Born, at Celbridge, Co. Kildare, 17 Dec. 1785. Educated at Celbridge Grammar School. Ensign in Royal Irish Artillery, June 1800; Lieutenant, April 1801; Captain in 43rd Regt., 1804. Took part in expedition against Copenhagen, 1807; in Sir John Moore’s campaign in Spain, winter of 1808–09. With his regiment in Portugal, spring of 1809 to autumn of 1811. Married Caroline Amelia Fox, Feb. 1812. In Peninsula with regiment, March 1812 to Jan. 1813; Major, May 1812. In England, Jan. to Aug. 1813. In Peninsula, Aug. 1813 to 1814. Brevet Lieut.-Colonel, Nov. 1813. Retired from active service, 1819. C.B., 1819. Settled in London; took great interest in fine arts, and contributed to various periodicals. Removed to Bromham, Cornwall, 1826; to Freshford, near Bath, 1831. Colonel, July 1830. Annual Grant for Distinguished Services, from May 1841. Major-General, Nov. 1841. Lieut.-Governor of Guernsey, Feb. 1842; removed thither, April 1842; resigned, 1847. K.C.B., 27 April 1848. Lieut.-General, Nov. 1851; General, Dec. 1859. Died, at Clapham Park, 10 Feb. 1860. Buried at Norwood. Works: “History of the War in the Peninsula” (6 vols.), 1828–40 (followed by five pamphlets in answer to objections to the History, viz., “A Reply to Lord Strangford’s ‘Observations,’” 1828; “A Reply to various Opponents,” 1833; “Colonel Napier’s Justification on his third volume,” 1833; “A Letter to Gen. Lord Viscount Beresford,” 1834; “Counter-Remarks to Mr. D. M. Perceval’s Remarks,” 1835); “Observations Illustrating Sir John Moore’s Campaign,” 1832; “Observations on the Corn Laws,” 1841; “The Conquest of Scinde” (2 vols.), 1845; “Notes on the State of Europe,” 1848; “Six Letters in vindication of the British Army,” 1849; “History of Sir Charles Napier’s Administration of Scinde,” 1851; “Comments upon a Memorandum of the Duke of Wellington,” 1854; “Life and Opinions of Gen. Sir C. J. Napier” (4 vols.), 1857; “Gen. Sir Charles Napier and the Directors of the East India Company,” 1857. He edited: Admiral Sir C. Napier’s “The Navy,” 1851; General Sir C. J. Napier’s “Defects, Civil and Military, of the Indian Government,” 1853, and “William the Conqueror,” 1858. Life: by Lord Aberdare, 1864.

Personal

  He had one son. Nine daughters were born to him, five of whom survive him. His life was happy in old age. His utterly fearless nature saved him from the suffering which most of us would undergo in provoking and sustaining hostile controversies. His wife, some unmarried daughters, many grandchildren, and all whom his benign domestic temper had attached to him, ministered to his ease, and to his intellect as well; so that his decline was gentle. Till a late stage of his life his accomplishments as an artist were a precious resource to him. Others besides his immediate friends will remember his statue—the Death of Alcibiades—in virtue of which he was made an honorary member of the Royal Academy. His paintings are no commonplace amateur daubs, but both explain and are explained by the splendid picture-gallery of his great historical work.

  He appears indeed to have excelled in all he attempted. Among his other acquirements, he was a first-rate billiard-player and very fond of the game; but he gave it up entirely from the fear that it might become too engrossing…. In appearance William Napier was one of the handsomest men of his time. Six feet high, formed in the most powerful mould it is possible to conceive as compatible with extraordinary grace and activity. He was able to jump six feet in height. The head of an Antinous covered with short clustering black curls—the square brow, both wide and high, the aquiline nose—the firm mouth and the square massive jaw, indicating indomitable firmness and resolution—the eye of that remarkable bluish grey, so terrible in anger, so melting in tenderness, so sparkling in fun. In his youth his head and face might have served for a portrait of the war god. In his latest years, with milk-white hair and beard, his appearance was that of a Jupiter.

