Once the flames were out of control, it was only a matter of time before the ship was destroyed. As the fire spread up the rigging and masts of the Orient, the effect was like a gigantic torch illuminating the battle area, and the ships nearest to the Orient began to move away to what was hoped would be a safe distance. Over a mile away, Midshipman Elliot was uncertain what ship was on fire: ‘Long after it was quite dark, perhaps about ten o’clock, we saw a ship down the line on fire – it was long before we could judge which party she belonged to – our share of the action was all but over, and we looked on with great suspense – at last, as the fire increased, we saw her three decks, which decided the point, as we had but two-deck ships. We wished to send boats down, but, on examination, had not one that could be made to swim, so shattered were they all. It was an awful sight.’
1771-1777 Nelson’s childhood was far from conventional. His mother died when he was nine – a psychological blow that left a permanent scar. He then spent a significant part of his short schooldays in the progressive Paston School at North Walsham, where the curriculum was much more liberal and arts-based than in the standard grammar schools of the time. The results of this schooling can be seen in his marvellous letters, which flow from his pen in an exhilarating stream of consciousness that vividly captures his impulsive and eager way of speaking.
Then, in March 1771, aged only twelve, he joined the Royal Navy under the patronage of his maternal uncle, Captain Maurice Suckling, and was away from home for most of his teens. Even in the Navy his training was unconventional. Suckling, did not keep his protege close by his side as was usual – instead, he seems to have deliberately planned for young Horatio to have as wide a variety of experience as possible.
A short spell in Suckling’s own ship, the 64-gun HMS Raisonable, in the Thames estuary was followed first by a voyage to the West Indies in the merchantman Mary Ann and then by another spell in the Thames, when the boy was sent out constantly in small boats. As he later remembered, this experience made him ‘confident of myself among rocks and sands, which has many times since been of very great comfort to me’.131
Then, still aged only fourteen, he took part in an expedition to the Arctic, and finally completed his early training with a two-year stint in the crack frigate HMS Seahorse in the East Indies, during which he saw action for the first time on 19 February 1775. At that point, he fell dangerously ill with malaria in 1775 and had to be invalided home.
Even so, his first four years in the Navy had been packed with activity and had given him a wide range of experience, in different types of ship and different environments, which helped to nurture his natural independence and energy.
He must have written home from the time he first went to sea, but nobody bothered to keep these boyish letters. So we know very little of his own impressions of his days as a midshipman. Biographers have had to rely on the family stories and his own very brisk outline in his autobiographical ‘Sketch of my Life’ written in 1799. Only with his promotion to lieutenant, in April 1777, do the first letters appear, and his own, distinctive ‘voice’ is heard for the first time.
Brueys was in favor of taking his warships to a safe harbor in Corfu once the remaining artillery and stores were landed, but Napoleon wanted the ships close at hand. After a week of discussion, Napoleon prevailed, and Brueys anchored the fleet in Aboukir Bay, 12 miles east of Alexandria. This anchorage was not ideal, with numerous sandbanks and little protection from the wind. Nevertheless, the bay offered the chance to unload the ships while they were anchored in a defensive formation.
One serious flaw was overlooked. The ships were anchored at the bow only so that they were free to swing with the prevailing wind. This left the possibility of enemy ships anchoring in front the vessel, out of reach of the French guns.
Brueys, however, was satisfied with the arrangement, mainly as he had other distractions. The fleet was running desperately short of food, water, and firewood – most of the supplies had been unloaded and taken by the army.
At this point (three months later) most of the British ships were about 9 miles from the French, although the Alexander and the Swiftsure were ahead, 2 or 3 miles away, and the Culloden was trailing about 7 miles behind because it was towing a French ship that had been captured off the Greek coast.
