1815
The Battle of Waterloo
How Napoleon Finally Met His Match, and Europe Turned Its Back on Revolution
IT’S JUST POSSIBLE THAT THE Battle of Waterloo is the most famous battle in the history of the world. Sure, it has a few strong competitors — Cannae, Gettysburg, the Somme, D-Day. But Waterloo is one of the very few battles in world history that decided the outcome of a war on a single day. Had Coalition forces not stopped Napoleon at Waterloo, the map of Europe would have been drastically redrawn, with, just possibly, Napoleon presiding over a French empire on the Continent. The mighty clash at Waterloo also encouraged war planners for years to come to plot massive set-piece battles that might end conflicts at a single, bold stroke. This shining chimera was to cause much carnage when World War I began.
To this day, the very name of the battle is synonymous with crushing defeat and personal downfall — with overreaching ambition being thwarted. But things could have gone quite differently on that June day of 1815 in Belgium, as even the victorious British commander would acknowledge. If it had, we might be sitting in a very different world today.
A QUIET MORNING
On the morning of June 18, a few miles outside the Belgian village of Waterloo, 140,000 men faced each other over a piece of land two miles wide and about two-thirds of a mile across. On the north side, drawn up along and behind a ridge, was the Army of the Seventh Coalition, which contained forces from Great Britain, the Netherlands, Belgium, and Germany, totaling about sixty-seven thousand men. Their commander was the Duke of Wellington, the most successful British general of his generation. An allied Prussian army under Field Marshal Gebhard von Blücher was not far away. To the south across the field were seventy-three thousand French troops commanded by Napoleon Bonaparte.
It had rained heavily and both armies had spent the night miserable and cold in the open fields around Waterloo. The land separating the two armies had become a morass of mud. After dawn, the skies cleared and the sun came out. The British readied themselves, certain that the notably aggressive Napoleon would attack their positions. And then … nothing happened.
As the hours wore on without action, soldiers relaxed, wrote letters, tried to catnap. Among the French forces, word went around that Napoleon was waiting for the fields to dry, in case the mud slowed any attack, particularly one made by artillery or cavalry. This was a perfectly reasonable assumption, except that it wasn’t really like Napoleon. Those who knew him had never seen him slowed by inconveniences like muddy fields. And the longer the delay, the greater chance that von Blücher’s Prussian forces would be able to reinforce Wellington’s troops — the very thing Napoleon wanted to avoid. Many in the French ranks began to ask, what was the matter with the emperor?
THE THREAT TO EUROPE
This confrontation in Belgium represented the culmination of almost two decades of conflict in Europe. War had broken out between France and most of Europe after the French Revolution in 1789. These hostilities had briefly ended in 1802, but under Napoleon, who had seized power in 1799 and had himself proclaimed emperor in 1804, the fighting continued, with most of Europe attempting to check Bonaparte’s attempts to seize more and more territory. Wellington was later to say “France has not enemies. We are the enemies of one man only,” and there is some truth to this. The wars had been fought against Napoleon, not against France.
Wellington was notably successful in his early encounters with the legendary general. Taking control of British, Portuguese, and Spanish forces in the Peninsular War, he ousted Napoleon from Spain and Portugal. Then, in 1814, after Napoleon’s disastrous attack on Russia left the French army at fewer than one hundred thousand men, Coalition armies occupied Paris, and Napoleon was forced to abdicate and surrender unconditionally, on April 11. The Treaty of Fontainebleau exiled him to the tiny Mediterranean isle of Elba. In the wake of Napoleon’s resignation, royalists grabbed power in France and Louis XVIII, brother of Louis XVI, was restored to power, supported by Coalition powers that wanted a stable monarchy in France. Europe breathed a sigh of relief, and most of the armies disbanded.
But not for long. After escaping from Elba on February 26, 1815, Napoleon landed in France, where he was met by a regiment of soldiers sent by Louis XVIII to capture or kill him. These men had previously been Napoleon’s Fifth Regiment and were led by his former subordinate, Marshal Ney. In true Napoleonic fashion, the general leaped off his horse, approached the regiment and cried out: “Soldiers of the Fifth, you recognize me, if any man will shoot his emperor, he may do so now!” The soldiers spontaneously rallied to Napoleon and marched on Paris with him. Louis XVIII fled, and Napoleon, using the same charisma that had brought the Fifth Regiment to his side, raised an army consisting of many of his old imperial soldiers.
