Harold Wheeler
The Boys' Nelson
CHAPTER IX
The Battle of the Nile
1798
As long as Egypt’s pyramids shall stand,
Long as the Nile shall fertilize her land;
So long the voice of never-dying fame
Shall add to England’s glory Nelson’s name!
W. T. Fitzgerald.
It is difficult for a landsman to appreciate the joy with which Nelson’s captains, his “Band of Brothers,” as he called them, as well as the men of lower rank, beheld the enemy moored in line of battle parallel with the shore in Aboukir Bay on what might well be termed “the glorious first of August.” They had been searching the Mediterranean for long, weary weeks, anxious to try conclusions with Napoleon’s fleet, but thwarted at every turn by lack of information. At last they were face to face, led by an admiral of unequalled resolution in whom they placed implicit confidence.
“The utmost joy,” says Berry,26 “seemed to animate every breast on board the Squadron, at sight of the Enemy; and the pleasure which the Admiral himself felt, was perhaps more heightened than that of any other man, as he had now a certainty by which he could regulate his future operations. The Admiral had, and it appeared most justly, the highest opinion of, and placed the firmest reliance on, the valour and conduct of every Captain in his Squadron. It had been his practice during the whole of the cruize, whenever the weather and circumstances would permit, to have his Captains on board the Vanguard, where he would fully develop to them his own ideas of the different and best modes of attack, and such plans as he proposed to execute upon falling in with the Enemy, whatever their position or situation might be, by day or by night. There was no possible position in which they could be found, that he did not take into his calculation, and for the most advantageous attack of which he had not digested and arranged the best possible disposition of the force which he commanded. With the masterly ideas of their Admiral, therefore, on the subject of Naval tactics, every one of the Captains of his Squadron was most thoroughly acquainted; and upon surveying the situation of the Enemy, they could ascertain with precision what were the ideas and intentions of their Commander, without the aid of any further instructions; by which means signals became almost unnecessary, much time was saved, and the attention of every Captain could almost undistractedly be paid to the conduct of his own particular Ship, a circumstance from which, upon this occasion, the advantages to the general service were almost incalculable.”
We must now try to understand the strength and position of the French fleet. It consisted of thirteen line-of-battle ships, three carrying eighty guns and one one hundred and twenty guns, and four frigates. Napoleon, who was far away adding triumph to triumph, had left Admiral Brueys with three alternative plans. He could enter the port of Alexandria, Aboukir Roads, or sail for Corfu, leaving the transports at Alexandria. Brueys soon found that the harbour scarcely held sufficient water for the navigation of his largest ships. Once inside, it would be next to impossible to get them out in front of a hostile fleet on account of the narrow exit. He chose Aboukir Bay, in a position some ten miles from the Rosetta mouth of the Nile. Here he anchored his thirteen battle-ships, with great gaps between them, in a line roughly parallel with the shore, and flanked by gunboats and frigates. His van was placed as close to Aboukir Island as was practicable. Dr Fitchett has rather overstated the case in saying that “a battery of mortars on the island guarded, as with a sword of fire, the gap betwixt the headmost ship and the island.”27 In another place he also refers to the head of the French line being “protected by a powerful shore battery.”28 There were certainly a few guns, but “a sword of fire” suggests a heavy armament, and Napoleon had occasion later to severely criticise the Admiral’s arrangement in this matter.29 Brueys was ill, his marines had almost got out of hand, many of the sailors were raw recruits, and subversive of discipline, and some of the vessels were scarcely seaworthy. In tonnage and guns the French had the advantage, in morale and fighting capacity, the British were first.
Nelson determined to sail between Brueys’ line and the shallows. Five British ships, led by the Goliath, crossed the bows of the first ship of the French van, inshore of the enemy’s line, and anchored abreast of one of the Frenchmen, while three more, including Nelson’s Vanguard, stationed themselves on the outer side. Some of the captains for various reasons were unable to take up their correct fighting positions, the Culloden, for instance, struck a shoal and took no part in the battle. The enemy’s van was surrounded and conquered; the centre became engaged; the rear alone escaped, Villeneuve, its commander, making off with two battleships and two frigates without attempting to fight.
