Book Review: Napoleon The Great, Andrew Roberts

Some years back now, Andrew Roberts produced this whopping great tome on 'The Little Corporal', for all of us Napoleonic history nuts to add to our already sagging shelves.

I was mightily miffed at the time, as, shortly after shelling out top dollar for the extremely handsome hardback, it was offered free to numerous Amazon Vine reviewers, of which I'm one... but not to me. I suspect that I'm one of the most Napoleon-obsessed reviewers on the Vine programme. It still rankles, thinking about it, even now.

An early example of Bonaparte's correspondence.*

Roberts says he drew heavily on the recently augmented/republished letters of Napoleon, who was legendary for his voluminous correspondence, when writing this book. It's interesting to see how he, Roberts that is, has changed his tune, re Napoleon; in his much smaller book on Churchill and Hitler and their leadership styles, published some years earlier, he was quite dismissive, referring to 'otherwise intelligent' people (or some such similar phrase) being seduced by the Napoleonic myth, or aura.

The iconic bicorne.*

He's subsequently said, in several TV and radio appearances around the time this much larger book came out, that researching his subject brought him round to a position of awe and admiration. And that's a good thing, I think, as a lot of British and American authors writing on Napoleon, from Corelli Barnett to Stephen Pinker, have sought to perpetuate the view of Napoleon as little more than a bloodthirsty warmonger, a picture not very far from the pure propaganda of the Gillray cartoons, or the 'Black Legend' of the era itself.

A volume of the the Code Civil.*

Roberts writes well, balancing his scholarly credentials with a style sufficiently straightforward and exciting to keep the reader jogging along nicely. It's clear he relishes the military side of the story, which he relates very well. But he also covers the other bases, such as Napoleon the politician, law-maker, and even husband, father, and so on. Indeed, one of the areas where Roberts does allow himself to partake of traditional criticisms is Napoleon's oft ill-advised use of his family.

An example of the Legion d'Honneur.*

I really enjoyed this book, and whilst in many areas it simply relates things already covered by other writers, Roberts' enthusiasm for his subject helps makes this a worthwhile read. In researching and writing this pretty hefty work Roberts clearly came to view Napoleon as a 'Great Man', hence the title. This is by no means a hagiography, but I think he makes a pretty solid case that if anyone of the period deserves to be called The Great, Napoleon would be that man.

Andrew Roberts.

* Apart from the cover and author pics, images accompanying this post were cilled from the Fondation Napoleon website.

Book Review: Hitler & Churchill, Secrets of Leadership - Andrew Roberts

Subtitled 'Secrets of Leadership', this book grew, I believe, out of a radio programme of the same title Roberts produced for the BBC. It's an excellent book: an easy yet compelling read, in just over 200 pages Roberts uses that old 'compare and contrast' m.o. to examine these two Titans of 20th C. history.

Both Hitler and Churchill...

... liked wearing military uniforms.

This is the first of Roberts' books I've read in which his Tory position is made quite so plain, as he refers very disparagingly to liberals and the left, and their ideas, in a manner bordering at times on glib. Interestingly, however, whilst he's still an ardent Tory, Roberts' views on some issues appear to have evolved since this was written (2003); if you'd only read this book, you might find his later book Napoleon the Great somewhat surprising.

However, if the above sound like the potential criticisms they indeed are, nevertheless, this book remains an excellent and by and large very balanced examination of its complex, fascinating and difficult subjects. And what compelling subjects they are!

Both were powerful orators, capable of inspiring...

... who knew the power and drama of rhetoric.

Having said this, there is a slight (other reviews I've read prefer to say an extreme) imbalance, and in more than one way, in that the book not only gives Churchill more column space, ending with a study on how he's been perceived since his passing, but also falls in step with the vast majority of post WWII literature on the two men, in its fulsome praise of Churchill and sometimes crowing dismissals of Hitler.

But when the case is argued as eloquently and convincingly as Roberts does here, it's hard to disagree. And, in broad brushstroke terms, I personally don't. Nor is this book purely or simply Churchill hagiography vs Hitler as fall-guy punchbag. The failings of the former, and the strengths of the latter are examined.

Both understood the power ...

... of simple propaganda.

Roberts says very early in his book that he separates Hitler and Churchill by describing the former as a charismatic leader, and the latter as inspirational. To learn what what he means by that might require that you read this book. I'd highly recommend that you do.

A fascinating polemic which, despite not sharing the authors' politics, I thoroughly enjoyed reading.

Book Review: Waterloo, Napoleon's Last Gamble - Andrew Roberts

A concise, pacey, and highly readable account of Waterloo.

This slim volume on one history's most famous battles is part of Harper Perennial's Making History Series, written by author, historian, and occasional battlefield guide, Andrew Roberts. 

