Book Review: The Royal Navy in the Napoleonic Age, Mark Jessop

I think this is a really rather excellent if somewhat odd or unusual book. What's excellent is the density of information, and the vivid evocation of the era. It's how he achieves the latter that makes it odd and unusual. 

Modern writing on such subjects tends to be either factual or fictional (at least in declared intent). A deliberate mixing of the two, as here, is a rare thing these days. At least in my reading experience. As such, it takes a bit of getting used to. What author Mark Jessop does is intersperse - usually at the start or finish of a chapter - fictionalised scenarios with the more traditional historical meat of the book.

Initially wary of such an approach, I both think and feel - and that's an important point, this rather unusual approach definitely appeals to the feelings as much as the intellect (quite a refreshing thing!) - that it's sufficiently well done to have won me over. It's definitely 'mannered', so to speak. But it's also highly effective at bringing the subject vividly to life.

Having read this I feel inclined to seek out other writings by the author. Naval doings are not my primary area of interest for this period. But well written books such as this are definitely helping me develop a nascent taste for the briny sagas of this colourful 'age of sail', when sea power was key to England punching well above her apparent weight. 

Since initially posting this review I've learned that this is actually part two of, or a follow up to, another similar book by Jessop, entitled The Royal Navy 1793–1800, Birth of a Superpower, also by Pen & Sword, and written in the same style. My only real criticism of this second part is the lack of a glossary, which for a landlubber like me would've been helpful.

A fascinating subject, well served by an erudite and imaginative author. Great stuff!

Book Review: Warships of the Napoleonic Era - Robert Gardiner

A sumptuous coffee-table feast of images and info from the high tide of the age of sail.

This large format hardback is, like the ships it celebrates and describes, a thing of great beauty.

The book is subtitled Design, Development and Deployment, and one of the chief features it boasts, bearing a clear and direct relation to this rather analytical sounding terminology, is an extensive use of Admiralty 'Draughts'.

These crisp, clean drawings, beautifully done, and very nicely reproduced here, form an extensive and comprehensive record of predominantly British naval vessels. Thanks to British dominance at sea, however, and the numerous captured boats the Navy acquired as a result of this situation, this record actually extends to cover many vessels of foreign origin.   

The shipworks of John Perry, Blackwall Yard, 1784. [1]

As a Francophile, in terms of my modelling, figure-collecting and gaming, in this era at least, it was disappointing that there wasn't more on the French Navy. But, given Britain's hegemony at sea in this period, and the avowed centrality of the Admiralty draughts to this particular account of the era, that's not so surprising. And the French, Spanish, Dutch, Danish, Portuguese, Swedish, Russian and American Navies are all covered, albeit in much less comprehensive fashion.

In the British section, which accounts for fully two-thirds of the approximately 150 pages of the book, the vessels are treated in several sections, according to the British 'ratings' system, starting with the biggest 'first rate' ships, and working down to the smallest vessels, such as rowed gunboats. 

A set of four Nicholas Pocock maritime prints. [2]

Recurrent themes include how the various classes of fighting vessels evolved, and what uses the different navies made of their various boats. These themes are dealt with pretty comprehensively for the British navy, and more cursorily for the fleets of other nations. But taken as a whole the coverage is very informative, especially for a newcomer to this area of the Napoleonic Wars, such as myself.

From one perspective the Anglo-centrism is good, as it helps avoid undue repetition, and perhaps even makes the book a leaner and yet richer experience. This latter point was brought home to me when I saw another Seaforth title today (Seaforth are the maritime imprint of Pen & Sword, and the publishers of this edition), at Topping Books, of Ely, that dealt exclusively with French naval vessels of roughly the same period, but is more a compendium of info, and is much less richly illustrated.

The Atlanta, a 16-gun sloop, from the National Maritime Museum's extensive model collection, a (different) photograph of which can be seen in the book.

Numerous models are shown, and I absolutely love these. In fact I love them so much I'm considering purchasing several more titles, ranging from another by Gardiner (if memory serves it's a history of British frigates, told via models), to the even more plush (and correspondingly more pricey) 17th & 18th Century Model Ships from the Kriegstein Collection.

I've also been inspired to plan some trips, one - very soon, I hope - to the National Maritime Museum, at Greenwich, and another - when time and funds allow - to the Musée Marine in Paris. The former has what may be the worlds largest collection of fine naval models, mostly British, naturally (as they were commissioned for the Admiralty, in relation to their ship-building programme), whilst the latter has a fabulous collection of models of French craft, commissioned by Napoleon himself. 

Nelson's 1801 attack on Copenhagen. [4]

One major area of naval concern, for both Britain and France, related to French plans to invade our islands. This is covered, as are numerous other sub-topics, in small supplementary double-page spreads. Other areas addressed include such topics as Speed and Length, Quantity versus Quality, and  Experiments and Innovation, amongst others.

There's also a pair of double-page spreads that, combined, make a four-page spread of one of the Admiralty Draughts - the 74-gun Warrior - allowing a closer inspection. These Draughts are terrific, conveying both beauty and information. I can imagine scratch-builders loving these. I have to confess, landlubber that I am, I mainly admire them aesthetically, and find them hard to decipher, technically.

The Capture of the French Guillaume Tell by HMS Foudroyant, off Malta, 1804. [5]

One area where maritime books and other similar stuff on this period regularly falls down, e.g. the Rod Langton Dutch Gunboat model of my previous posts, is the lack of a glossary. Nautical and naval terminology is very specialist, and this book seems to assume prior knowledge on that score.

Still, despite the Anglo-centric bias, and the lack of a glossary, this is a terrifically beautiful and highly informative volume. I paid the full £45 RRP when I bought it at a Wargames show, but I don't regret it!

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NOTES:

[1] The largest privately owned ship-works in Europe at the time.

