Battle Of Waterloo
The Beginning of British Nineteenth-Century Predominance
In British history the Battle of Waterloo, 1815, is a date as well known as 1066. It marked the end of an immense effort by Britain to defeat Napoleon, of a war sustained for twenty-two years, in which Britain alone of the powers of Europe never compromised herself, much less allied herself, as did at times Austria, Russia and Prussia, with the Emperor, and, except for a short armed truce between 1802-1804, never ceased fighting him.
Well might Napoleon say: “All the ills and curses which can afflict mankind come from London.” It was British sea-power which attacked him in the Mediterranean and in the Baltic and which had made possible the landing of a British army in Spain. Since he could not invade England he had been forced to try and master all Europe to blockade and starve her out, and so it was really because of England that he had embarked on his disastrous invasion of Russia in 1812.
The Battle of Waterloo itself was one of the most glorious ever won by a British army. It was not on as large a scale as some of the other battles of the Napoleonic wars; but it was one of the most savagely fought and certainly the most decisive.
When the Revolution began, there was more sympathy for it in England than in any other country. At the news of the taking of the Bastille in 1789, Charles James Fox, the great Whig leader and friend of the Prince Regent (afterwards George IV), exclaimed: “How much is this the greatest event that ever happened in the world. And how much the best.” William Pitt the Younger, the Prime Minister, who was to be the tireless animator of the war against France, began the war reluctantly. He declared war in 1793 both to prevent Holland, Belgium, particularly the port of Antwerp, from falling into French hands, and because a wave of indignation against the execution of Louis XVI was sweeping the country. Even so, many people in England continued to sympathize with the ideals of the French Revolution and thought that England ought to try and treat with Napoleon even after he had become emperor.
Many of the great Whig leaders, including Fox, took no part in government during the whole course of the war and skulked in their country houses. The government was alarmed at the extent of opposition, and replied by repressive measures including the suspension of the Habeas Corpus Act. Charges of high treason were brought against those who dared speak not only against the foreign but against the internal policies of the government. Measures of social reform were set aside. Napoleon’s continental boycott of British goods and shipping hit the country hard, and the Industrial Revolution on which Britain’s economic strength was based was pushed on regardless of the conditions under which men, women and children were obliged to work and live.
Yet in spite of the fact that reaction was in power the English genius for politics still kept its strength. Juries composed of men who were probably themselves anti-Jacobin and haters of French ideas, acquitted liberals and revolutionaries against whom the government prosecutor asked for severe sentences. Liberty of opinion, though muzzled, remained. In 1807 the British Parliament abolished the Slave Trade, the work of Wilberforce whom Pitt had supported.
As the war went on, Napoleon’s conquests and his threatened invasion of England made the war increasingly a national one. A country which could allow itself to be divided and yet could maintain the essential freedoms whilst fighting for its life was a more dangerous foe to France than the countries in which public opinion did not exist as a force at all. When, in 1814, the Allies entered Paris and Napoleon was exiled to Elba, there was immense elation, the feeling of having escaped from the gravest danger that had threatened Britain since the Spanish Armada.
The Duke of Wellington, British plenipotentiary at the Congress of Vienna, set up to reorganize Europe, counselled moderation in the treatment of France. His advice was listened to respectfully, for thanks to Trafalgar and the Peninsular War Britain’s prestige was high. It was to be higher still after the Hundred Days.
On 1 March, 18×5, Napoleon Bonaparte sailed from Elba and landed on the south coast of France with eleven hundred men. He knew the Bourbons and the new regime were unpopular and thought that the French army would desert to him. He was right. Marshal Ney, who told King Louis XVIII that he would bring back Napoleon to Paris in an iron cage, went over after Napoleon had captured Lyons, the second city of France. On 19 March the king left Paris in a coach for Ghent, and on 20 March Napoleon was back, Emperor of the French, in the Tuileries. The Hundred Days began, and perhaps Napoleon had never shown in all his life greater daring than by this enterprise.
When the news of Napoleon’s triumphant enterprise reached Vienna, the statesmen of Europe who had been planning the reorganization of the continent acted with surprising agreement. Although Napoleon had sent messages announcing his peaceful intentions, he was at once outlawed by all the powers. Napoleon had expected that his wife, Marie-Louise, would have used her influence with the Emperor of Austria. In France, he had stressed that the last thing he wanted was war and encouraged the view that the Empress would return to France with her son, the King of Rome, and with the blessing of the Austrian Emperor. But Marie-Louise, during the nine months that Napoleon had spent in Elba, had acquired a lover, Count Niepperg, and looked now on Napoleon and France with aversion.
Apart from relying on a woman, Napoleon had made another error. The Congress of Vienna had agreed without difficulty to the very moderate peace terms imposed on France; it was aware of the unpopularity of the Bourbons and it did not wish to make Louis XVIII’s position more difficult than it was. In a few months’ time, however, the question of partitioned Poland would have come before the Congress of Vienna, and there would certainly have been violent disagreements. It was at such a moment that Napoleon might have better timed his return.
