He showed no vigor in following up his victory at Ligny, and made a capital error in not breaking up the retreating foe with cavalry charges. He lost a great opportunity at Quatre Bras. On the night of the 17th he should have sent definite orders to Grouchy, and should have hearkened to Soult when he was urged by that thorough soldier to call in at least a portion of Grouchy’s force. He took the reports of Haxo and Ney, and based the battle upon their erroneous reports. The Napoleon of earlier years would have _gone to see for himself_. He did not have a good view of the field and consequently missed detailed movements of immense importance. He treated with too much scorn the opinion of Soult and Reillé (who had tested the English soldier in Spain), when they warned him that the English, properly posted and properly handled--as Wellington could handle them--were invincible. He made the attack without maneuvering, in just the bare-breasted, full-face way that best lent itself to bloody repulse. The premature cavalry movement which contributed most to the final disaster was under full headway,--too far advanced to be stopped,--before he knew that it was contemplated. In holding off the Prussians, the Emperor displayed his genius, directing every movement himself. On the field of Waterloo, he left too much to Ney and Jerome. Had he taken Ney out of the fight at the time that he recalled Jerome, the issue might have been different. The last grand charge should not have been made at all. He should have stopped, as Lee did at Gettysburg, in time to save his army, for by this time he _knew_ that Grouchy would not come. To stake so much on one last desperate throw was the act of a man who was no longer what he had been at Aspern and Essling when he withdrew into the Island of Lobau. When the Emperor was giving the order for the last great charge, General Haxo would have remonstrated. “But, Sire--” he began. Napoleon flapped his glove lightly across Haxo’s face and said, “Hold your tongue, my friend. There is Grouchy who will give us other news.” He had mistaken Bülow’s cannonade for Grouchy’s. One can understand what was passing in his mind when he said to Gourgaud, a few weeks later, “Ah, if it were to be done over again!” On Wellington’s side the management was superb. It was practically faultless. He made the most of every advantage, and made the most of the errors of his enemy. With this exception: He left 18,000 of his men at Hal, four or five miles away, protecting a road which he feared the French might take. But with Napoleon facing him, here at Mont-Saint-Jean, the 18,000 men were no longer needed at Hal; and no one has ever been able to explain why Wellington did not call them in during the early morning of the 18th. * * * * *