Chapter 2

Napoleon, Ney and Soult

Before we examine the battle of Quatre Bras and the operations that led up to it, it is important that we examine the motivations, capabilities and mindset of the two principal actors, Napoleon and Marshal Ney, as they play a large part in our understanding of why things turned out the way they did. Just as the various manoeuvres, skirmishes and deployments prior to a battle determine its shape, so these traits shape the way these key commanders made their decisions and acted. Given the criticism that Napoleon heaped on some of his lieutenants after the campaign, principally Ney and Grouchy, we need to try and empathise with the central characters in order to judge whether such criticism is justified.

From humble origins Ney had enjoyed a meteoric rise through the ranks of the French army. Joining the 4th Hussars in 1790 aged twenty-one, he was a sergeant major just two years later and commissioned the same year. As a cavalry commander he quickly established himself as a leader of dash and courage. The future Marshal Bernadotte commented, ‘Ney will go far if he doesn’t kill himself first.’ He fought under Moreau in these early stages and was no admirer of the young Bonaparte as the future emperor first started to establish his reputation. Ney was made génèral de brigade at twenty-six, after only five years in the army, and génèral de division in 1799. By this time he had shown himself to be a leader of guile, in his capture of Wurzburg and Mannheim, and a determined and effective commander of an advance- or rear-guard. He had already been wounded a number of times.

His achievements soon came to the notice of Napoleon and, although his allegiance to Moreau, who some saw as Napoleon’s rival for power, could have caused lasting damage to his career, the future emperor realised that this was a man he needed. In 1802 Ney’s growing reputation was enhanced by his invasion of Switzerland and from then on he took a leading role in most of Napoleon’s campaigns, fighting against Austria in 1805, Prussia in 1806 and Russia in 1807. Throughout these campaigns he showed himself to be a brave and aggressive commander, but there were also occasions, most notably at Jena and during the winter of 1807, when he could be rash and prepared to ignore orders, even from the emperor himself. Sent to Spain in 1808, he performed well when under Napoleon’s direct command, but once the emperor had returned to France, Ney became an unruly subordinate to both Soult and Massena. Happiest in action, he quickly gained a reputation as thoroughly insubordinate, quarrelsome and uncooperative. Eventually relieved of his command in 1811 by an exasperated Massena, he was recalled to France to face the wrath of Napoleon.

As frustrated as Napoleon must have been by Ney’s behaviour in Spain, the emperor was soon to have need of him. Once again under the supervision of Napoleon, Ney led a corps into Russia in 1812 and took a leading role at both Smolensk and at Borodino. Perhaps his crowning achievement was his command of the army’s rear-guard during the retreat. Cut off from the main body and presumed lost, he led it back to the army to the astonishment and approbation of all. His reputation amongst the rank and file was unrivalled except by Napoleon himself.

Ney’s command of the rear-guard in Russia had shown that he was at his best with his back to the wall, fighting almost as an equal amongst his men with outstanding courage and resolve. But as the war continued into Germany, his suitability for the highest levels of command came under scrutiny. Whilst the surprise of his corps at Lutzen could hardly be blamed solely on him, he did not appear to fully comprehend his crucial role at Bautzen as the commander of the left wing and was humiliated as an independent army commander at Dennewitz. At the latter battle, he was accused of ‘acting like a lieutenant in a general’s cloak’, showing no understanding of the wider strategic implications of the situation whilst becoming fixated by the lower-level tactical direction of the battle. He could not resist getting drawn into the fighting and this was a charge he faced many times in his career, perhaps confirming his unsuitability as an independent, high-level commander. After his defeat he was severely criticised by Napoleon and it is evident that this was deeply felt. These shortcomings were to be evident in 1815.

After his failure at Dennewitz, Ney was drawn back under Napoleon’s direct control and was present at the climactic battle of 1813 at Leipzig, where he commanded the northern sector of the battlefield. Another example of poor judgement resulted in him being overwhelmed by superior numbers and, in desperate fighting, he was shot in the shoulder and eventually evacuated from the battlefield.

It was January 1814 before Ney was fit to rejoin the army. Threatened by invasion, Napoleon welcomed him back and gave him command of two divisions of the Young Guard. Although he fought with his usual bravery operating directly under Napoleon’s eye, at the battle of Craonne Ney once again showed his predilection for committing his troops too early in a rash attack and they paid a terrible price. The French historian Robert Margerit wrote of Ney in 1814 that ‘he re-entered France sick of fighting, sick of Napoleon, sick of a regime that was incompatible with peace.’1 As the allied armies bore down on Paris, Ney took a leading part in forcing Napoleon to abdicate. It was also he who delivered the abdication to Czar Alexander.