With relatively light winds, it would take about two hours to reach the enemy, yet it was now half-past two in the afternoon, with sunset due around seven o’clock. If they were to fight straight away, the battle would be at night. Nelson did not hesitate and pressed on towards the French. As soon as the British fleet was spotted, Rear-Admiral Blanquet du Chayla recalled that ‘the signal was then made for all the boats, workmen, and guards to repair on board of their respective ships, which was only obeyed by a small number’. Although the ships were short of men, the French were not unduly worried, as they expected the British to wait until the next day before attacking.
This was very much to the advantage of the British, as it allowed the French only the minimum time to prepare, and although they would soon be fighting in the dark, Nelson was relying on his captains to use their initiative – essential when effective communication between ships would be impossible. In terms of the number of guns carried by the battleships, the French and British were evenly matched, but the guns of their frigates, gunboats, and shore batteries gave the French the advantage.
The first French ship was the Guerrier, and Midshipman Elliot recorded how they decided to attack from the inshore side: When we were nearly within gun-shot , standing as aide-de-camp close to the Captain, I heard him say to the master that he wished he could get inside of the leading ship of the enemy’s line. I immediately looked for the buoy on her anchor, and saw it apparently at the usual distance of a cable’s length (i.e. 200 yards), which I reported; they both looked at it, and agreed there was room to pass between the ship and her anchor, (the danger was, the ship being close up to the edge of the shoal), and it was decided to do it . . . All this was exactly executed. I also heard Foley say, he should not be surprised to find the Frenchman unprepared for action on the inner side – and as we passed her bow I saw he was right, her lower-deck guns were not run out, and there was lumber, such as bags and boxes on the upper-deck ports, which I reported with no small pleasure.
This was a standard tactical move: because the majority of guns were positioned along both sides of a warship, the bow and stern were relatively unprotected blind spots – by anchoring just off the bow, the Zealous could fire all the guns of one side (a broadside) into the Guerrier, which could only return fire from a handful of guns at the bow.
Model, courtesan, dancer, fashion icon, actress, double agent, political hostess, mother, ambassadress, and hero’s mistress, Emma Hamilton performed many roles in her astonishing rise from poverty to wealth and fame.
None would have greater consequence for her than the part she played in Naples on July 19, 1798. She had joined the welcome party for Rear Admiral Horatio Nelson as his fleet anchored off the Bay of Naples. Nelson had come to protect Naples from the advancing French, and the Neapolitans were determined to give him a welcome fit for a hero. Rehearsals had been going on for weeks, but no one had been practicing as carefully as Emma Hamilton.
Ravishingly beautiful and still only thirty-three, she realized that Nelson’s arrival was a pivotal moment for her. Her life would never be the same again. Five years earlier, on Nelson’s first visit to the city, Emma had hardly noticed the unprepossessing naval captain.
By 1798, however, after his amazing success at the Battle of the Nile made him the one man who seemed able to save Europe from Napoleon, she saw his arrival as an opportunity to propel herself onto a bigger stage. Nelson was exhausted after weeks of fighting the French and in pain from his shot eye and the wound where his right arm had been amputated.
As soon as the great man boarded the welcome boat, Emma threw herself upon him, weeping with happiness.
(Much later) Probably the strangest gift came from Captain Hallowell of the Swiftsure, who presented Nelson with a coffin. The accompanying letter read: ‘My Lord, Herewith I send you a coffin made of part of L’Orient’s main mast, that when you are tired of this life you may be buried in one of your own trophies – but may that period be far distant, is the sincere wish of your obedient and much obliged servant, Ben Hallowell.’ For Nelson, Napoleon and many other key players, the Battle of the Nile was the start of a new phase of the war, but for John Nicol, below decks in the Goliath, it was ‘the glorious first of August, the busiest night in my life’.
“Heart of Oak” Royal Navy March
“Heart of Oak” was originally written as part of an opera. It was first played publicly on New Year’s Eve of 1760, sung by Samuel Thomas Champnes, one of Handel’s soloists, as part of Garrick’s pantomime Harlequin’s Invasion, at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane.
