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The Peninsular War, which raged in Portugal, Spain, and eventually southern France from 1808 to 1814, could be seen as a sideshow given the small size of the British army involved and the remote location of much of the action compared with the big battles of the Napoleonic Wars. But it graced almost every historic British regiment with its battle honours, and, more importantly, made the reputation of one of Britain’s greatest ever commanders: Arthur Wellesley, later the Duke of Wellington.
If you want the definitive history, Jac Weller’s dedication to Sir Charles Oman ‘In humble acknowledgement of debt’ is a clear pointer, but Oman’s A History of the Peninsular War spans some 4,500 pages over seven volumes published between 1902 and 1930. Weller’s achievement is the publication of a classic single-volume history of the same conflict, which, together with companion volumes Wellington at Waterloo and Wellington in India, forms part of a highly regarded trilogy on the Iron Duke. The difference between Oman and Weller is best illustrated through their accounts of the French capture of Badajoz in 1811. In essence, the Spanish garrison was doing well until their energetic and able commander was killed during a sortie. His successor surrendered very promptly. Oman devotes six pages to the failures of this commander; Weller summarises the whole episode in just eight lines.
Look up Jac Weller and you will find a photograph of a big, burly-looking man in American football gear. This is not a mistake – Weller’s Wikipedia entry describes him as an ‘American football player, firearms expert, and military historian’. He is still remembered in the United States for his three years playing for Princeton University’s Princeton Tigers Team.
Valuable insights
First published in 1962, Weller’s pacey and accessible narrative did a lot to rekindle interest in the Peninsular War. This interest gathered momentum in the 1970s with the publication of two fine uniform guides, one by Philip Haythornthwaite and another by Martin Windrow and Gerry Embleton, fuelling the burgeoning interest among military modellers and wargamers. Then, in the 1980s, Bernard Cornwell’s Sharpe novels, more than half of them set in the Peninsula, became bestsellers, bringing awareness of this conflict to the general public. The books were serialised for television from 1993 to 2008. If we need any reminding of Weller’s significance, we only have to turn to Bernard Cornwell himself, who generously acknowledged his debt to Weller’s interpretation when it came to resolving conflict between historical sources.
Weller’s reputation rests on the quality of his narrative and the sound common sense of his interpretation, the latter based on a thorough first-hand knowledge of the weaponry used and the ground over which battle took place. Weller had worked with firearms for NATO, and he had personally tested and fired Napoleonic-era weapons, so he could speak with authority on their capabilities and limitations.
With his wife Cornelia, Weller toured the battlefields of Spain and Portugal in the 1950s, at a time when few foreigners explored these rural areas. His photographs are dated now, as more has changed in the 60 years since the book was published than in the previous 150 years. But this gives them historical value in their own right. As his notes explain, the Wellers were frequently able to trace original country tracks and farm buildings, and even detect battle damage. The insights thus gained are often valuable. For example, the battlefield of Albuera, often described as having hills and ridges, is in reality almost completely flat.
Narrative themes
Talavera, Badajoz, Salamanca, Vitoria – the names heading the chapters have a tremendous resonance in British regimental history, with so many standards carrying these battle honours. Certain themes develop through the narrative, one of which is the superiority of the British line over the French column. Following Oman, Weller counts the muskets deployed by the formations to show how the British and their Portuguese allies could consistently bring superior firepower to bear. Other themes are less flattering: for example, the failure of British cavalry officers to prevent headlong, uncontrolled charges that ended in disaster – with the King’s German Legion cavalry an honourable exception. This was still an issue with the cavalry’s armoured descendants in North Africa in the 1940s.
Another issue, frequently the subject of Wellesley’s rage, was the indiscipline of British soldiers in both retreat and pursuit. Unlike the more professional French, they all too often fell on whatever alcohol they could find and drank themselves into oblivion. This could result, as Wellesley observed, in the British losing (temporarily) more men in a victory than the enemy did in defeat. Nevertheless, it is typical of Weller’s sound judgement that he corrects Oman in saying that Wellesley described his soldiers as ‘the scum of the earth’. This is quoted innumerable times in modern accounts, but Weller points out that Wellesley qualifies this later on with the words ‘some of our soldiers’.
Weller’s account is unapologetically Wellesley- centred. ‘I never thought of writing about two sides at once,’ he said, ‘I just wanted them to know what the Duke knew at some particular time.’ Wellesley’s Portuguese troops, trained by and brigaded with British units, get full credit. But their Spanish counterparts are frequently given short shrift. It is true that the Spanish army was in a parlous state: brave individually, but abysmally officered and with wavering political leadership. One thing that does get full justice is the enormous impact of guerrilla warfare on the French ability to deploy their massive forces.
The central dilemma of the French is well described: these constant guerrilla attacks required the Napoleonic troops to deploy garrisons everywhere, and provide big escorts for supply columns and even single dispatch-riders. But they needed to concentrate sizeable armies to take on the British and Portuguese. This, plus Wellesley’s skilful deployment of small diversionary columns supported by the navy, gave the French an impossible conundrum: either concentrate and lose control of the countryside or disperse and lose the battles.
Commanding presence
Weller has been criticised for being blindly pro-Wellesley. There is some justice in this. In his conclusion, he contests claims that Wellesley was unable to develop capable independent field commanders, unlike Napoleon with his marshals. But his actual narrative constantly points out how necessary Wellesley’s presence on a battlefield was, and how timid or rash many of his subordinates could be when left with independent command. However, Weller’s summary of Wellesley’s skills is very convincing: his adroit use of military intelligence, his tact and diplomacy with allies, his institution of autonomous divisions, his care for logistics and the welfare of his men, and his genius for timing in manoeuvring troops on the battlefield.
Of the other two books in the trilogy, Wellington at Waterloo has aged less well (so much has been published and so many myths dispelled) though it is still a good read. Wellington in India is another valuable volume, benefiting again from the Wellers’ personal pilgrimage to the many sites described.
The Peninsular Campaign saw a uniquely British way of war – a relatively small professional army, coupled with a strong navy and generous subsidies to allies, to create the fabled ‘Spanish ulcer’ that tied up huge numbers of French troops and whittled away Napoleon’s capacity to fight off his other Continental enemies. Weller’s lasting achievement was to weave a compelling narrative that brought this story to a whole new audience.
Jac Weller
Born: 6 January 1913 – Died: 18 August 1994
Nationality: American
John A C (‘Jac’) Weller was born in Atlanta, Georgia. He enrolled at Princeton University and became a celebrated American football player, with his university team suffering only one defeat in his three years with them. He later set up a real-estate and insurance business with his wife Cornelia, but he also followed his true passion: the study of firearms and military history. He wrote nine books, including three on the Duke of Wellington, and became an honorary curator of the collections held by the US Military Academy and the British Army School of Infantry. Cornelia, who had been Weller’s constant companion for 55 years, died in 1992, and Weller took his own life two years later.