“The actions,” Captain Berry relates, “commenced at sunset, which was at thirty-one minutes past six, p.m., with an ardour and vigour which it is impossible to describe. At about seven o’clock total darkness had come on, but the whole hemisphere was, with intervals, illuminated by the fire of the hostile Fleets. Our Ships, when darkness came on, had all hoisted their distinguishing lights, by a signal from the Admiral. The Van ship of the Enemy, Le Guerrier, was dismasted in less than twelve minutes, and, in ten minutes after, the second ship, Le Conquérant, and the third, Le Spartiate, very nearly at the same moment were almost dismasted. L’Aquilon and Le Peuple Souverain, the fourth and fifth Ships of the Enemy’s line, were taken possession of by the British at half-past eight in the evening. Captain Berry, at that hour, sent Lieutenant Galwey, of the Vanguard, with a party of marines, to take possession of Le Spartiate, and that officer returned by the boat, the French Captain’s sword, which Captain Berry immediately delivered to the Admiral, who was then below, in consequence of the severe wound which he had received in the head during the heat of the attack. At this time it appeared that victory had already declared itself in our favour, for, although L’Orient, L’Heureux, and Tonnant were not taken possession of, they were considered as completely in our power, which pleasing intelligence Captain Berry had likewise the satisfaction of communicating in person to the Admiral. At ten minutes after ten, a fire was observed on board L’Orient, the French Admiral’s Ship, which seemed to proceed from the after part of the cabin, and which increased with great rapidity, presently involving the whole of the after part of the Ship in flames. This circumstance Captain Berry immediately communicated to the Admiral, who, though suffering severely from his wound, came up upon deck, where the first consideration that struck his mind was concern for the danger of so many lives, to save as many as possible of whom he ordered Captain Berry to make every practicable exertion. A boat, the only one that could swim, was instantly dispatched from the Vanguard, and other Ships that were in a condition to do so, immediately followed the example; by which means, from the best possible information, the lives of about seventy Frenchmen were saved.30 The light thrown by the fire of L’Orient upon the surrounding objects, enabled us to perceive with more certainty the situation of the two Fleets, the colours of both being clearly distinguishable. The cannonading was partially kept up to leeward of the Centre till about ten o’clock, when L’Orient blew up with a most tremendous explosion. An awful pause and death-like silence for about three minutes ensued, when the wreck of the masts, yards, etc., which had been carried to a vast height, fell down into the water, and on board the surrounding Ships. A port fire from L’Orient fell into the main royal of the Alexander, the fire occasioned by which was, however, extinguished in about two minutes, by the active exertions of Captain Ball.
“After this awful scene, the firing was recommenced with the Ships to leeward of the Centre, till twenty minutes past ten, when there was a total cessation of firing for about ten minutes; after which it was revived till about three in the morning, when it again ceased. After the victory had been secured in the Van, such British ships as were in a condition to move, had gone down upon the fresh Ships of the Enemy, which occasioned these renewals of the fight, all of which terminated with the same happy success in favour of our Flag. At five minutes past five in the morning, the two Rear ships of the Enemy, Le Guillaume Tell and Le Généreux, were the only French ships of the Line that had their colours flying. At fifty-four minutes past five, a French frigate, L’Artemise, fired a broadside and struck her colours; but such was the unwarrantable and infamous conduct of the French Captain, that after having thus surrendered, he set fire to his Ship, and with part of his crew, made his escape on shore. Another of the French frigates, La Sérieuse, had been sunk by the fire from some of our Ships; but as her poop remained above water, her men were saved upon it, and were taken off by our boats in the morning. The Bellerophon, whose masts and cables had been entirely shot away, could not retain her situation abreast of L’Orient, but had drifted out of the line to the lee side of the Bay, a little before that Ship blew up. The Audacious was in the morning detached to her assistance. At eleven o’clock, Le Généreux and Guillaume Tell, with the two frigates, La Justice and La Diane, cut their cables and stood out to sea, pursued by the Zealous, Captain Hood, who, as the Admiral himself has stated, handsomely endeavoured to prevent their escape; but as there was no other Ship in a condition to support the Zealous, she was recalled. The whole day of the 2nd was employed in securing the French ships that had struck, and which were now all completely in our possession, Le Tonnant and Timoleon excepted; as these were both dismasted, and consequently could not escape, they were naturally the last of which we thought of taking possession. On the morning of the third, the Timoleon was set fire to, and Le Tonnant had cut her cable and drifted on shore, but that active officer, Captain Miller, of the Theseus, soon got her off again, and secured her in the British line.”
