Book Review: Wellington in 100 Objects, Gareth Glover

In the venerable tradition started - as far as I know? - by the British Museum's exemplary History of the World in 100 Objects, the book I'm reviewing here today joins an ever growing assortment of similarly themed books on numerous historical subjects. Prolific Napoleonic author Gareth Glover notches up yet more titles, annexing ever more shelf-space, authoring several such books on Napoleonic matters himself, including this one. And there are also titles by other authors, on the Third Reich, and all sorts.

In this book the objects themselves range from the tiny - a looted silver fork - to the massive - castles, stately homes, even whole villages, towns or cities, that Arthur Wellesley had some connection with. From the obvious, like his boots or campaign cape, to the more obscure, like dentures, or the saw used to amputate Lord Uxbridge's leg. 

From the humourous... [1]

And in the process of examining this wealth of material, which is frequently supplemented by other related stuff, we learn masses about not just the famed and celebrated victor of Waterloo, but his family, the times in which he lived, and the many and varied places his life story connects together. From the Congress of Vienna, to Napoleon's lonely and remote exile on St. Helena. From ancestral roots in Ireland, to nepotistic postings in India. And with his activities and interests connecting him with everywhere from the far-flung, such as to the Americas, to such near neighbours as Portugal, Spain and Northwest Europe.

Wellington doesn't have quite the same the mercurial mythological magnetism that Boney had, and continues to have. At the time of posting this review this book is listed as 'currently unavailable' on Amazon's UK website, unlike the pendant title, also by Glover, on Napoleon in 100 Objects. But, and especially so for the English, he is, and ought to be, someone we want to know more about. And this book does an admirable job of facilitating that.

... to the more macabre. [2]

NOTES:

[1] Wellington infamously duelled Lord Winchelsea, in 1829, whilst he (the former) was P.M!

[2] The saw and a bloodied surgeon's glove, from National Army Museum's collections, allegedly used to remove Uxbridge's shattered leg, at or just after Waterloo.

Book Review: Napoleon Victorious, Peter Tsouras

I'm so completely consumed by my new blog, and DIY and home improvement projects, that I'm not getting the time to post here at present, never mind to make models or paint figures. Also, having ground to a halt in volume two of Rory Muir's huge Wellington biog, I feel a little burnt out on my military history reading.

So I've set aside numerous other books I'm part way through reading, from the Wellington volume to such slim paperbacks as Nigel Cawthorne's Turning The Tide (about, as the subtitle says, decisive battles of WWII). The only exception to this is Napoleon Victorious, by Peter Tsouras. It's just so compelling!

Coutelle aloft in L'Entrepenant, during the battle of Fleurus. [1]

This alternative history retells the Campaign of Waterloo with great verve, staying close to many of the real events in many respects, and tweaking things in a (mostly) very believable manner, working its way - I'm about a third through at the time of starting this post - towards the conclusion signalled by the title.

Thus far the major divergences from history as it happened are as follows: Bourmont and his pro-Bourbon subordinates are nabbed before defecting, Berthier doesn't fall out of a Swiss window, but instead resumes his old role, and several key commands are given to different men: Davout will fight, instead of doing admin' in Paris, and Ney is left out in the cold, for example.

A segment of the famous Ferraris map. [2]

This is certainly a fun read. Presented in small dated reports, e.g. '13th June - South of Charleroi', it has a feel that is half history book, half novel. The latter element comes out most in the dramatised tableaux, where we feel more strongly that this is an imagined tale, as opposed to documentary fact. But it's done extremely well, the author clearly knowing his subject intimately.

It's funny, 'cause reading Muir's Wellington books, one is struck by a very traditional English view of events, in which Britain casts herself as the well-judged arbiter of European affairs, helping maintain a 'balance of power', etc, etc. The left/liberal view that Waterloo was an event to be mourned, and that the triumph of the ancien regime factions, backed by Britain as banker more than military power, was a bad/retrograde thing, is openly mocked.

Tsouras. [3]

I've yet to see how the battle itself - referred to here, since the victors get to write the 'official history', not as a Waterloo, but as Mont St Jean - plays out, and what consequences follow. But I have to confess to thoroughly enjoying seeing Napoleon in the ascendant, and some of us, myself included, might feel more than a little frisson of excitement as 'the Enlightenment on horseback' [4] gallops to victory.

So, although I'm a considerable way off finishing this, I would unhesitatingly recommend it.

----------
NOTES:

[1] Coutelle's Corps d'Aerostatiers were deployed at Fleurus and the siege of Mainz, after which the unit fell into neglect, and was later disbanded. Tsouras resurrects them, allowing Napoleon to see 'the other side of the hill', undermining Wellington's formerly effective secretive and protective method of defensive battle.

