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WAKEFIELD, BATTLE OF.—Fought, December 31st, 1460, between Queen Margaret, the wife of Henry VI, and the Duke of York, in which the latter was slain4, and 3000 Yorkists fell in the field. This was one of the bloodiest5 battles between the houses of York and Lancaster.
WALCHEREN EXPEDITION.—This important expedition consisted of thirty-five ships of the line, and 200 smaller vessels6, and 40,000 troops, under the command of the Earl of Chatham. The fleet was commanded by Sir Richard Strachan. A large number of the forces died, and the whole expedition came to nothing, December 28th, 1809.
WARSAW, BATTLES OF.—The Poles suffered a great defeat here from the Russians, October 10th and 12th, 1794. Suwarrow, the Russian General, after the siege of Warsaw, cruelly butchered 30,000 Poles, November 8th, 1794. The battle preceding the surrender of Warsaw was fearfully bloody10; of 26,000 men, more than 10,000 were killed; nearly 10,000 were made prisoners, and only 2000 escaped the merciless fury of the Russian butcher. Another battle fought here, and the Poles again defeated, September 7th and 8th, 1831.
WASHINGTON.—Taken, August 24th, 1814, in the war between Great Britain and the United States, by General Ross, when all the superb national structures were consumed, in a general conflagration12—the troops not sparing the national library.
WATERLOO, BATTLE OF.—The greatest of all British engagements, fought June 18th, 1815, between the Duke of Wellington and Napoleon. The carnage on both sides was immense. The account of this great battle is taken from the “Twelve Great Battles of England.” The following is a fine account of the visit of Scott to the field of Waterloo after the battle, and also Alison on the defeat of the Old Guard:
WATERLOO AT NOON ON THE DAY AFTER THE BATTLE.
“On a surface of two square miles, it was ascertained14 that 50,000 men and horses were lying! The luxurious15 crop of ripe grain which had covered the field of battle was reduced to litter, and beaten into the earth; and the surface, trodden down by the cavalry16, and furrowed17 deeply by the cannon18 wheels, was strewn with many a relic19 of the fight. Helmets and cuirasses, shattered fire-arms and broken swords; all the variety of military ornaments20; Lancer caps and Highland21 bonnets22; uniforms of[375] every colour, plume23, and pennon; musical instruments, the apparatus24 of artillery25, drums, bugles26; but, good God! why dwell on the harrowing picture of a foughten field? Each and every ruinous display bore mute testimony27 to the misery28 of such a battle. * * * Could the melancholy29 appearance of this scene of death be heightened, it would be by witnessing the researches of the living midst its desolation for the objects of their love. Mothers, and wives, and children, for days were occupied in that mournful duty; and the confusion of the corpses30, friend and foe32 intermingled as they were, often rendered the attempt at recognising individuals difficult, and in some cases impossible. * * * In many places the dead lay four deep upon each other, marking the spot some British square had occupied, when exposed for hours to the murderous fire of a French battery. Outside, lancer and cuirassier were scattered33 thickly on the earth. Madly attempting to force the serried34 bayonets of the British, they had fallen, in the bootless essay, by the musketry of the inner files. Farther on, you traced the spot where the cavalry of France and England had encountered. Chasseur and hussar were intermingled; and the heavy Norman horse of the Imperial Guard were interspersed35 with the grey chargers which had carried Albion’s chivalry36. Here the Highlander37 and tirailleur lay, side by side, together; and the heavy dragoon, with Green Erin’s badge upon his helmet, was grappling in death with the Polish lancer. * * * On the summit of the ridge38, where the ground was covered with death, and trodden fetlock-deep in mud and gore39, by the frequent rush of rival cavalry, the thick-strewn corpses of the Imperial Guard pointed40 out the spot where Napoleon had been defeated. Here, in column, that favoured corps31, on whom his last chance rested, had been annihilated41; and the advance and repulse42 of the Guard was traceable by a mass of fallen Frenchmen. In the hollow below, the last struggle of France had been vainly made; for the Old Guard, when the middle battalion43 had been forced back, attempted to meet the British, and afford time for their disorganised companions to rally. Here the British left, which had converged45 upon the French centre, had come up; and here the bayonet closed the contest.”
DEFEAT OF THE OLD GUARD AT WATERLOO.
“The Imperial Guard was divided into two columns, which, advancing from different parts of the field, were to converge44 to the decisive point on the British right centre, about midway between La Haye Sainte and the nearest enclosures of Hougoumont. Reille commanded the first column,[376] which was supported by all the infantry46 and cavalry which remained of his corps on either flank, and advanced up the hill in a slanting48 direction, beside the orchard50 of Hougoumont. The second was headed by Ney in person, and moving down the chaussée of Charleroi to the bottom of the slope, it then inclined to the left, and leaving La Haye Sainte to the right, mounted the slope, also in a slanting direction, converging51 towards the same point whither the other column was directing its steps. Napoleon went with this column as far as the place where it left the hollow of the high road, and spoke52 a few words—the last he ever addressed to his soldiers—to each battalion in passing. The men moved on with shouts of Vive l’Empereur! so loud as to be heard along the whole British line, above the roar of artillery, and it was universally thought the Emperor himself was heading the attack. But, meanwhile, Wellington had not been idle. Sir Frederick Adam’s brigade, consisting of the 52nd, 71st, and 95th, and General Maitland’s brigade of Guards, which had been drawn53 from Hougoumont, with Chasse’s Dutch troops, yet fresh, were ordered to bring up their right shoulders, and wheel inward, with their guns in front, towards the edge of the ridge; and the whole batteries in that quarter inclined to the left, so as to expose the advancing columns coming up to a concentric fire on either flank: the central point, where the attack seemed likely to fall, was strengthened by nine heavy guns; the troops at that point were drawn up four deep, in the form of an interior angle: the Guards forming one side, the 73rd and 30th the other;—while the light cavalry of Vivian and Vandeleur was brought up behind the line, at the back of La Haye Sainte, and stationed close in the rear, so as to be ready to make the most of any advantage which might occur.
It was a quarter past seven when the first column of the Old Guard, under Reille, advanced to the attack; but the effect of the artillery on its flank was such, that the cavalry were quickly dispersed54: and the French battalions55 uncovered, showed their long flank to Adam’s guns, which opened on them a fire so terrible, that the head of the column, constantly pushed on by the mass in the rear, never advanced, but melted away as it came into the scene of carnage. Shortly after, Ney’s column approached with an intrepid56 step; the veterans of Wagram and Austerlitz were there; no force on earth seemed capable of resisting them; they had decided57 every former battle. Drouot was beside the Marshal, who repeatedly said to him they were about to gain a glorious victory. General Friant was killed by Ney’s side: the Marshal’s[377] own horse was shot under him; but bravely advancing on foot, with his drawn sabre in his hand, he sought death from the enemy’s volleys. The impulse of this massy column was at first irresistible58; the guns were forced back, and the Imperial Guard came up to within forty paces of the English Foot Guards, and the 73rd and 30th regiments59. These men were lying down, four deep, in a small ditch behind the rough road, which there goes along the summit of the ridge. “Up Guards, and at them!” cried the Duke, who had repaired to the spot; and the whole, on both sides of the angle into which the French were advancing, springing up, moved forward a few paces, and poured in a volley so close and well directed, that nearly the whole first two ranks of the French fell at once. Gradually advancing, they now pushed the immense column, yet bravely combatting, down the slope; and Wellington, at that decisive instant, ordered Vivian’s brigade to charge the retiring body on one flank, while Adam’s foot advanced against it on the other. The effect of this triple attack, at once in front and on both flanks, was decisive: the 52nd and 71st, swiftly converging inward, threw in so terrible a volley on their left flank, that the Imperial Guard swerved61 in disorder62 to the right; and at that very instant the 10th, 18th, and 21st dragoons, under Vivian, bore down with irresistible fury, and piercing right through the body, threw it into irrevocable confusion. The cry, “Tout est perdu—la Garde recule!” arose in the French ranks, and the enormous mass, driven headlong down the hill, overwhelmed everything which came in its way, and spread disorder through the whole French centre.”
DESCRIPTION OF WATERLOO FROM THE TWELVE BATTLES.
“We have seen the three several stages by which the Duke of Wellington had conducted the British army to that elevated position in which the peace of 1814 left it. We have seen how it had, first, on the broad fields of Castile, boldly encountered a French army of twice its strength, and had sent it back in defeat. Next, at Salamanca, meeting an army of equal force, it had scattered it by an assault of a single hour, annihilating63 at a blow one-half of its strength. And lastly, falling upon the intrusive64 King himself in his final position of retreat and defence at Vittoria, it had driven his entire array, like a flock of frightened sheep, over the Pyrenees. After those triumphs, by which a whole realm of great extent had been delivered from its invaders65, there seemed scarcely any way by which the fame and honour of the British army and its illustrious Commander could be enhanced, except by an event not to be anticipated—an encounter[378] with the great conqueror66 of modern times, now an exile at Elba; and a triumph over him.
This event, however unlikely it might seem, was reserved for England’s soldiers and her General; and it occurred in less than a year after the apparent restoration of peace. Napoleon suddenly left his island-home, reappeared in France, gathered his soldiers round him, and re-entered Paris as once more its Emperor. Naturally enough, the Sovereigns who had compelled his retirement67, scarcely nine months before, resolved to maintain their position; and they covenanted68 with each other to place armies amounting to 600,000 men on the soil of France in the course of July, 1815. The British portion of this force was collecting together in the months of May and June, under the Duke’s command; when Napoleon determined69 not to wait for the attack, but to carry the war into the allied70 territories; and, accordingly, in the second week in June he entered Belgium. Before he had proceeded twenty miles he encountered both the English and the Prussian armies, and on the fourth day, at a distance of about thirty miles from the French frontier, was fought the great and decisive battle of Waterloo.
This momentous71 contest will require of us a more lengthened72 description than we have given of any of the great battles; both because it was an event of the highest possible importance to the fate of England, of Europe, and of the world; and also because it was, so to speak, a succession of battles fought on one field, and on the same day. In a former case we have seen “an army of forty thousand men defeated in forty minutes;” but here the deadly strife73 occupied nearly ten hours. The French opened the attack at eleven in the morning, and at nine o’clock at night the last of their battalions had not yet quitted the field. In the course of these ten hours four or five desperate and prolonged contests had taken place; each of which might have been justly called a battle. It will be impossible, therefore, to give any fair or complete idea of this long continued struggle, without occupying much greater space than is required for an ordinary battle.
It is also a history which is thickly strewn with controversies74. The defeated General himself was the first to open this wordy strife. The loss of the fight of Waterloo was a fact to which he never could be reconciled. That battle hurled75 him, finally, from the throne on which he had for the second time seated himself, and sent him to wear out the few remaining years of his life on the rock of St. Helena. In[379] that retirement he occupied himself, for the most part, in a series of efforts to resuscitate76 his extinguished “glory.”[16] In these attempts he was hampered77 by no moral scruples78; for, as Emerson has remarked, “this, the highest-placed individual in the world, had not the merit of common truth and honesty; he would steal, slander80, assassinate81, as his interest indicated.” Any reasonable man, therefore, will read his “Historical Memoir82,” book ix, written at St. Helena, and published in London in 1820, with that caution which is so plainly called for when a document is confessedly an exparte statement, and written by one who is known to be of unscrupulous character.
Yet that document has been received in many quarters with a credulity which is somewhat surprising. It is true that this credulity may be accounted for in the case of the French historians—who, obliged to confess that their defeat at Waterloo was “horrible”—a “massacre83”—a “deluge of blood”—are glad to have supplied to them, under Napoleon’s own hand, the apology that he was overmatched and greatly outnumbered; and that yet, after all, he would have proved victorious84 if one of his Generals had not disobeyed his commands.
The latter of these two pleas has been generally rejected by English writers—utterly85 denied as its truth has been by the party so accused. But, strangely enough, although there was every probability that Napoleon’s account of his own strength, and of that of his opponent, would be wholly untrustworthy—several of our best English writers have given entire credence87 of his statement of the real amount of his army; even while those statements are clearly refuted by abundant testimonies88 of many Frenchmen. And this point is not an immaterial one. For if we could admit the truth of Napoleon’s final conclusion, that “On that day 69,000 French beat 120,000 men, and the victory was only torn from them between eight and nine o’clock at night by the increase of the allies to 150,000 men”[17]—what merit could we assign to the British soldiers, or to their great commander, for such a victory? But, in sober verity89, of all the falsehoods deliberately90 put forth91 by Napoleon in the course of his life, this, probably, is nearly the greatest.
Let us, however, now endeavour to arrange our narrative92 in its proper order. The army which was assembling in Belgium under the Duke’s command, had reached, in the beginning of June, the respectable amount[380] of almost 100,000 men. It contained, however, far more Belgians, Hanoverians, Brunswickers, and Dutchmen, than British troops, and far more new levies93, landwehr, and militia94, than of experienced soldiers. The English regiments which had followed the Duke through all the fields of Spain had been sent to America, and were now on the Atlantic, on their return home. He had some of the Guards, and a few other regiments of some standing95; but the largest portion of the British troops which had yet reached Belgium were second battalions—new recruits drafted from the militia—and the same observation would apply to the Hanoverians and other auxiliaries96.
It was a knowledge of this intrinsic weakness of the Duke’s army, and of the fact that 10,000 or 15,000 of his old Peninsular troops would soon join him, that decided Napoleon, as is frankly97 confessed,[18] to make a sudden attack on the British and Prussian forces before they were fully9 prepared to meet him. Silently, therefore, but with his usual skill and rapidity, Napoleon brought together a powerful army, and on the morning of the 15th of June he moved forward and entered Belgium.
And here we are met by the most current of all the fictions which are connected with this history. A variety of writers have repeated, one after another—Napoleon himself setting them the example—the story that the Duke never heard of the approach of the French until eleven o’clock in the evening of that day, while at a ball at Brussels. The facts, however, which are beyond dispute, are these—that the French did not enter Charleroi, the first Belgian town, until eleven or twelve o’clock on June the 15th—that tidings of their movement reached the Duke at Brussels by three o’clock, and that between four and five o’clock that same afternoon orders went out to every corps of the British army to move to the front, many of them beginning their march that same evening. There was no surprise, then, nor was there the loss of a single day. The French had not marched thirty miles—had not entered any place of the least importance, when, on the third day, they found the British army drawn up across their path, and had to fight the battle of Waterloo.
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They had, indeed, found their progress arrested still earlier. Entering Belgium on the 15th, they were stopped the very next day at Ligny by the Prussians, at Quatre Bras by a part of the English army. Marshal Blucher being defeated, and retiring a few miles, the Duke fell back also, and thus was enabled to draw up his army at Waterloo—a position which he had before observed to be an advantageous98 one, and which was in all respects well suited to the defence of Brussels.
It was on the afternoon of the 17th June that the Duke’s army found itself assembled on this spot. The French army, led by Napoleon himself, soon approached, but the day was too far advanced to afford time for a general engagement. The two armies, therefore, took position, the English on a rising ground called Mont St. Jean, about half a mile in advance of the village of Waterloo, and nine miles on the French side of Brussels; the French on a series of heights facing Mont St. Jean, having the village of Planchenoit on the right, and looking down upon a small valley which separated the two hosts.
And now we are naturally brought to a consideration of the question, what was the respective strength of these two armies? This is a point upon which Napoleon has bestowed99 great pains in his “Historical Memoir, Book ix,” and on which he has succeeded in deluding100 many English writers.
As to the strength of the British army, there can be no kind of doubt upon that point, for the actual numbers present in each battalion and squadron was carefully recorded; and these records were needed to establish the respective rights of all present to honours and rewards. We have spoken of a gross amount of nearly 100,000 men. But of these, several thousands were required to garrison101 Antwerp, Ostend, Nieuport, Ypres, Tournai, and Mons,—the loss at Quatre Bras had been 3000 or 4000, and a post of observation at Hal, consisted of nearly 6000. When these deductions102 were made, not quite 70,000 men remained, to meet Napoleon’s attack at Waterloo.
The British infantry in the field were 15,181, and the German Legion infantry were 3301. The British and German cavalry were 7840, and their artillery was 3493. Thus the whole reliable force of the Duke—the force to which he must look to stand the French attack—was not quite 30,000 men. All this was well known to Napoleon, who, in his “Book ix,” says, “Victory appeared to be certain,” for the French army consisted of “good troops, while, in the enemy’s army, the English only, amounting to 40,000 at most, could be reckoned upon as such.”[19]
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The “Allied troops,” who made up the Duke’s array, consisted of 10,755 Hanoverians, many of whom were mere103 landwehr or militia, and nearly 25,000 Belgians, Dutch, and men of Brunswick and Nassau. Some of these fought gallantly105, but others retreated whenever the French approached,—some actually flying from the field. Hence Napoleon justly says, “one Englishman might be counted for one Frenchman:—two Dutchmen, Prussians, or soldiers of the Confederation, for one Frenchman.”
Adopting, therefore, Napoleon’s own method of calculation, we may say, that the Duke had an army nominally106 amounting to about 68,000 men, really equal to something less than 50,000.
And now we turn to the other side of the account. Here we must, to be safe, accept only French testimony. If we draw together all the credible108 statements of this class that we can find, we shall probably be able to arrive at a just conclusion.
