CHAPTER XII.
THE CLOSE OF THE PENINSULAR WAR.

Any one who has read a great number of letters from the Peninsula must often have been struck by the marked difference between those written by young officers and those by their seniors. The older men were often despondent in times of hardship, and were generally critical of the actions of those in command; while the subalterns and younger captains seem to have been ever in high spirits, and bubbling over with youth and gaiety. There is no doubt that, as far as regimental officers were concerned, this matter of youth put an immense amount of dash into all the operations undertaken, and inspired the soldiers with courage as well as with confidence. And it is not too much to say that an army officered by a preponderance of middle-aged men would have taken twice as long to rid northern Spain of the French. The human factor in warfare is usually overlooked by the casual reader of military history; he knows the characteristics of the chief commanders in a campaign; he knows such well-worn theories as Napoleon's presence on a battlefield being equivalent to forty thousand men; but otherwise he regards battalions as composed of officers and men all turned out of the same mould—of like temperament, of like age, and of like physique.

Now, if a study were made of the average ages of British regimental officers in the several campaigns of the hundred years ending 1908, it would probably be found that they varied very considerably, and it might be interesting to discover whether the ages of the officers affected the "go" of the campaign one way or the other. But, as concerns the Peninsular army, it is an undoubted fact that regimental officers were far younger than they have ever been since. As a rule, an officer was a captain within six years of joining his regiment, and, unless unfortunate, a major within another six years, while, with any luck, he obtained the command of his regiment before he was much over thirty years of age. Napier gives many instances: Lieut.-Colonel Charles Macleod, who was killed at the head of the 43rd in the breach at Badajoz, had not reached his 27th year; Lieut.-Colonel Thomas Lloyd fell leading the 94th at the battle of Nivelle, at the age of thirty; Sir William Napier himself was only twenty-nine when he finished his last campaign, and his brother, Sir George, was but a year older at the close of the Peninsular War; Sir John Colborne (Lord Seaton) considered himself a most unlucky man in not having obtained the command of a regiment until he was thirty-two; and many other cases might be cited of the youth of the senior officers of regiments. These were the men who led their battalions to victory after victory, and their subordinates were for the most part mere boys. Many fought through the Peninsular War while still in their teens, and Colborne affirmed that, when he was commanding the 66th, he was the only officer of the regiment over twenty-five years of age. We know that young Mainwaring, of the 51st, aged fourteen, was leading the veterans of the regiment at Fuentes d'Onor, and we have his own word for it, that when he entered Madrid with the victorious army he was so young that the gaieties of the city failed to amuse him, and that he preferred to spend his evenings quietly with the old Spanish couple upon whom he was billeted. And most regiments, doubtless, had ensigns as young as Mainwaring.

We of to-day naturally question the value of such youthful officers—lads who nowadays would be in the ranks of their school cadet corps. Yet it is an extraordinary fact that these boys commanded men often old enough to be their fathers, and were followed by them with the greatest devotion. Sir William Napier writes of one of his subalterns, Edward Freer, killed at the battle of the Nivelle, that, though only a lieutenant, he "was rich in honour, for he bore many scars and was young of days. He was only nineteen, but had seen more combats and sieges than he could count years. Slight in person, and of such surpassing and delicate beauty that the Spaniards often thought him a girl disguised in man's clothing, he was yet so vigorous, so active, so brave, that the most daring and experienced veterans watched his looks on the field of battle, and would obey his slightest sign in the most difficult situations.... He was pierced with three balls at the first storming of the Rhune rocks, and the sternest soldiers in the regiment wept even in the middle of the fight when they heard of his fate."

There is no shadow of doubt that, young as they were, the regimental officers of this period, taken as a whole, knew their business thoroughly; that is to say, the commanding officer could handle his regiment with skill, and the captains and subalterns were expert company officers both in the field and in quarters. The majority of them possessed initiative, and in the fight seldom made a mistake or missed an opportunity. Their school was war, and in that rough-and-ready school they picked up all that they knew, for few of them, except those who had been trained under Sir John Moore at Shorncliffe, had learned anything of soldiering before they landed in the Peninsula. Even the most hypercritical of modern writers must admit that the officer of a hundred years ago performed the duties of the rank for which he drew pay well and truly and to the best of his ability. And what more, it may be asked, can be expected of any one? Certainly the State had no cause for complaint that it was not getting good value for its money, for it paid its infantry captains no more than ten shillings and sixpence a-day, and its ensigns half that sum, for doing their duty nobly, for undermining their constitutions through exposure, privation, and hardships, and for risking their lives for days, weeks, months, and years on end. They were practical, fighting soldiers; but there have arisen modern critics who say of them that their minds were small and undeveloped, because they were not students of the military art, because they had not read military history and therefore did not realise that history is always repeating itself, and because such things as strategy and grand tactics were outside their sphere of thought. We do not deny that if these officers were aiming at something higher than regimental soldiering, there is a measure of sense in these criticisms; but we would point out that, except in the case of one or two senior officers in each regiment, there had been no time for the study of books; for if we accept the statement that captains and subalterns were under twenty-five years of age at the close of the Peninsular War, and that most of them had been on active service practically from the day they joined, we fail to see when they could have read military history. And, even if they had had leisure to read such works on military history as were available a hundred years ago, there is no reason to suppose that their duties, as simple regimental officers, would have been performed the better. Afterwards many of them went to High Wycombe (Staff College) to continue their study of the art of war, the practical part of which they had already learned, and it was not found that their experience of war had in any way impaired their reasoning powers.

But in the Peninsula, youth and ignorance of military history do not appear to have interfered with successful leading, and he who delights to read of gallant deeds will find, in the accounts of the various fights, scores of episodes in which boy officers set brilliant examples to their men, and by their valour at a critical moment often saved the day. Such were the leaders of Forlorn Hopes and of similar desperate enterprises, and it would seem as if these lads must have matured much more rapidly than do the boys of the present age. Yet it may be that the rank and file were so magnificent that, at ordinary times, they were capable of being driven with a silken thread. That the soldiers, in spite of Wellington's dictum as to their being "the scum of the earth," were magnificent, is certain, and it is equally certain that they were devoted to their officers. There is scarcely a regiment in the army whose history does not record some gallant act performed by a soldier to save the life of an officer; and these rugged veterans went out of their way to show kindness to the boy subalterns in times of sickness or of hardship.

