Nelson: Britannia's God of War

by Andrew Lambert

The months spent ashore between Tenerife and the Nile gave him the chance to learn how to operate with his new writing hand, to adjust his clothes and equipment, and to increase the strength and dexterity of his left arm. The mental adjustment was if anything less difficult than the physical. The powerful strain of religious resignation in Nelson’s thought ensured that he saw the loss as God’s will – a chance of battle, and only one of a catalogue of wounds he would continue to suffer.29 Wounds were tokens of glory and honour, not defects to be hidden. He never tried to hide his empty sleeve, pinning it across his chest, frequently joking about his loss and naming the stump his ‘fin’. The missing arm even featured at his investiture into the Order of the Bath, at St James’s Palace on 27 September. When the King thoughtlessly blurted out that he had lost his arm, Nelson quickly introduced Edward Berry as his ‘right hand’. This ancient ceremony, rich in imagery, pageant and theatre, was a key element in Nelson’s recovery. The act of putting a star on his breast made Sir Horatio Nelson a real hero: his countrymen looked on him as a talisman, while the Freedom of the City of London testified to the commercial impact of his services. He was ready to make the next step.

  While he waited for his recovery, Nelson was examined for his wounds pension; he also pressed his youngest brother’s claims and commiserated with Weatherhead’s father. By late November he was preparing to go back to sea, on the new eighty-gun second-rate, HMS Foudroyant, a ship named for Jervis’s last command as a captain. As she was not ready, he was moved into the seventy-four gun Vanguard, then fitting at Chatham, and directed Berry to take command. He was officially pronounced fit to serve on 13 December; five days later the Vanguard came out of dock.30

  By the time Nelson returned to service, the very nature of the war had changed. The stakes had been raised, and the prospects of a negotiated settlement were much reduced. Intermittent attempts to secure peace with the French Directory had been under way at Lille since July, but Bonaparte’s triumph in Italy encouraged the French to continue a struggle they were winning. In mid-September the British envoy, Lord Malmesbury, was told to leave. He had arrived home just in time to hand the King the sword with which he dubbed Nelson. The symbolism was powerful: new times need new men, and no one would rise to the challenge of total war like Nelson.

  *

  Nelson’s return had coincided with a major change in the strategic situation. On 11 October Adam Duncan’s North Sea fleet, recently the infamous Nore mutineers, encountered the Dutch fleet off Camperdown. Without waiting to form a line of battle, and in no particular order, Duncan launched a two-column attack on the enemy, who were desperately seeking the sanctuary of their shallow coastal waters. The lighter Dutch ships were shattered in the resulting close-quarters fighting; many surrendered, including their admiral. When the news reached London two days later it was greeted with rapture, although the revellers who called at Nelson’s door to demand the windows be illuminated went away once they knew it was his house. Camperdown was the ideal riposte to the collapse of peace talks. It had been expected that the Dutch fleet would escort an invasion of Ireland, always a weak point in the British defence plan.31 The destruction of the fleet ended this threat. On a broader canvas the victory decisively altered the balance of naval power in Britain’s favour.While the captured Dutch ships were small and badly damaged, some were used on the North Sea station32 where the enemy now had far fewer ships. This released British units for service in the Channel and the Cadiz station. Without Camperdown it is unlikely the Admiralty could have found the ships for the reoccupation of the Mediterranean – the central event in Nelson’s life.

  The politicians were not slow to exploit the triumph for public consumption. Foreign Secretary Lord Grenville argued that Camperdown was the most important victory of the war in political terms. He advised Spencer:

  One of the great objects is the raising of people’s spirits, and I wish to suggest to you with this view whether it would not be right … that the [Dutch Commander in Chief’s] flag should be paraded through the streets with a proper detachment of sailors, and lodged in St. Paul’s. You are too sensible of the effects of impressions of this nature to treat this idea lightly; for if we had done in this war half that our enemies have done to raise the courage and zeal of their people, we should not now be where we are.33

  Clearly French propaganda was having an effect. The country needed a more national, British message, not the limited, conventional celebrations accorded to earlier victories. It was all very well for the King to honour Howe on his flagship after the First of June, but it was hardly a public event.34 A better model was the Elizabethan pageant at St Paul’s after the defeat of the Armada in 1588. Once Spencer had accepted the idea of a public event the Prime Minister broadened it into a truly national naval pageant:

  I trust your idea of the Te Deum at St. Paul’s is not laid aside, though it may as well not take place till the first Sunday after the meeting of Parliament. Might it not include in the object of the thanksgiving all the great naval successes of the war?35

  Two weeks later Pitt demonstrated the meaning of the new war. It was not, he declared, about trade, colonies or Empire, but about the very liberty and independence of the British people. The country had the wealth and power to fight for its survival, and it was a matter of honour to stand up to France, in the interests of Europe: every man should ‘be ready to sacrifice his life in the same cause’.36

  The age of total war had dawned and Pitt was creating the fiscal means to wage such conflicts. The income or ‘war’ tax would limit British borrowing, helping to keep the interest rates markedly lower than France ever managed, and ensuring the City of London was at one with the government. Linking naval victory and the commercial hub of the empire with the symbols of success, loyalty and the Church went a long way towards the creation of a new national identity – and this identity would find its ultimate symbol in Nelson.

  The ceremonial laying-up of the captured flags went ahead as Pitt had suggested on 19 December, with a grand service of thanksgiving at St Paul’s attended by the King and royal princes. The spacious cathedral adapted to its new role as the national pantheon with ease, while the City of London, for which much of the naval activity of war was undertaken, must have been delighted by the obvious connection of State, Navy and City. The King was the central figure, his procession being led up the nave by Spencer, carrying the sword of state. George pointedly stopped to speak with Duncan. During Holy Communion the organist and choir played Purcell’s ‘I will give thanks unto thee, O Lord’, and naval officers marched through the choir screen carrying an impressive collection of captured enemy ensigns, each on a pole with a placard noting where it had been taken. There were French colours at the head and Dutch at the rear, but in the middle of the parade were those taken off Cape St Vincent. Two admirals escorted these trophies – Thompson and Waldegrave, supported by Nelson, who had been called to participate by Spencer. As the flags were passed to the Dean, Nelson stood on the very spot his coffin would occupy at the beginning of his funeral a mere eight years later. Both the event and the atmosphere met his idea of the heroic. This was how the state commemorated its greatest deeds and raised the spirit of the country in times of adversity. It was for just such a public demonstration of his fame that Nelson would lay his life on the line, over and over again. The pioneering event was not universally popular, of course – some saw the underlying French model, and did not enjoy the connection; others of a more radical stripe preferred outright condemnation of the minister who was raising taxes to pay for the war, and burnt effigies of Pitt across London.37

  Nelson received the Freedom of the City of London on 28 December, rounding off a year in which he had reached flag rank and public fame, but lost an arm and a battle. He was already awaiting orders to go back to sea. The war was entering a new phase, one in which his unique abilities would be fully employed.

  Notes – CHAPTER VII

  1 Nelson to Spencer 4 and 16.1.1797; Nicolas VII pp. cxxvii�
�iii This chapter draws extensively on Colin White’s 1797: Nelson’s Year of Destiny, 1998

  2 Minto to Portland (Home Secretary) 24.1.1797; Minto II p. 371

  3 Nelson to Wife 13.1.1797; Naish p. 312

  4 Nelson to Jervis 25.1.1797; Nicolas VII p. cxxix

  5 Nelson to Wife 27.1.1797; Naish pp. 312–13

  6 Jervis to Spencer 16.2.1797; Nicolas II pp. 355–6

  7 Quoted in Nelson to William Nelson 17.2.1797; Nicolas II pp. 351–2

  8 Nelson to Locker 21.2.1797; Nicolas II pp. 353–5

  9 Nelson received the letter on rejoining the fleet after Tenerife; Nelson to Parker 19.8.1797; Nicolas II p. 438. Parker was disgraced in 1800 for leaving his station in search of prize, and died in 1802.