[2] There are maps, gathered at the front of the book. But they're modern computer-drawn ones, lacking the charm, beauty and evocativeness of the older contemporaneous maps.

[3] It's interesting that it should be an American who should write this story. Many Brits affect a puzzled air over why so many Americans have supported the IRA in the past. But of course many Americans will feel sympathy for those seeking to throw off the yoke of British colonial rule. It's what made America the country, indeed, world super-power, it has become. This was explored in, of all places, Columbo (I recently bought the complete Columbo on DVD!), in an episode stalled The Conspirators.

And that's not to say that simply because Tsouras writes of Napoleon Victorious he himself wanted this as the real historical outcome. He's also written books in which the confederacy wins the ACW, and Germany wins WWII. He may wish these things to have happened, and then again, he may not. It's like Tom Waits has often said, you don't have to be a murderer to enjoy telling murder stories.

[4] I think I first came across this term in Andrew Roberts' Napoleon The Great. Can anyone tell me who originated the expression: was it Roberts? Or was he quoting someone else?

Book Review: Wellington and the Fortunes of Peace, Rory Muir

In terms of scholarship and writing quality, volume two of Rory Muir's epic Wellington is on a par with volume one, and therefore a five bicorne affair. However, I'm not convinced by his stated reasons for his choice to split the book in two before Waterloo. [1] And, although I do find some of the post Waterloo stuff interesting, by and large it's nowhere near as compelling to me as the stuff that leads up to and includes Wellington's role as Napoleon's most effective adversary.

An iconic image.

Wellington and Blücher 'floging' [sic.] Boney.

At the time of starting this review I was with Wellington in post-Waterloo occupied France. And, with the sound of the cannon of Waterloo ringing in ones ears, it's still interesting, if not quite as exciting as events up to and including June 18th, 1815. Muir has already mentioned a monument to the fallen of Waterloo that was never actually built; I wonder what coverage there might be of Capt. Siborne's travails, and Wellington's role in relation to the latter's researches, and his famous Waterloo dioramas?

Wellington's way with the ladies and his 

relations with Ireland lampooned.

----------
It's now some time later, and I'm really struggling to keep up sufficient interest in the book, in which for much of the recent narrative, e.g. about the trials, literally and metaphorically, of the government with the king and his wife, Caroline, Wellington is more or less a peripheral figure. Albeit an admittedly important and influential one. Consequently chunks of the book read more like a general history of the period, in feel, than anything specifically Wellingtonian.

Some of the topics covered, such as the Catholic Emancipation business are, I suppose, of historic interest. Although as a rational materialist I find all this religious tomfoolery worse than tiresome. And even then, to the degree in which I am interested, I'm more inclined towards enjoying such caricatures as are shown here, all three of which immediately below relate to the Catholic business, than to trudging through the arcana that Muir sedulously covers.

Wellington's duel with Winchelsea. [2]

William Heath depicts Wellington as the King's coachman.

Wellington & Peel attack Mrs Constitution, letting Popery in the back door.

I admire Muir's obvious passion for his subject, and the amount of work he's done. And even more, perhaps, how he shares the fruits of his labours not only in commercial book form, but via his website (see below). And he obviously and unquestionably has great skill and flair as a writer. But none of this, alas, changes the fact that for me, Wellington is most interesting in relation to Napoleon. Once Napoleon disappears from the picture, it all feels a bit mundane.

Wellington as PM, and Ass!

'Majesty & Grace'...

Wellington fell from his horse, at a review, May 29th, 1829. [4]

And whilst this book and the first volume help add depth and nuance to my understanding of Wellington, and show him to be above all a practical man. Nevertheless, they don't fundamentally change the view I already had, which is that in the long run I'm on the side of 'enlightenment' - not, I must make clear, with violent revolution (I'd say I'm more conservative in some ways than most capital C Conservatives) - but I do agree with Paine that 'monarchy ... is the popery of government'.

Wellington, for all his pragmatism, wasn't a fan of enlightenment thinking. He was emphatically a church and king man, and I'm most definitely neither. So, whilst I have yet to finish volume two, and can't therefore give a full and complete judgement, as things stand: I found volume one intensely enjoyable, and essential reading. Aside from Waterloo and the immediate aftermath, I find volume two significantly less interesting or compelling, and therefore certainly not essential reading. Unless, perhaps, you're a Wellington nut?

I'm not. So I'm far from certain as to whether I'll be willing to invest the time to finish this book, as excellent as it may be.

'The Royal Shambles', by Cruikshank. [5]

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NOTES:

First of all I should mention Muir's Life of Wellington website. There's a wealth of information here, as well as links to other sources.

[1] A cynic, indeed, the cynic in me, might say - does say - that having Waterloo in part two was actually done to ensure better sales for a second volume that otherwise might not fare as well as the first, commercially.

