Battle of Waterloo (diary accounts)/Description of the Battle of Waterloo
Description of the Battle of Waterloo,
By an Officer present.
As we stood on our commanding spot, the first thought was most naturally of the numbers of the contending armies respectively. The British were stated by Buonaparte himself, at 80,060 and certainly they have never been made out to have been more. Marshal Blucher estimates them at the same number. Of these not more than 30,000 were actually British; the rest were Germans, Belgians, and Dutch. There were assuredly no corps of Prussians in the battle before the evening.
The French army certainly were 130,000[1] making the enormous balance in their favour of 50,000 men; and, be it never forgotten, all French, and the best troops in France.
In truth, the British army were a mile and a half from the nearest skirts of the wood, and never had one man within it; and so far from being crushed and overlaid, the masses, and of the French guard too, were often routed by the bold dash of an almost incredibly small proportion of their numbers,—nay sometimes, as will afterwards be told of the Highlanders and Scotch Greys, and it happened in many other parts of the field besides, by the prodigies of nearly insolated, individual valour.
Buonaparte knew the number of his already devoted adversaries well; and, with his usual presumption, expressed great astonishment to see their undismayed front on that side of the forest. His fear was, that they would escape him in the night; and he exclaimed on first seeing their order of battle with the dawn —“Ah! I have them then, these English!”
The regular battle, it is well known, commenced by the almost simultaneous advance (and we distinctly saw their course) of three entire corps d’armee on the right, left, and centre, of the British line. The attack on the right had for its first object the carrying of the post of Hougoumont, the key of the position: in possession of which, the French, could have turned the British right. That column had shortest way to move; and, under King Jerome, it was there the cannon and musketry first began.
The utmost success of probably 30,000 men was, obliging the light companies of the 1st, 2d and 3d foot guards, under the command of Lord Saltoun, to take refuge within the post, instead of defending the small wood, on the outside of it. The post itself was never occupied by the enemy for a moment. The guards kept, in spite of grape, and musketry, and balls, and shells, and flames; till they issued from it victorious in the hour of vengeance.
The corps d’armee destined for the left, (the 6th) soon arrived in the first attack in that quarter about the centre of the British left wing; but were calmly received and repulsed, by the admirably served artillery, and by the 42d, 79th and 92d Highlanders, supported, it is believed, by the 1st and 28th regiments, under the lamented Sir Thomas Picton. The whole slope was in our view. Nothing could be more tremendous than the mode of attack; it was headed by artillery, which discharged showers of iron grape shot, each bullet larger than a walnut. It was a battle, on the part of the French, of cavalry and cannon, both equipped as if by magic, and much more formidable than had ever been known in the French armies, even to take the field.
Heading these columns were the iron cased cuirassiers, in as complete mail, breast and back, as in the days of that defensive armour upon which the musket balls were heard to ring as they glanced off, without injuring or even stunning the wearer. These men at arms had immense infantry columns of support at their backs.
A stunted hedge bounded each side of a narrow cross road which ran along the whole of the British left wing, joining the great road near the Duke of Wellington’s tree, already mentioned. In the hedge there were a number of gaps, which had been made to serve as a kind of embrasures for a line of the British cannon of the left wing; and a trifling bank only here and there, two or three feet high, on which the hedge grew, and in which apertures for the guns were cut where necessary, was the only thing resembling shelter, which any portion of our artillery enjoyed.
When the cannon and infantry had staggered the masses of the enemy, and somewhat calmed their fury; round the extremity of the cross road, full on the flank of the foe—horse, in perfect condition; men, in steady determination—wheeled, like a whirlwind, the Royals Greys, and Enniskillens—England, Scotland, and Ireland, in high rivalry and irresistible union. In vain, for the second time' the iron cases, their cannon was deserted and taken; and the columns of infantry were thrown into such confusion, that they had just time to get beyond the range of the prudent pursuit of their adversaries, whose warfare was yet defensive. The dragoons and infantry, with their captured cannons and eagles, calmly returned to their place in position, to await the next advance of the enemy.
