CYCLOPÆDIA OF THE BATTLES OF THE WORLD. (continued 10)

TEXEL, BATTLES OF THE.—The vicinity of the Texel has been the scene of some remarkable engagements, among others a battle of three days was fought here, between the English, under Blake and Monk, and the Dutch, under Van Tromp and DeRuyter, when the Dutch were signally defeated and Van Tromp killed, 1653. Again Ruyter was defeated here, August 11th, 1673. The Dutch fleet gloriously vanquished by Lord Duncan, October 11th, 1797. Twelve ships of war and thirteen Indiamen of the Dutch surrendered to Admiral Mitchell, who took them without firing a shot, August 28th, 1799.

THERMOPYLÆ, BATTLE OF.—Leonidas, at the head of 300 Spartans at this defile withstood the whole army of the Persians, until of the 300 heroes who surrounded him, all were slain but one man; 20,000 Persians perished by the hands of the Spartans, August 7th, 480 B.C. This battle was one of the most celebrated events in the annals of Greece, and effectually, at last, gave a check to the invading Persian army. The following is from Rollin’s Ancient History.

[4]“Thermopylæ is a strait or narrow pass of mount Œta, between Thessaly and Phocis, but 25 feet broad, which therefore might be defended by a small number of forces, and which was the only way through which the Persian land army could enter Achaia, and advance to besiege Athens. This was the place where the Grecian army thought fit to wait for the enemy: the person who commanded it was Leonidas, one of the two kings of Sparta.

[5]Xerxes in the meantime was upon his march: he had given orders for his fleet to follow him along the coast, and to regulate their motions according to those of the land army. Wherever he came, he found provisions and refreshments prepared beforehand, pursuant to the orders he had sent; and every city he arrived at gave him a magnificent entertainment, which cost immense sums of money. The vast expense of those treats gave occasion to a witty saying of a certain citizen of Abdera in Thrace, who, when the king was gone, said, they ought to thank the gods, that he ate but one meal a-day.

[6]In the same country of Thrace, there was a prince who showed an extraordinary greatness of soul on this occasion: it was the king of the Bisaltes. Whilst all the other princes ran into servitude, and basely submitted to Xerxes, he bravely refused to receive his yoke, or to obey him. Not being in a condition to resist him with open force, he retired to the top of the mountain Rhodope, into an inaccessible place, and forbade all his sons, who were six in number, to carry arms against Greece. But they, either out of fear of Xerxes, or out of a curiosity to see so important a war, followed the Persians, in contradiction to their father’s injunction. On their return home, their father, to punish so direct a disobedience, condemned all his sons to have their eyes put out. Xerxes continued his march through Thrace, Macedonia, and Thessaly, every thing giving way before him till he came to the Strait of Thermopylæ.

[7]One cannot see, without the utmost astonishment, with what an handful of troops the Grecians opposed the innumerable army of Xerxes. We find a particular account of their number in Pausanias. All their forces joined together, amounted only to 11,200 men, of which number 4000 only were employed at Thermopylæ to defend the pass. But these soldiers, adds the historian, were all determined to a man either to conquer or die. And what is it that an army of such resolution is not able to effect?

[8]When Xerxes advanced near the Straits of Thermopylæ, he was strangely surprised to find that they were prepared to dispute his passage. He had always flattered himself, that on the first hearing of his arrival, the Grecians would betake themselves to flight: nor could he ever be persuaded to believe, what Demaratus had told him from the beginning of his project, that at the first pass he came to, he would find his whole army stopped by an handful of men. He sent out a spy before him to take a view of the enemy. The spy brought him word, that he found the Lacedæmonians out of their intrenchments, and that they were diverting themselves with military exercises, and combing their hair: this was the Spartan manner of preparing themselves for battle.

Xerxes, still entertaining some hopes of their flight, waited four days on purpose to give them time to retreat;[9] and in this interval of time he used his utmost endeavours to gain Leonidas, by making him magnificent promises, and assuring him, that he would make him master of all Greece if he would come over to his party. Leonidas rejected his proposal with scorn and indignation. Xerxes, having afterwards written to him to deliver up his arms, Leonidas, in a style and spirit truly laconical, answered him in these words,[10] “Come and take them.” Nothing remained but to prepare themselves to engage the Lacedæmonians. Xerxes first commanded his Median forces to march against them, with orders to take them all alive, and bring them to him. These Medes were not able to stand the charge of the Grecians; and being shamefully put to flight, they showed, says Herodotus,[11] that Xerxes had a great many men, and but few soldiers. The next that were sent to face the Spartans, were those Persians called the Immortal Band, which consisted of 10,000 men, and were the best troops in the whole army. But these had no better success than the former.

Xerxes, out of all hopes of being able to force his way through troops so determined to conquer or die, was extremely perplexed, and could not tell what resolution to take, when an inhabitant of the country came to him, and discovered a secret[12] path to the top of an eminence, which overlooked and commanded the Spartan forces. He quickly dispatched a detachment thither; which, marching all night, arrived there at the break of day, and possessed themselves of that advantageous post.

The Greeks were soon apprized of this misfortune; and Leonidas, seeing that it was now impossible to repulse the enemy, obliged the rest of the allies to retire, but staid himself with his 300 Lacedæmonians, all resolved to die with their leader; who being told by the oracle, that either Lacedæmon or her king must necessarily perish, determined, without the least difficulty or hesitation, to sacrifice himself for his country. The Spartans lost all hopes either of conquering or escaping, and looked upon Thermopylæ as their burying-place. The king, exhorting his men to take some nourishment, and telling them at the same time, that they should sup together with Pluto, they set up a shout of joy as if they had been invited to a banquet, and full of ardour advanced with their king to battle. The shock was exceedingly violent and bloody. Leonidas himself was one of the first that fell. The endeavours of the Lacedæmonians to defend his dead body were incredible. At length, not vanquished, but oppressed by numbers, they all fell except one man, who escaped to Sparta, where he was treated as a coward and traitor to his country, and nobody would keep company or converse with him. But soon afterwards he made a glorious amend for his fault at the battle of Platæa, where he distinguished himself in an extraordinary manner. Xerxes, enraged to the last degree against Leonidas for daring to make head against him, caused his dead body to be hung up on a gallows, and made his intended dishonour of his enemy his own immortal shame.”

THRASYMENE, BATTLE OF.—Fought, B.C. 217.—On a circular range of hills, near the lake, Hannibal disposed his army, and Flaminius, the Roman General, took his station in the valley beneath. A mist rising from the lake completely concealed the Carthaginians from the Romans, while it left the view of the former unimpeded. The fortune of the day was such as might have been expected—15,000 soldiers fell with Flaminius in the valley, and 6000 more were obliged to surrender themselves prisoners of war. The following is from Rollin’s Ancient History:

[13]“Hannibal being thus got, almost unexpectedly, out of this dangerous place, refreshed his troops, and then marched and pitched his camp between Arretium and Fesulæ, in the richest and most fruitful part of Tuscany. His first endeavours were to discover the genius and character of Flaminius, in order that he might take advantage of his foible, which, according to Polybius, ought to be the chief study of a general. He was told that Flaminius was greatly conceited of his own merit, bold, enterprising, rash, and fond of glory. To plunge him the deeper into these excesses, to which he was naturally prone,[14] he inflamed his impetuous spirit, by laying waste and burning the whole country, in his sight.

Flaminius was not of a temper to continue inactive in his camp, though Hannibal should have lain still. But when he saw the territories of his allies laid waste before his eyes, he thought it would reflect dishonour upon him, should he suffer Hannibal to ransack Italy without control, and even advance to the very walls of Rome, without meeting any resistance.

He rejected with scorn the prudent counsels of those who advised him to wait the arrival of his colleague, and to be satisfied for the present with putting a stop to the devastation of the enemy.

In the meantime, Hannibal was still advancing towards Rome, having Cortona on the left hand, and the lake Thrasymene on the right. When he saw that the consul followed close after him, with the design to give him battle, by stopping him in his march; having observed that the ground was convenient for that purpose, he also began to prepare himself for the battle. The lake Thrasymene and the mountains of Cortona form a very narrow defile, which leads into a large valley, lined on both sides, with hills of a considerable height, and closed at the outlet by a steep hill of difficult access. On this hill, Hannibal, after having crossed the valley, came and encamped with the main body of his army; posting his light-armed infantry in ambuscade upon the hills on the right, and part of his cavalry behind those on the left, as far almost as the entrance of the defile, through which Flaminius was obliged to pass. Accordingly, this general, who followed him very eagerly, with the resolution to fight him, being come to the defile near the lake, was forced to halt, because night was coming on; but he entered it the next morning at day-break.

Hannibal having permitted him to advance, with all his forces, above half way through the valley, and seeing the Roman vanguard pretty near him, he sounded the charge, and commanded the troops to come out of their ambuscade, in order that he might attack the enemy, at the same time, from all quarters. The reader may guess at the consternation with which the Romans were seized.

They were not yet drawn up in order of battle, neither had they got their arms in readiness, when they found themselves attacked in front, in rear, and in flank. In a moment all the ranks were put into disorder. Flaminius, alone undaunted in so universal a surprise, animates his soldiers both with his hand and voice; and exhorts them to cut themselves a passage with their swords through the midst of the enemy. But the tumult which reigned everywhere, the dreadful shouts of the enemy, and a fog that was risen, prevented his being seen or heard. However, when the Romans saw themselves surrounded on all sides, either by the enemy or the lake, and the impossibility of saving their lives by flight, it roused their courage, and both parties began the fight with astonishing animosity. Their fury was so great, that not a soldier in either army perceived an earthquake, which happened in that country, and buried whole cities in ruins. In this confusion, Flaminius being slain by one of the Insubrian Gauls, the Romans began to give ground, and at last quite ran away. Great numbers, to save themselves, leaped into the lake, whilst others, climbing over the mountains, fell into the enemy’s hands whom they strove to avoid. Six thousand only cut their way through the conquerors, and retreated to a place of safety; but the next day they were taken prisoners. In this battle 15,000 Romans were killed, and about 10,000 escaped to Rome, by different roads. Hannibal sent back the Latins, who were allies of the Romans, into their own country, without demanding the least ransom. He commanded search to be made for the body of Flaminius, in order to give it burial, but it could not be found. He afterwards put his troops into quarters of refreshment, and solemnized the funerals of 30 of his chief officers, who were killed in the battle. He lost in all but 1500 men, most of whom were Gauls.

