At least Kitty and his sons were safe. Somerset had escorted them back to England before joining Arthur in Brussels. They had left Paris only a few days before Napoleon had arrived and Somerset had taken the commendable precaution of burning all the embassy’s records before leaving. Unfortunately, the Bourbons had failed to show the same good sense and Napoleon had discovered the secret treaty that had been signed between Austria, France and England at the start of the year. When the details had been published in the French newspapers the Prussians and Russians had been outraged, and many of the officers in Blücher’s army were hostile and suspicious of their English allies in consequence.
When the soup had been served, Arthur leaned towards Uxbridge and asked quietly, ‘Any fresh reports of enemy activity on our right flank?’
‘Nothing new. The Frogs seem to be there in strength, judging by what they show us along the frontier. Of course, if I had permission to send patrols into France we would have a far clearer picture.’
‘Out of the question. My orders are to hold the army in readiness until war is declared. If we cross the frontier we become the aggressors.’
‘Something of a nicety,’ Uxbridge said dismissively. ‘It is hard to believe that war can be avoided at this stage.’
‘Nevertheless, we have our orders. In the meantime, I am concerned that Bonaparte may attempt to strike to the west of Brussels, and cut us off from the sea. The army must be ready to concentrate against an attack from that quarter. So, we must have adequate warning from your cavalry patrols, Uxbridge. They must stay alert.’
‘I have them in hand, your grace. You’ll be amongst the first to know if Boney goes for the coast, or takes the Mons road to Brussels.’
‘That is well.’ Arthur paused a moment. ‘Blücher’s chief of staff is demanding to know where I intend to concentrate my army in the event of an attack. I cannot tell him until I know where the main weight of the French army is positioned.’
‘Damned Prussians,’ Uxbridge muttered before he raised his spoon and took a sip. His eyes lit up. ‘I say, fine soup.’
Arthur suppressed a sigh. He had been trying to keep up the morale of his army, and that of his Belgian hosts, by insisting that the social life of Brussels continue as if there were no threat of war. The difficulty of that was that many of his officers were playing their part too well and appeared to have scant concern for the presence of a French army gathering on the other side of the border.
He forced himself to make inane conversation with Uxbridge, until the end of the first course. Then, as the dishes were cleared away, a staff officer entered the dining room and hurried to Arthur’s side and leaned towards his ear.
‘Your grace, there is a Prussian officer waiting in the hall. He says he has an urgent despatch from Marshal Blücher’s headquarters.’
Arthur nodded, and smiled apologetically to his guests as he rose from his seat at the head of the table. ‘Pray continue the meal, gentlemen. I shan’t be long.’
He followed the officer outside to where the mud-bespattered Prussian waited. Despite his anxious expression, the Prussian snapped to attention and bowed stiffly before speaking in heavily accented English.
‘I come from General Gneisenau, your grace. The chief of staff begs to inform you that the French attacked our position at Thuin at eight o’clock this morning.’
‘In what strength?’
‘Enough to drive in our outposts and then take the town, your grace.’
‘Are the French attacking anywhere else?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Very well.’ Arthur nodded his thanks. ‘Tell General Gneisenau that I am concentrating my army. I will send word of my position as soon as I can.’
The Prussian bowed his head again and turned to stride back towards the entrance of the house Arthur had rented in the heart of the city. Arthur turned to the staff officer. ‘Get to headquarters at once. Tell Somerset to issue orders to every formation. The army is to form up and be ready to march as soon as orders are issued.’
‘Yes, sir.’ The officer turned away and increased his pace.
‘Walk, my boy, don’t run! We must appear calm in front of the local people.’
‘Yes, sir,’ the young officer replied, chastened.
Arthur returned to the dining room and sat back down. Picking up his fork he rapped the side of his glass. ‘Quiet, gentlemen.’
The officers turned towards him.
‘The French have crossed the border,’ he announced. ‘They attacked one of Blücher’s formations.’
‘At last.’ Uxbridge smiled. ‘Where was this?’
