Directly the army has formed up, and soon after 1:00
P.M., the Emperor will give the order to Marshal Ney and the attack will be delivered on Mont-St.-Jean village in order to seize the crossroads at that place. To this end the 12-pounder batteries of the IInd and VIth Corps will mass with that of the Ist Corps. These 24 guns will bombard the troops holding Mont-St.-Jean, and Count d’Erlon will begin the attack by first launching the left division, and, when necessary, supporting it by other divisions of the Ist Corps.
The IInd Corps will also advance, keeping abreast of the Ist Corps.
The company of engineers belonging to the Ist Corps will hold themselves in readiness to barricade and fortify Mont-St.-Jean directly it is taken.
To this order Marshal Ney added a penciled note on the back: “Count d’Erlon will note that the attack will be delivered first by the left instead of beginning from the right. Inform General Reille of this change.”44
This document is revealing in several respects. First, it was clear that the Emperor was entrusting the actual handling of the battle to Marshal Ney. Secondly, there was no specific mention of the need to launch an all-out attack on Hougoumont by Reille’s IInd Corps. Thirdly, the inclusion of the instructions for d’Erlon’s sappers would seem to reveal that Napoleon was determined to cut the road to Brussels, thus severing Wellington’s line of retreat in that direction. All in all, the plan outlined by the Emperor showed scant subtlety; a single massive offensive supported by the merest handful of preliminary attacks was the recipe he ordered. There was no mention of emergency action or adaptations to meet the arrival of any Prussian forces. Above all, in leaving so much to Marshal Ney’s discretion Napoleon was endangering his chance of ultimate success from the very outset. True, it is not the duty of the commander in chief to interfere at the tactical level; but to entrust the unreliable Prince of the Moskowa with all the details of the engagement—after the errors he had made over the past three days—was surely foolhardy in the extreme. Some authorities assert that the French should have attempted to turn Wellington’s right flank rather than indulge in so straightforward an assault, but Napoleon needed a quick victory, while the sodden character of the ground would inevitably have delayed any elaborate maneuvering.
Every hour that passed in inactivity at Mont-St.-Jean was, of course, to Wellington’s advantage, for Blücher’s leading columns were rapidly drawing nearer. “Alte Vortwärts” and his chief of staff were still at odds concerning the amount of assistance they should afford Wellington. Gneisenau was still not convinced that a serious battle would develop at Waterloo and still desired to see the bulk of the Prussian army retained around Wavre to fight Grouchy—at least until noon. However, his superior officer was adamant that at least two of the four available corps should move at once toward the Allied army. Indeed, since daybreak General Bülow’s command had been heading westward for Chapelle-St.-Lambert, and soon after the Second Corps was similarly put in motion to follow in its tracks.
In a letter written at 9:30
A.M. to Baron Müffling, Blücher confirmed his earlier undertaking to assist at Waterloo. “Say in my name to the Duke of Wellington,” ran part of this missive, “that, ill as I am, I will march at the head of my army to attack without delay the right flank of the enemy, if Napoleon should attempt anything against the Duke. In case the French do not attack today, I am of the opinion that we should attack the French Army together tomorrow.”45 Suiting action to the word, the indomitable field marshal set out from Wavre at 11:00
A.M. and rode to the head of Billow’s corps, exhorting the men to further efforts with the words, “Lads, you will not let me break my word!” Gneisenau was left behind at Wavre to watch Grouchy’s movements, with authority to determine whether or not the remaining corps should follow Blücher. Thus the gallant old Prussian warrior hastened toward the scene of conflict, manifesting the greatest possible degree of loyalty to his ally as well as a commendable desire for offensive action.
