After this he was not so severely pressed; the same heavy thunderstorm which had delayed Grouchy did much to check the Emperor’s pursuit. It was nearly 7 p.m. on the 17th before the head of the French army reached the front of the position of Mont St Jean, where Wellington had been arranging his army as it came up. A reconnaissance in the rain showed the Emperor that his enemy was standing ready to receive him; and he halted to allow the rest of his troops to arrive. So long was his column that much of the infantry did not reach the front till after midnight, and at least one division only on the following morning. The troops were much fatigued by their long tramp in the rain, and had outmarched their commissariat; there was no proper distribution of rations either that night or the next day. They bivouacked in the mud of the fields, drenched through, fireless, and half-starved.

Wellington’s position on that night was an anxious one, in spite of the fact that he had carried out his retreat without loss or disorder. All now depended on the Prussians; he had sent them, early in the morning, his offer to fight on the battle-ground he had chosen, if he were promised the aid of a single army-corps. If they replied that this was impossible, he would have to retire again, and to sacrifice Brussels, which lay some eleven miles to his rear. It was only after midnight that he received the all-important answer to his proposal. Blucher had been hors de combat on the 17th, owing to the contusions he had suffered at Ligny; and the details of the Prussian movements during that day had been regulated by Gneisenau, his chief of the staff. But at night the indomitable old man had recovered sufficiently to resume command; it was he who received the Duke’s offer, and he promptly accepted it. Certain objections were made by Gneisenau and other generals, who thought that a flank march so near the enemy was full of dangers, and that it was wrong to throw up the safe line of retreat on Maestricht which the army now possessed. This was true enough; but the chance of catching Napoleon in flank and overwhelming him with superior numbers was too good to be lost. Blucher wrote that he would despatch Bulow’s corps to join the English at daybreak, and send after it that of Pirch. His other two corps should follow if not prevented. He knew Grouchy’s exact position, and thought it might be necessary to detach Thielmann and Ziethen to hold him back. Blucher had risen to the full height of the situation; and these orders, once given, decided the fate of the campaign. If they had been carried out with exactitude, they would have ended it with far less expenditure of blood than was actually incurred on June 18. The execution, however, was not equal to the conception; the plan worked, but it worked over-slowly and over-late.

Reassured as to the cooperation of the Prussians, Wellington drew up his army on the hill-side of Mont St Jean, across the two high-roads Nivelles-Brussels and Charleroi-Brussels, which there meet. The position does not at the first sight appear very strong ; the slopes are gentle, and do not rise more than 120 or 150 feet above the level of the valley which divides them from the French lines. There was no cover in front, save at three isolated points. Before the British right lay the farm, orchard, and copse of Hougoumont, surrounded with hedges and walls; in front of the exact centre, on the Charleroi high-road, is the smaller farm of La Haye Sainte; far away on the extreme left lie two other farms, close together, Papelotte and La Haye. All these were occupied: Hougoumont by a brigade of the British Guards; La Haye Sainte by a picked detachment of the German Legion; the other two by Bernard of Saxe-Weimar’s Nassau brigade. The enemy would have to storm them, before he could make any solid lodgement in the British position. But the feature which Wellington regarded as most advantageous in his field of battle was that behind his fighting line the ground stretched away in a broad plateau falling slightly toward the north. Here he could array his reserves completely out of sight of the enemy, and bring them to the front without exposing them to view till the crest was reached. It was the exact converse of the Ligny position, where all the Prussian reserves had been exposed to Napoleon’s eye, and many of them to his artillery, before they were brought into action. Wellington had 67,000 men on the ground. Of these, 24,000 were British; 5800 belonged to the King’s German Legion, of Peninsular fame; 11,000 were Hanoverians. There was the Brunswick corps, reduced to 5500 men by its losses at Quatre-Bras ; two Nassau brigades (Kruse and Saxe-Weimar) over 6000 strong; and finally 14,000 Dutch- Belgians. These last were the weak point in the line; horse and foot had behaved feebly at Quatre-Bras, and did not redeem their reputation at Waterloo. It was a motley array at best, but, with Blucher due before noon, all seemed safe; the Duke knew it would be more than a mere morning’s work to wear down his stubborn British and German infantry. It was probably in reliance on the early arrival of his ally that Wellington had left, far out on his right, a day’s march from Mont St Jean, a force consisting of a strong Dutch-Belgian division, with one British and one Hanoverian brigade, under General Colville and Prince Frederick of Orange. They lay at Hal, on the Mons-Brussels road, nearly 14,000 strong, intended apparently to guard against a turning movement of the French. But it had long been ascertained that Napoleon had no detached corps to the west; it was a mistake not to call Colville in.