I enjoyed Andrew Roberts' rather grand Napoleon The Great a lot - and there was quite a lot of it to enjoy! It's good to see that he delivers equally well at a humbler scale. 

Waterloo, Napoleon's Last Gamble, is certainly a real pleasure to read, being as clear, concise, and yet as comprehensive as one might reasonably hope for, in a book this small that deals with an event of such large import.

Napoleonic history is very often a question of scale, as Gillray knew.

After a brief introduction that neatly encapsulates both the enduring historical significance of Waterloo - frequently described, in a view Roberts himself embraces, as the end of 'the long eighteenth century' - and it's equally enduring fascination, Roberts then sets out the more specific context of the Waterloo campaign. 

For the battle itself Roberts adopts the chronological 'five phase' structure, as favoured by a number of other authors on this potentially confusing topic. And I have to say that this really does help simplify the battle, and make comprehension of it that much easier. 

Whilst many other things frequently occur within these five phases, each has a defining central event: phase one sees the French attack the forward position at Hougoumont; phase two finds D'Erlon's massed infantry attacking the Anglo-Allied centre; by phase three much is happening across the whole battlefield, but the central event is the series of massed French cavalry charges. 

Waves of French cavalry break on the sturdy Allied squares.

Phase four has two major facets: the French finally take La Haye Sainte, bringing artillery to bear on Wellington's tattered centre; but Napoleon's good fortune there is swiftly nullified elsewhere, by Prussians arriving in ever greater numbers on his right flank, taking Plancenoit.

The fifth and final phase really sums up Roberts subtitle, as Napoleon makes a last throw of Fortune's dice, sending in the Guard. But the 'invincibles' are defeated, after which the French crumble and are thoroughly routed, harried by the combined Anglo-Allied and Prussian forces.

Throughout all these phases the action is covered with an eye for both the big picture and the little details, making for a compelling read. The whole is then finished off with a pithy conclusion. Numerous controversies are addressed, some dismissed, others remaining open to debate. And the whole is thoroughly enjoyable and satisfying. 

If one were being the harshest of critics, like Hazel Mills in her 2005 review of this book for the Guardian (here), one might easily argue that this little book verges on the redundant, simply recycling material that's already out there. 

The author, and a French Dragoon helmet.

Indeed, I felt this was also largely true, despite his undoubted efforts to restore some lustre to the sometimes tarnished English view of Napoleon, and despite all the stuff about access to and use of a new edition of Napoleon's correspondence, of his Napoleon The Great.

In this book on Waterloo Roberts includes one previously unpublished letter - 'in the possession of the author' - by a Major Robert Dicks (who fought at Waterloo in the 42nd Royal Highland Regt, aka the Black Watch), as Appendix I of his three appendices. 

Written before the battle, it's more about the Duchess of Richmond's Ball (and Dicks' own career prospects) than the forthcoming battle, and seems to me of only very marginal historical interest. Still, if I had such a letter I'd be excited and keen to share it with the world! 

But, unlike the following Appendix II, 'Captain Fortuné de Brack's Letter of 1835', Dicks' missive contains no great revelations. De Brack's letter, which has appeared in print a few times before, is reproduced (as is Appendix III, Wellington's Waterloo Dispatch) in an edited form, and pertains to the battle itself, and phase three - the massed French cavalry charges - in particular. 

De Brack was an officer in the Red Lancers, of the Imperial Guard.

In it, this relatively lowly lancer officer appears to suggest that his own impetuosity might have triggered the cavalry attacks: his loudly articulated belief that the English were already doomed to lose, combined with a desire amongst his unit to move forward slightly, he claims, got amplified as the line shuffled forwards; what started as simply dressing the line grew into a swell that eventually burst, as the eager cavalry felt their moment had arrived.

As intriguing as this is, it's not news anymore. But personally none of this bothers me, as I don't feel that a book on this topic necessarily requires new insights or arguments to justify its existence. What this undoubtedly is is a concise and exciting account, another voice - and an erudite and eloquent one at that - in the ongoing literary conversation on this climactic epoch-ending epoch-making battle.

I thoroughly enjoyed it, and suspect that all but the most fussy of Napoleonic buffs (and admittedly there are plenty of those!) will love it to.

Book Review: Clisson & Eugenie - Napoleon Bonaparte

An interesting little historical curio. Gallic Books have done all of us Napoleonic buffs a great service in making this foray into the literary milieu, by a very young Napoleon Bonaparte, easily available. It's also very attractively presented, and supplemented by critical and historical commentary.

Reading this product of the young Napoleon's imagination is both fascinating and informative, in all manner of ways. But, as others have already noted elsewhere (in the newspaper reviews, and reader reviews at Amazon, etc.), the Clisson and Eugénie story itself is a rather slight affair, of about only 18 or so pages, and was never even actually finished by Napoleon. 

