Book Review: Osprey, Campaign series - Quatre Bras - John Franklin

NB - I found out, via a post on TMP, that this book was available in a Kindle edition on Amazon UK's website for just 99p (as opposed to £14.99). So I bought it. As with my other Osprey reviews, for reasons of copyright, apart from the cover, the images used here are sourced from elsewhere.

I should, perhaps, start this review by admitting I'm not always overly keen on the eBook format. And in the course of this review some of the more general issues I currently have with eBooks will come under consideration. Two things in their favour are, rather obviously, that 1) they're often cheaper (and sometimes, as here, much cheaper), and 2) they don't take up all that real estate on your shelves that ordinary books fill.

But to get on with the subject of this review: how about this book? Well, it's the Kindle edition of the popular small, slim, serial paperbacks which are an Osprey trademark, such as their Men at Arms uniform and equipment series, or their Campaign series, to which this title belongs. Osprey appear to have commissioned John Franklin, a new name in the field of Napoleonic literature (to me at any rate), to cover the Waterloo Campaign, such that there are now three titles by him in this sub-series within a series: this one on Quatre Bras, another on Ligny, and a third on Waterloo itself.

Let's start with the good news. The first thing to note is how well organised the content is. There's a short scene-setting introductory section, dealing with the context just prior to the campaign. This is immediately followed by a comprehensive chronology. This chronology starts with Boney escaping Elba, and runs up to late evening on June 16th, the day of the battle at Quatre Bras. I can see why you'd put a chronology here, but I'd have preferred it after the main body of the text. Either way, it's a usefully succinct reference point.

Very well organised!

Next come three 'opposing' sections: opposing commanders; opposing forces; opposing plans. As neat and well-ordered a structure as that guy's kit, pictured above! In Opposing Commanders we get very brief summaries of the commanders, limited in this instance to Wellington and the Prince of Orange on the Allied side, and Napoleon and Ney on the French side. [1] In Opposing Forces we get the OOB, and related info on command and composition, etc. And finally, a very brief synopsis of the two sides different goals, in Opposing Plans.

The real meat of this book, however, begins under the title The Campaign Opens, under which there are 19 sub-headings, each dealing with a major component of the unfolding action. 18 of these deal with the action at Quatre Bras, with the 19th quickly visiting Napoleon, further east, defeating the Prussians at Ligny. It's incredible how much detail and information there is on the action, and this is quite probably the best aspect of what this title has to offer. But the very density of the information, combined with two other factors, the style in which it's communicated, and the constraints of the Kindle eBook format, will soon bring us to some of the not so good news.

42nd Highlanders at Quatre Bras, by George Jones. [A]

One thing that struck me quite forcibly, in relation to the detailed minutiae of the myriad movements, themselves occurring amidst multiple ever-evolving actions - and given the arguments that the Waterloo campaign has consistently generated I was perhaps a little surprised about this - was the absence of any tentative note from Franklin's descriptions of events. The bulk of this account is essentially a long list describing the movements of various bodies of troops and the actions they were involved in; at no point was I aware, as I have been so often when reading about war in general, and Napoleonic warfare in particular, that Franklin felt any doubt about the information he was imparting. Having just read several other rather different accounts of Waterloo, in which such uncertainty was often a key note, this difference really struck me.

Before I embark on any critical comments [2], let's briefly finish the summary of contents. Following the highly detailed coverage of the action itself, we have Aftermath, The Battlefield Today, and Further Reading. One of these last elements that I particularly liked - perhaps in part because I've visited some of the Waterloo battlefield (and will be going again for the 200th anniversary!) - is the section called The Battlefield Today. Having not yet visited either the Quatre Bras or Ligny sites (we did have a nose around Plancenoit, in 2014) these sites have now been added to the 'must do' list! And, of course, Further Reading suggestions are always welcome and useful. So, to summarise my summary of the contents, what's best about this is how well organised the information is, and how much detail there is on the action of the 16th itself.

Brunswick troops at Quatre Bras, by Knötel. [A]

Okay, so now it's time to turn to the more critical observations. One or two of these have to do with how the book's been written [3], whilst several have to do with the way it feels reading it in the digital format I purchased. My first gripe, and this has proven true of all the eBooks I've bought so far, is the poor quality of the images. I've seen the originals of some of the eBooks I have (inc. this one and a book on modelling small-scale armour), and it's clear to me that one reason why one might want to spend more money on a hard copy could be for the higher quality of the images. 

