London: A few weeks ago, a journalist from Le Figaro asked France’s ministry of foreign affairs who would be attending the 200th anniversary ceremony at Waterloo. “When is it?” was the reply.
Two centuries on, the French are still in denial about Waterloo. To understand why, you have to bear in mind a quotation by the 19th-century historian Jules Michelet: “The war of wars is England against France. All the rest are mere episodes.” The defeat at Waterloo was the humiliation of humiliations. French chauvinists still refuse to accept that Napoleon lost. (Napoleon himself had declared: “History is a series of lies on which we all agree.”) For example Dominique de Villepin, French PM from 2005 to 2007 called Waterloo a “defeat (that) shines with the aura of victory”. His argument seems to be that by standing alone against Britain, Prussia, Russia and Austria, Napoleon was the tragic hero of his era, who effectively scored a moral victory on 18 June 1815.
Even this line, though, is subtle compared to Victor Hugo, who appears to have believed that the defiance of General Cambronne changed the meaning of the battle. “The Garde knows how to die,” Cambronne is supposed to have pronounced, “but not how to surrender.” In fact, Cambronne, who lived on until 1842, denied saying anything of the sort. Another version tells that when called upon to surrender, he had shouted back “Merde!”
Cambronne’s riposte became part of French mythology, breeding notions of triumph. Villepin explains that after Waterloo, impoverished France turned its back on the British-led Industrial Revolution and concentrated on small-scale production — of clothes, scents, luxury goods — creating industries of global significance today. Where are England’s factories?
French historians who acknowledge the débâcle at Waterloo explain it away. Napoleon had haemorrhoids at the time. There is also talk of a bladder problem, even syphilis — anything to establish he was below peak for the big match. Then, of course, he was let down by his marshals — Ney led the cavalry into attack too early in the battle; Soult contrived to lose vital orders; de Grouchy breakfasted on strawberries when he should have been scouring for the Prussians.
The most virulent French criticism has been reserved for the greatest marshal of all: God. Heavy rain the night before the battle created sticky mud which made it difficult for Napoleon to move his cannon. June is Belgium’s fourth wettest month; nevertheless Hugo declared the downpour supernatural. In Les Misérables, he states that Napoleon “bothered God”, who considered that the Corsican was changing history. Even so, the Bonapartistes believe, Wellington had been soundly beaten, and was saved only by Blucher’s Prussian troops. Nevertheless, in Napoleon’s report, dictated two days after the battle, he stated that by late afternoon, “the Army was able to look with satisfaction upon a battle won”.
He went on to describe the Prussians’ intervention and the subsequent French rout. The clear implication was that the day had been tied one-all, and he wanted a rematch. Many French voices are unaffected by the mythologising. Left politicians are disinclined towards sympathy for a war leader who censored the press and reintroduced slavery in his colonies. Former Socialist Prime Minister Lionel Jospin recently published a tome with the title Le Mal Napoléonien. But to such reasoning the Emperor’s devotees always have a simple answer: “Merde!”
By arrangement with the Spectator