There was published at Paris, in 1815, a volume by an officer attached to the staff, which may be considered to be “the French account,” at the time and in detail, of this battle. In this volume, the whole army which entered Belgium is stated to have been “150,000 effective men of whom about 30,000 were cavalry.” It seems improbable that a staff-officer should have greatly erred109, or that a Frenchman should have exaggerated the strength of the beaten army. Reckoning, therefore, the gross number to have been 150,000; and deducting110 15,000 for losses at Ligny, and at Quatre Bras, we may estimate the force detached under Grouchy111 on the 17th, at about 38 or 40,000 men, and the strength of the French army at Waterloo at something more than 90,000.
And this estimate precisely112 agrees with Napoleon’s own statement, written at Paris three days after the battle. In this bulletin he says, “We estimated the force of the English army at 80,000 men. We supposed that a Prussian corps which might be in line toward the right might be 15,000 men. The enemy’s force, then, was upwards113 of 90,000 men; ours less numerous.”
He is here speaking of the morning. But there was not a Prussian soldier in the field until five o’clock in the afternoon; and this Napoleon well knew. Why, then, does he here introduce a “supposed” Prussian corps? Clearly, in order to bring up the allied force to 95,000 men, so that he might be able to add, “Ours, less numerous.” He had every possible motive114, as a beaten General, striving to make the best of his case,—for saying, if he had dared,—“The enemy was more than 90,000[383] strong, but we had not quite 70,000.” But he could not venture, in the face of abundant evidence then existing, to say that his army was less than 80,000, the force he assigns to the English. He therefore, by an “ingenious device,” augments115 the allied force to 95,000; and then he can venture to assert that his own army was inferior in numbers. There is clearly implied in this statement an admission that his own force was not greatly below 95,000.
Yet when Ney and others were dead, and the records, in all probability, scattered or destroyed, the same man who wrote this bulletin, concocted116 at St. Helena, four or five years after, a widely-different account. In his “Book ix,” p. 128, he puts forth an elaborate table, purporting117 to show, that the whole force of the French army at Waterloo was only 68,650 men! And such has been the imposing118 effect of this table, that many English writers, while they could detect the falsehood of other statements in that same volume, still accepted, as an undeniable fact, the conclusion, that Napoleon’s army at Waterloo consisted of only 68,650 men! Yet only common prudence119, and the use of a little careful scrutiny120, was needed, to prove that these same elaborate tables in “Book ix” were nothing more than what is usually called, in railway language, “a cooked account.”
The proof of this shall be given from French writers alone. And, first, let “Book ix” refute itself, by its own self contradictions. At page 71, it gives the second corps, 19,800 infantry; while at p. 95-97, it states the same infantry, at the same moment, at 21,000. At page 128 it gives the first corps 16,500 infantry, and at table F it calls the same infantry, 17,600. At page 128 the cavalry of the Guard and the third and fourth corps of cavalry are stated at 10,000; while at pp. 158 and 173 they are twice called 12,000. At p. 35 we are told that “the regiments generally had but two battalions; each battalion consisting of 600 men, present and under arms.” Yet in the principal table, F, the regiments are always estimated at either 1000 or 1100 men, the battalions at 500 or 550. Thus it is abundantly clear, even from the pages of “Book ix” itself, that its writer is one who “plays at fast and loose with figures.”
But other refutations, from purely121 French sources, are abundant. We have seen that Napoleon states, in “Book ix,” p. 35, that his battalions had 600 men; but that he quietly puts them down in table F, as being only 500 or 550.
Now in his portfolio122, captured at Charleroi, and published at Brussels, there was one report, made by an officer named De Launoy, and dated[384] “Montalimert, June 4th,” which said, “The first battalion, 720 strong, marched on the 1st of June.” And, in the Moniteur of May 28th, published at Paris under Napoleon’s own authority, there was given a letter dated “Lille, May 26th,” which says, “Our garrison is entirely123 composed of battalions of select troops, which successively arrive: the 20th arrived yesterday; almost all consist of 720 men; we are expecting two battalions of veterans.” Now these troops formed part of the first corps, as stated in “Book ix,” p. 31; and in table F they are all set down as having in each battalion, 550 men!
It was of this first corps that Marshal Ney spoke in his letter of June 26th, 1815, in which he complained of having it taken away from him on the 16th. He describes it as having consisted of “between 25,000 and 30,000 men.” He must have had the actual returns in his pocket when he wrote this. Now if the battalions generally consisted of 720 men, as the Moniteur of May 28th had told us, then its thirty-two battalions would have contained 23,040; which added to 1400 cavalry, and 1564 artillery men, would be accurately124 described as “between 25,000 and 30,000 men.” But Napoleon, in his statement of the force at Waterloo, sets down the infantry of this corps as only 16,500; thus contradicting at once the statement of the Moniteur, the report found in his own portfolio, and the declaration of the Marshal who commanded that corps!
In the same spirit, in the table of the troops at Waterloo, (Book ix, p. 128,) we find the infantry of the Guard set down as being 11,500. Yet Gourgaud, Napoleon’s Aide-de-Camp, and Fleury de Chaboulon, his secretary, both concur125 in stating this infantry to have been 14,000.[20]
Of the heavy cavalry we have already seen, that while Napoleon, in his table, at p. 128, sets it down at 4000, 3000, and 3000, or 10,000 in all, he afterwards twice describes it, at p. 158 and at p. 173, as “these 12,000 select horse.”
Once more, in “Book ix,” p. 129, he states the force detached under Grouchy to have been 34,300. His own companion at St. Helena, General Montholon, in his history, (vol. i, p. 14,) calls this force 42,000.
All this evidence, then, drawn from several quarters, but wholly French, points to one conclusion,—namely, that Napoleon, in forming his tables for “Book ix,” deliberately reduced his real strength at Waterloo by about one-fourth or one-fifth; and that his first statement, in his bulletin issued at the time, was the true one; namely, that his army was only somewhat “less numerous than 95,000.”
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And to this conclusion a remarkable126 support is found, in the behaviour of the two Generals on the day preceding the action. Wellington had beaten nearly every one of Napoleon’s Marshals;[21]—and could not but feel a degree of exultation127 at the thought of meeting the master of them all. Napoleon, on his part, had to encounter a General who had never been conquered. Supposing, then, the armies to have been nearly equal in strength, what might have been anticipated, but a degree of eager anticipation128 on Wellington’s side, and of seriousness on Napoleon’s? Instead of which, what do we hear? The Duke writes to Marshal Blucher, that he will accept battle, if the Marshal will assist him with one corps of his army. Meanwhile, Napoleon’s only anxiety is lest the English should escape him. “He was surprised,” writes his secretary, Fleury, “when daylight discovered to him that the English army had not quitted its positions, but appeared disposed to accept battle.” “He returned to his head-quarters (Book ix, p. 125) full of satisfaction at the great fault committed by the enemy’s General.” “He held this,” says Brialmont, “to be rashness, and a fault, exclaiming, ‘At last, then, I have them,—these English!’” Do not these views and anticipations129, on the part of both of the Generals, make it quite evident that each of them was fully aware of the great superiority of the French army; and of the temerity130 of which the Duke would be guilty if, without any assurance of support, he ventured on an engagement in the face of such odds131?
It is worth remark, too, that while several of the best English writers have accepted with the most good-natured simplicity132, Napoleon’s own account of the force with which he fought this battle—French historians, even when admirers of Napoleon, show much less faith in his assertions. Thus, Lamartine, having Napoleon’s ixth Book before him, in which the number, “sixty-eight thousand, six hundred and fifty men,” is strenuously133 insisted on—quietly disregards the fiction, and repeatedly speaks of the French force as being “eighty thousand men.”[22]
But Napoleon’s “certainty of success,” of which he speaks at p. 127 of his Book ix, rested more upon the superior quality of his troops than on their superior numbers. He was thoroughly134 well aware, both of the slight value of the Belgian and Hanoverian auxiliaries, and of the excellence135 of his own troops. And the Duke, also, knew full well both of[386] these facts. On the 8th of May he had written to Lord Stewart, “I have got an infamous136 army; very weak and ill-equipped; and a very inexperienced staff.” And seven days after the battle, he repeated to Lord Bathurst, that he had got “not only the worst troops, but the worst-equipped army, with the worst staff, that ever was brought together.”[23]
On the other hand, Napoleon’s army was, for its amount, the finest that he had ever led into the field. Thus his secretary, Fleury, says, “The whole army was superb, and full of ardour.” Lamartine speaks of it as “his grand army of chosen men; every battalion of which had a soul equal to the utmost extremity137.” Napoleon himself, in “Book ix,” says: “The spectacle was really magnificent: the earth seemed proud of being trod by such intrepid combatants.” And at St. Helena he told O’Meara: “My troops were so good, that I esteemed139 them sufficient to beat a hundred and twenty thousand.”[24]
Thus, as Brialmont remarks, whatever might be the numerical proportion of the two armies, “when we come to look at the respective qualities of the troops, the inferiority of the Anglo-Belgian army was enormous. Not only was it composed of heterogeneous140 elements, but it consisted almost entirely of young soldiers, a large proportion of whom had never been under fire. The Hanoverian contingent141 was made up of militia; and many regiments were fit only for garrison duty.”[25]
The evening which preceded the memorable142 18th of June was dark and cloudy; the rain fell in torrents143, and the men were often ankle-deep in water. But, however deplorable might be their outward condition, the interest of this eventful moment rendered the combatants on either side, almost insensible to physical sufferings. Every man in both armies knew that a great and decisive battle was to be fought on the following day. With the opening morning, then, would begin what might prove the final contest,—ending a strife of nations which had lasted more than twenty years. The two greatest Generals of the age were for the first time to be brought into collision: the conqueror of Europe was to measure swords with the deliverer of Spain. No two such leaders, it has been well observed, had confronted each other, since Hannibal and Scipio met at Zama.
Doubtless, and very naturally, the greatest degree of confidence was felt in the camp of the invaders. The French soldiers relied with reason[387] on the extraordinary talents of their great leader, victorious in fifty contests, foiled in scarcely any. The men who stood by his side, too, were the veterans who had marched triumphantly144 over many victorious fields, and who now felt defeat, under such a Captain, to be scarcely possible. They were confident, too, in their numbers. All of them had heard that the Emperor had carried over the frontier a picked army of 150,000 men. They saw on the heights around them the first and second corps, amounting together to nearly 50,000 men, with the sixth, less numerous, in reserve. The Imperial Guard was there, from 18,000 to 20,000 strong,—the finest troops that France had ever possessed145, and the cuirassiers, nearly 6,000 in number. What could a mixed force of a few English, joined with Belgians, Hanoverians, and Dutchmen, do against such a power?
Very naturally, therefore, we learn from Gourgaud, that “the French troops were full of enthusiasm. Such were the acclamations of joy, that they prevented the orders from being heard.”[26] From Napoleon to his Generals, from the Generals to the troops, the feeling had spread and become universal. “Ah! we have them, then,—these English!”
The British troops had not the same ground of confidence. They knew well that their own numbers did not amount to one-third of the strength of Napoleon’s army, and that the Hanoverian and Belgian landwehr, by whom their line was to be filled up, were of very uncertain value. Many of the battalions, both English and foreign, had never been in action before. Still, they had a great and well-founded trust in their Commander; and with a spirit like his own, they meant to do their duty, and while they lived, to stand their ground.
The field of Waterloo, or the heights of Mont St. Jean, as the English and the French respectively call this spot, is a piece of slightly-elevated ground lying, as we have already said, about 1000 yards in advance of the village of Waterloo. Brussels, in which Napoleon intended to sleep that night, was about nine miles in the rear of the English army. The main road from Charleroi to Brussels passed through the French position, descended146 into the valley, and then ascended147 Mont St. Jean, cutting the English position at right angles near a farm-house called La Haye Sainte. The English line lay about 200 yards behind this farm-house. Here was the centre and left centre. In advance of the right wing of the English army, and between it and the left wing of the French, stood a larger house, surrounded by walled gardens and orchards149, and called[388] Hougoumont. As this place would have afforded great advantages to the French in preparing attacking columns, the Duke placed in it some companies of the Foot-Guards, with some Nassau and Hanoverian troops, and enjoined150 its resolute151 defence. Well were his orders obeyed, for the utmost efforts of a whole army corps of the French were ineffectual to carry this position. The French lost 6 or 8000 men in the attempt, but up to the very close of the day the English Foot-Guards maintained their possession.
The position of Waterloo was deliberately chosen by the Duke, and the choice is commended by all unprejudiced critics. Yet Napoleon, ungenerous throughout, strives to depreciate152 his antagonist’s judgment153 in this particular. He says, in “Book ix:”—“The English General had in his rear the defiles155 of the forest of Soignes, so that if beaten, retreat was impossible” (p. 125). Upon which M. Lamartine observes: “In fighting on the borders of a forest fortified156 in all its approaches, as well as by its own impenetrability, the Duke had every pledge of victory, if victory was possible; and of a secure retreat if defeat were unavoidable. Waterloo was an admirable field of battle, and it is to be regretted that Napoleon has not acknowledged this, but has obstinately158 striven to prove that his conqueror was unworthy of him. These are the littlenesses of glory. The choice of Waterloo on Wellington’s part was a further mark of that genius, at once resolute, powerful, and prudent159, which has characterized all the campaigns of this General.”
It should be added, that the Duke, during five years of constant warfare160 with the French armies, had never once been beaten by them in a pitched battle. Nor had he any thought of retreating upon the present occasion, or any desire to make a special provision for such an emergency. In after years he dropped the remark: “I knew that they could never so beat us, but that we could have made good the forest against them.”
And now the several divisions of the two armies were placed in the positions which to the two commanders seemed suitable. On the left of Napoleon’s line he placed his second corps, which he himself states to have consisted of 17,000 men, and which undoubtedly161 was nearer 20,000. This corps, to which his brother Jerome was attached, was ordered to seize upon Hougoumont, and then to attack the right of the British army. Napoleon’s right wing was formed of his first corps, under Ney’s command. This corps had not yet been in action, and was complete. Napoleon sets down its strength us 17,900 men; but Ney, who commanded it, describes it as “from twenty-five to thirty thousand.”[389] In the second line stood the sixth corps, consisting of 7 or 8000 men; the heavy cavalry, of about 7000; and in a third line stood the Imperial Guard, which, of cavalry and infantry, had at least 18,000. The artillery numbered more than 6000 men, with 240 cannon. The entire force was probably described with truth in Napoleon’s bulletin of the battle, in which he calls it “less than 95,000.”
Against these the Duke had to place in position, on the opposite heights, his 15,181 British infantry, his 3,300 infantry of the German Legion, and about 28,000 Belgians, Hanoverians, and Brunswickers. Many of these showed themselves, in the battle, unable to stand a French attack. In the second line he had 7,840 English and German cavalry, and about 4,500 Belgians, Hanoverians, and Brunswickers. His artillery (English, Belgian, &c.,) were 5,600 and his guns, 156. At Hal and Enghien, on the road from Mons to Brussels, the Duke placed a detachment of 5,819 men to guard against any possible device in that quarter. These could take no part in the battle, being fixed162 by their orders at a distance of several miles from it.
The Duke had slept for a few hours at his headquarters in the village of Waterloo, and then rising before dawn on the morning of the 18th he wrote several letters, in which he expressed his confidence that all would go well, but still gave specific orders for all that was to be done in Brussels, Antwerp, &c., in the event of the success of the French attack. He then saw to the distribution of the reserves of artillery, which had been packed in the village, so that supplies should be readily forwarded to every point where they might be needed. He also personally inspected the arrangements made for the reception of the wounded. Then mounting his horse Copenhagen, he rode to Hougoumont, and thence down a lane leading through the wood beyond it. Halting on the eastern slant47 of the thicket163, he narrowly surveyed all of the enemy’s arrangements that could be seen. Then giving some final orders at Hougoumont, he galloped165 back to the high ground in the right centre of his position, where he began to chat with the members of his staff with as much liveliness as if they were about to take part in an ordinary review.
There was now a pause of considerable duration. This was one of the chief mistakes committed by Napoleon. He had before him, as he well know, an army exceedingly inferior to his own; so inferior, in short, that it was a matter of joyful166 surprise to him that the Duke had not decamped in the night. But on his right he knew that there was Grouchy with less than 40,000 men, opposed to Blucher, who had 80,000 or[390] 90,000. It was obvious to every one that the Prussian general might, and probably would, engage Grouchy with one or two corps, and carry the rest of his army to the succour of the English. It was, then, a great error not to use the present opportunity with decision and rapidity. He accounts for the delay by the state of the ground; but when Grouchy justified167 his inertness168 at Wavre by the same plea, Napoleon exclaims, in “Book ix,” p. 153, “The dreadful state of the weather, ridiculous motive!”
