Thoughts after a history symposium

One accidental benefit of the tragic and in many cases avoidable circumstances which have resulted in large portions of the world being obliged to work from home in 2020-21 is that conferences and academic symposia have moved online and thus become easy to attend from the comfort of one's own home. I myself am presenting at a couple of literary conferences in mid-2021, one of which I most likely would not have been able to attend had this situation not arisen. And I was very fortunately, as far as time differences allowed, able to attend a free history symposium over the weekend of 18th-21st March hosted by the University of Louisiana. I'm not a historian; I have a PhD, but in English literature. I've never studied history at a tertiary level, and only get involved in it as a hobby. As such I was very glad that the hosts of the conference "Napoleon and his Legacy: Warfare, Politics and Society" made attendance so easy.

I was initially attending to see the roundtable discussion of podcasters who specialise in the Napoleonic Wars, fan that I am of Everett Rummage's Age of Napoleon podcast. And yet the two other sessions I was able to attend in full given the time difference, and which particularly interested me, were the opening and closing keynotes given by Professor Michael Broers and Professor Emeritus Charles Esdaile respectively.

I don't make much of a show of my interest in European, and particularly Napoleonic, history on this blog because it's rarely terribly relevant. Of the two academics in question, I only own one book by Broers, Europe under Napoleon, and one by Esdaile, Napoleon, France and Waterloo. I believe that Broers has something of a reputation as a Napoleon enthusiast, not just of the era but of the man himself; in the Open Letters Review, Steve Donoghue accuses Broers of engaging in "damage-control for the pestiferous little Corsican" in the second volume of Broers' work of Napoleonic biography, The Spirit of the Age. Esdaile has a reputation very much on the opposite side, with none other than political-strongman apologist Andrew Roberts referring to Esdaile's work Napoleon's Wars: An International History as "the Case for the Prosecution".

Professor Esdaile's closing address in particular attracted considerable discussion, as those who do not cast Bonaparte in a favourable light often do. The usual questions were asked of why he was so intent on criticising Napoleon. Yet the answer is perfectly clear. For those unfamiliar with it, Bonaparte was, for all of his alleged military and administrative genius, a particular expert at PR and propaganda, making himself appear not only particularly gifted, competent and fair in general, but also personally responsible for numerous achievements which are either exaggerated or were largely the work of other people.

Putting aside the issue of his personal achievements and any other qualities like his supposedly enormous energy, (sometimes) charming personality and reformist approach, it is fairly clear, deep down, why Napoleon appeals: he won a lot of battles. He made a number of pithy remarks. He adopted a unique and distinctive aesthetic. Furthermore, he positioned himself, and was positioned by others, as the "fun" and exciting rebel opposed to both the French aristocracy, pampered, decadent and foolish, and the British, who can easily be portrayed as the boring, fusty establishment — while also ruthlessly expansionist — sitting on the sidelines for much of the era paying (or pretending to pay) other countries to fight France on their behalf. It's little wonder that for years after his death, French political activists, often young liberal-minded students who had never lived under his authoritarian regime and would probably have opposed it if they had, would, in times of turmoil, call out "Vive l'Empereur!" and dress up as him to protest and riot. Napoleon doesn't represent oppression, conscription, taxation, broad governmental power, soldiers thrown into the meat grinder of terrible battles like Borodino or Waterloo. He is two fingers up to the regime in power.

I don't think Napoleon was a particularly nice person (in fact I think he often comes across as self-absorbed and tiresome, and his "friends" and associates probably walked on eggshells around him), and I think above all his greatest crimes are the thousands of pointless deaths of soldiers that must be laid at his feet, just as much as they may have equally been the responsibility of other European potentates who refused to let his empire become hegemonic in Europe. This, of course, is in addition to the sexism he institutionalised in the Civil Code, the racist policies and colonial atrocities for which he and his administration were responsible, and his fundamentally anti-democratic subversion of the popular will in his usurpation and centralisation of power within himself. And even if it is true (which it may or may not be) that he may have been no worse than other political and military figures of his time, and even if we are for some reason inclined to overlook or justify all the death, misery and oppression originating from him, Napoleon may be interesting, sometimes even funny in his ridiculous pomposity just as, at times, he seems remarkable in drive and strength of will. But I do not think that he was an especially extraordinary man except insofar as he was extraordinary in his capacity to make himself appear extraordinary. If the Napoleonic Wars were, as their name and some of their causes suggest, about making war against Napoleon himself just as much as they were about determining the balance of power in Europe after the French Revolution, then they were finally won, six years after Waterloo, on St Helena, where Napoleon, in the instant of his death (and as a consequence of much reputation-management beforehand) transformed into the very genius he wished for people to think of himself as by virtue of the lasting, often quite absurd, legend that arose around him. The British did the worst thing they could have possibly done by imprisoning him in such a remote and inhospitable place. Rather than defanging him, they proved to the world that he was so dangerous, and therefore in the eyes of many so incredibly formidable, that he had to be sent far away so as to do no harm. The British made him "great", far more than he did himself.

This is, I think, the argument that Esdaile was making at the symposium I attended, or at least it's the idea that many Napoleonic scholars and historians seem to miss; that one must be very suspicious of all "facts" to see where the truth really lies. Napoleon is only one example, but a particularly good one due to the enormous extent to which he, his supporters, and historical writing, have most likely transformed him into something he was not. It seems unscientific to allow a man whose entire goal was to make himself look good get away with it simply because, as a result of what he may represent, people want to let him do it.