The Boys' Nelson
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On the night of the 15th August Nelson renewed his attempt on the Boulogne flotilla. His plan of attack shows that he took elaborate precautions to preclude the possibility of failure. La Touche Tréville, in command at Boulogne, had also profited by his recent experience with the British, and had fitted out additional bomb-ketches and placed mortars on smacks for the purpose of defence. Nelson arranged that four divisions of ships’ boats should be employed, each accompanied by one or two flat boats armed with either an 8-inch howitzer or a 24-pound carronade. Two boats of each division were to be prepared for cutting the enemy’s cable and sternfast and to be provided with stout hook-ropes for the purpose of towing the prizes. “When any Boats have taken one Vessel, the business is not to be considered as finished; but a sufficient number being left to guard the Prize, the others are immediately to pursue the object, by proceeding on to the next, and so on, until the whole Flotilla be either taken, or totally annihilated; for there must not be the smallest cessation until their destruction is completely finished.”
Pikes, cutlasses, tomahawks, axes, and all the paraphernalia of war were to be placed on the boats. Fast-sailing cutters were to keep close in shore so as to be ready to tow out any vessels which might be captured. “The greatest silence is to be observed by all the people in the Boats, and the oars to be muffled.” The watchword was “Nelson,” the answer “Bronté.”
The attack was a failure. The brave fellows found the vessels not only full of soldiers but defended by sharp spikes of iron and netting placed round the hulls in a similar manner to the torpedo netting of modern naval warfare. It was said by the attacking party that the French boats were secured to the shore by stout cables, a belief entertained by Nelson, but La Touche Tréville indignantly denied the accusation in his official report. The British seamen went into a veritable halo of fire, the soldiers on the boats being assisted by comrades stationed on the heights. It was an unequal contest in every way, and when the second division of boats, under Captain Parker, closed with the enemy, it is stated that the French commander plainly said so. “You can do nothing here,” he shouted, “and it is only useless shedding the blood of brave men to make the attempt.”62 Parker’s thigh was shattered while attempting to board the French Commodore’s boat, another officer was shot through the leg, and the killed and wounded were numbered at 172. Officially the French casualties were returned at ten killed and thirty wounded, probably a low estimate. “No person can be blamed for sending them to the attack but myself;” the Commander-in-chief writes to Lord St Vincent, “I knew the difficulty of the undertaking, therefore I ventured to ask your opinion.” He attributed the failure to the divisions not having arrived “at the same happy moment with Captain Parker.” “More determined, persevering courage, I never witnessed.” “I long to pay them, for their tricks t’other day,” he writes to Lady Hamilton, “the debt of a drubbing, which, surely, I’ll pay: but when, where, or how, it is impossible, your own good sense must tell you, for me or mortal man to say.”
Nelson was deeply attached to Captain Parker, whom he calls “my child, for I found him in distress.” His correspondence at this time is replete with references to the condition of the patient. “Would I could be useful,” he tells the doctor, “I would come on shore and nurse him.” When the gallant officer died at Deal on the 28th September, the Admiral begged that his friend’s hair might be cut off; “it shall remain and be buried with me.” Again we see the wistful, woman-like emotionalism of Nelson’s nature. He calls it “a happy release,” and says in the same sentence, “but I cannot bring myself to say I am glad he is gone; it would be a lie, for I am grieved almost to death.” When “the cleverest and quickest man and the most zealous in the world” was buried at Deal, Nelson attended the ceremony. It is recorded that the man who could stare Death in the face without flinching, who was “in perils oft” and enjoyed the experience, was visibly affected. The Admiral’s grief was expressed in a practical way. Finding that the deceased Captain had left his finances in a most unsatisfactory condition he paid the creditors in full.
