Admiral Collingwood
Page 21
Let others plead for pensions; I can be rich without money, by endeavouring to be superior to everything poor. I would have my services to my Country unstained by any interested motive; and old Scott and I can go on in our cabbage patch without much greater expense than formerly. But I have had a great destruction of my furniture and stock; I have hardly a chair that has not a shot in it, and many have lost both legs and arms, without hope of pension. My wine broke in moving, and my pigs were slain in battle; and these are heavy losses where they cannot be replaced.15
Such was his mood during this winter of unremitting effort, when the Admiralty seemed to have forgotten his convenient existence, that Collingwood’s pen lashed out in several directions. One target was Nelson’s morally bankrupt, hearse-chasing brother William, who had inherited his earldom, to Collingwood’s and others’ disgust:
I suppose all the public reward of money will go to the parson, the present Earl Nelson, who of all the stupid dull fellows you ever saw, perhaps he is the most so. Nothing in him like a gentleman …16
He was equally infuriated with Sir Robert Calder, who had written to him after Trafalgar asserting his claim to a share of the head-money, despite having been sent home in disgrace before the battle. But his musings were cut short by news that the Brest fleet was out, and expected to head south. So from Cartagena he once more sailed west to cover Cadiz. His brief departure from the Mediterranean helped precipitate events coming to their head in Naples. The Queen had been stringing the British along while she secretly, but indiscreetly, negotiated with Napoleon to retain Naples. An Anglo-Russian force in the Bay of Naples appeared to strengthen her position. But after the disaster at Austerlitz Russian intervention became impossible. Russia withdrew her forces to Corfu, from where she controlled the Ionian Islands and the entrance to the Adriatic. The commander of the British force, General Sir James Craig, withdrew his five thousand-strong army from Naples to Messina to prevent a French invasion of Sicily, and the Neapolitan court once more retired to Palermo, as they had done in 1799. They were carried in Collingwood’s old Excellent, veteran of the battle of Cape St Vincent in which he had first exercised his record broadside with such deadly effect.
Sicily is the largest Mediterranean island, its culture a suitably extreme manifestation of the fatalistic resentment and apathy expressed in Giuseppe Lampedusa’s masterpiece The Leopard.17 Expropriated by the Neapolitan Bourbons, it lay under twin shadows cast by centuries of foreign domination, and impending natural disaster. Almost as close to Africa as it is to Europe, its volcanic soils are fertile but drought-ridden. It was coveted more for its strategic location: for two thousand years and more it has held the key to domination of the Mediterranean. At its south-east corner the ancient Graeco-Roman city of Syracuse provided a sheltered base and watering facilities for naval squadrons. In the north-east was Messina, the crucial harbour and garrison that controlled movement along the Strait and held the key to invasion from the mainland.18 Not for nothing were its mythical goddesses Scylla, the sea monster and Charybdis, the whirlpool, still held in awe by sailors. On the north coast lay the capital Palermo, a city of extraordinarily sordid and magnificent contrasts, more African and Byzantine than Italian, militarily indefensible but at the hub of political and court intrigue.
It was from here that Collingwood began to receive letters of supplication in February 1806. ‘Our situation is very, very painful and critical,’ Queen Maria Carolina had written from Naples in January, even before Joseph Bonaparte had arrived at the head of a conquering army and forced them to flee. ‘I count on you to be, as the respectable Lord Nelson was for us, our friend, protector and defender.’19
Later in the same month she wrote him another letter, followed by one from her husband. This time her ‘entire hope is in the brave and loyal British nation.’20 She implored Collingwood to send her a division of warships to protect Sicily and recover her kingdom. The King followed with a description of their ‘fatal’ position, ripe for invasion despite his own ‘vigorous efforts’ at defending the island.21
That sort of moral blackmail might have worked with Nelson, as it seemed to work with Sir Gilbert Elliot, the British minister at the court. Collingwood’s sense of duty to the service and to his own ministers in Whitehall allowed him to take a much more dispassionate view of Their Majesties’ discomfort. He knew perfectly well their devotion to the British crown was all expediency. He did not feel the natural awe of royalty for its own sake that had so turned his friend’s head. He was, however, concerned for the military security of the island, and began to conceive a plan for its naval defence.