The village clock was striking eleven when the first gun was fired from the French centre, and this great battle began, which only ended with the darkness of night. There has never been a battle which was so distinctly divided, like a drama, into four or five acts. These were: 1. The attack on Hougoumont and the English right; 2. The attack on La Haye Sainte and the English centre and left; 3. The irruption of the French heavy cavalry upon the centre of the English position; 4. The Prussian diversion; 5. The charge of the Imperial Guard, and final defeat of the French army. These several acts or stages in this great contest usually followed each other at intervals169 of about two hours, i.e. at 11, at 1, at 3, at 5, and at 7 o’clock. There cannot, therefore, be a better way of obtaining a clear idea of the progress of this tremendous struggle, than by passing in review these five acts or stages, just us they occurred, and distinctly from each other.
ELEVEN O’CLOCK.
Precisely at this hour the French artillery opened fire upon the orchards of Hougoumont, and Jerome, with his division, moved forward to the attack. As we have seen, Napoleon himself assigns to his second corps, to whom this duty was assigned, a strength of 17,900 men; and, reasoning upon his uniform practice of diminishing his real numbers, we may safely estimate its real force at 20,000. This corps was to storm and take Hougoumont, and then, from this position, to annoy and perhaps to attack with success, the Duke’s right. But it never succeeded even in its first object. The whole power of these 18,000 or 20,000 men failed to carry a post which was never garrisoned170 by so many us 2,800. Thus, Gourgaud tells us that at noon “Prince Jerome with his division took possession of the wood: he was driven out, but a new attack once more rendered him master of it. The enemy, however, kept possession of the largo171 house in the centre.” Again, at half-past four, he says, “General Reille supported the attack of Jerome’s division by Foy’s division. (Each being 5,000 or 6,000 strong.)[391] Howitzers had set fire to the house and nearly destroyed it; three-fourths of the wood was in our possession; the fields were strewed172 with the English guards, the flower of the enemy’s army.” But beyond this partial success the French never attained173. They never carried the chateau174 itself, but in the attempt they lost from 6,000 to 8,000 men, while the killed and wounded of the defenders175 amounted to a few hundreds only. This portion of the battle lasted from noon until night, and all that the French could boast of, was, that with five or seven times the number of the British, they obtained possession of “three-fourths of the wood.”[27] Napoleon says, in “Book ix,” “The wood remained in the possession of the French; but the chateau, in which some hundreds of intrepid English troops defended themselves, opposed an invincible176 resistance.”[28]
ONE O’CLOCK.
But now, having commenced the battle by this vehement177 assault on Hougoumont by his left wing, Napoleon prepared what he admits to be his main attack, on the Duke’s centre and left, by Count d’Erlon’s whole corps, led by Marshal Ney. This was the corps which had not been engaged at either Ligny or Quatre Bras. Napoleon states its strength at 17,900; but Ney more frankly describes it us between “twenty-five and thirty thousand.” This force was directed against the centre of the English position. Throughout the day Napoleon seemed to rely on mere strength. He knew that he was superior on every point, in each branch of the service, and in every particular, and he had never experienced the obstinate157 endurance of the English infantry. Thus, as the Duke afterwards said, “He did not man?uvre at all. He just moved forward, in the old style, in columns, and was driven off in the old style.”
Great were the expectations based on this attack. Napoleon himself said to Ney: “This is a day and an action worthy86 of you: I give you the command of the centre; and it is you who are to gain the battle.”[29] But while all the French accounts admit the vast importance which was attached to this, the main attack, they entirely forget to say what was the result of it. Thus Gourgaud writes: “The Emperor directed Marshal[392] Ney to commence the attack, and to take possession of La Haye Sainte;” “Our infantry advanced;” “The enemy’s line, however, made no man?uvre; it maintained its immobility. His cavalry made several successful charges on the flank of one of the columns of the first corps, and about 15 of our pieces of artillery, which were advancing, were driven back into a hollow road. One of Milhaud’s brigades of Cuirassiers advanced against this cavalry, and the field of battle was soon covered with their slain. When the Emperor perceived that some disorder prevailed on our right, he proceeded at full gallop164.”[30]
Napoleon says, in “Book ix,” “Many charges of infantry and cavalry followed it; the detail of them belong more to the history of each regiment60, than to the general history of the battle; it is enough to say, that after three hours’ fighting, the farm of La Haye Sainte was occupied by the French infantry; while the end which the Emperor had in view was obtained.”[31]
Thus, from the French accounts, we gain no intelligible178 information as to the actual result of this attack of 25,000 men on the English centre; except, indeed, that Gourgaud’s single phrase, “the enemy’s line maintained its immobility,” tacitly implies that the attack failed. We turn, then, to the English narrators, and learn from them what actually occurred.
“Seventy-four guns” (“Book ix,” says eighty) were ordered forward to a little elevation179, so as to bring their fire to bear upon the English line at a range of about 700 yards. Soon after, as two o’clock approached, the columns of attack, under Ney’s command, were seen descending180 from their elevated ground, crossing the valley, and ascending181 the northern slope. The British artillery gave them a warm reception; but still the columns pressed on, until they approached the Duke’s line, near the centre and left centre. Here were placed the brigade of Sir Thomas Picton, about 3000 strong; and a Belgic-Dutch brigade under Bylandt. As the French columns drew near, with shouts of “Vive l’Empereur!” the courage of the Belgians gave way, and the whole brigade, amidst the groans182 and hooting183 of the British soldiers, begun a hasty movement to[393] the rear, from which they could not be induced to advance during the whole remainder of the day.
Left thus to himself, to sustain the whole attack of twice or three times his numbers, the gallant104 Picton never hesitated. Forming his little band two deep, he waited till the French column came within charging distance. It then halted, and endeavoured to deploy184 into line. Saluting185 it, at this moment, with a volley from his whole brigade, Picton gave the word “Charge!” and his men sprang forward with the bayonet. In an instant the whole French column was in confusion; and before they had time to recover themselves, Ponsonby’s brigade of heavy cavalry, the Royals, the Scots Greys, and the Enniskilleners, broke in upon them, and in a few moments the whole side of the hill was covered with fugitives186. The heroic leader of “the fighting division,” however, the gallant Picton, fell, shot through the brain in the moment of triumph. Another fierce encounter was at hand. Milhaud’s Cuirassiers were close behind the French columns, and they essayed to retrieve187 the fight. But the Household Brigade met them, and after a desperate encounter—of the best horsemen in England and the best in France—the whole mass of the French, horse and foot, were driven back in confusion, leaving behind them the eagles of the 45th and 105th regiments, and nearly 3000 prisoners. The grand attack of Ney on the British centre had failed; and the first corps of the French army was so seriously cut up and disorganized, as to be in no condition to renew the attack. We now understand Gourgaud’s confessions188, “The enemy’s cavalry made several successful charges on the flank of one of the columns of the first corps;” and, “when the Emperor perceived that some disorder prevailed on our right, he proceeded thither189 at full gallop.”
It was now considerably190 past two o’clock. The principal attack had been repelled191: the English position had not been forced, or even endangered. “The enemy’s line,” says Gourgaud, “maintained its immobility.” But Napoleon’s second corps had been beaten and much damaged at Hougoumont; and now his first was crippled and nearly disabled in front of La Haye Sainte. In this strait, either Ney or Napoleon, or both of them, still confident in their superior strength, had recourse to a desperate measure, which had, indeed, a probability of success; but which, if it failed, would involve a serious danger.
They had, still untouched, or nearly so, a reserve of what Napoleon himself styles, “twelve thousand select horse,” the two corps of Cuirassiers, the light cavalry of the Guard, and the horse grenadiers and dragoons[394] of the Guard. There need be no dispute as to the strength of this force, since Napoleon himself twice states it to have been 12,000.
THREE O’CLOCK.
At this period of the battle, then, desperate at the two failures on the left and on the right, either Ney or his master launched this enormous mass of “select cavalry” against the centre of the British line. The error, if it is one, is sought by Napoleon to be charged on somebody else. In his bulletin, written at the time, he says:—
“Our two divisions of cuirassiers being engaged, all our cavalry ran at the same moment to support their comrades.”
Gourgaud endeavours to cast the blame upon Ney, saying:—
“Marshal Ney, borne away by excess of ardour, lost sight of the orders he had received; he debouched on the level height, which was immediately crowned by two divisions of Milhaud’s cuirassiers, and the light cavalry of the Guard. The emperor observed to Marshal Soult, “This is a premature194 movement, which may be attended with fatal consequences.”
These accounts would represent Napoleon himself famous for his rapidity and decision, to have had no command over his own troops. They are, therefore, not credible.
But remembering that Napoleon was himself at this moment in a forward position, and that the heavy cavalry placed in the rear as a reserve force must have defiled195 past him, we must at least believe him to have permitted this movement. Gourgaud says that Ney ordered forward Milhaud’s Cuirassiers, and that “the emperor ordered Kellerman’s corps to support him.” Colonel Heymes, aide-de-camp to Ney, says, “That movement took place under the eyes of the emperor, who might have stopped it, but did not.” Still as he afterwards, in private conversation, charged the fault on Ney,[32] we must suppose that the marshal, in his desperation, called for the reserve of cavalry, and that Napoleon permitted him to employ them. However this might be, it is certain that about three or four o’clock—the attack of the first corps on the centre and left of the English having failed, the whole mass of the “cavalry of reserve,” was brought forward and thrown upon the centre of the Duke’s position. Such an assault has rarely been made upon any other army in modern times. Deducting the troops in Hougoumont, and[395] the losses from four hours’ fighting, there could not have been at this moment so many as 12,000 British infantry in the whole line. Yet it is from Napoleon’s own narrative that we learn, that upon this weak array there was launched a mass of 12,000 heavy horse, 6,000 of whom wore armour196, and who seemed, in their united strength, able positively197 to ride down the insignificant198 force of resolute soldiers who still kept the heights of Mont St. Jean.
The British accounts generally divide this tremendous onset199 of the cavalry into two attacks, the first, between three and four o’clock, when forty squadrons, twenty-one of them being composed of cuirassiers, ascended the heights behind La Haye Sainte; the second perhaps an hour later, when the first assailants, having found it difficult to maintain their ground were rallied behind thirty-seven fresh squadrons sent by Napoleon to their succour. And this agrees with Gourgaud’s account who tells us, first, that “Ney debouched upon the level height, with Milhaud’s Cuirassiers and the light cavalry of the Guard,” and then adds, a little after, that “the Emperor directed Kellerman’s Cuirassiers to support the cavalry on the height lest it should be repulsed201.” It is clear, therefore, that the first onset of 5,000 or 6,000 men had failed, or was in danger of failing, when Napoleon sent forward a second until, as he himself says, the whole “twelve thousand select horse” were involved in the struggle.
How it was that this tremendous attack failed, it is not easy at this distance of time to understand. The whole of the infantry in the British line were quickly formed into squares; the front ranks kneeling and presenting fixed bayonets, and the second and third lines keeping up a constant fire of musketry. The artillery, also, saluted202 the intruders with grape-shot; but many of the British guns were soon taken possession of by the cuirassiers. The Duke, always prepared for every emergency, had instructed the artillerymen that they should, on the approach of danger, take off a wheel and retire with it into the nearest square of infantry. Thus the cuirassiers, when they had seized a gun, found themselves hampered with it, and while they were trying to carry it off, the musketry of the British squares thinned their numbers.
Wellington, in describing the battle in a letter to Marshal Beresford, said, “I had the infantry for some time in squares, and the French cavalry walking about us as if it had been our own.”
There probably never was such a trial of “pluck” as this part of the contest presented. It was a hand-to-hand struggle, lasting203 two or three[396] hours. Had a regiment of cuirassiers ever found courage enough to throw themselves on the British bayonets, there can be little doubt that some of the weaker squares might have been broken. But this never once occurred. Gourgaud, indeed, says, “Our cavalry penetrated204 many of the enemy’s squares, and took three standards,” but he must here be speaking of the Belgian or Hanoverian troops, many of whom were unsteady, and some of whom were scattered and cut up. There was, in fact, no absolute reliance to be placed on any but the British troops, and some of the best of the German. A whole Dutch-Belgian brigade, on the approach of the cuirassiers, moved off without firing a shot. After several charges of the British horse upon portions of the French cavalry, Lord Uxbridge put himself at the head of Tripp’s brigade of Dutch-Belgian carabineers, and ordered them to charge; and so they did, but not until they had first turned their backs to the enemy! Somewhat later, he ordered forward the Hanoverian regiment called the Cumberland hussars; but the colonel “did not see what good was to be done” by moving him from his snug205 position, which was out of reach of the firing. He added, that he could not answer for his men, for that they rode their own horses, and could not afford to lose them! Receiving from Lord Uxbridge the vehement reproof206 which might have been expected, he and his men moved off to Brussels, where they spread the report that the allied army was destroyed, and that Napoleon was advancing at the head of his Guards!
Yet this tremendous attack failed, as the two preceding attacks had done. And its failure was one chief cause of Napoleon’s ruin. He had risked his cavalry reserve, and had lost it. For it is a remarkable and wonderful fact, that, continuing this struggle for two or three hours, this splendid body of “twelve thousand select cavalry” was wholly destroyed. Individuals, and parties of fugitives, doubtless escaped, and their number in the aggregate207 might be considerable; but this arm of the service was utterly disabled. In his Bulletin, Napoleon said, “For three hours numerous charges were made, several squares penetrated, and six standards taken;—an advantage bearing no proportion to the loss which our cavalry experienced by the grape-shot and musket-firing.” Fleury de Chaboulon, his secretary, says, “Our cavalry, exposed to the incessant208 firing of the enemy’s batteries and infantry, sustained and executed numerous brilliant charges, took six flags, and dismounted several batteries; but in this conflict we lost the flower of our intrepid cuirassiers, and of the cavalry of the Guard.” He[397] adds, that on reaching Paris, and describing the battle, the emperor said, “Ney behaved like a madman!—he got my cavalry massacred for me.” And it is the chief complaint of all the French accounts, that when at the close of the day the English horse swept over the field, the Emperor had not a single regiment of cavalry to oppose to them![33] The “twelve thousand select cavalry” had broken into the English position; but, except as scattered fugitives, they never returned!
FIVE O’CLOCK.
But the battle had now lasted six hours, and Napoleon had allowed his opportunity to pass away. Five o’clock brought the Prussians; and after they had entered the field a decisive victory for Napoleon became impossible.
Bent209 on his object of proving that he had been not so much beaten as overpowered by numbers, Napoleon in his “Book ix,” brings the Prussians into the field at noon-day! In doing this he does not scruple79 to employ the most direct and obvious falsehood. To give a single instance,—Gourgaud, his aide-de-camp, in his account of the battle, thus writes:
“It was half-past four o’clock, and the most vigorous fire was still kept up on every side. At this moment General Domont informed his Majesty210 that he observed Bulow’s corps in movement, and that a division of 8,000 or 10,000 Prussians was debouching from the woods of Frischenois.”
Yet in “Book ix” Napoleon does not hesitate to say: At two o’clock in the afternoon General Domont had given notice that Bulow formed in three columns; that the enemy appeared to him to be very numerous,—he estimated the corps at 40,000 men.”
But he does not even postpone211 their arrival until two o’clock:—two pages earlier he insists upon it that he saw them, in the distance, at noon.[34] Now as it is absolutely certain that, with the greatest exertion212, the earliest of the Prussian brigades were unable to reach the field until[398] half-past four, we may be sure that at twelve o’clock they must have been eight or ten miles off! Hence this passage in “Book ix” must either be a downright fiction; or else Napoleon must have discovered on a distant hill a party of the Prussian staff who had ridden forward to observe the position of affairs, and who must have been magnified by his alarms into an army-corps!
The real time of the arrival of the Prussians is one of the most clearly-defined facts of the whole history. All the witnesses agree upon it. We have just cited Gourgaud’s words, that “at half-past four General Domont observed a division of 8,000 to 10,000 Prussians debouching from the woods of Frischenois.”
In strict agreement with which the Prussian official account says.
“It was half-past four o’clock.... The difficulties of the road had retarded213 the march of the Prussian columns; so that only two brigades had arrived at the covered position which was assigned them. The generals resolved to begin the attack with the troops which they had at hand.”[35]
And General Drouet, who was at Napoleon’s side during the action, said, in his speech in the Chamber214 of Peers on the 24th of June, 1815,—“The Prussians began to attack us at about half-past five in the afternoon.”
It is quite clear, then, and beyond all dispute, that the Prussians first began to enter the field of battle, and to be visible to the French at half-past four in the afternoon; that the Prussian commanders immediately proceeded to make arrangements for an attack;—and that their first collision with the French troops took place about half-past five in the afternoon.
But Napoleon had been forewarned of their approach; for his flying parties had brought in, he tells us, two or three hours before, a Prussian hussar who was bearing a letter to the Duke of Wellington, announcing that General Bulow and his corps were on their march. Hence Napoleon had already set apart his sixth corps, under Count Lobau, to receive the Prussians whenever they should make their appearance.
He introduces at this period many complaints of Marshal Grouchy, who, he pretends, ought to have followed Bulow’s corps, and have taken part in the battle of Waterloo. This is the very height of injustice215 and absurdity216; since he had employed Grouchy distinctly to follow and[399] occupy the attention of the main body of the Prussian army; and in obedience217 to this command the marshal was at that moment engaged with the Prussian third corps at Wavre. But, on looking at Napoleon’s first bulletin of the battle, we see that this aspersion218 of Grouchy is an afterthought,—a mere device to lessen219 his own defeat. Writing at the time, and giving to France a full account of the battle, in that bulletin not one word of any default of Grouchy’s appears.