“Heart of Oak” is the official march of the Royal Navy of the United Kingdom. It is also the official march of several Commonwealth navies, including the Royal Canadian Navy and the Royal New Zealand Navy. It was also the official march of the Royal Australian Navy, but has now been replaced by the new march, “Royal Australian Navy“.
The music of “Heart of Oak” was composed by William Boyce, and the words were written by the 18th-century English actor David Garrick. “Heart of Oak” was originally written as part of an opera. It was first played publicly on New Year’s Eve of 1760, sung by Samuel Thomas Champnes, one of Handel‘s soloists, as part of Garrick’s pantomime Harlequin’s Invasion, at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane.
The “wonderful year” referenced in the first verse was the Annus Mirabilis of 1759, during which British forces were victorious in several significant battles: the Battle of Mindenon 1 August 1759; the Battle of Lagos on 19 August 1759; the Battle of the Plains of Abraham (outside Quebec City) on 13 September 1759; and the Battle of Quiberon Bay on 20 November 1759. The last battle foiled a French invasion project planned by the Duc de Choiseul to defeat Britain during the Seven Years’ War, hence the reference in the song to ‘flat-bottom’ invasion barges. These victories were followed a few months later by the Battle of Wandiwash in India on 22 January 1760. Britain’s continued success in the war boosted the song’s popularity.
Horatio Nelson, in full Horatio Nelson, Viscount Nelson of the Nile and Burnham Thorpe, also called (1797–98) Sir Horatio Nelson, or (1798–1801) Baron Nelson of the Nile and Burnham Thorpe, (born September 29, 1758, Burnham Thorpe, Norfolk, England—died October 21, 1805, at sea, off Cape Trafalgar, Spain), British naval commander in the wars with Revolutionary and Napoleonic France, who won crucial victories in such battles as those of the Nile (1798) and of Trafalgar (1805), where he was killed by enemy fire on the HMS Victory. In private life he was known for his extended love affair with Emma, Lady Hamilton, while both were married
Horatio Nelson was the sixth of 11 children of the village rector, Edmund Nelson, and his wife, Catherine. The Nelsons were genteel, scholarly, and poor. The family’s most important connection from which Nelson could expect preferment was that with a distant relation, Lord Walpole, the descendant of Sir Robert Walpole, who had been prime minister earlier in the century. Decisive for Nelson’s life, however, was his mother’s brother, Captain Maurice Suckling, who was to become comptroller of the British Navy. When Horatio’s mother died, Captain Suckling agreed to take the boy to sea.
In 1777 Nelson passed the examination for lieutenant and sailed for the West Indies, the most active theatre in the war against the American colonies. Promoted to captain in 1779, at the early age of 20, he was given command of a frigate and took part in operations against Spanish settlements in Nicaragua, which became targets once Spain joined France in alliance with the American Revolutionaries. The attack on San Juan was militarily successful but ultimately disastrous when the British force was almost wiped out by yellow fever; Nelson himself was lucky to survive.
In 1783, after the end of the American Revolution, Nelson returned to England by way of France. On his return to London he was cheered by the appointment, in 1784, to command a frigate bound for the West Indies. But this was not to be a happy commission. By rigidly enforcing the Navigation Act against American ships, which were still trading with the British privileges they had officially lost, he made enemies not only among merchants and shipowners but also among the resident British authorities who, in their own interest, had failed to enforce the law. Under the strain of his difficulties and of the loneliness of command, Nelson was at his most vulnerable when he visited the island of Nevis in March 1785. There he met Frances Nisbet, a widow, and her five-year-old son, Josiah. Nelson conducted his courtship with formality and charm, and in March 1787 the couple was married at Nevis.
Returning with his bride to Burnham Thorpe, Nelson found himself without another appointment and on half pay. He remained unemployed for five years, aware of “a prejudice at the Admiralty evidently against me, which I can neither guess at, nor in the least account for”—but which may well have been connected with his enforcement of the Navigation Act. Within a few days of the execution of King Louis XVI of France in January 1793, however, he was given command of the 64-gun Agamemnon.
