A — Les Misérables

Those persons who wish to gain a clear idea of the battle of Waterloo have only to place, mentally, on the ground, a capital A. The left limb is the road to Nivelles. The right limb is the road to Genappe. The tie of the A is the hollow road to Ohain from Braine-l'Alleud. The top of the A is Mont-Saint-Jean, where Wellington is. The lower left tip is Hougomont, where Reille is stationed with Jérôme Bonaparte. The right tip is the Belle-Alliance, where Napoleon was. At the centre of this chord is the precise point where the final word of the battle was pronounced. It was there that the lion has been placed, the involuntary symbol of the supreme heroism of the Imperial Guard. The triangle in the top of the A is the plateau of Mont-Saint-Jean. The dispute over this plateau constituted the whole battle. D'Erlon facing Picton, Reille facing Hill. Behind the plateau, the forest of Soignes.

Let the reader picture a vast undulating sweep of ground. Each rise commands the next, and all the undulations mount toward Mont-Saint-Jean and end in the forest. Two hostile troops are two wrestlers. It is a question of seizing the opponent round the waist. A bush is a point of support; an angle of wall a rest for the shoulder; a grove, a ravine, can stay the heel of that colossus which is called an army. He who quits the field is beaten. Hence the leader must examine the most insignificant clump of trees. Both generals had studied the plain. In the preceding year Wellington, with the sagacity of foresight, had examined it as the possible seat of a great battle. On the 18th of June Wellington had the good post, Napoleon the bad post. The English army was stationed above, the French army below.

It is almost superfluous to sketch Napoleon on horseback, glass in hand, upon the heights of Rossomme at daybreak. All the world has seen him before we can show him: the little three-cornered hat, the green uniform, the white horse with purple velvet and crowned N's, the sword of Marengo. That whole figure of the last of the Caesars is present to all imaginations, greeted by some, severely regarded by others. That figure stood for a long time wholly in the light. A legendary dimness veils the truth for a while; but today history and daylight have arrived. That light called history is pitiless. Precisely because it is wholly light, it often casts a shadow in places where people had hitherto beheld rays. From the same man it constructs two different phantoms, and the one attacks the other. The shadows of the despot contend with the brilliancy of the leader. Babylon violated lessens Alexander. Rome enchained lessens Caesar. Jerusalem murdered lessens Titus. Tyranny follows the tyrant. It is a misfortune for a man to leave behind him the night which bears his form.