In this edition, double-clicking on images in order to see them better, is, if you'll pardon an Osprey Men-at-Arms themed pun, uniformly disappointing. With such atmospheric pics as the portraits, actions, uniforms, and the like, this is a shame but not desperately troubling. But with the excellent 'bird's eye' view maps (they're sometimes referred to as '3-D'!), of which there are several here, the size and quality is, to my mind, unacceptably poor. Okay, you can just about read them (there's some very tiny text explaining what they illustrate), but these particular images are not only things of great beauty, but are rich in information: they deserve to be bigger and easier to read. The more basic maps fare better, but even they could do with being bigger and in higher resolution.

In other respects the selection of images supporting the text is, for the most part, about what one would expect. Most of the images, aside from the modern maps, such as the portraits of commanders, the views of various actions, uniform plates, and so on, are reasonably vintage. There's not much to say about these images, which, whilst of very varied quality, from some that are quite naïve to some that are quite exquisite, are all very evocative, except that they are really quite charming, and add a lot to the appeal of books such as this. My only small quibble with the selection of these images was when I encountered three images (and I think it may have even been three in a row?) on the same subject, namely the Prince of Orange, 'heroically' tipping his tile! There are also several original pieces by regular Osprey artist Gerry Embleton. [5]

There are three pics of this scene, showing the young Prince

of Orange raising his hat. This isn't one of them!

Like the area of image quality, which is a general concern I'm discovering I have with eBooks, my second problem has to do with a technical issue, this time regarding formatting, and how the Kindle software functions. It might be that I'm just not sufficiently au fait with the technology. But certainly I find it's not as easy to jump back and forth in this eBook when I want to refer to maps - and in a book of this sort that's pretty much constantly - as it is in an ordinary paperback or hardback. [6]

The final issue I had with this book, and, to be fair, it might be the 'other side of the coin' in relation to some of the strengths of the book, is not one of a technical/format nature, as were the previous two, but has to do with Franklin's approach to the text. But before I get to any criticisms, another thing I would like to observe on the positive side is how, as explained in his Author's Note at the end of the book, he remarks that 'wherever possible the original terminology has been employed'. Bravo! I've heard tell of translations of, for example, Caesar's account of his wars in Gaul, in which the editorial/translation team have decided to use modern terminology instead of Roman terms. Wrong! Franklin's way is most emphatically the right way.

As I've already alluded to, Franklin is certainly to be commended for packing his account full of information - and for those wanting an information rich account, this is definitely a very useful book - but it is, as a result, and because of the way it's done, rather dry. And this type of dryness translates, for me, into two rather doleful D's: difficult to follow (not helped as outlined above by the Kindle formatting) and, alas, rather dull. Franklin's approach here is more Siborne or Clausewitz than than Barbero or Paul Britten Austin, if you know what I mean? [7]

In some important respects this is, and quite obviously so, one hopes, very much a complement. Siborne and Clausewitz are both highly respected authorities, particularly, and very naturally, in the circles in which they are best known and understood. But theirs aren't the easiest or most enjoyable accounts to read by a long (grape) shot. And nowadays, one might wish for accounts that are both factually as correct as one can hope to be, and yet are also engaging at the same time. Ideally I want both information and enjoyment!

Franklin's account is saturated with information, and on that count I'd score it five out of five, but, whilst it's not the dry and stodgy porridge of Clausewitz's account of 1812 - reading that really did, literally, give me a headache - it is still hard to keep it all in one's mind (a fact not helped, as already mentioned, by the way the eBook format makes referring to maps trickier than it ought to be). But, as I've now said numerous times, to be fair, there is a heck of a lot of information, and perhaps sometimes it is an either/or case with information vs. drama?

71st Highlanders at Quatre Bras, again by George Jones. [A]

My final criticism of the text has to do with nomenclature: Franklin was dead right to use the languages and titles of the era when it comes to ranks, units, formations, etc. But I have to confess I don't like how he chooses to render the titles of the commanders. Constantly reading such full and correct but unnecessarily verbose titles as Sir Arthur Wellesley, 1st Duke of Wellington, or Willem, Hereditary Prince of Orange-Nassau, was, I found, rather galling. I would personally prefer a practice I've seen other writers employ, whereby they give the person their full title once, ideally when first mentioned, and thereafter use shorter names, e.g. simply Wellington, or The Prince of Orange. [8]

In terms of information, I'd score this five out of five (primarily for quantity; I'm not sufficiently expert to judge the quality [see note 2 below!]); in terms of user-friendliness and the quality of the experience in Kindle, it'd be two or three out of five; and finally, in terms of enjoyment - how much of a pleasure was it to read? - I'd score it three out of five.

