Book Review: Marengo, T.E. Crowdy

In this excellent and exciting new book on the battle of Marengo by Terry Crowdy, published by Pen & Sword, the 'victory that placed the crown of France on Napoleon's head', as Kellerman had it (his resounding phrase also giving the book it's subtitle), we have Napoleonic history - always colourful and exciting - at its most dramatic.

The story starts with an introduction to the role of espionage in the events of 1799, a bad year for the French in Italy, before moving to the coup of Brumaire, which left Bonaparte at the helm of both the French state and the army, as First Consul. The cloak and dagger doings of the mysterious double agent Gioelli loom large in this account of events, and are appropriately intriguing.

LeJeune's fabulous painting.

Events leading up to the battle are no less dramatic, with Napoleon rather naughtily assembling a secret army, at Dijon, over which he will have personal (and unconstitutional) control, with the nominal gloss of Berthier as commander as the public fig leaf. The subsequent dramatic crossing of the Swiss Alps, and the logistical and tactical gambling that this involves, keep the excitement levels high, such that one is whisked along in the unfolding drama.

Another nice contemporary painting.

And, before one knows what has happened, rather like the men on the ground, from the humble soldiers (the memoirs of Coignet are already a useful and colourful resource) to the 'big hats' themselves, the battle of Marengo is underway. Seemingly almost accidentally, with neither side in full control of events, or with a full understanding of their opponents aims and objectives.

The death of Desaix, depicted on a rather handsome plate.

Once battle is underway, Crowdy relates the confusing ebb and flow of events with admirable clarity. And there are plenty of maps to help the reader track the potentially confusing unfolding drama. My only criticism of this book - and it's a criticism I would level at most contemporary military history books - is that, even where maps are provided, as they are in this case, they are rather plain and perfunctory looking if one compares them to the handsome old maps of yore (such as the gorgeous Alison maps partially reproduced below). And sometimes places mentioned in the text are not marked on the maps that are closest to hand. Meaning one is obliged to refer to other maps, or is left in the dark a little geographically.

Alison's attractive maps: phase one.

Phase two.

I'm still reading this, in the thick of battle, and loving it. I'll post the review anyway. But I may return to further fiddle with or augment this once I'm finished. In the meantime, however, this is highly recommended.
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Jacques Louis David's iconic Napoleon Crossing The Alps.

Ok, so I'm back to revise or update my review, having now finished this extremely impressive book.

When I posted the first part, I'd read as far as, guestimating somewhat, the point where the French were beginning to have to consider withdrawing. They'd given the Austrians a bloody nose, at the crossing of the Fontenone. But Austrian weight of numbers, and in particular artillery superiority, were beginning to tell.

As the French pull back, the further they retreat, the greater their predicament. Even an attack by the then Consular (as opposed to Imperial) Guard fails to stem the Austrian tide. The French are almost in rout, and the jubilant Austrians start relaxing their guard prematurely (elderly and reluctant C-in-C Melas declaring it's all over and he's off to bed!), when Desaix's troops arrive, and quite suddenly the fortunes of war are dramatically reversed.

Melas was in his seventies, when he led Austria against Napoleon.

The timely arrival of the French reinforcements galvanises the whole armies' resolve, disintegrating units reforming and returning to the attack. Having relaxed too soon, the Austrian centre collapses and gives way, and by late evening the French are back in possession of Merngo, athwart their enemies line of supply, with the cavalry of Kellerman and Murat harrying the Austrian rout as it flees
back towards the 'awful ditch' of the Fontenone, and beyond that the Bormida.

One of the chief factors in this sudden and disastrous turnaround, aside from the intrigues of Gioelli, was the lack of team spirit in the Austrian command. Whereas the French united behind Napoleon, and were quick to bounce back from setbacks, the Austrians bickered, failing to cooperate or support each other effectively, giving up quickly and looking to blame others.

Anton Von Zach, whose plans failed, was captured during the battle.

All in all, a terrifically exciting and informative read. And a useful addition to the enormous ever expanding literature on this colourful and endlessly fascinating era. Highly recommended.

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NOTES:

The author, Terry Crowdy.

Crowdy has a blog of his own, where you can read about his various activities, including the publication of this book (here).

Book Review: Iron Kingdom, Chris Clark

Beyond the Pickelhaube?