It may be thought that, with older officers, the frequent outbreaks of indiscipline which sullied the good name of Wellington's soldiers might have been avoided. But who can say whether the great captain would have benefited in the long-run? Occasionally his operations were delayed by the marauding and drunkenness of his troops, but there is no proof that his plans ever broke down owing to the youth of his regimental officers, and he never appears to have complained that they were too young, though he may have hinted that a few of his generals were too old, for some of them were ten years older than himself.[74] But it may seem extraordinary that officers of the army as a whole should have been so young towards the end of the Peninsular War, for one has always imagined that, under the Purchase System, promotion was remarkably slow. Still, the wastage produced by the long war was enormous; deaths, wounds, and disease ploughed deep into the commissioned ranks; and to keep up the supply of officers was no easy matter. Officers, captains as well as subalterns, were transferred from the militia to the regular army;[75] from time to time non-commissioned officers were promoted ensigns, for good service in the field; but the majority of commissions were given to cadets of the Royal Military College,[76] at the average age of fifteen, or to boys, equally young, appointed direct to regiments.

The loss of twelve officers and seventy-two men (killed or wounded), in the fighting of the 31st August, reduced the strength of the 51st woefully, and it was one of the regiments which could least afford such a depletion, since it was in the unfortunate situation of having no second battalion in England upon which to fall back for reinforcements of officers and men. Most regiments in the field had a second battalion at home, ready to make good the casualties in the foreign battalion as they occurred, but the fate of the 51st had been against its ever having been able to recruit a second battalion. The 68th, also, with which the 51st had been brigaded for the greater part of the war, was suffering from the same cause, and so reduced in numbers were the two regiments that it became a great question what to do with them. The regiments themselves were for linking up and forming themselves into what was termed a "provisional battalion," and Wellington agreed to the proposal; but the authorities at home, refusing to sanction anything of the kind, informed Wellington that, if he deemed it necessary, he could send the regiments home to recruit up to strength. But the Commander-in-Chief had no intention of parting with any of his tried soldiers, and he preferred weak battalions of veterans to full ones of recruits, so the 51st and 68th remained with Inglis's brigade of the 7th Division, to fight the war to a finish.

After the fall of San Sebastian, the 51st recrossed to the right bank of the Bidassoa and occupied its former position near Santa Barbara, facing Vera. Here it remained throughout the month of September, and early in October moved to Echallar, to await the development of Wellington's plans. Major Rice, who had been kept in England after the expiration of his sick leave, because the authorities thought that Wellington would send the regiment home, now rejoined, in the best of health and spirits, though disappointed at having missed the three months' fighting in which his regiment had taken part. He saw, however, that he was still in time to take his share of plenty of rough work; and so it proved.

Wellington, having driven the French out of northern Spain into the Pyrenees, at first had no intention of following them into France, his reasons being that Napoleon might at any moment send reinforcements to Soult, and that a French army (under Suchet) was still in possession of the Mediterranean province of Catalonia, in eastern Spain. With Suchet in his rear, his position was insecure; and if large reinforcements were despatched to Soult, the allied army might fare badly, although the proximity of the sea-base rendered disaster impossible. When, therefore, San Sebastian fell, Wellington inclined to transfer the war to Catalonia, but political pressure from home and the news of Napoleon's misfortunes in Germany combined to cause him to change his plans, when, as Napier says, he "matured an offensive movement as daring as any undertaken during the whole war"—in short, an assault on Soult's whole line of fortifications in the Pyrenees, and the invasion of France.

Between the opposing armies the Bidassoa flowed from Vera to the sea; but to the north and north-east of Vera there was no such well-marked dividing line—only the labyrinth of rocky spurs and ravines which seamed the mountain-slopes. Wellington's plan was to advance simultaneously on the right and on the left, the troops on the right storming Soult's fortified posts among the mountains, while those on the left forced the passage of the Lower Bidassoa. These operations were to have commenced ill the middle of September, but, owing to faulty arrangements in the matter of pontoons and subsequently to bad weather, they were deferred until the 6th October. That night everything was got ready, and at daybreak next morning Wellington's carefully laid plans were set going, their extraordinary boldness altogether deceiving Soult.

Under the protection of a heavy cannonade from San Marcial and the neighbourhood, the divisions on the left forded the Lower Bidassoa at several points almost before the French had fired a shot, and, turning the enemy out of his positions, crossed the frontier into France. At the same time, the Light Division advancing on Vera, and thence up the mountain-slopes, carried position after position with astounding impetuosity; while, farther away on the right, the 7th Division and others guarded the Echallar pass and various roads and tracks through the mountains. Desultory fighting went on upon the crests of the Pyrenees during the next two days, after which Wellington called a halt, and from his headquarters at Vera reorganised the commands of his army. Hill was given the right, from Roncesvalles to the Bastan; Beresford the centre, which included Echallar, where the 7th Division was posted; and Hope the left, from the Mandale mountain to the sea. Tents were brought up, and the troops encamped on their several positions, eagerly awaiting the order to move forward; but Wellington had not yet decided finally whether to invade France or to move back into Spain and carry the war into Catalonia. A month was thus spent, in the most inclement weather, on the summits of the bleak Pyrenees, and the allied army suffered great hardships, some of the posts being at times snowed up and cut off from provisions. Fortunately they were provided with tents—though they were a cold comfort; nevertheless, the shelter which they afforded was certainly preferable to bivouacs among the rocks.

Prior to the opening of the campaign of 1813, regiments had been unacquainted with the luxury of canvas, and it is wonderful how they managed to exist for so many years in such variations of climate. Whenever possible, the troops were billeted in the towns, villages, and farms; but when actually in the field the bivouac was resorted to, and as time went on the old soldiers became adepts at making themselves comfortable, in shelters formed of boughs of trees, or even in hastily constructed huts, when halting in the more wooded parts of the country. In 1812, tents were improvised out of blankets, two of which were fastened together by tapes sewn on to the sides, and then stretched over a pole supported by the arm piles; but these provided shelter for only four men, who, moreover, had but two blankets among them in which to sleep. The whole matter was one of transport, and Wellington had always refused to allow the movements of his army to be hampered by excessive baggage. By this time, however, the medical officers had learnt by experience that much of the sickness of the army was attributable to exposure, and the authorities at length sanctioned the issue of four tents per company, three for the men and one for the officers, but their carriage was not to entail any increase in the number of transport animals. Hitherto the company mules carried nothing except the heavy iron camp-kettles, or cauldrons, but now these were exchanged for lighter ones of tin, which the men (six to a kettle) took it in turn to carry on their knapsacks, while the mules carried the tents.

Meanwhile, Soult had taken advantage of the inaction of his foe, and had caused to be thrown up a complete chain of entrenchments, some thirty miles long, covering St Jean de Luz on his right, and extending along the course of the Nivelle to its upper waters, whence the left of his line stretched eastward to the river Nive. The centre was guarded by outworks, erected about the Smaller Rhune and Sarre, to the east of the Greater Rhune; and so strong was this vast line that the most careful reconnaissances could discover scarcely a single weak spot in it.

