Nelson: Britannia's God of War Read online

  NELSON

  Britannia’s God of War

  ANDREW LAMBERT

  To my father David Lambert,

  another Norfolk man of the sea

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  List of Illustrations

  Preface

  INTRODUCTION: Nelson Today, Nelson in Context

  PART ONE: The Making of a Hero

  I: The Student of War 1758–82

  II: Nelson, the Americas and a Wife 1783-92

  III: The Chance for Glory 1793

  IV: Corsica and the Passing of Hood 1794

  V: The Commander Emerges 1795

  VI: Nelson and Jervis, Partners in War 1796

  PART TWO: Towards Greatness

  VII: Triumph and Disaster 1797

  VIII: The Nile Campaign 1798

  IX: Naples and the Hamiltons 1798–9

  X: Subordination and Homecoming 1799–1800

  PART THREE: The Years of Command

  XI: Command in the Baltic Sea 1800–1

  XII: Defying Bonaparte 1801

  XIII: Master of the Mediterranean 1803–5

  XIV: To the West Indies and Back 1805

  XV: Trafalgar 21 October 1805

  PART FOUR: Nelson after Trafalgar

  XVI: Death and Transfiguration 1805–85

  XVII: Nelson Revived 1885–2005

  Appendix, Sources, Notes and Index

  Appendix: ‘The Black Legend’

  List of Source

  Notes

  Index

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Plates

  Illustrations

  PLATE SECTION

  1 The first portrait of Nelson, by John Francis Rigaud

  2 Portrait of Nelson by his lifelong friend Cuthbert Collingwood

  3 Nelson Boarding the San Josef at Cape St Vincent by George Jones.

  4 Nelson wounded in the right arm by Richard Westall

  5 The Battle of the Nile by Thomas Whitcombe

  6 The Destruction of L’Orient at the Battle of the Nile by George Arnaud

  7 Nelson recreating with his brave tars by Thomas Rowlandson

  8 The Battle of Copenhagen by Nicolas Pocock

  9 The Battle of Trafalgar by J. M. W. Turner

  10 The Death of Nelson by Benjamin West

  11 The Death of Nelson by Arthur Devis

  12 Nelson’s uniform coat, with the hole made by the fatal bullet

  13 Trafalgar Day 1905

  14 The Apotheosis of Nelson by Benjamin West

  PICTURES IN TEXT

  Nelson aged 22 in Captain’s uniform,

  Cross-section of a ship of the line in Nelson’s time,

  A Midshipman,

  Captain Maurice Suckling,

  Captain William Locker,

  Nelson volunteering to board a prize in a gale,

  Prince William Henry on board the Prince George,

  Frances Nelson, née Nisbet,

  The burning of the French fleet at Toulon,

  Admiral Lord Hood,

  Fighting a gun in action, by Rowlandson,

  Admiral Sir John Jervis,

  The boarding of the San José,

  The last letter written by Nelson with his right hand and the first with his left,

  Nelson views the destruction of L’Orient from HMS Vanguard,

  Lady Hamilton,

  Ledy Hamilton posing in an ‘attitude’,

  ‘The Jolly Tars of Old England’,

  The attack on Copenhagen,

  Horatia, Nelson’s daughter, aged two,

  Nelson in civilian dress with Lady Hamilton,

  Bonaparte sees ‘the writing on the wall’,

  Wellington and Nelson, September 1805,

  Nelson explains his plan of attack,

  Admiral Lord Collingwood,

  Benjamin West, The Death of Nelson (detail),

  The Nelson Column on Trafalgar Day, 1897,

  Vivien Leigh and Laurence Olivier in Lady Hamilton (1941),

  MAPS AND CHARTS

  The battle of Cape St Vincent,

  Nelson in the Mediterranean,

  The battle of the Nile,

  The battle of Copenhagen,

  The trans-Atlantic chase, May to July 1805,

  The battle of Trafalgar,

  All Plate Section pictures are © National Maritime Museum, London (www.nmm.ac.uk) except 13, © Getty Images/Hulton Archive. All Pictures in Text are from Nelson and His Times by Rear-Admiral Lord Charles Beresford, 1897, except that on page 339, courtesy of the British Film Institute. Charts on pages 88, 114–15, 125 and 204 © John Flower, 2004.