This, of itself, is enough to show the hollowness of the excuse for the loss of the battle. Grouchy himself, when the “ixth Book” made its appearance, instantly wrote and published an indignant denial of its statements; and Brialmont remarks, that “Napoleon has so expressed himself to make it clear that he was anxious to diminish the amount of his own responsibility by sacrificing the reputation of his subordinates. Thus he pretends that he received on the night of the 17th a letter from Grouchy, which letter never could have existed.”
But Gourgaud himself, Napoleon’s own aide-de-camp, is the best witness in exculpation220 of Grouchy. He tells us, that in the afternoon, hearing the cannonade of Waterloo, General Excelmans urged upon Grouchy to leave following the Prussians and to march towards the cannonade. But Grouchy, “though he burnt with desire to take part in the great battle, showed Excelmans his instructions, which were to march upon Wavre, and said, that he could not take such a responsibility on himself.”[36] It is clear therefore, that up to the afternoon of the 18th Grouchy had no other orders than those which bade him follow the Prussians who were in position at Wavre.
Grouchy then, was not at Waterloo, simply because Napoleon had sent him to Wavre, a town some twelve miles distant; and because he was there engaged in a struggle with the third Prussian corps. But the fourth Prussian corps was at Waterloo at five o’clock, because Blucher had promised to send it there, and because Wellington expected it; and gave battle with inferior forces, relying on this assistance. Napoleon ought to have foreseen the probability of all this,—and, foreseeing it, he ought to have delivered his blows more rapidly so as to break the English line, if that were possible, before the Prussians could enter the field. But now that he had allowed his opportunity to pass, and now that Bulow was actually beginning to take part in the battle,—what was the respective strength ranged on either side? This question must be[400] answered; for Napoleon says, “The enemy’s army had just been augmented221 by 30,000 men, already ranged on the held of battle; thus placing 120,000 men against 69,000, or two to one.” (p. 148.) And then he immediately afterwards, adds “It was noon.”
This statement, however, like most of Napoleon’s other statements, is untrue. The Duke’s army had never amounted to 70,000 men, of whom some 10 or 15,000 were merely nominal107 combatants, whom it was impossible to persuade to fight. And Napoleon wilfully222 overlooks the plain averment of the Prussian official account, that when their commanders began the attack,—not at noon, but some time after half-past four, only two brigades, had arrived on the field. Captain Siborne, who took the greatest pains to ascertain13 every fact of the case, states that at half-past four o’clock the Prussian force which had come up, amounted to 16,000 men; which, added to the Duke’s army of 68,000, made a joint223 force of about 84,000; but, if the non-fighting part of the Duke’s army were deducted,—of scarcely 70,000. Thus, even with the addition of the newly-arrived Prussians, the allied force was still numerically weaker than Napoleon’s army.
This diversion, however, which was caused so opportunely224 by Bulow’s arrival, naturally brought great relief to the British line. It drew off Count Lobau’s corps, the sixth, of 7000 men, which might otherwise have been sent forward to attack the British centre. The remark, however, which is sometimes made, that “the English were saved by arrival of the Prussians,” is singularly absurd. Bulow’s arrival was not an unexpected thing; or a lucky chance;—it was a part of the Duke’s plan. He had demanded this aid of Blucher, and had obtained the promise of it, and without this aid, his acceptance of battle would have been an act of great temerity. The arrival of the Prussians, so far from being unexpected, had been calculated on three hours earlier; Blucher having promised that they should be in the field by two o’clock.
And sorely had they been needed. The “thin red line” of the British infantry had scarcely ever found it so difficult to maintain its ground. At this moment, as we have already remarked, there could not have been so many as 12,000 of this branch of the Duke’s army left in position. And yet upon them rested the whole burden of the battle. Some of the German troops behaved gallantly; but of the mixed mass of 25,000 Belgians, Hanoverians, Dutchmen, &c., a large proportion were unable to stand the French attacks. So soon as one of Napoleon’s columns approached them, they became unsteady, and often went to the[401] rear. Meanwhile there still stood in front of the Duke’s right wing, the second corps; and in front of his left wing, the first corps; and all that were left of Napoleon’s “12,000 select cavalry” were riding about the British position, as if they were masters of it. This hour, then, or two hours, from five o’clock till seven, must have been a most anxious one for the British General and his troops. The commander of one brigade sent to the Duke to beg for some relief or reinforcement; and the answer he received was, “Tell him, that what he wishes is impossible. He, and I, and every man here, must fight till we die on the spot where we stand.” Some one asked for a general instruction, as to what plan should be followed if the Duke himself should fall. “My only plan,” said the Duke, “is to stand my ground here to the last man.” Long after the battle, he remarked, of this period of the day, “I looked oftener at my watch than at anything else. I knew that if my troops could keep their position till night, I must be joined by Blucher before morning; and we should not have left Bonaparte an army next day. But I was glad, as one hour of day-light slipped away after another, and our position was still maintained.” It is scarcely possible for words to imply more distinctly, that the Duke felt that he was standing his ground with an inferior force; relying on Blucher’s aid, to enable him to strike a blow in return.
Meanwhile, as he was constantly calm, so he was ever hopeful and high-minded. An Italian officer in the French service, being taken prisoner afterwards described the dismay he felt, on observing the quietness of the Duke’s demeanour, and the calmness of his countenance225; which forced him to think that he must have some concealed226 reserve, of which the French generals knew nothing. His brief remarks, too, were always cheerful and reassuring227. A young Piedmontese officer made himself useful, in carrying orders. “Were you ever in a battle before?” asked the Duke. “No, my lord.” “Then you are a lucky fellow, for you will never see such another!” was the rejoinder. At another time, encouraging the 95th regiment, expecting a charge of cavalry, he said, “Stand fast! 95th, we musn’t be beat; what would they say in England!” Shortly after, when the French cavalry came on with threatening aspect, he said, “Never mind, we’ll win this battle yet!” To a regiment exposed to a brisk cannonade, he remarked, “Hard pounding this! let’s see who’ll pound longest!” Often he was evidently the object of the enemy’s aim, and a tree under which he sometimes took his stand, was repeatedly struck. “That’s good practice,” said the Duke; “I think they fire[402] better than in Spain.” But, as we have said, he was ever high-minded; and when an officer of artillery came to the Duke to tell him, that he had a clear view of Napoleon, and had several guns pointed in that direction, the Duke exclaimed, “No! I’ll not allow it. It is not the business of commanders to be firing upon one another!”
At half-past five, according to Count Drouet, the Prussians first came into collision with the sixth corps, which, with Domont’s cavalry, had been placed on Napoleon’s right wing, specially228 to give these new comers a warm reception. The contest soon became an earnest one on this side; Planchenoit, in the rear of Napoleon’s right centre, was taken, and retaken, and he felt obliged to send some battalions of the Young Guard to strengthen Count Lobau. In this new struggle an hour or more passed, and seven o’clock, the last hour of the day drew on.
Here Gourgaud stops to claim a triumph. He says, “65 to 68,000 French troops had beaten 115,000 English, Prussians, &c.” But then he adds, “The Emperor was of opinion that this was the moment for making a decisive attack, and determining the fate of the day.” So that, although the English and Prussians are assumed to be beaten, the “fate of the day” remains229 “to be determined.”
In fact, not one single step in retreat had the English army yet taken. About six o’clock, indeed, the farm-house of La Haye Sainte was abandoned by its English defenders, simply because their ammunition230 was expended231, and without ammunition they could not defend the place. This was the one solitary232 advantage gained by the French in the whole day; and even this was not wrested233 by them from the English; the post was evacuated235 by the latter for the reason we have stated. And La Haye Sainte, it should be remembered, was about 200 yards in advance of the British line. It was an outpost, and not a part of the main line. Its capture at an earlier period might have seriously endangered the Duke’s centre; but at this late hour Napoleon had but one card left to play, and in playing it the possession of La Haye Sainte did not greatly aid him.
Up to seven o’clock, then, this one poor outpost was the only foot of ground gained by the French, in compensation for what Ney calls “the most frightful236 carnage that I have ever witnessed.” He is not here speaking of the defeat of the Imperial Guard, but of what preceded it. He had led, at one o’clock, the attack by D’Erlon’s corps on the centre and left of the English position, and at three o’clock he had sent the heavy cavalry in among the British battalions. It is of these two attacks[403] that Ney is speaking, and of the manner in which they were repulsed; and this veteran soldier, after witnessing Borodino, Leipsic, and twenty other fields of slaughter, describes the defeat of the first corps, and the destruction of the cavalry, as a “carnage” the like of which he had never before beheld237.
“The Emperor,” says Gourgaud, “was now of opinion that the moment was come for making a decisive attack, and determining the fate of the day.” Yes, the moment was come; for, if the matter had been left as it stood, Napoleon’s overthrow1 on the following morning would have been made certain. “I knew,” said the Duke, long after, “that if my troops could keep their position till night, I must be joined by Blucher before morning, and we should not have left Bonaparte an army next day.” To keep the English and Prussian armies apart had been Napoleon’s chief endeavour, but the sagacity and military talent of the two Generals had defeated this purpose. The French army had only crossed the frontier on the 15th, and here, on the 18th, were the two allied armies already uniting on the same battle-field. When, therefore, Gourgaud tells us, in lofty and decorous language, that “the Emperor was of opinion that this was the moment for making a decisive attack, and determining the fate of the day,” the real meaning of these dignified238 phrases is, that Napoleon saw that one chance only remained to him, and that he must break the British line by the whole force of the Imperial Guard, or retire from the field a discomfited239 commander; to sustain in his turn an attack from the united armies the very next day. His strongest army-corps, the first and second, had both been cut up and crippled; his splendid cavalry were at that moment being “massacred” by the English grapeshot and musket-firing; and the only weapon of power that remained to him was this noble body of men, who had triumphed in fifty battles—his invincible phalanx, the Imperial Guard. At seven o’clock, therefore, or about that hour, he turned to this, his last resource, and ordered to the front this chosen and favourite arm, the right employment of which had given him so many victories.
SEVEN O’CLOCK.
It is not easy, amidst the various and contradictory240 accounts of the different French historians, to ascertain with exactness the real force employed in this attack. The Young Guard, under General Duhesme, had been partly employed in the defence of Planchenoit. The Old Guard,[404] and the Middle Guard, had not up to this period of the battle drawn a trigger. Their strength is stated by Gourgaud to have been on this day 4400 and 4200, or, united, 8600 men.[37] This force far exceeded any strength which the Duke could bring to bear upon any given point. In fact the two brigades of General Maitland and General Adam had to sustain this attack. The first, consisting of two battalions of Foot-guards, had marched forth two days before 1997 strong. On the evening of Waterloo it numbered only 1027; and doubtless, when this attack of the Imperial Guard came, it had not more than 1100 or 1150 bayonets. The other, General Adam’s brigade, consisting of the 52nd, 71st, and 95th regiments, had been 2621 strong, but it was now reduced to about 2000. Such was the force on either side which was now to engage in the last terrible encounter of this great contest.
But, while he was preparing for what he hoped would be the decisive blow, Napoleon sent orders to both his wings to prepare for a renewed attack, simultaneously241, on Hougoumont and on the British left and centre. The chateau defended itself bravely and successfully, as it had done throughout the day. But the possession of La Haye Sainte gave the first corps of the French army great advantages, and the pressure on the British line at this point became fearfully severe. A German battalion was cut up by a charge of French cuirassiers: a body of Brunswick infantry, which the Duke had moved up to strengthen the line, gave way, and retired242 about 100 paces, and it required all the Duke’s personal exertions243 to bring them to reform and stand their ground. The Prince of Orange had been wounded, and the Nassau troops under his command were with great difficulty induced to keep their ground. The British line had never been in so much danger of being broken as at this moment. But scarcely an hour of the day now remained, and the contest which was just taking place on the right centre was to be decisive of the fate of the day.
The grand attack of the Imperial Guard, to which Napoleon looked to decide the fate of his empire, was now beginning. Captain Siborne states the two columns of attack to have consisted of ten battalions, besides two battalions left as a reserve. If these battalions consisted of 600 men each, they would amount to 6000; but if of 720 men each, they would amount, on the whole, to 7200 men, and these were unquestionably the first soldiers in France.
[405]
These columns were formed in front of La Belle244 Alliance, and began their advance with that kind of mismanagement which had marked many of the movements of the French leaders throughout the day; they did not advance simultaneously, but the first column preceded the second, although the two took different courses. Neither did they assail200 that part of the Duke’s line which was the weakest, but threw themselves upon two brigades of the British infantry.
Of the two columns,—one of which skirted the enclosures of Hougoumont, and aimed at the right of the British line, while the other made its onset nearer to the centre,—the latter gained the precedence. As it descended into the valley, and allowed the French artillery on the heights behind an opportunity for action, the whole of these guns opened fire with a rapidity and weight which had not been experienced before throughout the day. Wherever a regiment was visible in the British line, there the round-shot and howitzer shells rained death upon it. But by degrees the attacking columns passed through the hollow ground, and began to ascend148 the opposite heights. Now they became visible to the British artillery, and the cannon-shot plunged245 into their masses with tremendous effect. The horse of Marshal Ney was killed; General Friant was wounded, and General Michel was killed. On the fall of the latter, a battalion of grenadiers came to a halt; but another General succeeded in inspiring it with new courage. The column moved forward, sorely shaken by its losses; but at last it crowned the height, and to its astonishment246 saw nothing before it but a small battery of field-pieces, and a few mounted officers in the rear. But one of these was the Duke, and the next moment the word of command was heard, “Up, Guards, and at them!” The British Guards, who had been ordered to lie down, sprang to their feet, in a compact line of four deep, and in a few seconds, a volley was heard, and then another, and a third; and in the first minute 300 of the attacking column fell. The French officers rushed to the front, and called upon the men to deploy into line. Lord Saltoun exclaimed to the English Guards, “Now’s your time, my boys!”—and the Duke exclaimed, “Charge!” The brigade sprang forward, with a cheer, to the charge. All was disorder in the French ranks. Many flung down their arms and knapsacks and dispersed; the mass, in dire49 confusion, rushed down the slope, with the English Guards in full pursuit.
But the English were instantly called back, for now appeared in sight the second column, which, shrinking from the fire of the batteries which had so crushed the first, diverged247 to the right, and by this mistaken[406] move, presented its flank to General Adam’s brigade. The brigade of Guards was formed in its front, while the 52nd and 71st regiments were on its flank. The three regiments poured such a fire into the mass, that it melted like snow in the sunshine. Soon was repeated the order, “Charge!” and the two brigades assailing248 the devoted249 column at once in its front and on its flank, swept it from the field. In a few moments the hollow ground was crowded with fugitives; Napoleon’s last stake was lost; the battle of Waterloo was, practically, ended.
Of this terrible conflict, Lamartine rapidly sketches250 the progress, in a few glowing lines,—a summary of various French narratives251:
“These 6000 grenadiers advanced with shouldered arms, amidst cries of ‘Vive l’Empereur!’ Wellington awaited them with forty pieces of cannon, with the matches lighted. As they ascended and approached, the battery fired a volley point-blank into the advancing mass, which, as the smoke arose, was seen to waver for a moment; then to close up and advance as compact as ever. On a second discharge the same oscillation took place, the same closing up. On the third discharge the English saw the column reduced to a block of men, decimated by grape-shot:—two of the battalions had been struck down, the other two hesitated, and recoiled252 to seek another means of access to these impregnable heights. Napoleon turned pale, and at length doubted of victory.”
This may be said to be the language of a florid writer, depicting253 the event long after its occurrence. But Count Drouet, who witnessed the whole scene, thus described it in the Chamber of Peers, just six days after the battle:—
“The (first) four battalions of the Guard, when they arrived on the plateau, were received by the most terrible fire of musquetry and grape. The great number of wounded men who separate from the column, cause it to be believed that the Guard is routed. A panic terror communicates itself to the neighbouring (or second) column, which precipitately254 takes flight.”
Count Drouet, witnessing the repulse of both the columns, from the height behind, might suppose that the dispersal of the second arose from panic; but in so thinking, he did injustice to his countrymen. The second column came into action as gallantly us the first; but, although it was the stronger of the two, it had to contend with two English brigades instead of one; and its chance of success was therefore proportionally smaller. Clearly, it was bad generalship to send the two columns, one after the other, to be beaten separately. Had they reached the[407] British position at the same moment, they would have brought against the two British brigades a force outnumbering them by two to one. Gourgaud thus describes the fate of this second column: “The eight battalions of the Guard which were in the centre, after having withstood for a long time all the attacks of the enemy, and contended for every foot of ground, were at last completely disorganized by the mass of the fugitives, and overwhelmed by the numbers of the enemy.”
