped up, emptied two or three casks of cartridges into the square, and we were all comfortable....
“Though we constantly thrashed our steel-clad opponents, we found more troublesome customers in the round shot and grape, which all this time played on us with terrible effect, and fully avenged the cuirassiers. Often as the volleys created openings in our square would the cavalry dash on, but they were uniformly unsuccessful. A regiment on our right seemed sadly disconcerted, and at one moment was in considerable confusion. Halkett rode out to them, and seizing their colour, waved it over his head, and restored them to something like order, though not before his horse was shot under him. At the height of their unsteadiness we got the order to ‘right face’ to move to their assistance; some of the men mistook it for ‘right about face,’ and faced accordingly, when old Major M‘Laine, 73rd, called out, ‘No, my boys, its “right face”; you’ll never hear the right about as long as a French bayonet is in front of you!’”
At Planchenoit, in the rear of the French centre, Lobau and his 10,000 men were doing their upmost to prevent Bülow with three times that number of troops from succouring Wellington. The French held the village for two hours, and then saw it fall into the hands of the enemy, but only for a time. Some of the Young Guard and three batteries of artillery had been sent by the Emperor to support Lobau, and when they arrived the scales again turned in favour of the French. While this body was held in check, Napoleon’s infantry had suffered near Hougoumont, but La Haye Sainte had fallen, as already noticed. Had Napoleon sent reinforcements to Ney he might have won the battle, but he hesitated to use his remaining reserves. Before anything further was done, Wellington had made fresh dispositions, and Ziethen’s men, who had marched by way of Ohain, were on the field.
Six battalions of the Middle Guard and two battalions of the Old Guard were at last sent forward.101 As they crossed the open ground between Hougoumont and the high road the artillery played sad havoc with some of them, but behind the crest of the ridge was Maitland’s brigade of the Foot Guards, led by Wellington, himself. “Up, Guards, and make ready!” he shouted, and ere the first column was upon them the British infantry had dealt a deadly fire into its ranks which made it pause. The second column was caught in flank by Adam’s Brigade. Then two brigades of British cavalry charged, and although the celebrated Imperial Guards endeavoured to hold their own they were forced back. Blücher, who had arrived at a most opportune moment, carried the position occupied by the French right at Papelotte and La Haye with Ziethen’s corps. The whole Allied line then advanced, the heights were carried, and Napoleon’s last army, on the victory of which he had staked his all, was scattered. The battle of Waterloo was won. “My plan,” said the Commander-in-Chief, “was to keep my ground until the Prussians appeared, and then to attack the French position; and I executed my plan.”
Throughout the night the Prussians followed up the defeated legions, which got across the Sambre on the 19th. Some 30,000 of Napoleon’s men were killed or wounded, and 13,000 of the Allied army, more than half of whom were British. On the 22nd June 1815, the fallen Emperor abdicated in favour of his son; on the 7th July the Allies entered Paris in triumph, and eight days later Napoleon surrendered to Captain Maitland, of H.M.S. Bellerophon.
The Desolator desolate!
The Victor overthrown!
The Arbiter of others fate
A Suppliant for his own!
Byron.
CHAPTER XX
Wellington the Statesman
(1815–52)
“It is the duty of all to look our difficulties in the face and to lay the ground for getting the better of them.”
Wellington.
