The Alchemical Fires of Battle: Symbolism and Transformation in 'Waterloo'

By MatTehCat | The Cat's Mewsings | 27 Jun 2023

"War is the father of all things." - Heraclitus

Why do we fight? In the 1970 battle epic directed by Sergei Bondarchuk and produced by Dino De Laurentis, war's nature is revealed. Although the film was not well-received upon its initial release, it has gained something of a cult following, even inspiring notable directors like Peter Jackson. The film is known for its extraordinary historical accuracy and epic battle scenes, featuring real actors and realistic equipment, contributing to its authentic aesthetic. While the history of such a film is remarkable and deserves exploration, it also allows the viewer to meditate on war, battle, violence, and Man's place in the world. Today, I plan to explore the spiritual and esoteric elements of "Waterloo" by utilizing Julius Evola's work on war's metaphysics and his understanding of alchemy.

Understanding Evola's concept of war and battle as a spiritual endeavor is crucial. When Man's social order is in its proper position, the warrior's objective is not merely the preservation or wealth of his people, nor the pursuit of battle for its own sake. Instead, it is the pursuit of spiritual transcendence (Evola, a., pp. 21-27). Within an alchemical framework, this represents a radical or extra dry path (Evola, b., pp. 138-141), culminating in the final manifestation of the royal art: The Red Work (Evola, b., pp. 168-172). Being a radical path, it is highly volatile and can lead to the unnecessary dissolution of one's self. Examples of the radical course include the kamikaze pilots of World War Two or the jihadists who engage in combat against the encroachment of the modern West into their traditionalist societies. Ultimately, these warriors seek a form of spiritual transcendence through the mortification of the impure flesh.

This struggle exists at two levels: the greater war and the lesser war, which are topics also covered by Evola in his book "Revolt Against the Modern World." The lesser war refers to the physical battle, serving as an ascetic trial for the warrior. On the other hand, the greater war represents the internal struggle of man against his personal impurities and darker spirits (Evola, a., pp., 41-46).

Through his craft, the warrior can realize, as Arjuna does in the Hindu epic "The Mahabharata," that he is one with the divine. In combat, the divine moves through him, utilizing his primordial passion for His purposes. When the warrior achieves this spiritual connection of the heart and rides the meditative wave, he understands that he has unified himself with the immortal soul of the divine. Just as the divine soul is eternal and purifying, the warrior realizes his immortality and ability to purify all things (Evola, a., pp. 47-53).

His death or personal transcendence through the greater and lesser wars unites him with the spirit and soul of the warrior, connecting him to his brothers and immortalizing him. The Nordic conception of Valhalla and the Roman tradition of the "mors triumphalis" exhibit similar motifs (Evola, a., pp. 28-34).

If he has truly grasped the nature of a warrior, the warrior is not bound to a specific people, land, or organization. Instead, he is connected to the divine and embodies his will in its primordial form. Once this understanding is achieved, the conventional notion of a warrior tied to his "people," in a modern and degenerated sense, loses its significance. While he may still fight for his people, he is more inclined to find camaraderie and unity with warriors from other nations or races than with craftsmen or laborers from his. As a symbol that universally and spiritually unites men of this caste, the warrior becomes eternalized and immortal, with his heart representing the heart of any warrior, anywhere, who has undergone the same spiritual awakening.

When considering the film "Waterloo," it is not surprising that the depiction of neither the French, the Anglo-Saxon Alliance, nor the Prussians portrays them in a strongly negative or virtuous light. Instead, we witness Napoleon, Wellington, and Blücher as individuals grappling with the challenges posed by the world, each other, and even their souls. The film successfully conveys the existence of a shared warrior spirit and soul, at the very least.

As the central figure, Napoleon embodies the warrior's spirit when he is not united with the divine and mistakenly attributes the source of change to his soul—his ego. In other words, Napoleon's ego becomes inflated and excessive. However, he is justified in considering himself as France's rightful sovereign. Yet, at the film's beginning, we witness his abdication from the throne because he has run out of options: he cannot mobilize, fight, or consolidate his power. Consequently, he must retreat to the isle of Alba, which the film depicts in passive colors—blue, white, and green—symbolizing its subdued nature. Nevertheless, he manages to escape.

