The Battle of Ligny, June 16, 1815; a near contemporary map
It proved impossible, however, for an immediate attack to be launched against the Ligny position. For one thing, Gérard’s IVth Corps was still some considerable way from Vandamme, and until he had come up the French strength would not be sufficient to ensure a successful engagement. Furthermore the forces of the reserve were also some distance from the field, although the Imperial Guard was already on its way toward the scene, having broken camp at 4:00
A.M. and set out along the road through Gilly toward Fleurus. But Lobau’s VIth Corps had been sent no orders of any kind and was still in the outskirts of Charleroi, an important oversight which the Emperor made no attempt to remedy until much later in the day. If only Napoleon had taken Grouchy’s original report seriously and set in motion a general concentration (if only a provisional one) toward Ligny, then there would have been no need for the aggravating delay. On the other hand, had the Emperor revealed his hand prematurely on the 16th, it is conceivable that Blücher’s columns marching up to support Ziethen might still have been capable of halting and avoiding battle. Under the circumstances the remainder of the morning was spent on the French side in bringing into position 68,000 men (the corps of Vandamme and Gérard), the cavalry formations of Pajol and Exelmans (12,500 sabers in all) and in siting 210 pieces of artillery.
Meanwhile, on the Prussian side of “no man’s land,” busy preparations were also strongly in evidence. During the morning, only Ziethen’s 32,000 men were in position, but some time after midday General Pirch arrived in support with as many more, followed about 3:00
P.M. by Thielmann with a further 29,500. In due course these 84,000 Prussians (whose number included 8,000 cavalry) disposed themselves and their 224 guns along a seven-mile defense line, in general terms running along the marshy course of the Ligny brook. No less than ten hamlets and villages were incorporated into the front line, each serving as a miniature fortress or point d’appui after loopholes had been driven into cottage and farm walls. Owing to the extreme marshiness of the brook area, the Prussian staff calculated that it would be feasible for the French to cross only at three or four bridges, all dominated by neighboring villages. Nevertheless, it was an extensive position for 84,000 men to hold in the light of contemporary military theory, which as a general rule called for 20,000 men for each mile of front. But Blücher and Gneisenau were evidently placing reliance on the arrival of Bülow’s Fourth Corps of 31,000 men (although in fact this formation proved too far distant to be able to intervene in the day’s righting) and on Wellington’s belated assurance (given at 1:30
P.M.) that he would come to their support—providing he was not previously attacked himself. The Prussians, following their custom, drew up the bulk of their troops on the exposed forward slopes of the overlooking hillsides. This was courting heavy casualties from French artillery fire, and these were duly inflicted when the action opened.
During the early afternoon, after ascertaining that the situation at Quatre Bras was reasonably quiet—at least for the time being—Wellington found time to ride across to visit his Prussian colleague. Dressed in a simple blue overcoat without decorations and wearing an ordinary two-cornered hat with three plumes fastened to it, he was not at first recognized by the troops he passed among. He met Blücher about one o’clock at the mill of Bussy. “From the hill Wellington could overlook our positions in every direction,” recalled Lieutenant-Colonel von Reiche, Ziethen’s chief of staff, “and he enquired what measures had been taken or were in hand. At this moment we noticed in the distance a party of the enemy, and Napoleon was clearly distinguishable in the group. Perhaps the eyes of the three greatest military commanders of the age were directed on one another.”16
The “Iron Duke” was not particularly reassured by what he could see. “I told the Prussian officers, in presence of Hardinge [the British commissioner attached to Blücher’s headquarters] that according to my judgment, the exposure of the advanced columns, and, indeed, of the whole army to cannonade, standing as they did so displayed to the aim of the enemy’s fire, was not prudent. The marshy banks of the stream made it out of their power to cross and attack the French, while the latter on the other hand, though they could not attack them, had it in their power to cannonade them and shatter them to pieces, after which they might fall upon them by the bridges at the villages. I said that if I were in Blücher’s place with English troops, I should withdraw all the columns I saw scattered about in front, and get more of the troops under shelter of the rising ground. However, they seemed to think they knew best, so I came away very shortly.”17 Blücher would have been well advised to heed Wellington’s advice, making greater use of the natural cover afforded by neighboring reverse slopes. However, the proud Prussians believed that it was more important to allow their men to obtain a clear view of their opponents. “Well I will come; provided I am not attacked myself,” was the Duke’s parting remark.