While the good folk of London were listening to the guns of the Tower and of the Park, which told of the Waterloo victory, and the joyful news was percolating to the smallest hamlet, Wellington was fighting a battle in which neither sword nor gun was involved. It was one of diplomacy, and he proved the conqueror. Blücher, armed with the Declaration of the 13th March 1815 to the effect that “Napoleon Bonaparte is put beyond the pale of social and civil relations, and as enemy and disturber of the repose of the world, he is delivered over to public vengeance,” was for seizing the fallen Emperor and shooting him as an outlaw at Vincennes, the scene of the Duc d’Enghien tragedy.102 The bloodthirsty Prussian asked for Wellington’s views on the matter. He received them without delay, and expressed in such a way that Blücher must have felt thoroughly ashamed of himself, if only for a passing moment. “They had both acted too distinguished a part in the recent transactions to become executioners,” the Duke wrote. This single sentence reveals the sterling uprightness of the man and his hatred of unnecessary bloodshed. Even supposing that he had received authority for the carrying out of such a measure, it is extremely doubtful whether Wellington would have concurred in his colleague’s wish. Blücher sneered—and accepted the decision. Wellington also found himself in disagreement with the Prussian view regarding the bridge of Jena at Paris, which commemorated the crushing Prussian defeat of October 1806. Blücher, with true patriotic zeal as it seemed to him, was for blowing it to pieces. Wellington regarded the idea as foolish, and he carried his point. It would have been a bitter day for the Capital had Blücher been allowed to work his will. The Prussian Commander insisted on levying a contribution on the city of Paris of 100,000,000 francs. Wellington upset the scheme by insisting that the question was one for the Allied sovereigns to arrange. For the third time vindictive Blücher had to give in.
When the Provisional Government appealed to the Duke with reference to Napoleon’s successor, he bluntly told them that “the best security for Europe was the restoration of the King,” namely, Louis XVIII, and that he should be recalled “without loss of time, so as to avoid the appearance of the measure having been forced upon them by the allies.”
When the Exile King returned to Paris the enormous demands of certain of the Powers, particularly of Austria and Prussia, had to be discussed. Had it not been for the resistance of Castlereagh, Wellington, and Nesselrode, extensive partitions undoubtedly would have resulted. As finally settled by the Second Treaty of Paris, concluded on the 20th November, the territory of France was reduced to practically the limits of 1790, an indemnity of 700,000,000 francs was determined for the expenses of the war, and an army of occupation not exceeding 150,000 troops under the Duke was to garrison the chief frontier fortresses, including Valenciennes, Cambray, Quesnoy, Maubeuge, and Landrecy, for a maximum period of five years, the expense being met by the French Government. The magnificent art treasures, which Napoleon had gloried in plundering, were to be returned to their rightful owners. That is why the celebrated bronze horses of St Mark may be seen on the great Venetian Cathedral to-day, and the wonderful “Descent from the Cross,” by Rubens, admired in the Cathedral of Antwerp, from whence it had been taken to find a temporary resting-place in the Louvre.
An excellent account of the Army of Occupation is given by a Scotsman who visited Paris shortly after the battle of Waterloo. There were comparatively few Austrians, the majority of them being in the south of France, but those seen by the writer of Paul’s Letters to his Kinsfolk were “bulky men” who “want the hardy and athletic look of the British, Russians, or Prussians.” The Russian infantry were “fine, firm, steady-looking men, clean, handsome, but by no means remarkable for stature.” The artillery were “in the highest possible order,” the cavalry “remarkably fine men,” the appearance of the Cossacks “prepossessing.” The Prussians, while never having been accused of “gross violence,” succeeded in wrecking the Château de Montmorency, where a large body of them was quartered. Camp-kettles were boiled with picture-frames, and the furniture stripped by female camp followers. Paul notes that the Prussian officers were the principal customers of the expensive restaurants and theatres, but that many British officers of rank had gone so far as to decline the quarters appointed them in private houses. He bestows much praise on Wellington for his discipline and justice: “The strong sense and firmness for which the Duke is as much distinguished as for skill in arms and bravery in the field of battle, easily saw that the high and paramount part which Britain now holds in Europe, that preeminence which, in so many instances, has made her and her delegates the chosen mediators when disputes occurred amongst the allied powers, depends entirely on our maintaining pure and sacred the national character for good faith and disinterested honour. The slightest complaint, therefore, of want of discipline or oppression perpetrated by a British officer or soldier has instantly met with reprehension and punishment, and the result has been the reducing the French to the cruel situation of hating us without having any complaint to justify themselves for doing so, even in their own eyes.... The soldiers, without exception, both British and foreigners, conduct themselves in public with civility, are very rarely to be seen intoxicated, though the means are so much within reach; and, considering all the irritating circumstances that exist, few quarrels occur betwixt them and the populace. Very strong precautions are, however, taken in case of any accidental or premeditated commotion.”
