LIGNY AND QUATRE BRAS
A less determined optimist than Napoleon might well have hoped for
success over the forces of the new coalition. True, they seemed
overwhelmingly great. But many a coalition had crumbled away under the
alchemy of his statecraft; and the jealousies that had raged at the
Congress of Vienna inspired the hope that Austria, and perhaps
England, might speedily be detached from their present allies. Strange
as it seems to us, the French people opined that Napoleon's escape
from Elba was due to the connivance of the British Government; and
Captain Mercer states that, even at Waterloo, many of the French clung
to the belief that the British resistance would be a matter of form.
Napoleon cherished no such illusion: but he certainly hoped to
surprise the British and Prussian forces in Belgium, and to sever at
one blow an alliance which he judged to be ill cemented. Thereafter he
would separate Austria from Russia, a task that was certainly possible
if victory crowned the French eagles.[472]
His military position was far stronger than it had been since the
Moscow campaign. The loss of Germany and Spain had really added to his
power. No longer were his veterans shut up in the fortresses of Europe
from Danzig to Antwerp, from Hamburg to Ragusa; and the Peninsular War
no longer engulfed great armies of his choicest troops. In the eyes of
Frenchmen he was not beaten in 1814; he was only tripped up by a
traitor when on the point of crushing his foes. And, now that peace
had brought back garrisons and prisoners of war, as many as 180,000
well-trained troops were ranged under the imperial eagles. He hoped by
the end of June to have half a million of devoted soldiers ready for
the field.
The difficulties that beset him were enough to daunt any mind but his.
Some of the most experienced Marshals were no longer at his side. St.
Cyr, Macdonald, Oudinot, Victor, Marmont, and Augereau remained true
to Louis XVIII. Berthier, on hearing of Napoleon's return from Elba,
forthwith retired into Germany, and, in a fit of frenzy, threw himself
from the window of a house in Bamberg while a Russian corps was
passing through that town. Junot had lost his reason. Masséna and
Moncey were too old for campaigning; Mortier fell ill before the first
shots were fired. Worst of all, the unending task of army organization
detained Davoust at Paris. Certainly he worked wonders there; but, as
in 1813 and 1814, Napoleon had cause to regret the absence of a
lieutenant equally remarkable for his acuteness of perception and
doggedness of purpose, for a good fortune that rarely failed, and a
devotion that never faltered. Doubtless it was this last priceless
quality, as well as his organizing gifts, that marked him out as the
ideal Minister of War and Governor of Paris. Besides him he left a
Council charged with the government during his absence, composed of
Princes Joseph and Lucien and the Ministers.
But, though the French army of 1815 lacked some of the names far famed
in story, numbers of zealous and able officers were ready to take
their place. The first and second corps were respectively assigned to
Drouet, Count d'Erlon, and Reille, the former of whom was the son of
the postmaster of Varennes, who stopped Louis XVI.'s flight. Vandamme
commanded the third corps; Gérard, the fourth; Rapp, the fifth; while
the sixth fell to Mouton, better known as Count Lobau. Rapp's corps
was charged with the defence of Alsace; other forces, led by Brune,
Decaen, and Clausel, protected the southern borders, while Suchet
guarded the Alps; but the rest of these corps were gradually drawn
together towards the north of France, and the addition of the Guard,
20,800 strong, brought the total of this army to 125,000 men.
There was one post which the Emperor found it most difficult to fill,
that of Chief of the Staff. There the loss of Berthier was
irreparable. While lacking powers of initiative, he had the faculty of
lucidly and quickly drafting Napoleon's orders, which insures the
smooth working of the military machine. Who should succeed this
skilful and methodical officer? After long hesitation Napoleon chose
Soult. In a military sense the choice was excellent. The Duke of
Dalmatia had a glorious military record; in his nature activity was
blended with caution, ardour with method; but he had little experience
of the special duties now required of him; and his orders were neither
drafted so clearly nor transmitted so promptly as those of Berthier.
The concentration of this great force proceeded with surprising
swiftness; and, in order to lull his foes into confidence, the Emperor
delayed his departure from Paris to the last moment possible. As dawn
was flushing the eastern sky, on June 12th, he left his couch, after
four hours' sleep, entered his landau, and speedily left his
slumbering capital behind. In twelve hours he was at Laon. There he
found that Grouchy's four cavalry brigades were not sharing in the
general advance owing to Soult's neglect to send the necessary orders.
The horsemen were at once hurried on, several regiments covering
twenty leagues at a stretch and exhausting their steeds. On the 14th
the army was well in hand around Beaumont, within striking distance of
the Prussian vanguard, from which it was separated by a screen of
dense woods. There the Emperor mounted his charger and rode along the
ranks, raising such a storm of cheers that he vainly called out: "Not
so loud, my children, the enemy will hear you." There, too, on this
anniversary of Marengo and Friedland, he inspired his men by a
stirring appeal on behalf of the independence of Poles, Italians, the
smaller German States, and, above all, of France herself. "For every
Frenchman of spirit the time has come to conquer or die."
What, meanwhile, was the position of the allies? An Austro-Sardinian
force threatened the south-east of France. Mighty armies of 170,000
Russians and 250,000 Austrians were rolling slowly on towards Lorraine
and Alsace respectively; 120,000 Prussians, under Blücher, were
cantoned between Liège and Charleroi; while Wellington's composite
array of British, German, and Dutch-Belgian troops, about 100,000
strong, lay between Brussels and Mons.[473] The original plan of these
two famous leaders was to push on rapidly into France; but the
cautious influences of the Military Council sitting at Vienna
prevailed, and it was finally decided not to open the campaign until
the Austrians and Russians should approach the frontiers of France.
Even as late as June 15th we find Wellington writing to the Czar in
terms that assume a co-operation of all the allies in simultaneous
moves towards Paris--movements which Schwarzenberg had led him to
expect _would begin about the 20th of June_.[474]
From this prolonged and methodical warfare Europe was saved by
Napoleon's vigorous offensive. His political instincts impelled him to
strike at Brussels, where he hoped that the populace would declare for
union with France and severance from the detested Dutch. In this war
he must not only conquer armies, he must win over public opinion; and
how could he gain it so well as in the guise of a popular liberator?
But there were other advantages to be gained in Belgium. By flinging
himself on Wellington and the Prussians, and driving them asunder, he
would compel Louis XVIII. to another undignified flight; and he would
disorganize the best prepared armies of his foes, and gain the
material resources of the Low Countries. He seems even to have
cherished the hope that a victory over Wellington would dispirit the
British Government, unseat the Ministry, and install in power the
peace-loving Whigs.
And this victory was almost within his grasp. While his host drew near
to the Prussian outposts south of Charleroi and Thuin, the allies were
still spread out in cantonments that extended over one hundred miles,
namely, from Liège on Blücher's left to Audenarde on Wellington's
right. This wide dispersion of troops, when an enterprising foe was
known to be almost within striking distance, has been generally
condemned. Thus General Kennedy, in his admirable description of
Waterloo, admits that there was an "absurd extension" of the
cantonments. Wellington, however, was bound to wait and to watch the
three good high-roads, by any one of which Napoleon might advance,
namely, those of Tournay, Mons, and Charleroi. The Duke had other
causes for extending his lines far to the west: he desired to cover
the roads from Ostend, whence he was expecting reinforcements, and to
stretch a protecting wing over the King of France at Ghent.
