The often quoted remark of Wellington disowning his Irishness – that ‘just because you were born in a stable does not necessarily make you a horse’– is neither definitively attributable to him to nor is the context in which it was supposedly said understood. The words may have been uttered by him in a discussion in which someone made a remark about a particular Irish unit having a reputation for heavy drinking, when he wished to distance himself from this, meaning that because he too was Irish did not necessarily make him a heavy drinker. He was equally attributed with the remark that ‘the Battle of Waterloo was won on the playing fields of Eaton’, a school and a time of his life of which he did not have happy memories. There is little likelihood that Wellington ever uttered either remark, and every likelihood that he uttered neither.
Wellington’s Irishness is not in question. It could not have been then, as it cannot be now. He would have known this at the time, and he would not have seen his Irishness as mutually exclusive to his Englishness. He would have regarded himself as both, something that was commonly understood by the Ascendancy class of the time. To a large extent the Anglo-Irish officer class regarded themselves, and in turn were regarded, as Irish, British, or English simultaneously. They were not obliged to choose between identities. If they chose to ignore any aspect of their simultaneous identities, it is doubtful that they could have actually achieved that, as this is simply how they were regarded. Wellington had an inescapable identity, and this inherited identity was inescapably Irish.
‘Clockwork Musketry’
Fire-power was the most decisive factor on the battlefield, and whoever brought the most of it to bear invariably won. More precisely, it was the effect that massed, well-packed lines of infantry produced by steadily delivering a constant out-pouring of volley fire that mattered. In short, it was its ‘stopping power’ that was important. The Battle of Waterloo was a specific instance of this. Napoleon wanted to destroy Wellington’s army, which, to survive, had to stand its ground unflinchingly. Waterloo was where Wellington’s cautious but courageous defensive posture was to be pitted against Napoleon’s offensive manoeuvring élan and verve.
Fighting formation brought fire-power to bear. The singular soldier, a trained man with his muzzle-loaded, smooth-bore flintlock ‘Brown Bess’ musket, was virtually useless alone, but with others could be highly effective.. The rate of fire, range, and accuracy determined the musket’s effect. These were slow, short, and inaccurate, respectively. Combined, however, cool continuous discharged volumes of volley fire in groups could be harnessed to give deadly effect, especially if fire was held until the enemy had closed to within 50 yards or less.
To achieve the effective use of all available muskets, or the greater part thereof, a defensive formation appropriate to the circumstances combined with steadiness in the ranks was key. Individual mastery of weapon handling was crucial and it was here the highly trained British soldier had earned a reputation for a steady, well-practised proficiency. The ‘Brown Bess’ had a barrel length of 39 inches and weighed slightly in excess of nine pounds. To achieve a high rate of fire, three rounds per minute, without wavering, the soldier had to be highly trained, well drilled, and disciplined. The ‘Brown Bess’ or ‘Indian Pattern’, being a muzzle-loaded weapon, required the soldier to stand up to do so and since it was a flintlock, the mechanics of firing were somewhat involved. Suffice to say that loading, aiming, and firing was a complicated process, requiring 20 individual movements to fire each round. The overall objective was to achieve three rounds per minute or 20 seconds per round, thus allowing one second per movement – and all the while the enemy approaching or even firing at you. Reliable infantry in separate entities of a cohesive whole were trained to fire at the same moment, or to provide a continuous running volley, the entire formation delivering their murderous execution by maintaining a steadiness in the ranks and a consistency in volume. To achieve this effect in battle, well-trained infantry needed to be well led. At the time, officers in the British army received their commissions by purchase, while advancement was secured by payment, seniority, or patronage. A vacancy had to exist and he who sought it had to have money to buy it. Merit or talent had little bearing on the matter. The sons of landed gentry provided their fair share of officers to the army and navy, and these ‘gentlemen’ were literate, could ride and shoot, and possessed a natural authoritative air and an innate sense of fairness. So the system, worked. The aristocracy, contrary to popular belief, was by no means all-pervasive among the officer ranks, which also included the sons of professionals, ‘gentlemen in trade’, smaller landowners and farmers, and, of course sons of serving or retired officers. Land, wealth, and education, all together or separately, were the all-important qualifications, and of them all the ability to read and write proved the great social divider.
Fire-power was, of course, also provided by artillery, and Wellington kept a tight tactical control over his gunners. The Royal Engineers and the Royal Artillery trained their officers before giving them commissions, and only on passing their exams. A rigid adherence to seniority meant promotion was slow and would have been more so had it not expanded threefold between 1791 and 1814 (274 to 727 officers), and the Royal Military Academy at Woolwich, established in 1741, was hard put to keep pace with the call for officers. The Royal Artillery, although deployed all over the world, was nonetheless much centralised at Woolwich. A close-knit grouping, they shared a strong, proud ethos, and it was a family affair. Many were the sons of gunner officers, and there was much inter-marriage with sisters and daughters of fellow gunner officers. The 12th century St Nicholas Plumstead parish church near Woolwich in Kent was situated in open space on ground that sloped gently to the Thames River. It was here on the 16 May 1815, that Second Lieutenant William Harrison Harvey, Royal Artillery, second son of John Harvey, a member of the legal profession who had a reasonable size estate at Mount Pleasant, County Wexford, married Elisabeth Mary Colebrooke of Barn Cottage in Eltham near London. Elizabeth was the daughter of Colonel Paulet Colebrooke (Royal Artillery) and his wife Elizabeth Jane. Colonel Paulet Colebrooke returned from a tour of duty in Ceylon in 1815 and died in 1816. He had a son, William Macbean George Colebrooke, who served in the Royal Artillery and who became a career diplomat after his service. William Harrison Harvey served in Major William Lloyd’s Brigade of the Royal Artillery at Waterloo where he lost an arm. His wedding day was also the day he left for Belgium, and before leaving he and his new wife Elizabeth longingly embraced; it would be the first and last time Elizabeth would feel both her husband’s arms around her. William’s father John was a first cousin of Beauchamp Bagenal Harvey who led the 1798 rebellion in Wexford. William’s brother was named George Washington Harvey, his father demonstrating his anti-British politics in so naming him. George Washington Harvey and another brother had both died separately in 1813 while serving with the Royal Navy. John Harvey had married Mary Harrison (William Harvey’s mother), the daughter of William Harrison of Castle Harrison near Charleville in County Cork. Mary Harrison’s brother William was married to Margaret O’Grady, a daughter of Standish O’Grady who was the prosecutor of Robert Emmet in 1803. William Harrison had fought with the Austrian army against Napoleon until 1793.
All of this demonstrates a not untypical instance of the web of connectivity between families, their inter-marriage, and seemingly contradictory sympathies arising from Ireland’s past history. This inter-relationship of the ‘Irish’ with different and sometimes differing perspectives on matters reveals the complicated allegiances and confusing and confused loyalties of the Anglo-Irish gentry of those times. Much of these, however, were very much aligned in opposing Napoleon’s latest belligerent advances into Europe. He had to be stopped, and it was only fire-power that would do so.
‘Humbugged’
The town of Charleroi, where Wellington had not expected Napoleon to cross the French frontier into Belgium was exactly where he did so with more than 120,000 men of his Armée du Nord. Napoleon had again executed his ‘strategy of the central position’, striking hard and fast, using surprise, speed, and security to come between the forces of a larger foe. To turn numerical disadvantage to advantage by driving a wedge between both of his opponent’s halves, then
