his ten battalions were flung back in disorder, Wellington gave
the word to his whole line to advance. The rush of his reserves
of horse scattered the remnants of the tired and disheartened
host. The wreck of the grand army drifted back over the border,
and the dispirited Emperor, having risked everything in one bold
experiment and lost, hastened to Paris, and after a vain attempt
to rally the nation once more about his standard, abandoned hope
and sought refuge on board the "Bellerophon," British man-of-war
(July 15, 1815). At nine o'clock in the evening of the memorable
day of Waterloo, Blucher and Wellington met. The grizzled
Prussian kissed the grave Englishman on both cheeks in the
exuberance of his joy. Without the timely support of his Germans,
that day might have had another ending.

Waterloo was the last act of the Napoleonic struggle. The Emperor
went into exile at St. Helena to fret against his prison bars and
curse his keepers. Wellington had already exhausted his country's
sources of honor. All that Parliament could do was to present the
fine estate of Strathfieldsaye to him and his heirs on condition
of presenting a French tri-color flag to the sovereign at Windsor
on each anniversary of the 18th of June.

Wellington was above all a soldier, but for the remaining thirty-
six years of his lifetime his country had little employment for
the sword. Yet the esteem in which he was held, not only for his
military achievements, but for his honesty and common sense, made
him a conspicuous figure in public affairs for most of his long
life. After Waterloo he remained in France, where his moderation
saved Paris from the vengeance of the continental commanders. Of
the allied army of occupation which remained in France until