Aftermath

(Source)

The Emperor sat his horse, stunned, too stunned to move. Eventually Général De la Bédoyère got Napoléon's attention.

"Sire, we must get you away from here."

The Emperor nodded in disbelief, the attack by the Guard should have clinched the issue. Did Ney blunder again? Where was Grouchy? Turning to Maréchal Soult he said, "Still no word from Grouchy?"

"No, Sire, not a word." Soult braced himself for the Emperor's expected outburst. Nothing.

The Emperor looked pale and unsure of himself, for many around him, it was the first time they had seen him in such a mood. Even during the retreat from Russia, Napoléon tried to emanate confidence. Now that was gone.

The Emperor's aides managed to guide and lead him to a square of the Old Guard Grenadiers.

Capitaine Joseph Martin was limping badly as he led his men back across the bridge where he had been hit by a ricochet. The battalion surgeon had examined him and told him that it was probably some mortar or a brick from the bridge which had injured him, "Had it been a ball, you would not have that leg now."

Sergent Louis Malheur was keeping an eye on his captain, the man was too ready to rush headlong into combat. He looked at Caporal Hervé Deschamps who nodded, then yelled out, "Skirmishers, to me!"

Martin was startled as his men rushed past him, he wanted to go forward with them, but knew he couldn't, not on his bad leg.

Word had come down from battalion that the Prussians had pulled back in the night, having their flank turned down towards Limal had unhinged their position along the Dyle. So they had been ordered forward to prevent the Prussians sneaking back in during the small hours of the morning.

Malheur looked at his captain, "Smells like victory, Sir."

Martin saw the Prussian and French corpses strewn along the street, he shook his head, "It smells like something, Sergent."

Generalleutnant Johann von Thielmann watched as his corps fell back to the next defensible position, which in reality would be just to the east of Brussels. At the very least he could rejoin the main army under Blücher.

As he watched the rear guard cavalry charge at a French unit, he heard a commotion behind him. Turning his horse, he snapped at Clausewitz, "What is the meaning of ..." He noticed that Clausewitz was grinning from ear to ear.

"Herr Generalleutnant, a message from the Field Marshal himself, the Corsican Ogre has been defeated, his army flees even as we speak."

Thielmann took the message, read it, then he too began to smile.

"Have the men stop falling back. We stand here. Soon the French will know that their Emperor has been defeated. I will sacrifice no more men today, if I can help it."

Even as he watched, the French pursuit began to slow, then stop, then began to retreat southwards.

"Shall we pursue, Sir?"

"No, let the old man¹ have that honor. We shall proceed in good time."

The men were in a sullen mood as they fell back from Wavre. Martin had no words to boost their morale. With the Emperor defeated, with his wing of the army shattered, there was no hope that he could see.

The Prussians were not pursuing, which was the only good news that day. For the first time in the campaign, Maréchal de Grouchy began to move with decisiveness and alacrity.

All that was left was to withdraw into France, regroup with I and II Corps and the Garde. Perhaps a stand before Paris was likely.

Joseph Martin resolved to leave the army at his first opportunity. Back to his farm, back to his wife and child. The Emperor was ruined.

¹ Generalfeldmarschall von Blücher.