There are many proofs, however, that Wellington was surprised by
Napoleon. The narratives of Sir Hussey Vivian and Captain Mercer show
that the final orders for our advance were carried out with a haste
and flurry that would not have happened if the army had been well in
hand, or if Wellington had been fully informed of Napoleon's latest
moves.[475] There is a wild story that the Duke was duped by Fouché,
on whom he was relying for news from Paris. But it seems far more
likely that he was misled by the tidings sent to Louis XVIII. at Ghent
by zealous royalists in France, the general purport of which was that
Napoleon _would wage a defensive campaign_.[476] On the 13th June,
Wellington wrote: "I have accounts from Paris of the 10th, on which
day he [Bonaparte] was still there; and I judge from his speech to
the Legislature that his departure was not likely to be immediate. I
think we are now too strong for him here." And, in later years, he
told Earl Stanhope that Napoleon "was certainly wrong in attacking at
all"; for the allied armies must soon have been in great straits for
want of food if they had advanced into France, exhausted as she was
by the campaign of 1814. "But," he added, "the fact is, Bonaparte
never in his life had patience for a defensive war."
[Illustration: PLAN OF THE WATERLOO
CAMPAIGN]
The Duke's forces would, at the outset of the campaign, have been in
less danger, if the leaders at the Prussian outposts, Pirch II. and
Dörnberg of the King's German Legion, had warned him of the enemy's
massing near the Sambre early on the 15th. By some mischance this was
not done; and our leader only heard from Hardinge, at the Prussian
headquarters, that the enemy seemed about to begin the offensive. He
therefore waited for more definite news before concentrating upon any
one line.
About 6 p.m. on the 15th he ordered his divisions and brigades to
concentrate at Vilvorde, Brussels, Ninove, Grammont, Ath,
Braine-le-Comte, Hal, and Nivelles--the first four of which were
somewhat remote, while the others were chosen with a view to defending
the roads leading northwards from Mons. Not a single British brigade
was posted on the Waterloo-Charleroi road, which was at that time
guarded only by a Dutch-Belgian division, a fact which supports Mr.
Ropes's contention that no definite plan of co-operation had been
formed by the allied leaders. Or, if there was one, the Duke certainly
refused to act upon it until he had satisfied himself that the chief
attack was not by way of Mons or Ath. More definite news reached
Brussels near midnight of the 15th, whereupon he gave a general left
turn to his advance, namely, _towards Nivelles_.
Clausewitz maintains that he should already have removed his
headquarters to Nivelles; had he done so and hurried up all available
troops towards the Soignies-Quatre Bras line, his Waterloo fame would
certainly have gained in solidity. A dash of romance was added by his
attending the Duchess of Richmond's ball at Brussels on the night of
the 15th-16th; lovers of the picturesque will always linger over the
scene that followed with its "hurrying to and fro and tremblings of
distress"; but the more prosaic inquirer may doubt whether Wellington
should not then have been more to the front, feeling every throb of
Bellona's pulse.[477]
Blücher's army, comprising 90,000 men, also covered a great stretch of
country. The first corps, that of Ziethen, held the bridges of the
Sambre at and near Charleroi; but the corps of Pirch I. and Thielmann
were at Namur and Ciney; while, owing to a lack of stringency in the
orders sent by Gneisenau, chief of the staff, to Bülow, his corps of
32,000 men was still at Liège. Early on the 15th, Pirch I. and
Thielmann began hastily to advance towards Sombref; and Ziethen, with
32,000 men, prepared to hold the line of the Sambre as long as
possible. His chief of staff, General Reiche, states that one-third of
the Prussians were new troops, drafted in from the Landwehr; but all
the corps gloried in their veteran Field-Marshal, and were eager to
fight.
Such, then, was the general position. Wellington was unaware of his
danger; Blücher was straining every nerve to get his army together;
while 32,000 Prussians were exposed to the attack of nearly four times
their number. It is clear that, had all gone well with the French
advance, the fortunes of Wellington and Blücher must have been
desperate. But, though the concentration of 125,000 French troops near
Beaumont and Maubeuge had been effected with masterly skill (except
that Gérard's and D'Erlon's corps were late), the final moves did not
work quite smoothly. An accident to the officer who was to order
Vandamme's corps to march at 2 a.m. on the 15th caused a long delay to
that eager fighter.[478] The 4th corps, that of Gérard, was also
disturbed and delayed by an untoward event. General Bourmont, whose
old Vendéan opinions seemed to have melted away completely before the
sun of Napoleon's glory, rewarded his master by deserting with several
officers to the Prussians, very early on that morning. The incident
was really of far less importance than is assigned to it in the St.
Helena Memoirs, which falsely ascribe it to the 14th: the Prussians
were already on the _qui vive_ before Bourmont's desertion; but it
clogged the advance of Gérard's corps and fostered distrust among the
rank and file. When, on the morrow, Gérard rejoined his chief at the
mill of Fleurus, the latter reminded him that he had answered for
Bourmont's fidelity with his own head; and, on the general protesting
that he had seen Bourmont fight with the utmost devotion, Napoleon
replied: "Bah! A man who has been a white will never become a blue:
and a blue will never be a white." Significant words, that show the
Emperor's belief in the ineradicable strength of instinct and early
training.[479]
Despite these two mishaps, the French on the morning of the 15th
succeeded in driving Ziethen's men from the banks of the Sambre about
Thuin, while Napoleon in person broke through their line at Charleroi.
After suffering rather severely, the defenders fell back on Gilly,
whither Napoleon and his main force followed them; while the left wing
of the French advance, now intrusted to Ney, was swung forward against
the all-important position of Quatre Bras.
We here approach one of the knotty questions of the campaign. Why did
not Ney occupy the cross-roads in force on the evening of the 15th? We
may note first that not till the 11th had Napoleon thought fit to
summon Ney to the army, so that the Marshal did not come up till the
afternoon of this very day. He at once had an interview with the
Emperor, who, according to General Gourgaud, gave the Marshal verbal
orders to take command of the corps of Reille and D'Erlon, to push on
northwards, take up a position at Quatre Bras, and throw out advanced
posts beyond on the Brussels and Namur roads; but it seems unlikely
that the Emperor would have given one of the most venturesome of his
Marshals an absolute order to push on so far in advance, unless the
French right wing had driven the Prussians back beyond the Sombref
position. Otherwise, Ney would have been dangerously far in advance of
the main body and exposed to blows either from the Prussians or the
British.
