Nelson: Britannia's God of War (21 page)

By the end of 1797, Rear Admiral Sir Horatio Nelson’s fame was firmly established. Even the failure at Tenerife had not dented his reputation, because his earlier Mediterranean exploits had been so memorable, and his conduct in defeat was as stirring as his most daring moments at St Vincent. Yet he remained the hero of another man’s battle – as he had told Clarence a decade earlier, he would not be thenational hero until he had led the fleet to victory.

The war was changing rapidly from an eighteenth-century question of provinces, islands and indemnities into a struggle for survival. The collapse of the first coalition left Britain with little prospect of an ally capable of defeating the French and restoring the pre-war frontiers, let alone the pre-war regime. Britain’s coalition partners generally failed to see the war in such absolute terms: they continued to run balance sheets of profit and loss, a trifling game that Britain was forced to play because she had no war-winning strategy of her own. The two core adversaries, Britain and France, remained in an uneasy stalemate, each side victorious in part, but unable to find a settlement of their differences that could bring long-term security. On the one hand French plans to invade Britain had been utterly defeated, by wind, weather and warships; yet on the other, Britain could not be secure while France occupied Belgium and controlled Holland, and would not
prosper while she controlled access to European markets. Nelson’s solution to this impasse would be to take the art of war at sea to new levels, securing British naval dominance by annihilating any hostile fleet that put to sea. Only by securing an absolute command of the sea could Britain survive without allies, and impose a truly effective blockade on France.

Pitt’s financial reforms and the naval successes of 1797 provided a platform to sustain the British war effort. British government borrowing was secured at a far lower rate of interest than that paid by her rivals, and further economic changes would develop Britain’s capability to sustain her power over the long term. However, long wars make grave demands, and the government continued to look for powerful allies. The obvious focus for Britain’s foreign policy was the Mediterranean: she needed to renew links with Austria, the only major power that appeared both ready and willing to fight, and to reopen the major markets that had been closed for the last year.
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Nelson, nursed back to health by his mother/wife, was ready for these new challenges. He had no thought of leave, or of settling down in the mythical ‘cottage’ that had occupied so many of his letters to Fanny. His soul did not take wing in a quiet cottage garden, but on the quarter-deck of a battleship, commanding squadrons and fleets, matching his insight, judgement and intellect against the best the enemy could do. For him the path seemed divinely pre-ordained, even if it was not revealed. Perhaps he was resigned to death as the ultimate price of immortal glory – certainly his fixation with the career and death of James Wolfe suggested as much.

After 1797 Nelson knew he had the ability to lead: the promise held out by his earlier minor triumphs had been fulfilled. This was not simply a matter of intellect and resolve. The Mediterranean campaigns from 1793 to 1797
had demonstrated that his remarkable, warm, human leadership, his care for those he led, inspired ships’ companies, fleets and fellow officers. Even hard-bitten old professionals like Jervis succumbed to his zeal, charm and professionalism; and the envy of his peers and elders was almost always replaced by recognition that he was the better man.