With the failure of this, his last attack, Napoleon’s hopes, and his empire, ended. His fall, when it came at last, proved a crash which left nothing for destruction to do. At the moment when the Imperial Guards were sent back in confusion, the Prussians under Marshal Blucher had come into action. His cavalry had supported the English left, and two brigades of English cavalry, which guarded the extreme left of the Duke’s position, had been released from this duty, and had moved to the support of the British centre. And now, the Prussian infantry of the first corps, commanded by General Zieten, rushed upon the villages of La Haye and Smohain, and instantly carried them at the bayonet’s point. A third column renewed the attack on Planchenoit, which was almost in the centre of the French position. The moment was come for a general advance, and the Duke, with that wonderful perception which distinguished255 his whole career, instantly seized it. He himself describes this critical moment, in the account written the very next day. He says:—
“Having observed that the troops (Imperial Guard) retired from this attack in great confusion, and that the march of the Prussians on Planchenoit had begun to take effect, I determined to attack the enemy, and immediately advanced the whole line of infantry, supported by the cavalry and artillery.”
An eye-witness thus described the scene at the time, “The Duke, who had been attentively256 observing what was passing in the French and Prussian armies, suddenly shut up his telescope, and exclaimed to the officers near him, ‘Now, every man must advance!’”
Long had this order been eagerly expected. The British troops had stood for more than eight hours under a terrible fire. They had seen more than one-fourth of their numbers struck down by cannon-shot, and they longed for one final struggle, which should end the whole contest. The order flew to the right and to the left, and loud were the shouts with which it was received. Everywhere the lines of infantry were formed, the cavalry mounted and rode on, and a scene of triumph and[408] exultation commenced, of which none who witnessed it could ever lose the memory.
We have observed, a few sentences back, that only half an hour before, two brigades of light cavalry, Vivian’s and Vandeleur’s, had been moved from the extreme left of the English line, and brought nearer to the centre. These six regiments, numbering about 2000 sabres, were now of the greatest possible service, in driving before them the broken and scattered French. They charged and dispersed various bodies of cavalry which attempted to form and make a stand, and continued pressing upon the fugitives of the infantry till the whole mass of Napoleon’s army melted into a chaotic257 crowd. And now were seen, on all sides, “unfurled colours raised aloft, bands striking up, the soldiers cheering tumultuously, as, with one simultaneous movement, they quitted the height on which they had so long stood, and descended joyfully258 into the plain, over which the French, on all sides, were now retreating in disorder.”
Their great commander himself was naturally among the foremost in this magnificent advance. Napier says, “The Duke, who was stationed on the left of the guns and the right of the Guards, gave the order to advance, and like lightning rode to the rear, and brought up the light cavalry, cheering them on, with his hat off—his cheers most cordially echoed by my brave fellows and myself.” He rode in front of Adam’s brigade, cheering it forward, speaking joyously259 to the men, and receiving their hearty260 shouts of congratulation. At last one of his staff ventured to hint to him that they were getting into the enemy’s lines, and that his life ought not to be thrown away. “Never mind,” was the reply, “the battle’s won, and my life is of no consequence now.”
Down the slope of their own heights, across the valley, up the face of the enemy’s hill, marched the British line triumphantly. Here and there a remnant of a French battalion or squadron offered a brief resistance; but the cry of “Sauve qui peut!” had been heard, and the French knew that the battle was lost, and that the Prussians were already in their rear. Hence Fleury de Chaboulon, Napoleon’s own secretary, thus describes the close:—
“Wellington did not allow our grenadiers time to recollect261 themselves. He caused them to be attacked in flank by his cavalry, and compelled them to retire in the greatest disorder. At the same moment the Prussians carried the village of La Haye; and our cavalry, our infantry, already staggered by the defeat of the Guard, were afraid of being cut off, and precipitately retreated. The other troops of the right, seeing[409] some of our squadrons pell-mell, and some of the Guards running away, thought all was lost, and quitted their position. This contagious262 movement was communicated in an instant to the left, and the whole army abandoned its strongest posts as eagerly as they had previously263 assailed264 them. Soon the whole army was nothing but a confused crowd, which the English and Prussians routed without effort, and massacred without pity.”[38]
“Napoleon,” says Lamartine, “saw that army which a few hours before was his only hope, now returning in broken fragments, and exclaimed, ‘All is lost!’ For a moment he contemplated265 the disastrous266 scene, turned pale, stammered267, and shed some tears, the first he had ever shed upon a field of battle.”
On marched the English, seized at every step the artillery which had so long poured its iron hail upon them, and driving before them the crowds of dismayed and disordered French. Up the heights on which Napoleon and his army had stood, they now exultingly268 pressed, and here the two Generals met, with mutual269 congratulations. Marshal Blucher had well performed his part, though the state of the roads had hindered his arrival until the very close of the battle. In less than an hour he had driven in the whole right wing of the French army, and now reached the very centre of Napoleon’s position, at the same moment when the Duke had penetrated to the same point with his attack in front. After a few moments of hearty rejoicing, the English commander gladly resigned to the Prussian, the remaining duty of a vigorous pursuit. The British troops, after a long day’s work, were physically270 unable to chase their enemies far. The Prussian General, therefore, to quote their own accounts, assembled his officers, and gave orders to send the last horse and the last man in pursuit of the enemy.”
Well and earnestly was this duty performed. All night long were the wretched French pursued. Nine times did they attempt to halt for rest, and nine times was the Prussian drum heard, and the flight was again to be resumed. A French officer[39] thus describes the scene:—
“Near one of the hedges of Hougoumont, without even a drummer to beat the rappel, we succeeded in rallying 300 men; these were nearly all that remained of our splendid division. Thither came also a band of Generals. Here was Reille,[40] D’Erlon, Bachelor, Foy, and[410] others. All were gloomy and sorrowful. They said, one to another, ‘Here is all that is left of my corps,—of my division,—of my brigade!—I myself!’
“The enemy’s horse approached, and we were obliged to retreat. The movements of the English cavalry had demoralized our soldiers, who, seeing all regular retreat cut off, strove each man to save himself. Infantry, cavalry, artillery, all jammed together, were pressing along pell-mell. Figure to yourself 40,000 men all struggling along a single causeway. We could not take that way, so we struck across the fields. We were humiliated271, we were hopeless; we walked like a troop of mourners.
“We passed through Thuin, and finding a little copse, we gladly sought its shelter. While our horses grazed, we lay down and slept. We rested in the little copse till noon, and sat watching the wrecks273 of our army defile154 along the road. It was a soul-harrowing sight!
“We drew near to Beaumont, when suddenly a regiment of horse was seen debouching from a wood on our left. The column that we followed cried out, ‘The Prussians! the Prussians!’ and hurried off in utter disorder.
“I was trying to return to General Foy, when another horde274 of fugitives burst into Beaumont, swept me into the current of their flight, and hurried me out of the town with them. I reached Landrecy, though I know not how or when.”
Such is the description given by one of the fugitives, and it exactly corresponds with the official report of the Prussian General, Gneisenau, who says, “The French army, pursued without intermission, was absolutely disorganized. The highway presented the appearance of an immense shipwreck275; it was covered with an innumerable quantity of cannon, caissons, baggage, arms, and goods of every kind. As soon as the enemy heard the sound of our drums, they fled, while the moonlight favoured the pursuit, for the whole march was a continued chase, whether in the corn-fields or in the houses.”
“At three o’clock Napoleon had despatched a courier to Paris with the news that victory was certain: a few hours afterwards he had no longer an army.”
The French accounts, Gourgaud’s, Napoleon’s, &c., written long after, endeavour to diminish the defeat by representing that within a week as many us 60 or 65,000 men were re-assembled at Laon. Some one attempted to make a representation of this sort in the French Chamber of Peers, on the 24th of June; when Marshal Ney rose in his place, and[411] declared all such accounts to be deceptive276. “It is a mere illusion to suppose that 60,000 men can be collected. Marshal Grouchy,” said he, “cannot have more than 20,000, or 25,000 at the most.”
Fortunately, however, the question is set at rest by Fleury de Chaboulon, Napoleon’s secretary, who describes very vividly277 what followed immediately after the battle. He tells us, how, in his flight, on meeting Maret, “the Emperor could not repress his emotion; a large tear, escaping from his eyes, betrayed the efforts of his soul.” Again he says, “The Emperor stopped beyond Rocroi to take some refreshment278. We were all in a pitiable state: our eyes swelled279 with tears, our countenances281 haggard, our clothes covered with dust or blood.” And, on arriving at Paris, when one of his ministers spoke of the army, Napoleon exclaimed, “I have no longer an army! I have nothing but fugitives!”[41]
It was this absolute destruction of the French army which made Waterloo one of the greatest and most important of all victories. Thus, Jules Maurel, a French historian, says:—
“From a comparison of all the documents, it appears, that Bonaparte was already beaten when the mass of the Prussian army appeared on the field; but the arrival of Bulow had powerfully assisted the British, and the arrival of Blucher changed the defeat into an unparalleled disaster.”
Lamartine, another Frenchman, adds:—
“This defeat left nothing undecided,—nothing for the future to do. Victory had given judgment: the war began and ended in a single battle.”
But let us return for a moment to the great victor of the day. At a road-side house, near Rossomme, he left Blucher, who gladly undertook the pursuit, and after twelve hours of constant exertion, he turned his charger’s head once more towards Mont St. Jean and Waterloo. Darkness now shrouded282 a thousand scenes of horror, over which it had been useless to pause. At his quarters the Duke found assembled the survivors283 of his staff, the representatives of the allied powers, and a few other friends. All sorely needed rest and food, and the meal was ready. On leaving his quarters in the morning, he had desired his domestics to have dinner ready to place on the table “whenever it might be wanted” and his cook excited amusement by the confidence with which he asserted, that “his master had ordered dinner, and would certainly return to eat it.” But the thoughts which would throng285 into the conqueror’s mind, at that moment, must have been such as few men have ever experienced.
[412]
The foremost considerations with the Duke of Wellington always were, his country, and his duty. But besides these there was a personal question, little spoken of by him, but which could not be excluded from his thoughts.
“I go to measure myself with Wellington,” exclaimed Napoleon, when he flung himself into his carriage, only a few days before, to join his army on the Belgian frontier. The Duke spoke not of such matters, but he could not possibly forget that the muse284 of history was waiting all that day, to know which of the two great names was to take the highest place among the many able commanders of the nineteenth century. The one had defeated, in turn, nearly every general in Europe, except Wellington. The other had triumphed over almost all the Marshals of France, but had not yet confronted Napoleon.
Captain Moyle Sherer thus writes:—
“Upon the night of that memorable battle, the words and emotions of the conqueror will long be remembered by those who sat with him at supper, after the anxious and awful day had closed. The fountain of a great heart lies deep, and the self-government of a calm mind permits no tears. But, this night, Wellington repeatedly leaned back in his chair, and rubbing his hands convulsively, exclaimed, “Thank God! I have met him: Thank God! I have met him.”[42] And, ever as he spoke, the smile that lighted up his eye was dimmed by those few tears that gush286 warm from a grateful heart.
“His many and deep anxieties; his noble desire to defeat his country’s implacable enemy; his rational doubts of success against so great a general;—these and many other fears and hopes, undisclosed to any one, all were now resolved and dissipated by a result more sudden, full, and glorious than any expectation he could have formed, or any hope he could have admitted. England was placed on the very pinnacle287 of glory; her foe was prostrate288, his legions fugitives, and her general might joyfully look around and say, ‘This work was mine!’”
But after necessary food, and the writing of despatches and letters, came such rest as the excited mind and body could take. The Duke threw himself, unwashed but exhausted289, on his bed long after midnight. He had desired Dr. Hume to bring him the report of the surgeons at[413] seven in the morning. The doctor was punctual, but the claims of nature were not satisfied, the Duke’s sleep was still sound. Knowing that, with him, duty was paramount290 to all other considerations, the doctor at once awakened291 him. The list was produced, and the doctor began to read; but as name after name came forth—this one as dying, that as dead—the voice failed, and Hume, looking up, perceived the tears rapidly chasing each other down the victor’s blackened cheeks;—he laid down the list and instantly left the apartment.
The British loss was indeed great. Of the Duke’s staff twelve were killed and forty-six wounded. The number of British officers killed and wounded in these three days exceeded 700, and of privates it was more than 10,000, so that about every third man in the British ranks had been struck down in this terrible battle. The loss of Dutch, Hanoverians, &c., had been 7,000; and that of the Prussians exceeded 6,000. As to the French, their loss in killed and wounded never could be ascertained; but it is certain that of 150,000 men who crossed the frontiers, not 50,000 were ever re-assembled under their colours.
The utter loss of his army sent Napoleon back to Paris. But the news of his total defeat arrived along with him. His fame, his “glory,” and his power perished together. The Chambers292 rose in rebellion against him; and his abdication293 was demanded. The English and Prussian armies, meanwhile, rapidly advanced; and on their arrival before Paris the city capitulated; the King returned to his palace; and Napoleon gave himself up to the Captain of an English ship of war. On the 15th of June one of the finest armies that he had ever led into the field entered Belgium to take advantage of the Duke of Wellington’s unprepared state;—on the 3rd of July, just fifteen days after, Paris itself capitulated! Such were the vast results of Waterloo.
Napoleon, indeed, had been in some peril294, for the Prussian general showed a particular anxiety to get hold of him, in order that he might hang him! The Duke had no fondness for him,—always designating him in his despatches, merely as “Bonaparte;” but the old Prussian field-marshal, remembering the cruel treatment of his country by the French in 1807, felt, and constantly expressed, sentiments of positive hatred295. The Duke, however, with that loftiness of aim and of feeling which had forbidden his officers to fire upon Napoleon during the action, firmly resisted Blucher’s desires on this point. General Muffling296, the Prussian commissioner297, tells us, that the Duke said to him, “I wish my friend and colleague to see this matter in the light I do: such an act[414] would give our names to history stained with a crime; and posterity298 would say of us, “They were not worthy to be his conquerors299; the more so, as such a deed would be useless, and can have no object.”
In the same tone the Duke wrote to Sir Charles Stuart, telling him, “I said, that as a private friend, I advised him to have nothing to do with so foul300 a transaction; that he and I had acted too distinguished parts in these transactions to become executioners; and that I was determined that if the Sovereign put him to death, they should appoint an executioner, which should not be me.”
In a similar spirit, the Duke succeeded in preventing the Prussians from executing other plans of vengeance301, such us the blowing up the bridge of Jena, pulling down the column of Austerlitz, and the like. In fact, had the old marshal been alone in these transactions, he would gladly have indulged his troops with the plunder302 of Paris.
Indeed, such an utter overthrow as France had received, and that in the course of a few days, was hardly to be paralleled in history. Sufficient stress has seldom been laid upon that wonderful working of the Divine Providence303 by which this great contest, expected by all men to be so long, so desperate, and so sanguinary, was suddenly brought to a close on the fourth day after its commencement. All the great powers of Europe had agreed upon a united effort. They had pledged their faith to one another to place 600,000 men on the soil of France in July, 1815.
All at once, in the middle of June, while the bulk of these armies were moving up from Poland, Bohemia, Hungary, and other distant lands, they hear that the war is begun. And in four days after, they hear that it is finished! Such is not the ordinary course of human history.
All, however, is easily accounted for. Napoleon saw in England the most resolute, consistent, and indomitable of his foes304, and in England’s Great General, the only Captain whom he could hold in no light esteem138. He said, and not unwisely, “If the Anglo-Belgian army had been destroyed at Waterloo, what service could the Allies derive305 from the number of armies which were preparing to cross the Rhine, the Alps, and the Pyrenees?”[43]
And acting306 upon this sound view of the case, and knowing that one or two more weeks would elapse before Wellington could have his veteran battalions around him, he resolved to throw himself like an avalanche308 upon the Duke’s army in its unreadiness; in the hope that a campaign[415] beginning with a defeat of this his chief opponent would alarm England, terrify the other powers, and so make peace, with his continued retention309 of the throne of France, attainable310.
This plan was a sagacious as well as a bold one. It grappled at once with the grand difficulty of the case. But the difficulty, when grappled with, overmastered him. Still, the peculiar311 characteristics of this momentous struggle deserves to be carefully remarked. A judicious312 writer has well observed, that:—
“Waterloo seemed to bear the features of a grand, immediate193 interposition of Providence. Had human judgments313 been consulted, they would have drawn a different plan. The Prussians would have joined the English and have swept the enemy before them; or, the British would have been in force enough to have beaten the French long before the set of sun, &c., &c. But if the French had suffered a common defeat, with consummate314 generals at their head they would have rallied; or, retiring in force, would have called in all available aids, and have renewed the struggle. So the conflict held on till the last moment, when they could neither escape nor conquer. If they had retreated an hour before nightfall they might have been saved; if they could have fought an hour after it, darkness would have covered them. But the crash came on the very edge of darkness. The Prussians came up unfatigued by battle and fresh for pursuit. The night was to be a night of slaughter. ‘Thou, moon, in the valley of Ajalon.’”
Such was one of the grand events of modern history,—the victory which gave all Europe peace for forty years. Ascribing, as we most unreservedly do, the whole ordering of this momentous struggle to an overruling Providence, it still seems a duty to add a few words on the respective merits, or demerits, connected with this tremendous contest, of the two great commanders, who for the first and last time met at Waterloo. Let us first glance at the great deeds achieved, and the great mistakes committed, by Napoleon in the course of these three eventful days.
