by Tim Clayton
Scattered men gathered calmly beyond the trees. As a private recalled, ‘we then went to the far end of the wood where we got out and formed up and numbered off, but we mustered very small.’11 They did no further fighting.
The cuirassiers now swept into Quatre Bras. The Lüneburg Landwehr, who occupied the ditch formerly held by the 92nd, held their fire until the cavalry was within thirty yards and then shot off a volley, backed up by canister from two guns of Kuhlmann’s horse battery that had raced ahead of the Guards division and unlimbered in front of the farmhouse on the Charleroi road just in time. To the right, the Brunswick line infantry remained steady in square. Their new commander, Colonel Johann Olfermann, was a trained oboist; having joined the British army as a music master, he was wounded and decorated at the battle of Alexandria, before becoming adjutant to Edward Pakenham in the Peninsula where he met and became an intimate friend of the Duke of Brunswick. He stood in the midst of the second battalion, encouraging them with shouts of ‘Well done, men, bravo 2nd Line battalion!’12
In the face of this devastating close-range artillery and musket fire, the French charge was brought to an end and the cuirassiers fled back the way they had come, hopelessly routed. Kellermann had his horse shot; it fell on him and he only narrowly escaped, while his brigade lost 250 of its 791 men.13 Those still on horseback galloped hell for leather from the field while, behind them, many unhorsed but unwounded cuirassiers attempted to scamper away, dodging bullets as they fled; among the escapees were Kellermann, General Guiton and Colonel Garavaque.
Kellerman reckoned that they would have had more success had the promised support from Piré’s lancers actually materialised. In fact several British witnesses recalled lancers supporting the cuirassiers,14 but whether or not this was so, nobody could blame Piré’s cavalry, whose efforts during the day had already been extraordinary. So too had been Kellermann’s charge; had Ney only had infantry in a position to make another major push, it might once again have turned the tide.
In the event, the charge had most effect in the opposite direction. The rout of the cuirassiers was spectacular. In the rear division of d’Erlon’s corps, Louis Canler had been standing for hours within sight of the chaussée where their baggage wagons were stacked up south of Frasnes, barely moving while the head of the column dithered. Suddenly huge numbers of horsemen hurtled towards them. Canler’s regiment formed square, but the baggage drivers panicked. Taking Guiton’s cuirassiers for the enemy or expecting them to be closely pursued, the drivers streamed off in rout, telling everyone who would listen that British cavalry were on their heels. According to Jean-Baptiste Lemonnier-Delafosse, Foy’s chief of staff, the remainder of the cuirassier division that had been waiting in reserve was carried away in the rout of Guiton’s men – if this was so, it would explain their subsequent inactivity and the shock of other witnesses at the extent of the rout. So far did the cuirassiers flee, indeed, that they were said to have caused a disturbance in Charleroi.15
Ney could not have asked more of his men. But with the defeat of Kellermann’s cavalry and the arrival of yet more British reinforcements in the shape of the Guards division from Nivelles, he was now forced to stand on the defensive. Hope of victory had finally to be abandoned. In his post-campaign report of 26 June, Ney blamed the Emperor for depriving him of glory at Quatre Bras by taking away d’Erlon’s corps without informing him, but, although to some degree his frustration was justified, he might have done better to obey orders.16
33
Blücher’s Fall
Ligny, 7–10 p.m.
On the other battlefield, as the Imperial Guard pushed forward up the slope from the Ligne stream, it was the Prussians who were being forced into a fighting retreat.
Of the rifle bullets he had cast so recently, volunteer Jäger Franz Lieber had only one left, saved for an emergency. He first felt real uneasiness when his battalion was charged by horse grenadiers as the skirmishers of his Colberg Regiment fled from Ligny and they were ordered to ‘hive’ – to form clusters of men with bayonets pointing outwards – but they held off the cavalry and got away. During the retreat he met his brother, who had been wounded in the foot and was riding on an ammunition cart. Lieber’s company had been reduced from eighty to thirty, but, to his satisfaction, they had earned the respect of the old regular soldiers of the regiment.1
To cover the retreat, the musketeers of the 21st Pomeranians formed line and tried to drive the French infantry back, but one battalion was mauled by General Delort’s cuirassiers, who had got behind them without being seen by skirting the village to the west.2 Skirmishers of the 29th Regiment fought fiercely to prevent the French seizing retreating artillery.
