In the matter of style, there could not have been a greater contrast on the other side of the valley. The Emperor was still at Rossomme, still crouched in his old armchair, and still unable - or so it appeared - to concentrate his mind for more than a minute or two at a time on what was happening. It was his habit, more than Wellington’s, to leave the conduct of a battle to his high commanders. But at Waterloo he went much further. Until late in the afternoon, he continued to sit there, far out of sight of the most important parts of the battle, a mile and a half from the centre of events. Simply to take a message to him and bring an answer back, through the mud and obstructions on a tiring horse, would have taken a quarter of an hour. Consequently, very little information was sent to him, and in the first six hours of battle he scarcely gave six recorded orders about it, including two of very small importance. Not even he could direct a battle from so far away. It was really Marshal Ney who fought the battle, or the central part of it, and he might have fought it better if the Emperor had not been there at all. For the Emperor was out of touch with events, but Ney was too much in the thick of them, down in the valley, leading the charges, cheering men on and fighting like a trooper. The Emperor could not see into the valley: Ney could not see out of it: from nine in the morning to seven at night they did not see each other. Between them there was a fatally empty post. On the slopes of La Belle Alliance there were positions corresponding to Wellington’s, where a commander could have surveyed the whole battle calmly, given his orders quickly and been accessible at once when he was wanted. But there was nobody there.
Friday, December 6, 2019
But there was nobody there.
From Waterloo A Near Run Thing by David Howarth. Page 105.
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