Napoleon quickly realized that he could not avoid having to light once more for his throne. Bitterly hurt by Marie-Louise’s infidelity (all the more in that it was the subject of jokes) and aware that, for all the bounding enthusiasm of the French army, his people, and particularly the middle classes, were war weary, Napoleon decided he must win a quick victory. In Belgium was a Prussian army under Blucher, and an English force with German and Dutch contingents, commanded by the Duke of Wellington. He determined to strike at once at these and, by so doing, win back Belgium and Holland where, as he rightly guessed, Republican feeling was still strong. Then he could hope to deal with Austria and Russia separately, and perhaps make peace with the former. For a man who three years before, in 1812, had held all Europe in his power, such a plan was far from impossible.
As a matter of fact this was a widely shared view in Europe and, in Brussels, where the Duke of Wellington now established his headquarters, the population, though markedly friendly to the British soldiers, believed firmly in a French victory. In England, indignation that Napoleon had been allowed to escape and the world to be pushed once again into war was accompanied by determination to see it through. Many Englishmen admired Napoleon and even, once he had been exiled, felt a sort of sympathy for him; but scarcely anyone favoured treating with him.
The determination to fight, however, was not matched by much immediate effective preparations. Troops were shipped slowly over to Belgium and the Prince Regent was tardy about making decisions and interfered with the selection of high officers. By the beginning of June, when Napoleon’s preparations for invading Belgium were clear, some of the best regiments of Britain’s army were still in the United States, which in 1813 had been persuaded to enter the war as France’s ally.
The Duke of Wellington, when the campaign began, commanded an army of some forty-nine thousand men of whom only about twenty-three thousand were British. While some of his German contingents were reliable, the Duke believed, and he proved right, that the Dutch and Belgians were poor and unwilling soldiers. Altogether, he described his force as: “The worst equipped army with the worst staff ever brought together.” Wellington, however, loved caustic phrases and never believed in looking at facts optimistically. Perhaps, too, he liked to frighten the world of fashion, a large part of which had flocked to Brussels. Sometimes the Duke was more optimistic Walking in a park with Mr Creevey, the well-known social gossip, the Duke pointed to an infantryman who was also there and gaping at the statues and said: “There, it all depends on that article whether we do the business or not. Give me enough of it and I am sure.”
On 14 June Napoleon joined his troops. On the 15th his army of eighty thousand men with the finest artillery in the world crossed the Meuse and occupied Charleroi. The nearest enemy force was the Prussian army, concentrated at Ligny, just to the north-east of the great broad stone road from Charleroi to Brussels. Napoleon himself attacked the Prussians on the 16th and sent Marshal Ney towards Brussels.
As soon as Wellington heard that the French were about to attack the main Prussian force, he sent forward a brigade to Quatre Bras, which is about halfway between Brussels and Charleroi, and ordered a general advance. On the night of 15 June the Duke and many of his officers were at the ball given in Brussels by the Duchess of Richmond which has been made famous by Byron’s great poem.
When the sound of distant cannonading at Quatre Bras became just audible in the ball-room, the British officers left as inconspicuously as possible.
The Duke himself was very cheerful and unconcerned; he rode through the rest of the night to Ligny to consult with Blucher and then afterwards, early the next morning, joined the British forces at Quatre Bras. Wellington was a man of few words and it is said he was unusually taciturn when he talked with Blucher beside a windmill near the battlefield. It was agreed that whatever happened the two armies, although they were now being separately attacked, should not lose touch. Wellington thought Blucher’s plan of battle at Ligny was a bad one. He said nothing, however, until one of his staff officers asked him what he thought. He answered, “If Blucher draws his men up like that, he’ll get damnably mauled”.
The Prussians at Ligny were “damnably mauled”, but retreated in good order. On the 17th, in the pouring rain, the British retreated too and took up their positions on a wooded ridge, the Mond St Jean, in front of the forest of Soignies. They were followed by the bulk of the French army with Napoleon in command who posted their guns on a ridge facing the British.
As dawn broke on Sunday, 18 June, it was still pouring and on both sides colonels and generals were peering through their telescopes. The battle, and this was much to the disadvantage of the French, did not begin until around 11.00 a.m., for although the rain had stopped much before, the fields and lanes were too miry to allow large bodies of men to move swiftly. Right through the centre of both armies ran the road from Charleroi to Brussels, and Napoleon’s headquarters were set up on this road at a farmhouse called La Belle Alliance. The village of Waterloo, which gave its name to the battle, lay just behind the British lines.
The battle which followed was one of extreme simplicity. It consisted of a series of attempts by Napoleon to break the British line, attempts all of which had some initial success but which were finally defeated by the steadiness of the British infantry. As morning turned to afternoon Napoleon became aware that on the right of his army new forces were entering the field. At first he thought it was Marshal Gruchy, whom he had detached with 32,000 men to follow Blucher and the Prussian army which he thought was defeated. But gradually Napoleon realized it was the Prussians. All was not lost for he believed he could still break Wellington and advance on Brussels.