Ney was quick to be courted by the returning Louis XVIII and enjoyed the opportunity to relax with his family and bask in the glory of his military reputation and the honours he had earned (Duc d’Elchingen and Prince de la Moskowa). However, he quickly became disillusioned by the policies and behaviour of the émigrés who ignored his advice and treated him, and particularly his wife, with contempt in court. When Napoleon’s escape from Elba was announced he found himself in a difficult position; apparently snubbed by the new regime, yet horrified by the potential implications of Napoleon’s return, he seemed to foresee the catastrophe that awaited France. Bound by his oath of loyalty he was one of the first of Napoleon’s former marshals to offer his sword to the king, famously promising to bring Napoleon back to Paris in an iron cage. However, as he travelled south he reflected on the slights he had suffered under the Bourbons, the glory and rewards heaped upon him by Napoleon and saw for himself how the whole army and even much of the population rejoiced in Napoleon’s return. He increasingly began to question his own loyalties and when he was finally approached by Napoleon’s emissaries, he quickly transferred his allegiance back to the emperor he had been instrumental in deposing.

Although apparently embraced by Napoleon, the emperor, after an initial warm welcome (perhaps more to feed the enthusiasm of the assembled soldiers than as a true display of reconciliation), then appeared to keep Ney at arm’s length. Napoleon had clearly not forgiven the marshal for his leading role in the revolt of the marshals and his abdication of the previous year, and his apparent rehabilitation was nothing more to Napoleon than a popular move that would help to re-establish his rule. On his return to Paris, Ney found the emperor ‘too busy’ to see him and he was sent off around the north of France and the Swiss frontier rallying support. On his return he was given a frosty reception by Napoleon and he must have realised that he had still to earn the emperor’s forgiveness. In the following weeks Ney was almost ostracised from the centre of events and we can only begin to imagine what was going through his mind; whilst perhaps he was clear on the reason, he must have agonised over what would be the outcome of it all. He had seriously compromised himself with the Bourbons and should Napoleon fall the consequences to himself could be fatal, and yet he seemed to have gained nothing from throwing in his lot with the emperor.

Ney fulfilled only a bit-part during the pomp and ceremony of the awarding of the regimental eagles on the Champ de Mai and he returned home convinced that he did not feature in the emperor’s plans. He no doubt realised that the emperor’s loyalty and trust in him was badly, if not irrevocably, shaken. On 4 June he left Paris for his country estate of Coudreaux. But just as he had resigned himself to the fact that he would take no part in the upcoming campaign, on 11 June Ney received a letter from Marshal Davout, the minister for war. It included a note from Napoleon which said, ‘Send for Marshal Ney and tell him that if he wishes to be present for the first battles, he ought to be at Avesnes on the fourteenth.’

Ney must have been stunned to receive such a summons. Perhaps unsurprisingly, he was horribly ill-prepared to go on campaign and was still unsure about how he would be employed. He had only a single aide, Colonel Heymès, and few horses. Heymès takes up the story:

At 9am on the morning of the 12th, after having sent off his horses and war carriages, the marshal entered his carriage with Colonel Heymès, his senior aide de camp. He left by post . . .

The marshal arrived at Laon at 10pm; the emperor was asleep and he did not see him.

On the 13th, the marshal spent the night at Avesnes; he arrived there in the morning, immediately joined the emperor and dined with him.

On the 14th, all the post horses were reserved for the emperor’s service and the marshal was unable to obtain any. It was only at 10am that he finally found some local horses and was able to leave Avesnes; but the road was so bad, so full of troops and his horses pulled him so slowly that he did not reach Beaumont until 10pm. The emperor was sleeping and he could not see him. There were no lodgings for him so M. D’Aure, the army intendant génèral offered him a room where he spent the night.

On the 15th, the troops set off on their march and the emperor left Beaumont at 2am. The marshal did not immediately follow him, having to wait until he acquired some horses.

However, having learnt, about 10am, that Marshal Mortier had remained sick in this town, Ney went to see him and bought two horses from him. Colonel Heymès arranged things so they could start off, followed by a domestic, the carriages remaining in Beaumont.

The marshal, moving along the marching column, was acclaimed in the most flattering way by the old soldiers who rejoiced in having the ‘rougeot’ amongst them, who had so often led them to victory.

At 7pm, the marshal rejoined the emperor beyond Charleroi, at the junction of the roads to Brussels and Fleurus.