However this may be, Ney certainly felt insecure, and did not push on
with his wonted dash; while, fortunately for the allies, an officer
was at hand Prince Bernard of Saxe-Weimar, who saw the need of holding
Quatre Bras at all costs.[480] The young leader imposed on the foe by
making the most of his men--they were but 4,500 all told, and had only
ten bullets apiece--and he succeeded. For once, Ney was prudent to a
fault, and did not push home the attack. In his excuse it may be said
that the men of Reille's corps, on whom he had to rely--for D'Erlon's
corps was still far to the rear--had been marching and fighting ever
since dawn, and were too weary for another battle. Moreover, the roar
of cannon on the south-east warned him that the right wing of the
French advance was hotly engaged between Gilly and Fleurus; until it
beat back the Prussians, his own position was dangerously "in the
air"; and, as but two hours of daylight remained, he drew back on
Frasnes. He is also said to have sent word to the Emperor that "he was
occupying Quatre Bras by an advanced guard, and that his main body was
close behind." If he deceived his chief by any such report, he
deserves the severest censure; but the words quoted above were written
later at St. Helena by General Gourgaud, when Ney had come to figure
as the scapegoat of the campaign.[481] Ney sent in a report on that
evening; but it has been lost.[482] Judging from the orders issued by
Napoleon and Soult early on the 16th, there was much uncertainty as to
Ney's position. The Emperor's letter bids him post his first division
"two leagues in front of les Quatres Chemins"; but Soult's letter to
Grouchy states that Ney is ordered _to advance to the cross-roads_.
Confusion was to be expected from the circumstances of the case. Ney
did not know his staff-officers, and he hastily took command of the
left wing when in the midst of operations whose success, as Janin
points out, largely depended on that of the right. He therefore played
a cautious game, when, as we now know, caution meant failure and
daring spelt safety.
Meanwhile the French right wing, of which Grouchy had received the
command, though Napoleon in person was its moving force, had been
pressing the Prussians hard near Gilly. Yet here, too, the assailants
were weakened by the absence of the corps of Vandamme and Gérard.
Irritated by Ziethen's skilful withdrawal, the Emperor at last
launched his cavalry at the Prussian rear battalions, four of which
were severely handled before they reached the covert of a wood. With
the loss, on the whole, of nearly 2,000 men, the Prussians fell back
towards Ligny, while Grouchy's vanguard bivouacked near the village of
Fleurus.
Napoleon might well be satisfied with the work done on June 15th: he
rode back to his headquarters at Charleroi, "exhausted with fatigue,"
after spending wellnigh eighteen hours in the saddle, but confident
that he had sundered the allies. This was certainly his aim now, as it
had been in the campaign of 1796. After two decisive blows at their
points of connection, he purposed driving them on divergent lines of
retreat, just as he had driven the Austrians and Sardinians down the
roads that bifurcate near Montenotte. True, there were in Belgium no
mountain spurs to prevent their reunion; but the roads on which they
were operating were far more widely divergent.[483] He also thought
lightly of Wellington and Blücher. The former he had pronounced
"incapable and unwise"; as for Blücher, he told Campbell at Elba that
he was "no general"; but that he admired the pluck with which "the old
devil" came on again after a thrashing.
Unclouded confidence is seen in every phrase of the letters that he
penned at Charleroi early on the 16th. He informs Ney that he intends
soon to attack the Prussians at Sombref, _if he finds them there_, to
clear the road as far as Gembloux, and then to decide on his further
actions as the case demands. Meanwhile Ney is to sweep the road in
front of Quatre Bras, placing his first division two leagues beyond
that position, if it seemed desirable, with a view to marching on
Brussels during the night with his whole force of about 50,000 men.
The Guard is to be kept in reserve as much as possible, so as to
support either Napoleon on the Gembloux road, or Ney on the Brussels
road; and "if any skirmish takes place with the English, it is
preferable that the work should fall on the Line rather than on the
Guard." As for the Prussian resistance, Napoleon rated it almost as
lightly as that of the English; for he regards it as probable that he
will in the evening _march on Brussels with his Guard_.
While he pictured his enemies hopelessly scattered or in retreat, they
were beginning to muster at the very points which he believed to be
within his grasp. At 11 a.m. only Ziethen's corps, now but 28,000
strong, was in position at Sombref, but the corps of Pirch I. and
Thielmann came up shortly after midday. Had Napoleon pushed on early
on the 16th, he must easily have gained the Ligny-Sombref position.
What, then, caused the delay in the French attack? It can be traced to
the slowness of Gérard's advance, to the Emperor's misconception of
the situation, and to his despatch to Grouchy.
[Illustration: BATTLE OF LIGNY.]
In this he reckoned the Prussians at
40,000 men, and ordered Grouchy to repair with the French right wing
to Sombref.
" ... I shall be at Fleurus between 10 and 11 a.m.: I shall
proceed to Sombref, leaving my Guard, both infantry and cavalry,
at Fleurus: I would not take it to Sombref, unless it should be
necessary. If the enemy is at Sombref, I mean to attack him: I
mean to attack him even at Gembloux, and to gain this position
also, my aim being, after having known about these two positions,
to set out to-night, and to operate with my left wing, under the
command of Marshal Ney, against the English."
The Emperor did not reach Fleurus until close on 11 a.m., and was
undoubtedly taken aback to find Grouchy still there, held in check by
the enemy strongly posted around Ligny. Grouchy has been blamed for
not having already attacked them; but surely his orders bound him to
wait for the Emperor before giving battle: besides, the corps of
Gérard, which had been assigned to him was still far away in the rear
towards Châtelet.[484] The absence of Gérard, and the uncertainty as
to the enemy's aims, annoyed the Emperor. He mounted the windmill
situated on the outskirts of Fleurus to survey the enemy's position.
It was a fair scene that lay before him. Straight in front ran the
high-road which joined the Namur-Nivelles _chaussée_, some six miles
away to the north-east. On either side stretched cornfields, whose
richness bore witness alike to the toils and the warlike passions of
mankind. Further ahead might be seen the dark lines of the enemy
ranged along slopes that formed an irregular amphitheatre, dotted with
the villages of Bry and Sombref. In the middle distance, from out a
hollow that lay concealed, rose the steeples and a few of the higher
roofs of Ligny. Further to the left and on higher ground lay St.
Amand, with its outlying hamlets. All was bathed in the shimmering,
sultry heat of midsummer, the harbinger, as it proved, of a violent
thunderstorm. The Prussian position was really stronger than it
seemed. Napoleon could not fully see either the osier beds that
fringed the Ligny brook, or its steep banks, or the many strong
buildings of Ligny itself. He saw the Prussians on the slope behind
the village, and was at first puzzled by their exposed position. "The
old fox keeps to earth," he was heard to mutter. And so he waited
until matters should clear up, and Gérard's arrival should give him
strength to compass Blücher's utter overthrow while in the act of
stretching a feeler towards Wellington. From the time when the Emperor
came on the scene to the first swell of the battle's roar, there was a
space of more than four hours.
