La France du dedans et du dehors?

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 manœuvre, 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 manœuvre, 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.