Prussia is perhaps best known to readers of military history, who will be familiar with her as a nation thanks to Frederick The Great, the Napoleonic wars, Bismarck and the Franco-Prussian war, and, of course, the two World Wars. This in itself says a lot about how we've thought of Prussia.

Before I get to Clark's book, I hope you'll allow me a brief digression on a very British view of Prussian culture: one of my first encounters with the classic cliché of the militaristic Prussian type came in the form of the comic film Those Magnificent Men In Their Flying Machines. The German officer in that movie, played by Gert 'Goldfinger' Frobe, was a fairly benign rendering of the stereotype, sending himself up by parping tuba type bass-lines from pompous martial music, whilst simultaneously exemplifying the vaunted 'military efficiency' of the German officer class by teaching himself to fly from a manual. 

In the end his literal downfall is bought about, on one occasion at any rate, by that quintessential image of Prussian militarism, his pickelhaube helmet, the point of which bursts his balloon (during an aerial duel with a Frenchman). Behind this relatively recent iteration of the Junkers type as a harmless comical buffoon, there has long lain a much darker vision of aristocratic German elitism, whose paradoxical combination of rigid servility ('I voz only obeyink orderz' was still a comedic playground catchphrase in my childhood) and belligerent arrogance are still popularly seen as amongst the root causes of two world wars.

Gert Frobe as Col. Manfred Von Holstein.

Has a pickelhaube puncture, and winds up...

... in the drink.*

Whilst Clark makes no reference to the above-mentioned film, the character of the pickelhaube wearing 'kraut' is nevertheless much in evidence, from the amazing zeppelin-with-uhlans image on the cover, to cartoons from Simplissimus, or the image of a square-headed walrus-mustachioed Hindenberg, and throughout much of the text. But Clark's book, which at just short of 700 pages is not for those with only a passing interest, is about so much more; from Pietism and the Prussian enlightenment (Prussia was home to Hegel, and later Marx and Engels, as well as Frederick the Great, Bismarck and Hindenberg) to Prussia's dynastic dramas and personalities, and the conflicting driving forces of provincial particularism versus the desire to unify the crazy patchwork of atomised sociopolitical entities into a 'Greater Germany'.

And the book is, on the whole, all the better for this richer synthesis. Having said this, as with so many modern history books, I did find myself occasionally struggling with Clark's laudable but exhausting need to try and cover as much as possible. Adam Zamoyski addresses this issue admirably in excusing his brisk and generalising or simplifying treatment of the Congress of Vienna. Getting such a balance right must be a very difficult thing, and doubtless few authors can hope to please all their varied readers. Still, on the whole Clark does a very good job, peppering his narrative with interesting little details, as well as covering the grander arcs of events. Sometimes's the details, particularly regarding diplomacy or administration, can get a bit dry, and I did drift away from the book about midway through, ironically during the Napoleonic years (This is particularly ironic for me as it's my wide reading in Napoleonic history that lead me to buy this book).

Right, said Fred.

But after a brief respite I came back to it and got stuck in again. In the interlude I'd read Kershaw's single volume Hitler biog., in which he says, in the intro, that Clark suggested Hubris and Nemesis to him as titles for his full two-volume version. Clark does in fact use these titles himself, for two of his Napoleonic-era chapters. And, as with any good book, this has prompted the desire for further reading. 

Amongst the many intriguing threads Frederick the Great appeals to me, both for the excitement of 'great captain' style military history, but also because he's also just generally very interesting. Amongst other things I'm very attracted to his blunt irreligiosity: Clark quotes him as saying of Christianity that it's an 'old metaphysical fiction, stuffed with ... absurdities... fanatics espoused it, intriguers pretended to be convinced by it and some imbeciles actually believed it.' Brilliant!

Right next door to Prussia, Poland is another country with a famously unstable and chequered history. During the Napoleonic era Poland ceased to exist, her neighbours, Prussia, Austria and Russia, carving her up, whilst Napoleon exploited Polish nationalism without rewarding her people with the return to nationhood they thought he might help bring about (indeed,the War of 1812 was originally talked about in the circles of France and her allies as the Polish war!). 

Thanks to Prussia's role in two world wars it is the largest of the modern European powers currently erased from the map. Will she, like Poland, make an eventual return? It doesn't look very likely at present. But who really knows, perhaps at some future point the Prussian national identity will return? Based on our most recent previous historical experiences, this could potentially be a very scary development!