This delay was doubly precious to the allies. It gave Blücher time to
bring up the corps of Pirch I. and Thielmann under cover of the high
ground near Sombref, thereby raising his total force to about 87,000
men; and it enabled the two allied commanders to meet and hastily
confer on the situation. Wellington had left Brussels that morning at
8 o'clock, and thanks to Ney's inaction, was able to reach the crest
south of Quatre Bras a little after 10, long before the enemy showed
any signs of life. There he penned a note to Blücher, asking for news
from him before deciding on his operations for the day.[485] He then
galloped over to the windmill of Bussy to meet Blücher.
It was an anxious meeting; the heads of the advancing French columns
were already in sight; and the Duke saw with dismay the position of
the Prussians on a slope that must expose them to the full force of
Napoleon's cannon--or, as he whispered to Hardinge, "they will be
damnably mauled if they fight here."[486] In more decorous terms, but
to the same effect, he warned Gneisenau, and said nothing to encourage
him to hold fast to his position. Neither did he lead him to expect
aid from Quatre Bras. The utmost that Gneisenau could get from him was
the promise, "Well! I will come provided I am not attacked myself."
Did these words induce the Prussians to accept battle at Ligny? It is
impossible to think so. Everything tends to show that Blücher had
determined to fight there. The risk was great; for, as we learn from
General Reiche, the position was seen to admit of no vigorous
offensive blows against the French. But fortune smiled on the veteran
Field-Marshal, and averted what might have been an irretrievable
disaster.[487]
It would seem that the inequalities of the ground hid the strength of
Pirch I. and Thielmann; for Napoleon still believed that he had ranged
against him at Ligny only a single corps. At 2 p.m. Soult informed Ney
that the enemy had united a _corps_ between Sombref and Bry, and that
in half an hour Grouchy would attack it. Ney was therefore to beat
back the foes at Quatre-Bras, and then turn to envelop the Prussians.
_But if these were driven in first, the Emperor would move towards Ney
to hasten his operations_.[488] Not until the battle was about to
begin does the Emperor seem to have realized that he was in presence
of superior forces.[489] But after 2 p.m. their masses drew down over
the slopes of Bry and Sombref, their foremost troops held the villages
of Ligny and St. Amand, while their left crowned the ridge of
Tongrines. Napoleon reformed his lines, which had hitherto been at
right angles to the main road through Fleurus. Vandamme's corps moved
off towards St. Amand; and Gérard, after ranging his corps parallel to
that road, began to descend towards Ligny, Grouchy meanwhile
marshalling the cavalry to protect their flank and rear. Behind all
stood the imposing mass of the Imperial Guard on the rising ground
near Fleurus.
The fiercest shock of battle fell upon the corps of Vandamme and
Gérard. Three times were Gérard's men driven back by the volleys of
the Prussians holding Ligny. But the French cannon open fire with
terrific effect. Roofs crumble away, and buildings burst into flame.
Once more the French rush to the onset, and a furious hand-to-hand
scuffle ensues. Half stifled by heat, smoke, and dust, the rival
nations fight on, until the defenders give way and fall back on the
further part of the village behind the brook; but, when reinforced,
they rally as fiercely as ever, and drive the French over its banks;
lane, garden, and attic once more become the scene of struggles where
no man thinks of giving or taking quarter.
Higher up the stream, at St. Amand, Vandamme's troops fared no better;
for Blücher steadily fed that part of his array. In so doing, however,
he weakened his reserves behind Ligny, thereby unwittingly favouring
Napoleon's design of breaking the Prussian centre, and placing its
wreckage and the whole of their right wing between two fires. The
Emperor expected that, by 6 o'clock, Ney would have driven back the
Anglo-Dutch forces, and would be ready to envelop the Prussian right.
That was the purport of Soult's despatch of 3.15 p.m. to Ney: "This
army [the Prussian] is lost, if you act with vigour. The fate of
France is in your hands."
But at 5.30, when part of the Imperial Guard was about to strengthen
Gérard for the decisive blow at the Prussian centre, Vandamme sent
word that a hostile force of some twenty or thirty thousand men was
marching towards Fleurus. This strange apparition not only unsteadied
the French left: it greatly perplexed the Emperor. As he had ordered
first Ney and then D'Erlon to march, not on Fleurus, but against the
rear of the Prussian right wing, he seems to have concluded that this
new force must be that of Wellington about to deal the like deadly
blow against the French rear.[490] Accordingly he checked the advance
of the Guard until the riddle could be solved. After the loss of
nearly two hours it was solved by an aide-de-camp, who found that the
force was D'Erlon's, and that it had retired.
Meanwhile the battle had raged with scarcely a pause, the French guns
working frightful havoc among the dense masses on the opposite slope.
And yet, by withdrawing troops to his right, Blücher had for a time
overborne Vandamme's corps and part of the Young Guard, unconscious
that his insistence on this side jeopardized the whole Prussian army.
His great adversary had long marked the immense extension of its
concave front, the massing of its troops against St. Amand, and the
remoteness of its left wing, which Grouchy's horsemen still held in
check; and he now planned that, while Blücher assailed St. Amand and
its hamlets, the Imperial Guard should crush the Prussian centre at
Ligny, thrust its fragments back towards St. Amand, and finally shiver
the greater part of the Prussian army on the anvil which D'Erlon's
corps would provide further to the west. He now felt assured of
victory; for the corps of Lobau was nearing Fleurus to take the place
of the Imperial Guard; and the Prussians had no supports. "They have
no reserve," he remarked, as he swept the hostile position with his
glass. This was true: their centre consisted of troops that for four
hours had been either torn by artillery or exhausted by the fiendish
strife in Ligny.
And now, as if the pent-up powers of Nature sought to cow rebellious
man into awe and penitence, the artillery of the sky pealed forth.
Crash after crash shook the ground; flash upon flash rent the
sulphur-laden rack; darkness as of night stole over the scene; and a
deluge of rain washed the blood-stained earth. The storm served but to
aid the assailants in their last and fiercest efforts. Amidst the
gloom the columns of the Imperial Guard crept swiftly down the slope
towards Ligny, gave new strength to Gérard's men, and together with
them broke through the defence. A little higher up the stream,
Milhaud's cuirassiers struggled across, and, animated by the Emperor's
presence, poured upon the shattered Prussian centre. No timely help
could it now receive either from Blücher or Thielmann; for the
darkness of the storm had shrouded from view the beginnings of the
onset, and Thielmann had just suffered from a heedless assault on
Grouchy's wing.
As the thunder-clouds rolled by, the gleams of the setting sun lit up
the field and revealed to Blücher the full extent of his error.[491]
His army was cut in twain. In vain did he call in his troops from St.
Amand: in vain did he gallop back to his squadrons between Bry and
Sombref and lead them forward. Their dashing charge was suddenly
checked at the brink of a hollow way; steady volleys tore away their
front; and the cuirassiers completed their discomfiture. Blücher's
charger was struck by a bullet, and in his fall badly bruised the
Field-Marshal; but his trusty adjutant, Nostitz, managed to hide him
in the twilight, while the cuirassiers swept onwards up the hill.