Immediately after, Hannibal dispatched a courier to Carthage, with the news of his good success in Italy. This caused the greatest joy for the present, raised the most promising hopes with regard to the future, and revived the courage of all the citizens. They now prepared with incredible ardour to send into Italy and Spain all necessary succours.

Rome, on the contrary, was filled with universal grief and alarm, as soon as the prætor had pronounced from the rostra the following words, “we have lost a great battle.” The senate, studious of nothing but the public welfare, thought that in so great a calamity and so imminent a danger recourse must be had to extraordinary remedies. They therefore appointed Quintus Fabius, dictator, a person as conspicuous for his wisdom as his birth. It was the custom at Rome that the moment a dictator was nominated, all authority ceased, that of the tribunes of the people excepted. M. Minucius was appointed his general of horse.”

TILSIT, PEACE OF.—Between France and Russia, when Napoleon restored to the Russian Monarch one-half his dominions, and Russia recognized the confederation of the Rhine and the elevation of his three brothers, Joseph, Louis, and Jerome to the thrones of Naples, Holland, and Westphalia. Signed, July 7th, 1807.

TINCHEBRAY, BATTLE, OF.—Fought, 1106, between Henry I of England, and Robert, Duke of Normandy. The two brothers met at this place, and Robert was defeated, and all Normandy was taken by Henry,—Robert himself being thrown into a dungeon, and kept for more than twenty-five years a prisoner.

TOPLITZ, BATTLES OF.—The first was fought between the Austrians and Prussians, the latter defeated, in 1762. Another battle August 30th, 1813. Treaty of ditto, September 9th, 1813. Second treaty of ditto, October 3rd, 1813.

TORGAN, BATTLE OF.—Between Frederick II of Prussia and the Austrians, in which the former obtained a complete victory. The Austrian General, Count Daun, was wounded, November 11th, 1760.

TOULON, NAVAL BATTLES OF.—A memorable battle off this port between the English, French and Spanish fleets, February 10th, 1744. The English lost the victory through a misunderstanding of their Admirals. Another battle fought here, when Lord Hood took six ships of the French fleet, and sunk one of very large force, and several others, June 4th, 1794. While the two fleets were engaged, a large fleet of Indiamen got safely into Brest harbour. As on this fleet depended the means of the French carrying on the war, they claim the victory, notwithstanding their loss in ships and men.

TOULOUSE, BATTLE OF.—This was the final battle of the Peninsular war—one of the most bloody that was fought between the French and English. The French were commanded by Soult, and the English by Wellington. Wellington forced the French to retreat after twelve hours of hard fighting, the battle raging from seven in the morning till seven at night. The English lost between 4000 and 5000 men, that of the French exceeded 10,000. Fought, April 10th, 1814.

TOURNAMENTS, OR TILTS.—Every one has read of these ancient modes of duelling. If not, let them read Sir Walter Scott’s “Ivanhoe,” &c. The Arabs are very expert in their management of horses at these tilts. The following will describe the whole:—

“The tournament field is oblong, and bordered by rows of spectators, sitting cross-legged round the open space. The best riders of the tribe, mounted on the most active horses, are then introduced into the arena, the men being clothed with as much splendour as their means will permit them, while the chargers are covered with large silk housings of different colours, reaching to the ground, and resembling those of ancient knights, as represented in Froissart. Some of the Arabs then commence making their horses dance to the sound of drums and trumpets, whilst men on foot occasionally rush forward and discharge their muskets close to the horses’ ears. Others dash forward at full speed along the line of seated spectators, as close to their feet as they possibly can, without actually trampling upon them: and every now and then suddenly throwing their horses on their haunches, spin them round on their hind legs, and resume in the opposite direction their wild career. It is a nervous sight to behold; for you momentarily expect to see some person or child crushed beneath the horses’ hoofs; but no accident ever happens, and men, women, and children, maintain their seats with the greatest calmness and feeling of security, saluting any well-executed point of horsemanship with loud and exulting shouts of approbation, whilst the women accompany them with the usual but indescribable cries of the quick-repeated lu-lu-lu-lu; in return for which they are covered with clouds of sand and dust, which the impetuous coursers throw up behind them. Three or four others dashing their sharp stirrups into the flanks of their impatient steeds, rush madly along the length of the arena, shouting forth their tekbir, or war-cries, and whirling round their heads the long and silver-adorned Arab guns, which they discharge at the spectators when they have reached the farthest extremity of the lists. Others engage with swords soldiers on foot, galloping round their adversaries in incredibly small circles, twisting their horses suddenly round, and then circling to the other hand; and I know not which most to admire, the activity and suppleness of the rider or of his horse. Others, whilst at full speed, will lean over, and without in the least reducing their pace, pick up from the ground a piastre or any other equally small object, thrown down for the purpose. These sports form, on the whole, one of the gayest and most animating scenes I ever beheld, increased as it is by the waving of many silken sanjaks of the brightest colours, by the music, the report of fire-arms, the war-cries of the performers, and the shouts of the numerous spectators.”

TOURNAY.—Taken by the Allies in 1709; taken again by the French, November 11th, 1792. A battle was fought here by the Anglo-Austrian army, against the French, in which they were defeated, May 8th, 1793. Another battle was fought between the English and French, when the French were repulsed, losing 200 men and three field pieces. Fought, May 6th, 1794.

TOURS, BATTLE OF.—One of the glorious victories of Charles Martel, and that which most established his fame; gained over the Saracens, near Tours, and from which he acquired the name of Martel or the Hammer. Some historians declare that but for this victory, all Europe, us well as Asia and Africa, would otherwise have become Mahommedan. Fought, October 10th, 732.

TOWTON, BATTLE OF.—This great battle is supposed to be the most fierce and bloody that ever happened in any domestic war. Fought, March 29th, 1461, between the houses of York and Lancaster, to the latter of which it proved fatal; more than 37,000 men of the Lancastrians fell. Edward IV of York issued orders to give no quarter, and a merciless massacre ensued.

TRAFALGAR, BATTLE OF.—The most glorious and splendid naval engagement ever achieved by the British navy. The French had 18 and the Spaniards 15 ships of the line; the British had 27 ships. Several of the enemies’ Admirals were taken prisoners. The following is Southey’s fine description of the death of England’s greatest naval hero. He says:—

“Nelson having despatched his business at Portsmouth, endeavoured to elude the populace by taking a by-way to the beach, but a crowd collected in his train, pressing forward to obtain a sight of his face: many were in tears, and many knelt down before him, and blessed him as he passed. England has had many heroes, but never one who so entirely possessed the love of his fellow-countrymen as Nelson. All men knew that his heart was as humane as it was fearless; that there was not in his nature the slightest alloy of selfishness or cupidity; but that, with perfect and entire devotion, he served his country with all his heart, and with all his soul, and with all his strength; and therefore they loved him as truly and as fervently as he loved England. They pressed upon the parapet to gaze after him when his barge pushed off, and he returned their cheers by waving his hat. The sentinels who endeavoured to prevent them from trespassing upon this ground, were wedged among the crowd; and an officer who, not very prudently upon such an occasion, ordered them to drive the people down with their bayonets, was compelled speedily to retreat; for the people would not be debarred from gazing till the last moment upon the hero—the darling hero of England!

It had been part of Nelson’s prayer, that the British fleet might be distinguished by humanity in the victory which he expected. Setting an example himself, he twice give orders to cease firing on the Redoubtable, supposing that she had struck, because her guns was silent; for, as she carried no flag, there was no means of instantly ascertaining the fact. From this ship, which he had thus twice spared, he received his death. A ball fired from her mizen-top, which, in the then situation of the two vessels, was not more than 15 yards from that part of the deck where he was standing, struck the epaulette on his left shoulder, about a quarter after one, just in the heat of action. He fell upon his face, on the spot which was covered with his poor secretary’s blood. Hardy, who was a few steps from him, turning round, saw three men raising him up. “They have done for me at last, Hardy,” said he. “I hope not,” cried Hardy. “Yes” he replied, “my back-bone is shot through.” Yet even now, not for a moment losing his presence of mind, he observed, as they were carrying him down the ladder, that the tiller ropes, which had been shot away, were not yet replaced, and ordered that new ones should be rove immediately: then, that he might not be seen by the crew, he took out his handkerchief, and covered his face and his stars. Had he but concealed these badges of honour from the enemy, England, perhaps, would not have had cause to receive with sorrow the news of the battle of Trafalgar. The cockpit was crowded with wounded and dying men, over whose bodies he was with some difficulty conveyed, and laid upon a pallet in the midshipmen’s berth. It was soon perceived, upon examination, that the wound was mortal. This, however, was concealed from all except Captain Hardy, the Chaplain, and the medical attendants. He himself being certain, from the sensation in his back, and the gush of blood he felt momently within his breast, that no human care could avail him, insisted that the surgeon should leave him, and attend to those to whom he might be useful; “for,” said he, “you can do nothing for me.” All that could be done was to fan him with paper, and frequently to give him lemonade to alleviate his intense thirst. He was in great pain, and expressed much anxiety for the event of the action, which now began to declare itself. As often as a ship struck, the crew of the Victory hurrahed, and at every hurrah, visible expression of joy gleamed in the eyes, and marked the countenance of the dying hero. But he became impatient to see Hardy; and as that officer, though often sent for, could not leave the deck, Nelson feared that some fatal cause prevented him, and repeatedly cried, “Will no one bring Hardy to me? he must be killed! he is surely dead!” An hour and ten minutes elapsed from the time when Nelson received his wound, before Hardy could come to him. They shook hands in silence, Hardy in vain struggling to suppress the feelings of that most painful and yet sublime moment. “Well, Hardy,” said Nelson, “how goes the day with us?” “Very well,” replied Hardy; “ten ships have struck, but five of the van have tacked, and show an intention to bear down upon the Victory. I have called two or three of our fresh ships round, and have no doubt of giving them a drubbing.” “I hope,” said Nelson, “none of our ships have struck.” Hardy answered, “there was no fear of that.” Then, and not till then, Nelson spoke of himself. “I am a dead man, Hardy,” said he; “I am going fast; it will be all over with me soon. Come nearer to me. Let my dear Lady Hamilton have my hair, and all other things belonging to me.” Hardy observed, that he hoped Mr. Beatty could yet hold out some prospect of life. “Oh! no,” he replied; “it is impossible. My back is shot through. Beatty will tell you so.” Hardy then once more shook hands with him, and with a heart almost bursting, hastened upon deck.

