The Campaigns of Napoleon

by David G Chandler

  D’Erlon was almost within sight of the battlefield of Ligny when Ney’s new order reached him. He at once set out to comply with the latest instruction, no doubt reflecting “his not to reason way,” and reversed his column’s line of march to head back for Quatre Bras once more. However, he decided to leave General Durutte’s division and the three regiments of cavalry commanded by Jacquinot as a linking force; but as we have seen neither d’Erlon nor Durutte took the trouble to notify Imperial Headquarters of this decision in the normal way. As a result of this tragicomedy of order and counterorder, d’Erlon’s command spent the entire afternoon and evening marching and countermarching between the two fields of battle without firing a shot at either; and the full irony of the situation was, of course, that the Ist Corps’ effective intervention on either scene of action would have resulted in a major French victory.

  Meanwhile, at Quatre Bras, the fighting was reaching a new climax. About 4:15

  P.M. a mass of French lancers charged Kempt’s brigade. Although the British troops formed square as quickly as possible, both the 42nd and the 44th were severely mauled before the French lancers were driven off. Then Wellington received a new transfusion of men and guns in the form of Halkett’s brigade and several additional Allied units, and this reinforcement brought his total strength up to 26,000 men and 42 guns. In other words, the numerical advantage had at last swung in the “Iron Duke’s” favor.

  In growing desperation, Ney allowed his patience and his judgment to slip. Turning to General Kellermann, he said: “General, a supreme effort is necessary. That mass of hostile infantry must be overthrown. The fate of France is in your hands. Take your cavalry and ride them down. I will support you with all the cavalry I have.”24 Kellermann was astounded at the order; only one of his four brigades had reached the field, and Ney appeared to be ordering its certain destruction. He consequently asked him to repeat his order, but was brushed off with a curt “Partez! Mais partex done!” Against his own better judgment, Kellermann set out to obey. Instead of working up his advance from a walk to a gallop by the customary easy stages, he flung his cuirassiers forward hell-for-leather from the start. “I used great speed,” he later reported to Ney, “so as to prevent my men shirking, or even perceiving the full extent of the danger which awaited them.”25

  Against all the odds, Kellermann’s 5:00

  P.M. attack was almost successful. Halkett’s 69th Regiment was caught in line (owing to an unfortune intervention by the Prince of Orange who countermanded its colonel’s order to form square), was decimated and lost the King’s color. Sweeping on, the torrent of horsemen next fell upon the 33rd of Foot, and drove them in disorder into the wood. When the panting horses and jubilant troopers reined in, they found themselves actually in possession of the contested crossroads. Their gallantry earned many tributes from their foes. “The enemy’s lancers and cuirassiers are the finest fellows I ever saw,” recorded Colonel Frazer. “They made several bold charges and repeatedly advanced in the very teeth of our infantry.”26 However, sheer valor was not enough. Ney failed to support Kellermann’s death-defying ride with infantry or sufficient light cavalry, and all at once a concealed battery of guns manned by the King’s German Legion came into action at point-blank range, while the 30th and 73rd of Foot poured in a devastating musketry fire. In a moment jubilation changed to panic. Kellermann’s horse went down and his men turned and fled; only great presence of mind prevented their commander from being fatally hurt in the crush. As Captain Bourdon de Vatry recalled, Kellermann had the presence of mind “to cling to the bits of two of his cuirassiers’ horses and so avoid being trampled underfoot.”27

  By 6:30

  P.M. it was becoming clear to Ney that his chances of success were practically gone. But Napoleon’s string of messages to his harassed subordinate were not yet complete. Next to arrive was Major Baudus with the duplicate copy of Soult’s 3:15

  P.M. order and a verbal message re-demanding the immediate sending of d’Erlon’s corps to Ligny.

