Twilight on the Battlefield

The evening of June 18, 1815, witnessed an extraordinary scene on the Belgian countryside. At 7 PM, though shadows lengthened, daylight persisted under clearing skies. The final showers of the day retreated eastward toward Wavre, where Marshal Grouchy engaged the Prussian rearguard in a separate confrontation that would prove decisive to the main event unfolding at Mont-Saint-Jean. Above the ridge of Saint John, ominous clouds gathered while the setting sun broke through crevices to illuminate sinister smoke clouds hovering over trampled fields of rye, barley, and wheat. A British officer later remarked that the crops had been flattened to resemble Indian rush matting, testimony to the day’s brutal combat.

The valley and ridge, where Wellington’s army had held firm for eight grueling hours, lay littered with thousands of corpses. Though the battle remained undecided, Napoleon Bonaparte recognized his diminishing options. The emperor, ever the gambler, prepared to cast his final dice. The metaphorical roll yielded five and three – numbers that would determine the fate of Europe.

The Imperial Guard: Napoleon’s Finest

The five and three represented battalions – five from the Middle Guard and three from the Old Guard – totaling eight battalions that would advance up the blood-soaked slope toward the Allied lines. This contingent constituted Napoleon’s last strategic reserve. At day’s beginning, the Emperor had commanded twenty-one battalions of the Imperial Guard, but the battle’s demands had whittled down this elite force. Ten battalions had been committed to holding off the Prussian advance at Plancenoit, while one battalion guarded the emperor’s baggage train at Le Caillou, too distant to participate in the final assault. Of the remaining twelve battalions, Napoleon retained four as his personal reserve.

The eight battalions advancing toward the ridge numbered approximately 5,000 men, possibly fewer. This paled in comparison to earlier French assaults – the first infantry attack on Wellington’s position involved 18,000 men, while the second offensive under Bachelu and Foy comprised about 8,000 troops. Count d’Erlon’s corps had nearly succeeded in their earlier assault, only to be shattered by British heavy cavalry intervention. Bachelu and Foy’s divisions had been repulsed with relative ease, driven down the slope by concentrated musket fire. Given these precedents, the Imperial Guard’s attack appeared desperate even before it commenced.

The three Old Guard battalions followed at a distance, positioned to exploit any success achieved by the 3,500 soldiers of the Middle Guard. Though numerically insufficient against Wellington’s fortified position, these 3,500 men represented the cream of Napoleon’s army – seasoned veterans and fervent supporters of their emperor. They understood their deployment signaled a critical moment, and they marched with the confidence of troops who had never known defeat. Few military observers would have contested that Napoleon’s Imperial Guard ranked among Europe’s finest fighting forces.

The Broader Battlefield Context

The Middle Guard did not advance alone. Napoleon committed his remaining infantry to the front lines, applying pressure along the Allied ridge. These supporting forces advanced not in column formation but as thick skirmish lines, backed by the emperor’s remaining cavalry. Two companies of the Guard’s horse artillery accompanied the eight assault battalions, maintaining a constant bombardment of the ridge until the infantry closed distance.

This final assault represented the culmination of a battle that had begun the previous day at Quatre Bras, where Wellington’s forces had checked Marshal Ney’s advance. Napoleon’s strategy had relied on defeating the Anglo-Allied army before the Prussians could unite with Wellington. The arrival of Prussian troops under Bülow at Plancenoit around 4:30 PM had fundamentally altered the battle’s dynamics, forcing Napoleon to divert precious reserves to protect his right flank.

The political context heightened the battle’s significance. Napoleon had returned from exile on Elba just three months earlier, reclaiming power during the “Hundred Days” that threatened to undo the Vienna Congress’s settlement. For the European monarchies, Waterloo represented not merely a military engagement but a crusade against revolutionary principles embodied by Bonaparte.

The Emperor’s Deception

Napoleon personally led the Imperial Guard forward, riding at their head from the French ridge down into the valley before transferring command to Marshal Ney, who would lead the assault up the slope toward the Anglo-Dutch positions. To Napoleon’s right, beyond the smoke obscuring d’Erlon’s dead, new troops and artillery appeared on the Allied ridge – unmistakable evidence of Prussian reinforcements.

Understanding that news of Prussian arrival would devastate French morale, Napoleon orchestrated a deliberate deception. He ordered officers to spread false information that Grouchy’s forces would simultaneously assault Wellington’s left flank just as the Guard breached the Allied center. Among those tasked with disseminating this fiction was Colonel Octave Le Vavasseur, an artillery officer serving as one of Ney’s aides-de-camp.

Le Vavasseur’s memoirs vividly recount the scene: “I rode at a gallop, my hat balanced on the tip of my sword, shouting along the entire line: ‘Vive l’Empereur! Soldiers, Grouchy has arrived!’ A thousand voices took up the cry. The troops’ excitement reached a fever pitch. Everyone shouted: ‘Forward! Forward! Vive l’Empereur!'”

This coordinated deception extended across nearly the entire battlefield width. Every soldier capable of advancing received orders to press forward. Infantry who had captured La Haye Sainte stormed up the ridge, d’Erlon’s remnants rejoined the fight, survivors from General Bachelu’s brigade advanced near Hougoumont, where fighting flared anew as Foy’s men assaulted the farmhouse walls. General Reille’s troops advanced behind the Guard – all understanding this represented the day’s ultimate effort.