On the low ridge opposite Mont St Jean, Napoleon had arrayed some 74,000 veteran troops, on each side of the farm of La Belle Alliance and the high-road from Charleroi to Brussels. He showed no hurry to begin the battle on the morning of that eventful Sunday, June 18, 1815. Indeed, the rear of his infantry only reached the field after daybreak, and required some hours of rest. Wellington lay quietly in his front, inviting attack: Blucher, so Napoleon supposed, was out of the game. He had news from Grouchy, dated from Gembloux at 10 p.m. on the 17th, to the effect that one Prussian corps had retired on Wavre, but that the rest of the troops defeated at Ligny were heading for Perwez, on the road to Liege, i.e. were falling back towards their base, and leaving Wellington to his fate. The Marshal added that he intended to follow the force that had moved on Wavre, in order to head it off from Brussels and separate it from the British army. This information seemed to guarantee the Emperor against any interference on the part of the Prussians. Grouchy, it is true, learnt more of the facts of the situation on the following morning, and wrote at 6 a.m. to inform his master that the bulk of Blucher’s men had gone to Wavre, not to Perwez. But this despatch did not reach La Belle Alliance till after Napoleon had made his arrangements; and, even if it had arrived earlier, it contained no hint that the Prussians were moving on Mont St Jean.

Napoleon, therefore, gave his weary army a long rest after daybreak, and put off the hour of attack, so that the sodden ground might grow drier and permit of the free movement of his artillery across the fields. It was only about 11 a.m. that his forces were deployed for action. Their array was very simple, as simple as the Emperor’s own plan of battle, which contemplated nothing more nor less than the smashing in of the British centre by a tremendous frontal attack. His army was formed in three lines; in front were Reille’s corps on the left, d’Erlon’s on the right, each with cavalry on the outer wing. The second line was formed of Lobau’s incomplete infantry corps (only 7000 men), with the reserve cavalry, no less than six divisions, deployed on its wings. Last of all came the Imperial Guard, 20,000 strong, the infantry in column on the high-road, the cavalry in line to right and left. It was a magnificent array, and every man was visible from the British position. The Emperor, on the other hand, could not make out much of Wellington’s arrangements. There were visible to him only the four isolated farms on the slope, and above them a line of infantry and guns along the crest; the reserves were out of sight. The Duke had formed a front line of twelve infantry brigades, six British, four Hanoverian, one Nassau, and one Dutch, with two British cavalry brigades on his extreme left, in the direction from which the Prussians were expected to appear. In second line, behind his centre, was the rest of his horse, British and Dutch. The infantry reserve was massed for the most part behind the right wing, because the Prussian aid was expected on the left. Blucher, according to the arrangements made on the preceding night, would form the true reserve of the Duke’s left wing.

Never, in any of his earlier fights, had Napoleon massed such numbers on so short a front; the whole French line was less than three miles long, including the cavalry on its extreme wings. In the tactical dis­position the infantry was used in heavy columns of unprecedented solidity. They were to push their way through the British line by mere force of impact. This arrangement did not please those of the Emperor's lieutenants who had seen the wars of Spain, and remembered the poor exhibition that column-tactics had always made against the English two-deep formation. Soult urged caution; but Napoleon replied in an insulting outburst, “You were beaten by Wellington, and so you think he is a great general. But I tell you that Wellington is a bad general, and the English are bad troops; they will merely be a breakfast for us 1 ” A little later, Reille was asked his opinion of the British infantry; he replied that he thought that, in a good defensive position, they could repel any frontal attack. He hoped that his master would manoeuvre and try flank movements; front-to-front action would be costly and unsuccessful. The Emperor paid no attention ; he was deter­mined to try the effect of assaults by massive columns upon the long red line that crowned the opposite hill-side.

About 11.30 a.m. the French army was at last on the move. After some cannonading, a division of Reille’s infantry pressed in upon the farm of Hougoumont. After some fighting, the copse and orchard were carried; but in the farm-buildings and the garden two battalions of the British Guards held their own, and beat off regiment after regiment as it surged in upon them. This, however, was but a side-issue; the Emperor’s real attack was to be delivered on the other side of the high­road, half a mile further to the east. Here, under cover of the fire of a long row of batteries, eighty pieces in all, d’Erlon’s corps was waiting the order to attack the British left-centre. It was formed in four great columns, each a species of phalanx containing eight battalions, ranged one behind another. This order of battle was extremely unwieldy; but, in many a fight, Continental troops had broken up in panic at the mere approach of such a moving multitude. Just as Napoleon was about to order d’Erlon to attack, he received an unpleasant surprise. It was pointed out to him that masses of troops were coming into sight far to the north-east, on the heights of Chapelle St Lambert, some six miles away. A few hours earlier, the Emperor would have been puzzled to guess what this force could be; but he had received, some little time back, Grouchy’s despatch of the early morning, in­forming him that Blucher, far from retiring towards Liege, was massed at Wavre. The force in the distance must, then, be some fraction of the Prussian army. Soon afterwards a prisoner was brought in, a hussar of Bulow’s corps, who, when questioned, divulged the fact that his general was marching to join Wellington. The Emperor reflected for a moment; then he gave d’Erlon orders to proceed with his attack. Bulow was still far away; Grouchy was probably in pursuit of him; the battle might be won before the Prussians could intervene.