Prussia reborn? Nein!

Clark avoids such speculations, contenting himself with the rich historical story. Prussia's role in unifying Germany, including her relationship with her chief rival Austria, as well as the many smaller states (such as Saxony, Bavaria and a myriad of others) during a period of escalating nationalism, is just one of the many fascinating themes he expertly explores in this book. 

Whilst Clark is in many respects thoroughly academic, there are flashes of wit and style which make works such as this a little more palatable to the lay reader, such as when he observes that 'William I was ... widely revered... a figure with the gravitas and whiskers of a biblical patriarch.' But all told I found this a somewhat uneven read, compelling and even exciting in places, but sometimes a little too drily or academically thorough.

Overall, however, Iron Kingdom was rewarding and informative enough that I enjoyed and would recommend it.

* Twice, once in the ballon, and once in his plane.

Book Review: Napoleon's Invasion of Russia - George F. Nafziger

A useful but challenging read. Nafziger's data heavy account of 1812 is occasionally exciting, but always exhausting in its detail.

I've wanted this particular title for my growing Russia 1812 library for years. As long as I've known of it the cover has held a certain charm, for one thing. But usually I couldn't even find it, and then when I occasionally did it was priced around £15-20, or more, either online or at wargaming shows. So I was very chuffed when I spotted it on a haberdashery stall, of all places, at a local 1940s show, and they were only asking... 50p!

And I'm damn glad I only paid that amount, 'cause if I'd paid £15-20, I'd have resented it. Sure, it's a treasure trove of data, but it's not a particularly easy or inspiring narrative. I mean no offence to  George F. Nafziger, who clearly knows and loves his subject - and who's clearly also a data junkie - but this book [1] is amongst the most densely turgid on the subject I've waded through [2].

In places I did really enjoy it. It is, for example, better than many accounts of this capaign in including coverage of what went on to the north and south of Napoleon's main central forces. But at other times it worked as one of the most powerful soporifics I've ever encountered. If I were a doctor, I'd prescribe this to anyone with sleeping issues. In fact - and I jest not - I do suffer that way, and I have intentionally used this book to put myself out. It never fails!

Napoleon takes a nap, on the eve of Austerlitz. Has he been reading Nafziger?

Of the more than 700 pages, only the first 300 or so, or roughly fifty percent, comprise the narrative, the remainder of the book being made up of maps, OOBs, and numerous other forms of pertinent data. I'm building miniature armies and planning to wargame several key events from the 1812 campaign in Russia, and I imagine I'll refer to this other material when I really get stuck into that. 

But, for the time being, I have to confess that it was with great relief that I 'finished', i.e. reached the end of the narrative segment, of this factually informative but rather leaden account of what is, as David Chandler says in his intro, an endlessly fascinating campaign. 

Kutusov, and the Russian brass. [3]

I still love the cover. And I'm glad to have this useful resource as part of my Russia 1812 arsenal. But the density of movement, location and unit info was, speaking frankly, a real slog to get through, and the writing itself would've benefitted from more editorial intervention (to remedy occasional lack of clarity, frequent repetition, etc.).

If you were coming to this subject fresh, I'd recommend Zamoyski's exciting 1812, or Paul Britten Austin's fabulous and epic 'word-film'. I'm only an interested amateur/dilettante myself, and I deeply admire and respect Nafziger's accomplishment in marshalling all the information [4], as well as sharing his passion for the subject. This is one for hardcore buffs only!

A much easier, more exciting entree to this subject.

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NOTES:

[1] I think I've read somewhere that this is/was his first major publication/work.

[2] So far only Clausewitz's account of the 1812 campaign has been harder/heavier going.

[3] One of this book's strengths is the insight into and coverage of Russian command and movement. Where many accounts are markedly Franco-centric, this is pretty evenly balanced.

[4] Apart from his numerous books and translations, Nafziger is known to many for his unbelievable collection of historical OOBs, which he's made freely available online.

The author.

Book Review: Napoleon's Campaign of 1812 - Hilaire Belloc

Hmm? I almost rated this book three bicornes, mostly because it's on a subject I love, but also because it was an easy and relatively enjoyable read. But on reflection, I've decided it's less than ok/alright, and gone with just two.