At length Wellington made up his mind to move on into France, for he had now learned that Suchet would not co-operate with Soult, and he had learned also that Napoleon had met with successes in Germany. The time, therefore, was opportune to attack Soult, and to delay might result in his opponent receiving reinforcements from Napoleon. The British commander arrived at this decision early in November, and on the 9th issued his orders. His plan was to strike at the French centre, cross the Nivelle at the bridge of Amotz, and attempt to divide Soult's force. Before any general advance could be made, however, it was necessary to clear the foreground by capturing the outworks in the Pyrenees, and the Light Division, still in position about the Greater Rhune, facing the strongly fortified Smaller Rhune, not a mile distant, was ordered to push forward on the morrow. This the regiments of the famous division did in the most gallant manner, thus opening what was known as the battle of the Nivelle, and sweeping the Frenchmen from their fortified posts at the point of the bayonet.

The strength of the enemy's right determined Wellington to make no immediate advance on that side, but to bring round Hill's and Beresford's divisions in a species of gigantic wheel, so as to cross the Nivelle above and below the bridge of Amotz, and cut Soult's army in two. While, therefore, the Light Division was fighting its way through the enemy's advanced works, the 4th and 7th Divisions were sent against the forts of San Barbe and Grenada. It was a day of grand work, but we can do no more than follow the fortunes of the 51st, in Inglis's brigade of the 7th Division.

By a stroke of luck for Major Sam Rice, Colonel Mitchell had been placed on the sick list at Echallar, and the command of the regiment devolved on the major, who soon showed that he was equal to the responsibility. From the mouth of the Echallar pass, the 7th Division advanced rapidly on the Grenada fort, which covered the village of Sarre, while the 4th Division moved against the neighbouring fort of San Barbe, the regiments carrying scaling-ladders, wherewith, if necessary, to storm the works. Such aids, however, were not needed, for the defenders, powerless to withstand the fire of the eighteen British guns which accompanied the attack, fled from the forts, and though they stood for a while at Sarre, they soon broke before the determined onslaught of the pursuers. The victorious divisions, as they forged ahead, presently found themselves confronted by two redoubts, Louis XIV. and Harastaguia. The former was immediately stormed and carried at the point of the bayonet, and attention was then paid to the latter, in front of which the 31st French Regiment had been placed as a covering force. Upon this unfortunate regiment the 7th Division fell forthwith, breaking it and putting it to the rout, and driving the garrison from the redoubt—even to the banks of the Nivelle.

The French, pursued vigorously by the 4th and 7th Divisions, crossed the river by the various bridges, and took up positions on the heights above St Pé, whereupon Wellington, halting the other divisions, pushed the 3rd and the 7th across the river against Maransin's French division, which stood its ground and fought desperately. "After a hard struggle, in which General Inglis was wounded, and the 51st and 68th Regiments were handled very roughly,"[77] the attack succeeded, and Maransin's troops were put to flight. Thus, at nightfall, when darkness put an end to the fight, the British had established themselves in rear of the French right, and Wellington had reason to be proud of the valour of his troops. In his despatch he included the following: "I likewise particularly observed the gallant conduct of the 51st and 68th Regiments under command of Major Rice and Lieut.-Colonel Hawkins, in Major-General Inglis's brigade, in the attack of the heights above St Pé, in the afternoon of the 10th." On this day the 51st lost two officers and twenty-two men killed, two officers and seventy-three men wounded, and one officer (Captain Phelps) taken prisoner. "Major Rice," says the 'Records of the 51st Regiment,' "commanding the regiment on this occasion in the absence of Colonel Mitchell, detained at Echallar by sickness, was rewarded for his bravery by a lieutenant-colonelcy and the Gold Medal."

The Peninsular Gold Medal was a much-coveted decoration, for it was given sparingly, and only to selected officers, for certain engagements. No officer could claim the right to receive it, but as the war progressed regulations were issued from time to time, and recommendations for the decoration were restricted to certain ranks for the satisfactory performance of certain duties. It must be remembered that, at the commencement of the Peninsular War, medals were almost unknown in the British army. A few had been struck to commemorate great naval victories, but they were bestowed at first only on the chief commanders, though towards the close of the eighteenth century a wider distribution was made to the navy and marines. Soldiers, however, knew nothing of medals, and even Sir John Moore, with all his war service, died without ever having received a medal.[78] The suggestion of granting medals to officers engaged in the war in the Peninsula probably came from Sir Arthur Wellesley, who had recently come from India, where the Honourable East India Company was accustomed to issue medals to all its native troops for the various Indian wars. Gold medals in two sizes were therefore struck and granted to senior officers, the larger medals being given to generals and the smaller to other officers, as a rule not below the rank of major. On one side of the medal was the name of the action for which it was granted, and on the principle of bis dat qui cito dat, the medals were distributed as soon as possible after the action, being sent out for the purpose to the seat of war.

As time went on senior officers began to accumulate many medals, since they received one for each great battle or siege; and the authorities deemed it advisable to issue no more than one medal to an officer, engraving upon it subsequently the names of all the general actions at which he was present. Presently a fresh difficulty arose: the actions became too numerous to admit of their names being engraved on the limited space of the medal; so, eventually, in 1813, regulations concerning the issue of gold medals were finally approved. It was then laid down that an officer should wear only one gold medal, upon which should be engraved the first action in which he was engaged; that for the second and third action he should receive gold clasps, inscribed with the names of the actions. The fourth action entitled the officer to the Gold Cross, upon which were engraved all four actions, and which was to be worn in substitution of the gold medal and clasps previously received; and gold clasps were added to the ribbon of the gold cross for each subsequent action after the original four.

As far as regimental officers were concerned, the commanding officer of a full battalion present in an action for which a commemorative medal was struck[79] was usually recommended for the smaller gold medal (or clasp if he was already in possession of the medal), even though he might have been a major temporarily in command. As a rule, no other regimental officer received the medal for services performed as such, but occasionally a major or a captain was given the decoration for some particularly brilliant service, for which nowadays he would be awarded the V.C. or the D.S.O. But anything like a general distribution of medals to every one engaged was not given a thought; in fact the idea of wearing medals at all was so new that the majority of officers and men of the army regarded such things as far beyond their reach; and it was not until after the issue of a silver medal to all ranks of the army present at Waterloo, that Peninsular veterans began to consider themselves slighted. Yet for upwards of thirty years they agitated in vain, and only in 1848 was justice done to them by the issue of a silver medal, with clasps. Probably, by that time, the greater number of these brave men had passed away, for, between 1808 and 1848, thousands had been killed in action, died of wounds or of disease contracted on active service, died in afterlife from the effects of exposure and hardships during long years of campaigning, or died of old age.