It was a decisive victory, the only kind of victory that appealed to Nelson, who styled it a “conquest.” Of the thirteen French battleships, nine were taken, one was blown up, one was burnt, and two escaped; one frigate sank, another was destroyed by fire, and two got away. Napoleon had been deprived of his only means of communication with France. Thus the sea swallowed his triumphs. From a political point of view the battle of the Nile paved the way for the formation of the Second Coalition against France, in which six Powers took part, namely, England, Russia, Austria, Turkey, Naples, and Portugal.
Nelson received his wound by being struck in the forehead by a piece of iron. The skin was torn so badly that it hung over his face, the blood streaming down with such profusion that he was afraid his left eye had gone like the right. “I am killed”; he cried to Captain Berry, “remember me to my wife.” But the Admiral had been “killed” in battle before, and the intense pain of the wound sufficiently justified the exclamation. He was carried to the cockpit, the cut bound up, and strict quiet enjoined. This was easier said than done with a patient such as Nelson. His abnormal mentality speedily gained ascendancy over his physical infirmities. He soon declared that he felt better, and shortly afterwards had so far recovered as to begin a dictated despatch to the Admiralty. On the Captain informing him that L’Orient was ablaze he insisted on clambering to the deck, as we have seen. Berry gave him his arm, and together they witnessed the disaster. Nelson was certainly more fortunate than Brueys, who was shot almost in two.
On the 2nd August the Admiral returned Public Thanksgiving on the Vanguard, an example he desired to be followed on every ship “as soon as convenient.” He also took the opportunity to thank the men of the squadron for the part they had played in the late action: “It must strike forcibly every British Seaman, how superior their conduct is, when in discipline and good order, to the riotous behaviour of lawless Frenchmen.”
In those days precedent was a fetish. To depart from what had previously obtained was not to be thought of, much less suggested. For this reason Nelson was created a Baron, the lowest rank in the peerage, but the highest that had been conferred “on an officer of your standing,” as he was informed. In addition he was voted a pension of £2000 a year, which was also to be paid to his two next heirs.
Mention of the “great and brilliant Victory” was made in the King’s Speech at the opening of Parliament, its organiser received the thanks of both Houses, as well as of the Parliament of Ireland, and many foreign potentates and British Corporations paid him honour. Among the numerous presents he received were two boxes set with diamonds, a superb diamond aigrette, a gold-headed cane, pieces of valuable plate, and a coffin. The latter, made of wood and iron from the ill-fated L’Orient, was sent to him by Captain Hallowell. By a strange coincidence Thanksgiving services were held in the churches of the United Kingdom on the 21st October, a date ever associated with Nelson, because of Trafalgar. It may be thought that there was unnecessary delay, but it must be remembered that the wonders of telegraphy were then undreamed of. News of the victory was not received in London until the fifty-seventh day after the event. “God be praised,” writes the Earl of St Vincent, “and you and your gallant band rewarded by a grateful Country, for the greatest Achievement the history of the world can produce.” Perhaps this noble sentiment from the Commander-in-chief was valued above the insignificant rewards of the Government.
To “Fighting” Berry Nelson entrusted the charge of his despatches for the Admiral, for which purpose he was given the Leander (50). With grim irony Fate played a trick entirely unworthy so gallant an officer. On the 18th August, off Gozo, near Candia, the Généreux, which it will be remembered escaped from Nelson’s vengeance at the Nile, appeared on the horizon. The frigate attempted to show “a clean pair of heels,” but recognising that the enemy was gaining in the race, sail was shortened and the decks cleared for action. The brave defenders of the Leander resisted manfully for over six hours until the mastless, rudderless hulk could be fought no longer. Berry, who was wounded, together with the officers and crew were landed at Corfu and thence sent to Trieste, where the officers were released on parole, and the crew kept prisoners. On being exchanged, the captain received the honour of knighthood, a reward richly deserved and valiantly won. Berry got even with the French after all, for in 1799 he turned the tables on the victors by capturing the Généreux with Nelson’s flagship, the Foudroyant.