The war with France had lasted eight weary years. Great Britain had more than maintained her own on the sea; Napoleon had proved his consummate skill in the manipulation of land forces. Overtures for peace were mooted, then definitely made through M. Otto, a French agent in London for the exchange of prisoners. The cessation of hostilities became the topic of the hour. After innumerable delays the preliminaries were signed in London on the 1st October 1801, to the joy of the populace on both sides of the Channel. Nelson was not convinced as to Napoleon’s bonâ fides. He loathed the French and took no pains to disguise the fact. In writing to a friend a fortnight or so before he received news of the event mentioned above, he admits, “I pray God we may have Peace, when it can be had with honour; but I fear that the scoundrel Buonaparte wants to humble us, as he has done the rest of Europe—to degrade us in our own eyes, by making us give up all our conquests, as proof of our sincerity for making a Peace, and then he will condescend to treat with us.” The Admiral was not far wrong, as subsequent events proved. In a letter dated the 14th September, two days later than the one from which the above quotation is made, he looks forward “with hope but will not be too sanguine. I yet hope the negotiation is not broken entirely off, for we can never alter the situation of France or the Continent, and ours will become a War of defence; but I hope they will do for the best.” Three days after the signature of the preliminaries of peace he warns the commanders of the various squadrons that they are to be “very vigilant in watching the Enemy, and, on no account to suffer them to put into the Channel, as hostilities have not yet ceased.” Napoleon confirmed the treaty on the 5th October, the ratifications were exchanged on the 10th,
“And London, tho’ so ill repaid,Illuminations grand display’d,”as a poetaster sang in a contemporary periodical. Nelson referred to it as “good news,” but received a note from Addington warning him that his flag must be kept flying until the Definitive Treaty had been signed.
When he heard that the mob had unharnessed the horses and drawn the carriage of General Lauriston, Napoleon’s first aide-de-camp who had brought the document to London, the Admiral was furious. “Can you cure madness?” he asks Dr Baird, “for I am mad to read that … scoundrels dragged a Frenchman’s carriage. I am ashamed for my Country.” On the 14th October he formally asked the Admiralty to give him permission to go on shore. He was then suffering from “a complaint in my stomach and bowels,” probably caused by sea-sickness and cold. This request was not immediately complied with, but towards the end of the month he was released, and wrote to Lady Hamilton, “I believe I leave this little Squadron with sincere regret, and with the good wishes of every creature in it.” One wonders whether there could be a more restless nature than Nelson’s, which made him yearn for the land when at sea, and for the sea when on land.
He retired to Merton Place, a little estate in Surrey and “exactly one hour’s drive from Hyde Park.” This had been purchased on his behalf by Lady Hamilton, who took up her quarters there with her husband. The first mention of it in Nelson’s “Dispatches and Letters,” as edited by Sir Harris Nicolas, is in a note to his friend Alexander Davison of Morpeth, on the last day of August 1801. “So far from making money, I am spending the little I have,” he tells him. “I am after buying a little Farm at Merton—the price £9000; I hope to be able to get through it. If I cannot, after all my labours for the Country, get such a place as this, I am resolved to give it all up, and retire for life.” In thanking Mr Davison for his offer of assistance in purchasing “the Farm,” Nelson goes a little deeper into the question of his personal expenditure. It will “take every farthing I have in the world,” and leave him in debt. “The Baltic expedition cost me full £2000. Since I left London it has cost me, for Nelson cannot be like others, near £1000 in six weeks. If I am continued here (i.e. in the Downs) ruin to my finances must be the consequence, for everybody knows that Lord Nelson is amazingly rich!”
The Admiral took his seat in the House of Lords as a Viscount on the 29th October, and made his maiden speech in the upper chamber on the following day. Appropriately enough it was to second the motion “That the Thanks of this House be given to Rear-Admiral Sir James Saumarez, K.B., for his gallant and distinguished conduct in the Action with the Combined Fleet of the Enemy, off Algeziras, on the 12th and 13th of July last.” The battle was fought with a French and Spanish squadron in the Gut of Gibraltar, details of which were entered into by Nelson, doubtless to the considerable enlightenment of the House. During the following month he was also able to pay a similar tribute to Keith and his officers for their services in Egypt. With characteristic thoroughness he also remarked on the part the Army had played in the defeat of Napoleon’s expedition.