Accordingly, at about 1.30 p.m., the four vast columns forming the 1st corps crossed the little valley that separated them from the British position, and began to climb the opposite hill. One brigade diverged to storm the farm of La Haye Sainte; the rest advanced straight against Wellington’s left-centre. At the head of the slope they came under a hot musketry fire, but continued to press forward. The first troops that they encountered were Bylandt’s Dutch-Belgian brigade, which fled to the rear in disorder. A moment later they came upon Picton’s two British brigades, reduced to little more than half their strength by the losses of Quatre-Bras, but steady as ever. A furious musketry engagement began; the French were five times more numerous, but, owing to their vicious formation, could bring no more muskets to bear than could their opponents. While both sides were blazing into each other at close quarters, and the smoke lay thick around them, there was a sudden rush from the rear; and two brigades of British heavy cavalry—Somerset’s Horse Guards and Life Guards, and Ponsonby's Union Brigade—charged into the thick of the French columns. D’Erlon’s men were caught unprepared, while closely engaged with Picton’s infantry. The unwieldy masses were riven to pieces, hurled down the slope, and chased back to their old position with the loss of two eagles, 3000 prisoners, and several thousands more of killed and wounded. Un­fortunately, the British horse, drunk with the exhilaration of success, failed to check their career, and rode straight into the French lines, sabring the fugitives, till Napoleon flung upon them cavalry from right and left, and swept them home again with fearful loss. Of the 2500 who had charged, a full thousand were left behind dead or disabled. Ponsonby, the commander of the Union Brigade, was killed in cold blood after he had been made prisoner. Picton, too, had fallen in the very moment of victory.

Prudence would now have counselled Napoleon to break off the battle. Bülow had become visible in the nearer distance, advancing slowly towards the French right flank. Lobau’s small 6th corps and two brigades of reserve cavalry had to be detached to the east to intercept him. This reduced by 10,000 men the number available for the attack on Wellington. Moreover, a new despatch was received from Grouchy, alarming because it showed that at 11 a.m. he was still far from Wavre and had no conception of Bulow’s having marched to join Wellington. But Napoleon had no idea of ordering a retreat; he knew that he was ruined if he failed to beat Wellington that afternoon. The British must be crushed at all costs before the Prussians came up in force.

Accordingly, at 3.30 p.m. the Emperor directed Ney to take charge of his front line and resume the attack. The least injured regiments of d’Erlon’s corps marched against La Haye Sainte; a fresh brigade of Reille’s corps went forward to reinforce the baffled assailants of Hougoumont. Little or no progress was made at either point; and the Marshal resolved to have recourse to a new expedient—a great cavalry charge against the front of the British line between the two farms. At about 4 p.m. Ney ordered Milhaud’s two divisions of cuirassiers to charge; they moved up, supported by the light cavalry of the Imperial Guard, forming in all a mass of 5000 veteran horsemen. At the sight of their approach, the fifteen British and Hanoverian battalions forming Wellington’s right-centre fell into squares, and prepared to withstand the shock. The tremendous episode which filled the next two hours was the part of the battle of Waterloo which impressed itself most strongly on the memory of the survivors on the British side. Never, in all the Napoleonic wars, was there so prolonged a whirlwind of cavalry charges as those which filled the later hours of that afternoon. Milhaud’s first onslaught was only the beginning; he breasted the slope, drove the allied gunners from their batteries, and then dashed at the squares. They did not flinch, and their fire blew the squadrons to pieces; then Wellington ordered his own cavalry reserves to advance, and drove the enemy down the slope. But the attacks were renewed again and again; and, in the intervals, the French artillery played upon the British squares with deadly effect. It was their round-shot, and not the swords of the cuirassiers, which made such havoc among the battalions of Wellington’s centre.

