The Beginning of the Great War
(1793-1794)
“_Duty is the great business of a sea officer_”
NELSON.
So far back as 1753 Lord Chesterfield prophesied a revolution in
France. “All the symptoms,” he said, “which I have ever met with in
history, previous to great changes and revolutions in government, now
exist and daily increase in France.” Warning rumbles heralded the
storm, disregarded and thought of no account by some, full of grave
portent to others. It burst in 1789.
At first William Pitt, First Lord of the Treasury and Chancellor of
the Exchequer, steadily refused to believe that England was menaced by
the Power which Fox had termed “the natural enemy of Great Britain.”
In January 1792 he assured Parliament that “unquestionably there never
was a time in the history of this country when, from the situation
of Europe, we might more reasonably expect fifteen years of peace
than we may at the present moment.” Either he was over anxious to
persuade himself that things were as he would like them to be, or he
was sadly mistaken. Pitt had by no means the pugnacious disposition
of his father, the famous first Earl of Chatham. He thought that
the fire would burn itself out, that it would be of short duration,
whereas it steadily gained strength and eventually involved practically
every country in Europe. Not until he was convinced that war was
inevitable did the youngest Premier who ever handled the reins of a
British government accept the French Revolution as of more than local
consequence. Hitherto domestic and financial questions had occupied his
attention and absorbed his energies. If France ignored the nation which
he represented, if she refrained from poaching on British preserves or
those of her allies, he was quite content to return the compliment.
Then came the decree that the navigation of the river Scheldt should
be thrown open. It had previously been guaranteed to the Dutch by
Great Britain as well as by other Powers, including France. The
execution of Louis XVI. followed, which led to Chauvelin, the French
Ambassador, being given his passports. If Pitt had been slumbering he
had wooed somnolence with one eye open since the annexation of Savoy.
He was now fully awake, calm and self-reliant, for he recognised the
inevitable. It came in a declaration of war by the French Convention
against Holland and Great Britain on the 1st February 1793. Macaulay,
writing from an essentially Whig point of view, states that Pitt’s
military administration “was that of a driveller,” but to the impartial
historian nothing is further from the truth. He abandoned his schemes
of social reform to plunge whole-heartedly into the titanic struggle
which was to cost him his life. That he made mistakes is obvious--what
statesman has not?--but he fell in his country’s cause as nobly as
Nelson at Trafalgar and Moore at Coruña.
When Nelson joined the _Agamemnon_ he was immensely pleased with
her. He describes the vessel as “without exception, the finest 64 in
the service, and has the character of sailing most remarkably well.”
She was a unit of the fleet under Lord Hood, her destination the
Mediterranean. The captain was accompanied by his step-son, Josiah,
whose first experience of life at sea cannot have been pleasant. Off
the Nore the _Agamemnon_ encountered a gale, with the result that
Josiah was “a little sea-sick.” However, “he is a real good boy, and
most affectionately loves me,” as his mother was informed. Off Cadiz
Nelson is able to report, “My Ship is remarkably healthy; myself and
Josiah never better.”
While part of the fleet was watering at Cadiz, Nelson dined on
board the _Concepcion_ (112), a huge Spanish sail-of-the-line. The
experience afforded him food for thought as well as for physical
sustenance. He relates the incident to his wife, criticises the four
Spanish first-rates in commission at the port as “very fine Ships,
but shockingly manned,” and adds that if the crews of the six barges
attached to the British vessels had boarded one of these great vessels
they could have taken her: “The Dons may make fine Ships,--they cannot,
however, make men.” This summing-up of the _morale_ of the Spanish
Navy is particularly valuable. A dozen years later, when Napoleon was
planning his wonderful combinations to elude the prowess of Nelson,
the lack of skill displayed by the Spaniards was a constant source of
annoyance both to the Emperor and his naval officers. Their bravery
in action during the Trafalgar Campaign is not questioned; their
happy-go-lucky code of discipline is on record in documentary evidence.
