The Duke, apparently quite refreshed by his short nap, sat down to write letters. ‘Pray keep the English quiet if you can,’ he wrote to Sir Charles Stuart. ‘Let them all be prepared to move, but neither be in a hurry nor a fright, as all will yet turn out well.’
But his lordship had not forgotten the bugbear of his right wing. Only a few hours earlier, he had sent orders to General Colville, at Braine-le-Comte, to retire upon Hal, and had instructed Prince Frederick to defend the position between Hal and Enghien for as long as possible. It was his opinion that Bonaparte’s best strategy would be to outflank him, and seize Brussels by a coup de main. ‘Il se peut que l’ennemi nous tourne par Hal,’ he wrote to the Duc de Berri. ‘Si cela arrive, je prie votre Altesse Royale de marcher sur Anvers et de vous cantonner dans le voisinage.’
His lordship found time to send a note to his Brussels flirt, too. His indefatigable pen warned that her family ought to make preparations to leave Brussels, but added: ‘I will give you the earliest intimation of any danger that may come to my knowledge. At present I know of none.’
His letters all written and despatched, his final dispositions checked, the Duke sent for his shaving water; and Thornhill, his phlegmatic cook, began to prepare breakfast. His lordship was notoriously indifferent to the food he ate (he had, in fact, once consumed a bad egg at breakfast before one of his battles in Spain, merely remarking in a preoccupied tone, when he had finished it: ‘By the by, Fitzroy, is that egg of yours fresh? for mine was quite rotten’), but Thornhill had his pride to consider, and might be trusted to concoct a palatable meal out of the most unpromising materials.
Just before the Duke left his Headquarters, a lieutenant of hussars rode into Waterloo at a gallop, and flung himself out of the saddle at the door of the little inn. His gay dress was generously splattered with mud, but Colonel Audley, leaning against the doorpost, had no difficulty in recognising an officer of his own regiment, and hailed him immediately: ‘Hallo! Where are you from?’
The lieutenant saluted. ‘Lindsay, sir, of Captain Taylor’s squadron on picket duty at Smohain. Message for his lordship from General Bülow!’
‘Come in, then. What’s the news at the front?’
‘Nothing much our way, sir. It’s stopped raining, but there’s a heavy mist lying on the ground. Captain Taylor saw two corps of French cavalry, in close column, dismounted, within a carbine shot of our vedettes, and a patrol of heavy cavalry moving off to the east: to feel for the Prussians, he supposed. Captain Taylor had just moved our squadron into Smohain village when a Prussian officer with a patrol arrived with the news that General Bülow’s corps was advancing and was three-quarters of a league distant. Captain Taylor sent me off at once with the intelligence.’
‘You’ll be welcome,’ said the Colonel, and handed him over to Lord Fitzroy.
The Duke set out to join the Army at an early hour, and was accompanied by a numerous suite. In addition to his aides-de-camp a brilliant corps diplomatique rode with him, in all the splendour of their various uniforms. Prussia, Austria, Spain, the Netherlands, and little Sardinia were represented in the persons of Barons Müffling and Vincent, Generals Pozzo di Borgo and Alava, Counts van Reede and D’Aglié, and their satellites. Orders and gold lace glittered and plumes waved about his lordship, a neat plain figure, mounted on a hollow-backed horse of little beauty and few manners.
The Duke whom his troops had christened Beau Douro, was dressed, with his usual care and complete absence of ostentation, in a blue frock, short blue cloak, white pantaloons, and tasselled hessians. The only touch of dandyism he affected was a white cravat instead of a black stock. His low-crowned cocked hat had no plume, but bore beside the black cockade of England, three smaller ones in the colours of Portugal, Spain, and the Netherlands. He held his telescope in his hand, and sat an ugly horse with no particular grace.
His lordship cared nothing for the appearance of his horse. ‘There may be faster horses, no doubt many handsomer,’ he said, ‘but for bottom and endurance I never saw his fellow.’ Indeed, he had paid a long price for Copenhagen, and had used him continually in Spain. He was an unpleasant brute to ride, but he seemed to delight in going into action, and evinced far more delight at the sight of troops than the troops felt at his too near approach. ‘Take care of that there ’orse! We know him!’ said the Peninsular veterans, keeping wary eyes on his powerful hindquarters. ‘’E kicks out!’