Wellington threw the whole weight of his influence on the side of moderation. Prussia was all for partition, for getting her territorial “pound of flesh,” but the calmer statesmanship of the diplomatists already mentioned, especially of Wellington, won the day. The Duke’s policy is clearly outlined in his dispatch of the 11th August, which, in the opinion of Dr Holland Rose, “deserves to rank among his highest titles to fame.”
Wellington states that while France has been left “in too great strength for the rest of Europe, weakened as all the powers of Europe have been by the wars in which they have been engaged with France,” his objection to the demand of a “great cession from France upon this occasion is, that it will defeat the object which the Allies have held out to themselves in the present and the preceding wars.” He then proceeds to detail what were, in his opinion, the various causes which led to so much bloodshed: “to put an end to the French Revolution, to obtain peace for themselves and their people, to have the power of reducing their overgrown military establishments, and the leisure to attend to the internal concerns of their several nations, and to improve the situation of their people. The Allies took up arms against Buonaparte because it was certain that the world could not be at peace as long as he should possess, or should be in a situation to attain, supreme power in France; and care must be taken,” he adds, “in making the arrangements consequent upon our success, that we do not leave the world in the same unfortunate situation respecting France that it would have been in if Buonaparte had continued in possession of his power.”
The Duke then goes on to review the situation. If Louis XVIII were to refuse the cession of territory, his people would undoubtedly support him, and the Allies “might take the fortresses and provinces which might suit them, but there would be no genuine peace for the world, no nation could disarm, no Sovereign could turn his attention from the affairs of this country.” If the King consented to the partition, “which, from all that one hears, is an event by no means probable, the Allies must be satisfied, and must retire; but I would appeal to the experience of the transactions of last year for a statement of the situation in which we should find ourselves.” France was then reduced to her limits of 1792, and “the Allies were obliged to maintain each in the field half of the war establishment stipulated in the treaty of Chaumont, in order to guard their conquests, and what had been ceded to them.” In France “the general topic of conversation was the recovery of the left bank of the Rhine as the frontier of France.” Wellington therefore preferred “the temporary occupation of some of the strong places, and to maintain for a time a strong force in France, both at the expense of the French Government, and under strict regulation, to the permanent cession of even all the places which in my opinion ought to be occupied for a time. These measures will not only give us, during the period of occupation, all the military security which could be expected from the permanent cession, but, if carried into execution in the spirit in which they are conceived, they are in themselves the bond of peace.”
During the remainder of his stay in France, broken by a short visit to England in 1816, Wellington was far from popular, and one or two attempts were made on his life. It was scarcely to be expected that a man who had been pre-eminently successful in the field against the nation’s armies would be lauded as a popular hero, but, as we have seen, he had helped to save the country from a bitter and vindictive humiliation. He finally returned home in 1818, when the Army of Occupation evacuated France with the consent of the Powers at the request of its Commander-in-Chief. He never again drew his sword in warfare, but he maintained a commanding position in the affairs of Great Britain until the close of his long life.
His honours and orders were now varied and many. England and foreign countries honoured themselves by honouring him. Parliament voted him £200,000 for the erection or purchase of Strathfieldsaye, Hampshire, and the estate granted to him as Prince of Waterloo by the King of the Netherlands was valued at £4000 per annum. On his return to England he became Master of the Ordnance, which entitled him to a seat in the Cabinet.
In 1821 Wellington revisited the scene of his most famous battle with George IV, and afterwards proceeded to Verona to represent, with Lord Strangford, Great Britain at the Congress about to be held there to determine the attitude of England, France, Russia, Austria, and Prussia regarding various matters, including the insurrection in Greece and the relations of Russia and Turkey in the matter, the evacuation of Piedmont and Naples by the Austrian troops, the slave trade, and more particularly the unhappy state of affairs in Spain, which country was then in a state of civil war. Should the five Powers send armed assistance to Ferdinand, whom Wellington’s victories in the Peninsula had replaced on the throne? Answering for his own country the Duke maintained the principle of non-interference excepting in a case of necessity. In this matter Great Britain stood alone, and the Duke had to run the gauntlet of fierce criticism on his return to England.
