Deaglán de Bréadún finally met his Waterloo. Literally. It is just a 20-kilometre train and bus journey from Brussels to the historic Waterloo battlefield.
It is a journalistic cliché to say that the fate of Europe is worked out in Brussels these days, but this was also true nearly 200 years ago. Napoleon and the Duke of Wellington met, not to exchange position-papers and negotiating-points, but with a view to wiping one another out.
Nowadays, the French and the British may spin against each other to the media for political advantage. We hear, for example, apocryphal stories about Chirac informing Blair he didn't want to be addressed with the intimate form tu, instead of vous, at the D-Day commemorations, although Chirac previously addressed Blair as tu in a message for the Prime Minister's 50th birthday. But on June 18th, 1815, coincidentally the date that the recent Constitutional Treaty negotiations were concluded, the two sides were involved in more than verbal niceties: they had gathered vast armies to do each other in.
One of the first things that strikes you about the battle-site is how small a space it is. No wonder the casualties were so high. Crops and vegetables grow where blood was spilled, and the soil that nourishes them was once, sadly, enriched by the flower of Europe's manhood, including Irish soldiers fighting on both sides.
The range of the guns, of course, was nothing like it is today. If they wanted to kill each other, they had to be close up. In modern warfare, you can kill thousands or even tens of thousands without ever seeing their faces.
Although much of the battlefield has been preserved in its original state, one's view is distorted by a huge monument built by the Dutch, who fought on the British side. The Lion Hill was declared open in 1826 and the steep climb to the top is not recommended to the elderly, infirm and short of breath. If you are not in the third category when you start out, you certainly will, by the time you reach the top.
When I visited, there were lots of folk in French and British uniforms of the period, marching about, beating drums, waving flags and generally enjoying themselves. It was all harmless fun, unlike the actual battle in which the numbers of killed, wounded or missing averaged 6,300 per hour over a 10-hour stretch.
Commerce has taken over from history and there was a lively trade in souvenirs. You could buy a replica of an old flintlock pistol for €29. Dead handy if you want to hold up a passing stagecoach. As a newspaper junkie, I naturally purchased the famous edition of the London Times dated June 22nd, 1815. This contains Wellington's comprehensive battle report, which brought the news of victory to London for the first time.
But even as these cataclysmic events were taking place on the Continent, daily life at home was proceeding as normal. The small ads in the Times include one for a 7 a.m. breakfast meeting of the Baptist Society for Promoting the Gospel in Ireland, dedicated to teaching the Scriptures to the Irish people in their native language.
Waterloo has been a commemoration site for a very long time. Some of its features are state of the art but, happily, more old-fashioned ones still remain, such as the Panorama of the battle which was painted by Louis Dumoulin and first displayed in 1912. But it still conveys a sense of the death and destruction both sides suffered that fateful day, despite the quaint signs that point to "De (sic) Duke of Wellington and his staff" or "The Prince of Orange and his suite" (i.e., retinue, not furniture).
A wax museum also looks more than a little timeworn but the models of Napoleon and his generals still retain a gripping, lifelike quality. The Emperor sits, deep in thought, his famous grey frock-coat drying by the fire. His generals, among them Marshal Ney, argue the toss, concerned about the bad weather and the effect the torrential rain will have upon the ground. The footsoldiers try to grab some sleep in a nearby outhouse, exhausted and damp. The glorious adventure of the "Hundred Days" which began with Napoleon's return from Elba is about to unravel.
I asked some English tourists for directions and felt, when they heard my Irish accent, that they were slightly embarrassed to be frolicking about with a Union Jack. But although the British under the Duke of Wellington won the day, Napoleon is the star of the battle-site. One of his proclamations, hanging on the wall and dated May 1st, 1815, opens as follows: "par la grace de Dieu, Empereur des Français, etc., etc., etc." The "etcs." reminds us that, whatever his other problems, Napoleon did not suffer from false modesty.
We all know and love Napoleon brandy but a sign on another wall reminds me of another drink named after him, "La bière des braves, Napoleon". Has there ever been an "Iron Duke's Iron Brew"? I doubt it. But although he did not like to be reminded of the fact, Wellington was a Meathman, and Meathmen are famously reticent and shy, except when playing Gaelic Football in Croke Park.
After their gruelling trek to the top of Lion Hill, visitors to Waterloo will be in need of refreshment and, for sheer 19th-century atmosphere and style, I recommend the Bivouac de l'Empereur tavern and restaurant.
Nowadays cooking smells, not gunsmoke, permeate the air around Waterloo and the people heading towards nearby Charleroi are not part of a retreating French army but, quite possibly, passengers on the next Ryanair flight to Dublin or London. After all, Michael O'Leary is our very own, latter-day - and some would say more successful - Napoleon.