Service In The Mediterranean
From this moment, Nelson the enthusiastic professional was gradually replaced by Nelson the commander of genius. The coming months were probably his most tranquil emotionally. At home waited a loving wife, whose son he had taken to sea with him. His ship, fast and maneuverable, and his crew, superbly trained, pleased him. His task was to fight the Revolutionary French and support British allies in the Mediterranean. Assigned to the forlorn defense of the port of Toulon against the revolutionaries—among them a 24-year-old officer of artillery, Napoleon Bonaparte—Nelson was dispatched to Naples to collect reinforcements. He later gratefully recognized that he owed the success of his mission largely to the British minister—the adroit and scholarly Sir William Hamilton, who had lived at Naples for 30 years and whose vivacious young wife, Emma, was in the queen’s confidence.
When Toulon fell, Lord Hood, Nelson’s commander, moved his base to Corsica, where Nelson and his ship’s company went ashore to assist in the capture of Bastia and Calvi, where a French shot flung debris into Nelson’s face, injuring his right eye and leaving it almost sightless. At the end of 1794, Hood was replaced by the uninspiring Admiral William Hotham, who was subsequently replaced by Sir John Jervis, an officer more to Nelson’s liking. At the age of 60, Jervis was an immensely experienced seaman who quickly recognized Nelson’s qualities and who regarded Nelson “more as an associate than a subordinate Officer.” The arrival of Jervis coincided with an upsurge of French success by land so that the British were forced to abandon their Mediterranean bases and retreat upon Gibraltar and the Tagus.
Battles Of Cape St. Vincent And The Nile
After a rendezvous with Jervis in the Atlantic off Cape St. Vincent on the previous day, Nelson on February 14, 1797, found himself sailing in mist through a Spanish fleet of 27 ships. The Spaniards were sailing in two divisions and Jervis planned to cut between the two and destroy one before the other could come to its assistance. But he had miscalculated, and it became clear that the British ships would not be able to turn quickly enough to get into action before the Spanish squadrons closed up. Without orders from Jervis, Nelson hauled out of line and attacked the head of the second Spanish division. While the rest of Jervis’ fleet slowly turned and came up in support, Nelson held the two Spanish squadrons apart, at one time fighting seven enemy ships. The efficiency of British gunnery was decisive, and he not only boarded and captured one enemy man-of-war but, from her deck, boarded and took a second.
The Battle of Cape St. Vincent won for Jervis the earldom of St. Vincent and for Nelson a knighthood, which coincided with his promotion by seniority to rear admiral. His first action in command of a major independent force, however, was disastrous. In the course of an assault on Tenerife, a grapeshot shattered his right elbow, and back in his flagship the arm was amputated. In the spring of 1798 Nelson was fit enough to rejoin the Earl of St. Vincent, who assigned him to watch a French fleet waiting to embark an expeditionary force.
Cruising off the port in his flagship, the Vanguard, Nelson was struck by a violent northwesterly gale that blew his squadron off station and carried the French well on their way to their destination, Egypt. The British set out in pursuit, Nelson believing that the French were going either to Sicily or Egypt. After a somewhat confused chase the British caught up with the French squadron in the harbour at Alexandria, near the mouth of the Nile, on August 1, 1798. There the British saw the harbour crowded with empty French transports and, to the east, an escorting French squadron of 13 ships anchored in a defensive line across Abū Qīr Bay near the mouths of the Nile. Once the signal to engage had been hoisted in the Vanguard, Nelson’s ships attacked the French. With the French ships immobilized, the attacking British ships could anchor and concentrate their fire on each enemy before moving on to demolish their next target. Its outcome never in doubt from its beginning at sunset, the battle raged all night. By dawn on August 2, the French squadron had been all but annihilated. The strategic consequences of the Battle of the Nile were immense, and Nelson took immediate steps to broadcast the news throughout the Mediterranean as well as hastening it to London. Nelson was made a baron in recognition of his victory at the Battle of the Nile.