  10 Nelson to Wife 28.2.1797; Naish pp. 317–18

  11 Jervis to Spencer 26.2.1796; 5.3.1797; 6.4.1797 and Spencer to Jervis 3.4.1797; Spencer II pp. 93–7; 379–85

  12 Jervis to Spencer 5.3.1797; Spencer II p. 372

  13 Nelson to Jervis 11.4.1797; to Saumarez 12.4.1797; Nicolas II pp. 376 and 381.

  14 Robert Blake, Cromwell’s leading ‘General at Sea’, destroyed a Spanish fleet at Tenerife in 1657.

  15 Nelson to Jervis 12.4.1797; Nicolas II pp. 378–81

  16 Nelson to Jervis 21.4.1797; Nicolas VII pp. cxxxii–iii

  17 Nelson to Wife 27.5.1797; Naish pp. 324–5

  18 Nelson to Mazzaredo and reply 30.5. and 1.6.1797; Nicolas II pp. 388–9

  19 Nelson to Jervis 19.4.1797; Nicolas II pp. 378–81

  20 Nelson to St Vincent 6, 7, 9, 10, 12 and 13.6.1797; Nicolas II pp. 392–7 and VII pp. cxxxix–cxli

  21 Nelson to Wife 15, 29 and 30.6.1797; Naish pp. 325–8

  22 St Vincent to Spencer 3.8.1797; Spencer II 413

  23 Nelson to Jervis 27.7.1797; Nicolas II pp. 434–5

  24 Nelson to Wife 5 and 16.8.1797; Naish pp. 332–3. Nelson to Jervis 16.8.1797 and reply of same day; Nicolas II pp. 435–6

  25 St Vincent to Lady Nelson 16.8.1797; Naish p. 371. St Vincent to Admiralty 16.8.1797; Nicolas II pp. 434–5.

  26 The section on Tenerife is drawn, unless otherwise noted, from the much richer account given in Colin White’s magnificent 1797: Nelson’s Year of Destiny, pp. 89–133.

  27 St Vincent to Spencer 16.8.1797; Spencer II 414

  28 Walker: Abbott had already painted Hood and Bridport, among other naval sitters.

  29 In an early letter he declares ‘my mind has long been made up to such an event’: Nelson to Wife 3.8.1797; Nicolas II p. 436

  30 Correspondence October–December 1797; Nicolas II pp. 447–61

  31 It appears that there were no current plans of this sort, although 25,000 men had been embarked over the summer. Desbrière Projets I pp. 264–6

  32 Nelson would command several ex-Dutch ships in 1801.

  33 Lord Grenville to Spencer 13.10.1797; Sp. II pp. 195–6

  34 Tomlinson, B. ‘The Battle Sanctified’, in Duffy, M. and Morriss, R. The Glorious First of June. Exeter, 2001 pp. 165–6.

  35 Pitt to Spencer 22.10.1797 Sp. II pp. 213–15

  36 Coupland, R. ed. The War Speeches of William Pitt the Younger. Oxford, 1915 Speech of 10.11.1797 pp. 227–8. The republication of these rousing calls to national unity in the next total war was not accidental.

  37 Jordan, G. and Rogers, N. ‘Admirals as Heroes; Patriotism and Liberty in Hanoverian England’, Journal of British Studies 28 (1989), p. 213

  Nelson views the destruction of L’Otient from the quarterdeck of HMS Vanguard

  CHAPTER VIII

  The Nile Campaign 1798

  By the end of 1797, Rear Admiral Sir Horatio Nelson’s fame was firmly established. Even the failure at Tenerife had not dented his reputation, because his earlier Mediterranean exploits had been so memorable, and his conduct in defeat was as stirring as his most daring moments at St Vincent. Yet he remained the hero of another man’s battle – as he had told Clarence a decade earlier, he would not be thenational hero until he had led the fleet to victory.

  The war was changing rapidly from an eighteenth-century question of provinces, islands and indemnities into a struggle for survival. The collapse of the first coalition left Britain with little prospect of an ally capable of defeating the French and restoring the pre-war frontiers, let alone the pre-war regime. Britain’s coalition partners generally failed to see the war in such absolute terms: they continued to run balance sheets of profit and loss, a trifling game that Britain was forced to play because she had no war-winning strategy of her own. The two core adversaries, Britain and France, remained in an uneasy stalemate, each side victorious in part, but unable to find a settlement of their differences that could bring long-term security. On the one hand French plans to invade Britain had been utterly defeated, by wind, weather and warships; yet on the other, Britain could not be secure while France occupied Belgium and controlled Holland, and would not prosper while she controlled access to European markets. Nelson’s solution to this impasse would be to take the art of war at sea to new levels, securing British naval dominance by annihilating any hostile fleet that put to sea. Only by securing an absolute command of the sea could Britain survive without allies, and impose a truly effective blockade on France.