By this time all feeling below the breast was gone, and Nelson, having made the surgeon ascertain this, said to him: “You know I am gone. I know it. I feel something rising in my breast,” putting his hand on his left side, “which tells me so.” And upon Beatty’s inquiring whether his pain was very great, he replied, “so great that he wished he was dead. Yet,” said he, in a lower voice, “one would like to live a little longer too!” And after a few minutes, in the same undertone, he added: “What would become of poor Lady Hamilton if she knew my situation!” Next to his country she occupied his thoughts. Captain Hardy, some fifty minutes after he had left the cockpit, returned, and again taking the hand of his dying friend and commander, congratulated him on having gained a complete victory. How many of the enemy were taken he did not know, as it was impossible to perceive them distinctly, but 14 or 15 at least. “That’s well,” cried Nelson, but “I bargained for 20.” And then, in a stronger voice, he said: “Anchor, Hardy, anchor.” Hardy, upon this, hinted that Admiral Collingwood would take upon himself the direction of affairs. “Not while I live, Hardy,” said the dying Nelson, ineffectually endeavouring to raise himself from the bed: “do you anchor.” His previous orders for preparing to anchor had shown how clearly he foresaw the necessity of this. Presently calling Hardy back, he said to him in a low voice, “Don’t throw me overboard;” and he desired that he might be buried by his parents, unless it should please the King to order otherwise. Then reverting to private feelings: “Take care of my dear Lady Hamilton, Hardy; take care of poor Lady Hamilton. Kiss me, Hardy,” said he. Hardy knelt down and kissed his cheek; and Nelson said, “Now I am satisfied. Thank God I have done my duty!” Hardy stood over him in silence for a moment or two, then knelt again and kissed his forehead “Who is that?” said Nelson; and being informed, he replied, “God bless you, Hardy.” And Hardy then left him for ever. Nelson now desired to be turned upon his right side, and said, “I wish I had not left the deck; for I shall soon be gone.” Death was, indeed, rapidly approaching. He said to the Chaplain, “Doctor, I have not been a great sinner;” and after a short pause, “Remember that I leave Lady Hamilton and my daughter Horatia as a legacy to my country.” His articulation now became difficult; but he was distinctly heard to say, “Thank God, I have done my duty!” These words he repeatedly pronounced, and they were the last words which he uttered. He expired at thirty minutes after four, three hours and a quarter after he had received his wound.”

TRAKTIR BRIDGE, BATTLE OF.—Fought during the Crimean campaign, between the French and Sardinian forces, and the Russians—

“The garrison of Sebastopol having failed, on the 2nd of August, in a desperate attempt to forces the Allied lines by the Woronzoff Road, remained inactive only in appearance. They were ready for a new Balaclava and a new Inkerman all in one, so far as the strategic movement is concerned. In August the Tchernaya is fordable at many points, well known, of course, to the enemy. On the 16th of that month they debouched from the Tchouliou Heights, and descended to the Tchernaya, in the neighbourhood of Traktir-bridge. Behind this bridge rise, at a little distance, the Fediukine hills, on which rested the rear of the French army, which now faced about. To their right were the Sardinians,—to theirs the Turks. Beyond the river, and under Tchouliou hills is a valley, along which swarmed the Russian masses, driving the outposts of the Sardinian Bersaglieri, or sharp-shooters. About 1500 Zouaves and Chasseurs guarded the bridge: they were attacked by 10,000 Russians, under General Read. For an hour the 1500 held the 10,000 beneath the storm of artillery which pound upon their dense columns from one English battery and from the Sardinian and French artillery. At last, the Russians swarmed over the fords, forced the bridge, and slowly pushed the brave Zouaves up the hill; but executed this movement painfully, out of breath, in disorder, and rent by ordnance. At the hill’s brow the main body of the French received in their openings comrades worthy of Leonidas, who, turning, and now backed by strong columns, charged bayonets down the declivity. Twice the enemy rallied, but in vain. The Sardinians and French made a final rush, and drove them with carnage upon their supports, who were thus disarrayed. The artillery reopened, and the battle was won. General Scarlett’s dragoons came up at this moment, but General Pelissier deemed pursuit unwise. The enemy retired on Mackenzie’s Farm. He left on the field a quantity of fascines, planks, beams, ladders, and sappers’ tools, destined to destroy the works of the besiegers. He left also 2500 dead; and 1620 of his wounded were that night in the ambulances of the French, who took, in addition, 500 prisoners. They themselves lost 180 killed, and 810 wounded—chiefly on and near the bridge. This great battle occurred the day succeeding the First Napoleon’s natal anniversary, and the fête-day of the French Empire. It was on that very morning that the Queen of England set out to pay the first Royal visit ever made by English Monarch to a Sovereign of that warlike dynasty. It seemed as if events both in the East and in the West were conspiring to raise to the highest point the glory of the Napoleon destinies at one and the same hour.”

TREBIA, BATTLE OF.—Fought between Hannibal and the Romans. Hannibal taking advantage of the well known impetuosity of the Romans, sent over at first a detachment of 1000 horse. These pretending defeat, hastily recrossed the river, followed by the main body of the Romans. By this means the defeat of the Romans was insured. Benumbed with wading up to their armpits in water, they became an easy prey to their enemies; 26,000 were either slain, or drowned in attempting to cross the river.

TRINCOMALEE.—Taken from the Dutch by the English in 1782. Retaken by the French same year; restored to the Dutch in 1783. Surrendered to the British, under Colonel Stewart, August 26th, 1795, and was confirmed by the peace of Amiens in 1802. Of a series of actions fought off Trincomalee, between Sir Edward Hughes and the French Admiral Suffrein, one was fought February 18th, 1782, the enemy having 11 ships and the British 9. On April 12th following, they had 18 to 11 ships, and on July 6th, same year, they had 15 to 12 ships. Yet, in every one of these battles, the French suffered severe defeats.

TRIPLE ALLIANCE.—This celebrated party alliance between the States General and England against France, was for the protection of the Netherlands (Holland and Belgium). Sweden afterwards joined the alliance, January 28th, 1668.

TRIUMPH.—On the day appointed, the General, crowned with laurels, pronounced an oration to the soldiers and surrounding multitude, relating his military achievements; then the march began with a long procession, in which were carried inscriptions, containing the names of the nations, provinces, or cities, he had conquered; the priests assisted, leading the beasts used for sacrifice. The conqueror, in an ivory car, richly ornamented, closed the procession. He was surrounded by his friends and relations, bearing branches of laurel; the procession stopped at the Capitol, where they sacrificed to Jupiter, and deposited part of the spoils. The lustre of the Roman conquests was often tarnished by their inhumanity to the conquered; their prisoners, if of high rank, were only reserved to suffer superior mortifications; the captive Monarchs and Generals were bound in chains, their heads closely shaven (a mark of peculiar degradation), and they were thus presented a sad spectacle to the gazing multitude.

TROYES.—Celebrated for the treaty, May 24th, 1420. The French were driven from Troyes by the Allied armies, February 7th, 1814. Retaken by Napoleon, February 28th, and finally occupied by the Allies, March 4th, same year.

TYRE.—A celebrated city in Asia Minor. Besieged by Nebuchadnezzar, B.C. 572, and the city demolished a year after its rebuilding. Taken by Alexander the Great, who spent seven months in the siege, August 20th, 332 B.C. Thousands of the inhabitants were crucified by Alexander, along the shore, for the bravery with which they had defended their city.

U.

ULM, BATTLE OF.—A fierce and bloody engagement between the French and Austrians, the latter commanded by General Mack, and the French by Marshal Ney. The French gained a complete victory, the Austrians losing 36,000 men as prisoners, the flower of their army, and an immense number of killed and wounded. Fought, October 17th, and 19th, 1805.

UNIFORMS.—First used in France by Louis XIV in 1668, adopted in England not long after.

USHANT, NAVAL BATTLE OF.—Between the British and French fleets, when after an indecisive action of three hours, under cover of the night, the latter withdrew in a deceptive manner to the harbour of Brest. Keppel commanded the English fleet and the Count d’Ovillier the French. A dispute occurring between the English Admiral and the second in command caused the victory to be not so complete as it would otherwise have been. Fought, July 27th, 1778.

UTRECHT, TREATY OF.—The Union of the seven Provinces began here A.D. 1579. Celebrated treaty, April 11th, 1713. Surrendered to the Prussians, May 9th, 1787. Possessed by the French, January 17th, 1795.

V.

VALENCIA, BATTLE OF.—Taken by the Earl of Peterborough in 1705, and soon again lost. Resisted the attempts of many, but was taken from the Spaniards by the French, under Suchet, January 9th, 1812; all the garrison, 16,000 men, and immense stores, surrendered.