Meanwhile, what of Grouchy? We left him last at about midday on the 17th, preparing to set out at long last to lead his men in pursuit of the elusive Prussian army. In fact it was not until 2:00
P.M. that his first formations got on the roads, and even then the rate of advance was so slow and cautious that Grouchy had only reached Gembloux by ten o’clock that evening. Here he decided to halt for the night and sent off the dispatch which reached Napoleon personally about 4:00
A.M. the next day as we have already recounted. Before the marshal finally retired for the night, however, cavalry patrols reported that Prussian troops were indubitably moving on Wavre. From this Grouchy deduced that at least part of the Prussian host was en route for Brussels, and determined to send Vandamme’s corps after them toward Sart-à-Walhain at 6:00
A.M. on the 18th, with Gérard following in his tracks two hours later. If only he had decided to move instead toward Gery and Moustier he would have placed his men in a good position to attack the flank of the Prussian troops on their way toward St. Lambert the next morning. But owing to a misappreciation of the enemy’s true intentions, Grouchy ordained otherwise.
Even then, on the morning of the 18th, his formations did not strain every nerve to carry out their orders. Instead of moving off at six, Vandamme was on the road only by eight, and this delay inevitably put back Gérard’s move to 9:00
A.M. Shortly after ten o’clock, however, Grouchy in person reached the IIIrd Corps near Walhain and dictated a note to Napoleon confirming that the Prussians were truly massing near Wavre, reaffirming that he would interpose his forces between Blücher and Wellington. In fact, of course, by this hour a substantial portion of the Prussian army was already well on its way to a junction with the “Iron Duke.”
Satisfied with the general trend of events, Grouchy settled down to a late breakfast. Hardly was he seated, however, than the sound of firing from the west was heard. General Gérard at once urged his superior to drop his present intentions and march without delay to the sound of the cannon—but suggested this in such a forthright and tactless way that he immediately put Grouchy’s back up. Referring to the Emperor’s last order to pursue Blücher, Grouchy rejected his subordinate’s advice. Yet Gérard was right; had he only moved westward—even at midday—Grouchy would have caught up with the Prussians over the River Dyle. The moment passed, however, and with it the chance of intercepting Bülow and Pirch, for by this hour the head of the leading Prussian column was already approaching Chapelle-St.-Lambert. Instead, the commander of the French right wing insisted on the literal interpretation of the Emperor’s last received orders, and sent his men forward toward Corbaix. This decision ultimately proved the ruin of Napoleon’s chances of victory at Waterloo.
The Battle of Waterloo, June 18, 1815: the early phases, 11 a.m. to 3 p.m.
The gunfire heard by Grouchy and his staff at 11:30
A.M. announced the opening of the Battle of Waterloo. At that hour, Prince Jerome’s division of Reille’s IInd Corps advanced to attack the advanced Allied position of Hougoumont. The intention of this attack—at least in the Emperor’s mind—was wholly diversionary. It was hoped that a strong demonstration toward the Allied left would induce Wellington to move reserves from his center and thus weaken the sector destined to receive the brunt of the main French attack. It was never intended that the affair around Hougoumont should become a full-scale engagement.
Unfortunately, Prince Jerome felt differently. Conscious of the family name and wishing to emulate his Imperial brother’s military reputation, he was determined to capture the objective, no matter at what cost. The leading four French regiments took more than an hour to drive the Allied defenders out of the approaches to Hougoumont—but even when the thickets had been cleared, the troops of Nassau and Hanover merely retired to the loopholed walls and buildings of the Château itself and continued a staunch resistance. By this time Jerome’s blood was fully roused, and against the advice of his staff he launched a series of desperate frontal
escalades against these extemporized but nevertheless formidable defenses. Heavy casualties were the only result of these endeavors, but still Jerome refused to admit a tactical setback. He should have done the following: call off the attack, pull his disordered brigades back to regroup and order his howitzers to destroy the Château. Instead, Jerome pigheadedly sent to General Foy for aid, and by 12:30
P.M. a substantial part of a second French division had been drawn into the almost pointless struggle.
By allowing the action around Hougoumont to escalate into a major struggle, Jerome committed a grave tactical blunder. For although successive British reinforcements from the Coldstream Guards under the command of Colonel Hepburn were sent into the Château—totaling 13 companies in all while the rest of Byng’s brigade (namely the Scots Guards) formed up in the adjacent orchard—the most decisive effect of the action was to tie down the greater part of Reille’s corps for most of the battle, while apart from the movement of this single brigade Wellington’s overall disposition of his troops was not greatly affected. Thus at the very outset, the French plan of battle was jeopardized and thrown off balance by the unrealistic determination of a divisional commander who failed to appreciate his true mission. The first grave tactical blunder of the day had been committed.
