THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON
The full title is The
Duke of Wellington Mounted on Copenhagen as at Waterloo
This portrait by Sir Thomas Lawrence was painted in 1818.
Lawrence (1769-1830) was a revered portrait artist of the eighteenth century
and today is considered by many to be the last truly great one. He was a master
at combining the new Romantic ideas with the classical tradition. The painting
is in the private collection of Earl Bathurst at Cirencester Park, the Bathurst
country estate. It is an oil painting on canvas and measures 156 x 6 inches (13
x 8 feet; 396 x 244cm).
In this portrait of the Duke of Wellington, you get a real
sense of the battlefield, with the cannon smoke in the background, the fading
sunlight as the General rides away from the scene of his most famous victory,
his hat held aloft in salute. Indeed, you can almost smell the smoke and powder
residue. Yet the focus is clearly on the Duke and his illustrious horse,
Copenhagen.
Described by French artist Delacroix as ‘a flower of
politeness’ and by that assertion it can therefore be supposed a gentleman,
Lawrence has, with great subtlety, created an imposing image of both an English
aristocrat and a commander. The Duke is wearing the same uniform and Copenhagen
carries the arms and saddlecloth that they used on 18th June 1815.
When the painting was exhibited at the Royal Academy, it was listed as The Duke of Wellington in the dress that he
wore and on the horse that he rode, at the battle of Waterloo.
Copenhagen was, of course, the horse Wellington rode for the
whole of that momentous day – a stretch of almost eighteen hours. He is
frequently termed a charger, for that is a suitable appellation for a battle
horse, although the reality is he was not often required to perform that role.
A general’s mount has to remain steady and calm under fire and yet be fleet
enough of foot to convey his master to any part of the battlefield in moments.
Copenhagen was the ideal general’s mount.
He is depicted by Sir Thomas Lawrence as a rich chestnut,
his neck arched in a pose which subtly suggests arrogance and superiority. It
has been suggested that he appears to be doing a lateral movement seen in the
higher levels of competition dressage – a movement called ‘shoulder in’, where
the horse travels at a slight angle, his body turned away from the direction he
is moving. I can see where the idea has come from, since such suppling
positions, aside from being natural movements witnessed in horses at play,
originally were developed as both defensive and offensive measures when man
first saw the potential of mounted combat. The ‘airs above the ground’, such as
the courbette, the croupade, the pirouette, the levade and
the capriole demand high levels of
athleticism and skill from the horse as well as the rider. Medieval knights
spent hours schooling their prized war horses to be quick, responsive and
nimble. The shoulder in, for example, which is one of the best suppling
exercises, can be used to prevent an enemy foot soldier getting close enough to
strike a blow at the rider, or even to barge him to the ground. In this
painting, the Duke demonstrates by his balance, depth of seat and easy carriage
in the saddle, that he was an accomplished horseman, well capable of such
disciplines.
However, that is not my perception, as someone who loves
horses and drawing but is no art expert.
Copenhagen was the preferred height for a cavalry horse,
standing just above fifteen hands (a hand equals four inches, measured to the
base of the neck where it joins the body). The Duke was a fairly tall man,
which is evident from the length of his legs in the stirrups, and yet
Copenhagen is not made to appear pony-like. The pose gives him a powerful
presence, the raised forefoot indicating a touch of impatience and even demand.
His eye is merely suggested with a speck of white paint, but it is enough, for
it cleverly hints at the horse’s supreme confidence and bold character. This,
it says, is a horse who knows his own worth; a horse with attitude. He has that
indefinable quality which draws the eye. It could be simply the artistry of
Lawrence, emphasizing those elegant limbs and clean lines of what is a compact
frame, but I prefer to think it is the persona of the horse shining through.
History tells us that Copenhagen inherited his grandsire
Eclipse’s difficult temperament and my story Copenhagen’s Last Charge is built around an incident that reflected
this. It was that very attitude, that lack of respect for the human race – with
the exception of Wellington himself – which helped to create that aura of
supremacy Lawrence has captured so well. It is that strength of personality and
inherent arrogance which made him not only universally popular, but has
chiselled his name into the annals of history as one of the greatest war horses
ever foaled.
Doubtless his grooms called him by some stable name, but I
suspect it would not have been too complimentary! Did the Duke do so too? As a
man whose public image was austere and stern, it is hard to imagine, but
perhaps, out of the public eye, in the Ice House Paddock at Stratfield Saye,
the Duke’s Hampshire estate, Copenhagen and his master enjoyed a few moments
when they both laid aside their egos and admitted how much each owed the other.
Copenhagen enjoyed a long and happy retirement at Stratfield
Saye and there are two very different portraits of him painted during those
peaceful years. James Ward portrayed him in a landscape somewhat larger, I
suspect, than his Ice House Paddock, with mane and tail shaggy indications of
an unfettered existence after his years of service. The stallion’s ears are
pricked and he is gazing at something the viewer cannot see, his eye bright and
his demeanour one of calm alertness, as though he is remembering all those
proud moments on the battlefield. Perhaps a little artistic licence has been
employed, to sweeten the image of a grumpy old war horse, but no doubt
Copenhagen’s adoring public were glad to see him in such a pleasing pose.
The second portrait of Copenhagen in retirement could not be
more different. Painted by Samuel Spode, some time during the 1820s or 30s (up
until 1836 when Copenhagen died), the picture shows the stallion harnessed in
full military regalia, standing before a stone wall and a column, with just a
glimpse of a door. He is a rich, dark chestnut with a ‘star and stripe’ on his
face and a white sock on his near (left) hind leg. This is interesting, as he
has no visible white on his legs in the James Ward portrait or the Thomas
Lawrence painting. His coat gleams as would that of a fit, stabled horse, not
one spending most of his time at grass in retirement. There is no evidence here
of reported ‘poor shoulders and hollow back’. His Arab heritage is clear to see
in the slightly dished face, compact muscular body and fine legs.
In the final painting I am considering in this article,
Copenhagen and the Duke are in action at the Battle of Waterloo. By Robert
Hillingford, the Commander-in-Chief and his war horse are shown in the midst of
battle, Wellington controlling the stallion effortlessly one-handed while all
around them mayhem ensues. The picture portrays the unflappable nature of both
man and horse, while at the same time giving the viewer a clear image of the battle’s
confusion and atrocity. In this painting, too, you can almost hear the noise
and smell the smoke of the guns and the stench of death. Copenhagen is depicted
with the same ‘star and stripe’, but would appear to have four white socks.
We will never know, now, his precise colouring or markings,
but if we take all four paintings at face value, he was a handsome animal with
both quality and presence, and clearly a horse worthy of being the Duke of
Wellington’s celebrated battle charger.
Pictures courtesy of
Wikimedia Commons
~*~
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