The Road to Brussels

Wellington at Waterloo
Robert Alexander Hillingford
Source

"How many, Sir William?"

Sir William Howe de Lancey consulted his notes, reports had been coming in since late afternoon of yesterday. They painted a grim picture.

"We have perhaps 40,000 men remaining, Your Grace. Though the reports are incomplete, I reckon that we have no more than 75 guns remaining to us."

The Duke of Wellington's horse, Copenhagen, pranced nervously, sensing his rider's state of mind. And in truth, the Duke was nervous. Things looked very bad and he had yet to hear any report from his Prussian allies.

"What of von Müffling,¹ any word from the Prussians?"

"No, Your Grace. All we know is that the Prussians suffered a massive defeat near Ligny. There are reports that they are retreating in great disorder and that the field marshal is dead."

"Blücher? Dead?"

"I'm afraid so, Your Grace."

Kellerman’s Cuirassiers capture the Colours of the British 69th Foot’s 2nd Battalion at Quatre Bras
Victor Huen
Source

Seven miles to the south of Wellington's headquarters, Wellington's 3rd Division, under Sir Charles Alten,² had reached the main Brussels road after hard marching from the direction of Nivelles. The sky had burst in the meantime, drenching the men as the rain came down hard. Amidst the thunder and the lightning, the 69th Regiment of Foot, being in the lead, gained the roadway only to discover that the French were approaching in great force.

The 69th formed square in a hurry but to no avail, they were still forming when they were hit by a sizeable force of French heavy cavalry emerging from the pouring rain. They were badly torn up and they lost one of their colors.

The remainder of Alten's division was still deploying when the main body of the French Armée du Nord hit them as they were trying to deploy.

De Lancey's estimate of 40,000 men dropped to around 35,000 as most of the 3rd Division was destroyed.

Napoleon I in 1814
Jean-Louis-Ernest Meissonier (PD)

The Emperor was on horseback, watching his triumphant army marching north. HIs doctor had given him just enough laudanum to somewhat quell the pain. But being in the saddle was not helping. After a division of Reille's had marched past, he dismounted and tried not to stagger as he entered an inn in Genappe, on the road to Brussels.

The dining room was a mess of bloody bandages, scraps of torn uniforms, and various bits and pieces of medical apparatus. The Dutch had been using the inn as a hospital during the action at Quatre Bras. According to one prisoner, the Prince of Orange himself had been treated here before being evacuated to Brussels.

Napoléon entered one of the larger rooms on the ground floor where Berthier had set up headquarters. He saw Davout, Ney, and Berthier huddled over a map. Soult should have been there, but was not.

"Where is Soult!?" he barked, though the laudanum was starting to make him feel drowsy, his temper was flaring.

"Sire, Maréchal Soult is forward, directing the fighting there, we caught an English division deploying alongside the road, Kellerman's heavies tore one regiment to pieces and drove the rest of the redcoats to disperse." Ney had answered the question.

"What are the casualties in my Guard, Ney?"

Ney drew himself erect and looked the Emperor directly in the eye, "Perhaps a thousand have fallen, Sire. The Guard covered themselves in glory."

"Damn it, Ney ..."

Before he could continue, Davout cut him off. "We have the victory, Sire. We can recruit more Guardsmen, the victory they bought you at Ligny made victory possible. Wellington's forces are on the run, scouts tell us that they seem to be gathering along the ridge before Mont St. Jean, but they don't have enough men to cover the position adequately."

The laudanum hit him, hard, his vision grew blurry, so he simply said, "Very well, carry on, I must lie down. Keep the army moving. Davout, drive the English out of Belgium!"

After the Emperor left, the three marshals all stood there, staring at each other until Berthier broke the silence.

"You all know what to do. I have messages from Gérard's chief of staff and from Lobau. What is left of III Corps is marching to join us. What was left of Lobau's men after their gallant stand against the Prussians at Namur remains on that battlefield in case the Prussians wish to try again. Vandamme and d'Erlon are driving what remains of the Prussians before them. A few formed units are marching north to Wavre, Vandamme will destroy them with two divisions while d'Erlon continues to push towards Liege. I will give you further orders, if necessary, once the Emperor awakens."

Source

A dismounted officer of horse artillery raised his helmet as the Duke trotted past. Wellington nodded but kept riding on, he had to reach the field at Mont St. Jean before nightfall. The French were driving hard up the road, even in the torrential downpours which kept popping up. He feared that he wouldn't have enough men to hold the ridge and began to consider pulling back to the fortifications around Brussels.

Those fortifications were in a sad state, having gone unmaintained for a number of years. He felt that he had no choice but to make a stand on the ridge to the south of his headquarters. He had already sent a message to King Louis XVIII and his court at Ghent, recommending in the strongest terms that they evacuate across the Channel, back to England.

As he rode, he saw a party of horsemen, in Prussian uniforms, coming up from the south. He recognized his liaison officer, von Müffling. The man reined in next to the Duke.

"Your Grace, bad news I'm afraid ..."

"Blücher, the field marshal, is he ..."

"Dead, Your Grace, as is von Gneisenau, his chief of staff. The headquarters was overrun north of Sombreffe by French dragoons, all were killed or taken prisoner."

"What of your forces?"

"A single corps, that of von Pirch, is marching on Wavre, but the French are hot on their heels, giving them no rest. Thielmann's corps is south of Namur, I don't know anything more than that."

"What of Bülow, and Zieten, are they ..."

"Bülow has withdrawn into the defenses at Liege and refuses to move, Zieten's corps was destroyed at Ligny, Zieten is dead, the remainder of his forces either rotting on the field or marching south as French captives. My apologies, Your Grace, it seems as if my country has no more role to play in this campaign."

The Duke of Wellington sat upon Copenhagen, afraid to speak for fear of losing his temper. He watched as von Müffling and his party rode north. Then he turned to de Lancey.

"Sir William, we must make haste for, what's the name of the farm?"

"La Haye Sainte, Your Grace."

Leaning in so that no one else would hear, he whispered, "Evacuate the people from Brussels, I want Bonaparte to hold no British civilians hostage should we lose this gamble."

"Yes, Your Grace. And for the government?"

"Tell them nothing, lest they panic prematurely."

¹ Karl Freiherr von Müffling, Wellington's liaison with the Prussian army.

² Lieutenant-General Count Sir Charles Alten, a Hanoverian officer serving with the British army, his division consisted of a mix of British and Hanoverian regiments.