He was feasted and feted for his own splendid work, but he fell foul of the Corporation of the City of London, because that body had seen fit to withhold its thanks for the victory of Copenhagen, conduct which he deemed “incomprehensible.” He certainly never forgave the Government for refusing to grant medals for the same battle. Nelson brought up the question before the authorities with pugnacious persistence, and some of the officers renewed their application over a quarter of a century later, but the Copenhagen medal still remains to be struck. “I am fixed never to abandon the fair fame of my Companions in dangers,” he avers. “I may offend and suffer; but I had rather suffer from that, than my own feelings.” He fought for pensions and appointments for all manner of officers and men, watched the list of vacancies and appealed that they might be filled by those who deserved well of their country.
CHAPTER XVII
The Vigil off Toulon
(1803)
“I shall follow them to the Antipodes.”
Nelson.For over a year Nelson spent the greater part of his time at Merton Place or at 23 Piccadilly, Sir William Hamilton’s town house. Any monotony there may have been was relieved by a tour of beautiful Wales, made in the months of July and August 1802, when Nelson’s spirits had recovered somewhat from the news of his father’s death at Bath on the 26th of the previous April. The old clergyman’s distinguished son was ill at the time and did not attend the last sad ceremony in the quiet churchyard of Burnham Thorpe, where Nelson said he hoped his bones would eventually be laid to rest, a wish never to be fulfilled. His father, who called Merton “the Mansion of Peace,” had entertained the idea of becoming “one of its inhabitants,” and rooms had been prepared for him. “Sir William and myself are both old men, and we will witness the hero’s felicity in retirement.” Such was his desire.
On their journey to the Principality Nelson was presented with the freedom of Oxford, and both Sir William and the Admiral had the honorary degree of Doctor of Laws conferred upon them by the University. A visit was also paid to Blenheim, the ancestral seat of the Dukes of Marlborough. Gloucester, Ross, Monmouth, Brecon, Milford, Haverfordwest, Swansea, Worcester, Birmingham, Warwick and other provincial cities and towns each accorded its distinguished visitor a most enthusiastic welcome. He afterwards drew up an elaborate report on the Forest of Dean for Mr Addington’s inspection. Properly cultivated it would, in Nelson’s opinion, “produce about 9200 loads of timber, fit for building Ships-of-the-line, every year.” Collingwood, it may be added, was also deeply interested in afforestation. During the rare occasions he was on shore he would walk about his estate and stealthily take an acorn from his pocket and drop it in the earth for later service in his Majesty’s Navy.
On his return to Surrey Nelson vegetated. “I am really so very little in the world,” he tells Davison in October, “that I know little, if anything, beyond [what] Newspaper reports say respecting our conduct on the affairs of the Continent. It is true, I have seen Mr Addington and Lord St Vincent several times; but our conversations were like Swift’s and Lord Oxford’s. Yet it was not difficult to discover, that we felt our importance in the scale of Europe degraded, if Buonaparte was allowed to act as he has lately done; and that it was necessary for us to speak a dignified language.... By the meeting of Parliament many things must come forth.”
The Hamilton-Nelson family forsook Merton for Piccadilly at the beginning of 1803, and there Sir William died on the 6th April, after having been tenderly nursed by his wife and her more than intimate friend. It is impossible to think that the Admiral had any heartfelt sorrow when the former Ambassador breathed his last, but his emotional nature led him to write the kindest things of the dead man. “The world never, never lost a more upright and accomplished gentleman” is one of his expressions at the event.