A reviewer at Amazon's UK website, writing about Corunna by Christopher Hibbert, says 'I'm a huge fan of history, particularly if it's about the Napoleonic wars, but I'm not a huge fan of history books filled with fact after fact and nothing to 'hook' you' (you can read that review here, if interested). I find it hard to say this, especially having followed some exchanges on TMP in which Franklin and another forum member (registered under several different names over an extended period) engage in some quite vitriolic exchanges, but, despite it being a well organised and fact-filled read, I found it rather flat and dull.

This was especially noticeable to me, as also was the absence of any real sense of the 'fog of war', having just read several incredibly compelling and moving accounts of other aspects of the Waterloo campaign, the best of which were Paul Britten Austin's 1815 The Return of Napoleon, and David Howarth's A Near Run Thing. So, as hard as I find it to be openly critical of what is obviously a well researched labour of love, I felt, when I first submitted an Amazon review, that I must score this at three out of five. However, after re-reading some of the book, and going over my reviews, I eventually opted for four stars, despite my not having really greatly enjoyed the fact-filler but rather dry text. This said, it's definitely worth having and reading, and I probably will be getting his Ligny and Waterloo titles as well, certainly if they're going for just 99p!

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Images:

[A] These pics were found at pinterest. This link ought to get you there: Waterloo 200

NOTES:

[1] In a way this is fine and obvious, but in another way, perhaps it isn't? Wellington and the Prince of Orange both commanded at the battle this book covers, as did Ney, but Napoleon, of course, did not, as he was busy fighting Blücher at Ligny. You could of course argue that as Napoleon was C-in-C (not to mention something of a control-freak!) and Ney was working to his orders...etc. Granted. But one could also argue that as Napoleon features more centrally in the Ligny and Waterloo battles, those would be the titles in which to cover him. Otherwise there's a danger that there could be some repetition of content in other volumes in the series, as there might also be regarding Wellington.

[2] My limited knowledge of the subject doesn't permit me to extend my critique to the factuality of the actions described. At present I'm busy reading books like this to try and learn what allegedly happened. I frequently see online debates, even some in which Franklin has himself commented (for example some currently active over at TMP), in which such things are discussed, and often rather too heatedly for my liking. I'll leave such debate, at least for the time being, to the more learned!

[3] I feel mildly paranoid about the hubris of critiquing anyone who has the wherewithal to do anything successfully in the public domain, such as writing a book like this. But I also value quite highly the views of others, people who like me are buying and reading such books, whether they express them on their blogs, in a forum, or on a commercial website. I almost always check several reader reviews before buying a book (usually via Amazon UK). But to be perfectly clear: I have nothing but respect and admiration for those who put their work 'out there', such as authors like Franklin. 

By and large when I write reviews, especially if they're destined for Amazon, for example, I try and stick to stuff I love. So any more critical reviews, should I get as far as posting them, have been agonised over as they've been written and re-written! With my Napoleonic reading I'm intending to be more comprehensive, and I hope to ultimately write something about more or less everything I've read, posting shorter versions on Amazon, and longer versions here. Why? For several reasons: doing so helps me both evaluate and remember what I've read; because I find when others do so it helps me make informed decisions, and I want to contribute to that process; and lastly, simply because I enjoy doing it!

[4] I don't see that this has to be so. Sure, eBooks will be bigger, memory wise, if they have better quality (i.e. higher resolution) images. But that's something I for one definitely want. Indeed, I can't see why, ultimately, eBooks ought not to be able to challenge conventional print (on yet another front!) by supplying superior size and quality images. But as they are, the images here are, to me, the equivalent of what low sample-rate MP3 music files are to a CD-quality track: the original image (or music, to keep the analogy going) may be fabulous, but granular low-res versions, be they MP3 music files or the images in this Kindle edition, aren't up to snuff.

[5] Embleton was the uniform illustrator for another Osprey title I recently reviewed, on uniforms of the Mexican-American war. As accomplished as his contributions to this title undoubtedly are, they sit slightly oddly in the book, to my eyes - and I'm an art graduate and occasional illustrator myself - which is dominated, for the most part (and excepting the maps) by more antique art styles. 

   My favourite of Embleton's contributions is the image of some Jägers in a field of corn. The other three of his works (at least the ones credited to him) are all reproduced twice, once in colour, and once in back and white (with numerical annotations on the latter), and accompanying blocks of text set against grey backgrounds. These appear to illustrate little vignettes, drawn from the main narrative, which the text explains in more literal detail. 

   Interestingly there's a note at the very end of the book saying that 'the original paintings from which the colour plates in this book were prepared are available for private sale'. As an occasional freelance artist and illustrator I can really relate to that! Osprey give Embleton's website address, and then add: 'The Publishers regret that they can enter into no correspondence upon this matter'!