A bull fight which Nelson saw sickened and disgusted him. “We had what
is called a fine feast, for five horses were killed, and two men very
much hurt: had they been killed, it would have been quite complete.”
The royalists at Toulon had not only openly rebelled against the
National Convention, but had requested the assistance of the British
fleet, then blockading the harbour of the great southern arsenal, under
Hood, who was shortly afterwards joined by Langara in command of a
number of Spanish vessels. Nelson’s _Agamemnon_ was a fast sailer. He
was therefore sent to Naples with despatches to the courts of Turin and
Naples requesting 10,000 troops for the assault of Toulon. The ardent
young officer, proud of the service which had been delegated to him,
was a little too sanguine as to Hood’s triumph, yet his cheery optimism
is tinged with cynicism when he writes to his wife: “I believe the
world is convinced that no conquests of importance can be made without
us; and yet, as soon as we have accomplished the service we are ordered
on, we are neglected. If Parliament does not grant something to this
Fleet, our Jacks will grumble; for here there is no prize-money to
soften their hardships: all we get is honour and salt beef. My poor
fellows have not had a morsel of fresh meat or vegetables for near
nineteen weeks; and in that time I have only had my foot twice on shore
at Cadiz. We are absolutely getting sick from fatigue. No Fleet, I am
certain, ever served their Country with greater zeal than this has
done, from the Admiral to the lowest sailor.”
At Naples Nelson was received by the King “in the handsomest manner,”
and a promise of troops was exacted without delay. He also made the
acquaintance of Lady Hamilton, wife of the British Minister, but the
romantic attachment between them did not begin until several years
later. His Majesty was on the point of visiting the _Agamemnon_ when
the Captain received intelligence from the Prime Minister--Sir John
Acton, an English baronet--that a French sail-of-the-line convoying
three vessels had anchored under Sardinia. Nelson acknowledges to his
brother, on the 27th September 1793, that “Fortune has not crowned my
endeavours with success. The French have either got into Leghorn, or
are housed in some port of Corsica.... I purpose staying three days
in Port, when I shall get to Toulon, for I cannot bear the thought of
being absent from the scene of action.” His unsuccessful search for
the enemy had precluded him from accompanying such Neapolitan troops
as were ready to be sent to the scene of conflict. In addition a large
French frigate had put into the neutral port of Leghorn, which gave
him further anxiety. As her commander did not think it wise to attempt
an issue with the _Agamemnon_ Nelson left him to his own devices. He
anchored off Toulon, on the 5th October, to find Lord Hood “very much
pleased” with him. This must have been particularly gratifying after so
luckless a voyage, but what he most desired was action.
Within a few days of his arrival he received sealed orders from
the Admiral directing him to join Commodore Linzee off Cagliari,
the capital of Sardinia. His longing to get at the enemy was to be
satisfied in an unexpected manner. When he was nearing the island just
before dawn on the morning of the 22nd October, five strange sail made
their appearance. Later they resolved themselves into four of the
enemy’s frigates and a brig. After an engagement which lasted nearly
four hours and was ably contested on both sides, the action terminated
in the French _Melpomène_ being reduced to “a shattered condition,”
and the _Agamemnon_ having her “topmast shot to pieces, main-mast,
mizen-mast, and fore-yard badly wounded”--the last expression is
typically Nelsonian. The Frenchmen did not attempt to renew the fight;
Nelson was prevented from doing so because “The _Agamemnon_ was so cut
to pieces, as to be unable to haul the wind towards them.” The enemy’s
squadron made for Corsica, Nelson for Cagliari, according to orders,
with one man killed and six wounded.
