Book Reviews:

Oman's Magnus Opus:

A History of the Peninsula War

Reviewed by Ian Fletcher


Republished by Greenhill Press

The great campaigns fought by the British Army have often produced equally fine historians and histories - Amery of the Boer War and Kinglake of the Crimea instantly spring to mind. The Peninsular War was blessed with Sir William Napier, the author of 'A History of the War in the Peninsula'. As well as having the advantage of being a participant, Napier was endowed with the ability to make the war come alive by way of outstanding prose. Indeed, the great firefight at Albuera and Ramsay's escapade at Fuentes de Onoro, for example, simply come alive in the wake of his vivid and most animated prose. Napier's work is not only a fine military history but is one of the great works of English literature. However, students of the Peninsular War will readily acknowledge that the greatest study, still standing head and shoulders above all others, is Sir Charles Oman's monumental seven-volume work, 'A History of the Peninsular War', published between 1902-1930.

Oman was born in India in 1860. He freely admitted to being influenced in his decision to write a history of the war by the depositing in All Souls' College, Oxford, of the papers of Sir Charles Vaughan. Vaughan was a diplomat who had been in Spain throughout the Peninsular War. He had been fortunate enough, during its early years, to have spoken with some of its leading figures. These had included General LefebvreDesnouetes whilst he had been a prisoner in England following his capture at Benavente in 1808. In addition, a great deal of information was provided by Spanish officers, such as Cuesta, Palafox and Castanos.

When Oman began his great work there had really been before him only Napier's history of the war, published in the 1 830s. There were other attempts of course, by Southey, Jones and Londonderry, to name just a few, whilst good histories, such as those by Arteche y Moro and Toreno, existed in Spanish. But in the wake of some recently published autobiographies, such as Blakeney, Tomkinson and Harry Smith, Oman felt that the time was right for a new history and thus took up the challenge. He must have harboured slight misgivings as to the sense of rewriting Napier and alludes to this in his first introduction. Napier was the master of stirring narrative but, as Oman pointed out, when he ventured into politics he was 'a less trustworthy guide.'

One feels that Oman was just airing those slight doubts which all historians have to face when setting off in the footsteps of long, established historians and their works. Nonetheless, each generation must, at some stage, produce its own champion worthy of picking up the gauntlet thrown down by earlier historians. And so Oman picked it up.

The Making Of...

Sir Charles Oman was not a poor man and was not without influence, two factors that greatly facilitated his work. The war years of 1914-18 curtailed his writing activities whilst his position in the House of Commons as burgess for the University of Oxford placed upon him an equal strain. However, it is difficult to imagine too many historians being able to find the time and finance to be able to embark upon the same level of deep research over a period of twenty-eight years in today's world, when most of us have such financial commitments as would not bear such a strain as would be placed upon them.

As Oman's work progressed he was further assisted by the aid of a good many descendants of Wellington's men who loaned him their family papers. In such a way Oman was able to quote directly from men like as Craufurd, D'Urban, Scovell, Mayne, Trant, Wilson and Le Marchant, as well as several other officers, all of whose papers were unpublished at the time. Moreover, Oman had the benefit of the unedited versions that contained much additional information.

Compare, for example, D'Urban's dramatic account of his ride from Aldea Tejada, immediately prior to the battle of Salamanca, quoted by Oman, to the version which appeared in the printed edition in D'Urban's Peninsular Journal, published in 1930, which is almost worthless. Other memoirs were published during the course of Oman's work which also proved of great assistance. He also received the most invaluable assistance from the great historian of the British Army, Sir John Fortescue, who was engaged in writing his own magnum opus at the same time. Indeed, it was most fortuitous that both of these great historians were embarked upon major projects relating to each other at the same time. Five of Fortescue's thirteen volumes relate to the Peninsular War and provide the most extensive coverage of any of the campaigns covered by him. One only has to read the footnotes of both Oman and Fortescue's works to appreciate the level of assistance each afforded the other.

That is not to say that they always agreed with each other. As Fortescue freely admitted when dealing with the action at Sabugal, for example, 'my own account differs not a little from Professor Oman's'. Perhaps this example is slightly unfair as hardly any two sources, eye-witnesses included, agree on what happened there on April 3rd 1811. Nonetheless, neither of the two historians was afraid to lend the other the results of their painstaking research, particularly the often confusing strengths, morning states and casualty figures of the various armies.