The regimental officers, perhaps, felt the non-recognition of their services more than did the men, for they argued that they had shared in many Peninsular victories as hard-fought as Waterloo, and had nothing to show for them except the scars on their bodies. And they felt the injustice the more when they remembered the manner in which the gold medal had been awarded. Almost every officer on the staff—even the most junior in field rank—had received it as a matter of course; but no such generosity had been extended to regimental officers, few of whom had been able to fulfil the qualifications prescribed by the authorities. There were captains and subalterns who had fought in battles and sieges innumerable, often severely wounded and even maimed for life, yet who went undecorated; while there were majors, perhaps but once engaged, who, by a stroke of fortune, brought their regiments out of action, and thereby qualified for recommendation for the gold medal. Major Sam Rice, however, was not one of these, for he had seen as much service as any officer of the 51st. Still, but for the temporary illness of his commanding officer, his Peninsular services would have gone unrewarded.

After the battle of the Nivelle, Soult withdrew his main body to the entrenched camp at Bayonne. He destroyed the bridge at Ustaritz, and disposed his troops along the right bank of the river Nive, so as to watch all the other crossings. The weather favoured him; for, throughout the next eight days, rain fell incessantly, the river came down in flood, and the roads, knee-deep in mud and slush, were practically impassable, so that Wellington was restrained from following up his victory. Further circumstances, moreover, forced delay upon him: the Spanish troops, elated at the invasion of France, murdered and pillaged the unfortunate inhabitants far and wide, and so incensed was Wellington at their conduct that he forthwith put to death all whom he took red-handed, and sent the Spanish divisions, composed of some 25,000 men, back across the frontier, to their own country, although by so doing he foresaw the possibility of serious trouble with the Spanish Government.

Wellington now felt his way cautiously, his available troops being too few to run any great risks, and he would not have moved forward immediately except for the fact that the enemy still had a footing at one point on the left bank of the Nive. This was at the Cambo bridge, which, covered by a bridge-head on the left bank, was a source of grave concern to the British commander, since its possession could be taken advantage of by Soult to launch an attack on Wellington's right flank. On the 16th November, therefore, Hill was ordered to move out and threaten the bridge-head, an operation which was completely successful, as the enemy made no stand, but, blowing up the bridge-head and the bridge, evacuated the left bank of the river at the first sight of Hill's reconnaissance. With the Nive between his right flank and the French, Wellington knew that he could bide his time, and complete his preparations for a further advance. And it was nearly a month before he pushed on again.

Between the 8th and 13th December the fighting was heavy and almost continuous, but the 51st saw little of it, being moved about from point to point, in reserve, and being brought up at the concluding action at St Pierre only when the day had been won. But in these stoutly contested battles before Bayonne, otherwise known as the "Battles of the Nive," the Anglo-Portuguese force had met with great successes, had crossed that river, and had pushed the enemy back upon Bayonne, thus earning the well-merited praise of its commander, who himself averred that, had he gone against his conscience and brought up the 25,000 disgraced Spaniards, he would have carried Bayonne and driven Soult's army to the winds. As it was, he held the line which he had gained until he opened the campaign of 1814, and commenced the final phase of the long war.

At the time Wellington had the unpleasant feeling that the Spanish Government, smarting under the insult which had been offered to the national army, would join the French, and force the British commander to fight for the embarkation of his army. Within the next few weeks, however, the political situation cleared up, and Soult began to suffer from the calls made upon him by Napoleon to supply reinforcements for the army with which he was endeavouring to stem the tide of German invasion on the eastern frontiers of France. Soult still held the fortress of Bayonne, standing at the confluence of the Nive with the Adour, and up-stream from Bayonne he held the right bank of the Adour as far as the mouth of the river Bidouse, whence his line, bending southwards almost at right angles, followed the right bank of the latter river. Wellington's immediate objective was Bayonne, the investment of which place he had determined to effect at once, and for this purpose it was necessary to throw a portion of his army across the Adour. With the sea at his command, he decided to cross the river below Bayonne, and in order to distract Soult's attention from that direction he threatened the French centre and left, about the upper Adour and Bidouse, with all the troops whom he could spare.

Towards the middle of February (1814) the operations commenced. On the 26th, Hope, with magnificent skill, threw a bridge of boats across the Adour, at the point some three hundred yards wide, and completed the investment of Bayonne forthwith. Meanwhile Soult's troops had been kept fully occupied among the rivers and streams to the eastward, and on the 27th was fought the battle of Orthes. The 51st, which, with the 7th Division (forming part of Beresford's command), had been pushing the French north-eastward from the river Bidouse during the previous week, found itself on the morning of the 27th near St Boes, opposite the enemy's right. Soult had taken up a strong position along the heights extending from St Boes to the Gave de Pau about the village of Orthes, and had made up his mind to give battle. Wellington was ready to meet him. Beresford, with the 4th and 7th Divisions, was ordered to attack the right from the north-west; Hill, with the 2nd Division, moving from the south bank of the Gave de Pau, was directed to advance on the bridge of Orthes and turn the French left; while Picton, with the 3rd and 6th Divisions, and Alten, with the Light Division, held the centre.

The battle was opened by Beresford at about 9 A.M., but, although he pushed in the enemy's right and carried the village of St Boes, he was in turn forced to retire, and was roughly handled by the French guns. Picton, who had at the same time been pressing forward against the centre, met with no better success, and was also driven back. For the moment the situation was critical, and it seemed as if Soult would snatch a victory; but Wellington's master-mind realised what was happening, and, quick as thought, he hurled a counter-attack of Alten's and Picton's men in between two parts of the French army which had become separated. Beresford turned, recaptured St Boes, and cut off Soult's retreat by the Dax road; and at the same time Hill forded the Gave de Pau a little above Orthes, and menaced Soult's left. The French, smitten in front and flank, drew off rapidly to the north-east, and the battle resolved itself into a race between Hill's Division and Soult's army for the bridge at Sault de Navailles, three miles away. The retreat was well carried out, and though Hill's cavalry pursued with a certain amount of success, Soult contrived to pass the bridge and destroy it, thus putting an end to the pursuit.

This was the last general action of the Peninsular War in which the 51st was engaged, for although the regiment crossed the Adour at St Sever, and advanced as far as Mont de Marsan, it was then detached, in order to accompany Beresford to Bordeaux, which city was wavering between allegiance to Napoleon or to the Bourbons. To settle matters, and to give confidence to the Bourbon party, Wellington sent Beresford with twelve thousand men, and the appearance of this force before Bordeaux, on the 12th March, had the desired result; whereupon Beresford, leaving Lord Dalhousie with the 7th Division and three squadrons of cavalry to occupy the place, marched back to the army. But as soon as Beresford had departed, the Napoleonists took heart and attempted an insurrection, in which they were supported by the advance of a French force from outside. For the next few weeks, therefore, the 51st was constantly engaged in skirmishes with the enemy, who was eventually dispersed by the arrival of a British fleet in the Garonne.