At Naples, the most convenient port for repairs, he was given a hero’s welcome, stage-managed by Lady Hamilton. A prolonged British naval presence in Naples was useful in supporting the shaky military strength of King Ferdinand, the one major ruler in Italy to be resisting the southward march of the French, who had already taken Rome and deposed the pope.
The love affair that developed between Nelson and Emma Hamilton came at a time of crisis. With Nelson’s encouragement, King Ferdinand had indulged his own fantasies of glory and, openly joining the alliance of Great Britain, Russia, and Austria against the French, led his own insignificant army to recapture Rome. Not only was this a disastrous failure but the French counteroffensive drove him back to Naples, which itself then fell. Nelson had to evacuate the Neapolitan royal family to Sicily, and at Palermo it became obvious to all that his infatuation with Emma Hamilton was complete. She had proved herself indispensable company to him.
Blockade Of Naples And Battle Of Copenhagen
In the summer of 1799, Nelson’s squadron supported Ferdinand’s successful attempt to recapture Naples, but word of his dalliance with Emma had reached the Admiralty, and his superiors began to lose patience. Bonaparte had escaped from Egypt to France, and the French still held Malta when Lord Keith, who had replaced St. Vincent as commander in chief, decided that the enemy’s next objective would be Minorca. Nelson was ordered to that island with all available ships but refused on the grounds that he expected the threat to be toward Naples. Events justified him, but to disobey orders so blatantly was unforgivable. The Admiralty, also angered by his acceptance of the dukedom of Bronte in Sicily from King Ferdinand, sent him an icy order to return home.
In 1800 he returned, but across the continent in company with the Hamiltons. When the curious little party landed in England, it was at once clear that he was the nation’s hero, and his progress to London was triumphal. Nelson was promoted to vice admiral in January 1801. Emma was pregnant by him when he was appointed second in command to the elderly admiral Sir Hyde Parker, who was to command an expedition to the Baltic. Shortly before sailing, Nelson heard that Emma had borne him a daughter named Horatia.
Parker’s fleet sailed for the first objective, Copenhagen, early in 1801. At first Nelson’s advice was not sought; then, as Danish resistance became increasingly likely, he could record, “Now we are sure of fighting, I am sent for.” By the stratagem of taking the fleet’s ships of shallower draught through a difficult channel, Nelson bypassed the shore batteries covering the city’s northern approaches. The next morning, April 2, he led his squadron into action. There was to be no room for tactical brilliance; only superior gunnery would tell. The Danes resisted bravely, and Parker, fearing that Nelson was suffering unacceptable losses, hoisted the signal to disengage. Nelson disregarded it, and, an hour later, victory was his; the Danish ships lay shattered and silent, their losses amounting to some 6,000 dead and wounded, six times heavier than those of the British.
Before this success could be followed by similar attacks on the other potential enemies, Tsar Paul of Russia died and the threat faded. Parker was succeeded by Nelson, who at last became a commander in chief. He was also made a viscount. The Admiralty, well aware of his popular appeal, now made maximum use of it by giving him a home command. At once he planned an ambitious attack on the naval base of Boulogne in order to foil a possible French invasion. He did not take part himself, and the operation was a gory failure. A second attempt was abandoned because of peace negotiations with France, and in March 1802 the Treaty of Amiens was signed.
At last there was time to enjoy the fruits of his victories. Emma had, on Nelson’s instructions, bought an elegant country house, Merton Place, near London, and transformed it into an expensive mirror for their vanities. At last her husband rebelled, but it was too late for change, and he appeared reconciled to his lot when, early in 1803, he died with his wife and her lover at his side
Victory At Trafalgar
Bonaparte was known to be preparing for renewed war, and, two days before it broke out, Nelson, in May 1803, was given command in the Mediterranean, hoisting his flag in the Victory. Once again he was to blockade Toulon, now with the object of preventing a rendezvous between the French ships there with those at Brest in the Atlantic and, after Spain declared war on Britain, with Spanish ships from Cartagena and Cádiz. A combined force of that size could well enable Bonaparte to invade England; and in early 1805, Napoleon, who the previous year had crowned himself emperor, ordered the fleets to converge for this purpose. The French and Spanish squadrons were to burst through the British blockade; run for the West Indies; and after ravaging British possessions and trade, return across the Atlantic in a single invincible fleet to destroy the British near Ushant, an island off Brittany, and take control of the English Channel while it was crossed by an invading army of 350,000.