‘At Thuin. The question is, does this constitute the main thrust of their attack, or is it a feint?’
‘A feint?’ Picton growled. ‘Are you saying that Boney’s trying to lure us towards the Prussians? That makes no military sense to me.’
‘It does, if he means to break through on our right and sever our communications.’ Arthur paused. ‘That is what I believe his intention to be, for the present. To guard against that possibility, the army will concentrate to the west of Thuin. If there is any indication that this is not a feint, then we will adjust our position accordingly. I have given the order for the army to make ready to march. I will also send an order to General Dörnberg at Mons to probe for any sign of the enemy to his front. Meanwhile we shall wait until the situation becomes clear. Now, gentlemen, you know my policy with regard to the local people and our own civilians. We will attend tonight’s ball and there is to be no mention of this attack. I suggest you make the most of the entertainment, since it may be the last such occasion for a while.’
Shortly after ten o’clock Arthur was talking to Uxbridge when he saw the guests stir by the entrance to the ballroom as a figure in a riding cloak entered and scanned the room. Arthur recognised him at once - General Müffling, the officer assigned to liaise between the headquarters of the two allied armies. As soon as he caught sight of Arthur the Prussian hurried through the crowd towards him.
‘I fear the game is up,’ Arthur muttered as the dancing stopped and the orchestra fell silent. All eyes were turning towards him.
‘So it seems.’ Uxbridge nodded.
Müffling had been riding hard and his cloak and boots were smeared with mud. ‘Sir, Marshal Blücher sent me.’
‘Come.’ Arthur placed an arm on the Prussian’s shoulder. ‘Let us converse somewhere quiet, and I shall have refreshments brought to you.’
He led Müffling through a door at the side of the ballroom. Beyond, lit by a single candlestick, lay a small room used to store chairs. Arthur gestured to catch Somerset’s attention and pointed towards the orchestra before closing the door behind him. As the music struck up Arthur turned to Müffling.
‘What news?’
‘Blücher has advanced to Ligny to confront the French army. He asks if you will move to support him.’
‘How does Blücher know for certain that the French army lies before him?’
‘We have been fighting the enemy throughout the day, sir. Our cavalry patrols report large columns marching through Charleroi. They even heard the enemy soldiers cheering for their Emperor. There can be no doubt that this is their main line of advance.’
Arthur was silent for a moment as he considered Müffling’s words. Then he nodded slowly. ‘Very well, General. I hope that this is no ruse; I still think that the main attack will be along the most direct route to Brussels.’ Arthur reached for the handle of the door and nodded towards the ballroom. ‘Shall we?’
As they emerged back into the brightly lit ballroom Arthur saw that many of the officers had already left and more were taking their leave and making for the exit. There was nothing he could do to stop them, not without creating a scene. Müffling strode away and Arthur beckoned to Uxbridge and the other senior officers present to join him so that he might pass on their brief exchange. As the officers left to join their commands, Arthur saw that the remaining guests were hurrying to quit the ball
room, fear in their eyes.
The streets of Brussels were filled with soldiers hurrying from their billets towards the regiments forming up outside the city. As Arthur’s carriage rattled over the cobbles he saw the first of the civilians loading their valuables into carriages and carts as they prepared to flee. Just before midnight the carriage reached General Müffling’s house and Arthur was quickly shown through to the study where the general was waiting.
‘I have given orders for the army to march east to support Marshal Blücher. We shall march through the night and hope to reach him by way of Quatre Bras tomorrow afternoon. Ride and tell him.’
‘I will, sir.’ Müffling reached for his coat. ‘I only pray that it is not already too late.’
Arthur nodded. Every hour counted. If the French took the vital crossroads at Quatre Bras then there would be little chance of uniting the allied armies - and all that stood between Bonaparte and possession of the crossroads were two Dutch brigades.