It was a time of profound fear and distress among the Coalition powers in Europe, probably not rivaled until the ascendancy of Hitler in the late 1930s. Here was a man many considered a dangerous megalomaniac, returned from what was supposed to be permanent exile, who had, with astonishing swiftness, raised an army of 140,000 men. He needed to be stopped, and immediately, or the very future of Europe was at risk.
As it happened, representatives of Britain, Austria, Prussia, and Russia were meeting in Vienna when the news came that Napoleon had escaped. The swift response of these countries was to assemble another coalition — the seventh to fight Napoleon — and declare war on France on March 25. The intention of the Seventh Coalition was to surround France on all sides, march on Paris, and destroy Napoleon once and for all. But the only force ready to fight was Wellington’s Anglo-allied army in Belgium, although the Prussian force commanded by von Blücher would soon be on its way to join the British commander.
Napoleon, meanwhile, decided to strike at Belgium and capture the port of Brussels. He deployed his army along the French border and sent Marshal Ney to attack the Prussians. After fierce fighting, the French forced von Blücher’s army to retreat — but did not destroy them — and Napoleon brought his army, on the evening of June 17, to the village of Waterloo.
PAINFULLY AFFLICTED
Forty-five years old as the engagement began (just a few months younger than the Duke of Wellington), Napoleon was in a state of odd indecision on the morning of the battle. He arose quite early, having spent the night in a farmhouse, and conferred with his generals over maps. “We have ninety chances in our favor,” he said, “and not ten against us. I tell you Wellington is a bad general, the English are bad troops and the whole affair is nothing more than a picnic.”
But his behavior belied such confident words. After reviewing his troops, he did not give any order to attack and simply brushed off every commander who suggested he do so, giving as his only excuse the fact that the ground was still too muddy to maneuver. Finally, he asked his aides to take him to a small inn at the rear of the lines, where he dismounted his horse and sat on a chair, at one point putting his elbows on his knees and placing his face in his hands. One of his staff officers later wrote that he seemed to be in a stupor.
It began to dawn on those around him that Napoleon was ill, although no one dared ask if he was and he never said so. But years after his death, his brother, Prince Jérôme, and his personal physician, Baron Larrey, revealed that the emperor suffered fiercely from an affliction he found embarrassing to admit to — hemorrhoids, which if aggravated by long periods of sitting on a hard surface, such as a saddle, can became painfully prolapsed. He may have also suffered from cystitis, a bladder infection that makes urinating painful and causes high fevers, and is aggravated by cold, wet conditions. It had struck him before, most notably at the battle of Borodino.
Historians have also speculated that Napoleon, whose formerly taught physique had suddenly become pudgy, suffered from a pituitary disorder, which can cause weight gain, as well as indecisiveness and blurry thinking. Whatever was happening, it wasn’t until around 11:30 a.m. that Napoleon roused himself from his lethargy and ordered that the attack begin with a cannonade.
THE THUNDER OF ARTILLERY
Some Coalition troops later claimed they were relieved that hostilities had finally begun. This was their moment to oust Napoleon, who, to some of the younger troops, had been a bête noire from infancy, a figment of evil used by nursemaids to frighten them. The relief of the troops to finally get the action underway turned to horror, however, as eight- and twelve-pound French cannonballs flew through their ranks, wreaking havoc. One raw British recruit watched his sergeant major literally cut in half by a ball.
But here is where the Duke of Wellington’s foresight came into play. He had personally suggested the ridge amid the farmers’ fields near Waterloo as a place to make a stand against the French, and one of the reasons was the protection offered by its reverse slope. Now, he ordered that all of his men lie down behind it. To the watching French, it looked like the Coalition line, mainly British at its center, had simply disappeared. Although the artillery assault was the worst many British veteran could remember, the ridge was their savior. Most of the cannonballs flew over the men, who tucked themselves as close as possible to the back of the ridgeline, and landed well to the rear. The balls that did most damage were those that hit the top of the ridge and bounced across the supine soldiers.
When the barrage ended, after perhaps half an hour, the Coalition infantry raised their heads.