First, he had to mitigate the British government’s inept handling of what he regarded as crucial allies in North Africa. He had already warned the new First Lord, Lord Barham, of the importance of keeping Morocco and Algiers friendly. The British fleet was heavily dependent on them for supplies of water and fresh food, particularly beef; and their attitude towards French privateers using their ports had to be handled more delicately than the current crop of consuls could manage.
Apart from six months under Moises at the Royal Grammar School, and a lifetime at sea, what had prepared Collingwood for a career as a diplomat? His interest in history and politics, his geographical curiosity, and his natural wisdom; perhaps also the ingenuous honesty and directness of the naval officer. Combining these with his felicity of expression, he now showed that there was more than one weapon available to the navy in its dealings with foreign powers. Where Nelson had threatened, Collingwood deployed enlightened self-interest and flattery:
To His Highness the most renowned MOHAMED, Pacha of Algiers, the Admiral of His Britannic Majesty’s fleet wishes health, peace and the blessing of God.
Your letter, most renowned Pacha, which expressed your satisfaction in our conduct … gave me pleasure …
I am sorry that any misunderstanding should have caused a suspicion in His Majesty’s Consul that you were not kindly disposed towards British subjects. As I am not fully informed of the matters which made him doubt the friendship of your Highness, I cannot say any thing about it at present; but I can confidently assure you of the friendly disposition of His Majesty towards your Highness, and trust that the same sentiments on your part will insure to the English that conduct from you which is due to a sincere friendship.
For my own part, when I consider how much it is in the interest of Algiers at this time to be in perfect amity with England, I cannot persuade myself that you would weaken it by any act of yours.
Your Highness cannot shut your eyes to the constant encroachments of an ambitious power, which, setting justice and the happiness of mankind at defiance, would possess itself of all countries – a power whose object is to govern the whole Mediterranean. Establishments in Africa are necessary to the attainment of that purpose; and what prevents it but the British Navy?
When Your Highness revolves this subject in your wise mind, you will perceive that the interest of the Regency22 requires that sincere friendship with England to which you profess to be so much disposed.
Trust, most renowned Pacha, that in all things in my power you will find me desirous to be your friend …23
Collingwood’s good work was being undermined not just by insensitive consuls, but by the actions of his own officers. Gunboats which he had deployed in the defence of Gibraltar, and which he expressly forbade from entering African ports, had been cruising along the Barbary coast, picking up neutral vessels belonging, among others, to Portugal.24 Collingwood wrote to the new Foreign Secretary, his fellow Northumbrian Charles Grey, to warn him of an impending rift with Morocco:
Our affairs with the Barbary States, which are now become very important, should only be intrusted to persons who are sufficiently dextrous to conform to manners so perfectly different from those of Europeans.25
If the government in London had not previously appreciated the stature of their new Commander-in-Chief, they were in the process of being educated. The few communications he had
received from the Admiralty since Trafalgar seemed more concerned with promotions than with the grand strategic picture. But just as his long experience with seafaring matters had taught him everything from the necessity of examining pursers’ accounts, to sweeping the night horizon with his own telescope, Collingwood now found he had to take a more personal hand in political matters. From now on, he dealt increasingly not just with senior diplomats, but also directly with deys and beys, with pashas, sultans, kings, queens, emperors and Sublime Portes.
