(1805)
It had been part of Nelson's prayer, that the British fleet might be
distinguished by humanity in the victory which he expected. Setting an
example himself, he twice gave orders to cease firing on the
_Redoubtable_, supposing that she had struck, because her guns were
silent; for, as she carried no flag, there was no means of instantly
ascertaining the fact. From this ship, which he had thus twice spared,
he received his death. A ball fired from her mizzen-top, which, in the
then situation of the two vessels, was not more than fifteen yards
from that part of the deck where he was standing, struck the epaulet
on his left shoulder, about a quarter after one, just in the heat of
action. He fell upon his face, on the spot which was covered with his
poor secretary's blood. Hardy,[19] who was a few steps from him,
turning round, saw three men raising him up. "They have done for me
at last, Hardy," said he. "I hope not," cried Hardy. "Yes," he
replied; "my backbone is shot through." Yet even now, not for a moment
losing his presence of mind, he observed, as they were carrying him
down the ladder, that the tiller ropes, which had been shot away, were
not yet replaced, and ordered that new ones should be rove
immediately: then, that he might not be seen by the crew, he took out
his handkerchief, and covered his face and his stars. Had he but
concealed these badges of honor from the enemy, England perhaps would
not have had cause to receive with sorrow the news of the battle of
Trafalgar. The cockpit was crowded with wounded and dying men; over
whose bodies he was with some difficulty conveyed, and laid upon a
pallet in the midshipmen's berth. It was soon perceived, upon
examination, that the wound was mortal. This, however, was concealed
from all except Captain Hardy, the chaplain, and the medical
attendants. He himself being certain, from the sensation in his back,
and the gush of blood he felt momentarily within his breast, that no
human care could avail him, insisted that the surgeon should leave
him, and attend to those to whom he might be useful; "for," said he,
"you can do nothing for me."
All that could be done was to fan him with paper, and frequently to
give him lemonade to alleviate his intense thirst. He was in great
pain, and exprest much anxiety, for the event of the action, which now
began to declare itself. As often as a ship struck, the crew of the
_Victory_ hurrahed; and at every hurrah a visible expression of joy
gleamed in the eyes, and marked the countenance of the dying hero. But
he became impatient to see Hardy; and as that officer, tho often sent
for, could not leave the deck, Nelson feared that some fatal cause
prevented him, and repeatedly cried: "Will no one bring Hardy to me?
he must be killed; he is surely dead!" An hour and ten minutes elapsed
from the time when Nelson received his wound before Hardy could come
to him. They shook hands in silence: Hardy in vain struggling to
suppress the feelings of that most painful and yet sublimest moment.
"Well, Hardy," said Nelson, "how goes the day with us?" "Very well,"
replied Hardy; "ten ships have struck, but five of the van have
tacked, and show an intention to bear down upon the _Victory_. I have
called two or three of our fresh ships round, and have no doubt of
giving them a drubbing." "I hope," said Nelson, "none of our ships
have struck?" Hardy answered, "There was no fear of that." Then, and
not till then, Nelson spoke of himself. "I am a dead man, Hardy," said
he; "I am going fast: it will be all over with me soon. Come nearer to
me. Let my dear Lady Hamilton have my hair, and all other things
belonging to me." Hardy observed, that he hoped Mr. Beatty could yet
hold out some prospect of life. "O no," he replied; "it is impossible.
My back is shot through. Beatty will tell you so." Hardy then, once
more, shook hands with him, and with a heart almost bursting, hastened
upon deck.
By this time all feeling below the breast was gone; and Nelson, having
made the surgeon ascertain this, said to him: "You know I am gone. I
know it. I feel something rising in my breast," putting his hand on
his left side, "which tells me so." And upon Beatty's inquiring
whether his pain was very great, he replied, "So great that he wished
he was dead. Yet," said he, in a lower voice, "one would like to live
a little longer too!" And after a few minutes, in the same undertone,
he added: "What would become of poor Lady Hamilton, if she knew my
situation!" Next to his country she occupied his thoughts. Captain
Hardy, some fifty minutes after he had left the cockpit, returned;
and, again taking the hand of his dying friend and commander,
congratulated him on having gained a complete victory. How many of the
enemy were taken he did not know, as it was impossible to perceive
them distinctly; but fourteen or fifteen at least. "That's well,"
cried Nelson; "but I bargained for twenty." And then, in a stronger
voice, he said: "Anchor, Hardy; anchor." Hardy, upon this, hinted that
Admiral Collingwood would take upon himself the direction of affairs.