Napoleon meanwhile, as was ever his custom before battle, was carrying out a firsthand reconnaissance and visiting frontline units, putting an edge on the mettle of his men.
A minute examination of the enemy positions revealed further masses of Prussian troops moving into position—some in rear of Ziethen’s position (i.e., Pirch’s Second Corps) and some in the general direction of Sombreffe and Mazy, in fact Theilmann’s Third Corps. An ecstatic Napoleon snapped his viewing glass shut; the Prussians were almost certainly deliberately inviting a full-scale battle after all! In a position, furthermore, which was far from daunting. By 3:00
P.M. the Emperor’s hopes were finally confirmed: the foe was indeed massing in force. Even before this had been finally established, Napoleon was issuing his general orders for the coming engagement. The plan was typical in its concepts. While Pajol’s and Exelmann’s cavalry forces operated in such a way as to neutralize the 24,000 Prussians on Blücher’s left wing, Vandamme’s and Gérard’s corps were to attack the center and right of the Prussian position frontally all along the line. Meanwhile, as much as possible of Ney’s force was to be marching up from Quatre Bras along the lateral road (Napoleon assuming that the Prince of the Moskowa would have long ago taken possession of this vital junction) ready to fall with devastating effect on the Prussian right rear by about 6:00
P.M. Then, in the last act, the Imperial Guard would be sent in to smash a gap through Blücher’s front and win the battle. If the plan worked as well as expected, two thirds of Blücher’s army would be hopelessly routed if not utterly destroyed; his left wing would have no alternative but to retreat on Liège—in other words away from Wellington, who would thus be left isolated to face the full fighting power of I’ Armée du Nord on the following day.
At 2:00
P.M. Marshal Soult drafted Ney’s definitive orders. “His Majesty’s intention is that you shall attack whatever force is before you, and after vigorously driving it back, you will turn in our direction, so as to bring about the envelopment of those enemy troops which I have already mentioned to you [i.e., Blücher]. If the latter is overthrown first, then His Majesty will maneuver in your direction so as to assist your operations in the same way.”18 This illustrates the theoretical flexibility of the “two wings and a reserve” formation; in practice, it was not to work out so well. The overall success of Ligny depended in no small measure on Ney’s intervention at the right place and time, and as Wellington’s power of placing obstacles in his way was still very much an unfathomed complication, the plan rested on uncertain assumptions. On the other hand, the fruits of success—if obtainable—appeared dazzling enough. “In three hours’ time the campaign will be decided,” remarked the Emperor. “If Ney carries out his orders thoroughly, not a gun of the Prussian army will get away; it is taken in the very act.”19
All too often the battles of Quatre Bras and Ligny are treated as mere preliminary skirmishes preceding the battle of Waterloo two days later. This is very much to underrate their importance—especially in the cas
e of Ligny—which was in many ways a major Napoleonic victory. But for the slipshod handling of d’Erlon’s corps and the failure to pursue the defeated Prussians properly—the one error caused by defective staff work and sheer pigheaded-ness on the part of Ney, the other by a certain lapse of energy and clearsightedness on the part of the Emperor—Ligny could to all practical intents have ended the campaign. For neither Wellington nor Blücher were really a match for I’Armée du Nord if they were faced with its full strength on their own; only if they could unite their forces and fight together was there a real chance of an allied victory.