  Pitt’s financial reforms and the naval successes of 1797 provided a platform to sustain the British war effort. British government borrowing was secured at a far lower rate of interest than that paid by her rivals, and further economic changes would develop Britain’s capability to sustain her power over the long term. However, long wars make grave demands, and the government continued to look for powerful allies. The obvious focus for Britain’s foreign policy was the Mediterranean: she needed to renew links with Austria, the only major power that appeared both ready and willing to fight, and to reopen the major markets that had been closed for the last year. 1

  Nelson, nursed back to health by his mother/wife, was ready for these new challenges. He had no thought of leave, or of settling down in the mythical ‘cottage’ that had occupied so many of his letters to Fanny. His soul did not take wing in a quiet cottage garden, but on the quarter-deck of a battleship, commanding squadrons and fleets, matching his insight, judgement and intellect against the best the enemy could do. For him the path seemed divinely pre-ordained, even if it was not revealed. Perhaps he was resigned to death as the ultimate price of immortal glory – certainly his fixation with the career and death of James Wolfe suggested as much.

  After 1797 Nelson knew he had the ability to lead: the promise held out by his earlier minor triumphs had been fulfilled. This was not simply a matter of intellect and resolve. The Mediterranean campaigns from 1793 to 1797 had demonstrated that his remarkable, warm, human leadership, his care for those he led, inspired ships’ companies, fleets and fellow officers. Even hard-bitten old professionals like Jervis succumbed to his zeal, charm and professionalism; and the envy of his peers and elders was almost always replaced by recognition that he was the better man.

  Nelson’s company was now sought by the leading men of the age; he divided his stay in England between Bath and London, not finding time to return to his native Norfolk and making only a flying visit to the house he had bought near Ipswich. His social popularity was delightful after the bitter years in the wilderness, and he recorded the kindness of the great with a naive pleasure. He mixed regularly with Cabinet ministers and his views influenced their strategic discussions. Secretary at War William Windham recorded a dinner on 28 November, for example, at which Nelson was among his guests, along with the Lord Chancellor, Foreign Secretary Lord Grenville, Elliot and Norfolk peer Lord Cholmondley.2 At such dinners, the themes that occupied Nelson’s every waking thought – Navy and Empire, trade and power – were the main topics of discussion, and the authority with which he spoke was soon recognised. Windham, for example, noticed that the letters he received from Earl St Vincent in the Mediterranean agreed entirely with the predictions made by Nelson at the dinner table.3 The Nelson effect was almos
t universal: the formidable Lady Spencer was so taken with the ‘wonderful mind’ that ‘broke forth’ that she wanted to see Nelson whenever he came to the Admiralty, and noted his every action at a farewell dinner.4

  Although Nelson took great pleasure in being the lion of the season, he was anxious to rejoin his Commander and resume his career. He hoped to rejoin the fleet off Cadiz in early March.5 At the same time St Vincent and Spencer were discussing the entry of a squadron into the Mediterranean, prompted by the impending withdrawal of Portugal from the war, and consequent exclusion of the fleet from Lisbon. The loss of Portugal threatened Britain’s economic lifeline: the Atlantic trade routes. French warships or privateers based at Lisbon could annihilate the trade on which Britain depended. The British had to act quickly: the only friendly ports inside the Straits were in Naples, but to use them would only encourage the French to take control of even more of the peninsula. There was an air of desperation in Spencer’s idea, prompted by St Vincent, of sweeping round the sea to see what damage could be done before retiring to England.6

  Everything depended on the movements of the French, and the Brest Squadron caused considerable alarm in January by preparing for sea. A convalescent Nelson was frustrated by being in Bath, far from the centre of action. He and Fanny returned to London in late February, and attended a Royal Levee on 28 February. He took leave of the King in mid-March, and prepared for sea; Fanny would go back to Bath, to rejoin old Edmund.7There was time to write his will, leaving almost everything to Fanny, before hoisting his flag on the Vanguard at Portsmouth on 29 March.8 Spencer, writing to St Vincent, was confident that he would be pleased by the news:

  I am very happy to send you Sir Horatio Nelson again, not only because I believe I cannot send you a more zealous officer, but because I have reason to believe that his being under your command will be agreeable to your wishes. If your lordship is as desirous to have him with you as he is to be with you, I am sure the arrangement must be perfectly satisfactory.9