Belloc's prose style hasn't aged well, his contemporary, George Orwell, describing it as 'tiresome'. Certainly it's somewhat florid and overblown. Also Belloc's credentials as a historian are highly questionable. He seems to simply rehash the most well known stories of this campaign, with no great depth of understanding. This is, therefore, a retelling of an oft-told tale that's low on scholarship, data and evidence-based research, and high on rhetoric and unsupported opinion.

Should we be surprised by this, given that Belloc was a staunch Catholic, who attributes the growth of capitalism in the west not to the rise of science and industry, but the dissolution of the monasteries? And for whom, according to one of his own provocatively titled essays, 'Science Is The Enemy Of Truth'? Belloc the man seems fascinating, inspiring even, for his multifarious interests and writings. But Belloc the historian? I'm not convinced!

Still, if like me, you're fascinated by this subject, this might still just be worth reading.

Belloc.

Book Review: Dictionary of the Napoleonic Wars - David Chandler

A handy reference work on one of my favourite eras in military history, by one of the periods major experts/über buffs. Not the sort of book you'd typically expect to read cover to cover, unlike most of Chandler's other voluminous output on the period, but something to dip into, as the moment requires.

One of the reasons I only give this four stars, however, concerns one of the chief reasons I originally acquired it: Napoleon bestowed titles on his henchmen/cronies/family with liberal abandon, and many of the contemporary works of history - and even some later ones - use these honorifics, e.g. Duc d'Vicenza (Caulaincourt), or Viceroy of Italy (Eugene d'Beauharnais), etc.

Eugène de Beauharnais, aka Viceroy of Italy.

I had hoped this book would allow me to quickly find/work out (and over a longer period perhaps even learn) who was who in the potentially confusing world of Napoleonic nomenclature. And the info required is in here, by and large. But it would've been nice, at best, as a table all gathered in one place, or, at worst, with both proper names and titles listed and cross-referenced. Instead you have to laboriously search under proper names until you hit on the right person. Or, as I do, use Google/Wikipedia instead!

So this is a good/useful book. But it could've been even better. And it disappointed me in respect of one of the chief reasons I acquired it. Nonetheless, another pretty essential work on this colourful era from David Chandler.

David Chandler, avec Boney's Bicorne!

Book Review: Napoleons Wars - Esdaile

If warmongering was Napoleon's chief strength, it was also his downfall. If thoroughness is Esdaile's... Well, read on - and read the book of course - and make your own mind up!

I have to confess to finding this book somewhat disappointing. First of all, it doesn't live up to the hype on the cover. Admittedly the reviewers in question - Andrew Roberts and Dominic Sandbrook -  are professional authors/academics. Perhaps that's why they ostensibly find this book more useful and rewarding than many an amateur reader might?

As another reviewer of this book (Mr Hanna, over on the Amazon UK webiste) observes 'International relations, rather than military developments, are the focus of the work'. I suspect this will therefore be more popular with historians than wargamers or military 'buffs'? There were definitely stretches when I read with avid interest, but there were also times when I found myself slogging doggedly on, in an 1812 frame of mind (1812 Russia, that is, not 1812 U.S.), so to speak.

The 1812 slog... Tough going? Cruikshank's terrific Boney Hatching a New Bulletin.

In many respects this is undoubtedly a very good book, Esdaile compiling and synthesizing huge amounts of Napoleonic scholarship and, if we take him at his own word, resolutely following his own line (particularly in asking whether Napoleon's character was a primary cause and motivating force in relation to this age of conflict), nevertheless at times it's the very all-embracing thoroughness of the book that's the problem; casting his net as wide as possible, Esdaile's scale and scope are huge and wide.

Given the emphasis here on diplomacy rather than campaigning this approach renders his account, relative to many others I've read, fragmented and rather dry. However, Esdaile certainly succeeds in compressing a lot of information on numerous more obscure theatres (e.g. the Balkans, the Near East and Ottoman Empire, and the Americas, including the oft-overlooked Caribbean and South America), as well as the more commonly covered Euro-centric stuff, into a single volume.

At times, busy discussing one thing, Esdaile darts off to cover something else, happening around the same time but in another theatre. Sometimes, but not always, the two are clearly related, with developments in one theatre affecting possibilities in another, and the way this bigger picture emerges is amongst the books definite strengths, but this jumping around does also disrupt narrative flow.

Problems of perspective? Gillray's Brobdingnag-ian George contemplates 'Little Boney'. 