Collingwood’s first letter to King Ferdinand at Palermo was written in March 1806. He had sent a small squadron to patrol the Strait of Messina, and hoped that His Majesty would be reassured by their presence. He also made it quite clear that he was looking at a bigger picture. Insofar as a British admiral may patronise the king of a foreign power, Collingwood managed it:
Most gladly would I repair with my whole force to the coasts of your Majesty’s dominions for their protection, were I not well assured that the station which I hold here, by preventing the French squadrons from getting into the Mediterranean, will more effectually answer that purpose than any other position I could take.26
Collingwood’s problem, as it had been every naval commander’s in the Mediterranean, was a lack of frigates: the eyes and ears of the fleet. Nelson had said that when he died they would find ‘want of frigates’ stamped on his heart. As a theatre of operations, the Mediterranean was simply too big and its politics too complicated to patrol with a cumbersome fleet of battle ships. And with the stifling of French trade there was little other intelligence available. Like Nelson, Collingwood did not want the Toulon fleet to be blockaded too closely; he wanted them to come out so that he could fight them. But he needed frigates to watch them and follow them and report back to him. The Admiralty seemed to have forgotten his existence.
As ever, his mind wandered to domestic events, especially on those rare occasions when a ship brought letters from home. Mary Moutray wrote to tell him that her daughter Kate was engaged, and that she had heard her friend Cuthbert’s orders for the fleet after Trafalgar had been used as a sermon. Cuthbert was amused. Two things, he admitted to Mary, did not amuse him. One was that his title had been carelessly drafted so that the barony would only pass through the male line. He was naturally concerned to ensure that, since he was unlikely to have a son, it should pass to his elder daughter Sarah. He had petitioned Whitehall on several occasions, and been promised that the matter was being attended to. Another matter that began to rankle was that Collingwood’s recommendations for promotions after Trafalgar seemed to have been ignored, apart from Clavell, whom he had made commander of the Weazel sloop on his own authority. He began to wonder if the Admiralty held him in disfavour.
To Sarah he wrote on 21 March, knowing he might have to wait weeks for the letter to be sent. As always, he wished for the French to come out one last time so that he could beat them and go home. In the meantime he asked Sarah to arrange for some of the barer parts of the Hethpool estate to be planted with larch, oak and beech. ‘You will say’, he wrote, ‘that I have mounted my hobby; but I consider it as enriching and fertilising that which would otherwise be barren.’ He also urged Sarah to take great care with the girls’ education, ‘not throwing away their precious time on novels and nonsense’.
He was recalled from these musings by the arrival from England of Pompée, an 80-gun third-rate commanded by Sir William Sidney Smith. Collingwood knew all about Smith, the ‘Swedish knight’. He was unlikely to forget his role in the ignominious retreat from Toulon in 1793. He gave him credit, rightly, for the heroic defence of Acre in 1799. But he distrusted him, as an officer incapable of obeying orders. This was no time for dash, or for the rockets and torpedoes that Smith had tried at Boulogne.27 He gave him very strict instructions to defend Sicily against French attack but warned Elliot, the minister at Palermo, to keep an eye on him. His main concern was that the King and Queen would make some disastrous bargain with Joseph Bonaparte to recover Naples. He also worried that between them Smith and the new commander of the British army in Sicily, Sir John Stuart, would be persuaded or encouraged to undertake a military offensive on the mainland. He was right to worry.