When Nelson joined hands with Linzee he found that the immediate
business in hand was to endeavour to bring the Bey of Tunis to reason,
in other words, to the British side. The Bey was an exceedingly crafty
individual who, believing that the best time for making hay is when
the sun shines, had sided with the French because he saw an immediate
financial return. Another object was to secure a convoy which had put
in at Tunis under a sail-of-the-line, the _Duquesne_ (84) and four
frigates, the force with which Nelson had already dealt. As the Bey had
purchased the cargoes of the merchantmen at a handsome profit, he was
not disposed to change his policy. Nelson hated pacific overtures; he
was all for contest on the open sea. “Thank God,” he is able to write
to William Suckling, his uncle, on the 5th December 1793, “Lord Hood,
whom Linzee sent to for orders how to act, after having negotiated,
ordered me from under his command, and to command a Squadron of
Frigates off Corsica and the Coast of Italy, to protect our trade, and
that of our new Ally, the Grand Duke of Tuscany, and to prevent any
Ship or Vessel, of whatever Nation, from going into the port of Genoa.
I consider this command as a very high compliment,--there being five
older Captains in the Fleet....
“Corsica, December 8th:--I have been in sight of the French Squadron
all day, at anchor; they cannot be induced to come out, notwithstanding
their great superiority....”
On the 19th of the same month Lord Hood vacated Toulon.[12] The
troops of the National Convention, aided by the consummate skill
of Napoleon Bonaparte, a young officer then beginning his amazing
career, had proved too powerful for the British, Spanish, Piedmontese
and Neapolitan forces. The British fleet carried away no fewer than
14,000 fugitives from the doomed city, which for hours afterwards was
given up to pillage. “Everything which domestic Wars produce usually,
is multiplied at Toulon,” Nelson writes to his wife. “Fathers are
here [_i.e._ Leghorn] without their families, families without their
fathers. In short, all is horror.... Lord Hood put himself at the head
of the flying troops, and the admiration of every one; but the torrent
was too strong. Many of our posts were carried without resistance;
at others, which the English occupied, every one perished. I cannot
write all: my mind is deeply impressed with grief. Each teller makes
the scene more horrible. Lord Hood showed himself the same collected
good Officer which he always was.” The siege of Toulon was a qualified
success. The place was lost, but a dozen French ships and the naval
stores were set on fire, and four sail-of-the-line, three frigates,
and several smaller vessels were secured as prizes. To cripple the
French navy was the most desired of all objects.
Meanwhile Nelson’s division was blockading Corsica, which had passed
from the Republic of Genoa into the hands of the French in 1768, to
the disgust of the patriotic party headed by Pascal Paoli. It was
arranged that Hood should assist the latter to rid the island of the
hated “tyrants,” and that in due course it should be ceded to Great
Britain. In the preliminary negotiations Nelson was represented by
Lieutenant George Andrews, brother of the young lady to whom Nelson
had become attached during his visit to France in 1783;[13] the final
arrangements were made by a commission of which the gallant Sir John
Moore was a member. Hood joined Nelson on the 27th January 1794, and
on the following day the fleet encountered “the hardest gale almost
ever remembered here.” The _Agamemnon_ “lost every sail in her,” her
consorts were dispersed “over the face of the waters.” This delayed the
landing of the troops Hood had brought with him, but Nelson had already
made a preliminary skirmish on his own account near San Fiorenzo,
the first object of the admiral’s attack. He landed 120 soldiers and
seamen, emptied a flour storehouse, ruined a water-mill, and returned
without the loss of a man, notwithstanding the efforts of the French
gunboats to annihilate the little force. Similar expeditions were
undertaken at the beginning of February, when four polaccas, loaded
with wine for the enemy’s fleet, were burned, four other vessels set
on fire, a similar number captured, and about 1,000 tuns of wine
demolished.
On the 7th of the same month the inhabitants of Rogliani showed
National colours, and the Tree of Liberty--the emblem of the French
Revolution--was planted. Nelson struck a flag flying on the old castle
with his own hand, and ordered the tree to be cut down. More craft and
wine were destroyed. Paoli was highly gratified by this performance,
carried out in the true Nelson spirit, and shortly afterwards the
Captain tells his wife with conscious pride, “I have had the pleasure
to fulfil the service I had been employed upon, since leaving Tunis,
neither allowing provisions nor troops to get into Corsica,”--which he
describes later as “a wonderfully fine Island”--“nor the Frigates to
come out.”