Other Prussian squadrons, struggling to save the day, now charged home
and drove back the steel-clad ranks. Some Uhlans and mounted Landwehr
reached the place where the hero lay; and Nostitz was able to save
that precious life. Sorely battered, but still defiant like their
chief, the Prussian cavalry covered the retreat at the centre; the
wings fell back in good order, the right holding on to the village of
Bry till past midnight; but several battalions of disaffected troops
broke up and did not rejoin their comrades. About 14,000 Prussians and
11,000 French lay dead or wounded on that fatal field.[492]
Napoleon, as he rode back to Fleurus after nightfall, could claim that
he had won a great victory. Yet he had not achieved the results
portrayed in Soult's despatch of 3.15 to Ney. This was due partly to
Ney's failure to fulfil his part of the programme, and partly to the
apparition of D'Erlon's corps, which led to the postponement of
Napoleon's grand attack on Ligny.
The mystery as to the movements of D'Erlon and his 20,000 men has
never been fully cleared up. The evidence collected by Houssaye leaves
little doubt that, as soon as the Emperor realized the serious nature
of the conflict at Ligny, he sent orders to D'Erlon, whose vanguard
was then near Frasnes, to diverge and attack Blücher's exposed flank.
That is to say, D'Erlon was now called on to deal the decisive blow
which had before been assigned to Ney, who was now warned, though very
tardily, not to rely on the help of D'Erlon's corps. Misunderstanding
his order, D'Erlon made for Fleurus, and thus alarmed Napoleon and
delayed his final blow for wellnigh two hours. Moreover, at 6 p.m.,
when D'Erlon might have assailed Blücher's right with crushing effect,
he received an urgent command from Ney to return. Assuredly he should
not have hesitated now that St. Amand was almost within cannon-shot,
while Quatre Bras could scarcely be reached before nightfall; but he
was under Ney's command; and, taking a rather pedantic view of the
situation, he obeyed his immediate superior. Lastly, no one has
explained why the Emperor, as soon as he knew the errant corps to be
that of D'Erlon, did not recall him at once, bidding him fall on the
exposed wing of the Prussians. Doubtless he assumed that D'Erlon would
now fulfil his instructions and march against Bry; but he gave no
order to this effect, and the unlucky corps vanished.
At that time a desperate conflict was drawing to a close at Quatre
Bras. Ney had delayed his attack until 2 p.m.; for, firstly, Reille's
corps alone was at hand--D'Erlon's rearguard early on that morning
being still near Thuin--and, secondly, the Marshal heard at 10 a.m.
that Prussian columns were marching westwards from Sombref, a move
that would endanger his rear behind Frasnes. Furthermore, the approach
to Quatre Bras was flanked by the extensive Bossu Wood, and by a
spinney to the right of the highway. Reille therefore counselled
caution, lest the affair should prove to be "a Spanish battle where
the English show themselves only when it is time." When, however,
Reille's corps pushed home the attack, the weakness of the defence was
speedily revealed. After a stout stand, the 7,000 Dutch-Belgians under
the Prince of Orange were driven from the farm of Gémioncourt, which
formed the key of the position, and many of them fled from the field.
But at this crisis the Iron Duke himself rode up; and the arrival of a
Dutch-Belgian brigade and of Picton's division of British infantry,
about 3 p.m., sufficed to snatch victory from the Marshal's
grasp.[493] He now opened a destructive artillery fire on our front,
to which the weak Dutch-Belgian batteries could but feebly reply.
Nothing, however, could daunt the hardihood of Picton's men. Shaking
off the fatigue of a twelve hours' march from Brussels under a burning
sun, they steadily moved down through the tall crops of rye towards
the farm and beat off a fierce attack of Piré's horsemen. On the
allied left, the 95th Rifles (now the Rifle Brigade) and Brunswickers
kept a clutch on the Namur road which nothing could loosen. But our
danger was mainly at the centre. Under cover of the farmhouse, French
columns began to drive in our infantry, whose ammunition was already
running low. Wellington determined to crush this onset by a
counter-attack in line of Picton's division, the "fighting division"
of the Peninsula. With threatening shouts they advanced to the charge;
and before that moving wall the foe fell back in confusion beyond the
rivulet.
Still, the French drove back the Dutch in the wood, and the
Brunswickers on its eastern fringe, killing the brave young Duke of
Brunswick as he attempted to rally his raw recruits. Into the gap thus
left the French horsemen pushed forward, making little impression upon
our footmen, but compelling them to keep in a close formation, which
exposed them in the intervals between the charges to heavy losses from
the French cannon.
So the afternoon wore on. Between 5 and 6 o'clock our weary troops
were reinforced by Alten's division. A little later, a brigade of
Kellermann's heavy cavalry came up from the rear and renewed Ney's
striking power--but again too late. Already he was maddened by the
tidings that D'Erlon's corps had been ordered off towards Ligny, and
next by Napoleon's urgent despatch of 3.15 p.m. bidding him envelop
Blücher's right. Blind with indignation at this seeming injustice, he
at once sent an imperative summons to D'Erlon to return towards Quatre
Bras, and launched a brigade of Kellermann's cuirassiers at those
stubborn squares.
The attack nearly succeeded. The horsemen rushed upon our 69th
Regiment just when the Prince of Orange had foolishly ordered it back
into line, caught it in confusion, and cut it up badly. Another
regiment, the 33rd, fled into the wood, but afterwards re-formed; the
other squares beat off the onset. The torrent, however, only swerved
aside: on it rushed almost to the cross-roads, there to be stopped by
a flanking fire from the wood and from the 92nd (Gordon) Highlanders
lining the roadway in front.--"Ninety-second, don't fire till I tell
you," exclaimed the Duke. The volley rang out when the horsemen were
but thirty paces off. The effect was magical. Their front was torn
asunder, and the survivors made off in a panic that spread to Foy's
battalions of foot and disordered the whole array.[494]
Ney still persisted in his isolated assaults; but reinforcements were
now at hand that brought up Wellington's total to 31,000 men, while
the French were less than 21,000. At nightfall the Marshal drew back
to Frasnes; and there D'Erlon's errant corps at last appeared. Thanks
to conflicting orders, it had oscillated between two battles and taken
part in neither of them.
Such was the bloody fight of Quatre Bras. It cost Wellington 4,600
killed and wounded, mainly from the flower of the British infantry,
three Highland regiments losing as many as 878 men. The French losses
were somewhat lighter. Few conflicts better deserve the name of
soldiers' battles. On neither side was the generalship brilliant.
Twilight set in before an adequate force of British cavalry and
artillery approached the field where their comrades on foot had for
five hours held up in unequal contest against cannon, sabre, and
lance. The victory was due to the strange power of the British soldier
to save the situation when it seems past hope.