[6] In the end I discovered that what I had to do was jot down the 'locations' where the maps were (not page numbers, because there are no page numbers, the format being fluid and flexible; i.e. depending on the size of screen one might have more or less pages), whilst placing a bookmark at the point in the text where I momentarily exited to visit the map. I could then navigate back to my bookmark. Perhaps as I read more eBooks using the Kindle app on my iPad I'll get better at this sort of thing. But it did strike me that there might possibly be some better way!

[7] For anyone who doesn't know what I'm getting at here, contrasting Siborne's treatment of the Waterloo Campaign with Paul Britten Austin's treatment of the 1812 Russian campaign shows two polarities of approach. Both are based on exhaustive use of original source material, but Siborne recasts it into a rather impersonal sounding/feeling factual narrative, whilst PBA weaves the original protagonists words into a richly evocative and very humane (and emotionally involving) tapestry. The Siborne approach is, perhaps, rather more like a scientists report, with the the facts all present and correct (as far as the author could determine them; and yes, I know there are debates over the correctness of some of his information), but the feeling of personal human involvement, the subjective voice, rinsed out. 

    Paul Britten Austin's approach takes the same kind of material, but leans instead towards the subjective experience, with a result more like what that the author himself very aptly described as a 'word film'. In my ideal world, you could have the two things together. I'm trying to think if I've encountered such a balance... Was Gill's 1809 trilogy a case in point? Is this what Chandler achieves in his Campaigns of Napoleon? Some of the books I've enjoyed the most, Barbero's The Battle, Zamoyski's 1812, and Simms' The Longest Afternoon have certainly felt that way. But perhaps they err more towards the subjective?

[8] I'm not alone in this: the book is criticised for this approach in a Miniature Wargames review.

Book Reviews: Waterloo, Vols I & II, John Hussey

 

Wow... magnificent! I just finished volume two of John Hussey's mighty, epic two volume history Waterloo, The campaign of 1815. What a great literary-historical journey it was. 

John Hussey's account of the One Hundred Days campaign is nothing if not thorough. Fortunately his prose is more contemporary in style than, say, Capt. Siborne's, whose very large history of Waterloo - even bigger than this one, esp. if you include the third volume of maps - is known to be a tough slog. 

Nor is Hussey's work like Alessandro Barbero's more contemporary account, The Battle, which, placing one squarely on the battlefield amidst the action of the 18th June, has a very different feel and scope. Hussey tells a much bigger tale, of the 'big hats'; this is very much a command and control view of the campaign. There's lots on diplomacy, and even logistics (I don't quite know why, but for some reason I particularly love the latter aspect of military history!). And it soon emerges that the Allied coalition was, as Napoleon knew and gambled upon, a complex and quite fragile thing.

Despite numerous mistakes - strategic and tactical - Wellington was the man to get the job done.

But make no mistake, this is no less exciting for all that it stays closer to the upper echelons of command. For one thing, the way the two volumes are structured works really well: volume one begins with the diplomacy at Vienna, moves through Napoleon's return, before following the build up - Allied dithering versus rapid decisive Napoleonic action - and climaxing with the final three chapters, which focus on Ligny, Quatre Bras, and the wanderings of d'Erlon's Corps.

The excitement builds very nicely. And if, like me, you're obsessed with this era, Waterloo, or - quite probably - both, then the depth of detail will entrance. It is worth restating that this very definitely isn't Antony Beevor style down in the mud and blood stuff. So, if that's how you like your martial history, this just might be arduous going in the first half of volume one and the latter half of volume two.

Hussey is clearly very taken with Blücher's 'up and at 'em' style of leadership.

Volume two is almost a mirror image of volume one, kicking off with the brief pause of the 17th, before rapidly launching into the excitement and confusion of the 18th, and Waterloo itself. And there's a lot of confusion, something Hussey conveys extremely well. In fact, with admirable and almost paradoxical clarity.

Hussey paints a picture in which the Prussians don't come off too well in terms of staff work, with only Müffling shining in his role as liaison between Wellington and Blücher. Gneisenau, on the other hand, comes over as alternately timid and anxious or peevishly aggressive. And the lack of clear communication from the Prussian side becomes an oft-repeated lament.

Anyway, volume two quickly grips the reader with its intense and detailed coverage of the action of the 18th, opting for the classic 'Five Acts' approach (can anyone remind me who it was that first came up with that approach?) [1], which works extremely well. And, as he does with the whole history across both volumes, Hussey always gets over both his own views and those of others, even where they diverge, supporting his own position with clear and reasoned argument. It's a very compelling account.

Müffling, an effective liaison 'twixt Wellesley and Prussian brass.

