For four hours after his arrival at Charleroi, Napoleon, uneasy as to the whereabouts of his detachments, stood in idleness waiting for news. During this interval the first Prussian corps under Ziethen, retreating from Charleroi, reached Fleurus unmolested, all except a small body, which gathered at Gosselies, on the Brussels road, but was easily dispersed by Reille. It seemed as if the road to Quatre Bras was open, and when, at half-past four, Ney appeared, he was put in command of the left, with verbal instructions, as Napoleon asserted some years later, to seize that strategic point. Within these limits he was to act independently. If Quatre Bras were surprised and held, the second move could be attempted: the seizure of Sombreffe.
Since the highway between the two was the only line by which the allied armies could quickly unite, the possibility of attacking them separately would be assured even if the successive attacks should follow each other so closely as to be substantially one battle. Either Ney misunderstood, or Napoleon recorded what he intended to say, not what he actually said. Colonel Heymes, Ney’s chief of staff, declared that the Emperor’s final words were, “Go, and drive back the enemy”; the Emperor asserted that his orders to go and hold Quatre Bras were positive.
It is also a matter of dispute whether or not Napoleon had hoped, after seizing the bridges and crossing the Sambre, to complete his movement by surprising both Quatre Bras and Sombreffe on that same day, the 15th. Had he done so, Blucher might possibly have withdrawn to effect a junction with Wellington for the decisive conflict, and thus have thwarted Napoleon’s strategy; but it is not likely, for that move, as finally executed, was the work not of Blucher but of Gneisenau; at this stage of the campaign the Prussians would probably have retreated toward Namur.
Whatever may have been Napoleon’s intention, Ney hurried to Gosselies, stationed Reille to hold the place, and then, despatching one division to pursue the Prussians, and another, with Pire’s cavalry, toward Quatre Bras, put himself at the head of the cavalry of the guard to help in seizing this latter important point. But at seven his force, to their astonishment, was confronted by a strong body of Nassauers from Wellington’s army, who, having passed Quatre Bras, had seized Frasnes, a village two and a half miles in advance. These made no stand, but Ney, instead of proceeding immediately to attack Quatre Bras itself, left his men to hold the position at Frasnes, and hurried away to consult his superior.
For this he had excellent reasons: his staff was not yet organized, and d’Erlon’s corps was not within call; he was therefore too weak for the movement contemplated by his orders. At the same moment Napoleon, who had been in the saddle since three in the morning, and who had become convinced that the retreating Prussians would not halt at Fleurus, but would rejoin their main army, turned back to Charleroi, and, on reaching his quarters an hour later, flung himself in utter exhaustion upon his couch. In fact, he was in exquisite torture from the complication of urinary, hemorrhoidal, and other troubles which his long day’s ride had aggravated, and, as he declared at St. Helena—probably the truth—he had lost his assurance of final success. The day had been fairly successful, but at what a cost of energy! No one, he least of all, could feel that there had been any buoyancy in the movements or favoring fate in the combinations of his armies.
Throughout the day Blucher had displayed a fiery zeal. Since early in May he had had no serious consultation with Wellington, and in a general conversation held at that time there had been merely a vague understanding as to a union at some point south of Sombreffe. That town was accordingly selected by him for concentration, and in general his orders had been well executed. Why the bridges of Marchiennes and Chatelet were not undermined and blown up by the Prussians has never been explained. Moreover, the language of Gneisenau’s orders to Bulow being vague, the latter misinterpreted it, and his much-needed force was not brought in, as expected. Wellington’s conduct is a riddle. He displayed little anxiety and found time for social enjoyment as well as for the activities of military command in a supreme crisis.
About the middle of the afternoon he was informed, through the Prince of Orange, as to his enemy’s movements. With perfect calm, he commanded that his troops should be ready in their cantonments; at five he issued orders for the divisions to march with a view to concentration at Nivelles, the easternmost point which he intended to occupy; at ten, just as he was setting out for the noted ball which the Duchess of Richmond was giving on the eve of decision, he gave definite instructions for the concentration to begin.
These were his very first steps toward concentration, although 27 years later he made the assertion, supported only by his despatch to Bathurst of the 19th, that he had ordered the Anglo-allied army to concentrate to the left, as Blucher had ordered the Prussians to concentrate to the right. As a matter of fact, he was 24 hours behind Blucher in ordering his first defensive movements. This is not excused by the fact that his movement of concentration was completed somewhat earlier than Blucher’s. About 20 minutes after the Prince of Orange had reached the ball-room, Wellington sent him away quietly, and then, summoning the Duke of Richmond, who, it is doubtfully said, was to have command of the reserve when completely formed, he asked for a map. The two withdrew to an adjoining room. Wellington closed the door, and said, with an oath, “Napoleon has humbugged me.”