If our present ground had the well-fought round now faintly described, in full view; so had Napoleon's station, about a mile along the road from where we stood, With the poor farmer Lacoste pinioned on horseback beside him, stood the Emperor, unable to conceal his astonishment at the recoil, and almost flight, of his best troops; and constrained in spite of himself, repeatedly to mutter compliments to the spirit; rapidity, and steadiness of the British cavalry;—“These British fight admirably,” said he to Soult; “but they must give way.”—“No, sir, they prefer being cut to pieces," was the answer of him who knew something of them. The grey horses especially struck him, and he often repeated, “What fine troops!”
The attacks now described, we are told, might serve as a fair specimen of the reiterated war during the entire day. From eleven in the morning till seven at night, it consisted of a succession of such assaults, with unabated fury, and increasing numbers, and often with a boldness and deadly effect, which perplexed our soldiers, and put their matchless firmness to the utmost trial. It may be believed that every fresh onset swept away multitudes of our infantry; still the survivors gave not an inch of ground, but made good the lines, and firm the squares.—No men in Europe could have endured more than they did.—Again and again the enemy’s cannon rebounded from their adamantine front, dismayed and scattered. These were the breathing times of our heroes! Line was with admirable alacrity formed for a greater breadth of fire than the squares afforded, immediately on seeing the back plates of the cuirasses; when masses of French infantry approached with a heavy fire of musketry, They did 'go through their works’ as Napoleon often muttered, ‘unlike any troops he had ever seen.’ Such were the dreadful visits of cannon and cavalry, that, as I have been assured, these interludes of infantry battles were a kind of refreshment, after their toil with other arms.—They never took the trouble to look at the numbers; they felt as if boys had attacked them, merely to keep them in wind; and invariably routed the columns by a very few steps in advance with pointed bayonets.
The Duke, in visiting different points was often received with a shout of impatience to be led on. The gallant 95th were very tired of the iron cases, and the iron grape shot. An immense body of French infantry happened to approach that noble regiment at one time when the commander was paying them a visit; “Let us at ’em; my Lord," let us down upon ’em," quite regardless of their numbers. “Not yet,” replied the chief, “not yet my brave men, but you shall have at them soon; firm a little longer; we must not be beat; what would they say in England?"
From our advantage ground we had gained a very satisfactory general idea of the field, and before setting out on a circuit of more minute inspection, went down to the farm house of La-Haye Saint, to examine the state in which the conflict had left that post. Much of the wreck of the battle lay between the Duke of Wellington’s station and the farmhouse, which manifested the hazard to which he had been exposed. It is just an ordinary farm house and court of offices. The house farms one side of a square and the offices the other three; the court yard, collecting the manure in the middle, and sheltering the cattle. The side opposite to the house is a long building for cows; the passage being separated from the cow’s stalls by a parapet above four feet high. At each end of the passage is a large door or gate, both of which were literally riddled with musket balls, fired from within, and from without, as could easily be distinguished from the kind of hole the ball had made. The bodies, after the action, were heaped up in the cow’s stalls, as high as the parapet. The whole farm house, yard, and offices, might have afforded room for 1000 or 1500 men to act. They had made holes for musketry all around the building; and many a hole had been made for them by the enemy. The whole presented a scene of shattered ruin, which could not be looked upon without a degree of interest amounting to terror. It stood a noble monument of the determined valour of our German brethren in arms.
Some very poor children who seemed to starve about the ruins soon joined us, and began to beg money from us with most persevering importunity. Their miserable appearance was in perfect agreement with the scene of desolation about them. We saw no grown people who seem’d to have any interest in the place.
Having succeeded in opening the shattered door which led out to the fields to the west, we saw several women still engaged in the lately most lucrative occupation of gleaning up any thing which they could sell to strangers. The same persons had, very probably, been active in stripping and plundering the slain. We asked them where they were during the action? — “All in the wood.” — Did they hear the noise: — The answer was a shrug and look of dreadful recollection. They seemed to be finding very little worth taking up. We were ourselves, at the moment, more fortunate, for among some straw, and plainly marked with blood, we found a French bayonet, which we brought away with us.