He carried his magnificent army over the frontier, and threw it upon the allied armies in a manner exhibiting the most consummate skill. Twenty years spent in the practice of war had given him an expertness in the handling of large bodies of troops which few generals have ever possessed. He showed also on the 16th that he was a better general than Blucher, and that his army was a better army than that of the Prussians. But here our commendation must close; for a variety of[416] faults and errors have been pointed out by military critics, of which we shall only mention a few of the chief. Napoleon was guilty of two great miscalculations, and of three important practical mistakes. These were:—
1. He rashly and erroneously assumed that his appearance in Belgium at the head of a fine army would force his opponents, Wellington and Blucher, out of mere awe316 and terror, to fall back, to evacuate234 the country, and so to give him a triumph at the opening of the campaign. In his ixth Book he seriously argues that they ought to have done so: but this was a strange miscalculation. When had either Wellington or Blucher showed any alacrity317 in running away? And what right had he to assume that a force amounting, when united, to nearly 200,000 men, would act as if terror-stricken, on the mere appearance of a French army of only 150,000? Yet he constantly tells us that they ought to have retreated, and that his calculations always rested on the presumption318 that they certainly would retreat.
2. In like manner was he disappointed when he sent Grouchy with 35,000 or 40,000 men, to occupy and keep employed the whole Prussian army. Again did he absurdly overlook the real character of Blucher, who was not one to be easily duped. Napoleon might speculate, if he pleased, on the chance of keeping Blucher at Wavre while he was overpowering and crushing Wellington at Waterloo; but Blucher was equally at liberty to despise all such devices, and to leave Napoleon’s lieutenant319 in order to seek for Napoleon himself. This was what actually took place, and hence we see that again Napoleon is exposed to the imputation320 of having fatally miscalculated.
3. But as in his plans there were these two errors, so in actual execution we meet with three egregious321 faults. Having found Wellington with his weak army apart from Blucher, why did he allow several hours to elapse before he seized the opportunity for which he had been hoping? He speaks of the softened322 state of the ground after several hours’ rain. But, as we have seen, when Grouchy advances the same excuse for inaction at Wavre, he styles it “ridiculous!” and who can say that the movements which he actually made at eleven o’clock, could not have been made at ten, or even at nine o’clock? Meanwhile, although Napoleon was waiting, the Prussians were marching. They found the task difficult, while he deemed it impossible. In earlier days he would have replied that “there was no such word in his vocabulary.”
4. Again, to what strange hallucination was it owing, that, all through the day, attacks which might have been made simultaneously were only[417] discharged in succession? Thus, at three or four o’clock, he sorely tried the nerve and pluck of the English infantry by pouring in upon them “twelve thousand select horse.” It took them three hours to kill or drive away these formidable intruders. And then, when the French cavalry had been destroyed, Napoleon next attacked the English line with six or eight thousand of his Imperial Guard. But what prevented his moving this formidable column up the heights of Mont St. Jean, while the cuirassiers were already in possession of the plateau? They had seized or silenced the English artillery; they had compelled the infantry to throw themselves into squares. If a mass of the finest infantry in France had then been thrown upon the British centre, how fearful would have been the trial? But Napoleon still delayed. He sent on his cavalry, unsupported by any infantry; and then, when the cavalry had been “massacred,” he sent on a column of infantry, unsupported by any cavalry. Will the greatest admirer of his genius hesitate to admit that his practical generalship, his excellence as a leader in battle, was not conspicuous323 at Waterloo? Yet, wherefore was he less vigorous, less audacious at Waterloo, than at Austerlitz or Jena? He was still in the very prime of life. Must we suppose that the toils324 and troubles and disappointments of 1812–1814 had prematurely325 worn out his mind; and that he was already, at only forty-six years of age, mentally decrepit326?
5. The most singular exhibition of defect in generalship, however, and of blindness to that defect, is seen in this,—that he could not lose a battle without utterly losing his army also!
The general who can bear a defeat well, and can carry off his army with only a moderate loss, is entitled to take a high rank amongst commanders. He who cannot do this is only a fair-weather general.
The Prussian commander was attacked on the 16th before his army was all assembled. He placed his men badly,—so badly that Wellington predicted their certain defeat. Yet, when that defeat fell upon him, he rallied his army at a distance of a quarter of a league, and was ready and eager to fight another battle on the second day after. It was this unconquerability which made Blucher one of the most formidable antagonists327 of his time.
But let us turn to Napoleon. He invites us to do this, by the pertinacity328 with which he assails329 Wellington on this very point. Again and again he brings the charge vehemently330 against him, that at Waterloo he[418] had made no provision for a retreat. Thus, in Book ix, p. 124, he says:—
“He had in his rear the defiles of the forest of Soignes, so that, if beaten, retreat was impossible.”
And again, at p. 158—
“The enemy must have seen with affright how many difficulties the field of battle he had chosen was about to throw in the way of his retreat.”
And again, at p. 207—
“The position of Mont St. Jean was ill-chosen. The first requisite331 of a field of battle, is, to have no defiles in its rear. The injudicious choice of his field of battle, rendered all retreat impossible.”
Thus Napoleon challenges our criticism on this very point. All military authorities are agreed that he was wrong in his censure332 on Wellington. It is conceded even by Frenchmen like Lamartine, that the forest of Soignes, instead of being a source of peril, was an element of safety. But he who assails his rival on this especial point, of a provision for retreat, must expect to be asked, himself, “How his own retreat was conducted?”
There is no parallel to its disastrous character. An army of nearly 90,000 fine soldiers, not 40,000 of which could have been killed or wounded, was nothing the next day but a vast horde of fugitives. We notice, with contemptuous pity, how the Spanish generals, in 1809, managed to incur333 such a disgraceful defeat at Ocana, that out of 50,000 men, not 1,000 kept the field a week after. But here was one of the finest armies that ever France sent forth, commanded too, by the conqueror, of Europe; and even the very day after the battle, not a single thousand men were to be found in the field! All were utterly scattered and broken up. And yet their general has the assurance, in criticising the general who has beaten him, to censure him, especially, because “he had taken no precautions to secure his retreat!”
But now of his great rival and conqueror:—The Duke of Wellington had not the same opportunity for displaying his skill and talent in 1815, which he had enjoyed in 1813. His proposed campaign was to open on the 1st of July, and it had been the favourite object of Napoleon to take the initiative, to open the campaign before the British troops from America had arrived, and thus to lead the campaign himself without waiting for the Duke to open it. Hence, during these three days, Napoleon was always advancing, attacking, while Wellington, with his[419] weak army was making the best defence he could. And, accordingly, at Waterloo, the Duke knowing the disparity of his force, could only hope to “keep his ground” till the Prussians should arrive. He was in the position of a small man attacked by a giant. He could only parry his blows and allow the assailant to exhaust his strength, in the hope that, at last, by a well-aimed thrust he might lay his enemy prostrate. For nine long hours, therefore, the Duke’s whole business was to meet and repel192 the powerful attacks of Napoleon; and he had to do this with, according to Napoleon’s own admission, “less than 40,000 good troops.” In fact, his infantry, British and of the German Legion, were only 18,485, his British and German Legion cavalry 7,834, while Napoleon had very nearly 70,000 excellent infantry, and more than 18,000 splendid cavalry. Yet for these nine hours did the Duke meet and repel all his assaults. This sort of soldiership is less showy than daring man?uvres, but it is equally valuable; and in the present instance, when the materials the Duke had to work with are considered, the merit of it is not at all inferior. One of the best generals commanding under the Duke, when acknowledging the thanks of the House of Commons, said, “An army hastily drawn together, composed of the troops of various nations, and amongst which were counted several brigades of inexperienced militia, was the force which the Duke had to oppose to one of the most formidable and best-appointed armies that France ever produced. No other man living could have rendered the service which he performed, with an army so composed.”
The chief point, however, in the character of a great general is the possession of that “eagle eye” which enables him, amid all the din8 and turmoil334 of a horrible contest, to perceive exactly the right moment for vigorous action, and the right place at which to aim an attack. It was this, especially, which gave the Duke his first signal victory over the French at Salamanca; and it was this which turned the repulse of the French at Waterloo into a disastrous defeat.
Narrative-writers, collecting, long after, the best available testimony from all quarters, and carefully comparing and sifting335 the whole, are able to arrive at probable conclusions as to the order and date of the leading events. But this sort of calm investigation336 is wholly different from the horrible din, the ceaseless clamour, and the almost impervious337 smoke which obscures everything on the battle-field. We, for instance, comparing the accounts of the French, the Prussians, and the Austrians, are able to arrive at the conclusion, with absolute certainty that General[420] Bulow’s corps first showed itself on the right of the French line about half-past four, and began to take part in the engagement about half-past five. But it is quite certain that the Duke, fully occupied just then with the French cavalry, who were riding round his squares, knew nothing of the actual arrival of the long-expected succour until long after. It was nearly two hours after this, when, by carefully examining every part of the left of his line, the Duke was able to perceive the rising of smoke over Planchenoit. This was not until seven o’clock; but it assured him of this, that some part of the promised Prussian support had arrived, and that more must be coming up. And this was sufficient to give him new hopes of ultimate success, though he could be certain, as yet, of very little more than that some aid was at hand.
It was shortly after this, and about the time of the movement of the Imperial Guard, when news reached him from Marshal Blucher himself that he was then actually joining the extreme left of the British line. It was this support which enabled the British light cavalry to move from the left of the line, and to take a position nearer the centre. And hence, when the English and the French Guards had tried each other’s mettle338, and the latter had retired in disorder, the Duke saw at one comprehensive glance the arrival of that moment for which he had been longing,—the defeat and confusion of Napoleon’s last reserve; the presence of the long-promised Prussian succours, at that last moment of daylight, which just allowed time for one daring movement and no more. And the decision and boldness with which the Duke seized this golden opportunity are among the finest traits in the whole history of great military deeds. A brief hesitation339, if only of a quarter of an hour, would have allowed the French, although beaten, to retire at leisure. A renewal340 of the contest might have followed after the lapse307 of a couple of days, but how different would have been the whole history of such a campaign from that of Waterloo! It was this clear perception of the right moment for an attack, and the fearlessness with which fewer than 30,000 men were led forward to assault at least twice their numbers, commanded by Napoleon, Soult, and Ney,—it was this wonderful union of prudence, decision, and the highest kind of valour, which made the Duke of Wellington the first of all the generals of his day.
And, united with those lofty endowments, there was the patient, enduring, untiring discharge of every duty of a commander. In this, as in every other of his battles, the Duke was constantly wherever his presence was needed. There could not be a pressure felt at any portion[421] of the line,—there could not be an anxious moment when even the bravest might look around him and begin to think of the possibility of an overthrow, but presently the well-known chestnut-horse would be seen, and the whisper would run through the ranks, “Here’s the Duke! stand fast!” This might seem to some to be merely a matter of course; but it is the being always in the right place at the right time; it is the union of the commonest duties with the highest which fills up the outline of a great character, and leaves to posterity not only a brilliant name, but a really bright example.”[44]
WAWZ, BATTLE OF.—Fought, March 31st, 1831, between the Poles and the Russians. After two days of hard labour in fighting, the Poles carried the Russian works, who were obliged to retreat, with the loss of 12,000 men and 2000 prisoners. This triumph of the Poles was shortly after followed by defeat and massacre.
WHITE PLAINS, BATTLE OF.—Between the revolted American Provinces and the British, under Sir William Howe. Fought, November 30th, 1776. This was the most serious of the early battles of that unfortunate war, and terminated in the defeat of the Americans, who suffered considerable loss in killed, wounded, and prisoners.
WIGAN, BATTLE OF.—In the civil war of England, fought between the King’s troops and the Parliamentary forces. The former were defeated, 1643. Another battle, between the same parties, was fought here, 1651.
WITEPSK, BATTLE OF.—Between the French and Russians. The former commanded by Marshal Victor, and the latter by General Wittgenstein. The French were defeated, after a desperate engagement, having lost 3000 men. Fought, November 14th, 1812.
[422]
WORCESTER, BATTLE OF.—In the civil war fought between the Royalist army and the forces of the Parliament, the latter commanded by Cromwell, a large body of Scots having marched into England to reinstate Charles II, Cromwell signally defeated them, and it afforded to him what he called his crowning mercy; more than 2000 of the Royalists were slain, and of 8000 prisoners, nearly all were sold as slaves to the American Colonies. Fought, September 3rd, 1651. The following is an account of the flight of the young King, after the disastrous day of battle:—
“Charles, in his progress towards Bristol, was pursued by a party of the enemy to the new ferry over the Severn. He rode through Shire Newton, and crossed the Severn at Chiswell Pit, on the Gloucestershire side. The boat had scarcely returned, before a body of the republicans, amounting to 60 men, followed him to the Black Rock, and threatening them with instant death if they refused, compelled the ferrymen to take them across. The boatmen were royalists, and left them on a reef called English Stones, which is separated from the Gloucestershire side by a lake, fordable at low water; but the tide, which had just turned, flowed in with great rapidity, and they were all drowned in attempting to cross. Cromwell, when informed of this disaster, abolished the ferry, and it was not renewed until the year 1748. The renewal occasioned a law-suit between the family of St. Pierre and the guardians341 of the Duke of Beaufort. In the course of the suit, documents were produced which tended to confirm this anecdote342.”
WRECKS.—The most remarkable shipwrecks343 of British men of war or transports, or of ships, connected with military events, are the following which have happened within the last 85 years:
A tremendous storm occurred in October, 1780, in the West Indies, and the following vessels of war were all lost.
Thunderer, of 74 guns; Stirling Castle, of 64 guns; Ph?nix, of 44 guns; La Blanche, of 42 guns; Laurel, of 28 guns; Andromeda, of 28 guns; Deal Castle, of 24 guns; Scarborough, of 20 guns; Barbadoes, of 14 guns; Cameleon, of 14 guns; Endeavour, of 14 guns; and the Victor, of 10 guns.
The Royal George—June 28th, 1782,—1000 persons and brave Admiral Kenpenfeldt perished by the sinking, or rather oversetting of this 100[423] gun man-of-war. The guns on one side all rolled over to the other, and with the extra weight immediately overset the ship riding at anchor at Spithead.
Ramilies, of 74 guns, off Newfoundland, September 21st, 1782. 100 souls perished.
Droits de l’Homme—A British ship of the line, and the Amazon, a frigate, lost off Hodierne Bay. Many hundreds perished, January 14th, 1797.
Nassau, of 64 guns, October 25th, 1799. 100 of the crew and marines perished.
Queen, transport on Trefusis Point, January 14th, 1800. 369 souls lost.
Queen Charlotte, of 110 guns, lost March 17th, 1800. This was the flag ship of Lord Keith, commanding in the Mediterranean345 Sea, burnt by accidental fire off the harbor of Leghorn. More than 700 perished. The ship took fire just before day break. It was occasioned by a match kept burning for the purpose of firing salutes346, having communicated itself to some hay, &c., and so rapidly did the fire rage, that nothing could save the noble vessel7. She burned rapidly to the water’s edge, and then blew up.
Invincible, of 74 guns, March 20th, 1801. 400 souls perished.
Apollo, frigate, lost April 2nd, 1804, in a heavy gale347 off Capo Mondego. 61 of her crew and her commander, perished, and with her 40 sail of the outward-bound West India fleet, lost.
Venerable, of 74 guns, Nov. 24th, 1804. Crew saved.
Tartarus, of 74 guns, December 20th, 1804. Crew saved.
?neas, transport, off Newfoundland, lost October 23rd, 1805. 340 perished.
[424]
Athenienne, of 64 guns lost off Sardinia, October 20th, 1806. 347 perished.
Ajax—Lost by fire off the Island of Tenedos, February 14th, 1807. 300 perished.
Boreas, man-of-war, lost upon the Hannois Rock in the Channel, November 28th, 1807.
Anson, frigate, lost near Land’s End, December 29th, 1807. 125 persons drowned.
Magicienne, frigate, August 16th, 1810. She ran aground at the Mauritius, and was abandoned and burnt by her crew.
Satellite, sloop-of-war of 16 guns, December 14th, 1810. Upset and all on board perished.
Minotam, of 74 guns, wrecked349 on the Haak Bank, December 27th, 1810. Of 600 persons on board, about 480 were drowned.
Saldanha, frigate, lost on the Irish coast, December, 1811. 300 souls perished.
St. George, of 98 guns, and the Defence, of 74 guns, stranded352 on the coast of Jutland, and all souls perished, except 16 seamen353, December 24th, 1811.
Seahorse, transport, near Tramore Bay, January 30th, 1816. 365 souls, chiefly soldiers of the 59th Regiment, and most of the crew, lost.
Lord Melville, and Boadicea, two transports lost near Kinsale, Ireland, when several hundred of the 82nd Regiment, and almost all the crew perished, January 31st, 1816.
Kent, shattered by a dreadful storm, February 28th 1825. Afterwards[425] she caught fire; but the passengers and crew were providentially saved by the Cambria. There were on board 301 officers and men of the 31st regiment, 66 women, 45 children, and 139 seamen.