Whilst Grouchy, d'Erlon and Ney have long been whipping boys for those whose admiration of Napoleon will brook no exceptions to his undeniable (if flawed) genius, that is not so here. Hussey lays the blame for the ultimate French defeat clearly and squarely at Napoleon's feet. One of the major problems stemmed from what could and often had been, in other times, one of the major strengths of Napoleon's leadership style: his desire to keep total control under his own hand.

As Hussey paints the picture here, this left Ney, brought in at the last moment, both emotionally slighted and practically uncertain; arriving on the eve of battle, with no formed staff, troops were added and subtracted from his command willy-nilly, as Napoleon - constantly changing his plans as he reacted to the evolving situation, sometimes under mistaken apprehensions  - saw fit. It was this situation that then lead to d'Erlon wandering around between Quatre Bras and Ligny, not only not benefitting French fortunes at either, but actually causing problems.

Grouchy, a man of two modes.

And as Hussey has it, Grouchy in the Waterloo campaign was a man of two modes. Up until he learned of Napoleon's decisive defeat he was vacillating and cautious, most likely too in awe of his imperial master to act decisively on his own initiative. And yet once he knew France was militarily beaten, he suddenly rediscovered his leadership mojo, and skilfully extricated his force, the one remaining part of the Armée du Nord that remained intact, safely returning it to France.

Unlike Grouchy, d'Erlon wound up both lost on the 16th, and defeated on the 18th. That the latter attack ultimately failed was a surprise to all, and in some major respects this was due to the 'fox hunt' style attack of the British and Allied cavalry. According to Hussey Napoleon's basic approach, though lacking in subtlety, most likely would've worked, in particular with an earlier start. But he also notes that communication at the top of the French army was no longer what it had once been, back in Berthier's day, and speculates on whether perhaps Grouchy and d'Erlon should've swapped roles with Davout and Suchet.

d'Erlon, lost two ways.

Hussey's coverage of the battle itself is superbly lucid, and highly exciting. And I also very much enjoyed how he managed to keep all the various narrative strands both separate, yet active and mutually reinforcing (unlike, all too often, the troops on the ground!). He also addresses some of the partisan nationalist bickering that's marred post-Waterloo history writing, and manages to come to very soundly reasoned and well supported conclusions of his own, whilst allowing for the differing views of other authorities.

Wellington on Copenhagen.

Whilst Hussey clearly admires Wellington, and shows how reasonable he was in comparison to, for example, the alternately strident or gloomy Gneisenau, his is not a hagiographic portrayal by any means. Wellington committed sins of both omission and commission. In the former category he failed to give preparatory orders early enough - hence the 'humbugged' bit - and even on the day, his disposition remained mistakenly over-weighted to the West. And worst of all, whilst Hougoumont was thoroughly prepared, La Haye Sainte was dangerously passed over.

Hussey's admiration for Blücher is perhaps more straightforward, like the man himself: whilst Wellington had gifts that allowed him to operate extremely well both on the battlefield and in the corridors of power, Blücher was simply 'that old devil' (as Boney put it); you could knock him down -and this campaign illustrated this quite literally - but he'd be on his feet and into the saddle, and back on the attack, if not the next day, then the day after. 

Marshal Vorwarts...

Having visited the battlefields myself twice (2014 and 2015), there was a special resonance when reading this account: having stood by the stone commemorating some of the actions of Mercer's RHA troop, and viewed a plaque attached to the church wall at Plancenoit, all the many place names and actions that took place and are so ably narrated here came vividly to life for me.

There's a lot of literature on Waterloo, that epoch-ending battle that finally brought the Napoleonic era to a definite full-stop. And a surprising amount of that literature is very good. But for me this is right up there with the best. A massive account - about 1,000 pages of narrative (that's not including notes, etc.) - that gave me huge pleasure to read, and has left me feeling far better informed on this fascinating chapter in European history.

The Prussians fight for Plancenoit.

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NOTES:

[1] Hussey does mention who it was who first described the battle of Waterloo as a drama in five acts, I just can't recall who he credits.

Hussey is very taken with Turner's depiction of The Field of Waterloo, but appears to favour the watercolour (above) over the oil version (below), inasmuch as that's the one he reproduces and discusses.

Film Review - Waterloo (1970), Sergei Bondarchuk, Rod Steiger et al

My DVD uses this decidedly Anglo-centric poster artwork.

The film itself

Having watched this film at least six or seven times now, I thought it was high time I took the opportunity of recording and sharing some thoughts about it. 

First off, Napoleon is a subject that has attracted and yet frustrated the movie industry for many years. From Abel Gance's experimental silent-era flop, in which he blew his entire budget on the first of what were meant to be six instalments, to Kubrick's abandoned movie project, abandoned, apparently, because the film under review in this post didn't do as well as had been hoped.

