es; and Ney was, at the moment when he
gave that order, under the hottest fire of the whole action. In the second
place, he could not have any very exact idea of where in all those four
miles of open fields behind him the head of Erlon's column might be, still
less where exactly Delcambre would find it by the time he had ridden back.
A mile either way would have made all the difference; if Erlon was
anywhere fairly close; if Delcambre knew exactly where to find him, and
galloped by the shortest route--if this and if that, it might still be
that Erlon would turn up just before darkness and decide the field in
Ney's favour.[11]

Considerable discussion has turned on whether, as the best authorities
believe, Erlon did or did not receive a pencilled note written personally
to him by the Emperor, telling him to turn at once and come to his,
Napoleon's, aid, and by his unexpected advent upon its flank destroy the
Prussian army.

As an explanation of the false move of Erlon back and forth, the existence
of this note is immaterial. The weight of evidence is in its favour, and
men will believe or disbelieve it according to the way in which they judge
human character and motive. For the purposes of a dramatic story the
incident of a little pencilled note to Erlon is very valuable, but as an
elucidation of the historical problem it has no importance, for, even if
he got such a note, Erlon only got it in connection with general orders,
which, he knew, were on their way to _Ney_, his superior.

The point for military history is that--

(_a_) Erlon, with the First Corps, on his way up to Quatre Bras that
afternoon, was intercepted by a messenger, who told him that the Emperor
wanted him to turn off eastward and go to Ligny, and not to Quatre Bras;
while--

(_b_) He also knew that that message was intended also to be delivered,
and either had been or was about to be delivered, to his superior officer,
Ney. Therefore he went eastward as he had been told, believing that Ney
knew all about it; and therefore, also, on receiving a further direct
order from Ney to turn back again westward, he did turn back.

If we proceed to apportion the blame for that disastrous episode, which,
by permitting Blucher to escape, was the plain cause of Napoleon's
subsequent defeat at Waterloo, it is obvious that the blame must fall upon
Ney, who could not believe, in the heat of the violent action in which he
was involved, that Napoleon's contemporary