He then explained that he had ordered his army to concentrate at Quatre Bras, adding, “But we shall not stop him there; and if so, I must fight him here,” marking Waterloo with his thumb-nail on the map as he spoke. It was not until the next morning that he left for the front. Though Napoleon, on the evening of the 15th, had neither Quatre Bras nor Sombreffe, he held all the debatable ground; and if, next morning, he could seize the two towns simultaneously, the first move in his great game would be won. It seems as if he must risk everything to that end.
What passed between Napoleon and Ney from midnight until two in the morning is unknown. There is no evidence that the Emperor expressed serious dissatisfaction, although he may have been exasperated. He was not exactly in a position to give vent to his feelings. Whatever was the nature of their conversation, Ney was again at his post long before dawn, and not a soldier moved from Charleroi until nearly noon! It seems that Napoleon, or Ney, or both, must have been stubbornly convinced that Wellington could not concentrate within 24 hours. That Napoleon was not incapacitated by prostration is proved by his acts: about five he sent a preliminary order to Ney; very early, also, he took measures to complete Gerard’s crossing at Chatelet; and then, having considered at length the alternatives of pushing straight on to Brussels or of taking the course he did, he had reached a decision as early as seven o’clock.
It seems almost certain that he delayed chiefly to get his troops well in hand, partly to give them a much-needed rest. They had been seventeen hours afoot the previous day. Toward nine, believing that more of Ney’s command was assembled than was yet the case, he sent a fretful order commanding the marshal to seize Quatre Bras, and stating that a semi-independent command, under Grouchy, would stand at Sombreffe, while he himself would hold Gembloux. This done, he settled into apparent lethargy. To Grouchy he wrote that he intended to attack the enemy at Sombreffe, and “even at Gembloux,” and then to operate immediately with Ney “against the English.” His scheme was able, for if at either salient angle, Quatre Bras or Sombreffe, his presence should be necessary, he could, at need, quickly join either Ney or Grouchy; but his senses must have been dulled.
When informed that the enemy was at Fleurus in force, he hesitated long before resolving to move, being crippled by the inability of his left to move on Quatre Bras and behaving as if sure that the soldiers before him were only a single corps of Blucher’s army, which he could sweep away at his convenience. Meanwhile Vandamme had advanced. The Prussians withdrew from Fleurus, and deployed at the foot of the hillock on which the village of Ligny stands. When, about midday, Napoleon arrived at Fleurus, he had to experience the unpleasant surprise of finding a strong force ready to oppose him. 87 thousand men, all Blucher’s army, except Bulow’s corps and a portion of Ziethen’s which had been dispersed by the right wing and cavalry of the French near Gilly, were drawn up in battle array to oppose him. This was a loss to the foe of possibly two thousand men, a serious weakening at a fateful moment. But the Emperor was not yet ready to meet them, much as he had desired just such a contingency. He was not aware of the full strength of his enemy, but he was not sure of annihilating even those he believed to be in presence, for he had left ten thousand men at Charleroi, under Lobau, as a reserve, and the troops most available for strengthening his line were moving toward Quatre Bras.
By the independent action of their own generals a substantial force of several thousand Dutch-Belgians, virtually the whole of Perponcher’s division, was concentrated at Quatre Bras early that same morning. To be sure, Wellington had simultaneously determined on the same step, but it was taken long before his orders arrived. Indeed, he seems to have reached Quatre Bras before his orderly. Scarcely halting, he rapidly surveyed the situation and, leaving the troops in command of the Prince of Orange, rode away to visit Blucher. The two commanders met at about 1 o’clock in the windmill of Bry. They parted in the firm conviction that the mass of the French army was at Ligny, and with the verbal understanding that Wellington, if not himself attacked, would come to Blucher’s support.
On leaving, the English commander sharply criticized the tactical disposition of his ally’s army; but Blucher, with the fixed idea that, in any case, the duke was coming to his aid, determined to stand as he was. With similar obstinacy, Napoleon, still certain that what he had before him, although a great force, was only a screen for the retreat of the main army of the allies, now despatched an order (the second) for Ney to combine Reille, d’Erlon, and Kellermann in order to destroy whatever force was in opposition at Quatre Bras. This was at two. The French attack was opened at half-past two by Gerard and Vandamme; the resistance was such as to leave no doubt of the real Prussian strength. This being clear, Napoleon immediately wrote two despatches of the same tenor—one he sent to Ney by an aide, and one to d’Erlon by a subofficer of the guard.