  It is evident that the Emperor never comprehended what Ney was up against, despite the report relayed by Colonel Forbin-Janson. “The marshal does not know what he is talking about,” snapped Napoleon. “I am fighting the whole of the Prussian army—Ney’s affair is only with Wellington’s advance guard. Go back and tell him he is at all costs to overthrow all opposition and to seize Quatre Bras.”28 In fact Forbin-Janson delivered this message only after the battle at Quatre Bras had ended, but doubtless the tone of Baudus’s earlier instruction was much the same. Ney again gave an impressive display of rage, and flung off to rally his infantry for another attack against Pack’s brigade. Like Marshal Vendôme at Oudenarde in 1708, he forgot his true position and responsibilities and plunged into the fighting like a grenadier. Control of the overall French battle inevitably collapsed, and when Wellington sent forward a large-scale counterattack at 6:30

  P.M., the French recoiled. New reinforcements (the last of the day) had now brought Wellington’s strength up to 36,000 men and 70 guns—a decided advantage over Ney and Reille—and this numerical superiority enabled the British commander in chief to send the British Guards to attack Bossu Wood on the right, Kempt and Harris against Piraumont on the left, and Halkett and Pack against Gemioncourt in the center. Thus, when fighting at last drew to a close at 9:00

  P.M., the Allies had regained almost all Perponcher’s original positions. So the hard-fought day at Quatre Bras ended in a draw.

  The Battle of quatre Bras, June 16, 1815: the last phase; a near contemporary map

  Casualties were heavy on both sides, but by no means so severe as those suffered at Ligny. The French lost some 4,000 casualties; the Allies about 4,800, including 2,400 British killed and wounded.

  Why had the result been so indecisive? Ney’s mistakes are largely to blame. First he had wasted the whole morning of the 16th in inactivity, when indubitable victory was within his grasp. Secondly, until 6:30

  P.M. and the tardy arrival of Napoleon’s 3 :30

  P.M. dispatch, Ney never fully realized that his sector had been relegated to secondary importance as far as Quatre Bras itself was concerned, and that consequently the detachment of d’Erlon to fight at Ligny and clinch the defeat of Blücher was his most vital concern. If only Forbin-Janson had remembered to hand over the original of the 3:15

  P.M. dispatch on his first visit! Thirdly—though this was in no way Ney’s fault—the effrontery (well-meaning though no doubt it was) of de la Bedoyère in overriding Ney’s orders without prior reference to the local commander in chief led to the chain reaction of events that resulted in Ist Corps being entirely wasted. In the report to Soult that Ney at last dictated at 10:00

  P.M., the Prince of the Moskowa placed all the blame for the day’s disappointments on the head of the unfortunate d’Erlon, who after all had only obeyed orders.

  I have attacked the English position at Quatre Bras with the greatest vigor; but an error of Count d’Erlon’s deprived me of a fine victory, for at the very moment when the 5th and 9th Divisions of General Reille’s corps had overthrown everything in front of them, the Ist Corps marched off to St. Amand to support His Majesty’s left; but the fatal thing was that this Corps, having countermarched to rejoin my wing, gave no useful assistance on either field.

  Prince Jerome’s division fought with great valor; His Royal Highness has been slightly wounded.

  Actually there have been engaged on our side here only 3 infantry divisions, a brigade of cuirassiers, and General Piré’s cavalry. The Count of Valmy delivered a fine charge. All have done their duty—except the Ist Corps.

  The enemy has lost heavily; we have captured some guns and a color.

  We have lost 2,000 killed and 4,000 wounded. I have called for reports from Generals Reille and d’Erlon, and will forward them to Your Excellency.29