Oman was given free access to all of the major archives relating to the Peninsular War, in London, Paris, Madrid and Lisbon. In addition, motor transport and expert assistants were placed at his disposal by the Portuguese government. These army officers proved invaluable guides for Oman as he wound his way round the Peninsula in the days before any battlefield guides had appeared. Chambers' 'Wellington's Battlefields Illustrated: Busaco' appeared in 1910, one of, if not the first visual guide to a Peninsular battlefield, whilst several articles, such as Verner's 'Badajoz Revisited', in the Rifle Brigade Chronicle of 1912, were published also. Beatson's 'Wellington in the Pyrenees' had also appeared, but I cannot imagine him carrying a copy of Wyld's Atlas round with him. Today, it is fairly simple for anyone wishing to explore the battlefields. Weller's Wellington in the Peninsula', Paget's 'Wellington's Peninsular War' and even my own 'Fields of Fire' are available which, whilst never intending to be guide books, nonetheless cover the battlefields as they appear today.

Oman's Battlefield Surveys

The value of Oman's battlefield surveys cannot be over-emphasised. They gave him a complete grasp of each action, of the problems facing the respective commanders, of the angle of vision and of the nature of the fighting. It is certainly an aspect of study of which I myself am a strong advocate. It is very difficult to imagine some of the Peninsular battlefields and it is nigh on impossible to visualise those of the Pyrenees and of the Nive and Nivelle, for example.

Too many writers make assumptions and judgements without having visited the battlefields to experience the problems at first hand. How, for example, can anybody judge Beresford's handling of Albuera without seeing the field itself, for as sure as day is night one will look high and low in vain for Napier's 'fatal hill'. It does not exist. Oman was also fortunate in that he was able to see the battlefields in a relatively unspoilt condition. In 1810, Busaco was completely devoid of the sort of forestation which today makes it one of the most disappointing battlefields in the Peninsula. One simply cannot see a thing from Craufurd's position owing to the wood in front. The formidable defences of Badajoz, still intact when Oman visited the town, have been smoothed over to make way for gardens. Only the high walls remain.

During the course of his work Oman had to address some rather melancholy tasks, mainly to do with the 'passing over' of some of his helpers. In the introduction to his final volume he lists no fewer than seven who had died since 1902, but given the time span it is not surprising. Perhaps the most poignant piece comes in the introduction to the sixth volume, published in 1922, the first since the end of the Great War. In it, Oman writes that he had planned to retrace Soult's route from Roncesvalles to Pamplona in company with his good friend, Foster Cunliffe, All Souls Reader in Military History. Sadly, Cunliffe fell on the Somme in 1916 and Oman said that he had no desire to think of making the journey without him. As he went through the proofs of volume five, news reached him of the outbreak of the First World War. 'May her [Britain's] strength be used', he wrote, 'as effectively against military despotism in the twentieth century as it was in the nineteenth.'

The First World War forced a break of seven years between volumes five and six. This caused Oman to adjust back to places like Vera and Sorauren after four years of writing place names like Vimy and the Somme. One senses that, although the last two volumes are as detailed as the previous five, Oman rushed them somewhat. Indeed, a quarter of the way through volume five we find him still dealing with the winter of 1811-12.

This leaves just two and three-quarter volumes in which to deal with the momentous year of 1812 and the triumphant years of 1813 and 1814. Given the complicated nature of the fighting in the Pyrenees and the south of France this may appear surprising. Perhaps the work was beginning to sap his energy, after all he was 42 when the first volume was published and was 70 when the final volume appeared. The situation is not unlike Fortescue's. He also, after one has read the introductions to the latter volumes of his 'History of the British Army', was most certainly becoming disillusioned, not so much with the subject but with the rewards. It is interesting to read his complaints regarding the increase in wages for printers and ink-makers compared with that of historians, who were apparently very low paid.

Oman's 'History of the Peninsular War' embraces all aspects of the war, political and military, all spheres of operations, and all armies. One has to ask whether anybody will ever equal, let alone surpass his sevenvolume masterpiece. However, the tantalising thought arises; it is now over sixty years since his work first appeared, the same gap as that which first prompted him to embark upon his quest to rewrite Napier.

There have certainly been more memoirs and journals to add fuel to the fire, memoirs that I suspect Oman would dearly loved to have had at his disposal. Good collections of unpublished letters and diaries have emerged from the dark recesses of family vaults. The memoirs of a good many officers and men have appeared in various journals. Those of Bragge, Shipp, Rous, Grant, Wheeler, Long, Cocks, Mills and Brotherton, to name just a selection, have appeared in full. Perhaps it is time once again for a major re-appraisal of the war. Whether anybody would take twenty-eight years to write it is pretty doubtful, but there is certainly a wealth of new material to draw upon and add to Oman, Napier and Fortescue's fine work.

In the meantime, readers can enjoy Oman's magnum opus courtesy of Greenhill Books who are publishing all seven volumes between now and the spring of 1997. They are, most definitely, an essential purchase.

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