Meanwhile, Napoleon was massing a large battery of 84 guns to the front of his right center, ready to blast a gap in the Allied center preparatory to d’Erlon’s assault. To the 12-pounders originally designed for this task, the Emperor added the 24 “beautiful daughters” of the Guard artillery and the 40 8-pounders belonging to Ist Corps. Shortly after one o’clock this imposing battery opened a heavy and sustained fire on the central sectors of the Allied line. From the start, however, the effect of this bombardment was minimal. Apart from Bylandt’s exposed brigade and a few guns stationed on the crest, hardly a soldier of Wellington’s army was visible. Moreover, the softness of the ground prevented the roundshot from ricocheting and the cannonballs were often swallowed up into the soggy earth. In this way the initial bombardment of the French artillery failed to produce any notable effect.
D’Erlon’s corps was now forming up ready to advance—but shortly after one o’clock Napoleon all at once noticed signs of movement amongst the trees in the general direction of Chapelle-St.-Lambert. Could it be Grouchy, the generals on the staff conjectured? Any hopes on this score were abruptly dashed by the arrival of a patrol sent back by Colonel Marbot’s 7th Hussars.
This dashing officer, who has already figured prominently in earlier chapters, had been sent off about ten o’clock to the extreme right of the French line ostensibly to make contact with Grouchy’s vedettes. However, on arriving at Frischermont, Marbot was in for a considerable surprise. “Instead of Marshal Grouchy it was Billow’s corps which materialized!”46 A Prussian courier fell into the hands of Marbot’s men, and this orderly officer was conducted to the Emperor. The man was quite prepared to talk freely and at last the truth dawned. Thirty thousand Prussians were on their way to attack the weakly protected French right!
Napoleon took the news with his customary sang-froid. Not for one instant did he consider calling off the battle—although it still lay in his power to do so—in order to await the arrival of Grouchy before attempting a full-scale attack on the Allied position. He still felt he had both time and weight of force on his side, sufficient anyway to clinch a decisive victory against both Wellington and Bülow. Turning to Soult, he exclaimed: “This morning we had ninety chances in our favor. Even now we have sixty chances, and only forty against us.”
The Battle of Waterloo, June 18, 1815. French cuirassiers charge the British squares. (A reconstruction painted in 1874.)
Nevertheless, he ordered Soult to add a postscript to a new order about to be sent off to Grouchy in reply to his note of 10:00
A.M., generally approving his intention to move on toward Corbais. The addition ran as follows: “A letter which has just been intercepted states that General Bülow is about to attack our right flank. We believe that we can see the corps on the heights of St. Lambert. So do not lose a moment in drawing near to us, and effecting a junction with us, in order to crush Bülow whom you will catch in the very act of concentrating.”47 But in fact it was already too late to summon Grouchy to the field of Waterloo. Such an order would have had to have been sent off hours earlier to permit its implementation. Now, hopelessly optimistically, the Emperor expected Grouchy to receive his new orders within an hour. In fact they only reached him at 5:00
P.M., and by then it was out of the question for him to reach Waterloo in time to affect the issue.
It was clearly necessary to take some type of precautionary measures to protect the French right flank. Accordingly, the Emperor at once ordered Domont and Subservie to take their cavalry formations towards the threatened sector, and they were soon followed by the 10,000 infantry of Lobau’s VIth Corps. Count Lobau proceeded to draw up his men in a line between Planchenoit and the Paris Wood, thus creating a second front facing eastward. Several commentators have averred that he would have been better advised to place his corps in echelon to the rear of d’Erlon, from which position he would have been able to perform a double role—supporting d’Erlon’s 2:00
P.M. attack, and then taking post to repel, or rather check, the Prussian advance. In his defense, however, there is no reason to suppose that Lobau had any accurate knowledge of the distance still dividing the leading Prussian columns from the field, and therefore he was probably justified in concentrating on a purely defensive role. Even so, his 10,000 French troops would find themselves hard pressed when Bülow brought his 30,000 men into action.