Napoleon's fiery animal spirit, represented by his passionate ego, combines with Elba’s passive vegetative elements, allowing him to seize the opportunity and strike at the perfect moment. Under the rule of the corpulent Louis XVIII, whom the French did not favor and whose policies caused them distress, France descended into chaos. Recognizing the situation's potential before him and amid escalating conflicts among the European powers, Napoleon sets out for the French mainland with a small contingent of forces. Although Louis XVIII attempts to dispatch troops to stop him, it becomes evident that they lack loyalty towards the king. In a remarkable scene portrayed by Rod Steiger, Napoleon approaches a line of infantry and utters the following words: "Soldiers of the 5th, do you recognize me? If... you want to kill your emperor... here I am... Fire!" As a soldier collapses, the rest of the troops lower their arms and join Napoleon's forces. Interestingly, this happened on multiple occasions, leading to Napoleon eventually reclaiming his throne from Louis XVIII, who, fearing death at the hands of the people, fled France.

Napoleon, a truly solar figure, asserts himself as the rightful French king and emperor with the support of the people. He states that he found the crown in the gutter, picked it up with his sword, demonstrating his martial prowess, and was crowned not by himself but by the people. However, despite his genius, as the leader of France, he lacks at least one essential quality: he appears to be irreligious. His lack of religiosity is evident in statements such as "God has nothing to do with [his success or failure]" and his apparent disregard for the church bells on the day of battle: Sunday. As a result, he fails to serve as a bridge between the worldly and the divine. In the end, failure must be Napoleon's destiny because he does not (is unwilling to) unite the spiritual and material realms or perceive them.

Despite Napoleon's irreligiosity and his fatal qualities, there are moments when we can sympathize with him. One such instance occurs when he arrives in Brussels on a stormy night and falls ill with what appears to be a fever. At this moment, we witness his struggle with his earthly nature. The dark forces of his material soul clash against his ego, which lacks the purifying light and spirit of the divine, diminishing his fire and foreshadowing his downfall. This internal struggle against his material nature mirrors, and may even be equivalent to, the greater spiritual war warriors fight within themselves. Hence, other warriors can find resonance between their struggles and Napoleon's during these moments.

Moreover, Napoleon loves his son profoundly and longs to bring him back from the Austrian’s custody. He desires to leave his son a legacy, not merely of his glory, which is immaterial and transcendent—and I believe he has indeed achieved this—but also (presumably) the throne itself: France and the right to be called sovereign. His love for his son and the people of France, even if tinged with his grandiose and fiery ego, portrays him as a guardian of this world. If only he had recognized his role as a bridge between this world and the next, he could have better fulfilled his duty as a manifestation of Man's guardian and shepherd; in other words, the divine.

Arthur, also known as Wellington, contrasts Napoleon's character throughout the film. We first encounter Wellington at the Duchess of Richmond's ball, where a storm rages outside the ballroom, symbolizing Napoleon's impending advance. The hanging candelabras above the ballroom further accentuate the notion that these men are infused with the sacred flame of the divine, even if they are not fully aware of it. This sacred quality is exemplified by Wellington's demeanor, as he remains composed during intense moments, displays mercy, and frequently references God's qualities. Napoleon appears to lack these attributes, while Wellington embodies them abundantly. Wellington demonstrates his willingness to fight for his country and his ability to lead his men into battle and inspire them. He treats his soldiers with kindness and gentleness, contrasting Napoleon, who often comes across as demanding and excessively strict. Based on his portrayal in the film, one could infer that Wellington represents the primordial essence of the warrior soul, which suppresses or subdues the animalistic and "monstrous" aspects of the warrior soul when it becomes unbridled, undisciplined, and destructive. In this sense, Wellington represents the sacred fire that must confront and counter Napoleon's destructive forces, ultimately leading him toward his unification and harmony with the divine.

The battlefield of Waterloo, along with Napoleon's, Wellington's, and Blücher's armies, serves as a significant backdrop in the narrative. Under the leadership of their respective commanders, these armies symbolize men engaged in the warrior's rite of passage. They must submit to the hierarchical command, act as a cohesive unit, recognize themselves in their comrades' eyes, rely on one another, and be dependable. They symbolize the stone that undergoes the alchemical fire to purify its excesses and attain spiritual potency. While the generals had their challenges at Waterloo, the soldier's trial by fire primarily lies in their struggle against the elements and nature, which awakens their awareness of the inner war within. They endure harsh rain, treacherous and impassable terrain, sensory obscurity caused by tall grass and trees, suffocating smoke, the combat's cacophony, the heat of cannon and musket fire, the thundering hooves of horses, and cuts from steel blades. They must submit to a higher authority as soldiers and embody men who have unified themselves with the divine or understand themselves as a manifestation of the divine fire. Through their endurance and triumph over these adversities, they rise in their ranks, achieve higher positions, and develop a deep understanding of the warrior's path.