[2] The lower left of this set of four Pocock prints is one of many wonderful artworks reproduced in the book. The image is a rare example of British sea-power worsted, depicting the USS Constitution defeating HMS Java, in 1812.

[3] Described as 'naive but detailed', a cropped version of this image appears in a sub-section of this book that looks at the Invasion scares. The full image benefits from a textual key that augments the visual components.

[4] I found this pic when 'googling' Nelson's 1801 attack on Copenhagen. The image I was after was an oil by Nicholas Pocock. I'm not even 100% sure if this watercolour depicts the same action or not!?

[5] The full painting, by Thomas Luny, a cropped version of which adorns this books cover.

Book Review: Trafalgar, The Nelson Touch - David Howarth

Wow, what a story! 

The age of sail - when sail was the main or only method of traversing the high seas - grows ever more romantic as it recedes further into history. David Howarth, whose superb Waterloo, A Near Run Thing, is the kind of book to inspire a lifelong passion for Napoleonic history, proves just as adept at bringing the naval war of this now distant epoch to vivid and colourful life, in this excellent slim but compelling volume on Nelson's memorable victory at Trafalgar. This is perhaps not entirely surprisingly, as Howarth was himself a naval officer, helping run the famous 'Shetland Bus' during WWII.

The sad fates of the two opposing commanders, Britain's heroic and much admired Nelson, and France's tragic and much maligned Villeneuve, illustrate very well how real history sometimes combines both mythic grandeur and epic tragedy. Nelson is, perhaps, as close as we can come in Britain to having a man as charismatic and effective in leadership as Napoleon. Wellington was of course effective and popular, but he didn't have the same public charisma as either Napoleon or Nelson. But where Nelson excelled in this watery world, Napoleon, usually so prodigiously capable, appears at his least able when it comes to maritime matters. 

Vice Admiral Horatio Lord Nelson, by Lemuel Francis Abbott

Of course, Nelson's part in this story is exciting and compelling in itself, and has often been treated in various media. But Howarth skilfully weaves this most famous strand of this famous and many threaded story together with numerous others, including Villeneuve's, and those of many other senior figures of all three nations, British French and Spanish. He also describes the navies themselves, and the contexts they fought in, even imparting sketchy views of the lower ranks (about whom, at the time Howarth was writing - and perhaps still? - very little was known). 

The whole is superbly put together, flowing very smoothly, moving the happy reader along much like a favourable wind in one's sails! Howarth skilfully builds his narrative, with the gentle yet unstoppable inevitability of an ocean swell, towards the longest chapter, The Battle, which describes a messy and confusing naval action with impressive simplicity and clarity. This is so well done that once I reached this section I found it extremely hard to put the book down. Indeed, as near as was possible, I read straight through to the end. It was a moving and exhilarating read.

For victors and vanquished alike, far from a quick and peaceful cessation of travails, after the confusion and intensity of this most famous of naval battles - the metaphorical storm, if you like - came the literal storm. This week-long maritime hurricane was, according to those that survived it, even more challenging than the battle itself. Howarth describes this superbly too, ultimately following the story beyond this to the funeral of Nelson and the rather shady and politically convenient demise of Villeneuve, during his return from British captivity.

Admiral Villeneuve.

The latter left no issue to suffer any subsequent ignominy. Nelson, although married, is famed for his relationship with his beloved mistress, Emma Hamilton, by whom he had a daughter named Horatia. Their fate - only very vaguely alluded to in this brief narrative - balances the scales of tragedy somewhat, across the channel. 

The sacrifices of this savage naval battle are thrown into yet starker relief due to the fact that even before Nelson (and so many other mariners of numerous nationalities) made the ultimate sacrifice, Napoleon had turned away from the cross-channel invasion project based at Boulogne, learning of the naval disaster as he trounced his foes on the road that lead to Austerlitz.

Like Howarth's book on Waterloo this is a fabulous read, and one that could easily seed a lifelong passion for warfare in the age of sail. It's great that HMS Victory has been preserved. Having read this I must go and see her for myself! As a result of reading this wonderful book I also want to read further in this area: I have several appropriate titles lined up. Just got to find the time to read 'em!

Above, the complete painting, by Auguste Mayer, a portion of which appears on the books dust-jacket. [1]

The old World Books edition that I bought, a 1970 reprint of the 1969 Collins 1st edition, is richly illustrated, with plenty of images - including portraits of most of the senior commanders, various naval scenes, some of the battle, some more general (mostly in black and white, with a few double page spreads in full colour) - and even some simple but helpful maps of the unfolding action. 

The one glaring omission is a glossary of nautical/naval terminology. For us landlubbers who don't know our port from our starboard, this would've been a most useful and obvious thing to include. Despite this I'm giving this five Boney's Bicornes: there will doubtless be more thorough and detailed books on this subject. But I doubt there will be many that are more readable or exciting.

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NOTES:

David Howarth.

Author David Howarth was an interesting man. With a naval background - during WWII one of his areas of service was as assistant to the British officer organising the famous 'Shetland Bus', whereby Britain helped keep the Norwegian resistance movement supplied and trained, etc. - he was not only an author on nautical subjects, but also a boat-builder, and his writings would extend to areas of land warfare, including his book on Waterloo, which I've also reviewed on this blog. Howarth's final book, written in collaboration with his son, was a biography of 'Britain's most famous Admiral', Nelson, entitled Nelson: The Immortal Memory, published in 1988. On the strength of the two Howarth books I've read so far, I'm very much inclined to track that down and read that as well.

[1] The beautiful painting is flawed: it shows the French Bucentaure, which was indeed at Trafalgar, engaged by the British ship Sandwich, which wasn't! Nonetheless, it captures the visual drama of warfare at sea in the age o' sail admirally, so to speak.