  And so the bitter fighting of June 16, 1815, came to an end. In overall terms the advantage still lay with the French: Blücher had been trounced, Welli
ngton at least held. On the morrow, Napoleon should be in a position to reinforce Ney and obliterate Wellington’s army, in the meantime keeping the remnants of Blücher’s shaken army at bay with part of Grouchy’s wing. However, the 16th had clearly not been so successful as the Emperor had originally hoped. Probably the most serious errors on the French side that led to the waste of a uniquely favorable opportunity were the initial lack of energy on the part of both Napoleon and Ney, especially the latter, the prevalent “fog of war” and the very imperfect system of intercommunication between the various parts of the Armée du Nord. There was nothing new in this—all armies at the time were severely hampered by the difficulty of passing accurate information and orders to and fro with reasonable speed—but on the 16th the deficiencies of the Imperial general staff were clearly demonstrated. Ney’s intelligence might be small, but had Berthier been alive and functioning as Major Général,* there is little doubt that the Prince of the Moskowa would have been kept fully informed of his true role and brought on to the mark on time. But the invaluable “imperial chief clerk” was dead, and Soult was no adequate replacement. There, probably, lies the kernel of the confusion and disappointments of the 16th. But the ultimate responsibility lay with the Emperor. Both Soult and Ney were his appointments, and abler men were available. Thus the 16th ended in reasonable French success, although nothing had yet been decided as regards the final outcome of the campaign. Much depended on the showing the key French leaders would make on the morrow and on the reactions of their opponents.

  In the Imperial Army this rank belonged only to the Chief of Staff; in Allied Forces the rank usually denoted a Divisional Commander.

  91

  THE FINAL MOVES

  Unknown to Napoleon, critical Allied decisions were being reached and important moves being made throughout the night of the 16th-17th. The most significant of these were carried through by the Prussians. Immediately after dark, General Gneisenau, the Anglophobic chief of staff of the Prussian army, was faced with the need in his commander’s unexplained absence to decide the direction the retreat should take and the place where the reassembly of the shaken troops should recommence. Convincing himself that Wellington had let his Allies down badly, Gneisenau’s basic idea was to withdraw the army toward Liège. However, in the late evening of the 16th, with still not a trace of his commander in chief and a crowd of worried staff officers and corps commanders impatiently waiting for orders, Gneisenau was in no position to weigh delicately balanced pros and cons. The bald fact was that his army had already been driven back beyond the Nivelles-Namur road—the shortest route to Liège—and consequently it seemed advisable to fall back toward Louvain to the north for the initial regrouping. Various town names were mentioned, but some officers in the uncertain light of the campfire found difficulty in finding them on their maps—until Wavre was mentioned. As everybody could find that town on the map, it was arbitrarily selected as the initial rallying point. The officers hurried away to set their men onto the correct roads.

  Some hours later an ailing Field Marshal Blücher at last materialized at headquarters, currently established at Mellery some miles north of Tilly. After a liberal dosage of his favorite medicine—garlic and gin—the aged but dauntless warrior started to discuss the situation with Gneisenau. The latter was still in favor of an immediate retreat on Liège via Wavre and Louvain, leaving Wellington to fend for himself. This course of action Blücher, backed by General Grölmann, the quartermaster-general, rejected. For reasons of common prudence and above all as a matter of honor, he insisted that the Prussians should prepare to support Wellington’s forces. Thus from two circumstances—Gneisenau’s fortuitous selection of Wavre and Blücher’s determined loyalty to his ally, there sprang the decision to support Wellington at Mont-St.-Jean. Without this aid, Wellington would probably have been defeated if not utterly routed on the 18th.

  On the morning of the 17th, the French Emperor was in no hurry to bestir either himself or his army. A combination of false optimism and fatigue had led him the previous night to assume that everything was going according to his general plan. Blücher, he felt sure, was retiring in disorder toward Liège; Ney, he felt confident, must surely be in possession of the Quatre Bras position, and Wellington equally certainly falling back in haste to protect Brussels. So sure was Napoleon that his assumptions were correct, that he neglected to instruct Grouchy to send forward any sizeable force of cavalry to confirm the Prussian line of retreat until after daybreak, and did not even think it advisable to send an aide overnight to Quatre Bras to learn how Ney had fared. It was only very belatedly, therefore, that General Pajol was sent out with his cavalry to determine Blücher’s present position.*