Hood now took over the command at San Fiorenzo and sent Nelson to
blockade Bastia. The latter calculated that “it would require 1000
troops, besides seamen, Corsicans, etc., to make any successful
attempt” against the place. Lieutenant-General David Dundas, the
commander of the military forces, refused his aid unless considerable
reinforcements came to hand, although he had at his disposal over
1700 regulars and artillerymen. Hood, relying on Nelson’s statements
to a certain extent, endeavoured to persuade Dundas that the task was
by no means so difficult as he imagined, but the military authority
positively refused to listen to the project. The General entered into
the arrangements for the capture of San Fiorenzo with more goodwill,
for in his opinion it was a less formidable undertaking. Without in
any way disparaging the exertions of the troops it must be admitted
that the gallant conduct of the sailors, who dragged heavy guns up the
heights in order to place them in a position to cannonade the tower of
Mortello, which commanded the situation, contributed largely to the
success of the operation. Dundas and Linzee attacked this formidable
fortification from the bay with a sail-of-the-line and a frigate on
the 8th February with ill success. Its defenders hurled hot shot at
the vessels with such precision that they were obliged to move to a
less dangerous position. The tower was bombarded from the steeps for
two days before its garrison surrendered. Meanwhile Lieutenant-Colonel
John Moore had carried the batteries of Fornelli, which led directly
to the fall of San Fiorenzo on the 17th instant. The French retreated
to Bastia, on the opposite side of the promontory, where Nelson was
exerting himself to the utmost. The British troops marched to within
three miles of the town, as noted below, and were then ordered to
return to San Fiorenzo.
On the 23rd February the _Agamemnon_ and two frigates dislodged the
French from a battery of six guns; “they to a man quitted the works.”
For Lord Hood’s encouragement he sent him word that shot and shells had
been hurled at the vessels “without doing us any damage of consequence:
our guns were so exceedingly well pointed, that not one shot was fired
in vain.... Indeed, my Lord, I wish the troops were here: Bastia, I am
sure, in its present state, would soon fall.”
In describing “our little brush” to his wife, he says it “happened at
the moment when part of our Army made their appearance on the hills
over Bastia, they having marched over land from St Fiorenzo, which is
only twelve miles distant. The General sent an express to Lord Hood
at Fiorenzo to tell him of it. What a noble sight it must have been!
indeed, on board it was the grandest thing I ever saw. If I had carried
with me five hundred troops, to a certainty I should have stormed the
Town, and I believe it might have been carried.... You cannot think how
pleased Lord Hood has been with my attack on Sunday last, or rather my
repelling of an attack which the Enemy made on me.”
Nelson’s ardent temperament, his longing to be up and doing, made him
think bitter things of Dundas. He confides to his Journal on the 3rd
March 1794 that it is his firm opinion that if the _Agamemnon_ and the
attendant frigates could batter down the sea-wall and then land 500
troops they would “to a certainty carry the place.” “God knows what
it all means,” he writes to his wife with reference to the general’s
retreat. “Lord Hood is gone to St Fiorenzo to the Army, to get them
forward again.... My seamen are now what British seamen ought to be,
to you I may say it, almost invincible: they really mind shot no more
than peas.”
The delay was simply playing into the hands of the enemy, who occupied
the time in adding to the defences of the town. One can imagine with
what glee Nelson scribbled in his Journal, under date of the 11th
March, “_Romney_ joined me from Lord Hood: brought me letters to say
that General Dundas was going Home, and that he hoped and trusted the
troops would once more move over the Hill.” The crew of the _Agamemnon_
suffered no little privation. “We are absolutely without water,
provisions, or stores of any kind, not a piece of canvas, rope, twine,
or a nail in the Ship; but we cheerfully submit to it all, if it but
turns out for the advantage and credit of our Country.”
Dundas was succeeded by General Abraham D’Aubant, an appointment
which gave the Captain of the _Agamemnon_ no satisfaction, for he
also thought it improper to attack Bastia. Not to carry to a finish a
project already begun was considered by Nelson “a National disgrace.”