THE WATERLOO CAMPAIGN JUNE 1815
Chapter 57
Fleurus, 8.00 a.m., 16 June 1815
The order to Marshal Ney to seize the crossroads at Quartre Bras had just been sent when a report from Marshal Grouchy arrived, announcing that the Prussians were massing their forces near the village of Ligny, on the far side of the stream that gave the village its name. Napoleon felt his heartbeat quicken as he saw the opportunity that Blücher was foolishly extending to him. He looked up at the staff officer who had brought the message.
‘Are you certain it is the main Prussian force?’
‘Yes, sire. There is no question of it. They are forming up on the sloped ground on the far bank, in clear view.’
Napoleon smiled and then turned quickly to Soult. ‘We will attack Blücher with Grouchy’s wing and the reserve. Order them to advance on Ligny immediately.’
‘Yes, sire. And what of Marshal Ney? Shall I send fresh orders for him to march and join us?’
Napoleon quickly considered the positions of his forces and shook his head. ‘No. We must have the crossroads. But tell Ney that he is to report the moment he has won control of Quatre Bras.’ Napoleon rose from his chair and strode towards the door of the hotel that Soult’s headquarters had occupied. He gestured to the officer who had carried the message from Grouchy. ‘Come! You are to take me to your marshal at once.’
The Emperor and his escort hurriedly mounted, and led by Grouchy’s staff officer they pounded out of the village. Ahead of them stretched the rear echelons of the right wing of the army, battalion after battalion of infantry together with artillery columns. As the small party of horsemen galloped up the side of the road, the soldiers glanced round and let out a great cheer as Napoleon passed by, his grey coat-tails whipping out behind him.
An hour after he left headquarters Napoleon reached Marshal Grouchy’s command post at a windmill on a small hill overlooking the stream and the high ground beyond. The soldiers and guns of Vandamme’s corps were already deploying on the French side of the stream. Opposite them stood the Prussians: dense formations of infantry in their blue and black uniforms, spread out along the slope. Napoleon dismounted and hurried towards Grouchy and his staff.
‘It seems that fortune favours us, gentlemen,’ he said, gesturing towards the enemy. The officers smiled, and then Napoleon turned his attention directly on Grouchy.‘What do you know of their strength and dispositions?’
‘That’s Zieten’s corps over there, sire. My skirmishers captured some prisoners at first light. I had them interrogated. They said that the enemy is concentrating at Ligny. Our cavalry patrols report that two more Prussian corps are approaching from the north. There is no question of it. Blücher intends to fight.’
‘Then we may face as many as ninety thousand of them,’ Napoleon mused. ‘Very well, we need to bring every available man into line as swiftly as possible. You may start siting your guns opposite the Prussians. When the battle begins, they will make a fine target.’
‘Indeed, sire.’ Grouchy nodded.
Napoleon felt a surge of satisfaction flow through his body. His plan had called for the Army of the North to break through between the allies and then seek and destroy them one at a time. Now it seemed that Blücher had saved him the job. It was only a question of assembling his forces more swiftly than Blücher and attacking the instant he had the advantage.
As the hours passed and the sun climbed into the sky more infantry, cavalry and artillery swelled the ranks on either side. The Prussian infantry occupied all the buildings along the far bank of the Ligny and set about fortifying them, knocking loopholes in the walls to harass the French when they made their attack. While both sides prepared, Napoleon rode forward with his escort to inspect the battlefield more closely. The ground either side of the stream was marshy for some way and it was clear that any attack would be forced to use the bridges and fords scattered along the length of the stream. There would be heavy losses, Napoleon realised as he returned to the command post and waited for the rest of his forces, and Soult’s headquarters, to reach the battlefield. It steadily became evident that the enemy were arriving in greater numbers than the French, and towards noon Napoleon sent a message to Ney instructing him to attack the Prussian right flank as soon as Quatre Bras was in French hands.
