Fighting as he did against vastly superior forces, Napoleon’s one hope of success lay in crushing the Prussians before the English—­who, as he well knew, were scattered over a large extent of country—­could come up, and his failure to do this cost him his empire.

The artillery fire ceased in front before the column continued its march for Mount St. Jean.  The Prince of Orange had paused in his advance when he saw how strong was the French force round Frasnes, and Ney was not yet ready to attack.  Therefore from eleven until two there was a cessation of operations, and the ardor of the troops flagged somewhat as they tramped along the dusty road between Mount St. Jean and Genappe.

The Prince of Orange was having an anxious time while the British column was pressing forward to his assistance.  As the hours went by he saw the enemy’s forces in front of him accumulating, while he knew that his own supports must be still some distance away Nevertheless, he prepared to defend Quatre Bras to the last.  He had with him six thousand eight hundred and thirty-two infantry and sixteen cannon, while Ney had gathered seventeen thousand men and thirty-eight guns to attack him.  The latter should have had with him D’Erlon’s corps of twenty thousand men, and forty-six guns, but these were suddenly withdrawn by Napoleon when the latter found that the Prussian force was stronger than he had expected.  They had just reached the field of Ligny when an order from Ney again caused them to retrace their steps to Quatre Bras, where they arrived just after the fighting there had come to an end.  Thus twenty thousand men with forty-six guns were absolutely thrown away, while their presence with either Napoleon or Ney would have been invaluable.

Soon after two o’clock Picton’s division, which headed the column, heard several cannon shots fired in rapid succession, and in another minute a perfect roar of artillery broke out.  The battle had evidently begun; and the weary men, who had already marched over twenty miles, straightened themselves up, the pace quickened, and the division pressed eagerly forward.  A few minutes later an even heavier and more continuous roar of cannon broke out away to the left.  Napoleon was attacking the Prussians.  The talking and laughing ceased now.  Even the oldest soldiers were awed by that roar of lire, and the younger ones glanced in each others, faces to see whether others felt the same vague feeling of discomfort they themselves experienced; and yet terrible as was evidently the conflict raging in front, each man longed to take his part in it.

The officers’ orders to the men to step out briskly were given in cheerful and confident voices, and the men themselves—­with their fingers tightening on their muskets, and their eyes looking intently forward as if they could pierce the distance and realize the scene enacting there—­pressed on doggedly and determinedly.  Messenger after messenger rode up to General Picton, who was marching at the head of the column, begging him to hurry on, for that the Prince of Orange was step by step being driven back.  But the troops were already doing their best.