For the military buff type reader, there may be issue of perspective in this account.

Another problem arising from Esdaile's lofty overview (Speaking of which, he quotes Napoleon: 'I strike from too great a height.' Fuel for the comedic view of Napoleon's wars as the working out of a height-related inferiority complex?) is the loss of engaging ground level detail, battles for example, frequently becoming no more than names. This book, at least in the edition I have, also differs from many on the Napoleonic era in eschewing maps of battles altogether.

I imagine many readers of Napoleonic history, whether scholarly or just generally interested, relish the details of the often epic campaigns and battles. As Esdaile points out, there's plenty of that kind of material out there already. In preferring to trace the broader arcs of grand politics, he sacrifices this Holy Cow, and I have to say that for this reader the book's the poorer for it.

Gillray's Consular Triumverate. In this book, and despite the title, we're given diplomacy and statecraft rather than battles and campaigns.

It's now standard practice for books such as this to draw heavily on primary sources, and Esdaile is no slouch in this respect. But his protagonists are almost exclusively bigwigs from the upper echelons, with their eyes on posterity. Very little detail comes from the groundlings, or has the simple candour such accounts often have. This is in keeping with his grand overview approach, but it does make for a drier - and sometimes more pompous (Esdaile's sources, that is, not the author) - reading experience.

Personally speaking, I think books like this benefit from broader social representation. A good example of a book that not only manages this, but adds the oft-overlooked voice of womankind is Amanda Foreman's excellent A World on Fire (on the ACW). Okay, that's about a different era/conflict, etc. But nevertheless, it shows how vivid such history can be.

To convey what I'm trying to get at, I hope an artistic analogy won't be deemed too fanciful? Esdaile's book is, perhaps, a little like a Vermeer painting that's missing its central character. The contextual information, the rugs, maps, walls, furniture, etc, is immaculately (if coolly) recorded, but some of the personal detail and human interest, literally and metaphorically (e.g. this can be considered to include details of individual battles as well as details of individual characters) is missing.

Napoleon put in his 'proper' place, and not happy about it!

Possibly admirable (depending on your view of the subject) for putting Napoleon back in his 'proper' contextual place in history, Esdaile is perhaps slightly too bent on debunking the mythic/heroic Napoleon he characterises as the 'bogeyman' of modern Europe. In this he seems to belong to the school of historians, mostly in the Anglo-American tradition, who feel that Napoleon is overly revered.

Rowlandson's take on a German caricature of Napoleon as the Devil's Darling.

Certainly amongst most people I know (including French folk) Napoleon's still seen primarily as a warmongering imperialist despot, and therefore not altogether to be admired! But equally, one has to concede that advancement via merit through the ranks of Napoleon's army, and in the secular French society of his time, was a more common thing than it was in the ranks of Ancien Regime powers, such as England or Austria (read Jack Gill's excellent three volume Thunder On The Danube series to learn how hamstrung Austria was in the 1809 campaign, on account of the dynastic and gentrified modus operandi that hamstrung the command level), and clearly - to my mind at least [1] Napoleon's character cannot be simply written out as an interchangeable cog in the machine of the history of the world at this particular time.

What the 'legitimate' powers of Europe really feared: the 'radical reformer'! As depicted by Cruikshank

The French introduced the levée en masse, to defend the revolution, and Napoleon introduced annual conscription, which ultimately become know as the blood tax. This area of evolving warfare is not simple: the term blood tax tell us how unpopular conscription would become, but one can argue that from the levée en masse onwards, in the parlance of modern Europe, French troops were 'stakeholders', in a potentially more liberal state.

In England we avoided overt conscription, but not from magnanimity, but rather because introducing it might perhaps have fomented the kind of rebellion and change in the social order that the nobs here dreaded, especially having seen what'd happened in France. Against all this Esdaile quite rightly points out that, ultimately, 'Boney was a warrior' (as the old song had it), and only by acting collectively did Europe eventually defeat him and end the bloodshed. From this viewpoint Napoleon ends up in the odious company of Hitler, as destroyer of the peace.

This book isn't the fist instance of Hitler and Boney being lumped together. 

Top, Russian WWII propaganda; bottom a British cartoon by Illingworth.