VALENCIENNES, SIEGE OF.—Besieged from May 23rd to July 14th, when the French garrison surrendered to the Duke of York, 1793. Retaken by the French, on capitulation; the garrison and 1100 emigrants made prisoners, with immense stores, viz. 200 cannon, 1,000,000 pounds of gunpowder, 8,000,000 florins in specie, 6,000,000 of livres, 1000 head of cattle, &c., on August 30th, 1794.

VALUE OF PRINCES.—£400,000 was the price paid to the Scots for delivering up to the English Charles I.

Margaret of Anjou was ransomed for £12,500.

£1,000 offered by Parliament for the head of Charles II.

£30,000 for that of the Pretender.

Richard I was ransomed for the large sum of £100,000 or 150,000 marks; he had before been sold by the Duke Leopold of Austria, to the Emperor Henry IV, for £60,000.

King John, of France, was to be redeemed by his subjects for the enormous sum of 3,000,000 crowns, but they could not raise the amount.

VARNA, BATTLE OF.—The Emperor Nicholas of Russia arrived before Varna, the head-quarters of his army, then besieging the place, August 5th, 1828. The Turks made a vigorous attack on the besiegers August 7th; another on the 21st, but they were repulsed; surrendered to the Russians, October 1st, 1828. Famous as the point of rendezvous of the Allied army, preparatory to the Crimean war. The cholera made dreadful devastation in both the English and French armies; then a great fire nearly destroyed the town, but purified the air; and the news of the Crimean invasion expedition dispelled the gloom and melancholy which pervaded, to a very great degree, our troops.

VIENNA.—Besieged by the Turks, under Solyman the Magnificent, with an army of 300,000 men, but forced to raise the siege having lost 70,000 soldiers. Again besieged in 1683, and the siege raised by the celebrated John Sobieski, King of Poland, who totally routed the Turkish army of 100,000 men. Taken by the French, November 14th, 1805, and afterwards retaken and taken for some time.

VILLA FRANCA, BATTLE OF.—Engagement here between the British cavalry, under Cotton, and the French cavalry, under Soult. The French were defeated, April 10th, 1812. When Napoleon heard of the result he reproached Soult the first time in his life.

VIMEIRA, BATTLE OF.—Between the British, under Wellington, and the whole of the French and Spanish forces, in Portugal, under Marshal Guinot, whom the British signally defeated, August 21st, 1808. The enemy’s force were 14,000 men, of whom 1600 were cavalry. They attacked the English at Vimeira early in the morning. The principal assault was on the English centre and left, with the view, according to a favourite French expression of “driving the English into the sea,” which was close in their rear. The attack was made with great bravery but as bravely repulsed. It was repeated by Kellerman, at the head of the French reserve, which was also signally repulsed, and the French being charged with the British bayonet, withdrew on all sides in confusion, leaving many prisoners, a General Officer, and 14 cannon, with ammunition, in the hands of the British. French loss, killed and wounded, 1800. English 720; only one-half of the British force was actually engaged.

VINEGAR HILL, BATTLE OF.—Between the British troops and the Irish insurgents, in 1798. The rebels suffered a severe defeat, and much blood shed on both sides. June 12th, 1798.

VITTORIA, BATTLE OF.—Fought, June 21st, 1813, between the French and English. The following is a graphic account of this great victory:

“The splendid achievements of the campaign of 1812 produced their natural results. Even the torpid obstinacy of Castilian pride was at last overcome, and by a decree of the Cortes of September 22nd, 1812, the great English General was invested with the supreme command of the Spanish armies. He repaired to Cadiz on the 24th of December, and on the 30th he was received by the Cortes in full assembly. The news of Napoleon’s overthrow in Russia had just arrived, and all hearts seemed to expand with hope of the speedy expulsion of his troops from Spain.

England herself also now began to put forth efforts commensurate with the crisis. At the opening of the year 1813 her land forces consisted of 228,000 men, besides 28,000 in India, 95,000 militia at home, and 32,000 foreign troops in the British service. And, besides these, she had 200,000 native troops in India, a local militia of 300,000, and a yeomanry cavalry of 68,000, forming a grand total of 949,000 men in arms; and her expenditure in the year amounted to £118,000,000 sterling.

Thus supported, her great Commander, of whom it may be questioned if his equal in all respects ever stood upon a field of battle, looked forward with reasonable expectation to a coming harvest; to a campaign in which, after four years’ toils and sufferings, the grand object of the final expulsion of the French from Spain might be anticipated. And assuredly the means he took to gain this end in the simplest and completest manner, were marked by the most consummate skill and wisdom.

To be nearer to his supplies, and to relieve the wasted provinces of Spain, Wellington had withdrawn his army into cantonments on the Coa and the Agueda, that is, in Leon and in Beira, or Northern Portugal. All the Lusitanian kingdom had long been free from the French, and the campaign of 1812 had compelled them to abandon all Andalusia Murcia, Granada, Asturias and Estramadura. The French army now occupied only central and eastern Spain, the bulk of the troops being quartered in New and Old Castile.

Wellington’s chief attention was naturally devoted, during the winter, to the task of reorganizing his forces for the final struggle of the opening year. His own English army was the only force he had which was at all in a condition to march against the enemy. Of the Spanish troops he found it necessary to give the Spanish Minister of War, in March 1813, the following description:—“There is not a single battalion or squadron in the Spanish armies in a condition to take the field; there is not in the whole kingdom of Spain a depôt of provisions for the support of a single battalion for one day; there is not a shilling of money in any military chest. To move them forward at any point now, against even inconsiderable bodies of the enemy, would be to insure their certain destruction.”

But by unceasing exertions these evils were, in a measure, overcome: and Wellington found himself, in the month of May, 1813, for the first time in a state approaching to an equality with the French. Their force, which in former years had often amounted to nearly 400,000 men, was now reduced to 239,000 of which about 197,000 were present with the eagles. Meanwhile Wellington’s nominal force now amounted to 200,000, and although only about one-half of this number were fit to take the field, the remainder was still of use in maintaining the communications, guarding convoys, and cutting off the foraging parties of the enemy. His principal army of English and Portuguese mustered about 75,000 men, of whom about 44,000 were English. The efficiency of the Portuguese troops was advanced in a surprising manner; reinforcements, especially of cavalry, had arrived from England; and the Anglo-Portuguese troops, conscious of an improved organization, were more confident than ever; while the French, hearing of the calamities of their brethren in Russia, were proportionably depressed. Even the Spaniards had, in some numbers, been brought into better condition:—Wellington had kept them fed and clothed during the winter, and had now several efficient corps of native troops, ready to act in conjunction with his own army. Hence, on the 22nd of May the great English General began his march, and when he crossed the stream which divides Portugal from Spain, he rose in his stirrups, and waving his hand, exclaimed, “Good bye to Portugal!”

The military skill and talent of a commander is never more conspicuously seen than in those manœuvres by which an enemy is defeated without a battle. Such manœuvres often resemble the skill and power with which an able and fearless horseman, even while on the ground, will control a powerful courser, forcing him backwards by a small leverage upon his mouth. In the present instance the French still had a considerable army and able Generals, and they occupied the centre of Spain, defending the capital, and ready to fight, if needful, a succession of battles before they would relinquish their prey. But their more able antagonist forced them to retreat, step by step, without fighting, until their last and only stand was made at Vittoria, almost in sight of France; and then delivering his attack, he utterly routed them, and chased them over the Pyrenees. On the 22nd of May, as we have said, the English army marched out of Portugal; on the 21st of June it fought and gained the battle of Vittoria; and before the 1st of July the shattered remains of the French army, with their King Joseph at their head, had fled over the Pyrenees. Little more than a single month had sufficed to destroy, uproot, and utterly abolish the French dominion in Spain, and that at a time, too, when there were still 197,000 French soldiers in the field, under many able Commanders.

A brave general of the ordinary kind would have marched in quest of the French, lying in front of Madrid; would have defeated them, and taken the capital. All the smaller bodies of French in Spain would then have been called round the King; and in July a second battle would have been fought in Arragon, or in front of Burgos. One more victory,—a third, supposing the English to have been always victorious, might have sent the French out of Spain; but any mistake or mishap might have prevented this. But Wellington, by masterly tactics, always threatening to turn the enemy’s right wing and to get upon his communications, backed his foe as a man backs a horse, till he could bring the opposing army into a position fit for his purpose; and then, delivering at once a knock-down blow, he drove the whole mass, king and army, in four-and-twenty hours, out of Spain.

King Joseph had reckoned, in the spring, upon a direct attack by the great road of Madrid; but when it would come, or where it would fall, he could not divine, for Wellington kept him constantly in doubt, by a variety of feigned movements.

At last, towards the end of May, he found that Wellington, sending 40,000 men under Graham through the difficult passes of the Tras-os-Montes, and moving himself a week after on the Esla, had carried his whole army, by the 4th of June, over the Douro, and was now in full march for Valladolid. If he should gain that place, Joseph well knew that his communications would be cut off, and his whole army taken, to use Napoleon’s phrase, “flagrante delicto.” Hastily, therefore, Madrid was abandoned, the whole army put in retreat; and now Joseph would make his stand at Burgos.

Thus 100 miles of Spanish ground had been cleared of the French without firing a shot. And now, Joseph would fight for his kingdom in this, his second position. But his Generals examined the country, and disliked the prospect. Meanwhile Wellington pushed on, conducting his operations continually on the same principle,—pushing forwards his left wing, and out-flanking and turning the French right. Again perplexed, Joseph now abandoned his second purpose, as he had abandoned his first. Burgos must be given up, and the retreat must be continued on Vittoria. Into Vittoria there was poured, therefore, the artillery depôts of Madrid, of Valladolid, and of Burgos, and the baggage and stores of several armies; with the King’s valuables, the archives, and papers of the State and of the army, and a large amount of treasure.