‘Hello Ney,’ this Prince said to him, ‘I am pleased to see you: you are to take command of the 1st and 2nd Infantry Corps . . .’

The wishes of the marshal had been answered; he had a command, but he forgot that there is nothing worse for a general than to take command of an army the day before a battle. He left the emperor and an hour later he was at the head of the II Corps . . .2

Napoleon’s late decision to employ Ney suggests a number of possibilities, and had a number of implications, which should not be ignored. It is intriguing to reflect on whether these also went through Marshal Ney’s mind.

Firstly, Napoleon found himself short of employable and trustworthy marshals. Some had refused to serve him, some had remained loyal to the king and went into exile with him, some were prepared to serve, but could not be trusted, and others were getting too old to campaign. Only Grouchy was deemed worthy of immediate promotion; d’Erlon, Vandamme, Gérard, and probably others, aspired to being awarded the baton, but no doubt Napoleon wanted that ambition to motivate them on the coming campaign. Davout, although probably the most effective fighting marshal, was appointed as minister of war; Soult, a proven, effective army commander, was employed as the army chief-of-staff and Suchet, one of the few marshals whose reputation was actually enhanced in Spain, was charged with facing down the Austrians as commander of the Army of the Alps. This left only the tough-fighting Mortier and the newly-promoted Grouchy available for field commands in the Armée du Nord (as the main army had been named).

It is quite possible that when he recalled Ney, Napoleon had still not decided how, or perhaps even if, he was going to employ him. After all, despite his warm welcome on the 13th at Avesnes, Napoleon had not offered Ney a command less than thirty-six hours before the army crossed the border into Belgium. Was it possible that Napoleon only relented after he was informed that Mortier’s illness prevented him from campaigning, and thus that the emperor was forced to appoint Ney against his better judgement? Whilst we may never know, perhaps this thought also occurred to Ney.

Throughout his campaigns Napoleon had been given many examples of Ney’s shortcomings as a commander; indeed, in 1808 he had likened the marshal’s understanding of Napoleonic strategy to that of ‘the most recently joined drummer boy’.3

However, Napoleon well knew and valued Ney’s personal courage and example. Well directed and supervised, there were few better men to personally lead a decisive attack, and, possibly for this reason alone, Napoleon felt that Ney was of real value on the battlefield. If Mortier had been fit, Ney might well have been employed as one of Napoleon’s ADCs, who had traditionally been used to lead desperate attacks that were designed to swing the battle in Napoleon’s favour. Of Waterloo, Napoleon wrote in his memoirs:

Marshal Ney received the honour of commanding the big attack in the centre. It could not have been entrusted to a braver man, nor to one more accustomed to this kind of thing.4

In his epic book, The Campaigns of Napoleon, David Chandler suggests another, perhaps more subtle reason for rehabilitating Ney.

Nevertheless, Napoleon’s decision to appoint Ney to high command in 1815 was an act of considerable cunning. Not only was Ney the hero of the French army, he was also a figure of propaganda for use against the Bourbon cause. On the one hand it was a calculated blow against King Louis XVIII’s prestige to re-employ the former Bourbon commander in chief; on the other, Ney’s preferment might serve to persuade other servants of the Bourbons that their acts of desertion in 1814 could be overlooked in return for new tokens of devoted service to Napoleon’s cause. Thus on political grounds there was quite a lot to recommend Ney’s appointment in 1815 . . .5

Finally, Napoleon was well aware of Ney’s popularity throughout the army and since the retreat from Moscow his bravery had been a legend in the army; Colonel Heymès has already told us of the reception the marshal received as he passed the marching troops. On 13 March, Ney had his whole command, some 6,000 men, parade just outside Lons-le-Saulnier, where they had marched to confront Napoleon. Here, in one large square, Ney announced that the Bourbon cause had been lost forever and that he was going to march them to join the emperor. Whilst some officers chose to leave, the vast majority were ecstatic and the marshal’s popularity was manifest. Sergeant Major Sylvain Larreguy de Civrieux of the 93rd Line Regiment was only nineteen years old and witnessed the expression of this affection: ‘The ranks instantly broke up, the cavalry abandoned their horses, and we surrounded the Prince of the Moskowa to embrace him, shake his hand, touch his uniform, his sword . . .’6

But one more important factor must also be taken into account: whatever Ney’s failings as a senior commander, and whatever his enthusiasm and psychological readiness for war, he was certainly ill-prepared to take up such a position. He took command of his wing on the afternoon of 15 June, just as the lead elements were moving into contact, a day after the army had crossed the frontier and the day before a major action. He had only one ADC, with another on the way to join him, and no headquarters or staff officers. Colonel Heymès was therefore required to act as chief of a non-existent staff and Ney had to use officers of the various cavalry regiments to transmit his orders. He did not know who his subordinate commanders were, let alone the composition of their formations. This was hardly adequate preparation for such a significant command.