The theme of Napoleonic character analysis, which by the end of the book feels more like character assasination, in seeking to answer a fundamental question at the core of the book - 'Was Napoleonic Europe...proof of the 'great-man' theory of history?' - finds Esdaile in difficult territory. Seemingly irritated by traditions of pro-Napoleonic history and biography, his recurring criticisms of Napoleon eventually sound almost personal!

Rather like Napoleon himself, whose contradictions - 'I have always commanded' and 'I have never really been my own master; I have always been governed by circumstances' - and whose alleged 'ruinous quest for glory' dominate this book, Esdaile tries to have it both ways: Yes Napoleon was a singular man, whose almost primeval force of character shaped events: 'it was the emperor's determination to eschew compromise... that made them [the Napoleonic wars] what they were'. But no, 'the history of Naploeon did not constitute the history of the world, or indeed, even Europe'! Hmm?

Esdaile in action: looks like he's not just a stuffy academic after all, but an active re-enactor as well? Cool! Looking a t bit ECW here, with the sword and whiskers.

Esdaile himself says 'academic historians rarely attract the audience they deserve', and, whilst he succeeds in conveying what he terms the 'pan-European dimension' of these wars, with a locus more centred around Poland and the crumbling Ottoman empire than is normal in Napoleonic histories (indeed, at one point Esdaile states that Russo-Persian altercations, at the time a considered a 'sideshow', may retrospectively be deemed to have 'had greater long-term geopolitical effect than anything that happened in Western Europe'), his book, alas, probably won't change that state of affairs.

The Congress of Vienna, as seen in  French caricature; this book is more about the dances of diplomacy than the battles.

Nothing if not polemic and thought provoking, this is a very informative, well researched, and detailed book, and one can see it potentially occupying a well-earned place in current Napoleonic scholarship. But for the generally intrigued non-specialist reader, Esdaile's very thoroughness and concern with the broader historical picture might make this a bit on the drily academic side.

I read military history (well, history generally, and Napoleonic history in particular) like some people read novels, and my favourites are the books most like a novel in their characterisations and 'plot' momentum, etc. Ideally, one hopes, a history book can have this level vivacity without sacrificing objectivity. Some good examples include Barbero's The Battle and Zamoyski's 1812, but these are admittedly focussed on particular campaigns and battles, whereas Esdaile seeks to tell us about the whole period.

This amazing Gillray cartoon captures well how things eventually turned out: Napoleon, declared 'outside the pale', was hunted down by the crowned monarchs of Europe...

Last of all, there is even something in that most fundamental of things about this book, that I'm beginning to question, the title and the assumptions it suggests. As Andrew Roberts is keen to frequently point out, only the Russian and Spanish campaigns were instigated by Napoleon (and how ironic, given that those were to be the two to hasten his ultimate downfall!). Almost all the others, including the Italian campaigns that raised him to power, were started by the 'legitimate' or Ancien Regime powers, who feared the spreading of Enlightenment values would undermine their rule (as it indeed it would, and has done), usually with England acting as banker. It's real a case of the winner writing history, and using their dominance for propaganda purposes, to say that these were  simply Napoleon's Wars.

... And this, amongst other reasons, is why England constantly bankrolled the coalitions, to conserve the Royal Oak.

My head might give this a four or possibly even a five bicorne review, but my heart would only make it three. Indeed, I'd struggle to go with four, meaning 'I like it': it was too much like hard work. So I'll settle for three and a half bicornes!

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[1] I originally read and reviewed this book some years ago. Since then Andrew Roberts' book Napoleon The Great has appeared. He shares my position in respect of this particular aspect of the argument: Napoleon was a great man!

Book Review: Trafalgar, The Nelson Touch - David Howarth

Wow, what a story! 

The age of sail - when sail was the main or only method of traversing the high seas - grows ever more romantic as it recedes further into history. David Howarth, whose superb Waterloo, A Near Run Thing, is the kind of book to inspire a lifelong passion for Napoleonic history, proves just as adept at bringing the naval war of this now distant epoch to vivid and colourful life, in this excellent slim but compelling volume on Nelson's memorable victory at Trafalgar. This is perhaps not entirely surprisingly, as Howarth was himself a naval officer, helping run the famous 'Shetland Bus' during WWII.