The storm that had broken over the battlefield was violent but short; as Blücher rode over from the right wing, the rain stopped and the sun shone through dispersing thundercloud. He now led Röder’s cavalry in a bid to halt the French advance. Colonel von Lützow rode at the head of the 6th Uhlans, while General von Röder himself led the 1st West Prussian dragoons, with Landwehr following. Charging the square of the French 4th Grenadiers, under the impression that they were National Guard militia because they wore shabby uniforms with shakos instead of the Guards’ usual bearskins, the Uhlan lancers had not seen that there was a ditch in their way. Just as they reached this obstacle the grenadiers fired a volley. They shot like Guards rather than militia, and thirteen officers and seventy men fell.3 When some cuirassiers counter-attacked, the Uhlans fled and Lützow, the famous leader of the partisan brigade that had adopted his name was unhorsed and captured; he was a prisoner Napoleon had coveted for years.
As the 2nd Dragoons began to gain pace they were charged in the left flank by cuirassiers. At the same time the routed lancers galloped through their files and the regiment broke and fled. Other charges too failed, and in the confusion as they turned to flee, the white horse that the Prince Regent had given Prince Blücher was hit in the left flank by a bullet.4 Blücher tried to ride on to escape the pursuing cuirassiers, but the horse quickly became weaker and he just had time to shout to his aide-de-camp, ‘Nostitz, now I’m done for,’ when his horse fell dead, trapping the old man underneath it. Nostitz, whose own horse was wounded in the neck, turned back, dismounted, and crouched low over Blücher’s dead horse, pistol in hand.5
On the left, having discovered that the broad stream which protected them in defence proved to be an obstruction to an attack, the Prussians were finally advancing. Around 7.30 Johann von Thielmann made a general advance, pushing three cavalry regiments supported by a horse battery across the stream.6 Finding themselves apparently faced by French artillery with no visible support, two squadrons of Prussian dragoons charged the guns. It was a trap. One brigade of French dragoons charged their front and another hit their flank. The Prussian dragoons carried away the rest of the cavalry in their flight, and the pursuing French captured the whole of horse battery no. 19, which they then turned against the Prussians. Kurmark Landwehr covered the debacle and when one squadron of French dragoons, disobeying orders, went in pursuit, they suffered 100 casualties in consequence.7 This incident, however, quashed Prussian ambition to attack. Both Gneisenau and Röder felt that the cavalry had performed badly, blaming the untrained state of the new regiments and the dilution of the old, which had lost experienced squadrons and officers.
Meanwhile, French units poured into the breach in the Prussian centre. Delort’s cuirassiers were now riding for the headquarters windmill on top of the hill, and Drouot’s artillery was aiming at the Prussian reserves there. Gneisenau and his staff left the windmill and fell back. Nobody knew where Blücher was, but it seemed likely he was dead or captured. Behind the lines there was much disorder and some of the less experienced and motivated troops fled, dropping their guns and running east along the highway to Namur, although in the front line experienced units held out with determination.8 The right wing pulled out in obstinate good order and at Brye Otto von Pirch’s brigade, supported by sixteen guns and
Westphalian Landwehr cavalry, acted as rearguard to receive and protect the retreating battalions. Krafft improvised a rearguard to cover the centre, getting the whole of his Elbe Regiment and the 9th Colberg in position to make a stand on the road from Brye to Sombreffe, a position they held until the early morning. To the east, Steinmetz’s 24th Regiment, which had been decoyed towards Sombreffe, got into a three-sided square with its back to the Ligne stream to fight off French cavalry, before Steinmetz’s other battalions advanced in squares to cover the retreat. The thunderstorm had made the fields muddy and sticky and the Prussians struggled to get their guns back, but infantry helped to haul the cannon and desperate cavalry charges bought time for the Prussians to save almost all of their artillery.