[2] Wellington fought a duel, despite being the prime minister, with the Earl of Winchelsea, at Battersea Fields, South London, on 23rd March, 1829. I've not yet read what Muir has to say on the matter. But it's not an event that fits with the otherwise cool-headed pragmatism he describes as Wellington's normal m.o. And it was Wellington who called out Winchelsea, not vice versa.

[3] In 'Burking' Mrs C. Peel and Wellington are compared with Burke and Hare!

[4] In Hyde Park.

[5] George IV holds Wellington's sword, the latter calming the monarch, saying 'as long as you keep hold of my sword, you'll be ok', or words to that effect. I.e. the king is only able to stay in power thanks to the backing of Wellington and the army.

Book Review: Grouchy's Waterloo, the Battles of Ligny and Wavre, Andrew Field

In this, the third of four books covering the Waterloo campaign from the French perspective, the focus is, as the title makes clear, on Marshal Grouchy, the newest and last of Napoleon's commanders to be raised to that position, and the skirmishes and two bigger battles he fought on Napoleon's right wing, during the Hundred Days campaign.

Inevitably there's also coverage of the other concurrent events, meaning some duplication of information with other titles in the series. But this is both inevitable, and indeed necessary, and for those sufficiently interested, more pleasure than chore.

Ligny, by Theodore Yung.

In my recent review of Hussey's two-volume history of this campaign I described Grouchy thus, '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 whilst I now have a much deeper, and more nuanced understanding of his actions in the campaign, thanks to this book, I think that judgement still stands.

Grouchy.

This is a brilliant book, if, like me, you're obsessed by this colourful era, and, like me, your chief interest lies with the French. It's brilliant even if that's not the case. I've docked half a star only because Field chooses to quote a lot of the official orders and similar correspondence in full, and these are sometimes a bit verbose, and between them include a lot of repetition. 

There is a reason for this, however, which is, I expect, to do with the post Waterloo blame game, with Napoleon and his acolytes saying, a la Scooby-Doo, 'if it wasn't for those darned meddling kids (Grouchy and Ney), I'd have gotten away with it!' quoting the correspondence in extenso helps clarify whether orders were understood or not, and carried out properly or not, etc. [1]

Ernest Croft's fab painting of Napoleon at Ligny.

Ultimately Grouchy did fail Napoleon, as did Ney. But then again, Napoleon was hoist by his own petard, in that he appointed them (and Soult was perhaps another unhappy choice for his particular role), and he played fast and loose with troop allocations, etc. The rickety chain of command, lack of clarity and promptitude in issuing orders, and the inherent style of Naploeon's leadership, which could cripple his subordinates ability to act well independently - this clearly happened with a Grouchy - all add up to a certain sense of inevitable failure. And that's before you even consider the bigger David vs Goliath picture, with a tired war-weary France facing a vastly superior international coalition.

All in all, another excellent chapter in Field's essential contribution to the English language literature on this epoch ending campaign, bringing much needed balance by looking at the French side of the story. [2]

----------
NOTES:

The younger Grouchy, as a Capt. Of Dragoons, circa 1792.

[1] The lack of clarity in some of the orders beggars belief.

[2] I do hope more of his sources become available in English, in particular the more colourful lower echelon accounts, such as that by grognard Sergeant Maudit.

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.

----------

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.

Book Review: The Battle, Alessandro Barbero

Comprehensive and well laid out, The Battle really benefits from Barbero's use of short pithy chapters. Each is enjoyably punchy and succinct, and the large number, and rapid progress you can make through them, make for a galloping good read.

I'd have liked a glossary, 'cast list' and order of battle. Regarding the latter, he explains, as indeed do most recent writers on such subjects, that armies on the ground never matched their theoretical or 'paper' strengths. But even so, a concentrated listing of units and numbers involved (perhaps as an appendix?), even if approximate, would have made for a reference as handy, and to my mind as essential, as good maps. 

Talking of maps, the maps here are all grouped together near the front of the book, and are okay, although I've seen clearer/better. The inclusion of a portion of the Ferrari & Capitaine map - see image below - as used by Boney (and also the source for Wellington's maps), is a nice touch. There are also a good number of evocative illustrations.

There's an immense amount of interesting and indeed often exciting detail, as the concentrated carnage ebbs and flows along what remains an unusually contracted front, given the overall numbers that were involved at Waterloo. Barbero's writing is excellent, and he does a superb job of evoking the excitement of the battle, capturing it in all it's horrifying and gory glory. 

The grand scale of this intense battle is humanised by Barbero's liberal peppering of his narrative with piquant observations from participants, making for a gripping read. This is the sort of exciting history that can kickstart a lifelong passion for a subject. I was glued to The Battle from start to finish, and thoroughly enjoyed it, so I'd recommend it highly.

Barbero.

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.