“The Kent, Indiaman, was making her way in the Bay of Biscay on the morning of the 1st of March, 1825, across the heavy swell280 common in that stormy entrance to the Atlantic, when her progress was arrested by a fatal accident. An officer, who was sent into the hold to see whether the rolling of the vessel had disturbed the stowage, perceiving that a cask of spirits had burst from its lashings, gave the lamp he had in his hand to a seaman355 to hold, while he should replace the cask. Unfortunately, in the continued rolling of the vessel, the man let the lamp fall near the spirits, to which it set fire in a moment. The flames spread; attempts were made to smother356 them by wet blankets and hammocks, but all was in vain, and they soon assumed an aspect so tremendous, as to show that it would be impossible to subdue357 them.
At this moment of despair, the man at the mast-head exclaimed that a sail was in sight; guns were fired, and a signal of distress358 hoisted359. The gale, however, was so heavy, that it was for some time doubtful whether the strange vessel perceived the signals, or was likely to turn aside from her course; but this painful suspense360 was soon removed by her approach. The boats of the Kent were now got out and placed, not alongside, on account of the flames and the danger of staving the boats, but a-head and a-stern. In the latter many got out from the cabin-windows, but the chief part were let down from the bowsprit into the boat a-head, and the men sliding down by a rope, while the soldiers’ wives were lowered into the boat slung361 three together.
The fire had burst out about ten o’clock, and about twelve the signal of distress had been perceived by the strange sail, which proved to be the Cambria, outward-bound to Mexico, with mining workmen and machinery362, shipped by the Anglo-Mexican company. It was two o’clock when the Cambria received the first boat-load of passengers, consisting of ladies and children, half clothed, and pale with fright and fatigue315. The whole afternoon was passed in exertions on board the one vessel in sending off the sufferers, and in the other in receiving them. The Cambria had amongst her passengers several stout363 workmen, who took their station at the ship’s side, and were indefatigable364 in hoisting365 the poor sufferers on board; so that, out of 642 persons in the Kent, no less than 547 were safe in the Cambria before midnight. The remainder (95 in number) were lost, chiefly in getting out and in of the boats, the swell of the sea being[426] very great all the time. The captain of the Kent was the last man to leave her. She blew up at a few minutes before two o’clock on Wednesday morning.
It may naturally be asked how the vessel could keep so long together amid so destructive a conflagration? She could not have kept together two hours, had not the officers, to avoid one danger, encountered another by opening the ports and letting in the water, when she shipped such heavy seas as to become water-logged, which of course prevented her burning downwards366.
The Cambria, a vessel of little more than 200 tons, was previously sufficiently367 filled, having goods in her hold, and about 50 persons in passengers and ship’s company. How great then must have been the pressure and confusion caused by the influx368 which carried the total on board to more than 600! The progress of the fire in the Kent had been so rapid, as to prevent the sufferers from saving any clothes, except what was on their persons, and both officers and soldiers were thus ill prepared to encounter the wet and cold of the deck. The cabin and the ’tween decks (the space for the steerage passengers) were thus crowded beyond measure, and most fortunate it was that the wind continued favourable369 for the return of the Cambria to an English port. She reached Falmouth in 48 hours after quitting the wreck272, and landed her unfortunate inmates370 on the 4th of March.”
Lord William Bentinck, lost off Bombay; 58 recruits, 20 officers, and seven passengers perished. This lamentable371 occurrence happened June 17th, 1840.
Abercrombie Robinson, and Waterloo, transports, in Table Bay, Cape11 of Good Hope; of 330 persons on board the last named vessel, 189, principally convicts, were drowned, August 28th, 1842.
H.M.S. Fantome, of 16 guns, lost off Montevideo, June 25th, 1843.
The troop ship Albert from Halifax with the 64th Regiment on board which was miraculously372 saved July 13th, 1843.
H.M. Frigate Wilberforce, lost on the coast of Africa, February 2nd, 1844.
Birkenhead, troopship, from Queenstown to the Cape of Good Hope, with detachments of several regiments on board. She struck on a pointed rock off Simon’s Bay, and 454 of the crew and soldiers were drowned; 184 only were saved by the ship’s boat.
The Trent, and a great number of other ships of all capacity, wrecked off the Crimea during the war. A tremendous tornado373 swept the Black[427] Sea and literally374 dashed many of the brave ships of England and France to pieces.
WURTZCHEN, BATTLE OF.—One of the most bloody and fiercely contested battles of the campaign of 1813. Fought between the allied Russian and Prussian armies, and the French, commanded by Napoleon himself. The carnage was dreadful on each side, but the Allies retreated from the field. Fought, May 21st, 1813.
点击收听单词发音
1 overthrow | |
v.推翻,打倒,颠覆;n.推翻,瓦解,颠覆 | |
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2 overthrown | |
adj. 打翻的,推倒的,倾覆的 动词overthrow的过去分词 | |
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3 slaughter | |
n.屠杀,屠宰;vt.屠杀,宰杀 | |
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4 slain | |
杀死,宰杀,杀戮( slay的过去分词 ); (slay的过去分词) | |
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5 bloodiest | |
adj.血污的( bloody的最高级 );流血的;屠杀的;残忍的 | |
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6 vessels | |
n.血管( vessel的名词复数 );船;容器;(具有特殊品质或接受特殊品质的)人 | |
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7 vessel | |
n.船舶;容器,器皿;管,导管,血管 | |
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8 din | |
n.喧闹声,嘈杂声 | |
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9 fully | |
adv.完全地,全部地,彻底地;充分地 | |
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10 bloody | |
adj.非常的的;流血的;残忍的;adv.很;vt.血染 | |
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11 cape | |
n.海角,岬;披肩,短披风 | |
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12 conflagration | |
n.建筑物或森林大火 | |
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13 ascertain | |
vt.发现,确定,查明,弄清 | |
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14 ascertained | |
v.弄清,确定,查明( ascertain的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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15 luxurious | |
adj.精美而昂贵的;豪华的 | |
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16 cavalry | |
n.骑兵;轻装甲部队 | |
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17 furrowed | |
v.犁田,开沟( furrow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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18 cannon | |
n.大炮,火炮;飞机上的机关炮 | |
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19 relic | |
n.神圣的遗物,遗迹,纪念物 | |
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20 ornaments | |
n.装饰( ornament的名词复数 );点缀;装饰品;首饰v.装饰,点缀,美化( ornament的第三人称单数 ) | |
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21 highland | |
n.(pl.)高地,山地 | |
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22 bonnets | |
n.童帽( bonnet的名词复数 );(烟囱等的)覆盖物;(苏格兰男子的)无边呢帽;(女子戴的)任何一种帽子 | |
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23 plume | |
n.羽毛;v.整理羽毛,骚首弄姿,用羽毛装饰 | |
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24 apparatus | |
n.装置,器械;器具,设备 | |
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25 artillery | |
n.(军)火炮,大炮;炮兵(部队) | |
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26 bugles | |
妙脆角,一种类似薯片但做成尖角或喇叭状的零食; 号角( bugle的名词复数 ); 喇叭; 匍匐筋骨草; (装饰女服用的)柱状玻璃(或塑料)小珠 | |
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27 testimony | |
n.证词;见证,证明 | |
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28 misery | |
n.痛苦,苦恼,苦难;悲惨的境遇,贫苦 | |
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29 melancholy | |
n.忧郁,愁思;adj.令人感伤(沮丧)的,忧郁的 | |
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30 corpses | |
n.死尸,尸体( corpse的名词复数 ) | |
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31 corps | |
n.(通信等兵种的)部队;(同类作的)一组 | |
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32 foe | |
n.敌人,仇敌 | |
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33 scattered | |
adj.分散的,稀疏的;散步的;疏疏落落的 | |
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34 serried | |
adj.拥挤的;密集的 | |
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35 interspersed | |
adj.[医]散开的;点缀的v.intersperse的过去式和过去分词 | |
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36 chivalry | |
n.骑士气概,侠义;(男人)对女人彬彬有礼,献殷勤 | |
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37 highlander | |
n.高地的人,苏格兰高地地区的人 | |
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38 ridge | |
n.山脊;鼻梁;分水岭 | |
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39 gore | |
n.凝血,血污;v.(动物)用角撞伤,用牙刺破;缝以补裆;顶 | |
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40 pointed | |
adj.尖的,直截了当的 | |
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41 annihilated | |
v.(彻底)消灭( annihilate的过去式和过去分词 );使无效;废止;彻底击溃 | |
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42 repulse | |
n.击退,拒绝;vt.逐退,击退,拒绝 | |
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43 battalion | |
n.营;部队;大队(的人) | |
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44 converge | |
vi.会合;聚集,集中;(思想、观点等)趋近 | |
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45 converged | |
v.(线条、运动的物体等)会于一点( converge的过去式 );(趋于)相似或相同;人或车辆汇集;聚集 | |
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46 infantry | |
n.[总称]步兵(部队) | |
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47 slant | |
v.倾斜,倾向性地编写或报道;n.斜面,倾向 | |
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48 slanting | |
倾斜的,歪斜的 | |
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49 dire | |
adj.可怕的,悲惨的,阴惨的,极端的 | |
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50 orchard | |
n.果园,果园里的全部果树,(美俚)棒球场 | |
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51 converging | |
adj.收敛[缩]的,会聚的,趋同的v.(线条、运动的物体等)会于一点( converge的现在分词 );(趋于)相似或相同;人或车辆汇集;聚集 | |
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52 spoke | |
n.(车轮的)辐条;轮辐;破坏某人的计划;阻挠某人的行动 v.讲,谈(speak的过去式);说;演说;从某种观点来说 | |
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53 drawn | |
v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
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54 dispersed | |
adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
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55 battalions | |
n.(陆军的)一营(大约有一千兵士)( battalion的名词复数 );协同作战的部队;军队;(组织在一起工作的)队伍 | |
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56 intrepid | |
adj.无畏的,刚毅的 | |
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57 decided | |
adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的 | |
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58 irresistible | |
adj.非常诱人的,无法拒绝的,无法抗拒的 | |
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59 regiments | |
(军队的)团( regiment的名词复数 ); 大量的人或物 | |
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60 regiment | |
n.团,多数,管理;v.组织,编成团,统制 | |
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61 swerved | |
v.(使)改变方向,改变目的( swerve的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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62 disorder | |
n.紊乱,混乱;骚动,骚乱;疾病,失调 | |
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63 annihilating | |
v.(彻底)消灭( annihilate的现在分词 );使无效;废止;彻底击溃 | |
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64 intrusive | |
adj.打搅的;侵扰的 | |
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65 invaders | |
入侵者,侵略者,侵入物( invader的名词复数 ) | |
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66 conqueror | |
n.征服者,胜利者 | |
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67 retirement | |
n.退休,退职 | |
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68 covenanted | |
v.立约,立誓( covenant的过去分词 ) | |
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69 determined | |
adj.坚定的;有决心的 | |
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70 allied | |
adj.协约国的;同盟国的 | |
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71 momentous | |
adj.重要的,重大的 | |
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72 lengthened | |
(时间或空间)延长,伸长( lengthen的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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73 strife | |
n.争吵,冲突,倾轧,竞争 | |
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74 controversies | |
争论 | |
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75 hurled | |
v.猛投,用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 );大声叫骂 | |
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76 resuscitate | |
v.使复活,使苏醒 | |
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77 hampered | |
妨碍,束缚,限制( hamper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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78 scruples | |
n.良心上的不安( scruple的名词复数 );顾虑,顾忌v.感到于心不安,有顾忌( scruple的第三人称单数 ) | |
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79 scruple | |
n./v.顾忌,迟疑 | |
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80 slander | |
n./v.诽谤,污蔑 | |
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81 assassinate | |
vt.暗杀,行刺,中伤 | |
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82 memoir | |
n.[pl.]回忆录,自传;记事录 | |
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83 massacre | |
n.残杀,大屠杀;v.残杀,集体屠杀 | |
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84 victorious | |
adj.胜利的,得胜的 | |
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85 utterly | |
adv.完全地,绝对地 | |
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86 worthy | |
adj.(of)值得的,配得上的;有价值的 | |
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87 credence | |
n.信用,祭器台,供桌,凭证 | |
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88 testimonies | |
(法庭上证人的)证词( testimony的名词复数 ); 证明,证据 | |
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89 verity | |
n.真实性 | |
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90 deliberately | |
adv.审慎地;蓄意地;故意地 | |
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91 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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92 narrative | |
n.叙述,故事;adj.叙事的,故事体的 | |
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93 levies | |
(部队)征兵( levy的名词复数 ); 募捐; 被征募的军队 | |
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94 militia | |
n.民兵,民兵组织 | |
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95 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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96 auxiliaries | |
n.助动词 ( auxiliary的名词复数 );辅助工,辅助人员 | |
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97 frankly | |
adv.坦白地,直率地;坦率地说 | |
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98 advantageous | |
adj.有利的;有帮助的 | |
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99 bestowed | |
赠给,授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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100 deluding | |
v.欺骗,哄骗( delude的现在分词 ) | |
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101 garrison | |
n.卫戍部队;驻地,卫戍区;vt.派(兵)驻防 | |
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102 deductions | |
扣除( deduction的名词复数 ); 结论; 扣除的量; 推演 | |
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103 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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104 gallant | |
adj.英勇的,豪侠的;(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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105 gallantly | |
adv. 漂亮地,勇敢地,献殷勤地 | |
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106 nominally | |
在名义上,表面地; 应名儿 | |
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107 nominal | |
adj.名义上的;(金额、租金)微不足道的 | |
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108 credible | |
adj.可信任的,可靠的 | |
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109 erred | |
犯错误,做错事( err的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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110 deducting | |
v.扣除,减去( deduct的现在分词 ) | |
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111 grouchy | |
adj.好抱怨的;愠怒的 | |
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112 precisely | |
adv.恰好,正好,精确地,细致地 | |
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113 upwards | |
adv.向上,在更高处...以上 | |
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114 motive | |
n.动机,目的;adv.发动的,运动的 | |
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115 augments | |
增加,提高,扩大( augment的名词复数 ) | |
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116 concocted | |
v.将(尤指通常不相配合的)成分混合成某物( concoct的过去式和过去分词 );调制;编造;捏造 | |
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117 purporting | |
v.声称是…,(装得)像是…的样子( purport的现在分词 ) | |
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118 imposing | |
adj.使人难忘的,壮丽的,堂皇的,雄伟的 | |
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119 prudence | |
n.谨慎,精明,节俭 | |
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120 scrutiny | |
n.详细检查,仔细观察 | |
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121 purely | |
adv.纯粹地,完全地 | |
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122 portfolio | |
n.公事包;文件夹;大臣及部长职位 | |
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123 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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124 accurately | |
adv.准确地,精确地 | |
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125 concur | |
v.同意,意见一致,互助,同时发生 | |
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126 remarkable | |
adj.显著的,异常的,非凡的,值得注意的 | |
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127 exultation | |
n.狂喜,得意 | |
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128 anticipation | |
n.预期,预料,期望 | |
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129 anticipations | |
预期( anticipation的名词复数 ); 预测; (信托财产收益的)预支; 预期的事物 | |
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130 temerity | |
n.鲁莽,冒失 | |
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131 odds | |
n.让步,机率,可能性,比率;胜败优劣之别 | |
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132 simplicity | |
n.简单,简易;朴素;直率,单纯 | |
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133 strenuously | |
adv.奋发地,费力地 | |
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134 thoroughly | |
adv.完全地,彻底地,十足地 | |
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135 excellence | |
n.优秀,杰出,(pl.)优点,美德 | |
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136 infamous | |
adj.声名狼藉的,臭名昭著的,邪恶的 | |
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137 extremity | |
n.末端,尽头;尽力;终极;极度 | |
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138 esteem | |
n.尊敬,尊重;vt.尊重,敬重;把…看作 | |
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139 esteemed | |
adj.受人尊敬的v.尊敬( esteem的过去式和过去分词 );敬重;认为;以为 | |
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140 heterogeneous | |
adj.庞杂的;异类的 | |
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141 contingent | |
adj.视条件而定的;n.一组,代表团,分遣队 | |
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142 memorable | |
adj.值得回忆的,难忘的,特别的,显著的 | |
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143 torrents | |
n.倾注;奔流( torrent的名词复数 );急流;爆发;连续不断 | |
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144 triumphantly | |
ad.得意洋洋地;得胜地;成功地 | |
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145 possessed | |
adj.疯狂的;拥有的,占有的 | |
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146 descended | |
a.为...后裔的,出身于...的 | |
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147 ascended | |
v.上升,攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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148 ascend | |
vi.渐渐上升,升高;vt.攀登,登上 | |
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149 orchards | |
(通常指围起来的)果园( orchard的名词复数 ) | |
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150 enjoined | |
v.命令( enjoin的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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151 resolute | |
adj.坚决的,果敢的 | |
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152 depreciate | |
v.降价,贬值,折旧 | |
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153 judgment | |
n.审判;判断力,识别力,看法,意见 | |
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154 defile | |
v.弄污,弄脏;n.(山间)小道 | |
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155 defiles | |
v.玷污( defile的第三人称单数 );污染;弄脏;纵列行进 | |
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156 fortified | |
adj. 加强的 | |
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157 obstinate | |
adj.顽固的,倔强的,不易屈服的,较难治愈的 | |
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158 obstinately | |
ad.固执地,顽固地 | |
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159 prudent | |
adj.谨慎的,有远见的,精打细算的 | |