While these events were passing in the neighbourhood of Bordeaux, Wellington was following Soult. On the 20th March, a short but fierce fight at Tarbes resulted in the defeat of the French, who, however, retiring towards Toulouse, continued to dispute the advance of the Allies towards the upper Garonne, until, on the 10th April, Wellington caught them at Toulouse, and overthrew them. With this victory the war was brought to a close, for, the day after Wellington entered the town, the news of Napoleon's abdication was received from Paris, and the preliminaries for a permanent peace were entered into.

At Bordeaux the 51st remained in the enjoyment of a good deal of pleasure and gaiety until July, when it embarked for England, and proceeded first to Plymouth and then to Portsmouth, from which latter place it had started three years and a half before for the Peninsula. In that time the regiment had lost many officers and a great number of men, but these gallant dead had helped to gain seven fresh battle honours for the colours of the 51st. Personal rewards were restricted to the three senior officers, each of whom received the Gold Medal and brevet promotion, otherwise the officers and men found their reward only in the knowledge that they had fought for the glory of England, and had upheld the good name of their regiment. Napier, in the concluding paragraph of his 'Battles and Sieges,' writes of the Peninsular army as follows:—

But, if one turns to the lighter side of the war, one gathers from the journals and letters of officers that, in all this campaigning, with its attendant bloodshed and misery, there was usually some bright lining to the cloud. The vast majority of the officers, as has been shown, were of an age particularly susceptible to sparkling eyes and suchlike things, and the Spanish and French ladies appear to have been no less susceptible to the charming manners of the brave young Englishmen—even though the latter loved and rode away. There were not a few instances, however, of attachments which ended in marriage, and some of the non-commissioned officers and men also brought home Spanish or French wives. These men of war certainly carried large hearts buttoned within their tight-fitting coatees, and the cordiality of the entente was beyond dispute, as is evident from the following words with which one of Napier's subalterns concludes his account of the war[80]—words which, when compared with the above-quoted paragraph, show with what different eyes a bachelor lieutenant and a married lieutenant-colonel looked on life:—

CHAPTER XIII.
THE WATERLOO CAMPAIGN.

Samuel Rice's regimental soldiering so far had been full of excitement, and he had certainly borne his share of service abroad and in the field. He had suffered considerably in health, and had been invalided on more than one occasion, but his twenty-one years' service had not been without reward, although, it may be remarked, he himself appears to have thought little of his brevet or of his gold medal. His letters of this time show that, like many another senior regimental officer, he considered that he had had enough campaigning to satisfy him for some years—if not for his lifetime,—and he rejoiced in the idea of a lasting peace and the quiet of garrison life at home. So convinced was he that a period of leisure and rest was in store for him that, confirmed bachelor as he had hitherto believed himself to be, he seized the opportunity to get married. Yet, within a very few months, his dream vanished; for he was suddenly called upon to leave his bride and go back to war.

Napoleon was once again the cause of all the trouble. When he abdicated in April 1814, he was deported, as a state prisoner, to the Island of Elba, in the Mediterranean; although, out of deference to the feelings of so great a man, his sentence of imprisonment was couched in the most polite terms: Elba was ceded to him, and there he was permitted to reside, with a large retinue and a pension from France. The nations of Europe hugged themselves with the hope that they had settled the troubler for all time, but early in March 1815 they received a rude awakening; for Napoleon was not the man to settle down quietly, at the age of forty-six, without making an effort to retrieve his fallen fortunes and recover his lost throne; and he astonished the world by escaping from Elba, and landing in the south of France. Here he was received enthusiastically by the people, and more especially by his old soldiers, who, again raising the cry of Vive l'Empereur! forthwith joined his standard and marched on Paris, whereupon the Bourbon king fled, and Napoleon once more defied all Europe.

By the Treaty of Paris (1814) Napoleon had agreed for himself and his family to renounce the throne of France, and the allied Powers had agreed to evacuate French territory. A congress then assembled at Vienna to settle various weighty questions connected with the rearrangement of frontiers, which Napoleon's high-handed conquests had upset in all directions. How long this congress would have sat it is impossible to say; no two Powers would come to terms on any point put forward, and as time went on events moved towards an open rupture between certain of the Powers. Napoleon's escape, however, put an end to all differences, and the nations one and all determined to combine against the common "enemy and disturber of the world." The armies of some of the Powers had not retired far beyond the frontiers of France, and these turned about and prepared for an immediate invasion, while those at a distance began to move up.

Towards the close of 1813 Great Britain had sent an army, under the command of Sir Thomas Graham, to the Netherlands (Holland and Belgium), to assist the Prince of Orange in holding his own against the French, and the bulk of that army, still remaining in these countries after the peace of 1814, formed the nucleus of Wellington's army of 1815, reinforcements being despatched rapidly from England.

On the 30th March, the 51st landed at Ostend. Lieut.-Colonel Rice was in luck again, for he found himself in command of the regiment, Colonel Mitchell having been appointed to the command of a brigade. Travelling in barges on the canal, the regiment moved through Bruges to Ghent, where it halted for a few days, and then marched to Brussels, a week later moving into cantonments at Grammont.

The command of the Anglo-Dutch or Anglo-Belgian army was given to Wellington, who soon assembled, in the Netherlands, some 100,000 troops. Acting in conjunction with him was the Army of the Lower Rhine, consisting of Prussians and Saxons, under Blücher, numbering another 100,000 or perhaps a little more. Next came the Austrians and Bavarians (under Schweidnitz), who, to the number of 250,000, were known as the Army of the Upper Rhine; while, away in rear, 170,000 Russians were moving up in reserve. Moreover, the Spaniards, Portuguese, Swiss, Sardinians, Danes and Swedes, were all ready to close in on France, in the event of their co-operation being required. As a matter of fact, Wellington and Blücher hewed their road to victory without the assistance of the others.

Had Wellington had his way, he would have moved into France and assumed the offensive before Napoleon should have time to reorganise his army, but for political and other reasons this was found to be impossible, and April and May were spent in making arrangements for the defence of Belgium; for it was judged that Napoleon would strike at Brussels as soon as possible. He himself would have preferred to have bided his time, but he was forced into immediate action by the knowledge that, if he were to delay, he would be overwhelmed by the Austrians and Russians. He despised the army of Wellington, and he thought little of the British commander, against whom, however, he had never as yet been pitted. For these reasons he was not long in making up his mind to invade Belgium.