When Milhaud had failed to break a single British square, and his corps was hopelessly disorganised, Ney called up the rest of the reserve cavalry from the second line, Kellermann’s two divisions of cuirassiers; they were followed by the heavy squadrons of the Guard. This splendid veteran cavalry, 5000 strong, fell upon the crippled squares; Milhaud’s scattered brigades reformed themselves, and fell in as supports to the new attacking force. There followed an hour of confused melee; the horsemen rode through the line of squares and even to the very rear of the British position, charging every face of the dwindling blocks of British and German infantry, but always failing to break in. Yet the stress was so great that Wellington used up all his cavalry, save those of the extreme left wing, in the struggle, and gradually pushed forward into the fighting line the whole of his infantry reserve, save one Dutch-Belgian division, which showed such unequivocal signs of demoralisation that the Duke dared not risk it in the front. The shrinkage in the ranks of the squares was fearful; they were dreadfully mauled by the French artillery during the intervals of the charges, and harassed by the fire of tirailleurs, who crept up close to them and could not be driven off, for to open out into line would have meant utter destruction at the hands of the cavalry. One battalion of the German Legion, ordered by the Prince of Orange to deploy, was absolutely exterminated by the cuirassiers before it could resume its formation.

What, meanwhile, were the Prussians doing? Wellington had ex­pected to be succoured before noon, and had only consented to fight on that understanding. Yet six o’clock had arrived, and no relief due to the Prussian operations was yet perceptible. It is impossible to explain the delay, as has often been done, by the bad state of the roads alone.

The roads were much cut up, it is true; but Wavre is only thirteen miles from Mont St Jean, and it does not take from dawn (3.30 a.m. at that season of the year) till 4 p.m. to cover such a distance. The fact was that there had been bad staff-work and also a certain amount of hesitation at the Prussian head-quarters. If Blücher had ordered his nearest corps, that of Thielmann, to march for the French flank at dawn, it would have been in contact with the enemy at 10 or 11 a.m. What Napoleon -would have done in this case it is idle to guess ; he had not at that time committed himself to the battle with Wellington. But Bulow’s corps, which had two miles further to march than the others, was chosen to lead the column, because it had not suffered at Ligny. It did not start till 6 a.m., was stopped in the streets of Wavre —which it ought not to have passed through—by an accidental fire, and then crossed the march of Pirch’s corps. Both columns were blocked; and it was 1.30 p.m. before Bulow’s leading division finally reached Chapelle St Lambert, where, as we have already seen, it at once attracted Napoleon’s attention. It was 4 p.m. before it got into actual contact with the French. This amazing delay, of nearly ten hours, was due not to Blucher, but to Gneisenau, his chief of the staff, who feared that Wellington might retreat, after committing the Prussian army to the dangerous flank march. So late as 10.30 a.m., Gneisenau wrote to Muffling, the Prussian attache at the British head-quarters, adjuring him to find out if the Duke really intended to fight; and it was not, in fact, till the cannonade of Waterloo was making itself heard all over Brabant, that the Prussian advance was urged on with genuine energy. Then, at last, Blucher had reached the front; and he rode up and down the line of march, calling to his men that “ they must not make him break his word,” and encouraging the infantry to help in dragging the embogged cannon across the miry meadows along the Lasne.

It was only about 4 p.m., just as the great French cavalry charges were beginning, that Bulow’s corps reached the wood of Paris, some two miles from Napoleon’s right flank, and began to interchange shots with the French vedettes. The Emperor, as we have seen, had told off Lobau to “contain” them, which he did in the most skilful fashion. Drawing out his troops at right angles to the main Freuch line, he established himself in a good position, with the village of Planchenoit covering his right, and there fought fiercely for two hours against threefold numbers, for Biilow had over 30,000 men. At last, despite all his efforts, Planchenoit was lost; but the Emperor, who had now turned his attention for a space to this comer of the field, sent the four regiments of the Young­ Guard to retake it. These fresh troops, coming up with a sudden rush, completely cleared the village. It was now 6 o’clock; Bulow’s last reserves had been used up; and it could not be said that he had turned the fate of the battle. The only positive difference that his presence had made was that it had compelled the Emperor to divert against him, first and last, some 14,000 men of his reserves, who might otherwise have been used against Wellington. This was far from the support that the Duke had expected when he offered battle. Fortunately, however, at this moment, more Prussian troops drew near. The corps of Ziethen and Pirch, which had started later and moved even more slowly than Billow, were at last at hand.