The Truce of Amiens, for it was nothing more, was described by George III. as “an experimental peace.” Neither side kept strictly to the letter of the Treaty. Before the brilliant illuminations on both sides of the Channel had been entirely forgotten statesmen began to shake their heads and to prophecy the withdrawing of the sword from the scabbard. Napoleon’s continued aggressions on the Continent, his great colonial schemes, his restless activity in matters which did not directly concern him, his threat to invade England showed how unreal were his wishes for a settled understanding. Great Britain declared war on the 16th May 1803, thus ending a peace which had lasted one year and sixteen days. An embargo was immediately laid on French ships and those of her allies in British ports or on the sea; Napoleon had been forestalled, an unusual occurrence. He had admitted to Decaen, who had been sent to India to sum up the political situation and to ascertain the number of troops necessary for the subjugation of England’s oriental Empire, that he anticipated war would not break out before September 1804. He was annoyed, intensely annoyed, and ordered the seizure of every Briton in France on the pretext that two merchant vessels had been captured by English frigates before the declaration of war. This was a gross misrepresentation of facts; the ships mentioned were taken on the 18th May, the day Nelson hoisted his flag on the Victory at Portsmouth as Commander-in-chief of the Mediterranean. Within forty-eight hours he was at sea. His was a tremendous programme, and it is only possible to give an epitome of it here. He was to proceed to Malta, where he would probably find Rear-Admiral Sir Richard Bickerton and his squadron, which were to join him. After having made arrangements with Sir Alexander Ball for the protection and security of the island, Nelson was to take up such a position off Toulon as would enable him to destroy the enemy’s vessels and to detain those belonging to the allied Batavian Republic. Particular attention was to be paid to the proceedings of the French at Genoa, Leghorn, and other ports of western Italy, “for the purpose of gaining the most early information of any armaments that may be formed there, either with a view to an attack upon Egypt or any other port of the Turkish dominions, or against the kingdoms of Naples and Sicily, or the islands of Corfu.” Should such a plan be in contemplation Nelson was to do his best to counteract it, “as well as to afford to the Sublime Porte, and his Sicilian Majesty and their subjects, any protection or assistance which may be in your power, consistently with a due attention to the other important objects entrusted to your care.”
There were good reasons for watching the conduct of Spain, which purported to be a neutral. The Admiral was therefore to watch for any sign of naval preparations by that Power in the Mediterranean and at Cadiz. No Spanish ships were to be allowed to form a junction with those of France or Batavia. As certain French sail-of-the-line recently employed in conveying troops to San Domingo might attempt to make for a southern port, Nelson was to detach part of his squadron to intercept them.
We must now turn our attention for a moment to the other admirals who watched the movements of the enemy’s squadrons, or guarded our shores. Cornwallis was off Ushant, where he could mask the Brest fleet, Keith was in the Downs, Lord Gardner was at Portsmouth, Admiral George Montagu—shortly afterwards succeeded by Admiral Sir John Colpoys—was at Plymouth. Squadrons were detached from these fleets to watch off such important harbours as Ferrol and Rochefort, and also off the coast of Holland. The British colonies were not neglected. “Floating bulwarks” guarded them, for there was no knowing what deep-laid manœuvres Napoleon might evolve when once his super-active brain was bent on the problem of how to checkmate England on her own native element.
Meanwhile Nelson had reached Ushant and was searching for Cornwallis, with whom he was to leave the Victory, should the former think an additional sail-of-the-line necessary. As he did not find the Admiral he left the ship, shifted his flag to the Amphion frigate, called at Malta, and joined the fleet off Toulon on the 8th July. “With the casual absence of one or two ships, we shall be always seven sail-of-the-line,” a none too formidable force to watch the “goings on” in the great southern arsenal, but he stuck to it with grim tenacity in fair weather and foul. He soon found that to all appearances from seven to nine French battle-ships and a considerable number of frigates and corvettes were sheltered in the harbour. Unfortunately Nelson’s vessels were far from being in the best of condition; several of them were scarcely water-tight. His correspondence teems with reference to their bad state, as, for instance: “It is not a store-ship a week which could keep them in repair”; they had “crazy masts”; “their hulls want docking”; “I never saw a fleet altogether so well officered and manned. Would to God the ships were half as good, but they are what we call crazy”; “I do not believe that Lord St Vincent would have kept the sea with such ships,” and so on.