HALTING THE CHARGE
Even to men half-deaf from gunfire, the sound of the charge was recognizable. First, the rat-tat-rat-tat of drums, then bugles, ragged shouting, and finally, stronger and more unified, the cry “Vive l’Empereur!” — “Long live the Emperor!” When the Coalition forces rushed to reoccupy their lines at the center of the ridge, they saw, coming directly at their left center, three columns of French infantry, each 24 ranks deep and 150 soldiers wide. These were flanked by cavalry on either side. This was the classic and deadly formation of the French Grand Army, the one that had won battles all across Europe: for Napoleon used these shock columns to punch rapidly through enemy lines, destroying all cohesion in a moment.
The French soldiers marched, as one British officer said admiringly, “as if on parade,” directly at the Belgian division commanded by Sir Thomas Picton. Unnerved, the Belgians turned and ran, leaving a great hole in the center of the Coalition lines. But all was not as it seemed in the French ranks. Because of the deafening noise, men could not hear their leaders, and when the other British ranks opened fire, the columns started veering to the right and into a row of double hedges. Here, Picton had stationed the only men he had left, a troop of Scottish infantry, and he ordered them to attack just as a French bullet struck him and killed him instantly.
The Scots opened up from in front of the hedges, three thousand rifles pouring a volley into the French columns at close range. The French outnumbered the Scots many times over, but because of their column formation could not bring as many rifles to bear in reply. Next, the two forces hit each other, hard, and the combat turned into hundreds of deadly hand-to-hand melees in the swirling smoke, fought with rifle butt, saber, pike, and fists. Then, as the French wavered, there came an amazing sight: leaping the hedges, as if in a steeplechase, the British cavalry arrived, led by the Scots Greys, in a charge that utterly destroyed the French advance.
ON THE RUN
Heavy fighting now swirled around three isolated farmhouses and their outbuildings — Hougoumont, La Haye Sainte, and Papelotte — which were ready-made defensive positions. At about three in the afternoon, Napoleon sent Marshal Ney to capture La Haye Sainte and after a bloody fight, the French infantry managed to tear it from British hands. French artillery was then emplaced there, aiming directly at the Coalition-held ridge. But when Ney asked for backup, Napoleon said he had none to spare. For arriving on the French right were the Prussian forces under von Blücher. These were the reinforcements Wellington had needed and prayed for. Napoleon was appalled, for a force under one of his commanders, the Marquis de Grouchy, was supposed to have blocked these troops; but Grouchy had failed, allowing himself to be held up by other Prussians in a pitched battle at nearby Wavre while von Blücher made his way to Wellington.
Napoleon sent one last roaring attack of his elite forces, the Imperial Guard, against the Coalition-held ridge. But while some managed to break through, the rest were overwhelmed and began to flee. Seeing this elite corps on the run, the French lines broke, pursued by the Coalition cavalry. Napoleon’s army was now in flight and Napoleon himself, bitter, broken, and ill, retreated with it to Paris.
The Duke of Wellington later said of the battle that it was “the nearest-run thing you ever saw in your life.”
FINAL EXILE
On the battlefield that night lay forty thousand men, dead and horribly wounded. The subsequent looting has passed into legend. Ghoulish Belgian peasants stripped thousands of dead men bare, while Coalition soldiers wandered through the night, sometimes even robbing and killing their own. Officers, with their purses and gilded swords, were especially good sources of booty. The French wounded could expect no aid, and died, screaming for water.
The very next day, Belgian civilian sightseers came out to wander the battlefield, holding handkerchiefs over their noses against the unpleasant smell. They knew that Napoleon had finally been defeated here, this time for good, and that therefore history had been made.
Napoleon managed to escape from the battlefield, pursued by Coalition forces. With defeat inevitable, he abdicated, then tried to flee to the United States, but was captured by the British and forced to surrender aboard a British warship on July 15. The ailing general was exiled once again, this time far away, to the tiny South Atlantic island of St. Helena, where he was to die in 1821, possibly poisoned, possibly, finally, a victim of the many ailments that had begun to plague him at Waterloo.
Europe had been saved, but the political effects of the battle of Waterloo would be long-lasting. Horrified by the way in which Napoleon’s reemergence from Elba had once more stoked the fires of rebellion, Europe’s leading powers became fiercely conservative. Signs of social change and moves toward democracy were quickly stamped out. Traditional monarchies were restored and bolstered across the continent, nationalist and republican movements quashed.
Supporters of the old order well knew how close they had come to catastrophe. As the Duke of Wellington said of the battle of Waterloo itself, it was “the nearest-run thing you ever saw in your life.”