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160 warfare | |
n.战争(状态);斗争;冲突 | |
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161 undoubtedly | |
adv.确实地,无疑地 | |
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162 fixed | |
adj.固定的,不变的,准备好的;(计算机)固定的 | |
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163 thicket | |
n.灌木丛,树林 | |
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164 gallop | |
v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔;飞速发展 | |
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165 galloped | |
(使马)飞奔,奔驰( gallop的过去式和过去分词 ); 快速做[说]某事 | |
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166 joyful | |
adj.欢乐的,令人欢欣的 | |
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167 justified | |
a.正当的,有理的 | |
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168 inertness | |
n.不活泼,没有生气;惰性;惯量 | |
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169 intervals | |
n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 );间隔时间;[数学]区间;(戏剧、电影或音乐会的)幕间休息 | |
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170 garrisoned | |
卫戍部队守备( garrison的过去式和过去分词 ); 派部队驻防 | |
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171 largo | |
n.广板乐章;adj.缓慢的,宽广的;adv.缓慢地,宽广地 | |
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172 strewed | |
v.撒在…上( strew的过去式和过去分词 );散落于;点缀;撒满 | |
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173 attained | |
(通常经过努力)实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 ); 达到; 获得; 达到(某年龄、水平、状况) | |
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174 chateau | |
n.城堡,别墅 | |
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175 defenders | |
n.防御者( defender的名词复数 );守卫者;保护者;辩护者 | |
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176 invincible | |
adj.不可征服的,难以制服的 | |
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177 vehement | |
adj.感情强烈的;热烈的;(人)有强烈感情的 | |
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178 intelligible | |
adj.可理解的,明白易懂的,清楚的 | |
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179 elevation | |
n.高度;海拔;高地;上升;提高 | |
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180 descending | |
n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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181 ascending | |
adj.上升的,向上的 | |
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182 groans | |
n.呻吟,叹息( groan的名词复数 );呻吟般的声音v.呻吟( groan的第三人称单数 );发牢骚;抱怨;受苦 | |
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183 hooting | |
(使)作汽笛声响,作汽车喇叭声( hoot的现在分词 ); 倒好儿; 倒彩 | |
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184 deploy | |
v.(军)散开成战斗队形,布置,展开 | |
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185 saluting | |
v.欢迎,致敬( salute的现在分词 );赞扬,赞颂 | |
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186 fugitives | |
n.亡命者,逃命者( fugitive的名词复数 ) | |
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187 retrieve | |
vt.重新得到,收回;挽回,补救;检索 | |
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188 confessions | |
n.承认( confession的名词复数 );自首;声明;(向神父的)忏悔 | |
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189 thither | |
adv.向那里;adj.在那边的,对岸的 | |
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190 considerably | |
adv.极大地;相当大地;在很大程度上 | |
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191 repelled | |
v.击退( repel的过去式和过去分词 );使厌恶;排斥;推开 | |
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192 repel | |
v.击退,抵制,拒绝,排斥 | |
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193 immediate | |
adj.立即的;直接的,最接近的;紧靠的 | |
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194 premature | |
adj.比预期时间早的;不成熟的,仓促的 | |
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195 defiled | |
v.玷污( defile的过去式和过去分词 );污染;弄脏;纵列行进 | |
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196 armour | |
(=armor)n.盔甲;装甲部队 | |
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197 positively | |
adv.明确地,断然,坚决地;实在,确实 | |
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198 insignificant | |
adj.无关紧要的,可忽略的,无意义的 | |
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199 onset | |
n.进攻,袭击,开始,突然开始 | |
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200 assail | |
v.猛烈攻击,抨击,痛斥 | |
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201 repulsed | |
v.击退( repulse的过去式和过去分词 );驳斥;拒绝 | |
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202 saluted | |
v.欢迎,致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 );赞扬,赞颂 | |
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203 lasting | |
adj.永久的,永恒的;vbl.持续,维持 | |
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204 penetrated | |
adj. 击穿的,鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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205 snug | |
adj.温暖舒适的,合身的,安全的;v.使整洁干净,舒适地依靠,紧贴;n.(英)酒吧里的私房 | |
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206 reproof | |
n.斥责,责备 | |
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207 aggregate | |
adj.总计的,集合的;n.总数;v.合计;集合 | |
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208 incessant | |
adj.不停的,连续的 | |
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209 bent | |
n.爱好,癖好;adj.弯的;决心的,一心的 | |
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210 majesty | |
n.雄伟,壮丽,庄严,威严;最高权威,王权 | |
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211 postpone | |
v.延期,推迟 | |
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212 exertion | |
n.尽力,努力 | |
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213 retarded | |
a.智力迟钝的,智力发育迟缓的 | |
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214 chamber | |
n.房间,寝室;会议厅;议院;会所 | |
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215 injustice | |
n.非正义,不公正,不公平,侵犯(别人的)权利 | |
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216 absurdity | |
n.荒谬,愚蠢;谬论 | |
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217 obedience | |
n.服从,顺从 | |
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218 aspersion | |
n.诽谤,中伤 | |
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219 lessen | |
vt.减少,减轻;缩小 | |
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220 exculpation | |
n.使无罪,辩解 | |
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221 Augmented | |
adj.增音的 动词augment的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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222 wilfully | |
adv.任性固执地;蓄意地 | |
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223 joint | |
adj.联合的,共同的;n.关节,接合处;v.连接,贴合 | |
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224 opportunely | |
adv.恰好地,适时地 | |
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225 countenance | |
n.脸色,面容;面部表情;vt.支持,赞同 | |
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226 concealed | |
a.隐藏的,隐蔽的 | |
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227 reassuring | |
a.使人消除恐惧和疑虑的,使人放心的 | |
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228 specially | |
adv.特定地;特殊地;明确地 | |
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229 remains | |
n.剩余物,残留物;遗体,遗迹 | |
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230 ammunition | |
n.军火,弹药 | |
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231 expended | |
v.花费( expend的过去式和过去分词 );使用(钱等)做某事;用光;耗尽 | |
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232 solitary | |
adj.孤独的,独立的,荒凉的;n.隐士 | |
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233 wrested | |
(用力)拧( wrest的过去式和过去分词 ); 费力取得; (从…)攫取; ( 从… ) 强行取去… | |
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234 evacuate | |
v.遣送;搬空;抽出;排泄;大(小)便 | |
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235 evacuated | |
撤退者的 | |
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236 frightful | |
adj.可怕的;讨厌的 | |
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237 beheld | |
v.看,注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 );瞧;看呀;(叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现)哎哟 | |
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238 dignified | |
a.可敬的,高贵的 | |
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239 discomfited | |
v.使为难( discomfit的过去式和过去分词);使狼狈;使挫折;挫败 | |
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240 contradictory | |
adj.反驳的,反对的,抗辩的;n.正反对,矛盾对立 | |
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241 simultaneously | |
adv.同时发生地,同时进行地 | |
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242 retired | |
adj.隐退的,退休的,退役的 | |
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243 exertions | |
n.努力( exertion的名词复数 );费力;(能力、权力等的)运用;行使 | |
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244 belle | |
n.靓女 | |
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245 plunged | |
v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 );暴跌;骤降;突降 | |
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246 astonishment | |
n.惊奇,惊异 | |
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247 diverged | |
分开( diverge的过去式和过去分词 ); 偏离; 分歧; 分道扬镳 | |
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248 assailing | |
v.攻击( assail的现在分词 );困扰;质问;毅然应对 | |
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249 devoted | |
adj.忠诚的,忠实的,热心的,献身于...的 | |
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250 sketches | |
n.草图( sketch的名词复数 );素描;速写;梗概 | |
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251 narratives | |
记叙文( narrative的名词复数 ); 故事; 叙述; 叙述部分 | |
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252 recoiled | |
v.畏缩( recoil的过去式和过去分词 );退缩;报应;返回 | |
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253 depicting | |
描绘,描画( depict的现在分词 ); 描述 | |
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254 precipitately | |
adv.猛进地 | |
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255 distinguished | |
adj.卓越的,杰出的,著名的 | |
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256 attentively | |
adv.聚精会神地;周到地;谛;凝神 | |
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257 chaotic | |
adj.混沌的,一片混乱的,一团糟的 | |
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258 joyfully | |
adv. 喜悦地, 高兴地 | |
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259 joyously | |
ad.快乐地, 高兴地 | |
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260 hearty | |
adj.热情友好的;衷心的;尽情的,纵情的 | |
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261 recollect | |
v.回忆,想起,记起,忆起,记得 | |
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262 contagious | |
adj.传染性的,有感染力的 | |
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263 previously | |
adv.以前,先前(地) | |
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264 assailed | |
v.攻击( assail的过去式和过去分词 );困扰;质问;毅然应对 | |
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265 contemplated | |
adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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266 disastrous | |
adj.灾难性的,造成灾害的;极坏的,很糟的 | |
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267 stammered | |
v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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268 exultingly | |
兴高采烈地,得意地 | |
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269 mutual | |
adj.相互的,彼此的;共同的,共有的 | |
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270 physically | |
adj.物质上,体格上,身体上,按自然规律 | |
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271 humiliated | |
感到羞愧的 | |
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272 wreck | |
n.失事,遇难;沉船;vt.(船等)失事,遇难 | |
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273 wrecks | |
n.沉船( wreck的名词复数 );(事故中)遭严重毁坏的汽车(或飞机等);(身体或精神上)受到严重损伤的人;状况非常糟糕的车辆(或建筑物等)v.毁坏[毁灭]某物( wreck的第三人称单数 );使(船舶)失事,使遇难,使下沉 | |
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274 horde | |
n.群众,一大群 | |
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275 shipwreck | |
n.船舶失事,海难 | |
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276 deceptive | |
adj.骗人的,造成假象的,靠不住的 | |
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277 vividly | |
adv.清楚地,鲜明地,生动地 | |
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278 refreshment | |
n.恢复,精神爽快,提神之事物;(复数)refreshments:点心,茶点 | |
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279 swelled | |
增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 ); 肿胀; (使)凸出; 充满(激情) | |
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280 swell | |
vi.膨胀,肿胀;增长,增强 | |
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281 countenances | |
n.面容( countenance的名词复数 );表情;镇静;道义支持 | |
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282 shrouded | |
v.隐瞒( shroud的过去式和过去分词 );保密 | |
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283 survivors | |
幸存者,残存者,生还者( survivor的名词复数 ) | |
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284 muse | |
n.缪斯(希腊神话中的女神),创作灵感 | |
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285 throng | |
n.人群,群众;v.拥挤,群集 | |
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286 gush | |
v.喷,涌;滔滔不绝(说话);n.喷,涌流;迸发 | |
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287 pinnacle | |
n.尖塔,尖顶,山峰;(喻)顶峰 | |
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288 prostrate | |
v.拜倒,平卧,衰竭;adj.拜倒的,平卧的,衰竭的 | |
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289 exhausted | |
adj.极其疲惫的,精疲力尽的 | |
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290 paramount | |
a.最重要的,最高权力的 | |
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291 awakened | |
v.(使)醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 );(使)觉醒;弄醒;(使)意识到 | |
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292 chambers | |
n.房间( chamber的名词复数 );(议会的)议院;卧室;会议厅 | |
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293 abdication | |
n.辞职;退位 | |
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294 peril | |
n.(严重的)危险;危险的事物 | |
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295 hatred | |
n.憎恶,憎恨,仇恨 | |
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296 muffling | |
v.压抑,捂住( muffle的现在分词 );用厚厚的衣帽包着(自己) | |
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297 commissioner | |
n.(政府厅、局、处等部门)专员,长官,委员 | |
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298 posterity | |
n.后裔,子孙,后代 | |
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299 conquerors | |
征服者,占领者( conqueror的名词复数 ) | |
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300 foul | |
adj.污秽的;邪恶的;v.弄脏;妨害;犯规;n.犯规 | |
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301 vengeance | |
n.报复,报仇,复仇 | |
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302 plunder | |
vt.劫掠财物,掠夺;n.劫掠物,赃物;劫掠 | |
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303 providence | |
n.深谋远虑,天道,天意;远见;节约;上帝 | |
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304 foes | |
敌人,仇敌( foe的名词复数 ) | |
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305 derive | |
v.取得;导出;引申;来自;源自;出自 | |
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306 acting | |
n.演戏,行为,假装;adj.代理的,临时的,演出用的 | |
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307 lapse | |
n.过失,流逝,失效,抛弃信仰,间隔;vi.堕落,停止,失效,流逝;vt.使失效 | |
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308 avalanche | |
n.雪崩,大量涌来 | |
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309 retention | |
n.保留,保持,保持力,记忆力 | |
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310 attainable | |
a.可达到的,可获得的 | |
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311 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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312 judicious | |
adj.明智的,明断的,能作出明智决定的 | |
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313 judgments | |
判断( judgment的名词复数 ); 鉴定; 评价; 审判 | |
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314 consummate | |
adj.完美的;v.成婚;使完美 [反]baffle | |
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315 fatigue | |
n.疲劳,劳累 | |
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316 awe | |
n.敬畏,惊惧;vt.使敬畏,使惊惧 | |
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317 alacrity | |
n.敏捷,轻快,乐意 | |
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318 presumption | |
n.推测,可能性,冒昧,放肆,[法律]推定 | |
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319 lieutenant | |
n.陆军中尉,海军上尉;代理官员,副职官员 | |
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320 imputation | |
n.归罪,责难 | |
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321 egregious | |
adj.非常的,过分的 | |
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322 softened | |
(使)变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 ); 缓解打击; 缓和; 安慰 | |
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323 conspicuous | |
adj.明眼的,惹人注目的;炫耀的,摆阔气的 | |
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324 toils | |
网 | |
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325 prematurely | |
adv.过早地,贸然地 | |
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326 decrepit | |
adj.衰老的,破旧的 | |
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327 antagonists | |
对立[对抗] 者,对手,敌手( antagonist的名词复数 ); 对抗肌; 对抗药 | |
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328 pertinacity | |
n.执拗,顽固 | |
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329 assails | |
v.攻击( assail的第三人称单数 );困扰;质问;毅然应对 | |
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330 vehemently | |
adv. 热烈地 | |
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331 requisite | |
adj.需要的,必不可少的;n.必需品 | |
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332 censure | |
v./n.责备;非难;责难 | |
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333 incur | |
vt.招致,蒙受,遭遇 | |
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334 turmoil | |
n.骚乱,混乱,动乱 | |
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335 sifting | |
n.筛,过滤v.筛( sift的现在分词 );筛滤;细查;详审 | |
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336 investigation | |
n.调查,调查研究 | |
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337 impervious | |
adj.不能渗透的,不能穿过的,不易伤害的 | |
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338 mettle | |
n.勇气,精神 | |
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339 hesitation | |
n.犹豫,踌躇 | |
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340 renewal | |
adj.(契约)延期,续订,更新,复活,重来 | |
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341 guardians | |
监护人( guardian的名词复数 ); 保护者,维护者 | |
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342 anecdote | |
n.轶事,趣闻,短故事 | |
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343 shipwrecks | |
海难,船只失事( shipwreck的名词复数 ); 沉船 | |
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344 frigate | |
n.护航舰,大型驱逐舰 | |
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345 Mediterranean | |
adj.地中海的;地中海沿岸的 | |
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346 salutes | |
n.致敬,欢迎,敬礼( salute的名词复数 )v.欢迎,致敬( salute的第三人称单数 );赞扬,赞颂 | |
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347 gale | |
n.大风,强风,一阵闹声(尤指笑声等) | |
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348 aurora | |
n.极光 | |
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349 wrecked | |
adj.失事的,遇难的 | |
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350 amethyst | |
n.紫水晶 | |
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351 foundered | |
v.创始人( founder的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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352 stranded | |
a.搁浅的,进退两难的 | |
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353 seamen | |
n.海员 | |
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354 harpooner | |
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355 seaman | |
n.海员,水手,水兵 | |
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356 smother | |
vt./vi.使窒息;抑制;闷死;n.浓烟;窒息 | |
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357 subdue | |
vt.制服,使顺从,征服;抑制,克制 | |
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358 distress | |
n.苦恼,痛苦,不舒适;不幸;vt.使悲痛 | |
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359 hoisted | |
把…吊起,升起( hoist的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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360 suspense | |
n.(对可能发生的事)紧张感,担心,挂虑 | |
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361 slung | |
抛( sling的过去式和过去分词 ); 吊挂; 遣送; 押往 | |
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362 machinery | |
n.(总称)机械,机器;机构 | |
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364 indefatigable | |
adj.不知疲倦的,不屈不挠的 | |
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365 hoisting | |
起重,提升 | |
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366 downwards | |
adj./adv.向下的(地),下行的(地) | |
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367 sufficiently | |
adv.足够地,充分地 | |
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368 influx | |
n.流入,注入 | |
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369 favourable | |
adj.赞成的,称赞的,有利的,良好的,顺利的 | |
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370 inmates | |
n.囚犯( inmate的名词复数 ) | |
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371 lamentable | |
adj.令人惋惜的,悔恨的 | |
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372 miraculously | |
ad.奇迹般地 | |
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373 tornado | |
n.飓风,龙卷风 | |
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374 literally | |
adv.照字面意义,逐字地;确实 | |
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