1812: A Nation Emerges
Sidney Hart and Rachael L. Penman. Washington: Smithsonian Institution Scholarly Press, 2012. 296 pp. Illus. Notes. Bibliog. Index. $50.
Reviewed by Gale Munro
As part of its remembrance of the 200th anniversary of the War of 1812, the Smithsonian’s National Portrait Gallery produced a definitive exhibition of portraits, art, and artifacts titled 1812: A Nation Emerges, and this book is its catalog—albeit an extremely lavish, hardbound, collectible one. Reaching beyond their own museum’s impressive collection, authors-curators Sidney Hart and Rachael L. Penman searched federal, international, and lesser-known sources to create an assemblage on the subject that would be impossible to equal. Their underlying thesis is that while the war may have been unnecessary in origin and doubtful in tangible impact, it gave our new nation a unifying identity.
Three introductory essays by well-known experts on the war provide context for the catalog, each reinforcing the theme. The first, “James Madison’s America,” by J. C. A. Stagg, traces the development of the United States as James Madison would have seen it, from his youth to his retirement from public life. The second piece, by Donald R. Hickey, is an overview of the military conflict. The third, “Art and War: Truth and Myth,” by lead exhibition curator Sidney Hart, describes how, in this period of the new nation’s cultural development, the war shaped U.S. artists even as they themselves were shaping the national myth that developed around the war.
These brief articles do not provide sufficient opportunity for detailed presentations of their subjects, and aficionados of U.S. naval history may find some of the conclusions, particularly about the value of the frigate victories, challenging. But because this is an exhibition catalog, the art and artifacts are the stars of the show.
The 102 cataloged items, half of which are portraits, are divided into nine topical sections, each with a brief introduction written by the curators. Each object or artwork is presented separately, with a full-page image and another page of explanation. This text mostly provides the historic background for the person or object, while the overall context in art history is provided in Hart’s essay.
From the first image, a pastoral depiction of Washington City just before the federal government’s arrival, each section is studded with gems of period imagery. The portraits show the notable characters of the war, presidents, a king, an emperor, political and military leaders of both sides, Native American leaders, and slaves. Even the ladies are kindly remembered in “The Republican Court” section, which is filled with portraits of the women who led the social life of the Madison administration.
The “Naval Battles” section is particularly fortunate, in that the portraits of Isaac Hull, Stephen Decatur, James Lawrence, Oliver Hazard Perry, and Thomas Macdonough are accompanied by images of their celebrated actions. The Navy Curator of Ship Models (headquartered at Carderock, Maryland) has also provided an excellent model of the Constitution. “The Burning of Washington and the Defense of Baltimore” offers readers an unusual opportunity to see in one volume and in excellent reproductions treasures such as the unknown British officer’s drawing of the Battle of Bladensburg, John James Halls’ portrait of Rear Admiral George Cockburn, the print of “The Taking of the City of Washington in America,” and Francis Scott Key’s original poem “The Star Spangled Banner.”
The parade of notable images continues through the Battle of New Orleans and the Treaty of Ghent (the signed treaty was actually included in the exhibition), into the war’s aftermath, when images of nascent industry reappear along with scenes of national joy and success. The catalog/book closes with a chronology and a map of the eastern United States showing locations that have been referenced.
The author-curators are to be commended for bringing this book and the exhibition together. While other works have been written and local celebrations have been or will be held in honor of the War of 1812, this may well be the only opportunity to see so many of these powerful national icons together.
Warships for the King: Ann Wyatt (1658–1757), Her Life and Her Ships
Tobias Philbin (text and illustrations), Richard Endsor (plans). Florence OR: SeaWatch Books, 2012. 188 pp. Illus. Notes. Bibliog. Index. $75.
Reviewed by David Antscherl
In the last decade of the 17th century, 7 major warships, part of the 27-ship program of England’s King William III, were built in the shipyards at Bursledon. William Wyatt and his wife, Ann, ran these yards; she took over after his death in 1693. The author of Warships for the King, Tobias Philbin, has researched the story of the first and only woman known to have managed a major shipbuilding enterprise. In a time when mortality rates were high, Ann Wyatt’s constitution enabled her to survive childbirth and exposure to smallpox and to live to the age of 99. She was, apparently, an altogether remarkable woman.
The book is divided into two parts, the first of which documents Ann’s life and times. Many charming photographs that the author took of places where the family lived in Bursledon and, later, Hawstead, illustrate this section. The second part details the vessels, and a set of plans at 1:96 scale by Richard Endsor is included in a pocket at the back of the book. These are of the Cumberland, 80 guns, one of the largest ships built and launched under Ann’s aegis a mere two years after her first husband’s demise. Another bonus is the appendix, which contains a transcription of the actual 1694 contract specifications for the Cumberland.