Captain Sir James Saumarez, with twelve ships of the squadron, was directed to convoy the best of the prizes to Gibraltar, the remainder, being valueless, were set on fire. Hood was called upon to blockade Alexandria, and two of the battleships were sent to Naples for very necessary repairs. To this port the Vanguard laboriously followed. Nelson was “taken with a fever, which has very near done my business: for eighteen hours, my life was thought to be past hope; I am now up, but very weak both in body and mind, from my cough and this fever.” This was on the 20th September, two days before “the wreck of Vanguard arrived in the Bay of Naples.” The occasion was one of great rejoicing on the part of the Sicilian Court. Miss Knight, the daughter of Rear-Admiral Sir Joseph Knight, who was present, thus records the events of the 22nd inst.:
“In the evening, went out with Sir William and Lady Hamilton, music, &c., to meet Admiral Nelson, who in the Vanguard, with the Thalia Frigate (Captain Newhouse) was seen coming in. We went on board, about a league out at sea, and sailed in with him: soon after us, the King came on board, and staid till the anchor was dropped. He embraced the Admiral with the greatest warmth, and said he wished he could have been in the engagement,31 and served under his orders; and that he likewise wished he could have been in England, when the news of the victory arrived there. He went down to see the Ship, and was delighted to perceive the care taken of a wounded man, who had two to serve him, and one reading to him. He asked to see the hat which saved the Admiral’s life, when he was wounded in the head with a splinter. The Queen was taken with a fit of the ague when she was coming on board with the Princesses. Commodore Caraccioli came soon after the King, and many of the Neapolitan nobility, bands of music, &c. It happened to be the anniversary of our King’s coronation. The Admiral came on shore with us, and said, it was the first time he had been out of his Ship for six months, except once on board Lord St Vincent.32 The Russian Ambassador and all the Legation came out to meet him. When we landed at the Health Office, the applauses and the crowd of people were beyond description. Admiral Nelson is little, and not remarkable in his person either way; but he has great animation of countenance, and activity in his appearance: his manners are unaffectedly simple and modest. He lodges at Sir William Hamilton’s, who has given him the upper apartment. The whole City is mad with joy.”
There was indeed every reason for this jubilation. A starless night seemed about to give place to a golden dawn. Towards the end of 1796 Napoleon’s astounding successes had obliged Ferdinand, King of the Two Sicilies, to agree to terms of peace, especially as the English had decided to evacuate the Mediterranean.33 The situation became more and more ominous. Consequently when Queen Maria Carolina, Ferdinand’s energetic consort, heard that the King of Spain was about to ally himself to the hated Republic, she speedily informed Sir William Hamilton, the English Ambassador.34 She realised that the hope of the kingdom depended not in half-measures of friendship towards England, but in securing her definite assistance and casting off the French yoke. Hamilton in his turn warned his Government of the proposed arrangement, which seemed likely to have far-reaching consequences and to threaten England in the Mediterranean. Her Majesty also kept up a secret correspondence with London. She was therefore particularly relieved when information arrived that the protection of the Two Sicilies against potential French despoilers was to be entrusted to the Hero of the Nile.
CHAPTER X
The Neapolitan Court and Lady Hamilton
“‘Down, down with the French!’ is my constant prayer.”
Nelson.
Truth has no secrets. It is the duty of the historian to reveal all and to hide nothing. The archæologist with pick and spade unearths a buried city, disclosing alike the mansions of the wealthy and the hovels of the poor. In describing the result of his researches the investigator would betray his science were he merely to mention the beauties of the king’s palace, the tesselated pavements, the marble columns. The hideous back street must also tell its drab story, for aristocrat and plebeian are alike members of the Commonwealth.
The pen is the scalpel of history. It must neither condone nor palliate, although justice may be tempered with mercy.
Temptation came to Nelson at Naples, and he fell. Physically frail, he proved morally frail as well, but we must not unhesitatingly condemn him. Vanity caused him to stumble, and before he had time to realise the consequences a woman had sullied his reputation and tarnished his glory. Probably no reputable biographer of the great Admiral has penned the chapter dealing with this phase of his life without a wish that he could be excused from the necessity of doing so.