But, long before their arrival began to produce effect, Napoleon’s last offensive moves had been made. Seeing that the cavalry attacks had achieved no definite success, and that the British line was still un­broken, Ney made a final attempt to force it with his infantry. While the wrecks of d’Erlon’s corps made one more assault on La Haye Sainte, the infantry of the left-centre—the divisions of Foy and Bachelu, belonging to Reille’s corps—pushed forward, to the east of Hougoumont, to assail the much-tried brigades which had just beaten off the cavalry. Though these divisions were fresh troops, engaging battalions wasted by three hours’ desperate fighting, they were repulsed; once more the column withered away before the deadly discharge of the two-deep line. “'C'etait une grele de morts'' wrote Foy in his diary a few days later. But. a little further to the right, the French achieved at this moment the first real success that they had won against Wellington that day. D’Erlon’s men carried La Haye Sainte at about 6.30 p.m. The buildings had been well-nigh pounded to pieces by the French guns; the gallant battalion of the German Legion which held them had exhausted all its cartridges; and the enemy at last burst in. This was the most dangerous moment of the battle for the allied army. A breach had been made in its front line; and the troops on each side of the gap were utterly exhausted and unable to fill it up. Fortunately for Wellington, d’Erlon’s and Reille’s corps were also at the end of their strength; they were unable to push forward. Ney begged the Emperor to send more infantry; but the moment was not propitious for such a request. Napoleon had nothing left in reserve save the fifteen battalions of his Old and Middle Guard; and he grudged spending them. Moreover he was watching a new’ and dangerous attack of the Prussians on Planchenoit which was just impending. “You want more infantry !” he exclaimed, “Où voulez-vous quefen prenne? Voulez-vous quefenfosse?” And for a critical forty minutes he refused to succour Ney. The only movement that he made was to send two of his precious battalions of the Old Guard to feed the defence of Planchenoit, where Billow, now supported by Pireh's corps, had made a third irruption into the village. Like the previous assaults, it was defeated; the Old Guard swept the street and the churchyard free once more.

But, during this short moment of hesitation on the Emperor’s part, Wellington had found means to repair the damage in the neighbourhood of La Haye Sainte. Ziethen’s corps had at length arrived, and had come into touch with his extreme left. He drew from that quarter his last two brigades of British, cavalry, those of Vivian and Vandeleur, and ranged them in the rear of his depleted centre. The much-tried brigades between La Haye Sainte and Hougoumont were drawn in together, and strengthened by other regiments called up from the right. A solid front was once more displayed to the enemy.

It was at this moment that the Emperor made up his mind to deliver his last blow, and to throw the Guard into the thick of the battle. The alternative of retreat was still open to him; and there were good military reasons for accepting it. But the political reasons against taking this line were too cogent to be resisted. As one of his own generals wrote a few days later, “The Emperor might have re­frained from making his last attack, and could have gone off in good order, without leaving a gun behind. But then he must have repassed the Sambre, after having lost 30,000 of the men with whom he had crossed it two days before. How could he have hoped to take up the campaign against the Russians, the Austrians, and the rest of the Allies, after having been forced to retire with loss from before the English army alone ? In spite of the fearful result I cannot blame Napoleon.” Though a retreat might save the army for a few days, it could only mean ultimate disaster. The Emperor, then, was right to attack; his mistake was that he did not send the Guard to the front en masse, the moment that La Haye Sainte fell.

It was past seven when Ney led out from the French position the last column of assault. It was composed of six battalions of the Middle Guard, arrayed in hollow squares—a curious formation for attack, dictated probably by the fear that Wellington might have cavalry waiting to receive them. Two battalions of the Old Guard followed some distance behind, to act as supports. The remaining five were still held back in reserve near or behind La Belle Alliance. The attack was delivered not directly up the high-road towards La Haye Sainte, but half a mile further west and near to Hougoumont. By chance or design the battalions took a formation en Echelon, with the right in advance and the left somewhat refused. The leading square, that furthest to the east, came up the slope opposite Halkett’s British brigade ; the others were making for the ground held by Maitland’s brigade of the Guards. The moment that they began to ascend the heights, all came under a heavy fire of artillery, for Wellington’s gunners, though often driven from their pieces by the cavalry charges, were still holding their positions. The smoke was dense; and the different units seem to have lost sight of each other and to have fought each its own battle.

The shock was short and decisive. The right-hand echelon first reached the crest, engaged in a close and murderous musketry fight with Halkett’s brigade, and then recoiled. A little later the central force, apparently three battalions, came up against Maitland’s Guards and the British battery beside them. When they were seen looming through the smoke,

Wellington, who was present himself at this point, hade the Guards rise to their feet—they had been lying down to escape the fire of the French artillery—and give one volley, after which they were to advance discharge of a well-formed British line was irresistible. The heads of the French squares went down in one weltering mass; then, when their enemy marched on them, still pouring in deliberate volleys, the survivors broke and fled downhill. The advance of Maitland’s brigade was only checked by the appearance of the last French echelon, two battalions strong, somewhat on their flank. But, while the Guards were reforming to meet this new attack, another force came on the scene. Colonel Colbome of the 52nd, whose corps belonged to Adam’s brigade, the unit next to the right of Maitland, had wheeled his battalion out of the main line, so as to place it at right angles to the advancing French and parallel to their flank. His fire tore away the whole left flank of these two battalions, which broke in helpless disorder and rolled down the slope after their beaten comrades. Their retreat earned with it the two battalions of the Old Guard which were crossing the valley in their support, as well as the half-formed and depleted masses of Beillc’s corps which were lingering under the lee of Hougoumont.