Still less did it redound to the glory of Ney. Once more he had
merited the name of bravest of the brave. At the crisis of the fight,
when the red squares in front defied his utmost efforts, he brandished
his sword in helpless wrath, praying that the bullets that flew by
might strike him down. The rage of battle had, in fact, partly
obscured his reason. He was now a fighter, scarcely a commander; and
to this cause we may attribute his neglect adequately to support
Kellermann's charge. Had this been done, Quatre Bras might have ended
like Marengo. Far more serious, however, was his action in
countermanding the Emperor's orders' by recalling D'Erlon to Quatre
Bras; for, as we have seen, it robbed his master of the decisive
victory that he had the right to expect at Ligny. Yet this error must
not be unduly magnified. It is true that Napoleon at 3.15 sent a
despatch to Ney bidding him envelop Blücher's flank; but the order did
not reach him until some time after 5, when the allies were pressing
him hard, and when he had just heard of D'Erlon's deflection towards
the Emperor's battle.[495] He must have seen that his master misjudged
the situation at Quatre Bras; and in such circumstances a Marshal of
France was not without excuse when he corrected an order which he saw
to be based on a misunderstanding. Some part of the blame must surely
attach to the slow-paced D'Erlon and to the Emperor himself, who first
underrated the difficulties both at Ligny and Quatre Bras, and then
changed his plans when Ney was in the midst of a furious fight.
Nevertheless, the general results obtained on June the 16th were
enormously in favour of Napoleon. He had inflicted losses on the
Prussians comparable with those of Jena-Auerstädt; and he retired to
rest at Fleurus with the conviction that they must hastily fall back
on their immediate bases of supply, Namur and Liège, leaving
Wellington at his mercy. The rules of war and the dictates of humdrum
prudence certainly prescribed this course for a beaten army,
especially as Bülow's corps was known to be on the Liège road.
Scarcely had the Prussian retreat begun in the darkness, when officers
pressed up to Gneisenau, on whom now devolved all responsibility, for
instructions as to the line of march. At once he gave the order to
push northwards to Tilly. General Reiche thereupon pointed out that
this village was not marked upon the smaller maps with which colonels
were provided; whereupon the command was given to march towards the
town of Wavre, farther distant on the same road. An officer was posted
at the junction of roads to prevent regiments straying towards Namur;
but some had already gone too far on this side to be recalled--a fact
which was to confuse the French pursuers on the morrow. The greater
part of Thielmann's corps had fallen back on Gembloux; but, with these
exceptions, the mass of the Prussians made for Tilly, near which place
they bivouacked. Early on the next morning their rearguard drew off
from Sombref; and, thanks to the inertness of their foes, the line of
retreat remained unknown. During the march to Wavre, their columns
were cheered by the sight of the dauntless old Field-Marshal, who was
able to sit a horse once more. Thielmann's corps did not leave
Gembloux till 2 p.m., but reached Wavre in safety. Meanwhile Bülow's
powerful corps was marching unmolested from the Roman road near Hannut
to a position two miles east of Wavre, where it arrived at nightfall.
Equally fortunate was the reserve ammunition train, which, unnoticed
by the French cavalry, wound northwards by cross-roads through
Gembloux, and reached the army by 5 p.m.[496]
In his "Commentaries," written at St. Helena, Napoleon sharply
criticised the action of Gneisenau in retreating northwards to Wavre,
because that town is farther distant from Wellington's line of retreat
than Sombref is from Quatre Bras, and is connected with it only by
difficult cross-roads. He even asserted that the Prussians ought to
have made for Quatre Bras, a statement which presumes that Gneisenau
could have rallied his army sufficiently after Ligny to file away on
the Quatre Bras _chaussée_ in front of Napoleon's victorious legions.
But the Prussian army was virtually cut in half, and could not have
reunited so as to attempt the perilous flank march across Napoleon's
front. We shall, therefore, probably not be far wrong if we say of
this criticism that the wish was father to the thought. A march on
Quatre Bras would have been a safe means of throwing away the Prussian
army.[497]
To the present writer it seems probable that Gneisenau's action, in
the first instance, was undertaken as the readiest means of reuniting
the Prussian wings. But Gneisenau cannot have been blind to the
advantages of a reunion with Wellington, which a northerly march would
open out. The report which he sent to his Sovereign from Wavre shows
that by that time he believed the Prussian position to be "not
disadvantageous"; while in a private letter written at noon on the
17th he expressly states that the Duke will accept battle at Waterloo
if the Prussians help him with two army corps. Gneisenau's only doubts
seem to have been whether Wellington would fight and whether his own
ammunition would be to hand in time. Until he was sure on these two
points caution was certainly necessary.
The results of this prompt rally of the Prussians were infinitely
enhanced by the fact that Wellington soon found it out, while Napoleon
did not grasp its full import until he was in the thick of the battle
of Waterloo. To the final steps that led up to this dramatic finale we
must now briefly refer.
It is strange that Gneisenau, on the night of the 16th, took no steps
to warn his allies of the Prussian retreat, and merely left them to
infer it from his last message, that he must do so if he were not
succoured. Müffling, indeed, says that a Prussian officer was sent,
but was shot by the French on the British left wing. Seeing, however,
that Wellington had beaten back Ney's forces before the Prussian
retreat began, the story may be dismissed as a lame excuse of
Gneisenau's neglect.[498]
From the risk of being crushed by Napoleon, the Anglo-Dutch forces
were saved by the vigilance of their leader and the supineness of the
enemy. After a brief rest at Genappe, the Duke was back at the front
at dawn, and despatched two cavalry patrols towards Sombref to find
out the results of the battle. The patrol, which was accompanied by
the Duke's aide-de-camp, Colonel Gordon, came into touch with the
Prussian rear. On his return soon after 10, the staff-officer, Basil
Jackson, was at once sent to bid Picton immediately prepare to fall
back on Waterloo, an order which that veteran received very
sulkily.[499] Shortly after Gordon's return, a Prussian orderly
galloped up and confirmed the news of their retreat, which drew from
the Duke the remark: "Blücher has had a d---- d good licking and gone
back to Wavre.... As he has gone back, we must go too." The infantry
now began to file off by degrees behind hedges or under cover of a
screen of cavalry and skirmishers, these keeping Ney's men busy in
front, until the bulk of the army was well through the narrow and
crowded street of Genappe.
And how came it that Napoleon and Ney missed this golden opportunity?
In the first case, it was due to their chiefs of staff, who had not
sent overnight any tidings as to the results of their respective
battles. Until Count Flahaut returned to the Imperial headquarters
about 8 a.m., Napoleon knew nothing as to the position of affairs at
Quatre Bras; while a similar carelessness on Soult's part left Ney
powerless to attempt anything against Wellington until somewhat later
in the morning.
But Napoleon's inaction lasted nearly up to 11.30. How is this to be
accounted for? In reply, some attribute his conduct to illness of body
and torpor of mind--a topic that will engage our attention presently;
others assert that the army urgently needed rest; but the effective
cause was his belief that the Prussians were retreating eastwards away
from Wellington. This was the universal belief at headquarters. He had
ordered Grouchy to follow them at dawn; Grouchy's lieutenant, Pajol,
struck to the south-east, and by 4 a.m. reported that Blücher was
heading for Namur. Such was the news that the Emperor heard from
Grouchy about 8 a.m.--he refused to grant him an audience earlier.