Meanwhile Wellington and Blücher had disposed their armies so as to watch the approaches to the Belgian capital, and by the beginning of June the general situation was as follows: At Brussels Wellington had his headquarters, and kept Cole's and Picton's divisions in reserve. In front, i.e., towards the south, Hill's corps was on the right, stretching from the Scheldt up to about Ath; and the Prince of Orange's corps at Mons, Enghien, and Nivelles, prolonged the line to the left; while the Dutch and Belgian cavalry, covering these two corps, were posted well out in front, and Lord Uxbridge's British cavalry was kept in rear, about Grammont. To the left again came the Prussians, with the headquarters of their corps at Charleroi, Namur, Ciney, and Liège. So that the whole line covered a front of about one hundred miles, and was, roughly speaking, forty to fifty miles to the south of Brussels.

The 51st was in the 4th British Brigade (Mitchell), belonging to the 4th Division (Colville), in Hill's corps, and the regiment remained in its cantonments at Grammont until the morning of the 16th June. How little was known up to this time of the coming campaign is vouched for by a letter which Colonel Rice wrote at Grammont on the 9th June, but which was not posted till the 13th. He wrote as if the army generally had no idea of any immediate fighting taking place. "We are at present quiet," he said; "all a matter of conjecture as to what is to be done. The Great Duke knows, but we poor devils know nothing."

But at this time even the Great Duke himself did not know what was going on at any great distance beyond his outposts. Up to the 12th June he had not heard that the French were actually moving towards the Belgian frontier, though he may have suspected it; and so badly served was he by his intelligence officers (who, it is only fair to say, were themselves kept in ignorance of events by the Prussian staff), that it was not until the afternoon of the 15th that he was able to decide whether Napoleon intended to advance on Brussels in one column, by the direct road viâ Charleroi, or whether he would divide his force so as to send a portion of it by the western route through Mons and Hal. Meanwhile Napoleon, with his customary energy, had matured his plans rapidly, and had pushed forward his several corps towards the frontier; so that, when he himself left Paris on the 12th June, he had made up his mind that he would cross into Belgium on the 15th, and be in possession of Brussels shortly afterwards, having defeated Blücher's Prussians and Wellington's British and allied troops. He concentrated rapidly, and on the night of the 14th nearly the whole of his army was in bivouac close up to the Prussian outposts. At dawn on the 15th he saw the first item on his programme carried out, the French forcing back the Prussians, occupying Charleroi, and advancing northwards towards Quatre Bras.

At 3 P.M. that day Wellington was apprised of these movements, but so certain was he of the soundness of his dispositions that he feared nothing. Learning that no French troops were moving in the direction of Mons, he knew that his right flank was safe, so at 5 P.M. he issued orders for a general concentration of his force towards Quatre Bras—the point where the Nivelles-Ligny road crossed the road from Charleroi to Brussels—and at 10 P.M. he supplemented these orders by detailed instructions as to routes and objectives. Then he attended the famous ball given by the Duchess of Richmond in Brussels, whereat a great many British officers were present, though all had been warned that they were to leave early and join their regiments marching to the front. Straight from the festive scene, therefore, many rode all night to overtake the troops only as they were becoming engaged with the enemy.

At daybreak on the 16th the 51st (with Mitchell's brigade) left Grammont for Braine le Comte, where, after a weary march, it halted for the night in pouring rain. During the march the sounds of guns were distinctly heard in the distance, yet no one in the regiment knew what was taking place, or the whereabouts of the enemy. But not far away stirring events had been in progress. At 11 A.M. Wellington, riding from Brussels, had reached the position which his advanced troops were taking up at Quatre Bras, though by that time only some 7000 Dutch and Belgians, under the Prince of Orange, had arrived. Fortunately, however, Napoleon appeared to be directing all his energies against Blücher's 80,000 Prussians, in the neighbourhood of Ligny, and Wellington rode across to confer with the Prussian Field-Marshal, eventually agreeing to go to his assistance at 4 P.M., if not himself attacked.

Wellington then returned to Quatre Bras, and within a couple of hours realised that the Prussians would have to look after themselves; for Napoleon, aiming at a double victory, sent Ney against Wellington early in the afternoon, and the battle which raged around Quatre Bras for the remainder of the day only ended in a victory for Wellington by the timely arrival of the reserves from Brussels. Blücher, in the meanwhile, had been severely handled by Napoleon, who, after a bloody conflict of nearly six hours, succeeded in breaking the centre of the Prussian line and driving the defeated army from the field. But of the forced retreat of his Prussian allies from Ligny Wellington heard nothing definite until next morning, when he learned that Blücher had retired upon Wavre.

No sooner did Wellington become aware of the Prussian retreat than he decided to fall back from Quatre Bras to the position at Waterloo which he had had in his mind all along, and at about 10 A.M. on the 17th June he sent word to Blücher that he would fight at Waterloo if a Prussian corps would join him there. He then issued orders for the retirement from Quatre Bras, and sent instructions to Prince Frederic's Dutch-Belgians and such troops of the 4th Division as were at Braine le Comte or on the road to Nivelles to assemble at the former of these two places and await orders, while all other troops were to retire at once to Waterloo. Now it happened that Mitchell's brigade alone of the 4th Division, marching early from Braine le Comte, had reached Nivelles before the order arrived, and thus avoided sharing in the ill-luck which befell the remainder of the division—viz., being posted on the flank at Tubize, near Hal, while the great victory of the 18th June was being won.[81] Mitchell, therefore, paraded his brigade with the 2nd Division, already at Nivelles; and at noon the 51st was marching north by the Brussels road.

The march of the afternoon was hot and dusty, and was made all the more disagreeable by the road frequently becoming blocked by troops, guns, wagons, and ambulances withdrawing from Quatre Bras. The prospects of a fight, however, kept the men going, and the sight of some French columns in motion during the afternoon put new life into them. It was evident that an engagement could not be long delayed, and many imagined that it would take place before nightfall. Towards evening Mitchell marched his brigade on to that part of the position allotted to it—on the extreme right near Braine la Leud, and there the 51st and the other regiments of the brigade bivouacked. In all directions troops could be seen moving into position; and though darkness was approaching it still seemed as if the fight could not be postponed till the morrow. Masses of French troops were visible at no great distance, and a few British guns were already opening fire on some of the enemy's infantry, while parties of cavalry were briskly engaged in more than one part of the field.

But the night closed in without matters going further, and it was a night not easily forgotten by those who slept out in it. Rain fell in torrents, so that the bivouacs became a sea of mud, and the soldiers, lying out in the open, were drenched to the skin. When at length day broke and the heavy rain ceased, the situation became fully apparent, and no doubt remained as to the severity of the coming struggle. Less than a mile separated the two great armies, drawn up and facing one another. Between them lay a shallow valley, some two or three miles in length, and averaging half a mile in width, the sides sloping gently, but being everywhere uneven and undulating. The trend of the valley was east and west, and Wellington's army occupied the northern crest and ground in rear, slightly in advance of the village of Mont St Jean; while the French were in position on the southern crest. From south to north, and dividing each position into two almost equal parts, ran the great paved causeway from Charleroi to Brussels. Such was the field whereon was fought the memorable battle of Waterloo, so named from the village a little in rear of Mont St Jean; and within that cramped area there were at one time engaged no fewer than one hundred and eighty thousand combatants.