By two in the afternoon Napoleon had decided on his plan. Standing over Soult’s map table, he briefed his officers. ‘The enemy has spread their forces thinly along the stream, over a considerable distance. The situation could hardly be better for us, gentlemen. While our cavalry contains Blücher’s left flank, the guns massed in the centre of the battlefield will pound the enemy line, and then we shall attack frontally. When the moment is ripe, the Imperial Guard will smash through their line and cut their army in two. It will only remain for Ney’s wing to fall upon their right flank and rear and the Prussians will be shattered. After that, we will turn on Wellington and end this campaign.’ He smiled as he stared round at his officers. ‘A few days from now France will have triumphed and our enemies will have no choice but to sue for peace.’
Half an hour later, the signal gun announced the opening of the battle, and the French batteries thundered out. At first they concentrated their fire on the defenders in the villages along the bank of the river, and then, as the order was given for the infantry to advance, they shifted their aim to begin wreaking terrible destruction in the ranks of the Prussian reserves drawn up in full view on the slope behind the stream. Roundshot smashed into the formations, leaving a trail of bodies and limbs to mark their passage. Despite the losses, the iron discipline of the Prussians held up, and the battered battalions closed up the gaps and stood firm.
Through his telescope Napoleon watched the progress of the attacks across the stream as his men fought to gain control of the villages covering the bridges and fords. The enemy fire was withering and the soldiers following the tricolours were being scythed down as they advanced. Yet their morale never faltered and the cheers for their country and their Emperor carried back faintly but clearly to Napoleon as he watched the bloody struggle.
Soult was at Napoleon’s side and muttered, ‘Our men are taking heavy punishment, sire.’
‘As are the enemy,’ Napoleon replied. ‘We just need Blücher to commit his full strength to the fight, and the Guard and Ney will deal the decisive blows.’ Napoleon lowered his telescope and focused his mind on the surrounding landscape once again. It would be as well to spur Ney on, to ensure that his men reached the battlefield in time to strike as hard a blow to the enemy as possible.
He turned to Soult. ‘Send a message to Ney. Tell him the battle is in full swing. He is to manoeuvre immediately in such a way as to envelop Blücher’s right and fall upon his rear. Tell him the fate of France is in his hands.’
Soult nodded as he finished scribbling down the message in his notebook and then hurried over to his aides to have the note rewritten in a fair hand. A moment later a despatch rider spurred his horse into a gallop and headed west towards
Quatre Bras. Napoleon turned his attention back to the vicious struggle along the banks of the stream and noted with satisfaction that the first of the villages had fallen into French hands as a tricolour appeared in the tower of the church.
‘Sire!’ Soult called out as he trotted over from where his staff sat hunched over their campaign desks, dealing with the constant flow of reports and orders. He held up a scrap of paper. ‘From Ney.’
‘Well?’
‘He reports that he is engaging Wellington at Quatre Bras. He estimates their number at twenty thousand, with more sighted approaching the crossroads.’
‘Damn.’ Napoleon pressed his lips together. This was unexpected. ‘Tell Ney to continue to fight for control of the crossroads, but detach d’Erlon’s corps to make the attack on Blücher’s flank. I need every man here. Every man.’
‘What about Lobau’s corps?’ Soult asked.
‘Lobau?’
‘At Charleroi, sire.’
Napoleon turned on his chief of staff. ‘What the hell are they doing at Charleroi?’
‘They have no orders, sire,’ Soult explained. ‘You made no mention of them this morning.’
‘I made no mention?’ Napoleon’s face drained of blood as he raged, ‘You fool, Soult! You idiot! What use is Lobau’s ten thousand in Charleroi? Send for them. At once, do you hear? Now get out of my sight.’
He turned away from his chief of staff before he gave in to the temptation to strike the man. An entire corps of his army was sitting uselessly as the decisive battle of the campaign was being fought. Lobau had little chance of arriving in time to make a difference. The outcome of the day rested on Ney’s shoulders. Napoleon turned and stared west for a moment, in the direction of Quatre Bras. If he could not have Ney, then at least d’Erlon’s corps would swing the balance here in Napoleon’s favour. There was still a good chance of destroying Blücher and his army.
The Fields of Death Page 65