The former (the third for the same destination) urged Ney to come for the sake of France; the other summoned d’Erlon from Ney’s command to the Emperor’s own immediate assistance: “You will save France, and cover yourself with glory,” were its closing words. This last order, the original of which has but lately been revealed, came nigh to ruining the whole day’s work. Before Wellington could return to Quatre Bras, Ney’s force was engaged with the Prince of Orange, and before three o’clock a fierce conflict was raging at that place. D’Erlon appears to have been in a frightful quandary as to his duty. He marched away toward St. Amand and in his dilemma detached his best division, that of Durutte, toward Bry. Neither superior nor subordinate did anything to the purpose. Ney was without the support of an entire corps and did not therefore literally obey his orders. Napoleon was unassisted by the wandering force and even confused by their unexpected appearance at a critical moment. They were mistaken at Ligny for enemies; d’Erlon’s vacillation had so detained them.
Blucher, who was determined to fight, come what would, had held in as long as his impatient temper permitted; but when no reinforcement from Wellington appeared, he first fumed, and then about six gave his fatal orders to prepare for the offensive. The nature of the ground was such as necessarily to weaken his center by the initial movements. Napoleon marked this at once, and summoned his guard in order to break through.
For a moment the Emperor hesitated; a mysterious force had appeared on the left; perhaps they were foes. But when once assured that they were d’Erlon’s men, he waited not an instant longer; at eight the crash came, and the Prussian line was shattered. Retreat was turned into a momentary rout so quickly that Blucher could not even exchange his wounded horse for another, and in the first mad rush he was so stunned and overwhelmed that his staff gave him up for lost. The few moments before he was found were the most precious for the allies of the whole campaign, since Gneisenau directed the flight northward on the line to Wavre, a route parallel with that on which Wellington, whatever his success, must now necessarily withdraw. This move, which abandoned the line to Namur, is Gneisenau’s title to fame.
The lines were quickly formed to carry it out, and the rest of the retrograde march went on with great steadiness. Napoleon did not wait until d’Erlon arrived and thereupon order an immediate, annihilating pursuit, but came to the conclusion that the Prussians were sufficiently disorganized, and would seek to reorganize on the old line to the eastward. They were thus, he thought, completely and finally cut off from Wellington. It was not until early next morning that he despatched Pajol, with his single cavalry corps, to follow the foe, for he was confirmed in his fatal conjecture by the false report of five thousand Prussians having been seen on the Namur road, and exerting themselves to hold it. The Prussians seen were merely a horde of stragglers. The truth was not known until next day.
Almost simultaneously with the battle of Ligny was fought that of Quatre Bras. At 11 Ney received orders outlining a general plan for the day; about half an hour later came the specific command to unite the forces of d’Erlon, Reille, and Kellermann, and carry Quatre Bras; at five arrived in hot haste the messenger with the third order. At 2 o’clock there were not quite seven thousand Anglo-Belgians in Quatre Bras, but, successive bodies arriving in swift succession, by half-past six o’clock there were over 30 thousand.
At 2 Ney had 17 thousand men, and though he sought to recall d’Erlon, yet, owing to the withdrawal of Durutte, and to d’Erlon’s indecision, he had at half-past six not more than twenty thousand. Not one of d’Erlon’s men had reached him: Girard’s division of Reille’s corps was with Vandamme before St. Amand. Gerard’s corps had been kept at Ligny. Had he advanced on the position the previous evening, or had he attacked between eleven and two on the sixteenth, the event of the campaign might have been different from what it was. But if he really believed, as Heymes afterward asseverated was the case, that his orders were merely to push and hold the enemy, then his conduct throughout was gallant and correct.
The weight of evidence favours the claim of Napoleon that the marshal was perverse in his refusal to take Quatre Bras according to verbal orders. Whatever the truth, the behaviour of Ney’s men was admirable when they did advance, but they were forced back to Frasnes before superior numbers.
Next morning Wellington was conversing with Colonel Bowles when a staff officer drew up, his horse flecked with foam, and whispered the news of Ligny. Without a change of countenance, the commander said to his companion: “Old Blucher has had a—good licking, and gone back to Wavre, eighteen miles. 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 have gone back, we must go, too.” Accordingly, he issued his orders, and his army began to march at 10.
On the whole, therefore, the events of June 16th seemed favourable to Napoleon, since, fighting at two points with inferior numbers, he had been victorious at one, and had thereby secured the other also. We, of course, know that by Gneisenau’s move this apparent success was rendered nugatory. It is useless to surmise what would have happened had Bulow been with Blucher, and d’Erlon and Lobau with Napoleon, or if either of these possibilities had happened without the other; as it was, Napoleon’s strategy gained both Quatre Bras and Sombreffe.