Now, as so often in Peninsular battles, the first point-blank

The cry, “la Garde recule," was already running along the whole French line, when Wellington let loose upon the wavering masses below’ him his last British reserves, the two cavalry brigades of Vivian and Vandeleur. They ci-ashed down the hill-side east of Hougoumont, across the debris of the fight, and fell upon the retreating Imperial Guard and the exhausted and disordered remnants of Kellermann’s and Milhaud’s cavalry. All gave way, almost without resistance; and the French centre was transformed in a minute into a panic-stricken crowd. Wellington had bidden his whole front line to advance in support of the cavalry, but it found no enemy to fight; after ascending to the crest of the French position it halted, and left the pursuit to the Prussians. There was no strength to march left in the remnants of the shattered battalions which had borne the burden and heat of the day.

At the moment when Napoleon’s last attack was repulsed by Maitland and Colborne, Ziethen’s Prussian corps had broken in between d’Erlon’s and Lobau’s troops at the north-eastern point of the French front. The right angle formed by the enemy’s line gave way inwards, and the Prussian cavalry arrived near La Belle Alliance, driving their immediate opponents before them, at the same moment that the brigades of Vivian and Vandeleur reached the same point from the other side.

The last resistance made to the Allies was offered by three squares of the Old Guard near the high-road; they held out for some time, in order to protect the retreat of the Emperor, who had lingered with them -while there was any hope of rallying his centre. Charged without success by both British and Prussian cavalry, these veterans at last retired, and mingled with the flying masses in their rear. The Young Guard in Planchenoit held out almost as long; had they given way earlier, the Prussians would have reached the high-road south of the French position, and cut off" the whole army. But this was prevented by the admirable obstinacy of Lobau’s men, who held their own till night fell, and the main battle had long been lost.

The Emperor’s army, now no more than a helpless horde of fugitives, was chased all night by the Prussian cavalry, and never allowed a moment to rally. After being driven out of seven successive bivouacs, which it had attempted to form, it fled over the Sambre next morning, and crossed the frontier in isolated bands. In the last great battle it had lost all its artillery, more than 250 guns, and about 30,000 men in killed and wounded alone. The prisoners were eomparativelv few, probably not more than 6000 or 7000; but, in manv units of the Imperial army, the actual casualties exceeded 50 per cent, of the men present. Wellington’s army had lost over 13,000 men, of whom 7000 were British. The Prussians reported a loss of over 6000.

It has often been endeavoured to fix the responsibility for the loss of Waterloo upon Grouchy; Napoleon himself, and countless later writers on the French side, have alleged that he had it in his power to intervene effectively in the battle and failed to do so. The answer to this accusation is that the Marshal, like Napoleon himself, had not foreseen Blucher’s bold flank mareli to join Wellington, and acted in strict accordance with his master’s orders. In the first despateh that he received on the 18th, written from the field of Mont St Jean at 10 a.m., the Emperor told him to march on Wavre, pushing before him the Prussians in his front, and at the same time to keep up his communications with the main army and send frequent reports. This was exactly' what Grouchy, long before he received the despatch, had determined to do. His troops were already on the march for Wavre, when the opening guns of Waterloo were heard. Some of his officers urged him to march toward the cannonade: but he refused, saying that his duty was to look after the Prussians. As soon as his advanced cavalry reported the enemv in strength beyond the river Dvle—it was Tliielmann’s corps, left behind to detain him—he made preparations to attack them. When the Emperor’s despatch reached him, he congratulated himself on having foreseem and carried out his master's orders. The critical hours of Waterloo passed while Grouchy was forcing tl)e fords and bridges of the Dvle, slowly driving back Thiehnann, who fought desperately to gain time for his commandcr-in-chicf to reach Wellington. Not till 5 p.m. did the Marshal receive Napoleon’s last despatch, telling him that Bulow had been sighted on the heights of Chapelle St Lambert, and ordering him to turn westward and crush this Prussian corps, which he would catch “ en flagrant del'd." It was far too late for Grouchy to do anything of the kind ; at that hour Billow was attacking Planchenoit; and, even if the Marshal had at 5 o’clock despatched towards the field of Mont St Jean such of his troops as were not already engaged at Wavre, they would not have reached it till long after the fate of the battle had been decided. By 8 p.m. the main struggle was over; and there was much more than a three hours’ march (as the Prussians proved) between the Dyle and Planchenoit. Had Grouchy detached troops in that direction, they would have found the Emperor already routed.