  There was an openness and manliness about Sir William that at once won confidence. It was felt that he was a man of principle…. There was in his bearing an openness highly agreeable. His scorn of chicane was perceptible at a first acquaintance, and this was particularly observable when he entered into earnest conversation.

  Napier was noble and generous by nature, resembling his brother Charles in hatred of oppression and wrong, in a chivalrous defence of the weak, and a warm and active benevolence. He was an eloquent public speaker, but sometimes formed his judgments too hastily. He had a great love of art, and was no mean artist. His statuette of Alcibiades, in virtue of which he was made an honorary member of the Royal Academy, received the warm praise of Chantrey.

History of the War in the Peninsula, 1828–40

  I have finished Napier’s “War in the Peninsula.” It is written in the spirit of a Liberal, but the narrative is distinct and clear. He has, however, given a bad sample of accuracy in the case of Lord Strangford, where his pointed affirmation has been as pointedly repelled. It is evident he would require probing. His defence of Moore is spirited and well argued, though it is evident he defends the statesman as much as the general. As a Liberal and a military man, Napier finds it difficult to steer his course. The former character calls on him to plead for the insurgent Spaniards; the latter induces him to palliate the cruelties of the French. Good-even to him until next volume, which I shall long to see.

  I quite agree about Napier’s book. I did not think that any man could venture to write so true, bold, and honest a book; it gave me a high idea of his understanding, and makes me very anxious about his caractère.

  The “History of the Peninsular War” [by Southey] is already dead: indeed, the second volume was dead-born. The glory of producing an imperishable record of that great conflict seems to be reserved for Colonel Napier.

  As for Napier himself, his Spanish Campaigns are immortal.

  I have been exceedingly impressed with the evil precedent of Colonel Napier’s “History of the Peninsular War.” It is a specimen of the true French military school; not a thought for the justice of the war,—not a consideration of the damnable and damning iniquity of the French invasion. All is looked at as a mere game of exquisite skill, and the praise is regularly awarded to the most successful player. How perfectly ridiculous is the prostration of Napier’s mind, apparently a powerful one, before the name of Buonaparte! I declare I know no book more likely to undermine the national sense of right and wrong in matters of foreign interference than this work of Napier’s.

  He has … produced a work which for vivid beauty of narrative may vie, I have heard good judges say, with Cæsar or Tacitus.

  We observed, towards the close of our first article upon Colonel Napier’s history, that to point out all its inaccuracies and expose fully the unjust partialities and systematic misrepresentations by which it is almost everywhere disfigured would require a work more voluminous than itself. The necessity for such a work is, however, daily diminishing; and even before the Colonel has finished his undertaking he will, we apprehend, discover that the sandy foundations on which he has rested his claims to lasting reputation, either as a writer of good taste, or as an accurate and judicious historian, have already given way…. We hope ere long to resume our exposure of this author’s historical and professional blunders; and when we have concluded the examination of his book, we may probably give an article (which need not be a long one) to his (so-called) replies.

  Colonel Napier’s description of battles and the heart-stirring events of military warfare are superior to anything in the same style, not only in modern, but almost in ancient, history…. But the great defect of this brilliant work is the want of calmness in the judgment of political events, and undue crowding in the details of his work. He is far too minute in the account of inconsiderable transactions.

  Our English Thucydides, the historian of the Peninsular War.

  It is not because his “History of the Peninsular War” is the finest military history ever produced that his labors should be so spoken of, but because of the act of writing that narrative was a political service of incalculable importance. When he entered on his work Wellington was unwilling that the melancholy facts of the early part of the struggle should become known to the world, and if he, the conqueror, was unwilling, it may be imagined what was left by the obstructive officials who had done their utmost to crush the commander and his enterprise. Well as we understand it now, nobody knew at the close of the war that Wellington’s greatest difficulties lay within the Cabinet and the War Office at home. Whether we ever should have learned the truth without Napier’s help there is no saying; but we know that to him we owe the full and clear understanding that we have of the true scheme and character of the Peninsular War, of the ability, temper, and conduct of the Ministry of the time, and of the merits of our great general. That History has therefore modified our national policy, and our views, plans, spirit and conduct as a people. There are few on record which have effected such a work as this. It is this view of it which explains the wrath it excited.

