The Sun.
London, England, 1838-08-05 00:00:00

Quartre Bras; but the English retained the
sition they had occupied, though they suf.,
fered great loss, including the Duke of Bruns-
wick, who was a gallant soldier, and universally
regretted. Bonaparte, after defeating Blucher,
directed a large part of his troops towards Nen,
with the view of forcing the position of Quartre
Bras. But the Duke of Wellington, on learn-
ing the retreat of Blucher on the morning of
the 17th, knew that he must also fall back, and
having masqued his intentions in a masterly
manner, he retreated to preserve his com-
munications with the Prussians, and took up
new ground on the field of Waterloo. There,
on the 18th of June, Bonaparte, at the head
of about 76,000 men, directed all to that point,
assailed Wellington, who on the same spot bad r
collected about 74,000 men. It was towards
n9on when the advance of the French began,
and the village of Hougomont was the object
of their attack. From that time till nightfall,
the rival Generals continued to direct with
all their energy all their forces as they could
bring them to bear, to wrest, or to retain that
single spot. Tremendous was the continued
roar of artillery; the trampling of horses, the
furious charges of cavalry and infantry; the
oaths, the shouts, the shrieks, andthe cursings ;
till finally, Bonaparte, as his last effort, led his
guard to the assault. Hi; guard, the firmest
soldiers of France, was defeated and repulsed ;
terror then seized his brave troops; the Prus-
sians had again advanced on the field—had
driven before them the corps appointed to keep
them in check—and Buonaparte then seeing all
was lost, fled from the field.
On this memorable day,- Wellington placed
nimseif near a remarkable tree in the centre of
his position, and watching every part of the
battle, directed his masses to the points where
they were most required. More than once he
rallied some of his retreating troops, and more
than once be led fresh forces to the attack.
One sees in Bonaparte's manoeuvres a great
principle—that of sending his masses to one
point—and the knowledge of his mode of attack
taught Wellington to defeat him. Never for
one moment did the illuatrious Commander
waver, and he owes this great victory—first, to
his own unflinching dogged resolution—and
next to that steady firmness and unyieldingness
which s the distinguishing characteristic of the
troops be commanded. All military men give
Bonaparte great praise for his tactics, and it
seems generally to be their opinion that, with
any other General than one so excessively firm
as Wellington, and with any other troops than
the English, Bonaparte would have been victo-
rious.