The position which the Allied Army had taken up on the previous night was some two miles south of Waterloo, before the village of Mont St Jean, and immediately in rear of the hollow road which led westward from Wavre to the village of Braine-l’Alleud. The ground had been surveyed the preceding year, and a map drawn of it, and although it was not perhaps ideal, it possessed one feature at least which commended it to the Duke. It fell away in a gentle declivity to the north, which enabled his lordship to keep all but the front lines of his troops out of sight of the enemy. The hollow road, which dipped in some places between steep, hedge-crowned banks, was intersected by the chaussée leading from Brussels to Charleroi, and, farther west, by the main road from Nivelles, which joined the chaussée at Mont St Jean. In itself it nearly everywhere constituted the front line of the position, but there were several outposts, like bastions, dotted along the position. On the extreme left there were the farm of Ter La Haye, and the village of Papelotte, occupied by Prince Bernhard of Saxe-Weimar’s Nassau troops. On the left centre, situated three hundred yards south of the hollow road, upon the western side of the Charleroi chaussée, was La Haye Sainte, a semi-fortified farm, with a garden and orchard attached; and on the right, where the hollow road took a southerly bend before crossing the Nivelles highway, was the château and wood of Hougoument, whose main gate gave on to the short avenue leading to the Nivelles road, down which, so short a time before, Lady Worth had driven in an open barouche, on an expedition of pleasure.
The country was undulating, and to the east of the Charleroi road a valley separated the Allied front line from the ridge, where, as soon as day broke, French troops could be seen assembling. To the west of the chaussée, the banks of the hollow road became less steep; behind Hougoumont, and overlooking it, was a high plateau, bounded on the right by the ravine through which the Nivelles road ran. Across this road, another plateau was occupied by Lord Hill’s Corps, drawn back en potence, and occupying the villages of Braine-l’Alleud and Merbe Braine.
The Army, retreating to this position through the storm of the previous afternoon, had spent a miserable night, exposed to a downpour that turned the ground into a bog, saturated coats and blankets, and streamed through the canvas tents. Straw, beanstalks, sheaves of rye and barley had been collected by the men to form mattresses, but nothing could keep the wet out. Gunners sought shelter under the gun carriages; infantrymen huddled together under the lee of hedges, and many, abandoning all attempt to sleep, sat round the campfires, deriving what comfort they could from their pipes, and a comparison of these conditions with those endured in Spain. Peninsular veterans assured the Johnny Newcomes that the miseries they were undergoing were as nothing to the sufferings met with in the Pyrenees. One or two recalled the retreat of Sir John Moore’s army upon Corunna, till the raw recruits, listening wide-eyed to the description of forced marches, barefoot over mountain passes deep in snow, began to feel that they were not so very badly off after all. No rations had been served out overnight, but quite a number of skinny fowls had been looted by seasoned campaigners, and were broiled in kettles over the campfires.
The rain ceased shortly before daybreak, but the atmosphere was vapoury, and heavy with damp. Men got up from their sodden beds shaking as though with ague, their garments clammy over their numb bodies, and their teeth rattling in their heads with a chill that seemed to have penetrated into their very bones. A double allowance of gin served out at dawn helped to bring a little warmth to them, but there were some who, lying down exhausted the night before, did not wake in the morning.
The v
icious spitting of musketry had sounded up and down the line of pickets at intervals during the night, but with the daylight a general popping began, as the men fired their pieces in the air to clean the barrels of rust. The vedettes and the sentries were withdrawn; optimists declared the weather to be fairing up; old soldiers became busy drying their clothes and cleaning their arms; young soldiers stared over the dense mist in the valley to the ridge where the French were beginning to show themselves.
At five o’clock, drums, bugles, and trumpets all along the two-mile front sounded the Assembly. Staff officers were seen galloping in every direction; brigades began to move into their positions: here a regiment of Light Dragoons changed ground; there a battalion of blue-coated Dutch-Belgians marched along the hollow road with their quick, swinging step; or a troop of horse artillery thundered over the ground to a position in the front line. A breakfast of stir-about was served to the men; a detachment of riflemen, posted in a sandpit on the left side of the Charleroi road, immediately south of its junction with the hollow road, began to make an abattis across the chaussée with branches of trees.