Historical developments are well presented, as are communications between the Admiralty Board and private shipbuilders such as the Wyatts. The transference of the business to Ann after William’s death is thoroughly covered, in addition to interesting family anecdotes. It is remarkable that this single private enterprise bid for and produced more than one-quarter of the ships required for this major building program.
Throughout, the work is lavishly illustrated, mainly with color photographs whose reproduction quality is generally excellent. However, in several instances an illustration could have appeared in a larger size to show more detail. And in at least one case (page 103), it should have been smaller, as the poor quality full-page image is pixelated and extremely indistinct.
Overall, though, the book is nicely designed and well laid out. The author discovered considerable information on Ann Wyatt and her family and has conveyed it in a lively, readable style. One narrative drawback is that the material on Ann’s life and times is often qualified with speculation flagged by words such as “probably.” The reader appreciates the author clearly noting these conjectures, which are based on historical and social facts, but at times a bit too much fancy is projected into the story.
The second part of the book, in turning to the design, construction, and launching of the seven capital ships produced by the Bursledon shipyards, benefits from the British government bureaucracy’s record-keeping and the author’s extensive research. Here Philbin is on much firmer ground. The author must have spent many arduous hours poring over and deciphering manuscripts, letters, and logs in the Admiralty archives at the Public Records Office. His thoroughness is to be commended. Photographs of contemporary models, paintings, and drawings (some from the period, others modern) amplify and enrich the text.
The three-sheet plan set seems somewhat Spartan compared with the beautiful dust-jacket color illustration. The drawings are technically good and detailed enough to produce a reasonably accurate representation of how the Cumberland appeared. However, a model-maker might find the quality of reproduction problematic in that the ink lines are sometimes quite thick. The lines are “spread” and, at 1:96 scale, represent at least 1 inch in scale width. Therefore, items delineated could be measured as much as 2 inches more or less than intended. As a practical example, the lower gun port openings could be measured on the scale drawing as 3 feet 6 inches, 3 feet 7 inches, or even 3 feet 8 inches wide. One would need to refer to the contract to discover that they are, in fact, 3 feet 6 inches in width.
The extensive and often detailed notes support the text and usefully define specialist archaic terms with which the reader may not be familiar. They are both helpful and very reader-friendly. In sum, the book will be of interest to social as well as naval historians and will engage modelers interested in this period of emergence and establishment of the Royal Navy. With the caveats noted, it is highly recommended.
Forgotten Sacrifice: The Arctic Convoys of World War II
Michael G. Walling. Oxford, UK: Osprey Publishing, 2012. 320 pp. Illus. Maps. Bibliog. Index. $25.95.
Reviewed by Jeffrey G. Barlow
During the period of World War II from August 1941 through May 1945, Allied merchant convoys carrying wartime supplies from Great Britain to northern Russia were forced to sail through icy regions patrolled by German surface warships, U-boats, and attack aircraft. In all, of the almost 1,500 merchant ships in these Arctic convoys during this pivotal period, 100 were sunk; 829 officers and men in their crews lost their lives. In Forgotten Sacrifice, Michael Walling provides the stories of a number of the sailors who served in these wartime convoys. He was able to interview a handful of Russian veterans, but his primary sources of information about the events discussed are published secondary accounts.
In the initial chapter, “Briefing,” Walling lays out the contextual material that he feels is needed for a larger understanding of the story. This includes short sections on the history and organization of convoys, their routes and bases, German threats to them, their defense, intelligence issues, and a geopolitical overview of events during the war’s first two years—before Germany invaded the Soviet Union.
Most of Forgotten Sacrifice consists of the author’s recounting of the deadly convoy battles from March through December 1942 in the Norwegian Sea, midway between Norway and Greenland; and in the Barents Sea. Relying on anecdotes from the written accounts of crewmen who served on board the merchantmen and their naval escorts, Walling provides readers with unforgettable snapshots of the horrendous experiences they faced during combat in these frigid waters. As one example, he describes the fate of Convoy PQ 18 in the second week of September 1942.
Headed for the port of Archangel in north Russia, the 44 merchantmen of PQ 18, escorted by a strong group of destroyers, corvettes, and trawlers together with the escort carrier HMS Avenger, were set upon by a well-prepared German force. On the morning of 13 September, U-boats sank a freighter and a tanker on the convoy’s outside starboard column. Later that day the German air force launched a mass attack on the convoy. Luftwaffe JU-88s and He-111 torpedo bombers, coming in low in formation, sank an additional eight ships in less than 15 minutes. The combined attacks annihilated the two outer columns of PQ 18.
The following day strikes came in again, and the Mary Luckenbach, which had survived in the starboard-wing column the day before, was torpedoed by an He-111, setting off a tremendous explosion. As an officer in the antiaircraft cruiser HMS Scylla recalled, “The great smoke column was . . . thousands of feet high and mushrooming out where it met the clouds. At its base flames still flickered, and the following ship was altering course to avoid them. The Mary Luckenbach had gone, and forty men had died.” On the evening of 19 September, Convoy 18 finally reached the Russian coast, having suffered the loss of 14 ships—almost a third of the number that had sailed from Scotland 17 days earlier.