Vittoria is only 26 miles from Irun, on the French frontier. Here, therefore, had been driven together, like a flock of sheep, the intruders and plunderers of Spain, and one vigorous assault only was needed to rid the land of them altogether. It was not long delayed.

It was about the 15th of June when King Joseph found his army assembled round Vittoria, reckoning, Napier tells us, from 60,000 to 70,000 men. Wellington had left his sixth division at Medina de Pomar, and therefore had 60,000 English and Portuguese, besides some Spanish troops. In the number and calibre of their guns the French had the advantage.

From the mountain-region through which the British army was marching, the way to Vittoria lay over many a rugged steep, and through many dangerous defiles; but no difficulty was allowed to stop their march. “Six days they toiled unceasingly; but on the seventh, swelled by a Spanish reinforcement, they burst like raging streams from every defile, and went foaming into the basin of Vittoria.”

The French army was drawn up round this basin, which is a small plain about 10 miles in length, by 8 in breadth, through which runs the river Zadora. As this battle-field was approached by various mountain-passes, Wellington resolved to enter it from three sides at once, forming three distinct combats. General Graham, with a corps of about 20,000 men, was to attack from the British left, and to pass the Zadora at Ariaga, near the city of Vittoria. Hill was to attack from the right with an equal force. Wellington stationed himself in the centre, with a rather larger force, which was to descend from the mountain ridges, to cross the Zadora by various roads, and to march straight upon Vittoria. In fact, the whole battle was merely an attack on a strong army hemmed in, by an army equally strong, and marching to the attack on three sides at the same moment.

At daybreak the English began to move; but the distance to Vittoria was several miles, and every step was to be contended for. Hill reached the village of Puebla about ten in the morning; pushed on, fighting hard, till he gained the village of Subijana de Alava, and so placed himself in communication with the English centre. Graham had to make a march of several miles to reach Ariaga, near Vittoria; but about one o’clock his attack began to tell. This was a serious one for the French; for, if successful, it would cut them off from the great road to Bayonne. King Joseph, finding both his flanks thus threatened, sent an order to the centre to retire. But the troops were fiercely engaged, and retreat was difficult. Meanwhile, however, three attacks of the English, right, left, and centre, were all succeeding; and step by step, the French were being pushed back upon Vittoria.

“At six o’clock,” says Napier, “the French reached the last defensible height in front of Vittoria. Behind them was the plain in which the city stood, and beyond the city were thousands of carriages and animals, and of men, women, and children, crowded together in all the madness of terror; and as the English shot went booming overhead, the vast crowd started and swerved with a convulsive movement, while a dull and horrid cry of distress arose; but there was no hope, no stay for army or multitude, it was the wreck of a nation!” Still the courage of the French soldiers was unquelled. Their artillery for a time kept the Allies in check, but suddenly the fourth English division, rushing forward, carried a hill on the left, and the heights were at once abandoned. Joseph finding the main road so completely blocked up by carriages that the artillery could not pass, indicated the road of Salvatierra as the line of retreat, and the army went off in a confused and yet compact body on that side, leaving Vittoria on its left. The British infantry followed hard, and the light cavalry galloped through the town to intercept the new line of retreat. All became disorder and confusion, the guns were left, while the artillerymen fled with the horses. Vehemently and closely did the British pursue, and nothing could stop their victorious career until night and the disappearance of the flying masses had ended the struggle. The French lost all their artillery, all their baggage, all their equipages, all their stores, treasures, and papers, “so that no man,” says a French writer, “could prove even how much pay was due to him. Generals and subordinate officers were alike reduced to the clothes on their backs, and many of them were barefooted.”

“Never was victory more complete. The trophies were innumerable. Marshal Jourdan’s baton of command was brought to Lord Wellington, who sent it to the Prince Regent, from whom he quickly received one of an English marshal in return. The loss of the French was never ascertained; that of the Allies was 3,567 English, 1,059 Portuguese, and 550 Spanish. The spoil taken was enormous. “The soldiers of the army,” wrote Lord Wellington, “have got among them about 1,000,000 sterling in money, with the exception of about 100,000 dollars found in the military chest. Rich vestures of all sorts, gold and silver plate, pictures, jewels, parrots, monkeys, and children, lay scattered about the field amidst weeping mothers and wailing children. Joseph himself narrowly escaped; a squadron of dragoons pursued his carriage and fired into it.”

All the remaining bodies of the French in Spain fell in the fall of Vittoria. They escaped out of the kingdom by various roads as quickly as possible. “Joseph’s reign was over, the crown had fallen from his head, and after years of toil and combats, which had rather been admired than understood, the great English leader, emerging from the chaos of the Peninsular struggle, stood on the summit of the Pyrenees a recognized conqueror. From those lofty pinnacles the clangour of his trumpets pealed clear and loud, and the splendour of his genius appeared as a flaming beacon to warring nations.”[15]

Thus, in some five or six weeks, had a great kingdom been cleared of its invaders and oppressors—not by the power of superior numbers, but by the natural ascendency of a consummate military genius. “Here,” remarks Napier, “was a noble army driven like sheep before prowling wolves, although in every action the officers had been prompt and skilful, and the soldiers brave, firm, and obedient. The French troops were excellent and numerous, and the country strong and favourable for defence; but the soul of a great Commander was wanting; and hence, the Esla, the Tormes, the Douro, the Pisuerga, seemed to be all dried up, the mountains to be levelled; and 60,000 veteran soldiers, willing to fight at every step, were hurried with all the tumult and confusion of defeat across the Ebro.”

The deliverance of the Peninsula, by a force so far inferior to that of the French, must always remain one of Wellington’s greatest glories. The same French writer, whom we have already quoted, Jules Maurel, remarks this surprising fact. He says: “The truth is, that from 1808 to 1813, Wellington never had 30,000 English under his orders, even at a period when the Imperial armies deluged the Peninsula with no fewer than 370,000 men.”

Nor were the results of this great day confined to the Spanish peninsula. Like its predecessor, the victory of Salamanca, the battle of Vittoria shook the whole continent of Europe. Napoleon himself, holding his ground at Dresden, had, up to this moment, succeeded in withholding Austria from any actual participation in the confederacy against him. He had even succeeded, on the 30th of June, in obtaining a convention for the restoration of peace between himself, Russia and Prussia. But the very next day the news of the expulsion of the French from Spain reached Dresden, filling Napoleon and his ministers with consternation, and giving new life and vigour to the Russian and Prussian councils. The Allies regretted that any cessation of arms had been agreed to, and they began to long for its termination. The very moment it expired by lapse of time, Austria joined the Allies; war was actively resumed, and the autumn had not ended before Napoleon had been driven across the Rhine, and Germany freed from the presence of the French armies.

The French writer from whom we have just quoted, Jules Maurel, thus notices this remarkable passage in modern history:

“Scarcely had the armistice been signed when intelligence arrived that the French had lost everything in Spain. In 40 days Wellington had turned, one after another, all the positions occupied by the French armies of the centre, of the south and of the north, and had crossed the Tormes, the Douro, the Esla, the Carrion, and the Ebro. He had reached Vittoria; he had gained a decisive battle; he had expelled King Joseph from the Peninsula, and had planted his army on the Pyrenees. In the beginning of May he was in Portugal; on the 23rd of June he was on the frontiers of France. The defeat of Vittoria entirely neutralized the victories of Lutzen and Bautzen, and at once restored the coalition.”

VOUGLE, BATTLE OF.—Fought between Alaric II and Clovis of France. Alaric was entirely overthrown, and the whole country subdued. Clovis afterwards made Paris the capital, and became the founder of the French Monarchy.

W.

WAGRAM, BATTLE OF.—Fought, July 5th, 1809, between the Austrians and French, in which the former were completely overthrown; 20,000 were taken by the French. The slaughter on both sides was dreadful. The defeated army retreated into Moravia.

WAKEFIELD, BATTLE OF.—Fought, December 31st, 1460, between Queen Margaret, the wife of Henry VI, and the Duke of York, in which the latter was slain, and 3000 Yorkists fell in the field. This was one of the bloodiest battles between the houses of York and Lancaster.

WALCHEREN EXPEDITION.—This important expedition consisted of thirty-five ships of the line, and 200 smaller vessels, and 40,000 troops, under the command of the Earl of Chatham. The fleet was commanded by Sir Richard Strachan. A large number of the forces died, and the whole expedition came to nothing, December 28th, 1809.

WARSAW, BATTLES OF.—The Poles suffered a great defeat here from the Russians, October 10th and 12th, 1794. Suwarrow, the Russian General, after the siege of Warsaw, cruelly butchered 30,000 Poles, November 8th, 1794. The battle preceding the surrender of Warsaw was fearfully bloody; of 26,000 men, more than 10,000 were killed; nearly 10,000 were made prisoners, and only 2000 escaped the merciless fury of the Russian butcher. Another battle fought here, and the Poles again defeated, September 7th and 8th, 1831.

WASHINGTON.—Taken, August 24th, 1814, in the war between Great Britain and the United States, by General Ross, when all the superb national structures were consumed, in a general conflagration—the troops not sparing the national library.

WATERLOO, BATTLE OF.—The greatest of all British engagements, fought June 18th, 1815, between the Duke of Wellington and Napoleon. The carnage on both sides was immense. The account of this great battle is taken from the “Twelve Great Battles of England.” The following is a fine account of the visit of Scott to the field of Waterloo after the battle, and also Alison on the defeat of the Old Guard:

WATERLOO AT NOON ON THE DAY AFTER THE BATTLE.