Once Gérard’s corps reached Fleurus (about 1:00
P.M.) it became clear that the day’s battle could not be far distant. But it was only at 2:30
P.M. that the battle of Ligny at last began. Grouchy’s cavalry on the right advanced to contain the Prussian left—a role they performed with the greatest economy and success—while Vandamme moved forward against the villages of St. Amand and Ligny with his 8th, 10th and IIth Infantry Divisions, assisted by a single detached division of Reille’s corps commanded by Lieutenant General Count Girard. This movement was intended to pin Blücher’s right and center, and so pare down the effective strength of his forward formations that an ever-increasing proportion of his reserves would have to be committed during the early stages of the action. From the outset, the fighting was bitter; the dense masses of Prussian reserve infantry suffered heavy casualties from the French bombardment, and yet it was soon discovered that they were drawn up out of immediate supporting range (in terms of musketry) of their hard-pressed comrades holding the front. They thus performed no useful role and suffered losses to small purpose.
The struggle for control of the line of the Ligny brook and the small villages overlooking it swept to and fro with the utmost ferocity. Captain Charles François of the 30th Line Regiment, serving in Gérard’s corps as an officer of the 12th Division, has left a graphic description of part of the titanic fight for Ligny itself when the brigade to which he belonged was ordered into action shortly after three o’clock. When within 200 yards of the hedges which concealed thousands of Prussian sharpshooters, the regiment took up battle order while still on the march. The charge was sounded and the soldiers went through the hedges. The 1st Brigade’s left half-battalion, to which I belonged, went down a hollow track blocked by felled trees, vehicles, harrows and ploughs, and we got past these only after considerable difficulty and under fire from the Prussians hidden behind the hedges, which were extremely thick. Eventually we overcame these obstacles and, firing as we went, entered the village. When we reached the church our advance was halted by a stream, and the enemy, in houses, behind walls and on rooftops, inflicted considerable casualties, as much by musketry as by grapeshot and cannonballs, which took us from front and flank.
In a moment, Major Hervieux, commanding the regiment, and two battalion commanders, Richard and Lafolie, had been killed; another battalion commander, Blain by name, was slightly wounded and had his horse killed under him; five captains were killed and three wounded, two adjutants and nine lieutenants and sub-lieutenants were killed, seven wounded, and close on seven hundred rank and file killed and wounded.20
Despite such crippling casualties (François’s regiment eventually lost no less than two thirds of its fighting strength), French morale remained remarkably high, and when General Rome (the brigade commander) rode up and called for another effort the men obeyed, crying, “Vive I’Empereur!” Four times the battalion charged into Ligny only to be driven back on each occasion. But on the fifth attempt, led in person by General Rome, the Prussians were at last compelled to relinquish their forward positions.
Whilst the 30th Line Regiment was carrying out its first attack, the Emperor turned to Soult and requested him to send a new message to Ney. It was now clear that the bulk of Blücher’s army was committed to fight; the French left wing must accordingly move up at once to turn the Prussian flank. Dated “in front of Fleurus, 3:15
P.M., June 16, 1815,” this missive ran as follows.
Marshal—I wrote to you an hour ago to inform you that, at 2:30
P.M., the Emperor would attack the position taken up by the enemy between the villages of St. Amand and Brye. At this moment the action is in full swing.
His Majesty desires me to tell you that you are to maneuver immediately in such a manner as to envelop the enemy’s right and fall upon his rear; the fate of France is in your hands.