If the unknown dead called forth these feelings, much more did the consciousness of standing on the spot, where some one, known to us, had “nobly fought and nobly died.” We stood where then interesting Sir William de Lancey met his death, when rallying, with great spirit and effect, a battalion of Hanoverians, which had got into confusion. He nobly refused to occupy the time of the surgeons with his wound, which he had heard them pronounce mortal, when they thought him insensible. He was removed to the village of Waterloo, where he died. That gallant young man’s early name, and just favour with his great commander, excited general and deep regret for his fate; and no where more than in Edinburgh, where he had been married only a few weeks before.
Indeed the instances of heroic death were as numerous as they were affecting. Colonel Miller of the first Guards requested a last sight of the colours under which he had fought. He kissed them fervently, and begged they might be waved over him till he expired.
The lamented Captain Curson, Lord Scarsdale’s son, met his fate with almost “military glee.” In falling from his horse, he called out gaily to Lord March, who was riding with him at a gallop — "Good b’ye, dear March.” And by one effort more, when his friend had left him for the urgent duty of animating a foreign corps, in very critical circumstances, he looked up, and cried, “Well done, dear March.”
The afflicting idea strongly occurred, of the next day’s horrors of such a field as Waterloo. Numbers of the desperately wounded and dying, in the midst of the dead, raised their heads, when visitors to the scene passed them, to implore water, or to beg at their hands to end their agonies. Many of the wounded were not removed till Wednesday, the third day after the battle.
The 12th light dragoons was posted near the Prince of Orange. Their charges were of the most spirited kind; and nothing but the cuirasses enabled the French dragoons to resist them. In the account of so much pure valour without trick or cover, against so much iron, it is not difficult to decide where honour would award the balance. Many brave men were sacrificed to the iron cases, and taffeta flags which frightened their horses. A gallant young friend of mine own, Mr Elliot Lockhart, eldest son of the member for Selkirkshire, lay near the spot we had now reached. He had just joined the 12th dragoons, and in the first charge of his regiment, in which he bore a very distinguished part, received a wound which was instantly fatal. There was a melancholy satisfaction in beholding the spot of his honorable grave; a prouder sepulchre the turf on which the soldier falls, than the proudest mausoleum on consecrated ground.
No part of the field was more fertile in impressive associations, than the ground of the 30th and 73d regiments, brigaded under our gallant countryman, severely wounded in the battle, Sir Colin Halket. I had already heard much of the firmness of these brave troops; and was to hear still more. To no square did the artillery, and particularly the cuirassiers, pay more frequent and tremendous visits; and never was it shaken for a moment. The almost intimacy of the soldiers with these deathbringing visitants, increased so much as the day advanced, that they began to recognise their faces. Their boldness much provoked our men. They galloped up to the bayonet points, where of course their horses made a full stop, to the great danger of pitching their riders into the square. They then rode round and round the fearless bulwark of bayonets; and in all the confidence of panoply, often coolly walked their horses, to have more time to search for some chasm in the ranks, where they might ride in. The balls absolutely rung upon their mail; and nothing incommoded the rider, except bringing down his horse, which at last became the general order. In that event he surrendered himself, and was received within the square, till he could be sent prisoner to the rear; — a generosity ill-merited, when it is considered that the French spared very few lives, which it was in their power to take. Many officers were murdered, after giving up their swords; and when prisoners were collected, cavalry were sent to cut them down, when circumstances at the moment prevented their removal! A young officer of the Greys, well known to the author, was shot by a French officer whose life he had preserved. The object of the Frenchman was to make his escape, He did not effect his purpose; being overtaken and cut to pieces by the enraged soldiers.
- ↑ According to the account given of the Port Folio, found in Buonaparte's carriage, he passed the French frontier with 110,000 men only.