The Story of Nelson 7

The Story of Nelson 7

The ardent captain also fell foul of Hughes in another matter. The

commissioner of the dockyard at Antigua was Captain Moutray, a

half-pay officer whom Hughes, going beyond his powers, made commodore.

Nelson refused to recognise him as such. The case was investigated

by the Admiralty at the instigation of both parties, with the result

that Nelson was reprimanded for taking the law into his own hands.

Professor Sir J. Knox Laughton, while admitting that “In both cases

Nelson was right in his contention,” is forced to add that “The first

duty of an officer is to obey orders, to submit his doubts to the

Commander-in-chief, and in a becoming manner to remonstrate against

any order he conceives to be improper; but for an officer to settle

a moot-point himself, and to act in contravention of an order given

under presumably adequate knowledge of the circumstances, is subversive

of the very first principles of discipline. And these were not, it

will be noticed, questions arising out of any sudden and unforeseen

emergency, in providing for which Nelson was forced to depart from his

instructions. Such emergencies do arise in the course of service, and

the decision of the officer may be a fair test of his personal worth;

but neither at St Kitts nor at Antigua was there anything calling for

instant decision, or any question which might not have waited, pending

a reference to the Commander-in-chief or to the Admiralty. And this was

the meaning of the Admiralty minute on Nelson’s conduct at Antigua, a

most gentle admonition for what might have been punished as a grave

offence.”

 

It must not be inferred that there was any personal bitterness on

Nelson’s part regarding the Moutray affair. He conceived it to be

a question of principle, of doing right and shunning wrong: “The

character of an Officer is his greatest treasure: to lower that, is to

wound him irreparably.” He was certainly on excellent terms with the

Commissioner’s wife, for whom he cherished the most friendly feelings.

Indeed, in one of his letters he calls her his “dear, sweet friend....

Her equal I never saw in any country, or in any situation.” Let it be

frankly admitted, however, that Nelson sometimes wore his heart on

his sleeve, and readily betrayed a state of feeling approaching deep

affection for any member of the gentler sex who showed by her ready

sympathy that she possessed a kindly disposition. In the communication

in which the above passage occurs he notes that several of his comrades

had similar amorous tendencies. One officer has proposed and been

refused, another is forestalled in proposing to the lady of his choice

by a more venturesome lover, a third is “attached to a lady at Nevis,”

the said lady being a relation of the future Mrs Nelson. He concludes

with a reference to a niece of Governor Parry, who “goes to Nevis in

the _Boreas_; they trust any young lady with me, being an old-fashioned

fellow.”

 

On the 12th May 1785 Nelson confides to his brother William that he has

made the acquaintance of “a young Widow,” and towards the end of the

following month he tells the same correspondent, “between ourselves,”

that he is likely to become a “_Benedict_.... Do not tell.” The lady

of his choice was Mrs Nisbet, then twenty-seven years of age and the

mother of a boy. We are fortunate in having copies of many of his

letters to her, for there is a wealth of affection--scarcely love--and

much sage philosophy in them. “My greatest wish is to be united to

you;” he writes on the 11th September 1785, “and the foundation of

all conjugal happiness, real love and esteem, is, I trust, what you

believe I possess in the strongest degree towards you.... We know that

riches do not always insure happiness; and the world is convinced that

I am superior to pecuniary considerations in my public and private

life; as in both instances I might have been rich.” “You are too good

and indulgent;” he avers on another occasion, “I both know and feel

it: but my whole life shall ever be devoted to make you completely

happy, whatever whims may sometimes take me. We are none of us perfect,

and myself probably much less so than you deserve.” “Fortune, that

is, money, is the only thing I regret the want of, and that only for

the sake of my affectionate Fanny. But the Almighty, who brings us

together, will, I doubt not, take ample care of us, and prosper all our

undertakings. No dangers shall deter me from pursuing every honourable

means of providing handsomely for you and yours....”

 

The messages lack the passionate fire of Napoleon’s notes to Josephine,

and on occasion are apt to be rather too business-like for love

letters. The romance did not end like the fairy stories, they did not

live “happily ever after,” but there is no reason to doubt that Nelson

cherished a fond affection for the young widow. “Her sense,” he informs

his brother, “polite manners, and to you I may say, beauty, you will

much admire: and although at present we may not be a rich couple, yet

I have not the least doubt but we shall be a happy pair:--the fault

must be mine if we are not.” Subsequent events proved the truth of the

latter remark.

 

In due course Sir Richard Hughes was succeeded in the command of the

Leeward Islands by Sir Richard Bickerton. Nelson complains towards the

end of 1786 that “A total stop is put to our carrying on the Navigation

Laws,” thereby showing that the old problem had by no means been solved

so far as he was concerned.

 

On the 12th March 1787 Nelson and Mrs Nisbet were married at Nevis.

Prince William Henry, then captain of the _Pegasus_ and under Nelson’s

command, gave away the bride. Three months later the newly-wedded

captain was at Spithead, the almost unseaworthy condition of the

_Boreas_ making it impossible for her to stand another hurricane season

in the West Indies.

 

Nelson was placed on half-pay, a state which he by no means liked. In

May 1788 he had reason to believe that he would be employed again. “I

have invariably laid down,” he tells a friend, “and followed close, a

plan of what ought to be uppermost in the breast of an Officer: that it

is much better to serve an ungrateful Country, than to give up his own

fame. Posterity will do him justice: a uniform conduct of honour and

integrity seldom fails of bringing a man to the goal of Fame at last.”

 

Nelson visited Plymouth, Bath, and London, and finally settled down at

Burnham Thorpe. His letters reveal the keenness with which he desired

to obtain employment. He applied to both Viscount Howe, First Lord

of the Admiralty, and to Lord Hood, but all his overtures came to

nought. In September 1789 he tells his old friend Locker that “I am

now commencing Farmer, not a very large one, you will conceive, but

enough for amusement. Shoot I cannot, therefore I have not taken out a

license; but notwithstanding the neglect I have met with, I am happy,

and now I see the propriety of not having built my hopes on such sandy

foundations as the friendships of the Great.”

 

Not until January 1793 were his dearest wishes granted. “After clouds

comes sunshine,” he writes to his wife from London. “The Admiralty

so smile upon me, that really I am as much surprised as when they

frowned. Lord Chatham yesterday made many apologies for not having

given me a Ship before this time, and said, that if I chose to take a

Sixty-four to begin with, I should be appointed to one as soon as she

was ready; and whenever it was in his power, I should be removed into a

Seventy-four. Everything indicates War....”

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER IV

 

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.”