The 1st Grenadiers and Chasseurs marched eastward to support General Hulot’s division which had taken the farm of Potriaux and was threatening to take Sombreffe, but Steinmetz was able to block their advance. Antoine Maurin, the commander of Gérard’s cavalry division, was badly wounded in a charge on this rearguard at the close of the day.
It was the day’s final action. The French camped on the battlefield; Vandamme had his headquarters at Saint-Amand, Gérard at Ligny. The 1st Chasseurs accompanied the Emperor back to Fleurus where he spent the night at the pretty Château de la Paix, on the northern fringe of the town, with his staff at the Château de Zualart, the home of the mayor.
Estimates of Prussian losses at Ligny have varied dramatically between the 6000 killed and wounded of the British historian James and the 24,856 of Sergeant Hippolyte de Mauduit, who had walked over the field the morning after. Since Blücher and Gneisenau admitted to losses of 12–15,000 in their report to the king written next day, James’s figure can be dismissed.9 Like some other British writers, he sought to minimise the apparent impact of a battle that might otherwise be seen to detract from the significance of the great British victory at Waterloo which was to follow two days later. The British horse artillery commander Sir Augustus Frazer heard the following day that the Prussians had lost 14,000 killed and wounded and sixteen guns; the final figure was probably twenty-two. It was also rumoured that the French had captured all the Prussian reserve ammunition.10
In fact the true figure for Prussian losses, at around 18,000, was probably higher than Gneisenau’s top estimate,11 Müffling gave total losses for 15 and 16 June in killed, taken prisoner or disabled by wounds as 20,900.12 In addition, about 10,000 men, nearly all of them recently conscripted Westphalians and Rhinelanders, took the opportunity to run away during the night. At the close of the battle of Ligny Gneisenau had only 55,500 men remaining of the 83,500 who had begun the fight.
French casualties are equally difficult to compute since no official figures survive for most units. On the morning of 17 June Soult reported to Davout that his impression was that their losses had been light – no more than 3000. If he really thought so, he was soon disabused, for Gérard’s official return next day gave his casualties alone as 3686, while Girard’s division lost 1900 out of 3900.13 Houssaye revised Napoleon’s figure of 6950 upwards to 8500, but this is still too low. Sir Charles Oman derived a figure from known officer losses of 10–12,000.14 Mauduit produced an estimate of French casualties of 13,860 and the most painstaking modern analysis has come up with 13,721.15
It had been a far more costly and a far less complete victory than Napoleon had envisaged, but it had at least been a victory and the Prussians had been very badly mauled. His inexperienced staff had proved incapable of coordinating the change of plan with Marshal Ney, who still had more or less no staff at all. Although ultimately futile to enquire what might have happened had d’Erlon’s 20,000 fresh men stormed along the chaussée towards Quatre Bras in accordance with their original orders, or had they completed the Emperor’s new plan by surging up the gentle slope to the north of Wagnelée to trap Blücher’s Prussians, it is easy to imagine that in either case their contribution might have been decisive for that battle and possibly for the campaign. In the event, d’Erlon vacillated until it was too late, and because of the inaction of his corps Blücher’s army was not surrounded and crushed; neither was a decisive breakthrough achieved against Wellington to clear the road to Brussels. The Emperor had missed a golden opportunity.
34
Wellington’s Offensive
Quatre Bras, 7–9 p.m.
The arrival of the Guards division an hour or so after Alten’s took Wellington’s theoretical total force to 33,000 men and 70 guns. Although some battalions and some guns had been knocked out, this represented a third of his army.