Directed by Sergei Bondarchuk (his epic Russian version of War & Peace, in which he also starred as Pierre Bezukhov, made him perfect for this role) the film starts at sea, as Napoleon leaves his Elban exile and makes a dramatic return to the throne of France. His triumphal march north and resumption of power is delivered in a very quick/truncated manner, swiftly followed by the realisation that war will be inevitable and unavoidable (there's a great scene relevant to this thread with Boney steaming in the bathtub!). 

Shortly thereafter French troops cross the river Sambre into Belgium, and before you know it we're amongst the strutting peacocks and popinjays at the Duchess of Richmond's famous ball.

A rather different poster: for the French market

it's an Eagle silhouette, rather than British flags!

Napoleon advances on foot to meet Ney's 'Royalist' troops:
Napoleon - 'Soldiers of the fifth. Do you recognise me?
[pause] If you want to kill your Emperor? Here I am.'

Müffling arrives at the ball, Wellington makes his plans (and we get the famous 'humbugged' lines), and afore ye know it, the troops are deploying on the battlefield.

The movie dutifully (and spectacularly) covers most of the major actions: the opening 'feint' against Hougoumont, D'Erlon's massed infantry attack, with the British/Allied cavalry charge riposte, many bombardments of the batteries (Bondarchuk seems to have had a 'thing' for artillery scenes!), the French cavalry washing around Allied squares, the arrival of the Prussians, and the final attack of the Guard, etc.

The scale of the production is truly amazing. Legend has it that for the duration of the filming of the battle scenes the multinational multilingual army assembled for the film was amongst the largest 'standing armies' in Europe. The bulk of the extras were Russian soldiers, and troops were drilled according to contemporary 'evolutions'. The battlefield was recreated pretty meticulously, in the Ukraine.

Yet another different poster in English.

The cast is pretty stellar; Rod Steiger's Napoleon is actually very good. I must admit I didn't like him in the role instantly. But the more I watch the film, the better I think he is. Christopher Plummer is great as a very charming if somewhat clichéd aristocratic Wellington, and many of the supporting roles are well cast/played (the actor playing Blücher looks exactly right!). 

Bondarchuk's direction is, on the whole, excellent, and clearly no expense was spared staging and filming the amazing battle scenes. Appropriate use is made of contemporary martial music, and the stirring menacing score, which helps build tension as we approach the battle, is also worthy of mention. 

Sadly, despite all that it has going for it, the film didn't do as well at the box office as was anticipated, and that's not helped Napoleon reach the big screen (or little screens either, for that matter) in the years since. How different the situation is on the literary front, where there's a seemingly inexhaustible Krakatoa of works that continually belch forth on this perennially popular subject!

Would that someone with pots of of money might take the whole era on! My dream team would be: Spielberg, Jackson and Scott, sharing roles as executive producers, and  poss even as co-directors, with Scott (his film The Duellists is one of the most beautiful depictions of the Napoleonic era) as production designer. And they could use Kubrick's researches, so he could get a credit as the ghost in the machine!

[pic]

Historical accuracy

On the topic of historical accuracy, here's a link to a site dedicated to listing movie bloopers and the like, which has an entry on Waterloo. Near-miss trivia nuts might be tickled by the fact the movie is catalogued as entry 1813. What a pity it couldn't have been 1815! There is also a list of historical inaccuracies at the Wikipedia entry for the film. And the website TV Tropes has a slightly different angle on this whole area, which is interesting. 

Given that all this info's already out there, I'll leave it - more or less - at pointing people towards those links. I will, however, mention just one or two things: the famous ball on the eve of the battle was held in a coachmaker's barn, so probably didn't look quite as grand as the candle-lit ballroom of the film. In attempting to recreate the famous painting of the charge of the Scots Greys (Scotland Forever, 1881, by Lady Butler), we're given a very cinematic vision of a cavalry charge. Woe betide any plucky highlander foolish enough to try hanging onto the stirrups of those thundering steeds! And lastly, given how much artillery action we're treated to, some consistency would've been good; as it is the cannons sometimes recoil, and sometimes don't. 

[pic/video]

But, for me, although there are many fine moments, there's one single shot of such extremely evocative magnificence - French troops of all the main arms, cavalry, artillery and infantry, cross a river (I assume the Sambre?) in the rain; the camera starts with an aerial panoramic view, pans across the bridge, and ends on an under the bridge view of troops fording the river - which snuffs out any such quibbles. To see the military splendour of the age of the 'big battalions' so wonderfully realised is, frankly, priceless.

And another poster variation! This one for

the Prussian, sorry, the German market.

An extended director's cut?

