Far different was the scene at the front.  There the third act of the drama was beginning.  After half an hour of the heaviest cannonade ever known, Wellington’s faithful troops were threatened by an avalanche of cavalry, and promptly fell into the “chequer” disposition previously arranged for the most exposed division, that of Alten.  Napoleon certainly hoped either to crush Wellington outright by a mighty onset of horse, or to strip him bare for the coup de grace.  At the Caillou farm in the morning he said:  “I will use my powerful artillery; my cavalry shall charge; and I will advance with my Old Guard.”  The use of cavalry on a grand scale was no new thing in his wars.  By it he had won notable advantages, above all at Dresden; and he believed that footmen, when badly shaken by artillery, could not stand before his squadrons.  The French cavalry, 15,000 strong at the outset, had as yet suffered little, and the way had been partly cleared by the last assaults on Hougoumont and La Haye Sainte, where the defenders were wholly occupied in self-defence.

But Ney certainly pressed the first charge too soon.  Doubtless he was misled by the retirement of our first line a little way behind the crest to gain some slight shelter from the iron storm.  Looking on this prudent move as a sign of retreat he led forward the cuirassiers of Milhaud; and as these splendid brigades trotted forward, the chasseurs a cheval of the Guard and “red” lancers joined them.  More than 5,000 strong, these horsemen rode into the valley, formed at the foot of the slope, and then, under cover of their artillery, began to breast the slope.  At its crest the guns of the allies opened on them point-blank; but, despite their horrible losses, they swept on, charged through the guns and down the reverse slope towards the squares.  Volley after volley now tore through with fearful effect, and the survivors swerved to the intervals.  Their second and third lines fared little better; astonished at so stout a stand, where they looked to find only a few last despairing efforts, they fell into faltering groups.

“As to the so-called charges,” says Basil Jackson, “I do not think that on a single occasion actual collision occurred.  I many times saw the cuirassiers come on with boldness to within some twenty or thirty yards of a square, when, seeing the steady firmness of our men, they invariably edged away and retired.  Sometimes they would halt and gaze at the triple row of bayonets, when two or three brave officers would advance and strive to urge the attack, raising their helmets aloft on their sabres—­but all in vain, as no efforts could make the men close with the terrible bayonets, and meet certain destruction."[516]

After the fire of the rear squares had done its work, our cavalry fell on the wavering masses; and, as they rode off, the gunners ran forth from the squares and plied them with shot.  In a few minutes the mounted host that seemed to have swallowed up the footmen was gone, the red and blue chequers stood forth triumphant, and the guns that should have been spiked dealt forth death.  Down below, the confused mass shaped itself for a new charge while its supports routed our horsemen.