With the personnel of the fleet Nelson had little fault to find, although he had occasion to issue a General Memorandum respecting the desertion of certain seamen or marines to the service of Spain. In his eyes nothing could atone for such conduct: “A Briton to put himself under the lash of a Frenchman or Spaniard must be more degrading to any man of spirit than any punishment I could inflict on their bodies.” With this exception all was well. While “miserably short of men,” he was able to declare, towards the end of September 1803: “We are at this moment the healthiest squadron I ever served in, for the fact is we have no sick, and are all in good humour,” moreover they were “in fine order to give the French a dressing.” Again: “The squadron has health beyond what I have almost ever seen, except our going to the Nile; and I hope, if the French will give us the opportunity, that our beef and pudding will be as well applied.” No Admiral, before or since, has ever paid more attention to the health and comfort of the men who served under him. In the Memorandum to which we have just referred he contrasts the “one shilling per day, and plenty of the very best provisions, with every comfort that can be thought of,” with the “twopence a day, black bread, horse-beans, and stinking oil” allotted to those in the service of the enemy. Scurvy was rife when he joined the fleet, but Nelson obtained onions and lemons, recognised aids to the cure of the disorder, “and a sight of the French squadron twenty leagues at sea will cure all our complaints.” Writing in August to his friend Dr Baird he seeks to entertain the physician by relating particulars of his treatment for scurvy. “I am now at work in Spain,” he remarks, “and have procured some bullocks and a good supply of onions—the latter we have found the greatest advantage from.” He adds: “The health of our seamen is invaluable; and to purchase that, no expense ought to be spared.” He even managed to secure cattle and vegetables from France. The fleet was watered at the Madalena Islands.
At the end of July the Victory, having been returned to the fleet by Cornwallis, again became Nelson’s flagship. As to the ultimate destination of the Toulon fleet Nelson was in doubt; that it was to sail before long he felt convinced owing to the activity manifest in the harbours. He rightly judged Napoleon’s character: “We know he is not very scrupulous in the honourable means of accomplishing his darling object.... My firm opinion is, that the Mediterranean will again be an active scene; and if Ministers do not look out, I shall have the Brest fleet to pay me a visit; for as the army can only be moved by the protection of a superior fleet, that fleet they will try to have, and a month’s start of us would do all the mischief.” At that time (July) he believed that Napoleon would make an attempt on the Morea, perhaps in concert with Russia, the downfall of the Turkish Empire in Europe would follow, and “Candia and Egypt would, of course, if this plan is followed, be given to the French, when, sooner or later, farewell India!” Of the enormous flotilla which Napoleon was building at Boulogne and elsewhere, Nelson thought little, if at all. “What! he begins to find excuses!” he writes to Ball. “I thought he would invade England in the face of the sun! Now he wants a three-days’ fog, that never yet happened! and if it did, how are his craft to be kept together? He will soon find more excuses or there will be an end of Bonaparte, and may the devil take him!” He was more concerned, and with reason, as to the whereabouts of the fleet returning from San Domingo, which he thought would “come to the Mediterranean—perhaps, first to Cadiz, to get the Spaniards to escort them. If so, I may have two fleets to fight; but if I have the ships, the more the merrier.” In August the Admiral tells Addington: “I am looking out for the French squadron—perhaps you may think impatiently; but I have made up my mind never to go into port till after the battle, if they make me wait a year, provided the Admiralty change the ships, who cannot keep the sea in the winter, except Victory, Canopus, Donegal, and Belleisle.” The fitting out of an expedition at Marseilles led Nelson to think that the invasion of Sardinia was contemplated. He therefore detached the only two frigates he had with him at the moment to cruise off Ajaccio to endeavour to intercept the enemy should they come that way. “Of course they will say that we have broken the neutrality if we attack them in the ports of Sardinia before their conquest, and if we do not I shall be laughed at for a fool. Prevention is better than cure.... My station to the westward of Toulon, an unusual one, has been taken upon an idea that the French fleet is bound out of the Straits, and probably to Ireland. It is said 10,000 men are collecting at Toulon. I shall follow them to the Antipodes.”