The loss of human life in this great battle,
which may be said to have lasted three days,
and in the retreat of the French, which soon
assumed' the character of a flight, it is im-
possible to ascertain. Of the English and
German Legion alone upwards of 11,000 men
and 700 officers fell, killed or wounded on
the field ; and including the Prussians and
the rest of the force, probably not less than
20,000 of the Allies were killed and wounded
on the 18th. Probably the loss of life during
the three days' fighting was on their side not
less than 40,000 men ; and on the side of the
enemy it might on the whole be double that
amount. We are now enabled to estimate
better than at the time the advantages of this
brilliant success ; and one mourns—one weeps
at discovering that so much bravery—such
consummate skill—such vast energy, which
might have enriched and adorned the world,
and such an immense waste of human life,
should have tended to so little good.
We, who have lived to see the results of
that victory, know that it gave no free-
dom to mankind; that those who triumphed
over Bonaparte, were more desirous of
seizing his power and imitating his tyranny,
than of conferring happiness on their subjects.
The broken promises of almost all Europe's
Kings—the fierce assaults which the political
allies of the Duke of Wellington in England,
the Castlereaghs, and the Sidmouths made on
our liberties—the reluctance with which the
Duke himself ever conceded any freedom to
the people, make us now say that that great
battle, for aught, except the lesson it taught
us to mistrust all those, whatever may be their
names, style, titles, and professions, who gain
or keep power by the sword, was fought in
vain. It was no gain to the liberty of Europe.
Prussia was victorious, and Prussia has a raill-
ery despotism as iron as that of Bonaparte.
The brave Hanoverians laid down their
lives only now to be trampled on as the serfs
of Prince Ernest ; and the British were
compelled, in 1830 to conquer Wellington--
the Conqueror—under the influence of a
second revolution In Prance, not to get
extended liberties, but to preserve what we
before had. The great battle of Waterloo,
in which our blood flowed so profusely, did '
for us little more than rivet on us the fet-
ters of the Corn-law-making Aristocracy and
an unchristian Church. For such results--for
restoring the dominion of the Bourbons and the
priests in France—for replacing in strength the
old aristocracy of blood in Germany—and re-
leasing from apprehension the new aristocracy
of wealth in Britain—the battle, however
much we admire the skill and the bravery by
which it was won, was rather to be deplored
than admired.
We mention the Duke of Wellington's pro-
ceeding to Paris immediately after the battle,
and taking an active part in the settling the
political affairs of the world, to notice the as-
sertions that were then and for some time made
against him, for having allowed Marshal Ney
to be shot. The Convention of Paris, to
which he was a party, was made with the Allies,
and it pledged them not to molest any one on
account of political opinions. The French in-
terpreted it to pledge Louis XVIII., whom •
th© Allies imposed on them, and who was their
vassal, to the same conditions, but be refused'
to abide by them. He caused Labedoyere and'
Ncy to be tried and executed, and they ap-
pealed particularly the latter, to the Con-
vention of Paris, and to Wellington for pro-
tection. Their appeal was disregarded, and
they were shot. Now we do not say that
the Duke should have prevented this—it might
have been beyond his power—but we never
heard that he tried. He might have been on
that occasion coldly just--there is no proof
that he was obtrusively generous. He might
have done his duty; he made no professions
of humanity. or of sparing the blood of the
the brave. We know what the defence of such
policy is; but it is impossible now to persuade
mankind, that for a victorious party to take the
lives of their opponents, on the pretext of
preserving the authority of the law, and of
punishing treason, is anything but vengeful
murder. Nor does experience justify the act.
The Bourbons have all the opprobrium of it
on their memory, but they have not pre-
served their throne. It justly excited hatred
and dread, and was the first of that series of
violent acts, the consequences of embracing
ultra-legitimate doctrines, which aroused young
France at length agaiwt them, and made
them again exiles from their country. Forbear-
ance and generosity sparing Nev, which fools
call weakness, might have preserved France for
the Bowl-os. The share of ti-c Duke of
Wellington in that lamentable butchery, if it
reflect no. discredit on him, certainly cannot be
told to bi. honour.
After the fleet:path-at of Paris by the Allied
troops, the Duke of Wellington took en active
part in all the negoeiations aid treaties on
uh.ch the present settlement of Europe
was
estahltshtd, and shone as
i conspicuously in
performing the duties of a Statesman as those
of (4,•tieral.

This reference to the functions which at that
time devolvid on the Deke as the representa-
tive of England in the discussions at Paris for
settling the affairs cf Europe, brings to our
minds an aticiiote of his Grace whilst actingiu
04 capacity, which is so striking an example
of his forbearance. firmness, and disinterestea_
tress than we think it riOtt to state it, especiaily
as it has hitherto come to the knowledge 'of a
very limited. p-,:rtion. of the public. At a very
early eimfure.cee ,tha Ministers of the 'Allies
Pt Paris, the tithitister of the King of the
Netherlactls, put the direct question to the
Duke of Wellington, bether he had received
soy instructions 'rota, or knew the intentions of
his Court.as to the integrity nr demon ion of
the galleries, to which the Duke distinctly re-
plied, that be had not received .uly instructions
Jrnm his Court upon the subject, and as his
Court did not,interfeie wi:h the galleries emthe
former occasion (meaning upon the first resters-.
lion of the Bourbons), he had no reason to
suppose they would interfere ou the present
oc-
c-stun. This seemed to be received as satis-
factory at the moment, aml nothing- further was
said upuu it at that time, Lot, at a subsequent
conference, a cuns,iderable time afterwards, the
Minister of that King of the Netherlands re-
newed the subject, and stated to the surprise of
all present, that a positiv.e promise bad been
made by the, King of France (Luis XVIII.)
during the short period of Bonaparte's
to his Master the King
re-
sumption a the throne,
of the NetherlandF, that if he (Louis), ain,uld
ever recover the Crown, he would .restore ,to
the King of the Netherlands, all the works of
art beloginFf to Holland and Belgium, Which
were then in the Louvre, and that as all mu-
ters connected with the settlement of affairs
lintAreci tken t 4 be bicugtt to Lt