"Not while I live, Hardy," said the dying Nelson, ineffectually
endeavoring to raise himself from the bed: "do you anchor." His
previous orders for preparing to anchor had shown clearly he foresaw
the necessity of this. Presently, calling Hardy back, he said to him,
in a low voice, "Don't throw me overboard"; and he desired that he
might be buried by his parents, unless it should please the King to
order otherwise. Then reverting to private feelings: "Take care of my
dear Lady Hamilton, Hardy: take care of poor Lady Hamilton. Kiss me,
Hardy," said he. Hardy knelt down and kissed his cheek; and Nelson
said, "Now I am satisfied. Thank God, I have done my duty!" Hardy
stood over him in silence for a moment or two, then knelt again and
kissed his forehead. "Who is that?" said Nelson; and being informed,
he replied, "God bless you, Hardy." And Hardy then left him--forever.
Nelson now desired to be turned upon his right side, and said, "I wish
I had not left the deck; for I shall soon be gone." Death was, indeed,
rapidly approaching. He said to the chaplain, "Doctor, I have _not_
been a _great_ sinner"; and after a short pause, "Remember that I
leave Lady Hamilton and my daughter Horatia as a legacy to my
country." His articulation now became difficult; but he was distinctly
heard to say, "Thank God, I have done my duty!" These words he
repeatedly pronounced; and they were the last words which he uttered.
He expired at thirty minutes after four--three hours and a quarter
after he had received his wound.
The death of Nelson was felt in England as something more than a
public calamity: men started at the intelligence, and turned pale, as
if they had heard of the loss of a dear friend. An object of our
admiration and affection, of our pride and of our hopes, was suddenly
taken from us; and it seemed as if we had never till then known how
deeply we loved and reverenced him. What the country had lost in its
great naval hero--the greatest of our own and of all former times--was
scarcely taken into the account of grief. So perfectly, indeed, had he
performed his part, that the maritime war, after the battle of
Trafalgar, was considered at an end. The fleets of the enemy were not
merely defeated, but destroyed; new navies must be built, and a new
race of seamen reared for them, before the possibility of their
invading our shores could again be contemplated. It was not,
therefore, from any selfish reflection upon the magnitude of our loss
that we mourned for him: the general sorrow was of a higher character.
The people of England grieved that funeral ceremonies, and public
monuments, and posthumous rewards, were all which they could now
bestow upon him whom the King, the legislature, and the nation would
have alike delighted to honor; whom every tongue would have blest;
whose presence in every village through which he might have passed
would have wakened the church-bells, have given schoolboys a holiday,
have drawn children from their sports to gaze upon him, and "old men
from the chimney-corner" to look upon Nelson ere they died. The
victory of Trafalgar was celebrated, indeed, with the usual forms of
rejoicing, but they were without joy; for such already was the glory
of the British navy, through Nelson's surpassing genius, that it
scarcely seemed to receive any addition from the most signal victory
that ever was achieved upon the seas; and the destruction of this
mighty fleet, by which all the maritime schemes of France were totally
frustrated, hardly appeared to add to our security or strength; for,
while Nelson was living to watch the combined squadrons of the enemy,
we felt ourselves as secure as now, when they were no longer in
existence.
There was reason to suppose, from the appearances upon opening his
body, that in the course of nature he might have attained, like his
father, to a good old age. Yet he can not be said to have fallen
prematurely whose work was done; nor ought he to be lamented, who died
so full of honors, and at the height of human fame. The most
triumphant death is that of the martyr; the most awful, that of the
martyred patriot; the most splendid, that of the hero in the hour of
victory; and if the chariot and the horses of fire had been vouchsafed
for Nelson's translation, he could scarcely have departed in a
brighter blaze of glory. He has left us, not indeed his mantle of
inspiration, but a name and an example which are at this hour
inspiring thousands of the youth of England--a name which is our pride
and an example which will continue to be our shield and our strength.
Thus it is that the spirits of the great and the wise continue to live
and to act after them.