No sooner do we begin to investigate the relations between Nelson and Lady Hamilton than we are in a maze of perplexities. He was ill and she nursed him, he was victorious and she praised him, she was beautiful and he admired loveliness, she had a warm heart and he was susceptible, his wife was reserved and his “friend” was vivacious. The spider and the fly have their counterpart in real life. Once in the entangled meshes of the web Nelson never found his way out, even supposing he had wished to do so, which his passionate letters do not for a moment suggest.
When the Vanguard hove in sight off Naples, King Ferdinand, Sir William Hamilton, Lady Hamilton, and others went to meet “our liberator.” In writing to Earl Spencer, Nelson says, “You will not, my Lord, I trust, think that one spark of vanity induces me to mention the most distinguished reception that ever, I believe, fell to the lot of a human being, but that it is a measure of justice due to his Sicilian Majesty and the Nation. If God knows my heart, it is amongst the most humble of the creation, full of thankfulness and gratitude!” No one doubts the latter portion of the remark. Nelson always exhibited a lively trust in an All-wise Providence. The “one spark of vanity” was self-deception, although perhaps “pride” would be more correct than “vanity,” for the vain man usually distrusts his own opinion in setting great store by himself and wishes it to be confirmed by others. The Admiral was nothing if not self-reliant. Those who have read his voluminous correspondence and the memoirs of those with whom he came in contact cannot be blind to the fault of which he was seemingly in ignorance.
For instance, the writer of the “Croker Papers” furnishes us with the following particulars of the one and only occasion on which Nelson and Wellington had conversation. The latter noted the Admiral’s weak point at once:
“We were talking of Lord Nelson, and some instances were mentioned of the egotism and vanity that derogated from his character. ‘Why,’ said the Duke, ‘I am not surprised at such instances, for Lord Nelson was, in different circumstances, two quite different men, as I myself can vouch, though I only saw him once in my life, and for, perhaps, an hour. It was soon after I returned from India.35 I went to the Colonial Office in Downing Street, and there I was shown into the little waiting-room on the right hand, where I found, also waiting to see the Secretary of State, a gentleman, whom from his likeness to his pictures and the loss of an arm, I immediately recognised as Lord Nelson. He could not know who I was, but he entered at once into conversation with me, if I can call it conversation, for it was almost all on his side and all about himself, and in, really, a style so vain and so silly as to surprise and almost disgust me. I suppose something that I happened to say may have made him guess that I was somebody, and he went out of the room for a moment, I have no doubt to ask the office-keeper who I was, for when he came back he was altogether a different man, both in manner and matter. All that I had thought a charlatan style had vanished, and he talked of the state of this country and of the aspect and probabilities of affairs on the Continent with a good sense, and a knowledge of subjects both at home and abroad, that surprised me equally and more agreeably than the first part of our interview had done; in fact, he talked like an officer and a statesman. The Secretary of State kept us long waiting, and certainly, for the last half or three-quarters of an hour, I don’t know that I ever had a conversation that interested me more. Now, if the Secretary of State had been punctual, and admitted Lord Nelson in the first quarter of an hour, I should have had the same impression of a light and trivial character that other people have had, but luckily I saw enough to be satisfied that he was really a very superior man; but certainly a more sudden and complete metamorphosis I never saw.’”
To sum up the whole matter. Pride, or vanity if you prefer it, laid Nelson open to the great temptation of his life, and it assailed him at a time when he was ill and suffering. He was by nature sympathetic and grateful, and could not fail to be impressed by the ministrations of Lady Hamilton during his sickness, any less than by her flattery—a hero-worship which may, or may not, have been sincere on her part.
Josceline Percy, who was on the Victory in the trying times of 1803, has some sage remarks to offer in this matter. Though the Christian faith “did not keep him from the fatal error of his life,” Percy says, “it ought to be remembered that few were so strongly tempted, and I believe it may safely be affirmed that had Nelson’s home been made to him, what a wife of good temper and judgment would have rendered it, never would he have forsaken it.”