The sad fates of the two opposing commanders, Britain's heroic and much admired Nelson, and France's tragic and much maligned Villeneuve, illustrate very well how real history sometimes combines both mythic grandeur and epic tragedy. Nelson is, perhaps, as close as we can come in Britain to having a man as charismatic and effective in leadership as Napoleon. Wellington was of course effective and popular, but he didn't have the same public charisma as either Napoleon or Nelson. But where Nelson excelled in this watery world, Napoleon, usually so prodigiously capable, appears at his least able when it comes to maritime matters. 

Vice Admiral Horatio Lord Nelson, by Lemuel Francis Abbott

Of course, Nelson's part in this story is exciting and compelling in itself, and has often been treated in various media. But Howarth skilfully weaves this most famous strand of this famous and many threaded story together with numerous others, including Villeneuve's, and those of many other senior figures of all three nations, British French and Spanish. He also describes the navies themselves, and the contexts they fought in, even imparting sketchy views of the lower ranks (about whom, at the time Howarth was writing - and perhaps still? - very little was known). 

The whole is superbly put together, flowing very smoothly, moving the happy reader along much like a favourable wind in one's sails! Howarth skilfully builds his narrative, with the gentle yet unstoppable inevitability of an ocean swell, towards the longest chapter, The Battle, which describes a messy and confusing naval action with impressive simplicity and clarity. This is so well done that once I reached this section I found it extremely hard to put the book down. Indeed, as near as was possible, I read straight through to the end. It was a moving and exhilarating read.

For victors and vanquished alike, far from a quick and peaceful cessation of travails, after the confusion and intensity of this most famous of naval battles - the metaphorical storm, if you like - came the literal storm. This week-long maritime hurricane was, according to those that survived it, even more challenging than the battle itself. Howarth describes this superbly too, ultimately following the story beyond this to the funeral of Nelson and the rather shady and politically convenient demise of Villeneuve, during his return from British captivity.

Admiral Villeneuve.

The latter left no issue to suffer any subsequent ignominy. Nelson, although married, is famed for his relationship with his beloved mistress, Emma Hamilton, by whom he had a daughter named Horatia. Their fate - only very vaguely alluded to in this brief narrative - balances the scales of tragedy somewhat, across the channel. 

The sacrifices of this savage naval battle are thrown into yet starker relief due to the fact that even before Nelson (and so many other mariners of numerous nationalities) made the ultimate sacrifice, Napoleon had turned away from the cross-channel invasion project based at Boulogne, learning of the naval disaster as he trounced his foes on the road that lead to Austerlitz.

Like Howarth's book on Waterloo this is a fabulous read, and one that could easily seed a lifelong passion for warfare in the age of sail. It's great that HMS Victory has been preserved. Having read this I must go and see her for myself! As a result of reading this wonderful book I also want to read further in this area: I have several appropriate titles lined up. Just got to find the time to read 'em!

Above, the complete painting, by Auguste Mayer, a portion of which appears on the books dust-jacket. [1]

The old World Books edition that I bought, a 1970 reprint of the 1969 Collins 1st edition, is richly illustrated, with plenty of images - including portraits of most of the senior commanders, various naval scenes, some of the battle, some more general (mostly in black and white, with a few double page spreads in full colour) - and even some simple but helpful maps of the unfolding action. 

The one glaring omission is a glossary of nautical/naval terminology. For us landlubbers who don't know our port from our starboard, this would've been a most useful and obvious thing to include. Despite this I'm giving this five Boney's Bicornes: there will doubtless be more thorough and detailed books on this subject. But I doubt there will be many that are more readable or exciting.

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NOTES:

David Howarth.

Author David Howarth was an interesting man. With a naval background - during WWII one of his areas of service was as assistant to the British officer organising the famous 'Shetland Bus', whereby Britain helped keep the Norwegian resistance movement supplied and trained, etc. - he was not only an author on nautical subjects, but also a boat-builder, and his writings would extend to areas of land warfare, including his book on Waterloo, which I've also reviewed on this blog. Howarth's final book, written in collaboration with his son, was a biography of 'Britain's most famous Admiral', Nelson, entitled Nelson: The Immortal Memory, published in 1988. On the strength of the two Howarth books I've read so far, I'm very much inclined to track that down and read that as well.

[1] The beautiful painting is flawed: it shows the French Bucentaure, which was indeed at Trafalgar, engaged by the British ship Sandwich, which wasn't! Nonetheless, it captures the visual drama of warfare at sea in the age o' sail admirally, so to speak.