“On a surface of two square miles, it was ascertained that 50,000 men and horses were lying! The luxurious crop of ripe grain which had covered the field of battle was reduced to litter, and beaten into the earth; and the surface, trodden down by the cavalry, and furrowed deeply by the cannon wheels, was strewn with many a relic of the fight. Helmets and cuirasses, shattered fire-arms and broken swords; all the variety of military ornaments; Lancer caps and Highland bonnets; uniforms of every colour, plume, and pennon; musical instruments, the apparatus of artillery, drums, bugles; but, good God! why dwell on the harrowing picture of a foughten field? Each and every ruinous display bore mute testimony to the misery of such a battle. * * * Could the melancholy appearance of this scene of death be heightened, it would be by witnessing the researches of the living midst its desolation for the objects of their love. Mothers, and wives, and children, for days were occupied in that mournful duty; and the confusion of the corpses, friend and foe intermingled as they were, often rendered the attempt at recognising individuals difficult, and in some cases impossible. * * * In many places the dead lay four deep upon each other, marking the spot some British square had occupied, when exposed for hours to the murderous fire of a French battery. Outside, lancer and cuirassier were scattered thickly on the earth. Madly attempting to force the serried bayonets of the British, they had fallen, in the bootless essay, by the musketry of the inner files. Farther on, you traced the spot where the cavalry of France and England had encountered. Chasseur and hussar were intermingled; and the heavy Norman horse of the Imperial Guard were interspersed with the grey chargers which had carried Albion’s chivalry. Here the Highlander and tirailleur lay, side by side, together; and the heavy dragoon, with Green Erin’s badge upon his helmet, was grappling in death with the Polish lancer. * * * On the summit of the ridge, where the ground was covered with death, and trodden fetlock-deep in mud and gore, by the frequent rush of rival cavalry, the thick-strewn corpses of the Imperial Guard pointed out the spot where Napoleon had been defeated. Here, in column, that favoured corps, on whom his last chance rested, had been annihilated; and the advance and repulse of the Guard was traceable by a mass of fallen Frenchmen. In the hollow below, the last struggle of France had been vainly made; for the Old Guard, when the middle battalion had been forced back, attempted to meet the British, and afford time for their disorganised companions to rally. Here the British left, which had converged upon the French centre, had come up; and here the bayonet closed the contest.”

DEFEAT OF THE OLD GUARD AT WATERLOO.

“The Imperial Guard was divided into two columns, which, advancing from different parts of the field, were to converge to the decisive point on the British right centre, about midway between La Haye Sainte and the nearest enclosures of Hougoumont. Reille commanded the first column, which was supported by all the infantry and cavalry which remained of his corps on either flank, and advanced up the hill in a slanting direction, beside the orchard of Hougoumont. The second was headed by Ney in person, and moving down the chaussée of Charleroi to the bottom of the slope, it then inclined to the left, and leaving La Haye Sainte to the right, mounted the slope, also in a slanting direction, converging towards the same point whither the other column was directing its steps. Napoleon went with this column as far as the place where it left the hollow of the high road, and spoke a few words—the last he ever addressed to his soldiers—to each battalion in passing. The men moved on with shouts of Vive l’Empereur! so loud as to be heard along the whole British line, above the roar of artillery, and it was universally thought the Emperor himself was heading the attack. But, meanwhile, Wellington had not been idle. Sir Frederick Adam’s brigade, consisting of the 52nd, 71st, and 95th, and General Maitland’s brigade of Guards, which had been drawn from Hougoumont, with Chasse’s Dutch troops, yet fresh, were ordered to bring up their right shoulders, and wheel inward, with their guns in front, towards the edge of the ridge; and the whole batteries in that quarter inclined to the left, so as to expose the advancing columns coming up to a concentric fire on either flank: the central point, where the attack seemed likely to fall, was strengthened by nine heavy guns; the troops at that point were drawn up four deep, in the form of an interior angle: the Guards forming one side, the 73rd and 30th the other;—while the light cavalry of Vivian and Vandeleur was brought up behind the line, at the back of La Haye Sainte, and stationed close in the rear, so as to be ready to make the most of any advantage which might occur.

It was a quarter past seven when the first column of the Old Guard, under Reille, advanced to the attack; but the effect of the artillery on its flank was such, that the cavalry were quickly dispersed: and the French battalions uncovered, showed their long flank to Adam’s guns, which opened on them a fire so terrible, that the head of the column, constantly pushed on by the mass in the rear, never advanced, but melted away as it came into the scene of carnage. Shortly after, Ney’s column approached with an intrepid step; the veterans of Wagram and Austerlitz were there; no force on earth seemed capable of resisting them; they had decided every former battle. Drouot was beside the Marshal, who repeatedly said to him they were about to gain a glorious victory. General Friant was killed by Ney’s side: the Marshal’s own horse was shot under him; but bravely advancing on foot, with his drawn sabre in his hand, he sought death from the enemy’s volleys. The impulse of this massy column was at first irresistible; the guns were forced back, and the Imperial Guard came up to within forty paces of the English Foot Guards, and the 73rd and 30th regiments. These men were lying down, four deep, in a small ditch behind the rough road, which there goes along the summit of the ridge. “Up Guards, and at them!” cried the Duke, who had repaired to the spot; and the whole, on both sides of the angle into which the French were advancing, springing up, moved forward a few paces, and poured in a volley so close and well directed, that nearly the whole first two ranks of the French fell at once. Gradually advancing, they now pushed the immense column, yet bravely combatting, down the slope; and Wellington, at that decisive instant, ordered Vivian’s brigade to charge the retiring body on one flank, while Adam’s foot advanced against it on the other. The effect of this triple attack, at once in front and on both flanks, was decisive: the 52nd and 71st, swiftly converging inward, threw in so terrible a volley on their left flank, that the Imperial Guard swerved in disorder to the right; and at that very instant the 10th, 18th, and 21st dragoons, under Vivian, bore down with irresistible fury, and piercing right through the body, threw it into irrevocable confusion. The cry, “Tout est perdu—la Garde recule!” arose in the French ranks, and the enormous mass, driven headlong down the hill, overwhelmed everything which came in its way, and spread disorder through the whole French centre.”

DESCRIPTION OF WATERLOO FROM THE TWELVE BATTLES.

“We have seen the three several stages by which the Duke of Wellington had conducted the British army to that elevated position in which the peace of 1814 left it. We have seen how it had, first, on the broad fields of Castile, boldly encountered a French army of twice its strength, and had sent it back in defeat. Next, at Salamanca, meeting an army of equal force, it had scattered it by an assault of a single hour, annihilating at a blow one-half of its strength. And lastly, falling upon the intrusive King himself in his final position of retreat and defence at Vittoria, it had driven his entire array, like a flock of frightened sheep, over the Pyrenees. After those triumphs, by which a whole realm of great extent had been delivered from its invaders, there seemed scarcely any way by which the fame and honour of the British army and its illustrious Commander could be enhanced, except by an event not to be anticipated—an encounter with the great conqueror of modern times, now an exile at Elba; and a triumph over him.

This event, however unlikely it might seem, was reserved for England’s soldiers and her General; and it occurred in less than a year after the apparent restoration of peace. Napoleon suddenly left his island-home, reappeared in France, gathered his soldiers round him, and re-entered Paris as once more its Emperor. Naturally enough, the Sovereigns who had compelled his retirement, scarcely nine months before, resolved to maintain their position; and they covenanted with each other to place armies amounting to 600,000 men on the soil of France in the course of July, 1815. The British portion of this force was collecting together in the months of May and June, under the Duke’s command; when Napoleon determined not to wait for the attack, but to carry the war into the allied territories; and, accordingly, in the second week in June he entered Belgium. Before he had proceeded twenty miles he encountered both the English and the Prussian armies, and on the fourth day, at a distance of about thirty miles from the French frontier, was fought the great and decisive battle of Waterloo.

This momentous contest will require of us a more lengthened description than we have given of any of the great battles; both because it was an event of the highest possible importance to the fate of England, of Europe, and of the world; and also because it was, so to speak, a succession of battles fought on one field, and on the same day. In a former case we have seen “an army of forty thousand men defeated in forty minutes;” but here the deadly strife occupied nearly ten hours. The French opened the attack at eleven in the morning, and at nine o’clock at night the last of their battalions had not yet quitted the field. In the course of these ten hours four or five desperate and prolonged contests had taken place; each of which might have been justly called a battle. It will be impossible, therefore, to give any fair or complete idea of this long continued struggle, without occupying much greater space than is required for an ordinary battle.

It is also a history which is thickly strewn with controversies. The defeated General himself was the first to open this wordy strife. The loss of the fight of Waterloo was a fact to which he never could be reconciled. That battle hurled him, finally, from the throne on which he had for the second time seated himself, and sent him to wear out the few remaining years of his life on the rock of St. Helena. In that retirement he occupied himself, for the most part, in a series of efforts to resuscitate his extinguished “glory.”[16] In these attempts he was hampered by no moral scruples; for, as Emerson has remarked, “this, the highest-placed individual in the world, had not the merit of common truth and honesty; he would steal, slander, assassinate, as his interest indicated.” Any reasonable man, therefore, will read his “Historical Memoir,” book ix, written at St. Helena, and published in London in 1820, with that caution which is so plainly called for when a document is confessedly an exparte statement, and written by one who is known to be of unscrupulous character.

Yet that document has been received in many quarters with a credulity which is somewhat surprising. It is true that this credulity may be accounted for in the case of the French historians—who, obliged to confess that their defeat at Waterloo was “horrible”—a “massacre”—a “deluge of blood”—are glad to have supplied to them, under Napoleon’s own hand, the apology that he was overmatched and greatly outnumbered; and that yet, after all, he would have proved victorious if one of his Generals had not disobeyed his commands.