Hood determined to act contrary to the opinions of his military
colleague. “I am to command the Seamen landed from the Fleet,” Nelson
tells his brother. “I feel for the honour of my Country, and had
rather be beat than not make the attack. If we do not try we never
can be successful. I own I have no fears for the final issue: it will
be conquest, certain we will deserve it.” “When was a place ever yet
taken without an attempt?” he asks Sir William Hamilton. “We must
endeavour to deserve success; it is certainly not in our power to
command it.... My dear Sir, when was before the time that 2,000 British
troops, as good as ever marched, were not thought equal to attack 800
French troops, allowing them to be in strong works? What would the
immortal Wolfe have done? as he did, beat the Enemy, if he perished in
the attempt. Our Irregulars are surely as good as the Enemy’s; and in
numbers we far exceed them. I truly feel sorrow, but I have hope and
confidence that all will end well.” Again, “We are but few, but of the
right sort: our General at San Fiorenzo not giving us one of the five
Regiments he has there lying idle.”
On the 4th April 1794 a definite start was made. Some 1400 troops
and sailors, commanded by Lieutenant-Colonel Villettes and Nelson
respectively, landed at the tower of Miomo, some three miles to the
north of the town. “At noon the Troops encamped about 2,500 yards from
the citadel of Bastia, near a high rock.” The night was employed in
felling trees for the purpose of constructing an abattis, a temporary
defence formed by placing trees with their boughs sharpened to a point
in such a position as to obstruct the enemy and at the same time afford
a certain amount of cover for the riflemen. The getting up of the
guns and ammunition “was performed with an activity and zeal seldom
exceeded.” The French began firing on the night of the 9th and kept it
up until daylight without inflicting injury on a single man, although
the tents were considerably damaged. After sending a flag of truce to
no effect, Hood began the siege in earnest on the 11th. On that day the
frigate _Proselyte_ was set on fire by the enemy’s red-hot shot, and as
her captain could not get her off the shore, he set his ship on fire in
several places and burnt her to the water’s edge so that she might not
fall into the hands of the hated Frenchmen.
“Only recollect that a brave man dies but once, a coward all his
life long,” Nelson writes to his wife at the beginning of May, when
fighting was of daily occurrence and many a brave man fell on either
side. His only fear was that D’Aubant might alter his mind and advance
with his troops “when Bastia is about to surrender, and deprive us
of part of our glory.” This is exactly what happened. On the 19th
May the troops from San Fiorenzo were seen marching over the hills.
Three days later, as the result of negotiations begun by the enemy,
the French colours were struck and the Union Jack hoisted, and on the
24th “the most glorious sight that an Englishman can experience,
and which, I believe, none but an Englishman could bring about, was
exhibited;--4,500 men laying down their arms to less than 1,000 British
soldiers, who were serving as Marines.” Nelson gives the number of
British killed at 19, wounded 37, and of the enemy 203 killed, wounded
540, “most of whom are dead.” He himself received “a sharp cut in the
back.” Not until the end of January 1795 did he confess to his wife
that he had information given to him “of the enormous number of Troops
we had to oppose us; but my own honour, Lord Hood’s honour, and the
honour of our Country, must have all been sacrificed, had I mentioned
what I knew; therefore, you will believe, what must have been my
feelings during the whole Siege, when I had often proposals made to me
by men, now rewarded, to write to Lord Hood to raise the Siege.”
Calvi, in the north-west of Corsica, was next attacked. “Dragging
cannon up steep mountains, and carrying shot and shells, has been our
constant employment”; “I am very busy, yet own I am in all my glory:
except with you, [Mrs Nelson] I would not be any where but where I am,
for the world”; “Hallowell[14] and myself take, each one, twenty-four
hours of duty at the advanced battery,” are extracts from some of
Nelson’s letters and despatches at this period. On the 12th July 1794
he modestly confesses to Hood that “I got a little hurt this morning:
not much, as you may judge by my writing,” but in his Journal he notes,
“at seven o’clock, I was much bruised in the face and eyes by sand from
the works struck by shot.” The “little hurt” proved far otherwise,
and Nelson subsequently became permanently blind in the right eye.