There has also been speculation about whether a longer version of the film exists, with some suggesting (over at TMP, for example), that there may have been a four-hour long Russian 'director's cut'. I took the bit between my teeth, so to speak, and wrote via email to Mosfilm, and received a rather disappointing reply from a lady named Elena Orel, of the Mosfilm International Relations and Distribution Dept:

'Please be advised that Mosfilm holds the right to the film WATERLOO, 1969,

director Sergey Bondarchuk, for Eater [sic] Europe territories. I should inform

you that there is only one version of this film of 2 hours 17 minutes.'

I don't hold that this is necessarily a final and definitive end to the quest for a longer version [1]. But it doesn't exactly fuel hopes!

One of the intriguing publicity stills that suggest certain scenes were cut.

It would seem that there certainly were scenes that didn't make the final cut, some of which exist only thanks to press-photos. Thanks to the TMP discussions on the topic I can post a link here to Deadhead's gallery of tantalising stills of some of these potential lost scenes.

The picture I reproduce above, showing Napoleon on horseback, comes with an interesting anecdote; Steiger was terrified by the skittishness of the white horse he was sat on. Justifiably so, as it turned out, as it bolted with him still in the saddle! This in turn links neatly to one of the worst aspects of the film, which are the several scenes where certain characters, e.g. Steiger's Napoleon, or Michael Wilding as Sir William Ponsonby, are filmed clearly pretending to ride a horse, very unconvincingly.

More photos like the ones linked to above,  including several of the same, can be viewed here: David Hurn's Waterloo film production photos (1969)

A Spanish language poster for the film.

And finally, try and avoid the 'pan and scan' version of this beautiful film, which spoils the visual glory somewhat by zooming in and slipping and sliding around the picture space. I don't know how you could tell this in advance. I only know that my version (part of a four film Orson Welles set*) is the original and best format, and that a version I watched at a pal's was the mutilated one.

* I'm glad they bundled this film in with the other movies in that collection, in which Welles is the main star, despite his role in Waterloo being little more than a cameo!

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NOTES:

[1] In my researches for my monthly classic album column, Recycled, for Drummer magazine, I often found that major labels had little or no idea about some of their older and more obscure catalogue items. Mind you, Waterloo is hardly obscure, even if it is now quite old (it's only very slightly older than me!). But what I'm getting at is that Mosfilm may be wrong, and there may be a longer version out there somewhere, even if not in their archives. That was how Kevin Brownlow was able to eventually cobble together Abel Gance's Napoleon, thanks to prints in the collections of unofficial sources.

Book Reviews: Cavalie Mercer's Journal of the Waterloo Campaign (abridged and complete editions)

The memorial to Mercer and G troop RHA, at Waterloo, on the right of the British line, towards Hougoumont.

Cavalie Mercer (source: wikimedia commons)

On our recent trip to Belgium - with Teresa (my stalwart wife!) - I took along several books, one of which was Cavalie Mercer's journal, in an abridged edition. Despite some issues with this book (which I'll address in due course) I loved it, and it made seeing the memorial to him on the battlefield truly moving. We think we spotted 'Paxo' nearby, and he was moving to!

Jeremy Paxman (photo: Christopher Thomond, source)

When we got back, so much had I loved the abridged account, that I had to buy and read the full version. Both are printed by Pen & Sword, and both are lavishly illustrated. But beyond those similarities, and the obvious fact that both draw from the same rich well, they are quite different in one or two important respects.

The Pen & Sword abridged edition (introduction by Bob Carruthers)

The first thing I feel I ought to say is that Cavalié Mercer's memoirs are undoubtedly five-bicorne material: Captain Calvalié Mercer, who commanded G Troop of the Royal Horse Artillery in Wellington's rag-tag but victorious Allied army at Waterloo, wrote a terrific account of his experiences. The only reasons this gets just four of Boney's chapeau, and not the full five are, firstly, this is a very truncated rendering of his writings, and secondly, editorially this has been allowed to go to press littered with typos, of the sort that suggest the use of text recognition scanning software (e.g. frequent instances of 'hi' where it should clearly say 'in').

Having said this, I nonetheless really enjoyed reading this book. Mercer was - aside from the annoying typos that were in no way his fault - the perfect literary companion for our jaunt across to Belgium for the Waterloo 200th. The short extracts used here begin with Mercer leaving England (including some references to some parts of East Anglia and Suffolk we know!), travelling by sea and land to Belgium, taking part in the rearguard actions following Quatre Bras (where he glimpses Napoleon!), fighting at Waterloo, and then wandering the battlefield in a quasi-Romantic reverie.