So what was Napoleon getting when he chose to re-employ Marshal Ney, and what frame of mind was the marshal in going into the campaign? Napoleon well knew the true worth and failings of probably the most popular and charismatic of his subordinates. By nature he was an inspirational leader, popular with his troops, energetic and aggressive. As a battlefield commander he was fearless (as his nickname of the ‘bravest of the brave’ suggests), but often rash and impulsive. As a subordinate he could be sullen, insubordinate and uncooperative. His record suggests that he was ill-fitted for independent command; often failing to see the bigger picture and rarely prepared to stand back and make calm, rational decisions, especially in a crisis. In 1815 he was thrust, unprepared and at short notice, into the midst of operations with no headquarters or staff officers. He was certainly distracted and possibly preoccupied with what his fate would be, totally bound up as he was with the outcome of the campaign and Napoleon’s own fate. It will be interesting to see how these traits became manifest in this, his last campaign.

There is no need to examine Napoleon’s career in a book with such a narrow focus and it is probably fair to say that both admirers and even detractors would agree that whatever his other faults he stands as one of history’s greatest military leaders. But 1815 was some years after he reached the pinnacle of his military accomplishments, which are generally agreed to be between 1805 and 1807, and it is the extent to which his strategic genius and his physical and psychological health declined from that period which often most occupies the minds of historians of the 1815 campaign. In 1809 Austria had given a far better account of herself than in previous campaigns and Napoleon’s invasion of Russia in 1812 had been a disaster which destroyed his veteran army. But his genius still burned brightly; against all the odds he rebuilt a huge army in 1813 and was only beaten by overwhelming allied numbers and the relative incompetence of his lieutenants. With France invaded the following year, Napoleon, with a small, rather polyglot army, performed magnificently, and although finally overwhelmed and forced to abdicate, is credited with fighting one of his finest campaigns.

At his first abdication in 1814 therefore, Napoleon had been campaigning almost non-stop for over two years with all the physical and mental stresses and strains that this would have imposed upon him, and it should be remembered that each of the three campaigns he had fought in had ended in defeat. It is impossible for us to fully understand the impact this had on him and perhaps we should forgive him if, exiled to the small island of Elba, he took the opportunity to relax. However, on arrival in his new kingdom, he immediately set himself to work improving the rundown economy, infrastructure and quality of life of the island. This energy dwindled only when he understood that he would not be joined by his wife and son, and his activity reduced with his disappointment and depression.

However, his mood lifted again as he learnt of the situation in France and began to believe that a return was viable. Certainly, when he did return, the speed with which he marched on Paris and the energy and decisiveness with which he put the country onto a war footing after the neglect of the Bourbons was reminiscent of him at his peak. As we shall see, the detail of his planning for the upcoming campaign did not suggest that his intellect had in any way been impaired, and although he was accused of a lack of decisiveness at critical points in the four days of operations leading up to Waterloo, we must wait to examine the evidence before we decide if these charges are appropriate.

However, there is no doubt that Napoleon’s sojourn on Elba altered his physical condition; many of his closest followers noticed the changes on his return. Colonel Crabbé, who later served on Ney’s staff, wrote on 15 June, ‘The emperor appears tired to me. He is very fat, seems out of breath and sometimes struggles to mount his horse.’7 Adjutant commandant Petiet, who served in imperial headquarters, leaves us this description:

During his sojourn on Elba, Napoleon’s stoutness had increased considerably. His head had acquired a great volume, it was sunken into his shoulders and he was fatter than normal for a man of forty five. Also, it was noticeable that during this campaign he did not remain mounted as long as on previous ones. When he dismounted, either to examine his maps, or to send or receive information, his staff made available a small table of light wood and a rough seat of the same sort on which he sat and remained there for long periods.8

Whilst some described his stoutness and unhealthy appearance, a number of different maladies have also been attributed to Napoleon, including haemorrhoids and dysuria (a urinary disease), whilst David Chandler, a much-respected Napoleonic historian, believes, from his symptoms, that he was suffering from acromegaly (a disease of the pituitary gland, among the symptoms of which are fits of lassitude and spasms of over-optimism), although there appears to be no corroborating evidence for this. Although he did seem to be suffering physically from one or more ailments, he displayed great energy at times during this short campaign.