At the moment he attached little or no importance to the injury:
“Hallowell and myself are both well, except my being half blinded by
these fellows, who have given me a smart slap in the face, for which I
am their _debtor_, but hope not to be so long”; “My right eye is cut
entirely down; but the Surgeons flatter me I shall not entirely lose
my sight of that eye. At present I can distinguish light from dark,
but no object: it confined me one day, when, thank God, I was enabled
to attend to my duty. I feel the want of it; but, such is the chance
of War, it was within a hair’s breadth of taking off my head.” To Mrs
Nelson he tones down the news considerably: “Except a very slight
scratch towards my right eye, I have received no hurt whatever: so you
see I am not the worse for Campaigning: but I cannot say I have any
wish to go on with it. This day [4th August 1794] I have been four
months landed, except a few days when we were after the French Fleet,
and I feel almost qualified to pass my examination as a besieging
General.”
Nelson not unnaturally felt himself slighted when his name did not
appear in the list of wounded. However, he consoled himself by saying,
“Never mind, I’ll have a _Gazette_ of my own.”
As the result of negotiations between the enemy and General Stuart, the
commander of the 1500 soldiers who had taken part in the siege, the
French garrison marched out with the honours of war on the 10th August,
a proceeding not at all in keeping with Nelson’s ideas. However, it was
not for him to decide, and he had the satisfaction of knowing that he
had materially assisted in the conquest of Corsica. He was specially
delighted with the thought that in future the enemy’s navy would
be deprived of the pine, tar, pitch, and hemp which the island had
formerly sent to Toulon.
[Illustration: 1765-1911
Comparison of the “Victory” with the “Hercules”
=Photo Stephen Cribb, Southsea=]
Nelson now looked forward to reaching the quiet waters of Spithead
before the end of the year. In this he was disappointed. Hood returned
to Toulon, where French naval preparations were going on apace, and
Nelson was sent with the _Agamemnon_ to Leghorn in order that his
ship might refit and his men have a little rest after their arduous
exertions in Corsica. On his own showing, he was “the best in health,
but every other Officer is scarcely able to crawl.” When ready for
further service Nelson joined the admiral off Toulon, from whence he
proceeded to Genoa “to keep peace and harmony” with that Republic by
enforcing its neutrality. This mission was not of long duration, and on
the last day of September 1794 he was directed to proceed off Gourjean
and place himself under the orders of Vice-Admiral Hotham, Hood’s
successor as Commander-in-chief in the Mediterranean.
At this stage of our story it may not be unfitting to study the
accompanying table,[15] which reveals at a glance the active list
of ships, exclusive of harbour and stationary vessels, troop and
storeships, ships building, etc., in the British Navy, at the beginning
of the Great War and in 1805:
Year. Sail-of- Total of Total Total Naval Seamen and
the-line. Vessels. tonnage. Supplies Marines employed.
granted.
1793 113 304 295,409 £4,003,984 45,000
1805 116 534 407,814 £15,035,630 120,000
When we come to compare the Navy of Nelson’s day with that of our
own, the result is astounding. The estimates for 1910-11 amount to
£40,603,700. Of this sum, £13,279,830 is for ships either under
construction or about to be laid down. There are 95 battleships and
first-class cruisers afloat or building, and there is a total strength
of 710 vessels, including torpedo gunboats, destroyers, torpedo boats,
and submarines.[16] The entire _personnel_, exclusive of the reserves,
numbers 131,000.
The accompanying illustration gives an exact idea of the enormous
difference in size between the _Victory_ and the _Hercules_. The
former, launched in 1765, has a gross tonnage of 2,164; the latter--at
the time of writing, the largest British battleship afloat--has a
displacement of 20,250 tons, over nine times that of the _Victory_.
Nelson’s flagship is still afloat, but who can tell when the _Hercules_
will be obsolete? Progress demands many and costly victims.