Forthwith he dictated a letter to Ney to the following effect: that
the Prussians had been routed and were being pursued towards Namur;
that the British could not attack him (Ney) at Quatre Bras, for the
Emperor would in that case march on their flank and destroy them in an
instant; that he heard with pain how isolated Ney's troops had been on
the 16th, and ordered him to close up his divisions and occupy Quatre
Bras. If he could not effect that task, he must warn the Emperor, who
would then come. Finally, he warned him that "the present day is
needed to finish this operation, to complete the munitions of war, to
rally stragglers and call in detachments."
A singular day's programme this for the man who had trebled the
results of the victory of Jena by the remorseless energy of the
pursuit. After dictating this despatch, he ordered Lobau to take a
division of infantry for the support of Pajol on the Namur road. He
then set out for St. Amand in his carriage. On arriving at the place
of carnage he mounted his horse and rode slowly over the battle-field,
seeing to the needs of the wounded of both nations with kindly care,
and everywhere receiving the enthusiastic acclaim of his soldiery.
This done, he dismounted and talked long and earnestly with Grouchy,
Gérard, and others on the state of political parties at Paris. They
listened with ill-concealed restlessness. At Fleurus Grouchy asked for
definite orders, and received the brusque reply that he must wait. But
now, towards 11 o'clock, the Emperor hears that Wellington is still at
Quatre Bras, that Pajol has captured eight Prussian guns on the Namur
road, and that Excelmans has seen masses of the enemy at Gembloux. At
once he turns from politics to war.
His plan is formed. While he himself falls on the British, Grouchy is
to pursue the Prussians with the corps of Gérard and Vandamme, the
division of Teste (from Lobau's command), and the cavalry corps of
Pajol, Excelmans, and Milhaud. The Marshal begged to be relieved of
the task, setting forth the danger of pursuing foes that were now
reunited and far away. It was in vain. About 11.30 the Emperor
developed his verbal instructions in a written order penned by
Bertrand. It bade Grouchy proceed to Gembloux with the forces stated
above (except Milhaud's corps and a division of Vandamme's corps,
which were to follow Napoleon) to reconnoitre on the roads leading to
Namur and Maestricht, to pursue the enemy, and inform the Emperor as
to their intentions. If they have evacuated Namur, it is to be
occupied by the National Guards. "It is important to know what Blücher
and Wellington mean to do, and whether they propose reuniting their
armies in order to cover Brussels and Liège, by trying their fortune
in another battle...."[500]
As Napoleon's fate was to depend largely on an intelligent carrying
out of this order, we may point out that it consisted of two chief
parts, the general aim and the means of carrying out that aim. The aim
was to find out the direction of the Prussians' retreat, and to
prevent them joining Wellington, whether for the defence of Brussels
or of Liège. The means were an advance to Gembloux and scouting along
the Namur and Maestricht roads. The chance that the allies might
reunite for the defence of Brussels was alluded to, but no measures
were prescribed as to scouting in that direction: these were left to
Grouchy's discretion. It must be confessed that the order was not
wholly clear. To name the towns of Brussels and Liège (which are sixty
miles apart) was sufficiently distracting; and to suggest that only
the eastern and south-eastern roads should be explored was certain to
limit Grouchy's immediate attention to those roads alone. For he
distrusted alike his own abilities and the power of the force placed
at his disposal; and an officer thus situated is sure to inclose
himself in the strict letter of his instructions. This was what he
did, with disastrous results.
Grouchy had hitherto held no important command. As a cavalry general
he had done brilliant service; but now he was launched on a duty that
called for strategic insight. His force was scarcely equal to the
work. True, it was strong for scouting, having nearly 6,000 light
horse; but the 27,000 footmen of Vandamme's and Gérard's corps had
been exhausted by the deadly strife in the villages and were expecting
a day's rest. Their commanders also resented being placed under
Grouchy. In fact, leaders and men disliked the task, and set about it
in a questioning, grumbling way. The infantry did not start till about
3 o'clock and only reached Gembloux late that evening--nine miles in
six hours! The cavalry, too, was so badly handled by Excelmans around
Gembloux that Thielmann's corps slipped away northward. The rain fell
in torrents, obscuring the view; but it seems strange that the
direction of the Prussian retreat was not surmised until about
nightfall.
Meanwhile, on the French left wing, Ney had been equally lax. He must
have received Napoleon's order to occupy Quatre Bras, "if there was
only a rearguard there," a little before 10 a.m.; but he took no steps
beyond futile skirmishing, and apparently knew not that the British
were slipping away.
About 2 p.m., when the British cavalry was ready to turn rein, the
Duke and Sir H. Vivian saw the glint of cuirasses along the Sombref
road. It was the vanguard of the Emperor's advance. Furious that his
foes were escaping from his clutches, Napoleon had left his carriage
and was pressing on with the foremost horsemen. To Ney he sent an
imperative summons to advance, and when that Marshal came up, greeted
him with the words "You have ruined France." But it was time for
deeds, not words; and he now put forth all his strength. At once he
flung his powerful cavalry at the British rear; and even now it might
have gone hard with Wellington had not the lowering clouds burst in a
deluge of rain. Quickly the road was ploughed up; and the cornfields
became impassable for the French horsemen.
While the pursuers struggled in the mire and aimed wildly through the
pelting haze, the British rearguard raced for safety. Says Captain
Mercer of the artillery: "We galloped for our lives through the storm,
striving to gain the hamlets, Lord Uxbridge urging us on, crying 'Make
haste; for God's sake gallop, or you will be taken.'"[501] Gaining on
the pursuit, they reached Genappe, and, filing over its bridge and up
the narrow street, prepared to check the French. At this time the
Emperor galloped up, drenched to the skin, his gray overcoat streaming
with rain, his hat bent out of all shape by the storm.[502] He was
once more the artillery officer of Toulon. "Fire on them," he shouted
to his gunners, "they are English." A sharp skirmish ensued, in which
our 7th Hussars, charging down into the village, were worsted by the
French lancers, "an arm," says Cotton, "with which we were quite
unacquainted." In their retreat they were saved by the Life Guards,
whose weight and strength carried all before them.
At last, on the ridge of Waterloo, Wellington's force turned at bay.
Napoleon, coming up at 6.30 to the brow of the opposite slope, ordered
a strong force to advance into the sodden clay of the valley. It was
promptly torn by a heavy cannonade; and the truth was borne in on him
that the British had escaped him for that day.
NAPOLEON'S HEALTH IN THE WATERLOO CAMPAIGN
As many writers assert that Napoleon at this time was but the shadow
of his former self, we must briefly review the evidence of
contemporaries on this subject; for if the assertion be true, the
Battle of Waterloo deserves little notice.
It seems that for some time past there had been a slight falling off
in his mental and bodily powers; but when it began and how far it
progressed is matter of doubt. Some observers, including Chaptal, date
it from the hardships of the retreat from Moscow. This is very
doubtful. He ended that campaign in a better state of health than he
had enjoyed during the advance. Besides, in none of his wars did he
show such vitality and fertility of resource as in the desperate
struggle of 1814, which Wellington pronounced his masterpiece. After
this there seems to have been a period of something like relapse at
Elba. In September, 1814, Sir Neil Campbell reported: "Napoleon seems
to have lost all habits of study and sedentary application. He
occasionally falls into a state of inactivity never known before, and
sometimes reposes in his bedroom of late for several hours in the day;
takes exercise in a carriage and not on horseback. His health
excellent and his spirits not at all depressed" ("F.O.," France, No.