Ney’s Leadership in the Final Assault

Marshal Ney, “the bravest of the brave,” exhorted troops with characteristic fervor. Captain Pierre Robinaux, among the infantry assaulting Hougoumont, heard the red-haired marshal proclaim: “Take courage! The French army is victorious! The enemy is beaten everywhere!” Ney’s leadership embodied the desperate energy of this final push. Having already had four horses shot beneath him that day, the marshal now led the advance on foot, his uniform torn by bullets, face blackened with powder smoke.

The attack formation saw the Middle Guard battalions advancing in separate columns rather than a single massive force. This approach allowed flexibility but reduced concentrated striking power. The 1st and 2nd Battalions of the 3rd Grenadiers formed the first line, followed by the 3rd Battalion of the 3rd Grenadiers and the 3rd Battalion of the 3rd Chasseurs. The 4th Battalion of the 3rd Grenadiers and the 4th Battalion of the 3rd Chasseurs constituted the second line.

As the Imperial Guard began their ascent, they encountered increasingly heavy fire from artillery and skirmishers. The slope, softened by earlier rains, slowed their progress while offering little cover. Wellington had positioned his troops on the reverse slope, protecting them from direct artillery fire while allowing them to emerge fresh at the critical moment.

The Allied Response

Wellington’s forces prepared meticulously for this anticipated assault. The Duke had maintained key reserves precisely for this contingency, including the British Guards and fresh Brunswick troops. As the Imperial Guard advanced, Allied artillery switched from roundshot to canister – essentially turning cannons into giant shotguns that sprayed metal fragments across compact formations.

The critical moment arrived as the Imperial Guard neared the crest. Instead of finding broken troops as expected, they confronted disciplined volleys from Maitland’s Brigade of British Guards who had been lying down to avoid artillery fire. The famous exchange – “Up Guards! Ready!” – preceded devastating musketry that staggered the leading French battalions.

Simultaneously, Allied troops flanked the French columns, delivering enfilading fire into their vulnerable sides. The 52nd Light Infantry’s decisive wheel and volley particularly disrupted the Guard’s formation. Contrary to later mythology, not all Guard units broke immediately. Some battalions retreated in good order, while others dissolved under the combined pressure.

The Psychological Turning Point

The repulse of the Imperial Guard created psychological shockwaves across the battlefield. For French troops who had never seen the Guard falter, this reversal signaled ultimate defeat. The cry “La Garde recule!” spread panic through French ranks just as Prussian pressure intensified on the right flank.

Wellington seized this moment to order a general advance across his entire line. The sight of the Allied army moving forward, combined with Prussian attacks from the east, transformed French retreat into rout. The battle that had hung in balance for hours now decisively turned against Napoleon.

The three Old Guard battalions that had remained in reserve now formed squares to protect the emperor during the retreat. Their disciplined resistance allowed thousands of French troops to escape the field, though casualties mounted during the pursuit. Napoleon himself barely avoided capture, fleeing toward Charleroi as his army disintegrated.

Historical Significance and Legacy

The failure of the Imperial Guard’s final assault marked more than a tactical reversal – it represented the end of an era. Napoleon’s defeat at Waterloo concluded twenty-three years of nearly continuous warfare that had reshaped European boundaries and political structures. The battle’s outcome ensured the restoration of Bourbon monarchy in France and established a framework for European stability that would largely persist until World War I.

Waterloo entered popular imagination as a classic example of a “near-run thing,” as Wellington himself described it. The battle demonstrated the importance of coalition warfare, reliable communications, and combined arms tactics. Napoleon’s gamble with his Imperial Guard reflected his consistent willingness to risk everything on bold strokes – a strategy that had brought previous victories but now culminated in definitive defeat.

The mythologizing of the Imperial Guard’s last attack began immediately, with both French and Allied accounts exaggerating aspects to serve patriotic narratives. The reality remains that these elite troops fought with exceptional courage under impossible circumstances, their failure attributable more to broader battlefield dynamics than any lack of valor.

Conclusion: The End of an Epoch

As darkness finally fell on June 18, 1815, the fields around Mont-Saint-Jean presented a scene of unprecedented carnage. Approximately 50,000 men lay dead or wounded across a confined area, their sacrifice determining Europe’s political future. Napoleon’s final gamble with his Imperial Guard represented the culmination of military principles that had dominated warfare for two decades – the seeking of decisive battle through concentration of elite forces at the critical point.

The failure of this assault underscored how warfare had evolved beyond Napoleon’s classic formulas. Wellington’s defensive skill, the importance of allied cooperation, and the sheer resilience of professionally trained infantry had overcome French élan. The Imperial Guard’s defeat symbolized not merely a lost battle but the end of revolutionary expansionism and the closing of the Napoleonic epoch.

In the broader sweep of history, Waterloo marked the transition from the age of revolution to the age of conservatism that would characterize the nineteenth century until new nationalisms and ideologies emerged to challenge the Vienna settlement. The courage displayed by all combatants, particularly those final battalions ascending the ridge into history, ensured Waterloo would remain etched in military memory as a defining moment when Europe’s destiny hinged on a single throw of the dice.