It is not proposed to treat here of the battle of Waterloo in detail—a task to which numerous bulky volumes have been devoted,—but in describing the small part played in the fight by Lieut.-Colonel Sam Rice and his regiment, it will be necessary at any rate to sum up the situation at various times, in order to make the narrative complete. Still it may be said at once that the bulk of Mitchell's brigade kept to the one part of the field throughout the day, at times gaining ground, at times forced back, yet ever awaiting attack in the vicinity of Hougoumont. The brigade was weak in numbers, mustering no more than 1800 bayonets, of which the 51st supplied 540. The duty allotted to Mitchell was an important one, since Wellington considered it probable that Napoleon would attempt to turn his right flank and push through to Brussels by way of the road through Hal, and it was for that reason that he had detached the Dutch-Belgians and part of the 4th Division (numbering in all some 18,000 men) to the neighbourhood of Hal. These troops were some five miles from the field of battle, and at the outset Mitchell's brigade was called upon to hold in check any determined movement of the enemy in this direction until fresh dispositions could be made.

Wellington had taken up a strong defensive position, with most of his troops drawn back below the actual crest, and with his reserves well concealed by the folds of the ground. Napoleon, on the other hand, deigned to little concealment, and sought to break down his opponents' defences by sheer weight of numbers. At a little before noon the fight commenced, Napoleon sending forward his brother, Prince Jerome, against the advanced post of Hougoumont, which, as the key of the position, was strongly held by the Allies. At the same time an artillery duel opened all along the line, and a tempest of shot and shell raged across the valley; but the defenders of Hougoumont, reinforced by the whole of Byng's British Guards, resisted every onslaught of the French columns, even though parties of the enemy established themselves close up to the buildings and set them on fire. Almost continuously during the afternoon the attacks on this vital point went on, and so numerous at times were the assailants that they were able to overlap it and threaten the right of the Allies' main line. Here Mitchell's men came into action, and assisted in forcing back the assailants.

Early in the day Mitchell had advanced several companies, for the purpose of closing the gap between Hougoumont and Braine la Leud, and one company of the 51st was posted close to an abatis which had been placed across the main road a little in rear of the entrance to the avenue of Hougoumont. Four other companies of the regiment were extended farther to the right, along the hollow way leading to Braine la Leud, with instructions to engage the enemy's skirmishers as they advanced, and then to endeavour to harass with heavy musket fire the solid columns following their skirmishers. As had been expected, the French columns came on, covered by skirmishers, but so advantageous was the ground over which they advanced, and so high the standing corn through which they moved, that the companies of the 51st could not observe their approach until they were almost upon them. Then, rising, the British soldiers poured in their fire at forty paces, and, cheering wildly, dashed forward at the charge. And the impetuous onslaught had the desired effect, for the enemy, although supported by cavalry, were beaten back. The four companies of the 51st were then ordered to retire some two hundred yards, and rejoin the regiment.

While this was in progress, Napoleon was busy making preparations for his grand assault, designed to break the left centre of the British position. For this great effort, seventy-four guns were moved up, so as to bring their fire to bear, at a range of less than half a mile, on the Allies; and Marshal Ney was placed in command of 18,000 men in four columns, supported by Kellerman's cavalry division. Napoleon hoped that this combined attack would be final and decisive; that, having captured the advanced post of La Haie Sainte, the columns would be able to sweep onwards to Mont St Jean, cut off Wellington from Brussels as well as from the Prussians coming from the direction of Wavre, and thus make victory complete. At 1 P.M. Ney's masses of columns moved down into the valley, and passed the seventy-four guns, which immediately opened fire over their heads, and caused havoc in the ranks of the Allies. Three of the columns pressed forward towards the Allies' centre, while the third moved away north-east, with the intention of driving in the left flank. Whether by design or by accident, Ney's principal attack was directed against the portion of the front line held by Bylandt's brigade of Dutch and Belgians, and no sooner did the French skirmishers, covering the advance of the columns, begin to make use of their muskets than panic seized their adversaries, who turned and fled in disorder. Then was Wellington's forethought, as well as the wisdom of his dispositions, apparent, for doubting the loyalty of the Dutch-Belgians, he had been careful to support them everywhere by British brigades, and here, close in rear, stood Picton's division, ready to take the place of the disloyal or cowardly Dutch-Belgians.

Although barely recovered from the effects of their recent fighting at Quatre Bras, Picton's 3000 gallant men responded to the call, and advanced in two thin lines to meet the 12,000 Frenchmen, already flushed with victory. Nearer the columns approached, and the British lines halted to receive them. Then, when within a few yards, Ney ordered his columns to deploy into line, Picton, taking advantage of the momentary check, delivered a withering volley and then charged in with the bayonet. The head of the leading French column was hurled back in confusion, and the 3000 British soldiers flung themselves upon the disorganised 12,000 Frenchmen, before they could recover from their first surprise. Picton was shot dead as he led the charge, but his gallant action had saved the situation, and it remained for the cavalry to complete Ney's discomfiture in this part of the field, charging the broken infantry, overthrowing the cavalry, and putting the seventy-four guns out of action for the remainder of the day.

Thus ended the second phase of the great battle, and so far Napoleon had made no headway. Yet he was by no means disheartened, and, ordering all his remaining guns into action, he pounded the British line from a distance, while he prepared for his next assault. At 4 P.M. began another phase of the fight, when Wellington's right wing was assailed by squadron after squadron of Cuirassiers, fresh bodies of infantry moving at the same time against La Haie Sainte and Hougoumont. The charges of the French cavalry were magnificent, but the squares in which Wellington had rapidly formed his troops resisted all the enemy's efforts to break them. The British guns also stood firm, firing grape at the charging horsemen, until they arrived within forty yards, when, discharging a salvo, the gunners quitted their guns for the time being and fell back to the shelter of the infantry squares. Four times did the French cavalry charge home, using some 12,000 men for the purpose; yet were they able to do no more than to ride round and between the squares, which, being arranged chequerwise, met them with bristling bayonets and a rattling musketry fire in all directions, throwing them into disorder and obliging the greater number to draw off, with heavy losses in killed, wounded, and prisoners.