The latter of these two pleas has been generally rejected by English writers—utterly denied as its truth has been by the party so accused. But, strangely enough, although there was every probability that Napoleon’s account of his own strength, and of that of his opponent, would be wholly untrustworthy—several of our best English writers have given entire credence of his statement of the real amount of his army; even while those statements are clearly refuted by abundant testimonies of many Frenchmen. And this point is not an immaterial one. For if we could admit the truth of Napoleon’s final conclusion, that “On that day 69,000 French beat 120,000 men, and the victory was only torn from them between eight and nine o’clock at night by the increase of the allies to 150,000 men”[17]—what merit could we assign to the British soldiers, or to their great commander, for such a victory? But, in sober verity, of all the falsehoods deliberately put forth by Napoleon in the course of his life, this, probably, is nearly the greatest.

Let us, however, now endeavour to arrange our narrative in its proper order. The army which was assembling in Belgium under the Duke’s command, had reached, in the beginning of June, the respectable amount of almost 100,000 men. It contained, however, far more Belgians, Hanoverians, Brunswickers, and Dutchmen, than British troops, and far more new levies, landwehr, and militia, than of experienced soldiers. The English regiments which had followed the Duke through all the fields of Spain had been sent to America, and were now on the Atlantic, on their return home. He had some of the Guards, and a few other regiments of some standing; but the largest portion of the British troops which had yet reached Belgium were second battalions—new recruits drafted from the militia—and the same observation would apply to the Hanoverians and other auxiliaries.

It was a knowledge of this intrinsic weakness of the Duke’s army, and of the fact that 10,000 or 15,000 of his old Peninsular troops would soon join him, that decided Napoleon, as is frankly confessed,[18] to make a sudden attack on the British and Prussian forces before they were fully prepared to meet him. Silently, therefore, but with his usual skill and rapidity, Napoleon brought together a powerful army, and on the morning of the 15th of June he moved forward and entered Belgium.

And here we are met by the most current of all the fictions which are connected with this history. A variety of writers have repeated, one after another—Napoleon himself setting them the example—the story that the Duke never heard of the approach of the French until eleven o’clock in the evening of that day, while at a ball at Brussels. The facts, however, which are beyond dispute, are these—that the French did not enter Charleroi, the first Belgian town, until eleven or twelve o’clock on June the 15th—that tidings of their movement reached the Duke at Brussels by three o’clock, and that between four and five o’clock that same afternoon orders went out to every corps of the British army to move to the front, many of them beginning their march that same evening. There was no surprise, then, nor was there the loss of a single day. The French had not marched thirty miles—had not entered any place of the least importance, when, on the third day, they found the British army drawn up across their path, and had to fight the battle of Waterloo.

They had, indeed, found their progress arrested still earlier. Entering Belgium on the 15th, they were stopped the very next day at Ligny by the Prussians, at Quatre Bras by a part of the English army. Marshal Blucher being defeated, and retiring a few miles, the Duke fell back also, and thus was enabled to draw up his army at Waterloo—a position which he had before observed to be an advantageous one, and which was in all respects well suited to the defence of Brussels.

It was on the afternoon of the 17th June that the Duke’s army found itself assembled on this spot. The French army, led by Napoleon himself, soon approached, but the day was too far advanced to afford time for a general engagement. The two armies, therefore, took position, the English on a rising ground called Mont St. Jean, about half a mile in advance of the village of Waterloo, and nine miles on the French side of Brussels; the French on a series of heights facing Mont St. Jean, having the village of Planchenoit on the right, and looking down upon a small valley which separated the two hosts.

And now we are naturally brought to a consideration of the question, what was the respective strength of these two armies? This is a point upon which Napoleon has bestowed great pains in his “Historical Memoir, Book ix,” and on which he has succeeded in deluding many English writers.

As to the strength of the British army, there can be no kind of doubt upon that point, for the actual numbers present in each battalion and squadron was carefully recorded; and these records were needed to establish the respective rights of all present to honours and rewards. We have spoken of a gross amount of nearly 100,000 men. But of these, several thousands were required to garrison Antwerp, Ostend, Nieuport, Ypres, Tournai, and Mons,—the loss at Quatre Bras had been 3000 or 4000, and a post of observation at Hal, consisted of nearly 6000. When these deductions were made, not quite 70,000 men remained, to meet Napoleon’s attack at Waterloo.

The British infantry in the field were 15,181, and the German Legion infantry were 3301. The British and German cavalry were 7840, and their artillery was 3493. Thus the whole reliable force of the Duke—the force to which he must look to stand the French attack—was not quite 30,000 men. All this was well known to Napoleon, who, in his “Book ix,” says, “Victory appeared to be certain,” for the French army consisted of “good troops, while, in the enemy’s army, the English only, amounting to 40,000 at most, could be reckoned upon as such.”[19]

The “Allied troops,” who made up the Duke’s array, consisted of 10,755 Hanoverians, many of whom were mere landwehr or militia, and nearly 25,000 Belgians, Dutch, and men of Brunswick and Nassau. Some of these fought gallantly, but others retreated whenever the French approached,—some actually flying from the field. Hence Napoleon justly says, “one Englishman might be counted for one Frenchman:—two Dutchmen, Prussians, or soldiers of the Confederation, for one Frenchman.”

Adopting, therefore, Napoleon’s own method of calculation, we may say, that the Duke had an army nominally amounting to about 68,000 men, really equal to something less than 50,000.

And now we turn to the other side of the account. Here we must, to be safe, accept only French testimony. If we draw together all the credible statements of this class that we can find, we shall probably be able to arrive at a just conclusion.

There was published at Paris, in 1815, a volume by an officer attached to the staff, which may be considered to be “the French account,” at the time and in detail, of this battle. In this volume, the whole army which entered Belgium is stated to have been “150,000 effective men of whom about 30,000 were cavalry.” It seems improbable that a staff-officer should have greatly erred, or that a Frenchman should have exaggerated the strength of the beaten army. Reckoning, therefore, the gross number to have been 150,000; and deducting 15,000 for losses at Ligny, and at Quatre Bras, we may estimate the force detached under Grouchy on the 17th, at about 38 or 40,000 men, and the strength of the French army at Waterloo at something more than 90,000.

And this estimate precisely agrees with Napoleon’s own statement, written at Paris three days after the battle. In this bulletin he says, “We estimated the force of the English army at 80,000 men. We supposed that a Prussian corps which might be in line toward the right might be 15,000 men. The enemy’s force, then, was upwards of 90,000 men; ours less numerous.”

He is here speaking of the morning. But there was not a Prussian soldier in the field until five o’clock in the afternoon; and this Napoleon well knew. Why, then, does he here introduce a “supposed” Prussian corps? Clearly, in order to bring up the allied force to 95,000 men, so that he might be able to add, “Ours, less numerous.” He had every possible motive, as a beaten General, striving to make the best of his case,—for saying, if he had dared,—“The enemy was more than 90,000 strong, but we had not quite 70,000.” But he could not venture, in the face of abundant evidence then existing, to say that his army was less than 80,000, the force he assigns to the English. He therefore, by an “ingenious device,” augments the allied force to 95,000; and then he can venture to assert that his own army was inferior in numbers. There is clearly implied in this statement an admission that his own force was not greatly below 95,000.

Yet when Ney and others were dead, and the records, in all probability, scattered or destroyed, the same man who wrote this bulletin, concocted at St. Helena, four or five years after, a widely-different account. In his “Book ix,” p. 128, he puts forth an elaborate table, purporting to show, that the whole force of the French army at Waterloo was only 68,650 men! And such has been the imposing effect of this table, that many English writers, while they could detect the falsehood of other statements in that same volume, still accepted, as an undeniable fact, the conclusion, that Napoleon’s army at Waterloo consisted of only 68,650 men! Yet only common prudence, and the use of a little careful scrutiny, was needed, to prove that these same elaborate tables in “Book ix” were nothing more than what is usually called, in railway language, “a cooked account.”

The proof of this shall be given from French writers alone. And, first, let “Book ix” refute itself, by its own self contradictions. At page 71, it gives the second corps, 19,800 infantry; while at p. 95-97, it states the same infantry, at the same moment, at 21,000. At page 128 it gives the first corps 16,500 infantry, and at table F it calls the same infantry, 17,600. At page 128 the cavalry of the Guard and the third and fourth corps of cavalry are stated at 10,000; while at pp. 158 and 173 they are twice called 12,000. At p. 35 we are told that “the regiments generally had but two battalions; each battalion consisting of 600 men, present and under arms.” Yet in the principal table, F, the regiments are always estimated at either 1000 or 1100 men, the battalions at 500 or 550. Thus it is abundantly clear, even from the pages of “Book ix” itself, that its writer is one who “plays at fast and loose with figures.”

But other refutations, from purely French sources, are abundant. We have seen that Napoleon states, in “Book ix,” p. 35, that his battalions had 600 men; but that he quietly puts them down in table F, as being only 500 or 550.

Now in his portfolio, captured at Charleroi, and published at Brussels, there was one report, made by an officer named De Launoy, and dated “Montalimert, June 4th,” which said, “The first battalion, 720 strong, marched on the 1st of June.” And, in the Moniteur of May 28th, published at Paris under Napoleon’s own authority, there was given a letter dated “Lille, May 26th,” which says, “Our garrison is entirely composed of battalions of select troops, which successively arrive: the 20th arrived yesterday; almost all consist of 720 men; we are expecting two battalions of veterans.” Now these troops formed part of the first corps, as stated in “Book ix,” p. 31; and in table F they are all set down as having in each battalion, 550 men!

It was of this first corps that Marshal Ney spoke in his letter of June 26th, 1815, in which he complained of having it taken away from him on the 16th. He describes it as having consisted of “between 25,000 and 30,000 men.” He must have had the actual returns in his pocket when he wrote this. Now if the battalions generally consisted of 720 men, as the Moniteur of May 28th had told us, then its thirty-two battalions would have contained 23,040; which added to 1400 cavalry, and 1564 artillery men, would be accurately described as “between 25,000 and 30,000 men.” But Napoleon, in his statement of the force at Waterloo, sets down the infantry of this corps as only 16,500; thus contradicting at once the statement of the Moniteur, the report found in his own portfolio, and the declaration of the Marshal who commanded that corps!