The Guards had marched as quickly as they could from Nivelles, meeting among other wounded a staff officer who ‘urged us to get on as the action was going badly’. They halted briefly at Houtain-le-Val to allow exhausted stragglers to catch up, and for the division’s twelve guns to get to the front of the column, and while stationary they checked their flints and fixed their bayonets.1 Ensign Edward Macready’s light company of the 30th, which had been left behind the night before and was racing to catch up its regiment, overtook the Guards at Houtain. When Guardsmen taunted them about their hurry, the Cambridgeshire light bobs offered in return, ‘Shall I carry your honour on my pack?’ and ‘It’s a cruel shame to send gentlemen’s sons on such business!’
Macready’s men were dour veterans, but he was seventeen and had been in the army for only a year, son of a struggling theatrical manager and younger brother of an actor who was just establishing a reputation on the stage at Bath. The next troops Macready met were Nassauers as they approached the Bois de Bossu, ‘over which was a heavy cloud of smoke, with birds in all directions flying and squealing about it’. A staff officer told the Cambridgeshires their regiment had only just entered the field and pointed where to find it, a round shot spattering them with dirt as they were talking. When they rounded the wood, the fury of the battle was revealed. Trotting forward, they met their colonel retiring wounded and he pointed the way the battalion had gone. Macready stumbled over the bodies of Gordon Highlanders as he passed La Bergerie in time to see the cuirassiers attack his regiment’s square.2 By then, he could hear firing in the wood as the light companies of the Guards advanced into it.
With deadlock in the centre, where French light troops were defending the line of Gémioncourt and its hedged stream with grim determination, Wellington now tried to make a breakthrough on the western flank. Peregrine Maitland’s 1st Foot Guards went into the Bois de Bossu, while the Coldstreams and Sir John Byng’s brigade remained behind it in reserve.
The light Guards companies went in first and others followed at intervals. In the wood, however, they quickly became confused. ‘Our regiment marched into the wood without the slightest suspicion, when we were attacked on all sides by the enemy who had lain in the ditches on each side of the wood,’ wrote one Guardsman, but in reality the Guards were shooting at each other and at any knots of troops who remained in the wood, few of which were French. There were still Brunswick Jägers there, lost and isolated Nassauers, and frightened fugitives of every nationality.
It was not until they reached the Gémioncourt stream that they met genuine opposition and the light companies, led by Alexander Fraser, Lord Saltoun, began pushing back French light infantry. As an officer wrote in his journal:
The men gave a cheer, and rushing in drove everything before them to the end of the wood, but the thickness of the underwood soon upset all order, and the French artillery made the place so hot that it was thought advisable to draw back to the stream, which was rather more out of range. A great many men were killed and wounded by the heads of the trees falling on them as cut off by cannon shot.3
A Guardsman recalled that the French ‘opened a heavy fire from their guns which were posted on a hill about half a mile distant, which threw the whole of our men into confusion, some running one way and some another’.
While Maitland’s brigade advanced through the wood, the light companies of Byng’s brigade under James Macdonell, supported by Bru
nswickers, pushed up the eastern side of it. As he moved stealthily forward, driving back French skirmishers, the number of bodies near La Bergerie told Guardsman Matthew Clay that there had been a fierce struggle there. Curiously, he spotted Arthur Gore’s body: ‘I particularly noticed a young officer of the 33rd Regiment lying amongst the slain, his bright scarlet coat and silver lace had attracted my attention when marching over his headless body. Most of the dead were English, Brunswickers and Highlanders; the majority were the latter.’ Further on, seeing French cavalry, the advancing British formed square, but were then pounded by the artillery. Clay provided a good description of the classic French use of cavalry and artillery in combination, and the simple British countermeasure of moving the square between volleys:
Being foiled by the timely movements of our square and ever obedient to the Commander, we escaped the destructive effects of the well-directed shells of the enemy, who, no doubt having observed our repeated escapes from the goring fire of their artillery, menaced us more daringly with their cavalry and prevented our taking fresh ground until their artillery had thrown their shells amongst us. By this means we had a more narrow escape than before, being compelled to remain longer in our position to resist the cavalry.
I, being one of the outward rank of the square, can testify as to the correct aim of the enemy, whose shells having fallen to the ground and exploded within a few paces of the rank in which I was kneeling.4