  Is a work of the highest order.

  Writers of what may be called technical or professional history hardly come within the scope of a work on general literature. Yet the present century has been adorned by one author of that class of such pre-eminent merit that it can hardly be unseasonable to mention that the achievements in the Peninsular war of the greatest of British Generals have been described by an author who served under him, Colonel Napier of the 43rd Regiment, not only with the military knowledge and skill of an experienced soldier, but with a mastery of all the arts of composition, with a command over all the resources of the language, with an animation and vigour which few authors by profession have ever equalled; and that his narrative of the Conquest of Scinde by his own brother, an undertaking still more gratifying to his fraternal pride, rivals his greater and better known work in all the qualities which can confer renown on an author, and which deservedly procure for the writings in which they are displayed a longevity more durable, as the Roman poet affirms, than brass or marble.

  His “History” was not written for all time; and, with the exception of a few students of military affairs and a few lovers of good literature, the readers of our generation know it only by those isolated passages in which chronicle rises to the sublimity of epic poetry…. There are isolated passages in the book that will to the end sparkle among the most brilliant gems of literature,—passages that will always be read, and, whenever read, will make the hearts of the readers burn with them. But I do not believe that the book, as a whole, will continue to be read, at least by general readers. Forgotten it will never be: but its life will resemble the ghostly existence of the “Faery Queen,” not the god-like immortality of the “Pilgrim’s Progress.” The truth is that for general readers, the book is far too long. Not the most skilful story-teller that ever lived, not even Macaulay himself, if he were alive, could induce our generation, much less future generations, to wade through a detailed narrative of the innumerable combats, sieges, marches, and the counter-marches of the Peninsular War. At the same time, it is probable that, if Napier had written with greater brevity, he would have given less satisfaction to that large portion of his public,—the soldiers who had themselves acted in the scenes which he described. No fair critic would think of finding fault with the length of his descriptions of such important events as the siege of Badajoz or the battle of Albuera. My complaint is, though I make it with diffidence, that he showed little sense of proportion, that he did not know when to contract his narrative.

  Southey said of Napier, “His history will be the standard un-literary history of his campaigns—mine the philosophical, moral, and popular one, of the Peninsular War.” Southey was greatly deceived. His history is now comparatively unknown, while Napier’s is not only the standard military authority, but by far the best literary work on the subject.

  In the spring of 1840, Napier completed his “History” by the publication of the sixth volume. The French translation by Count Mathieu Dumas was completed shortly after, and translations appeared in Spanish, Italian, and German. The work steadily grew in popularity, and has become a classic of the English language, while the previous attempts of Captain Hamilton, of Southey, and of Lord Londonderry have been completely forgotten. It is commended to the general reader no less by its impartial admiration for the heroes on both sides than by the spontaneity of its style. Its accuracy was the more firmly established by the inevitable attacks of actors in the scenes described, who thought the parts they had played undervalued.

  The famous description of the Battle of Albuera is only one of many showing eloquence without any mere fine writing, and with the knowledge of the soldier covering the artist’s exaggeration.

  Perhaps the greatest specimen of military history in any language, and have left it not only without equal, but without second in our own. His personal experience, though a great advantage, was the least of his qualifications. He could when the dry light of his intellect was not damped by passion, reason closely, and expound with admirable lucidity. When the principles of war, or the military causes of success and failure were the matter in hand, he gave his reason fair play. In this respect, however, he has been equalled by other military writers. Where he stands, it may be confidently affirmed, alone, is in this, that he brought to the history of war the imagination of a great romantic writer, and a poet’s command of “simple, sensuous, and passionate images.” His style is perfectly adapted to his subject—simple, swift, direct at times, and when under the stimulus of some heroic action, or heroic suffering, rising to a sonorous vehemence full of telling images, often conveyed by the power of a single word put in its place. He goes intrepidly to the very border of the turgid, but never over it. His qualities as a writer fully atone for his patent errors as a judge.

  Is one of the rare masterpieces in modern military history.