As a former officer in the U.S. Coast Guard, the author has a good feel for the maritime aspects of his subject, but his knowledge of some of the naval and military history he discusses comes up a bit short. For example, in the section on intelligence, Walling asserts that Germany’s naval cryptographic organization B-Dienst (for which he mistakenly provides the acronym BdU, the shortened reference to U-Boat Command) “was successful in reading the Royal Navy’s secure communications for most of the war.” In point of fact, the cipher that the Germans actually were able to read for most of 1942 and the first half of 1943 was the Allied Combined Naval Cypher No. 3, which the British Admiralty used in sending messages to convoy commanders about rerouting ships away from U-boat wolf packs. It was finally replaced by Naval Cypher No. 5 in June 1943, which after several modifications was rendered unbreakable. The Germans, therefore, were unable to read any Allied enciphered naval communications from November 1943 until the end of the war.
Nevertheless, Walling’s book will be of interest to the general reader who enjoys narrative accounts of the war at sea during World War II. On the other hand, professional historians seeking a more comprehensive account of the battles over the Arctic convoys would do better to read the British Admiralty’s The Royal Navy and the Arctic Convoys: A Naval Staff History (Routledge, 2007), which includes a preface by British historian and retired Royal Navy officer Malcolm Llewellyn-Jones.
Black Salt: Seafarers of African Descent on British Ships
Ray Costello. Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 2012. 248 pp. Illus. Notes. Bibliog. Index. $99.95.
Reviewed by Captain Steven E. Maffeo, U.S. Navy Reserve (Retired)
Riffling through almost four centuries, the author of Black Salt considers the history of British seafarers of African and Afro-Caribbean descent, attempting to shine “new light on an overlooked group of servicemen.” Ray Costello, an academic writing here for a general audience, discusses their lives at sea and ashore, in the Royal Navy as well as the merchant marine. The book clearly stems from the author’s lifelong passion for—and expertise in—the history of the African diaspora and the black experience in Britain, in particular the city of Liverpool. It’s based on considerable research and is packed with numerous stories, anecdotes, and firsthand testimonies.
The book opens with a review of the slave trade, and particularly enlightening is the author’s examination of black crewmen on slave ships. Moving through the 18th and 19th centuries, Costello notes that Royal Navy enlistment afforded to black seamen a protection they did not find elsewhere in the Anglo-American world. He analyzes the increase of a black presence ashore in the major British ports, then moves to a discussion of the status and social class of seafarers of all ethnicities.
Costello’s consideration of the transition from sail to steam, and the concomitant effect on the black seafarer, is of interest. Essentially he asserts that this drove most of the men belowdecks into menial stoker and steward billets. The author believes that toward the end of the 19th and into the 20th century, the evidence reveals a significant increase in negative attitudes toward non-white seafarers. Much of this, he says, was not specific to seafaring society either afloat or ashore, but more of a wider “sea-change in the British psyche and that of other Europeans concerning the assumption of the natural inferiority of black people.” Costello notes that stances such as this remained strong through World War II, when “black seafarers were blatantly excluded from the Royal Navy.”
Happily, though, the author notes that progress was made “after Empire,” in the form of not only a rebroadening of opportunities at sea, but also as a more general trend across society. Costello concludes by expressing the hope that he has addressed a historical omission and demonstrated that “black seamen on British ships served as by no means a peripheral force within the British Royal and mercantile navies.”
Black Salt covers a very wide range of topics. Costello provides even a surplus of minutiae. All professional writers and serious researchers should guard against the temptation to include everything they know on a given subject. In this case, judicious pruning to streamline the work, to keep the story on course by eliminating considerable amounts of trivia and anecdotes, would have helped. Only in some chapters does the narrative carry through with detail that supports what is being related, versus the detail standing as the narrative.
Moreover, although Costello writes clearly with an admirable command of the language, the book seems like a doctoral dissertation in its structure and presentation (even though his was on another African-diaspora topic). He begins with a very academic construct, and throughout the text he continually quotes other scholars by name. This is extremely disruptive to the narrative flow in a general-audience book. There’s considerable repetition of points throughout the chapters, along with a great deal of jumping back and forth in time. This is confusing.
The author should have effected a transformation from scholarly writing to more conventional narrative history, which would have made Black Salt more accessible. Even though Costello’s area of expertise encompasses the black community in Liverpool, his close focus on that city gives the book a bit of an unbalanced coverage. Finally, in its exorbitant price the author is disserved by his publisher.
Nevertheless, this work is of value, particularly to those interested in comprehensively collecting in the areas of black studies and maritime studies.