This slim paperback edition attempts to 'complete' the story, using several fragments of Bonaparte's writings and, as already mentioned, is bulked out by critical commentary and other notes.

The younger Désirée Clary (or Bernardine Eugénie Désirée Clary, to give her name in full), who Napoleon fell in love with, and was even engaged to, and who gives her name to the female lover in Napoleon's story.

Clisson and Eugénie's main themes are love and war, themes that would remain central in Napoleon's real historical life. But, rather sadly perhaps, Bonaparte's treatment of these ever-fascinating themes in a literary context does not achieve, or even come close to in my estimation, great literature. Still, the story does give an intriguing view into the mind of this amazing man.

It's clearly draws on aspects of his real life: the central character, Clisson (a name taken from a childhood colleague) is a military man, and yet also a yearning romantic, and clearly stands for Napoleon. The story, such as it is, concerns his struggle between choosing to love Eugenie, and his mission to be a warrior. 

It's intriguing that in his real life he would, by marrying Marie-Louise for example, do as his character in this story does, and prioritise the 'destiny' of his career over personal love. Is this life imitating art? Certainly Napoleon viewed himself like a classical hero, a fact borne out in both this book and his actual career.

Whilst the feel of the story is quite pseudo-classical at times, in the sense of aspiring to certain heroic ideals, much of it is also, both stylistically and thematically, quite mundane. One of the prosaic facets is the way in which Napoleon takes names such as Eugénie and Clisson from his real life experience.

In his story Napoleon grants himself a period of pastoral idyll with his beloved. This rather expands upon the barer and more mundane truth of the frustrated or compromised romance he actually had with one Desirée Eugénie Clary. 

She was his sister-in-law, via the marriage of her sister, Marie Julie Clary, to Napoleon's elder brother, Joseph. Napoleon was actually engaged to her for a while, only breaking off the engagement to marry Joséphine de Beauharnais. Fortune certainly appeared to favour the Clary sisters at this time! Ultimately fickle fate favoured Desirée most of all, as she wound up Queen of Sweden, starting a dynasty that survives to the present.

Queen Desideria, or the lady formerly known as Désirée Clary, who did rather well for herself by marrying Charles XIV John of Sweden, or the man formerly known as Jean-Baptiste Bernadotte. 

As Andrew Roberts continually points out in his recent book Napoleon the Great, Bonaparte certainly was a man of letters, at least in one respect; his correspondence was volcanically prodigious. But despite several stabs at literary genres, including this effort and an even earlier entry for an essay competition, he never really became what's classically meant by the term 'man of letters'.

If I were scoring this purely for historical interest, or even quality of presentation, I might well give it five bicornes. On the other hand, if I were scoring it for literary interest, merit, or enjoyment, then I would only give it two. So, by way of compromise and balance, I'll settle for three: it's okay! 

The way the text has been editorially 'completed' is quite intriguing; using a process akin to Christopher Tolkien's, as when he syncretised a superb completion of his father's tale about Hurin (and as he has done for numerous other unfinished works by his illustrious forbear, including The Silmarillion). But the core text is less interesting in and of itself, any value or fascination lying with the fact of who the author was, and what it therefore reflects about his mind and ideas, etc.

Napoleon dictating to Las Cases on St. Helena: he was always a keen dictater! And was always better at (never happier, perhaps?) dictating to others.

Some have said that Napoleon's greatest work of fiction (or works of fiction, as there are several post-Waterloo writings attributed to him, transmitted to posterity via the hands of other writers [2]) are his St. Helena memoirs. Certainly they make better and more substantial reading than this slight effort.

Anyway, whenever I would come across references to Clisson & Eugenie in other books, as one occasionally does, I always thought to myself, 'I must read that!' So I'm glad Gallic Books have made it easy to get hold of. But as to the text itself, compared with Napoleon's other achievements, or at least the history that he helped write via his actions, it's pretty disappointing. I'd say this is one for the most desicated of Napoleonic buffs only!

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NOTES:

[1] Bernadotte's life is amazing: he travelled a long and winding road, from private in the French royal army, via Marshal of France under Napoleon, to King of Sweden. Indeed, the House of Bernadotte still reigns in Sweden!

[2] These works include memoirs by several close to Napoleon in his last years on St. Helena, including both Bourienne and Las Cases. The former's rendering of his master's memoirs can be read for free online, at Project Gutenberg:

http://www.gutenberg.org/files/3567/3567-h/3567-h.htm

There's also a useful and (I think) quite attractive paperback - country cousin to a de-luxe fine book edition - in which 'editor Somerset De Chair organized Napoleon's random dictated memoirs into an historically useful sequence' (that quote comes from an AbeBooks listing). I have that on my 'to read ASAP' shelf, and will doubtless post a review here when I do finally get round to reading it!