114). During his ten months at Elba he became very stout and his
cheeks puffy.
On his return to France he displayed his old activity; and the most
credible witnesses assert that his faculties showed no marked decline.
Guizot, who saw a good deal of him, writes: "I perceive in the
intellect and conduct of Napoleon during the Hundred Days no sign of
enfeebling: I find in his judgment and actions his accustomed
qualities." In a passage quoted above (p. 449) Mollien notes that his
master was a prey to lassitude after some hours of work, but he says
nothing on the subject of disease; and in a man of forty-six, who had
lived a hard life and a "fast" life, we should not expect to find the
capacity for the sustained intellectual efforts of the Consulate.
Méneval noticed nothing worse in his master's condition than a
tendency to "réverie": he detected no disease. The statement of
Pasquier that his genius and his physical powers were in a profound
decline is a manifest exaggeration, uttered by a man who did not once
see him before Waterloo, who was driven from Paris by him, and strove
to discourage his supporters. Still less can we accept the following
melodramatic description, by Thiébault, of Napoleon's appearance on
Sunday, June 11th: "His look, once so formidable and piercing, had
lost its strength and even its steadiness: his face had lost all
expression and all its force: his mouth, compressed, had none of its
former witchery: and his gait was as perplexed as his demeanour and
gestures were undecided: the ordinary pallor of his skin was replaced
by a strongly pronounced greenish tinge which struck me."
Let us follow this wreck of a man to the war and see what he
accomplished. At dawn on June 12th he entered his landau and drove to
Laon, a distance of some seventy miles. On the next day he got through
an immense amount of work, and proceeded to Beaumont. On the 15th of
June he was up at dawn, mounted his horse, and remained on horseback,
directing the operations against the Prussians, for nearly eighteen
hours. This time was broken by one spell of rest. Near Charleroi, says
Baudus, an officer of Soult's staff, he was overcome by sleep and
heeded not the cheers of a passing column: at this Baudus was
indignant, but most unjustly so. Napoleon needed these snatches of
sleep as a relief to prolonged mental tension. At night he returned to
Charleroi, "overcome with fatigue." On the next day he was still very
weary, says Ségur; he did not exert himself until the battle of Ligny
began at 2.30; but he then rode about till nightfall, through a time
of terrible heat. Fatigue showed itself again early on the morrow,
when he declined to see Grouchy before 8 a.m. Yet his review of the
troops and his long discussions on Parisian politics were clearly due,
not to torpor, but to the belief that he had sundered the allies, and
could occupy Brussels at will; for when he found out his mistake, he
showed all the old energy, riding with the vanguard from Quatre Bras
to La Belle Alliance through the violent rain.
Whatever, then, were his ailments, they were not incompatible with
great and sustained activity. What were those ailments? He is said to
have suffered from intermittent affections of the lower bowel, of the
bladder, and of the skin, the two last resulting in ischury (Dorsey
Gardner's "Quatre Bras, Ligny, and Waterloo," pp. 31-37; O'Connor
Morris, pp. 164-166, note). The list is formidable; but it contains
its own refutation. A man suffering from these diseases, unless in
their earliest and mildest stages, could not have done what Napoleon
did. Ischury, if at all pronounced, is a bar to horse exercise.
Doubtless his long rides aggravated any trouble that he had in this
respect, for Pétiet, who was attached to the staff, noticed that he
often dismounted and sat before a little table that was brought to him
for the convenience of examining maps; but Pétiet thought this was
due, not to ill health (about which he says nothing), but to his
corpulence ("Souvenirs militaires," pp. 196 and 212). Prince Jerome
and a surgeon of the imperial staff assured Thiers that Napoleon was
suffering from a disease of the bladder; but this was contradicted by
the valet, Marchand; and if he really was suffering from all, or any
one, of the maladies named above, it is very strange that the surgeon
allowed him to expose himself to the torrential rain of the night of
the 17th-18th for a purpose which a few trusty officers could equally
well have discharged (see next chapter). Furthermore, Baron Larrey,
Chief Surgeon of the army, who saw Napoleon before the campaign began
and during its course, _says not a word about the Emperor's health_
("Relation médicale des Campagnes, 1815-1840," pp. 5-11).
Again, the intervals of drowsiness on the 15th and 18th of June, on
which the theory of physical collapse is largely based, may be
explained far more simply. Napoleon had long formed the habit of
working a good deal at night and of seeking repose during a busy day
by brief snatches of slumber. The habit grew on him at Elba; and this,
together with his activity since daybreak, accounts for his sleeping
near Charleroi. The same explanation probably holds good as to his
occasional drowsiness at Waterloo. He scarcely closed his eyes before
3.30 a.m.; and he cannot have been physically fit for the unexpectedly
long and severe strain of that Sunday. That he began the day well we
know from a French soldier named Barral (grandfather of the author of
"L'Epopée de Waterloo"), who looked at him carefully at 9.30 a.m., and
wrote: "He seemed to me in very good health, extraordinarily active
and preoccupied." Decoster, the peasant guide who was with Napoleon
the whole day, afterwards told Sir W. Scott that he was calm and
confident up to the crisis. Gourgaud, who clung to him during the
flight to Paris and thence to Rochefort, notes nothing more serious
than great fatigue; Captain Maitland, when he received him on board
the "Bellerophon," thought him "a remarkably strong, well-built man."
During the voyage to St. Helena he suffered from nothing worse than
_mal de mer_; he ate meat in exceptional quantity, even in the
tropics.
Very noteworthy, too, is Lavalette's narrative. When he saw Napoleon
before his departure from Paris to the Belgian frontier, he found him
suffering from depression and a pain in the chest; but he avers that,
on the return from Waterloo, apart from one "frightful epileptic
laugh," Napoleon speedily settled down to his ordinary behaviour: not
a word is added as to his health. (Sir W. Scott, "Life of Napoleon,"
vol. viii., p. 496; Gourgaud, "Campagne de 1815," and "Journal de St.
Hélène," vol. ii., Appendix 32; "Narrative of Captain Maitland," p.
208; Lavalette, "Mems.," ch. xxxiii.; Houssaye ridicules the stories
of his ill-health.)
What is the upshot of it all? The evidence seems to show that,
whatever was Napoleon's condition before the campaign, he was in his
usual health amidst the stern joys of war. And this is consonant with
his previous experience: he throve on events which wore ordinary
beings to the bone: the one thing that he could not endure was the
worry of parliamentary opposition, which aroused a nervous irritation
not to be controlled and concealed without infinite effort. During the
campaign we find very few trustworthy proofs of his decline and much
that points to energy of resolve and great rallying power after
exertion. If he was suffering from three illnesses, they were
assuredly of a highly intermittent nature.
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