At around half past three in the afternoon he hurled the larger part of his great cavalry force at the left of the British (Wellington’s right). Above Hougoumont, a small farm held by the British which the French had failed to capture, charged line after line of French lancers, hussars and cuirassiers. In this part of Wellington’s line the British guns were in front of the infantry. The French cavalry in most parts overran the guns, slashing the traces and, when they had time, spiking the cannons.
But triumph was followed by disaster. Time after time the cavalry squadrons charged the squares of British infantry and in vain, the sabre against the musket could only triumph if the morale of those who held the muskets was low. The British infantryman might be the scum of the earth but when well commanded he was unbeatable.
The presence of the Iron Duke was felt everywhere about the British battle-line and invariably, wherever the fighting was hottest, he trotted up on his horse Copenhagen and, with a few remarks devoid of eloquence but to the point and charged with feeling, steadied his troops. To one square, dreadfully weakened by French heavy cavalry who had sabred their way to the middle of it and about to be attacked again, he rose up suddenly and said: “Stand firm, my boys, what will they say of this in England.” To officers appealing for leave to draw back or for reinforcements he was blunt and matter of fact. “My plan”, he said to an anxious officer who asked about what was to be done if he were killed or wounded or taken off the field, “is simply to stand my ground here to the last man.”
Napoleon on the other hand did not move about until the end of the battle. For most of the battle he sat at a table on which was spread maps and plans on a small eminence outside La Belle Alliance. When the failure of his cavalry to break the English right had followed the failure of Ney on the eastern side of the battle, he decided on his last throw, the Old Guard. The charge was to be made principally in the centre of the British line of battle where the French had gained a considerable success in capturing the small farm of La Haye Sainte. But by now Napoleon knew that the situation was desperate, for a large part of the French army was now standing at right angles to the British line on the heights and defending itself from the Prussians.
Napoleon mounted his white horse as the Old Guard filed past him, full of courage and shouting “Vive l’Empereur”. For in this battle what distinguished the French and British was will and enthusiasm, which was the more surprising considering the long time the civilized world of Europe had been at war. Between seven and eight o’clock in the evening (remember it was June and the days were long) the Old Guard poured into La Haye Sainte, and dashed Up the crest of the hill. They lost many men from the British guns before they reached the crest of the hill, but hundreds of them arrived at the top and then through the smoke, nothing.
It was then that the Brigade of Guards commanded by General Maitland rose to their feet and poured salvo after salvo into the French mass which grew larger moment by moment as more battalions arrived at the top. The British had been told to lie down until the crucial moment, the better to avoid the deadly French cannon. It was, it is said, the Duke himself who gave the order: “Up Guards and fire low!” as the French mass began to pour over the hill-top. French officers displayed the greatest contempt for danger, and again and again rallied their men for one more attempt to break the British. But in vain. French generals who watched the battle could not believe their eyes when they saw the Old Guard flying rabble-like down the hill.
The Duke of Wellington gave the order to advance all along the line. The British charge took place just at the moment when Prussian cavalry was pouring on to the battlefield. Napoleon at first intended to die in the field. A square was formed around him and a group of French generals, but at the last moment Marshal Soult persuaded him that his capture would only add to the good fortune of the British. He allowed himself to be persuaded to fly.
The Iron Duke was still on the battlefield when the enemy’s resistance was over and the Prussians were in full pursuit. He appeared sad and heavy in spirit as he gazed on the thousands of dead and wounded lying on the slopes and in the valley, and as he inquired after his friends and the officers he knew. In a letter to a friend which Wellington wrote immediately after the battle he expressed his feelings in noble and simple words:
“My heart is broken by the terrible loss I have sustained in my old friends and companions, and my poor soldiers. Believe me, nothing except the battle lost can be half so melancholy as a battle won; the bravery of my troops has hitherto saved me from the greater evil; but to win such a battle as this of Waterloo, at the expense of so many gallant friends, could only be termed a heavy misfortune but for the result to the public”
Waterloo ended the cycle of wars which had begun with the victory of the French Revolution’s army at Valmy in 1793. It meant the triumph of the autocracies and of conservative England. Germany was returned to its princes, fewer in number than at the end of the eighteenth century but still one hundred and forty sovereign states. Italy remained under the heel of Austria and the Bourbons came back to Naples. There were mitigations. The Holy Alliance of Austria, Prussia and Russia paid lip service to progress and created a Federation of the States of Germany, the Diet of Frankfurt, one of the aims of which was to ensure that every State had ultimately a liberal constitution. In France, the Bourbons returned to govern but with a charter which guaranteed democratic rights. The work of the Congress of Vienna ensured peace in Europe for forty years; it also meant that German and Italian unity had to be achieved eventually by war.
Above all Waterloo marked the beginning of British predominance in Europe and throughout the world, which was to last for close on a hundred years. It was to be the British century just as the eighteenth and the second half of the seventeenth had been French. The British Empire was to reach its greatest strength and its fleet was to maintain the Pax Britannica throughout the world. It was to Britain that European patriots and progressives now looked; for although British statesmen promised no dazzling dreams of universal freedom or of European unity, Britain alone of the great powers had a liberal constitution and only in Britain were men accustomed to political liberty.