The Prussians had lost twenty thousand men, missing, wounded, and dead, and it required vigorous treatment to restore Blucher. But all night the army marched, and in the morning Bulow, having found his direction, was near Beauderet and Sauvinieres, within easy reach at Gembloux. The retreat continued throughout the seventeenth. It was a move of the greatest daring, since the line was over a broken country almost destitute of roads, and, the old base of supplies having been abandoned, the men had to starve until Gneisenau could secure another by way of Louvain. The army bore its hardships well; there was no straggling or demoralization, and the splendor of success makes doubly brilliant the move which confounded Napoleon’s plans.
Never dreaming at first that his foe had withdrawn elsewhere than along his natural line of supply toward Liege, the Emperor considered the separation of the two allies as complete, and after carefully deliberating throughout the long interval he allowed for collecting his troops and giving them a thorough rest, he determined to wheel, join Ney, and attack Wellington, wherever found. It was serious and inexplicable slackness which he showed in not taking effective measures to determine immediately where his defeated enemy was. Being, nevertheless, well aware of the Prussian resources and character, he made up his mind to detail Grouchy, with thirty-three thousand men, for the purpose of scouring the country toward Liege at least as far as Namur. Then, to provide for what he considered a possible contingency—namely, that which had actually occurred—this adjunct army was to turn north, and hasten to Gembloux, in order to assure absolutely the isolation of Wellington; in any and every case the general was to keep his communications with Napoleon open.
It was 8 in the morning of the 17th when Napoleon issued from his quarters at Fleurus. Flahaut was waiting for the reply to an inquiry which he had just brought from Ney concerning the details of Ligny. The Emperor at once dictated a despatch, the most famous in the controversial literature of Waterloo, in which his own achievements were told and Ney was blamed for the disconnected action of his subordinates the previous day; in particular the marshal was instructed to take position at Quatre Bras, “as you were ordered,” and d’Erlon was criticized for his failure to move on St. Amand. The wording of the hastily scribbled order to the latter he had probably forgotten; it was: “Betake yourself …to the heights of Ligny, pounce on St. Amand—or the reverse; I am not quite sure which.”
Further, the Emperor now declared that, had Ney kept d’Erlon and Reille together, not an Englishman would have escaped, and that, had d’Erlon obeyed his orders, the Prussian army would have been destroyed. In case it were still impossible to seize Quatre Bras with the force at hand, Napoleon would himself move thither. Then, entering a carriage, he drove to Ligny; Lobau was ordered at once to Marbais, on the road to Quatre Bras. After haranguing the troops and prisoners, Napoleon was informed, about noon, that Wellington was still in position. At once a second order was sent, commanding Ney to attack; the Emperor, it ran, was already under way to Marbais.
This was not quite true, for while he was giving detailed instructions to Grouchy before parting, that general had seemed uneasy, and had finally pleaded that it would be impossible further to disorganize the Prussians, since they had so long a start. These scruples were peremptorily put down, and the chief parted amicably from his subordinate, but with a sense of uneasiness, lest he had left nice and difficult work in unwilling hands. Scouts soon overtook him, and expressed doubt as to the Prussians having gone to Namur. In case they had not, Grouchy must act cautiously. Accordingly, positive instructions were then dictated to Bertrand, and sent to Grouchy, whose movements were now doubly important. The latter general was to reconnoiter toward Namur, but march direct to Gembloux; his chief task was to discover whether Blucher was seeking to join Wellington or not. For the rest, he was free to act on his own discretion.
Napoleon then entered his carriage, and drove to Quatre Bras. Mounting his horse, he led the pursuit of the English rear. Indignant that Ney had lost the opportunity to overwhelm at least a portion of Wellington’s force, he exclaimed to d’Erlon, “They have ruined France!” But he said nothing to Ney himself. So active and energetic was the Emperor that he actually exposed himself to the artillery fire with which the English gunners sought to retard the pursuit. It was not an easy matter for Grouchy to carry out his instructions; at 2 o’clock began a steady downpour, which lasted well into the next morning; the roads to Gembloux were lanes, and the rain turned them into sticky mud. Not until that night was Grouchy’s command assembled at Gembloux; it was 10 o’clock before the leader gained an inkling of where the Prussians were, and then, though uncertain as to their exact movements, he immediately despatched a letter, received by Napoleon at two in the morning. The marshal explained that he would pursue as far as Wavre, so as to cut off Blucher from Brussels, and to separate him from Wellington. Some hours later, about 7 in the morning, when finally convinced that the Prussians were retiring on Wavre, Grouchy set his columns in motion in a straight line toward that place by Sart-a-Walhain, choosing, with very poor judgment, to advance by the right bank of the Dyle, and thus jeopardizing the precious connections he had been repeatedly and urgently instructed to keep open.
