2. The French Corps in 1815.—The French Corps in the 1815 Campaign were more independent than the Prussian Corps—that is to say, each corps, except Lobau’s, was provided with sufficient cavalry and artillery to enable it to act by itself. Each corps had a Light Cavalry Division; but in Grouchy’s force, the Cavalry Division (Domon’s) belonging to Vandamme’s Corps, with its horse battery, had been detached to the left wing. Gérard’s Corps had its complete parts, but the Seventh Cavalry Division attached to it numbered only 758 men; little more than a modern regiment. The Reserve Cavalry Division, under Jacquinot, also attached to Gérard’s Corps, numbered 1608 men, so that the two together would only make a modern brigade. In artillery, the corps, for those days, were well provided; and each corps also had its own engineers, from 140 to 200 strong.
3. Chapter III. Pursuits after a Battle.—A general who wins a battle must make every effort to obtain the greatest possible advantages from his victory; he must closely pursue the defeated enemy with cavalry, artillery, and infantry; he must spare no one until the retreat has been turned into a rout. Of the two sides, the vanquished are the more exhausted; and the effects of defeat are so demoralising that, when followed by pursuit, every vestige of organisation or power of resisting vanishes. Men whose backs are turned on a victorious enemy who is treading on their heels, harassing their flanks, and cutting them down or capturing them by thousands, will think of nothing but their personal safety. The more time that is left to the retreating force, the more rear-guard positions it will be able to take up, and every rear-guard action gives time for the retreat to be carried further and in greater security. A timid pursuit is almost worse than none. Every nerve must be strained to make the most of the situation.
Yet, in history, how many instances are there in which pursuits have been carried out? What are the reasons which account for so many battles ending without a pursuit? There are few instances, indeed, where it has been possible for the victor to follow up his victory as is advised in the books. To mention the most noted cases:—The pursuit of the French after Waterloo; the pursuit after Jena; the cavalry advance on Cairo after Tel-el-Kebir; and, most recently, the battles of the Yalu and at Telissu, in the Russo-Japanese War. But how easy it is to recall cases where pursuit has not followed the victory:—Wagram, Friedland, Vittoria, Cannae, Malplaquet, Albuera, Spicheren, Bull Run, and the case treated in this volume, among scores of others.
Many Generals have failed to take the opportunity when it was offered; Hannibal himself was one of them. But in most of the cases there have been strong reasons for the hesitation in pursuing. After a long and fiercely-contested battle, both sides are exhausted; and there may be no fresh troops at hand to carry out the pursuit. There may be heavy rains, making the road impassable; there may be a lack of mounted troops. Most of Wellington’s victories in the Peninsular War were so dearly bought that his troops were far too exhausted themselves to think of pursuing the enemy. After Malplaquet Marlborough’s army was in no condition to follow up the victory, and the French were able to retreat in fair order and unmolested. After Spicheren, the Prussians were too exhausted to pursue, and the French withdrew in security. But after Ligny Napoleon should have pursued, at least at daybreak on the 17th. It has been shown that he had a strong force of cavalry, as well as Lobau’s Corps, available for the pursuit, and with these he could have driven Thielemann from Sombreffe. His cavalry would have threatened the Prussian flanks and rear, while Lobau’s infantry would have attacked in front. During the night it was perhaps unwise and unsafe to pursue, owing to Thielemann’s firm front, and to the enormous risks of a pursuit by night. No one knew better than Napoleon the value of pressing hard on a vanquished foe, and it is impossible to explain why he spent the morning of the 17th in trivialities. A day later, and he himself realised the position of a defeated general closely and mercilessly pursued by the victors.
Grouchy cannot be blamed for failing to pursue the Prussians on the night of the 16th. He was directly under the Emperor’s orders, and he only received his independent command on the morning of the 17th. At 11 P.M., on the night of the 16th, he had been ordered to send Pajol and Excelmans in pursuit of the Prussians at daybreak, but no direction was given to him. And when it was found that Thielemann’s men still held Sombreffe, the cavalry took no further action that night.
Blucher, on the 18th, found it possible to pursue the French with the utmost vigour by night; but there was this difference between the two cases—the French were totally defeated in battle, and demoralised, while the Prussians, at Ligny, were only partially defeated, and their left wing was firm and unbeaten.
It was on the 17th that Grouchy’s mistakes began, after he had received his new command from Napoleon, at 11 A.M.
4. Chapter IV.—It is astonishing that the outposts of Grouchy’s force in front of Sombreffe should have heard nothing, or reported nothing, of Thielemann’s withdrawal, which began at 2 A.M., and continued until 4 A.M., when the rear-guard left the village. Throughout the night, the opposing sentries were within earshot; and if they were awake they could not have helped hearing the commotion which must be caused by the movement of so large a body of troops by night, however great the precautions may be. True, it was a wet night; rain was falling heavily, but not too heavily to drown the noise of the retreat. Even a perfectly-planned and well-executed attack by night, with all the signs pre-determined, and each movement marked beforehand, cannot be kept absolutely quiet; there is always a stumbling, a cry of pain from a sprained ankle or broken nose, a curse from the darkness, often a rifle accidentally discharged; but in a retreat hastily decided on, how much greater will the noise be! The shouting of orders which cannot be conveyed by signs or signals on the spur of the moment, the noise of the heavy waggons, the yells of the drivers, and the cracking of whips! In those days the outpost positions would be scarcely two hundred yards apart on such an occasion; very different to modern conditions, which would make it impossible for two forces to remain in the same positions, relative to one another, as Thielemann’s and Grouchy’s on that night.
5. Chapter IV.—Excelmans lacked the true instinct of a cavalry leader. When he found Thielemann at Gembloux, at 9.30 A.M. on the 17th, the first step we should expect him to take would be to send back immediate word to Grouchy; then he would act according to his instructions, or as his own notions prompted. In the present circumstances, he would have taken steps to harass the enemy, deceive him as to his real numbers, threaten his line of retreat, and force him to march off again, and so spoil his rest and increase the fatigue of his troops, who would soon become too tired either to march or fight, when their retreat would have rapidly become a headlong rout; or to detain him in uncertainty until the infantry arrived. Certainly, entire inactivity was wrong in such a case. Every hour of rest allowed to Thielemann meant that his troops would be able to march more rapidly when they took the road again. If Thielemann had seen a few squadrons threatening his retreat, a few showing themselves on his flanks, without knowing the real strength of the force overtaking him, it is not conceivable that he would have waited to be attacked by overwhelming numbers.
6. Chapter IV.—It must have disconcerted Napoleon to hear Grouchy expostulating as to the orders which he had just given him. The Napoleon of earlier days would have dealt with a heavy hand on the man who dared discuss his orders. No doubt Grouchy felt very strongly on the subject, and his views may very well have been sound—in fact, they were sound up to a certain point; but it is never a soldier’s duty to discuss or argue about his orders. The story of Grouchy’s insubordination—for insubordination it certainly was—would be difficult to credit, but that some of the best authorities on the campaign give it in their works; and Grouchy himself, in his “Relation Succincte,” openly admits that he made no attempt, in his conversation with the Emperor, to conceal his misgivings.