A tumbledown cottage on the main road, between Mont St Jean and the hollow way, had been occupied during the night by the Colonel of the 95th Rifles, and some of his officers and men had kindled a fire against one of its walls, and had boiled a huge camp kettle full of tea, milk, and sugar over it. The Duke stopped there for a cup of this sticky beverage on his way from Waterloo; and Colonel Audley, standing beside his horse, and also sipping tea from a pannikin, found himself accosted by Captain Kincaid, whose invincible gaiety did not seem to have been in the least impaired by a night spent in the pouring rain. He had slept soundly, waking to find his clothes drenched and his horse, which he had tethered to a sword stuck in the ground, gone.
‘Just drew his sword, and marched off!’ he said. ‘Did you ever hear of an adjutant going into action without his horse? You might as well go without your arms.’
‘Johnny, you crazy coot!’ the Colonel exclaimed, laughing.
‘How was I to know the brute had no proper feeling towards me? He’s a low fellow: I found him hobnobbing half a mile off with a couple of artillery horses.’
‘You know, you have the luck of the devil!’ the Colonel told him.
‘I have, haven’t I? You’d have said I might as well have looked for a needle in a haystack as for one horse in this mob. Have some more tea? That kettle of ours ought to get its brevet for devotion to duty. It has supplied everyone of the bigwigs with tea, from the Duke downwards.’
‘No, I won’t have any more. Where are you stationed?’
‘Oh, right in the forefront! Our 2nd and 3rd Battalions have been drafted to General Adam, and I believe are over there, on the right wing,’ replied Kincaid, with an airy gesture to the west. ‘But the rest of us are going to occupy a snug sandpit, and the knoll behind it, on the chaussée, opposite to La Haye Sainte. I’ve had a look at the position: we shall have our right resting on the chaussée and as far as I can see we ought to get the brunt of whatever the French mean to give us.’
‘Well, that’ll give you something to brag about,’ said the Colonel, handing over his empty pannikin. ‘Good luck to you, Johnny!’
At nine o’clock, the Duke rode from end to end of the position, inspecting the disposition of the troops and making final alterations. There being as yet no sign of the Prussians advancing from the east, two brigades of light cavalry, Sir Hussey Vivian’s hussars and Sir John Vandeleur’s dragoons, had been posted to guard the left flank until the Prussians should arrive to relieve them. On Vandeleur’s right, Prince Bernhard of Saxe-Weimar’s brigade of Nassau and Orange-Nassau troops held the advance posts of Papelotte and Ter La Haye. Behind him, Vincke’s and Best’s Hanoverians were ranged. Next came Pack’s Highlanders, a skeleton of the brigade which had marched out of Brussels on June 15th; and Kempt’s almost equally depleted 8th Brigade. These troops, with Vincke’s Landwehr battalions, made up the 5th Division under Sir Thomas Picton, and occupied the left centre of the line. In support, some way behind the line, on the downward slope of the ground to the rear, Sir William Ponsonby’s Union Brigade of English, Scots, and Irish dragoons was drawn up, with Ghigny’s brigade of light cavalry some little way behind them. The hollow road, at this point, dipped between steep banks, crowned on the northern side by straggling hedges which afforded cover for the division. On the southern slope of the bank, closing the interval between Pack’s right and Kempt’s left, was placed Count Bylandt’s brigade of Dutch-Belgians, in an uncomfortably exposed position, looking across the valley to the ridge occupied by the French. Kempt’s right lay in the angle formed by the chaussée and the hollow road from Wavre. The 1st Battalion of the 95th Rifles was attached to the brigade, and their light troops were posted in a sandpit almost opposite La Haye Sainte, and on the knoll behind it, considerably in advance of the line.
La Haye Sainte itself, situated three hundred yards south of the crossroad, abutted directly on to the chaussée and was occupied by the 2nd Light Battalion of Ompteda’s Germans, under Major Baring. Beyond its white walls and blue-tiled roof, the main Charleroi road descended into the valley, and rose again to where, on the southern ridge, the farm of La Belle Alliance could be seen from the Allied line.