  Preface

  I began this book after two decades researching, writing and teaching naval history. It was the last task that persuaded me to make the attempt. Students possess a remarkable ability to question received wisdom, and always expect better answers. I had long believed that Nelson’s was a story so often told as to defy re-interpretation, but such thoughts were soon changed by the experience of trying to teach from the extant literature. The questions that my students posed were not biographical: they wanted to know about his education, his approach to strategy, his relationship with other senior officers, and the longer view of his significance. Why was Trafalgar such a landmark? Without those questions this book would not have been written. It was in the Naval History classes of the past decade that much of this approach was developed.

  With the bicentenary looming, promising a dramatic upsurge of interest in the greatest Admiral, there would be no better time to address these questions. The fortuitous combination of an idea for a book and a publisher with the courage to try another Nelson has left me eternally indebted to my editor at Faber, Julian Loose, whose merits will only be truly understood by those who have worked with him. His oversight of the project has been one of its principal pleasures. As the idea turned into a manuscript I was fortunate to find willing and able readers. Michael Budden spoke up for the opposition, Michael Tapper provided a view of Nelson from Burnham Thorpe and a long immersion in the subject, while Colin White shared the fruits of his immense labours in the field, labours which have done much to widen our view of the man, and to uncover more of his legacy. Because they asked such good questions their input was invaluable; by seeing the work through their eyes my judgements have been questioned, and refined.

  Support for the project was equally forthcoming from the staffs of the various libraries, museums and archives in which it was researched: the British Library, the National Archives, the National Maritime Museum, the Nelson Museum at Monmouth, the libraries of the University of Michigan and Duke University, North Carolina. The library of King’s College, London, holds a wealth of important literature on the subject. The cultural impact of Nelson was equally significant, with major collections at Greenwich, Portsmouth, Monmouth and Great Yarmouth, along with the enduring presence of HMS Victory. Yet for me, and I suspect many others, the true meaning of Nelson only becomes clear in the crypt of St Paul’s. My debt to those scholars whose ideas and research have contributed to this book, from the eminent students of Nelson to art historians and strategists, is reflected, if not adequately repaid, in the footnotes and bibliography. What merit this book has is largely a reflection of the range and quality of work on which it is based.

  A very different kind of research took me to sea on the replica of HMS Endeavour in 2001. I will be eternally grateful to the BBC for the opportunity to serve in an eighteenth-century square rigger and learn about time and motion, the camaraderie of the sea and the inner life of the ship. They were also kind enough to send me home. In 2003 another BBC project took me to a number of Nels
on sites, widening my understanding of critical campaigns. The University of Copenhagen hosted a lecture on the posthumous reputation of the hero, and provided an opportunity to see the site of the battle and the passage of the Sound at Elsinore. Similarly the National Museums and Galleries on Merseyside hosted a lecture on the artistic response to Nelson’s death at the Walker Gallery, alongside two of the major canvases.

  My family has given more help than I have a right to ask. Fortunately for Zohra and Tama-Sophie Calvi was a great holiday destination, but on so many occasions when the needs of an author have clashed with other demands they have understood. My parents have provided constant support, emphasising one thing that I am proud to share with my subject. I am a Norfolk man. While writing this book I incurred another debt, to the surgical team and all the staff at the Papworth Hospital in Cambridgeshire. Their skill and care transformed my father’s life.

  My colleagues at King’s College provided the encouragement and consideration that make the academic community such a positive working environment. The support of the Tubney Charitable Trust has enabled the College to increase the provision of Naval History, uncovering yet more excellent students anxious to pursue the subject. That support has been greatly appreciated by the staff and students of the Laughton Naval History Unit. The Navy Records Society has provided another focus for Nelson studies, and the support of the Officers and Council has made my term as Secretary a pleasure. Disinterested scholarship and polite discourse are still alive in the twenty-first century.