Mercer is great. He writes superbly, and if his account is to be trusted - and it smacks of authenticity - he was also a brave and conscientious (if, by his own ready admission, not always perfect) soldier. He's both proud of his troops, and simultaneously both sensitive and yet somewhat inured to war. Reading his accounts of Napoleonic warfare really brings home both the excitement and the horror of such conflict. Mercer himself emerges from his own story a thoroughly likeable and impressive young man. As mentioned above, my wife and I stood on the very spot - as denoted by the small monument pictured at the top of this post - which marks the final position Mercer's battery occupied (it moved around a  fair bit, being horse artillery), and where it did it's bloodiest work, between Hougoumont and the Charleroi road. Having only just read of his experiences made this a truly poignant experience.

There's some interesting parenthetical stuff by a Victorian gent (who's name escapes me at this moment), who Carruthers quotes at length in the intro, on the nature of military history, memoirs, and Mercer himself, which is a useful adjunct. There are also lots of pictures, which, being rather randomly strewn throughout, add to the feeling that they and the title - splashed across both sides of every spread - function as padding. Having read titbits from Mercer many times in many books, reading him more fully here was extremely enjoyable, even in spite of the awful typos that litter this book like the dead and wounded litter the field of Waterloo in Mercer's sanguine account.

Good reading for a weekend away: great material, shame about the typos. 

The Pen & Sword complete edition (introduction by Andrew Uffindell)

This is a great edition of an already brilliant story, which adds quite a lot to the memoir itself, including a biographical account of the whole of Mercer's life (placed before rather than after the Journal itself). Having read the abridged version of Mercer's memoir whilst visiting Waterloo, I was keen to read the full story. In reviewing this a second time I may repeat myself a little. Please forgive/indulge me!

Starting in England, the narrative of his journey to Belgium is as exciting and interesting as the battle itself. The sea-crossing and subsequent travels through various Belgic billets are all fascinating, described with an eye for detail that's as artistic as it is military. Once the conflict gets underway, Mercer and his troop arrive on the scene at Quatre Bras just in time to perform a very exciting stint of rearguard duty, during which - as the elements do battle as ferociously as the human and equine actors (oh, and there's even an unfortunate pig!) - he catches a sublime glimpse of Napoleon himself, sitting his horse atop a hill bathed in sunshine, whist Mercer and his guns are in the deep shade of ink black storm clouds.

Throughout this story, but especially at Waterloo itself, Mercer comes across as very brave, if not perhaps as experienced as some of the other RHA Captains (he confesses to numerous mistakes he makes at various points, mostly logistical stuff, and not at Waterloo itself, fortunately), many of whom were Peninsular veterans. He incurs both the praise and censure of Wellington, a subject which he is clearly a trifle touchy about (this theme is enlarged upon in the extra biographical content). Is this one of the reasons he never published his memoirs, perhaps? They were eventually published by his son, with little or no editorial intervention. Andrew Uffindell is clearly proud, and rightly so, of his part in seeing this superb account finally getting the editorial and supporting scholarly research attention it so richly merits.

The complete painting of Wellington at Waterloo, by Hillingford, from which the fuller version of Mercer's journal gets its cover image. (source: wikimedia commons)

The part that deals with the battle of Waterloo itself is terrific: detailed, exciting, colourful, and humane. Mercer gets over the terrible carnage - G Troop certainly did their duty in ensuring that the French 'butchers bill' was awfully high - and confusion of battle, including feelings of guilt at his own losses, and instances of 'friendly fire', extremely vividly. The period after the battle, as Mercer and the Allied and Prussian armies make for Paris, is equally fascinating, revealling much of great interest regarding those 'behind the scenes' aspects of campaigning that most popular or scholarly accounts of campaigns such as this usually gloss over or ignore.

Towards the end of the narrative Mercer gets leave to go home. Visiting his wife, she begs to return with him, and (against his counsel) does so. Mercer ultimately sees out his involvement in the campaign in company, with his wife's needs adding to the complexities of his own logistical billeting difficulties. The intensity and detail of his account peters out a little towards the end, but overall this is a remarkably rich and involving account of one of the world's most written about campaigns and battles.

This edition benefits form copious quantities of maps and illustrations, alongside plenty of editorial interjections that further elucidate numerous pertinent points. The biographical detail on Mercer at the start of the book is great as well, and there's more additional matter at the end. The abridged version was somewhat spoiled by an abundance of egregious typos. Thankfully the editorial care taken here is of an altogether different and much higher order.

Essential reading this, for the Napoleonic history nut in general, and the Waterloo obsessive in particular. I'm glad I read both versions. The longer of the two would've perhaps been too much for our brief Waterloo 200 trip, but of the two it's by far the better.