To Sir Richard Strachan he thus sums up the situation on the 26th August: “The French fleet being perfectly ready for sea, seven of the line, six frigates, and some corvettes—two sail-of-the-line are now rigging in the arsenal—I think it more than probable that they are bound to the westward, out of the Mediterranean. Therefore, as I am determined to follow them, go where they may, I wish you, in case they escape me, to send a frigate or sloop after them to find out their route, giving her a station where I may find her, and keep yourself either at the mouth of the Straits or off Europa Point, for I certainly shall not anchor at Gibraltar.” In the middle of October he is still as uncertain as ever as to the destination of the French. Some folk favoured the Morea, others Egypt, “and they may be bound outside the Mediterranean.” “Is it Ireland or the Levant?” he asks Ball in the early days of dreary November.
Think for one moment, as you sit reading this book in a comfortable room or on a little hillock in the open country, of the ceaseless vigil of Nelson as his weather-beaten vessels lay off Toulon. When a sea fog obscured his quarry he was in a fever of anxiety. “It was thick for two days,” he tells his brother William on one occasion, “and our frigates could not look into Toulon; however, I was relieved, for the first time in my life, by being informed the French were still in port.” Then there was always the possibility that the Brest fleet might escape and make its appearance at an awkward moment, and the likelihood of a visit from the returning squadron from the West Indies. He early discerned the outbreak of war with Spain. Pretending to be a neutral, that Power most assuredly exhibited the most flagrant favouritism for France. We have noted that Nelson anticipated the aid of the Dons to the French in the matter of the ships from San Domingo, help that was readily given when the vessels, evading Rear-admiral Campbell, stole into Coruña. This, of course, necessitated a strict blockade of the port, and Pellew was sent there instead of stationing himself off Rochefort as had been originally intended. References to them are frequent in his correspondence. Writing to the British Consul at Barcelona under date of the 13th September Nelson claimed “every indulgence which is shown to the ships of our enemies. The French squadron at Coruña are acting almost as they please; the Aigle French ship of war is not turned out of Cadiz,63 the French frigate Revenge is permitted to go out of that port, cruise, and return with prizes, and sell them. I will not state that every Spanish port is a home for French privateers, for this is well known; and I am informed that even at Barcelona English vessels captured by the French have been sold there. You will acquaint his Excellency [the Captain-general] that I claim for every British ship, or squadron, the right of lying as long as I please in the ports of Spain, whilst it is allowed to other powers; that I claim the rights of hospitality and civility, and every other right which the harmony subsisting between our sovereigns entitles us to.” This communication was followed thirteen days later by a despatch to Strachan in which Nelson is not only prophetic, but exhibits a cautious mood not usually associated with “the Nelson whom Britons love.” In this respect he has been much maligned. In battle his genius enabled him to see a little ahead of more ordinary men, but he never overstepped the bounds of prudence. “The occurrences which pass every day in Spain forebode, I fancy, a speedy war with England; therefore it becomes proper for me to put you upon your guard, and advise you how to act under particular circumstances. By looking at the former line of conduct on the part of Spain, which she followed just before the commencement of the last war, we may naturally expect the same events to happen. The French Admiral Richery was in Cadiz, blocked up by Admiral Man: on 22 August they came to sea attended by the Spanish fleet, which saw the French safe beyond St Vincent, and returned into Cadiz. Admiral Man very properly did not choose to attack Admiral Richery under such an escort. This is a prelude to what I must request your strict attention to; at the same time, I am fully aware that you must be guided, in some measure, by actual circumstances.