Grouchy fought his way across the Dyle on the 18th, but received no news of the great battle that night. He therefore renewed his assault on Thielmann next morning, beat him by sheer force of numbers, and was about to pursue him northward, when he at last heard of the results of Waterloo. Promptly perceiving the danger that Blucher might cut him off, Grouchy ordered an instant retreat. He executed it in very skilful style, reached Namur just in time to avoid being intercepted, defended that town by a rear-guard action till his main body had got clean away, and escaped to France up the valley of the Meuse. He returned with his 33,000 men intact, thinking that he had deserved well of his country, but found that he was to be made the Emperor’s scapegoat and to have the loss of Waterloo imputed to his stupidity or treason. It was a hard fate; his only crime was that, like Napoleon, he had failed to foresee Blucher’s great flank march.

Napoleon, after ordering the wrecks of his army to rally at Laon, set out for Paris at once, and arrived there in a state of great mental and bodily prostration on June 21. The news of his disaster had reached the capital on the preceding night, and was not generally known till a few hours before his arrival. He did not at first grasp the completeness of his own ruin, and spoke to his Ministers of his intention to continue the war, raise a levee en masse, and defend Paris. He had to be reminded that he was no longer the autocrat that he had been when he returned from Moscow or from Leipzig; and that he would have to reckon not only with the enemy in the field, but with the Chambers at home. The Houses had allowed him to appeal to the arbitrament of the sword; but, after his disaster, it was unlikely that they would continue the struggle against united Europe, merely in order to keep him on the throne. The Allies had proclaimed that they were attacking not France but the Emperor; peace, then, might be secured by his abdication. Napoleon had no intention of throwing up the game; and, for a moment, he contemplated dissolving the Chambers and declaring himself absolute. Deceived apparently by treacherous assurances from Fouche, to the effect that the spirit of the deputies was not so hostile as he supposed, he took no decisive measure on the morning of his arrival. In a few hours it was too late for him to act. The Chambers no sooner met than, at the suggestion of La Fayette, they declared themselves in permanent session, and voted that anyone who attempted to dissolve them would be guilty of high treason. To defend themselves, they called out the National Guards, on whose loyalty they could rely. This move struck the Emperor’s counsellors with terror. Lucien Bonaparte alone dared to advise his brother to collect the few regular troops which were in Paris, appeal to the faubourgs., and disperse the Chambers. But Napoleon’s spirit was broken. He declared that he “would never lead a Jacquerie”; the idea of conducting a civil war at the head of the rabble was hateful to him. That night he made up his mind to abdicate; and when, on June 22, the Chambers sent him word that his choice lay between resignation and deposition, he bowed before the storm, and signed a declaration by which he abdicated in favour of his son. On June 25 he retired to Malmaison.

The Chambers believed that it was now in their power to decree a new Constitution for France, though they were much divided as to its form. They appointed a Provisional Government, of which Fouche and Carnot were the leading members. But already it had been practically settled that the Bourbons should be restored. Immediately after Waterloo, Wellington wrote to Louis XVIII at Ghent, advising him to cross the frontier in the wake of the allied armies. The old King saw the wisdom of this counsel, and, on entering French soil at Cateau Cambresis (June 25), published a proclamation in which he announced that he came to resume his rights, that he should adhere to the Con­stitution of 1814, repair the horrors of war, reward his faithful subjects, and punish the guilty in accordance with the forms of law. Next day he made a triumphal entry into Cambrai, which, after a feeble resistance, had been stormed by the British on the 24th. Within the next few days, all the towns north of the Somme which were not held down by regular troops hoisted the white flag; and a “ royal army ” of 5000 or 6000 irregulars assembled at Arras. The movement spread to Normandy, where the Imperialists were forced to shut themselves up in the larger towns ; and the whole country rose to hem them in. When Louis XVIII had been recognised as legitimate King by the greater part of northern France, it was too late for the Chambers to debate on what form of government they would inaugurate, too late also for the Allies to take into consideration any other plan for dealing with France than that of restoring the status quo of 1814. Several of the Powers were not too well pleased. Prussia, in particular, had intended to extort many things before allowing the King to be restored; and her Ministers were indignant with Wellington for having permitted or rather en­couraged Louis to take possession of his kingdom again.