  By some curious chance I finished the manuscript of this book at the end of January 2004, the day I surpassed Nelson. Turning off the computer I was profoundly struck by the fact that I had just exceeded his lifespan, by half an hour.

  Although many people have helped to limit my ignorance, and reduce the errors that appear in this book, for which they have my sincere thanks, they cannot share responsibility for what appears in print. That, very properly, rests on my head.

  ANDREW LAMBERT

  Dereham

  Norfolk

  Nelson aged 22 in Captain’s uniform, by J. F. Rigaud

  INTRODUCTION

  Nelson Today, Nelson in Context

  There are events and individuals in history so far outside the ordinary that a mere record of facts, however detailed, cannot convey their meaning. We do not understand them literally, but at a heightened, spiritual level. Their magic attracts the attention of every generation: they continue to shape our views, mould our actions. Horatio Nelson was one such individual, and the purpose of this book is to ask what he means for us now – at the start of the twenty-first century, in a state increasingly integrated into a pan-European system and spared the horrors of major war for sixty years. Nelson is no longer the national hero celebrated by Churchill in 1940, or the scandalous figure so hotly debated by the Victorians, let alone the granite statue, twice life-size, that stands in Trafalgar Square. Yet all of these incarnations have played a part in the making of our Nelson, removing him from the events of his own life. In an age of cheap celebrity and instant fame it is important to understand the enduring centrality of Nelson. Whatever it means to be British in the twenty-first century, Nelson is part of that identity, as he has been since his first great triumph in 1798.

  Nelson remains a national secular deity, the god of war for troubled times, the last resort against overwhelming odds, guardian against tyranny. In life Nelson met and defeated the greatest challenge to the independence and prosperity of his country, through his genius for war, moral and political courage, and willingness to make the ultimate sacrifice. He lived at a time when his country had need of heroes, and became the central figure in a new national identity. Around him coalesced the very concept of Britain, a state committed to God, King, parliament and liberty, relying on naval power to keep Bonaparte out and the trade routes open. Nelson died in the heroic mould, and was interred as an example to be emulated, at the core of a new national pantheon. His name became the talisman of victory, his ship a shrine.

  He was placed on a pedestal at the centre of London to remind his countrymen and women from whence their ‘Wealth, Safety and Strength’1 came, and at what cost. Nelson arrived at a crucial moment in the history of human thought, bridging the gap between the Age of Reason, when man replaced God at the centre of the universe, and the Romantic Age, which challenged the rational, mechanical conception of events, the ‘Newtonian Universe’, with a search for meaning beyond the facts. The search for a higher sensibility led some back to God, or other forms of spirituality – found in art or the notion of a universal hero. The latter role fitted Nelson to perfection. Unlike the military heroes of the age, who destroyed their romantic credibility in government, Nelson’s greatness was entwined with the sea, an alien element, at once threatening, but distant; a theatre for the sublime. With his death and transfiguration Nelson assumed divine status: he was, and is, in Lord Byron’s words, ‘Britannia’s god of war’.

  Consequently we all think we know about Nelson: born in a humble parsonage in Norfolk, blinded and mutilated in battle, destroyer of French fleets, conqueror of Copenhagen and lover of Lady Hamilton. Among the most famous men of all time, his image is universally recognised, as picture, statue, caricature or fancy dress, and he has been subjected to more biographies than every other admiral put together. Writers from Robert Southey and Byron onwards have constructed Nelsons to meet their very different political agendas, conservative and radical, and Nelson has been over-painted, well and badly, by every succeeding generation. Yet the modern Nelson remains a patchwork image, reflecting the concerns of different generations and ages: we still know very little of the man.

