Issuing from the orchard, and crossing the
little ravine on the north side just mentioned,
we became sensible of at least one enemy.
This was a blue-slopped Belgic peasant. We
had paid a franc at the farm for the privilege
of going over the fields in pursuit of our
inquiries, but here our guide informed us that
we were on the edge of another property, and
in ascending the slope to the site of the main
army, we must be careful not to set even a
foot in a clover-field before us. A slight track
along its edge indicated its boundary, and to
that track we were warned to keep carefully.
Such is the jealousy of the Belgians of the
English guide, and English visitors who do
not employ them, that they watch the visitors
to the field as a cat watches mice, and a single
foot set on their land, consigns you at once to
the hands of a couple of gendarmes, who
march you off two miles to a magistrate.
You are usually punished with a fine of
five francs! The blue-frocked man kept
a scowling watch upon us, and appeared
cruelly disappointed that we did not fall into
his tender mercies. Numerous are the
instances of English, and Americans mistaken
for them, who on going to the different
monuments on the field, which are surrounded
with corn, have thus been snapped up, and,
despite indignant remonstrance, marched off,
and fined. No stranger should, in summer,
venture on the field without a guide.

Escaping the clutches of this "brave Belge,"
we ascended the slope, and soon stood on the
ridge, along whose field-road ran the front
line of the Allied Army, in length upwards of
a mile and a half. The Lion Mount, in whose
vicinity the battle raged most fiercely, is about
the centre of the line, or about three-quarters
of a mile from Hougoumont. Between that
and the junction of this field-road with the
Nivelles road, the Duke of Wellington was
moving during the chief time of the battle.
To our left sloped away the ground towards
Waterloo, and on this slope the Duke kept
his main reserve of troops, ordering them to
lie down, so that they were protected from
the enemy's fire till they were wanted, and to
our right lay the great field of contest. We
ascended to the top of the mount, which is
upwards of two hundred feet high, and
sixteen hundred and eighty feet in circumference.
A flight of steps is cut in one side of the
mount, and a cord fastened to very rickety
poles, is the hand-rail by which you ascend.
Once up, however, you are amply repaid for
your labour. The Lion stands above you on his
massy pedestal, raised on three gigantic steps,
and before you lies all the field of Waterloo,
distinct, and perfectly intelligible. Right and
left of you, and behind, between you and the
farm of Mont St. Jean, stood the allied army.
Down to the right lies Hougoumont, amid its
orchard trees. A little below you on the left,
and on the great Genappe road, lies the farm
of La Haye Sainte, the possession of which
was so fiercely contested, and which was the
most advanced post gained by the French.
Between you and La Haye Sainte stands two
monuments—one on each side of the Genappe
road. The one on this side is that of Colonel
Gordon—that on the other is that of the
Hanoverian officers of the German Legion
who fell on that spot. Not far from these,
but on the Mont St. Jean side of the crossroad,
is the spot where General Picton was
killed, and some distance farther to the left,
that where General Ponsonby fell, near
Papelotte. Close to La Haye Sainte is the grave
of Shaw, the brave Life-guardsman; and a
little beyond, on a slight elevation, but
sufficient to command the view of the field,
Napoleon took his stand during the greater
part of the conflict. About half a mile still
farther on the Genappe road, which cuts the
field direct across, on the opposite ascending
slope, stands the farm of La Belle Alliance,
now a public–house,—a spot scarcely less
fiercely contested than Hougoumont. Here
was Buonaparte's right wing, and his lines
extended thence along the slope to Hougoumont
enclosures, about half a mile, and all
round them. Looking on to the horizon
beyond La Belle Alliance, you see the woods
which conceal the battle-ground of Quatre
Bras, where Wellington was engaged with
Ney on the 16th, while Buonaparte was
fighting with Blücher at Ligny. About
three quarters of a mile, left of La Haye
Sainte, and beyond it, lies Planchenois, where
the French and Prussians had a sharp fight,
and near it stands the Prussian monument to
their slain there. All to the left between the
wood of Hubermont near Planchenois and
those of Frischemont, nearly parallel with the
ground on which you stand, was occupied by
the Prussians, under Blücher, when, late in
the day, but not too late to be of signal
service, he appeared on the field and engaged
the right of the French.

Over all this scene the battle raged from
forenoon till night, except in the Prussian
portion of it. Everywhere deeds of eternal
memory were done, while five hundred pieces
of artillery mowed down men like weeds.
But especially around this mount raged the
fury of the tempest of death. Charge after
charge of the French cavalry swept across the
valley between the two armies, and dashed on
the serried files of the Allies—only to be flung
back again like waves from the ocean rocks;
till, as the sun was casting his setting beams
over the hill, the final hour was come—Ney
led up the hitherto invincible Imperial Guards,
twelve thousand strong—the English Duke
gave the decisive word, "Up guards, and at
them!" the finest infantry the world
produced confronted each other, and after a
shock, like that of an earthquake, the veterans
of Jena, Austerlitz, and Wagram reeled
backward before the exterminating fire—and, in
the expressive words of Ney, "became
annihilated—not a man of them ever to rally
more."