WATERLOO

This month marked the bicentenary of the Battle of Waterloo, in which Napoleon Bonaparte was defeated in present-day Belgium by a military alliance commanded by the Duke of Wellington.

The legacy of the battle remains contentious today, with France at odds with Belgium about how it should be commemorated.

Fought on Sunday 18 June, 1815, near Waterloo, in what is now central Belgium, the battle was contested between Wellington, with his British, Dutch, Belgian and Hanoverian army, and Napoleon Bonaparte with his French Imperial Guard. It was a clash of the titans: both men were military giants, they were the same age, celebrated strategists and had several victories under their belts.

Napoleon, who had risen through the ranks of the army during the French Revolution (1789-1799), had taken control of the French government in 1799 and became emperor in 1804. He was desperate to build a military empire, but a series of defeats led to his abdication and immediate exile in 1814.

In 1815, he returned to Paris with 1,000 supporters alongside him. The new king, Louis XVIII, promptly fled. With his ambitions for an empire rekindled, Napoleon then embarked on what came to be known as his Hundred Days campaign, prompting Britain, Prussia, Russia and Austria to declare war on him.

In June, he invaded Belgium, then part of the Netherlands, in the hope of capturing Brussels. Separate armies of British and Prussian troops were camped there. On June 16, Napoleon’s men defeated the Prussians, who were under the command of Gebhard Leberecht von Blucher. Two days later, his army faced Wellington, who was based south of Brussels, near Waterloo.

A significant factor leading to his defeat was his decision to wait until midday to attack the British. There had been heavy rain the previous evening and Napoleon wanted to allow the sodden ground to dry. However, the delay allowed Blucher’s remaining troops – as many as 30,000 according to some historians – time to march to Waterloo and join forces with the British. This proved crucial.

The two sides fought for ten hours. Napoleon committed a number of tactical errors and also appointed inappropriate men as commanders. The arrival of Blucher’s men tipped the balance against him. However, Wellington said afterwards that the victory was by no means crushing. He described the battle as ‘the nearest-run thing you ever saw in your life’.

The fighting ended when the outnumbered French retreated in defeat. Both sides faced horrific losses. Historians estimate that Napoleon’s army suffered more than 33,000 casualties, while British and Prussian casualties numbered around 22,000. The battle was the final defeat of Napoleon Bonaparte.

Wellington went on to serve as British Prime Minister, while Napoleon was forced to abdicate for a second and final time. He was exiled to the remote island of Saint Helena in the South Atlantic. He died there in 1821, at the age of 51.

Belgium hosted a major reconstruction of the battle, which included 5,000 actors and some 300 horses, while in Britain the National Army Museum hosted a collection of objects from the time. The Royal Albert Hall also staged a 200th anniversary concert, featuring a series of scenes and music.

Earlier this year, the earliest artistic image of the battlefield of Waterloo – depicting the naked bodies of fallen soldiers – went on display after being discovered in a private collection.

OPINION

Undoubtedly, the Battle of Waterloo was a decisive moment in European history. It was also one of Britain’s greatest military victories, albeit with strong support from the Prussians. Yet 200 years on, the commemorations are relatively muted. In-part that is just a consequence of the passage of time: the days of weapon-wielding cavalry and red-coated infantry seem impossibly remote. But it is also due to Britons being disinclined of tub-thumping over battlefield successes.

We celebrate the ends of conflicts: most notably that of two world wars, but the overriding emotions on those occasions tend to be sorrow and relief. Patriotism is normally the common feature that provides the backdrop of such commemorations, but jingoistic revelling in the success of British might is a feature that is distinctly absent.

Military events that really seem to capture our imagination are the unmitigated disasters or where Britain has found itself battling against the odds. Dunkirk is the prime example, an occasion which illustrates that, whilst not exactly victorious, the country was at least not defeated. Other synonymous military campaigns of Britishness that fall into a similar category include the Battle of Britain, Trafalgar, possibly too even the Falklands War – victories, yes, but very much defensive ones.

Whether we can commemorate war without guilt is a point often borne out. Seeing off potential invaders and being on the receiving end of almighty catastrophes might not require a complex debate about culpability, but commemoration treads a fine line with those who wish to glorify war in whatever shape or form. There again, we rarely celebrate Britain’s ‘successful’ wars of colonial aggression, either. Our roles in the toppling of Saddam Hussein in Iraq and the Taliban in Afghanistan, has led us more towards introspection than pride.

For all our past expeditionary vim – perhaps, even, because of it – Britain is not a militaristic nation. It is notable that public anxiety about the current cuts to the defence budget is relatively muted.

In France, there is far less appetite in commemorating Waterloo. But that may reflect the fact that, whereas Britons are cautiously wary of celebrating the victory, our neighbours in Europe still refuses to accept that Waterloo was a defeat.