  By separating the events of Nelson’s life from the way in which his myth has been transmitted by subsequent generations, we may hope to distinguish the human core from the heroic legend. To this end, the chapters of this book that deal with Nelson’s life are based on contemporary evidence, while the judgements of later commentators are dealt with in the context of their own era. By removing posthumous constructs from his life we can separate what we know about Nelson into matters of record and matters of interpretation. The real task of this book is to free Nelson of the distortions, errors and absurdities that have been heaped on his name – most notably, the critical judgement of his conduct at Naples in June and July 1799 – but it will also seek to make him more human, and more relevant. It will focus on the development of his professional skill and assess his debt to his mentors: the flowering of a unique talent is at the core of this book, and it does not diminish Nelson to understand why he was the finest naval commander of all.

  Nelson’s private life will be dealt with where relevant, but without either the romantic hyperbole or sanctimonious moral judgements that have characterised those biographies for which this has been the main point of interest. Such approaches are unhistorical. Nelson’s private life was unconventional, but not unusual; it never threatened his employment, or stopped him answering the call of duty. It was also a small part of his life: his time ashore after the spring of 1793 comprised six months to recuperate from the loss of his arm, six weeks at the end of 1800, when his marriage broke up, seventeen months during the Peace of Amiens, and three weeks before Trafalgar. Once at sea his letters were almost always about his work, and his professional concerns. Consequently his private life should be seen as a minor part of the story: he lived for duty.

  This is not to say that Nelson’s personality is unimportant to the concerns of this book. On the contrary, his leadership was so much more effective than that of fellow officers because he understood the human condition, and based his command on love, not authority. To work with Nelson was to love him: even the most hard-bitten veterans were unable to resist his courage, commitment and charisma. His colleagues were his friends, and he expected their love and loyalty, not mere service. He did his duty where lesser men just followed their orders. This was why he earned the love of a nation. These were fine qualities on their own – when
combined with an unequalled mastery of war, strategy and politics they changed the history of the world.

  Nelson’s abilities as a naval commander may justly be described in terms of genius, not merely greatness. To paraphrase a very wise passage by John Lukacs, great men make the best of the world, men of genius transform it to conform to their own ideas.2 It is a central contention of this book that Nelson transformed the art of war at sea, to render it effective in the titanic struggle of the French Revolutionary and Napoleonic wars. He used the newly forged instrument to block every extra-European initiative by the French, and he did so in the context of a total British response to the revolutionary era that generated a national identity and a far more powerful state.

  *

  In order to grasp such issues we need to understand the context in which Nelson emerged: we need to know far more about his intellectual and professional origins, his education, and the impact of the wider world on his career and conduct. In the two hundred years that have passed since Nelson’s death, the art of war at sea – the theatre of his genius – has been transformed out of all recognition. Before we consider his life, it is essential that we understand the nature of his profession, the opportunities and the limits that constrained his thinking. We must examine the age in which he lived, and the profession in which he functioned, with the same rigour that other studies have applied to his life.

  Nelson’s career coincided with the age of revolution: he saw the world turned upside down, as first the American and then the French Revolutions transformed the relationship between the people and their rulers and shifted war from a limited affair that modified boundaries into a mechanism that could destroy states and transform continents.3 Monarchies were overthrown and republics set up while nation states emerged from the morass of dynastic ties and petty principalities. All of these things would influence Nelson, giving him a foundation for loyalty, a simple patriotism and the task of withstanding a nation seemingly rendered invincible by its transformation. Winning wars in the age of reason had been a matter of persuading the enemy that it was in their best interests to concede some limited loss. This system, which dated back to 1648, had been based on an agreement of mutual convenience among monarchs. It was destroyed by the French Revolution: after 1793 war was about destroying rival states, and imposing onesided treaties – conquer or be conquered!4 The war aims of Republican and Imperial France were inconsistent with a stable European state system. Territorial seizures, plunder and ideological pressures made the country so powerful that ultimately the rest of Europe was forced to destroy the French state, rebuilding it in a new form as the only guarantee for peace. There could be no lasting peace with a regime that did not accept the rules of the state system. This required a new level of war: the limited, formal engagements of the eighteenth century would no longer suffice – the age of total war had dawned.