The soldiers' struggle with the environment holds significant alchemical symbolism. These men symbolize unrefined souls in need of transformation. The rain that precedes the battle signifies the precipitation of spiritual and otherworldly forces, preparing the ground for the day’s trial. The white smoke or dust created by the soldiers and their horses symbolizes purifying forces, similar to mercury or its cleansing waters, that catalyze spiritual transformation and progress. Once they enter these mercurial and dissolving waters, they expose themselves to the intense heat of battle, akin to a flame that further dissolves the impurities of their earthly souls. The soldiers’ deaths also carry great significance. The soldier's ability to react and adapt amidst combat is his ultimate test, enabling them to transcend the limitations that hinder his progress. Those who are lost, those who die in battle, represent the parts of themselves that must be dissolved, metaphorically dying in the alchemical mercury and fire to give rise to the Novum Homo, the new human. A soldier can only truly understand this transformative ordeal if he has adequately prepared his spirit and soul beforehand. Those soldiers in the film who are unprepared for this trial fail to understand the purpose of their fight and question how they can harm one another in such a manner. The film's resolution implicitly provides an answer: "We must leave this place of dead flesh." It emphasizes the need for spiritual preparation for the world that awaits us.

Within the film, no character better embodies this than Napoleon's Imperial Guard, also known as the Old Guard. Napoleon, believing he has pushed Wellington's troops back, orders his most loyal soldiers to advance, representing his unwavering determination. However, as they reach Wellington's ridge, they are suddenly met with a devastating barrage of close-range fire from concealed enemies in the brush. Some of the Old Guard retreat, but others stand their ground. Unfortunately, Napoleon faces an attack from the Prussians on his right flank after they outmaneuver Grouchy, one of Napoleon’s generals. With no reinforcements available, Napoleon becomes trapped with no escape route. Surrounded by the British forces, the remaining Imperial Guard chooses to fight rather than surrender. Wellington offers them a chance to submit, but they defiantly resist and are eventually annihilated by British cannons. In the end, they experience the “mors triumphalis.”

Ultimately, Napoleon succumbs to nature, represented by the Prussian forces with their dark-blue uniforms, which give them a black appearance. His fire is extinguished as he is overwhelmed by the abyssal waters of the nigredo. The film's conclusion reinforces this symbolism. As night falls and the battle concludes, Wellington surveys the vast number of dead bodies under the dim light of a full moon, partially obscured by black smoke. The forces of nature overshadowed Napoleon's spirit because he ultimately failed to acknowledge his role as a vessel for a higher power. His failure to understand himself as a divine manifestation led to the loss of his sovereignty. On a symbolic level, Napoleon's sun sets on a Sunday, marking the beginning of a new European epoch, which remained free from continental wars for the next hundred years.

Modern individuals grapple with understanding the profound significance of the warrior's journey and the role violence plays in achieving spiritual fulfillment. His immersion in a materialistic mindset prevents him from recognizing the underlying spiritual essence amidst the material world. This limitation stems from his tendency to view material things solely within the confines of his theoretical understanding, blinding him to the spiritual core and transcendent light existing beyond his theories. However, to venture beyond the material realm without proper preparation risks descending into chaotic and dark waters. Lacking the spiritual will and unity with the divine fire, modern man seeks solace in material possessions, constructing an identity based on consumption, unaware that he is becoming consumed by them. Although modern man's struggle may differ from historical figures like Napoleon, Wellington, or Blücher and their soldiers, his battle lies in breaking free from the materialistic mode that threatens to dissolve him. Fortunately, this struggle gives rise to individuals capable of surviving the challenges of the contemporary era, i.e., the Iron Age or Kali Yuga. Amidst the turmoil and chaos of this era, those who transcend the limitations of the material realm emerge, embracing the warrior's path where the sacred and violence intertwine, discovering solace in the profound depths of spirituality, transcending the illusory shadows of the mundane.