Smith began a harrying operation against coastal forts along the Italian peninsula. They were undoubtedly effective as a nuisance, and delighted the King and Queen, for whose tastes Collingwood did not appear sufficiently active. Smith reinforced Gaeta, the coastal fort south of Naples which still held out against the French, and then carried out an ambitious assault on the island of Capri, in the Bay of Naples. In June he persuaded Stuart to attempt a similar assault on Calabria from Messina, both to disrupt the French commander Reynier’s invasion plans, and to gain a foothold on the mainland. The result was a stunning success at the battle of Maida. But it could not be followed up; the force retreated across the Strait to Messina, and Smith’s failure to protect Gaeta led to its loss too. Nevertheless, and to Collingwood’s intense annoyance, Smith was created ‘Viceroy of Calabria’ by King Ferdinand. That September Collingwood wrote to his brother John:
I am sadly off with this Sir S. Smith at Sicily; the man’s head is full of strange vapours and I am convinced Lord Barham sent him here to be clear of a tormentor, but he annoys me more than French or Spanish fleet and the squadron he has is going to ruin.28
In April 1806 Collingwood’s own circumstances changed once again. He transferred into Ocean, a new 80-gun flag ship: ‘without exception, the finest-looking one I ever saw; but, like all new ships, she wants every thing to be done to her, to fit her for war.’29 News came from England in the same month that Collingwood’s cousin Edward had died, leaving the bulk of his estate to Cuthbert. The property consisted of a large house at Chirton near North Shields, together with its coal mine. The mine had not been run with a view to a profit, but now Collingwood was its owner, and he determined to master yet another discipline, albeit from more than two thousand miles away. He hoped he might make enough money from the colliery to ensure the financial security of his sisters and daughters, though he was adamant he would not put up the rents of his tenants if it caused them hardship, and would have none of them turned out of their houses on any account.30
Some of the material possessions in the house had been independently left to another cousin, Stanhope, presumably the same Stanhope who had interfered in Collingwood’s business before. Now, what he heard of Stanhope’s conduct at Chirton enraged him even more:
The shabby creature wanted the old cask in which the wine was. I wonder he did not claim the bottles too. Really such meanness in people who call themselves, of condition, quite astonishes me. It is very bad condition … take away the old casks! Did you ever hear anything like it? But I hear he found money in the house, perhaps [in] aunty Lawson’s snug corner.31
The main impediment to increasing production at the mine seemed to be an argument over a way-leave for a wagon way. In effect this meant that horse-drawn coal wagons running from the mine on wooden rails had to pass over someone else’s land to get to the staithes on the River Tyne (Thomas Hedley’s Puffing Billy, the first working locomotive at a coal mine, would not be built until a year or so after Collingwood’s death, just a few miles upstream at Wylam). At the staithes the coal would be transferred into keels or colliers, and then shipped to London to supply the capital’s insatiable need for fuel. As it happened, the land in question was owned by the Duke of Northumberland. The difficulties which a series of agents and lawyers made in arranging the way-leave rights ensured that Collingwood and the duke, a veteran of the Seven Years’ War and the American War of Independence, kept up a lively correspondence until Collingwood’s death. These letters are of great interest, not just to students of the Industrial Revolution. The duke soon realised that Collingwood’s rank as a mere admiral belied his political and diplomatic skills, and so the two men began a frank and mutually interesting exchange of views on political and military developments in Europe. Of more social interest is the fact
that the duke treated Collingwood as a social equal in his correspondence, and referred to her grace the duchess’s looking forward to getting to know Sarah, now Lady Collingwood. In an age when birth was so much a superior gift to merit, this is extraordinary; it reflects very much on the stature Collingwood had acquired, not just through his career achievements, but through his intellectual and social development as a gentleman.
The cares and worries of a man playing for high stakes on the world stage, which he confessed made him ‘giddy with the multiplicities’,32 still gave Collingwood time to muse on one of his favourite subjects: junior officers. One young man, a Mr Haultaine, sent to him by his old patron and friend Admiral Roddam:
is so entirely useless that [Captain Lechmere] is afraid he must try him by a court-martial to get rid of him. It is this kind of people that cause all the accidents, the loss of ships, the dreadful expense of them, mutinies, insubordination and everything bad. They must produce a certificate that they are 21 years of age, which they generally write themselves, so that they begin with forgery, proceed with knavery, and end with perjury …33
To others, especially if they had some life about them, he was indulgent, as Hercules Robinson recalled many years later, perhaps with a tint of rose in his eye:
Nelson and Collingwood, who were about as yielding as their respective anchor stocks, and who regarded a shower of shot as much as a shower of snowflakes, were as tender-hearted as two schoolgirls. When Collingwood promoted me from his own ship to be lieutenant of the Glory, he sent a commendation with me, which, when my new Captain Otway read it to me, made my cheek tingle, knowing how undeserved it was, and feeling that my having been discovered playing with Bounce, the Admiral’s dog, ‘Poor Bouncey, good dog, dear Bouncey’ & c., and feeding ‘Nanny’, his goat, with biscuit, when she butted her head at me, had effected more than I cared to acknowledge in my promotion.34