It was just before this that the company of the 51st, still posted near the abatis on the Nivelles road, was able to do some execution. A party of Cuirassiers, captured by the British cavalry after riding into the position, broke away from their escort and endeavoured to make their way back to their own lines. Galloping down the Nivelles road, hotly pursued by the escort, they first came under fire of a detachment of the 51st, out in front of the regiment; but from this fire they suffered little, as it became masked by the pursuing British dragoons. The sound of the firing in his rear, however, attracted the attention of Captain Ross, commanding the 51st company near the abatis, and he soon became aware of the approach of the fugitives, who, ignorant of the fact that the road was blocked, came on at full speed. Then Ross turned his men about, and, opening fire, emptied many saddles. "Eight of the Cuirassiers," says Siborne, the historian, "and twelve of their horses, were killed, and the remainder, about sixty, taken or dispersed."

The greater part of Napoleon's famous heavy cavalry was now hors de combat, and had effected little, except that perhaps their several charges had helped Donzelot's infantry to gain a footing in the vicinity of La Haie Sainte, and thus enabled them, a little later, to capture that post. This success to be of any value Napoleon realised would have to be followed up forthwith, for he was already aware that the Prussians from Wavre were approaching his right flank. It was past seven o'clock in the evening, and there was no time to lose; consequently, Napoleon bestirred himself, and prepared for his final grand assault on Wellington's position. The capture of La Haie Sainte proved of great value to the Frenchmen, for Donzelot's men were able to prevent, with their musketry fire, the British gunners in their front from fighting their guns. French guns were then brought up to the post, and at a range of less than a hundred yards, poured grape into the ranks of the Allies. Napoleon felt confident that victory was within his grasp; his grand reserve—his veterans of the Old Guard—still remained at hand, fresh and ready for a supreme effort, and he determined that they should make that effort. Placing Ney in command of the two massive columns of infantry, he ordered them to take a line between La Haie Sainte and Hougoumont, and assail the position. As his beloved veterans passed him on the way to the front, he sat on his white horse with outstretched arm, pointing in the direction which the attack was to take, and the cheers which came from the old soldiers convinced him that if it were possible at this juncture for any troops to break down Wellington's defences, then his Imperial Guard would do it.

Down the slope in front of La Belle Alliance, into the shallow valley marched these 10,000 warriors, headed by the drummers beating the pas de charge.[82] Then, as they began to ascend towards the British position, they pushed forward a cloud of skirmishers, who, joining hands with those of Donzelot, opened a heavy fire. The two columns, advancing to the attack in close order, were now seen to be heading straight for that part of the line held by Maitland's brigade of Guards. On the right of Maitland, Adam's brigade had been moved up, so as to prolong the line as far as the northern enclosure of Hougoumont, to the right rear of which, again, stood Mitchell's brigade, in support of the gallant garrison of the château.

Barely four hundred yards separated the head of the leading French column from the British position, when Sir John Colborne, commanding the 52nd, of Adam's brigade, swiftly realised the situation. Acting on his own initiative, he gave the order to his regiment to advance in quick time towards the flank of the attacking columns, and the long red line moved forward in perfect order. Then suddenly he wheeled his whole line up, so as to face the flank of the columns, and threw out a company of skirmishers with orders to open fire on the Imperial Guard. The Frenchmen, thus challenged, halted and replied, and by so doing brought destruction upon themselves, for Colborne's line was ready for them. The ranks closed up; the bugles rang out; and with one mighty roar from the regiment, eight hundred British bayonets bore down on the veterans of France. But the latter did not stand to receive the charge; the sudden onslaught appalled them; the leading battalions broke and fled to the rear, and in their flight carried with them the whole of the Imperial Guard—the flower of the French army, and Napoleon's last hope. No time was given to them to re-form, for the remainder of Adam's brigade and Maitland's Guards opened fire upon them from the higher ground as they fled; and Wellington, with the light of victory in his eyes, ordered a general advance towards La Belle Alliance, where Napoleon and Ney could be seen rallying their men for a last stand.

But when, as the sun fast approached the horizon, Blücher's Prussians were observed to be moving in rapidly from the east and north-east, the French knew that the squares into which they had been hastily formed would be powerless to stem the tide of the advancing hosts. One man alone amongst them all remained resolute. Napoleon even then refused to acknowledge himself beaten, and enjoined on his soldiers to stand firm, and, if necessary, die by his side on the field. His generals, however, saw that all hope had gone, and begged their emperor to make good his escape while there was yet time. Then, as the squares gave way and melted into the great mass of fugitives pressing south, Soult and the others rode off with their mighty leader—away from his last field of battle. In Wellington, the "Sepoy-General" at whom he had scoffed, Napoleon had met his match.

The pursuit did not slacken for an instant, and Wellington led on his victorious troops as far as Rossomme, when, assured that victory was complete and that the Prussians were following on the heels of the flying Frenchmen, he drew rein, and in the moonlight rode back towards Waterloo. At Genappe he met Marshal Blücher; and, amidst the cheers of those around them, the two great warriors gripped hands, as they congratulated each other on the brilliant result of the battle. Then it was arranged that the Prussians should continue the pursuit; while the British army, worn out by nine hours' hard fighting, bivouacked on the actual battlefield.

The 51st and the 14th lay on their arms for the night in the wood of Hougoumont; the 23rd, having taken part in the general advance, bivouacked near La Belle Alliance; and next morning Mitchell's three regiments, having united again, marched to Nivelles, where they halted for a day to get rations, and were congratulated, in special orders issued by Lord Hill and by Sir Charles Colville, on the part that they had played in "the glorious and for ever memorable battle of the 18th June." For their share in this victory both Colonel Mitchell and Lieutenant-Colonel Rice were appointed Companions of the Bath. Thus once again fortune smiled on Samuel Rice, who, until the autumn of 1813, had considered himself the most unlucky of officers. A stroke of luck, as has been shown, gave him the temporary command of the 51st at the battle of the Nivelle, the Peninsular Gold Medal, and a brevet lieutenant-colonelcy; by luck he obtained the temporary command of the regiment at Waterloo, the Waterloo Medal, and the C.B., as well as the sum of £433, being a field-officer's share of the prize-money granted by Parliament to the victorious army. And by pure and simple luck alone did the 51st take part in the great battle, instead of being at Tubize with the rest of the 4th Division. Moreover, all this led subsequently to Colonel Rice receiving the further honour of being appointed a Knight of Hanover. Yet there are some who maintain that there is no such thing as luck. Without it, Colonel Rice would have missed four decorations—in an age when decorations were not freely given; and without it, he would have gone to his grave unrewarded for his many campaigns, for the Silver Medal for the Peninsular War was not granted until eight years after his death. The services rendered by himself and his regiment at Waterloo may not have been very remarkable, though it is certain that they did all that was required of them.

Some years afterwards, when Captain William Siborne was constructing his famous model of Waterloo, now in the Museum of the R.U.S. Institution, Colonel Rice, among other survivors of the battle, was requested to describe the movements of the regiment which he commanded on that eventful day. His reply[83] was characteristic of the man: he claimed no honour or glory for himself, but he set forth the bald facts:—