  Then, at 7:00

  A.M., two pieces of information came to hand while the Emperor was partaking breakfast. First, General Pajol sent back an officer to report that masses of Prussians were streaming away down the Namur road toward Liège. This appeared to confirm the Emperor’s hypothesis concerning the Prussian line of retreat. In fact, however, all that Pajol had seen was a horde of Prussian deserters making good their escape. Secondly, General Flahaut arrived to say that Wellington was still in position at Quatre Bras. That was unexpected, but a quick glance at his maps showed Napoleon that the French reserve was placed within easy marching distance of the crossroads, should Wellington really decide to renew his stand there on the 17th. But this eventuality Napoleon thought extremely unlikely. So, instead of ordering Ney there and then to reopen the engagement at any cost and pin Wellington until Napoleon and the reserve could come up against his flank, Napoleon dictated an indecisive order which Soult duly transmitted to the Prince of the Moskowa. “The Emperor is going to the mill of Brye, where the highway leading from Namur to Quatre Bras passes. This makes it impossible that the English army should act in front of you. In such an eventuality, the Emperor would march directly upon it by the Quatre Bras road, while you would attack it from the front, and their army would be destroyed in an instant….

  “His Majesty’s wishes are that you should take up your position at Quatre Bras; but if this is impossible, send information at once with full details, and the Emperor will act there as I told you. If, on the contrary, there is only a rear guard, attack it and seize the position. It is necessary to end this operation today….”30

  Completely convinced that Wellington would not be so foolhardy as to hold on to Quatre Bras now that Blücher had been defeated and pushed away out of supporting distance (or so the Emperor thought), Napoleon halfheartedly ordered some cavalry patrols to ride forward and take a look at the Quatre Bras position, but could think of nothing better for VIth Corps than to order it to follow Pajol away to the right.

  In broad outline, three possible courses were now open to the French. They might continue to press after Blücher with their main strength (right wing and reserve) and force a second engagement to complete the work of the previous day, while Ney watched Wellington. Or, secondly, they could leave Grouchy with a skeleton force to pursue Blücher, and fall on Wellington with massively superior numbers. Or, finally, they might detach Grouchy with his full complement of 33,000 men to harry Blücher, and mass 69,000 troops against Wellington. It is possible that either of the first two courses would have served Napoleon better; but in the end he selected the third—being convinced that the Allies must be held apart even at the price of employing as much as a third of his strength to ensure that this was done.

  Even so, great results might have been obtained had not Napoleon insisted on wasting almost the whole of the morning in idleness. It appears that Grouchy was keen to set out on his pursuit of Blücher forthwith, but Napoleon insisted on his accompanying him on a tour round the battlefield of Ligny, during which the Emperor ruminated on the horrors of war. Then, at 11:00

  A.M., the Emperor suddenly awoke to reality. The arrival of Ney’s full report of the previous day’s fighting coincided with the return of the cavalry probes sent off toward Quatre Bras. Both sources of informa
tion confirmed that Wellington was still holding his ground. The Emperor realized that this was too good an opportunity to miss. In complete contrast to his earlier lethargy, Napoleon’s mind leaped to work. Grouchy was immediately to take the cavalry and both his corps and move on Gembloux, thereafter to keep in close contact with the Prussians and report their every move to the Emperor. Lobau and Drouot were forthwith to take their respective commands—the VIth Corps and the Guard—toward Marbais so as to threaten Wellington’s flank. Ney must also attack the Allies at once, and act in concert with the troops gathering at Marbais. But there was no retrieving five invaluable hours of wasted daylight, and before the day closed Napoleon was bitterly to regret his earlier inaction.

  Wellington, meanwhile, had passed the night at Genappe, but early on the 17th moved back to Quatre Bras. There, at 7:30

  A.M., he learned for the first time what had befallen Blücher the previous day. In marked contrast to Napoleon, the “Iron Duke” had insisted on sending out a cavalry patrol under a trusted staff officer during the very early hours to discover the outcome of Ligny. Now Colonel Gordon returned to reveal that the Prussians had sustained a heavy defeat. “Old Blücher has had a d—d good licking and gone back to Wavre,” the Duke remarked to Captain Bowles of the Coldstream Guards. “As he has gone back, we must go too. I suppose in England they will say we have been licked. I can’t help it; as they are gone back, we must go too.”31 Preliminary orders for the immediate evacuation of the wounded and the preparation of a general withdrawal were at once issued.