Thus do not hesitate even for a moment to carry out the maneuver ordered by the Emperor, and direct your advance on the heights of Brye and St. Amand so as to cooperate in a victory that may well turn out to be decisive. The enemy has been caught in the very act of carrying out his concentration with the English.21
No sooner was this missive on its way than news arrived from Quatre Bras revealing that Ney was already in action against approximately 20,000 opponents. It was thus clearly out of the question to expect Ney to bring all his forces eastwards to outflank Blücher’s right, and according to most accounts of the battle Napoleon at once scrawled a third directive in pencil requiring Ney to send up only d’Erlon’s 1st Corps. Very belatedly, too, the Emperor suddenly remembered Lobau’s neglected 10,000 men, who had spent the whole day without any orders whatsoever near Charleroi. He promptly ordered the Vlth Corps to march on Fleurus, presumably to reinforce the Ligny battleline and compensate for the inevitable weakening of Ney’s direct contribution to the Ligny battle. Now there was no reason why the strategic reserve should not have been moved to the intermediate position of Mellet during the morning, from whence it would have been easily able to intervene in either battle. That this obvious step was overlooked is a telling criticism of the Emperor’s generalship.
Concerning the scribbled note to Ney, a remarkable contention has sprung up. The actual document did not survive the action; and the historian Becke has boldly claimed that Napoleon never wrote it at all. Becke argues that it was probably the work of General de la Bedoyère, one of the Imperial aides-decamp, who, riding up to deliver a duplicate of one of Napoleon’s orders to Ney, found d’Erlon’s corps moving north instead of east and promptly wrote down an order in the Emperor’s name to save any further waste of time. The fact that Napoleon had no idea whose troops they were that suddenly loomed on Vandamme’s flank about 5:30
P.M.—a full hour before he expected reinforcements and in any case in wholly the wrong direction—would seem to support this case to some extent. However, General Fuller and other commentators accept the validity of the note, and blame Napoleon’s atrocious handwriting for the failure of d’Erlon to move on the intended objective. Whoever was the author of the celebrated message, it undoubtedly led to the strange peregrinations of the 1st Corps and to its ultimate failure to engage at either Ligny or Quatre Bras, in either of which battles its intervention could have been decisive. This matter will be examined below when we again consider the fighting at Quatre Bras.
Meanwhile the frontal attack at Ligny raged as furiously as ever. St.-Amand-la-Haye changed hands almost as many times as Ligny itself. General of Division Girard was killed at St. Amand, and it took herculean efforts on the part of IVth Corps—as we have already related—to capture even part of Ligny. However, despite heavy losses, the Emperor’s grand tactics were having their desired effect. By 5:00
P.M. Blücher had been compelled to commit almost all his reserves into battle, while Napoleon still had almost 10,000 of his men in a fresh condition; that is to say, 58,000 French troops were successfully holding down 84,000 Prussians.
Imagining that he could hear the roar of d’Erlon’s cannon in the distance, the Emperor decided that the moment for the supreme effort had come. “Send up the Guard,” came the order—and by six o’clock the impressive ranks of the “Immortals” were in position ready to administer the coup de grâce. Then, at the very moment when Napoleon was on the point of launching them forward, a harassed General Vandamme arrived. He announced that an unidentified column
of troops—perhaps 20,000 strong and presumably hostile—had suddenly appeared on his left flank. The unchecked report of a single scout that “they are enemies” had served to unnerve Vandamme, and his men became increasingly panicky under the imagined threat posed by the newcomers. Napoleon knew that he could not take a risk at this critical moment of the battle; he forthwith suspended the Guard attack and at once dispatched Duhesme’s division of the Young Guard to support Vandamme’s wavering ranks, while a number of aides were sent off at full gallop to investigate the enigmatic newcomers.
During this unexpected but no less welcome respite, General Blücher did everything in his power to re-form his almost shattered line, gathering every possible unit for an extemporized counterattack. By this time the Prussian commander in chief had reconciled himself to the fact that Wellington would not be coming to his aid that day, and had realized that his only hope of survival was to hang on grimly until nightfall in the hope that the morrow would bring both Bülow and Wellington to his assistance. The Prussian rank and file were fighting magnificently, even though for many of them it was their first battle, but the strain was now beginning to tell as the dauntless French launched attack after attack against the crumbling Prussian positions.
By 6:30
The Campaigns of Napoleon Page 127