Meanwhile the British and Prussian armies were advancing against Paris with all speed. Their leaders had agreed that the enemy must not be allowed time to rally. On their approach, the wrecks of Napoleon’s army at Laon, and Grouchy’s corps also, retired into Paris. On June 29 the heads of the Prussian columns appeared on the heights to the north of the capital; Wellington’s army was about a day further off, but within good supporting distance. The Provisional Government sent messenger after messenger to the Allies, requesting them to grant an armistice and stay their advance, now that Napoleon had abdicated. Blucher and Wellington wisely refused; there was no knowing what might happen if the enemy were allowed to rally, and to bring up reserves from the south. Napoleon, from his retreat at Malmaison, was already offering to take command of the army in Paris; and, though this was the last thing that Fouche and his colleagues desired, they were well aware that many regiments would have gone over to their old master if he had invited them to follow him against the Allies. The four days, June 25-29, which Napoleon spent at Malmaison were full of possibilities of danger. The Provisional Government, however, at last succeeded in inducing him to depart; had he stayed a day longer, they would have had either to arrest him or to suffer him to fall into the hands of the Prussians. Blucher had sent off a flying column with orders to seize him, dead or alive, and had expressed his intention of shooting him offhand, as an outlaw, if he were captured. The Prussian cavalry reached Malmaison only a few hours after Napoleon had driven off on the road to the south. His last idea had been to quit Europe and betake himself to the United States; the Provisional Government had eagerly fallen in with the idea, and promised him the use of two frigates then lying at Rochefort. On June 29, therefore, Napoleon disappeared; and several days passed before the Allies ascer­tained his whereabouts. It was only discovered on July 10, when he sent a message to Captain Maitland, commanding the blockading squadron off Rochefort, in which he asked whether he would be allowed to put to sea and sail for America.

Meanwhile, after Napoleon’s departure from Malmaison, the Provi­sional Government was left face to face with Wellington and Blucher; and no suspension of hostilities had yet been arranged. Indeed, there was sharp fighting in front of Paris on July 1. The allied generals, after reconnoitring the strong line of fortifications along the northern front of the city, had determined to cross the Seine, with the object of presenting themselves before its undefended southern side. The brigade of cavalry which formed Blucher’s advance-guard was routed near Versailles by a superior force of French horse; but this did not prevent the Prince from taking up his position on the heights which command Paris on the south. At the same time Wellington occupied positions observing the northern front of the city.

The Provisional Government had now to make its choice whether it would fight or capitulate. There were some 70,000 men of the regular troops within the city, besides the National Guards. Blucher’s and Wellington’s armies united did not much exceed 120,000 sabres and bayonets. But the British and Prussians were only the van of the advancing hosts; it was known in Paris that the Austrians had crossed the eastern frontier on June 23, had beaten Rapp and his small army of the Rhine on June 28, and had shut him up in Strassburg. Their columns were already advancing across Lorraine unopposed. At the same time, the Austro-Sardinian army of Italy had crossed the Alps and attacked Suchet, who, on hearing the news of Waterloo, asked for and obtained an armistice (June 28). If there had been any great national cause to defend, if any appeal to loyalty could have been made, it might have been worth while to fight. But no one knew whether the Chambers and the Provisional Government intended to acknowledge Napoleon II, to proclaim a Republic, to recall Louis XVIII, or to choose some new ruler—for example, the Duke of Orleans. The only persons who knew their own mind were Fouche and a few others, who had determined that the best thing for France and for themselves was to make a prompt submission to Louis XVIII. Further resistance would be useless; it would only irritate the Allies, and lead to the dismember­ment of the realm. It was by arguments of this kind that Fouche won over Davout, who combined the functions of Minister of War and commander of the army in Paris, to face the unpalatable prospect of concluding a capitulation and admitting the King. The two acts must be done simultaneously; for, if the city surrendered before the King was recognised, it would be treated as a conquered place. Blucher was for some time inclined to press matters to extremity, and to offer the Provisional Government nothing save the alternatives of unconditional surrender and a storm; but he was induced by Wellington to accept a capitulation. The French army was to retire beyond the Loire; the allied troops were to enter the city, but to respect all private and public property, except military stores and the works of art which Napoleon had plundered from Italy, Germany, and Spain. The allied generals undertook to make no attempt to arrest or punish any French subject for having borne arms under Napoleon (July 3).

Fouche and Davout had considerable difficulty in inducing the army and the Chambers to accept these terms. But all the military authorities agreed that Paris was indefensible on the southern side, and that the army was too disorganised to make a successful resistance. In face of such statements it was necessary to yield ; and on July 5—6 the French troops marched for the Loire. On July 7 the Allies made a triumphal entry; and on the 8th Louis XVIII returned to the Tuileries. Fouche and Davout had already settled with him the terms on which he was to be received. As soon as the army had left Paris, the Provisional Government recognised Louis as King, and the Chambers dissolved themselves. New Houses, duly summoned by royal writ, were to meet within two months. They actually commenced their session before August was out, and showed themselves “more royalist than the King.

 

CHAPTER XXI.

THE CONGRESS OF VIENNA II.