In March, Admiral Pierre Villeneuve, who was to be in overall command, broke out of Toulon under cover of bad weather and disappeared. Nelson set off in pursuit. Villeneuve cut short his marauding, but his fleet was intercepted and damaged by a British squadron. Failing to win control of the English Channel, he ran south to Cádiz.
Nelson put into Gibraltar, made dispositions for the blockade of Cádiz, and returned to England. During his 25 days at home, he planned the strategy for the confrontation with the Franco-Spanish fleets that seemed inevitable; 34 enemy ships were blockaded in Cádiz by smaller numbers under Admiral Cuthbert Collingwood. Although Napoleon, abandoning the plan of a cross-Channel invasion, began to redeploy the Grand Army, in Britain the danger of invasion seemed as pressing as ever, and Nelson appeared the country’s hope.
When his orders came, Nelson on September 15 sailed in the Victory. He was now at the height of his professional powers. Worshiped by his officers and sailors alike, he was confident that his captains understood his tactical thinking so well that the minimum of consultation would be required. On his 47th birthday he dined 15 captains in his flagship and outlined his plans to bring on a “pell-mell battle” in which British gunnery and offensive spirit would be decisive. He planned to advance on the Franco-Spanish fleets in two divisions to break their line and destroy them piecemeal. This was the final abandonment of the traditionally rigid tactics of fighting in line of battle.
After receiving Napoleon’s orders that he must break the blockade, Villeneuve, on October 20, sailed out of Cádiz. At dawn next day, the Franco-Spanish fleets were silhouetted against the sunrise off Cape Trafalgar, and the British began to form the two divisions in which they were to fight, one led by Nelson, the other by Collingwood. As the opposing fleets closed, Nelson made his famous signal, “England expects that every man will do his duty.” The Battle of Trafalgar raged at its fiercest around the Victory, and a French sniper, firing from the mast of the Redoutable, shot Nelson through the shoulder and chest. He was carried below to the surgeon, and it was soon clear that he was dying. When told that 15 enemy ships had been taken, he replied, “That is well, but I had bargained for 20.” Thomas Hardy, his flag captain, kissed his forehead in farewell and Nelson spoke his last words, “Now I am satisfied. Thank God, I have done my duty.”
Although the victory of Trafalgar finally made Britain safe from invasion, it was, at the time, overshadowed by the news of Nelson’s death. A country racked with grief gave him a majestic funeral in St. Paul’s Cathedral, and his popularity was recorded in countless monuments, streets, and inns named after him and, eventually, in the preservation at Portsmouth of the Victory. Emma Hamilton and his daughter, however, were ignored. Emma died, almost destitute, in Calais nine years later. Horatia, showing her father’s resilience, married a clergyman in Norfolk and became the mother of a large and sturdy family.
Nelson had finally broken the unimaginative strategic and tactical doctrines of the previous century and taught individual officers to think for themselves. His flair and forcefulness as a commander in battle were decisive factors in his two major victories—the battles of the Nile and Trafalgar. In the former, he had destroyed the French fleet upon which Napoleon Bonaparte had based his hopes of Eastern conquest, and in the latter he had destroyed the combined French and Spanish fleets, thus ensuring the safety of the British Isles from invasion and the supremacy of British sea power for more than a century. Spectacular success in battle, combined with his humanity as a commander and his scandalous private life, raised Nelson to godlike status in his lifetime, and after his death at Trafalgar in 1805, he was enshrined in popular myth and iconography. He is still generally accepted as the most appealing of Britain’s national heroes.
Edited by: EZorrilla.