While these precautionary moves were being undertaken, at 1:30
P.M. Napoleon ordered Ney to unleash d’Erlon’s attack. Within a few minutes, the four divisions of Ist Corps were setting out across the 1,300 yards separating them from Wellington’s left center. However, for some reason which has never been fully fathomed, d’Erlon adopted an outdated formation for their advance. Instead of advancing in handy battalion columns (colonnes de division par bataillon), which would have reduced the number of casualties during the initial approach march and also have facilitated a flexible deployment of the troops when they had come within musketry range, three of the four divisions formed up in massive colonnes de bataillon par division. This meant that each division advanced on a deployed battalion frontage—that is to say, with 200 men in the front rank—with each successive battalion marching behind, making a total depth of between 24 and 27 ranks. Perhaps it was a misunderstood order; more probably it was a deliberate decision, for such formations had been employed at Friedland and on certain other occasions. The disadvantages of this massive, unwieldy formation were perfectly apparent to Captain Duthilt of the 45th Regiment of the Line, marching in Marcognet’s column. “The Third [Division], to which my regiment belonged, had to advance like the others in deployed battalions, with only four paces between one and the next—a strange formation and one which cost us dear, since we were unable to form square against cavalry attacks, while the enemy’s artillery shot could plough through our formations to a depth of twenty ranks.”48 Only one divisional commander—General Durutte—had the good sense to adopt a more flexible formation, and it is noteworthy that this division, operating on the extreme right, had the greatest degree of success.
This employment of an outdated formation was bad enough, but it was not the only tactical blunder committed by the planners of this attack. Although the Grand Battery provided a heavy preparatory bombardment against Wellington’s left center (decimating Bylandt’s exposed brigade), there was no attempt to provide adequate cavalry support for the infantry assault. Only one brigade of cuirassiers (General Travers) was sent up at all, taking post on the left of Donzelot’s division. Yet it was customary in French tactics for a cavalry attack to precede that of the infantry in order to induce the opposition to form square and thus reduce his output of frontal fire.* In this instance, however, there w
as no attempt to coordinate a properly balanced attack. On two counts, therefore, d’Erlon’s chance of success was jeopardized from the beginning. In fairness to d’Erlon, however, it should be pointed out that a stout hedge ran along the crest of much of the ridge, through which the British gunners had hacked extemporized embrasures for the muzzles of their field pieces. Such a formidable obstacle can hardly have presented a tempting target for a large-scale cavalry charge.
Decimated by Allied artillery fire, the three divisions panted their way up the slope toward the crest of the ridge. For a brief moment it appeared that d’Erlon was going to succeed, despite the disadvantages he was laboring under. On the left of the attack, Donzelot came up to the defenses of La Haie Sainte before being halted in his ungainly formation by the hail of fire directed on his packed ranks by Major Baring’s battalion of the King’s German Legion; however, Travers’s cuirassiers spurred against one of Ompteda’s battalions and cut it to pieces. Further to the right, meanwhile, Alix’s and Marcognet’s columns were breasting the slope, and soon succeeded in routing the remnants of Bylandt’s shattered brigade; this attack also compelled the British to evacuate the gravelpit. Meanwhile, on the extreme right, General Durutte made the most of his more flexible dispositions and captured Frischemont and Papelotte from the Nassauers with relative ease, but admittedly these posts were only lightly held.
Had adequate cavalry been allotted to the attack—and Count Lobau in a supporting position—Wellington might well have been crushed by this initial onslaught as Napoleon intended. As it was, the situation was critical enough, but help was ready to hand. With the greatest sang-froid, Picton’s 4,000 redcoats moved up to the crest of the ridge. While Kempt’s brigade opened a murderous fire from a range of only 40 yards, Pack led his battalions forward in a devastating series of charges. Although Sir Thomas Picton was killed at this time, nothing could withstand the fury of his men’s onslaught, and within a few minutes the situation on the Allied left center was stabilized.
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