The candid friend, though seldom loved, is oftentimes the best friend. Nelson was warned of his mad infatuation for Lady Hamilton by more than one person who desired to save him from himself, but the fatal spell which she exerted upon him held him beyond reclamation.
On meeting the Admiral Lady Hamilton fainted away, and we find the hero writing to his wife that “she is one of the very best women in this world; she is an honour to her sex. Her kindness, with Sir William’s, to me, is more than I can express: I am in their house, and I may now tell you, it required all the kindness of my friends to set me up.” A week or so later, he says, “The continued kind attention of Sir William and Lady Hamilton must ever make you and I love them, and they are deserving the love and admiration of all the world.”
We must now return to the scene of the tragedy. Italy was in a turmoil. Berthier had appeared before Rome, the aged Pontiff had been dragged from his palace and sent into Tuscany, a Republic set up, and an offensive and defensive alliance entered into with Revolutionary France. By his placing the citadel of Turin in the hands of the all-conquering nation for “security” the King of Sardinia became a mere State-prisoner. These events in the North naturally caused trepidation in the kingdom of Naples, and Ferdinand wisely secured the assistance of Austria. The news of the French defeat at the Nile, more especially the presence of the victor, caused the war party—of which Queen Maria Carolina and Lady Hamilton were the leaders—to forget that mere enthusiasm, although a valuable asset, was not the sole requisite in a campaign, especially when the enemy to be met was one so formidable as the victorious French. Naples was for up and doing, regardless of the consequences. She sowed the storm and reaped the whirlwind by reason of her undue haste in taking up arms before everything was ready for the conflict. There is perhaps some excuse for her Majesty’s eagerness. Sister of the ill-fated Marie Antoinette, who had perished on the scaffold, and “truly a daughter of Maria Theresa,”36 as Nelson averred, she wished to be avenged. Lady Hamilton on her part had become the confidential friend of Her Majesty and had rendered certain services to the Neapolitan and English Courts which she afterwards grossly exaggerated in an endeavour to secure a competence for herself. Nelson is not undeserving of censure for having forced the issue. He quoted Chatham’s dictum, “The boldest measures are the safest,” to Lady Hamilton, and told her that should “this miserable ruinous system of procrastination be persisted in, I would recommend that all your property and persons are ready to embark at a very short notice.”
Nelson’s instructions were to provide for the safety of the Sicilian kingdom, “the cutting off all communication between France and Egypt,” and “the co-operating with the Turkish and Russian Squadrons which are to be sent into the Archipelago.” In addition he was to blockade Malta. He delegated the last duty to Captain Ball, who, with four ships, was to cruise off the island in company with a Portuguese squadron under the Marquis de Niza. Of General Mack, who commanded the Neapolitan army, Nelson at first entertained a favourable opinion. With delightful naïveté he informed St Vincent, “I have endeavoured to impress the General with a favourable impression of me, and I think have succeeded. He is active and has an intelligent eye, and will do well, I have no doubt.” But something more than these estimable qualities was necessary, as the total failure of the campaign was to prove.
Mack was then forty-six years of age, and had served under Field-Marshal Loudon, the most formidable soldier against whom Frederick the Great had fought. He was not a brilliant soldier, although he had acquitted himself with honour in the campaign of 1793. The son of a minor official, Mack had found it difficult to obtain promotion in a service dominated by the aristocracy, and he was certainly unpopular, which was not to his advantage in the field. He had accepted his present service in an army which he called “the finest in Europe,” but which was scarcely more than a rabble, at the request of the Empress. Nelson, in a burst of enthusiasm, referred to it as “composed of 30,000 healthy good-looking troops,” and “as far as my judgment goes in those matters, I agree, that a finer Army cannot be.” The optimistic told themselves that Nelson had banished Napoleon and the finest warriors of France, which was correct, and prophesied that the scattered Republican army in Italy would be as completely overwhelmed as was the French fleet in Aboukir Bay. In this they were grievously mistaken. Instead of concentrating his forces and striking a decisive blow, the Austrian commander saw fit to divide them, with the result that although the Eternal City was occupied and Tuscany entered, the French succeeded in defeating three of the five columns. After a series of reverses, Mack retreated, Ferdinand fled, and Rome was retaken.