The chaussée, cutting through the centre of the Allied line, separated Picton’s division from Sir Charles Alten’s, drawn up to the west of it. Colonel von Ompteda’s brigade of the King’s German Legion lay with its left against the chaussée, and with La Haye Sainte in its immediate front; next came Count Kielmansegg’s Hanoverian line battalions; and, west of them, where the hollow road began to curve southwards, was Sir Colin Halkett’s brigade of one Highland and three English regiments. From Halkett’s right, to where the Nivelles road crossed the hollow way, the ground was strongly held by Cooke’s division of British Guards occupying the high ground behind and overlooking the château of Hougoumont. Seven companies of the Coldstream, under Sir James Macdonnell, had been thrown into the château, and had been busy all night strengthening the fortifications; while the four light companies of the division, under Lord Saltoun, were spent forward as skirmishers into the wood and orchard.
In the triangle of ground formed by the junction, at Mont St Jean, of the two great highways from Charleroi and Nivelles, a number of cavalry brigades were massed behind the infantry, and out of sight of the enemy. In rear of Ompteda, and separated from the Union Brigade of heavy cavalry only by the chaussée, was Lord Edward Somerset’s heavy brigade of Household Cavalry: Life Guards, Dragoons and Blues, in magnificent array. Behind them, in reserve, was Baron Collaert’s Dutch-Belgic cavalry division, comprising a brigade of carabiniers, under General Trip; and a brigade of light cavalry under Baron van Merlen. Immediately to the rear of Kielmansegg were General Kruse’s Nassau troops, in reserve, with Colonel Arentschildt’s light dragoons and hussars of the legion supporting them; and, lying against the Nivelles road, considerably withdrawn from the front, was the Brunswick contingent. Upon the plateau behind the Guards’ division were posted Major-General Dörnberg’s light dragoons; a Hanoverian regiment known as the Cumberland Hussars; and Major-General Grant’s hussar brigade, which lay directly behind Byng’s Guards, against the Nivelles road, overlooking the ravine running north of Merbe Braine, and the plateau beyond.
On this plateau, drawn back en potence to guard the right flank of the line, was Lord Hill’s Second Army Corps. Of this corps, Sir Henry Clinton’s division occupied the ground nearest to the highway, Adam’s brigade being drawn up immediately to the west of it. The village of Merbe Braine, nestling to the north behind a belt of trees, was occupied by Hew Halkett’s brigade of Hanoverian militia, and Colonel Du Plat’s line battalions of the legion. Some way to the west, Baron Chassé’s Dutch-Belgic division was stationed round Braine-l’Alleud, Colonel Detmer’s brigade occupying the village itself and Count d’Aubremée’s brigade being posted to the south-west, round the farm of Vieux Foriez, as an observation corps
. Of General Colville’s 4th Division, eight miles away at Hal with Prince Frederick’s corps, only one brigade was present, Colonel Mitchell’s which was formed on the west of the Nivelles road, covering the avenue which led to the great north gate of Hougoumont.
Attached to the divisions and the cavalry brigades were brigades and troops of artillery, those in front line being placed in the intervals of the infantry brigades, and slightly in advance of them. Rogers’s brigade and Ross’s Chestnut Troop guarded the Charleroi chaussée; Whinyates was attached to the Union Brigade with his rockets; Gardiner was Vivian’s hussars; Stevenart’s heroic battery with Prince Bernhard’s Nassauers; Rettberg before Best; Byleveld with Count Bylandt’s brigade; while, west of the chaussée, in front of Alten’s and Cooke’s divisions, were ranged Cleeve’s and Kuhlmann’s German batteries, Bean’s, Webber-Smith’s, Ramsay’s and Bull’s brigades and troops, each with six guns, manned by eighty or more gunners and drivers, half a dozen bombardiers, and the usual complement of sergeants, corporals, farriers, and trumpeters. Each troops came up in sub-divisions, an impressive cavalcade with two hundred horses, and a train of forge carts, spare-wheel carriages and extra-ammunition wagons. Every horse was brought on to the field in the pink of condition, his flanks plumped out with plundered forage. A hard life, the artillery officer’s, for while, on the one hand, plundering was strictly forbidden by the Duke, on the other, the allowance of forage was insufficient to put the fat on the horses which his lordship demanded. ‘Either way you quake in your shoes,’ declared Captain Mercer bitterly. ‘Bring your troop on to the ground with your beasts a shade thinner than the next man’s, and that damned cold eye of the Duke’s will see the difference in a flash. You won’t be asked questions about it, and if you try to defend yourself you won’t be attended to. You’ll be judged out of hand as unfit for your command, and very likely removed from the Army as well. But if you plunder the poor foreigner’s fields, and he reports you to the Duke—whew!’