However, whilst there is some evidence of physical resilience, and Napoleon’s intellect seemed as sharp as ever, there remain concerns over his judgement and decisiveness. Perhaps his state of mind is a better indication of his performance during the 100 days than his health? Whilst we have seen how Napoleon criticised his lieutenants for their lack of enthusiasm and energy, the emperor appears to be guilty of bouts of apathy. He later wrote, ‘I sensed that Fortune was abandoning me. I no longer had in me the feeling of ultimate success, and if one is not prepared to take risks when the time is ripe, one ends up doing nothing – and, of course, one should never take a risk without being sure that one will be lucky.’ Once again, the reader will need to decide whether, on the evidence presented, the Napoleon of 1815 was the same as the Napoleon of 1805.

In his final campaign, it is claimed that one of Napoleon’s biggest handicaps was the absence of his very experienced and trusted chief-of-staff, Marshal Berthier. Indeed, Berthier had served as the emperor’s chief-of-staff, or the major-génèral as his post was properly called, for eighteen years, and had long proven to be the perfect foil for the emperor’s genius. He had the ability to translate Napoleon’s schemes and verbal briefings into lucid, understandable and comprehensive orders and had organised a system to ensure that those orders got to the right destinations in a timely manner. His decision not to join Napoleon on his return has been widely, but never convincingly, debated. Berthier himself did not get the opportunity to enlighten us as he died in mysterious circumstances in Bamberg on 19 May, before the campaign opened. His controversial replacement was to be Marshal Jean de Dieu Soult, Duc de Dalmatie.

Soult had proven to be an extremely capable independent army commander and was clearly very ambitious. He was one of the last marshals to pledge allegiance to Louis after Napoleon’s first abdication and was initially judged as untrustworthy by the royalists. However, his reputation for hard work and organisational skills eventually saw him appointed Minister for War. Soult found himself in an impossible position; although admired by the king he was seen by Bonapartist officers as a traitor, and many royalists believed this too. His failed attempts to counter Napoleon’s march on Paris further entrenched the opinions of both parties and Soult was forced to resign.

Content to retire to his estates, Soult rejected Napoleon’s initial approaches. But he was too good a soldier for the emperor to ignore, and Napoleon also probably saw him as a political prize. But Soult’s ambition and reluctance to stand back as immense events were happening around him forced him to rethink and he finally accepted the emperor’s invitation. His appointment as major-génèral has been widely criticised; it was certainly true that he had proved himself a more able field commander than Ney or Grouchy, and also that he had the most experience in fighting against the British, but it was not true that he had no experience as a staff officer. He had spent ten months as major-génèral to King Joseph in Spain between 1809 and 1810 (including the coordinating role that led to the battle of Ocaña, probably the greatest French victory in the Peninsula, and the invasion of Andalusia) and for a few months in 1813 he had worked for the old master, Berthier himself. Soult also had proven administrative skills, evident both in Spain and as minister of war to Louis, so although there may have been better candidates, the appointment was not as inexplicable as many have maintained. Napoleon, who as we have heard was very critical of the performance of most of his key subordinates after Waterloo, actually praised Soult as his major-génèral. Even the French historian Thiers, a fierce supporter of the emperor in his criticisms against his lieutenants after the end of the campaign, wrote that Soult, ‘possessed most of the qualities of a chief-of-staff, less the ‘‘clarity of spirit’’ and experience of this position, but did not, like Berthier, double or triple the despatch of orders in order to be sure of their safe delivery.’9 The implications of this latter failing were quick to manifest themselves as the campaign opened. General Guyot, commander of the Heavy Cavalry division of the Imperial Guard, put it like this, ‘If the enthusiasm [of the army] was clear, its organisation lacked efficiency. Marshal Soult, who had replaced Marshal Berthier as major-génèral, did not have the same precision, nor the same speed in writing out Napoleon’s orders; his messengers – their horses in particular – were of mediocre quality.’10

Colonel Crabbé, who started work in the headquarters before being allocated to Ney as an ADC, wrote:

12 June. I am presented to Marshal Soult who is at St Quentin. The atmosphere in General Headquarters is not that which reigned there when Prince Berthier was found at its head. There was, it seemed, less strictness, less calm and efficiency. There were also less qualified officers.11

As the army chief-of-staff, Soult was responsible for writing and distribution of the orders and direction given for the army by Napoleon. As such, we must also examine the clarity and precision of Soult’s work if we are to judge Napoleon’s performance during this short campaign, for it is vital that we are clear on whose fault it was if there were any omissions or mistakes in the orders and direction given to Marshal Ney and the other senior commanders of the left wing.