In the same spirit, in the table of the troops at Waterloo, (Book ix, p. 128,) we find the infantry of the Guard set down as being 11,500. Yet Gourgaud, Napoleon’s Aide-de-Camp, and Fleury de Chaboulon, his secretary, both concur in stating this infantry to have been 14,000.[20]

Of the heavy cavalry we have already seen, that while Napoleon, in his table, at p. 128, sets it down at 4000, 3000, and 3000, or 10,000 in all, he afterwards twice describes it, at p. 158 and at p. 173, as “these 12,000 select horse.”

Once more, in “Book ix,” p. 129, he states the force detached under Grouchy to have been 34,300. His own companion at St. Helena, General Montholon, in his history, (vol. i, p. 14,) calls this force 42,000.

All this evidence, then, drawn from several quarters, but wholly French, points to one conclusion,—namely, that Napoleon, in forming his tables for “Book ix,” deliberately reduced his real strength at Waterloo by about one-fourth or one-fifth; and that his first statement, in his bulletin issued at the time, was the true one; namely, that his army was only somewhat “less numerous than 95,000.”

And to this conclusion a remarkable support is found, in the behaviour of the two Generals on the day preceding the action. Wellington had beaten nearly every one of Napoleon’s Marshals;[21]—and could not but feel a degree of exultation at the thought of meeting the master of them all. Napoleon, on his part, had to encounter a General who had never been conquered. Supposing, then, the armies to have been nearly equal in strength, what might have been anticipated, but a degree of eager anticipation on Wellington’s side, and of seriousness on Napoleon’s? Instead of which, what do we hear? The Duke writes to Marshal Blucher, that he will accept battle, if the Marshal will assist him with one corps of his army. Meanwhile, Napoleon’s only anxiety is lest the English should escape him. “He was surprised,” writes his secretary, Fleury, “when daylight discovered to him that the English army had not quitted its positions, but appeared disposed to accept battle.” “He returned to his head-quarters (Book ix, p. 125) full of satisfaction at the great fault committed by the enemy’s General.” “He held this,” says Brialmont, “to be rashness, and a fault, exclaiming, ‘At last, then, I have them,—these English!’” Do not these views and anticipations, on the part of both of the Generals, make it quite evident that each of them was fully aware of the great superiority of the French army; and of the temerity of which the Duke would be guilty if, without any assurance of support, he ventured on an engagement in the face of such odds?

It is worth remark, too, that while several of the best English writers have accepted with the most good-natured simplicity, Napoleon’s own account of the force with which he fought this battle—French historians, even when admirers of Napoleon, show much less faith in his assertions. Thus, Lamartine, having Napoleon’s ixth Book before him, in which the number, “sixty-eight thousand, six hundred and fifty men,” is strenuously insisted on—quietly disregards the fiction, and repeatedly speaks of the French force as being “eighty thousand men.”[22]

But Napoleon’s “certainty of success,” of which he speaks at p. 127 of his Book ix, rested more upon the superior quality of his troops than on their superior numbers. He was thoroughly well aware, both of the slight value of the Belgian and Hanoverian auxiliaries, and of the excellence of his own troops. And the Duke, also, knew full well both of these facts. On the 8th of May he had written to Lord Stewart, “I have got an infamous army; very weak and ill-equipped; and a very inexperienced staff.” And seven days after the battle, he repeated to Lord Bathurst, that he had got “not only the worst troops, but the worst-equipped army, with the worst staff, that ever was brought together.”[23]

On the other hand, Napoleon’s army was, for its amount, the finest that he had ever led into the field. Thus his secretary, Fleury, says, “The whole army was superb, and full of ardour.” Lamartine speaks of it as “his grand army of chosen men; every battalion of which had a soul equal to the utmost extremity.” Napoleon himself, in “Book ix,” says: “The spectacle was really magnificent: the earth seemed proud of being trod by such intrepid combatants.” And at St. Helena he told O’Meara: “My troops were so good, that I esteemed them sufficient to beat a hundred and twenty thousand.”[24]

Thus, as Brialmont remarks, whatever might be the numerical proportion of the two armies, “when we come to look at the respective qualities of the troops, the inferiority of the Anglo-Belgian army was enormous. Not only was it composed of heterogeneous elements, but it consisted almost entirely of young soldiers, a large proportion of whom had never been under fire. The Hanoverian contingent was made up of militia; and many regiments were fit only for garrison duty.”[25]

The evening which preceded the memorable 18th of June was dark and cloudy; the rain fell in torrents, and the men were often ankle-deep in water. But, however deplorable might be their outward condition, the interest of this eventful moment rendered the combatants on either side, almost insensible to physical sufferings. Every man in both armies knew that a great and decisive battle was to be fought on the following day. With the opening morning, then, would begin what might prove the final contest,—ending a strife of nations which had lasted more than twenty years. The two greatest Generals of the age were for the first time to be brought into collision: the conqueror of Europe was to measure swords with the deliverer of Spain. No two such leaders, it has been well observed, had confronted each other, since Hannibal and Scipio met at Zama.

Doubtless, and very naturally, the greatest degree of confidence was felt in the camp of the invaders. The French soldiers relied with reason on the extraordinary talents of their great leader, victorious in fifty contests, foiled in scarcely any. The men who stood by his side, too, were the veterans who had marched triumphantly over many victorious fields, and who now felt defeat, under such a Captain, to be scarcely possible. They were confident, too, in their numbers. All of them had heard that the Emperor had carried over the frontier a picked army of 150,000 men. They saw on the heights around them the first and second corps, amounting together to nearly 50,000 men, with the sixth, less numerous, in reserve. The Imperial Guard was there, from 18,000 to 20,000 strong,—the finest troops that France had ever possessed, and the cuirassiers, nearly 6,000 in number. What could a mixed force of a few English, joined with Belgians, Hanoverians, and Dutchmen, do against such a power?

Very naturally, therefore, we learn from Gourgaud, that “the French troops were full of enthusiasm. Such were the acclamations of joy, that they prevented the orders from being heard.”[26] From Napoleon to his Generals, from the Generals to the troops, the feeling had spread and become universal. “Ah! we have them, then,—these English!”

The British troops had not the same ground of confidence. They knew well that their own numbers did not amount to one-third of the strength of Napoleon’s army, and that the Hanoverian and Belgian landwehr, by whom their line was to be filled up, were of very uncertain value. Many of the battalions, both English and foreign, had never been in action before. Still, they had a great and well-founded trust in their Commander; and with a spirit like his own, they meant to do their duty, and while they lived, to stand their ground.

The field of Waterloo, or the heights of Mont St. Jean, as the English and the French respectively call this spot, is a piece of slightly-elevated ground lying, as we have already said, about 1000 yards in advance of the village of Waterloo. Brussels, in which Napoleon intended to sleep that night, was about nine miles in the rear of the English army. The main road from Charleroi to Brussels passed through the French position, descended into the valley, and then ascended Mont St. Jean, cutting the English position at right angles near a farm-house called La Haye Sainte. The English line lay about 200 yards behind this farm-house. Here was the centre and left centre. In advance of the right wing of the English army, and between it and the left wing of the French, stood a larger house, surrounded by walled gardens and orchards, and called Hougoumont. As this place would have afforded great advantages to the French in preparing attacking columns, the Duke placed in it some companies of the Foot-Guards, with some Nassau and Hanoverian troops, and enjoined its resolute defence. Well were his orders obeyed, for the utmost efforts of a whole army corps of the French were ineffectual to carry this position. The French lost 6 or 8000 men in the attempt, but up to the very close of the day the English Foot-Guards maintained their possession.

The position of Waterloo was deliberately chosen by the Duke, and the choice is commended by all unprejudiced critics. Yet Napoleon, ungenerous throughout, strives to depreciate his antagonist’s judgment in this particular. He says, in “Book ix:”—“The English General had in his rear the defiles of the forest of Soignes, so that if beaten, retreat was impossible” (p. 125). Upon which M. Lamartine observes: “In fighting on the borders of a forest fortified in all its approaches, as well as by its own impenetrability, the Duke had every pledge of victory, if victory was possible; and of a secure retreat if defeat were unavoidable. Waterloo was an admirable field of battle, and it is to be regretted that Napoleon has not acknowledged this, but has obstinately striven to prove that his conqueror was unworthy of him. These are the littlenesses of glory. The choice of Waterloo on Wellington’s part was a further mark of that genius, at once resolute, powerful, and prudent, which has characterized all the campaigns of this General.”

It should be added, that the Duke, during five years of constant warfare with the French armies, had never once been beaten by them in a pitched battle. Nor had he any thought of retreating upon the present occasion, or any desire to make a special provision for such an emergency. In after years he dropped the remark: “I knew that they could never so beat us, but that we could have made good the forest against them.”

And now the several divisions of the two armies were placed in the positions which to the two commanders seemed suitable. On the left of Napoleon’s line he placed his second corps, which he himself states to have consisted of 17,000 men, and which undoubtedly was nearer 20,000. This corps, to which his brother Jerome was attached, was ordered to seize upon Hougoumont, and then to attack the right of the British army. Napoleon’s right wing was formed of his first corps, under Ney’s command. This corps had not yet been in action, and was complete. Napoleon sets down its strength us 17,900 men; but Ney, who commanded it, describes it as “from twenty-five to thirty thousand.” In the second line stood the sixth corps, consisting of 7 or 8000 men; the heavy cavalry, of about 7000; and in a third line stood the Imperial Guard, which, of cavalry and infantry, had at least 18,000. The artillery numbered more than 6000 men, with 240 cannon. The entire force was probably described with truth in Napoleon’s bulletin of the battle, in which he calls it “less than 95,000.”