Nelson’s company was now sought by the leading men of the age; he divided his stay in England between Bath and London, not finding time to return to his native Norfolk and making only a flying visit to the house he had bought near Ipswich. His social popularity was
delightful after the bitter years in the wilderness, and he recorded the kindness of the great with a naive pleasure. He mixed regularly with Cabinet ministers and his views influenced their strategic discussions. Secretary at War William Windham recorded a dinner on 28 November, for example, at which Nelson was among his guests, along with the Lord Chancellor, Foreign Secretary Lord Grenville, Elliot and Norfolk peer Lord Cholmondley.
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At such dinners, the themes that occupied Nelson’s every waking thought – Navy and Empire, trade and power – were the main topics of discussion, and the authority with which he spoke was soon recognised. Windham, for example, noticed that the letters he received from Earl St Vincent in the Mediterranean agreed entirely with the predictions made by Nelson at the dinner table.
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The Nelson effect was almost universal: the formidable Lady Spencer was so taken with the ‘wonderful mind’ that ‘broke forth’ that she wanted to see Nelson whenever he came to the Admiralty, and noted his every action at a farewell dinner.
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Although Nelson took great pleasure in being the lion of the season, he was anxious to rejoin his Commander and resume his career. He hoped to rejoin the fleet off Cadiz in early March.
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At the same time St Vincent and Spencer were discussing the entry of a squadron into the Mediterranean, prompted by the impending withdrawal of Portugal from the war, and consequent exclusion of the fleet from Lisbon. The loss of Portugal threatened Britain’s economic lifeline: the Atlantic trade routes. French warships or privateers based at Lisbon could annihilate the trade on which Britain depended. The British had to act quickly: the only friendly ports inside the Straits were in Naples, but to use them would only encourage the French to take control of even more of the peninsula. There was an air of desperation in Spencer’s idea, prompted by St Vincent, of sweeping round the sea to see what damage could be done before retiring to England.
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Everything depended on the movements of the French, and the Brest Squadron caused considerable alarm in January by preparing for sea. A convalescent Nelson was frustrated by being in Bath, far from the centre of action. He and Fanny returned to London in late February, and attended a Royal Levee on 28 February. He took leave of the King in mid-March, and prepared for sea; Fanny would go back to Bath, to rejoin old Edmund.
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There was time to write his will, leaving almost everything to Fanny, before hoisting his flag on the
Vanguard
at
Portsmouth on 29 March.
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Spencer, writing to St Vincent, was confident that he would be pleased by the news:

The passage to Lisbon, escorting vital naval storeships, occupied a tedious fortnight. Nelson then set out for the fleet off Cadiz. The voyage south gave him time to think about the next stage of the campaign. He was hoping for a fleet action, but feared that the Spanish would not come out, while St Vincent had too few ships to detach a squadron ‘up the Mediterranean, to endeavour to get hold of the French squadron, now masters of that sea’.
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Nelson reached the fleet on 30 April, and immediately went aboard the flagship, where his presence gave ‘new life’ to St Vincent. Nelson had been thinking about the bombardment of Cadiz with mortar and gunboats, but reports that Bonaparte’s army was at sea made a strategic reconnaissance the most likely option. At this stage he accepted the usual analysis that it was destined for Sicily, Malta, Sardinia, Naples or Portugal.
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Two days later St Vincent sent him inside the Straits with the seventy-fours,
Alexander
and
Orion
, and three frigates, to ‘endeavour to ascertain the real object of the [French] preparations’. His senior companions were two of St Vincent’s best men: James Saumarez, who had distinguished himself off Cape St Vincent in 1797 and would command the Baltic fleet between 1808 and 1812, and Alexander Ball, who would later become Governor of Malta.

Even as Nelson set off on his mission British policy, and his career, were about to change. The ministers in London were reviewing the policy. Elliot had called on Spencer to advance both his own Mediterranean opinions, and the merits of Nelson to command the necessary force. Following a cabinet meeting on 28 April Spencer directed St Vincent to send a more substantial force into the Mediterranean. Initially the object was to oppose the French armament thought to be destined for Naples. This rumour had so alarmed Austria that she was likely to rejoin the war, something the ministers were anxious to encourage. The British doubted the French would go to so much trouble for Naples, and fancied either Portugal or Ireland was the target, but they were happy to see the views of Vienna changing.
A fleet in the Mediterranean would block the French, encourage the Austrians and perhaps bring the war to a speedy termination. St Vincent could have taken his entire force on a mission of this importance, but the minister preferred him to divide his command.

Reinforcements would be sent from the Channel fleet, but the advance notice would allow time to prepare the necessary ships from the fleet off Cadiz.
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This was a momentous turn in the pattern of the war: the British were shifting from the defensive to the offensive, with a terrible swiftness that would outpace friend and foe alike. Nelson, who had long believed Hood’s argument that it was necessary to destroy the enemy whenever the opportunity arose, was the perfect choice to lead this new type of mission. Nor would it be in vain, for the French were on the verge of making a major mistake, by trusting an entire army on an overseas expedition. Even the optimistic Nelson could never have dared to hope for so much.

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Although the Austrians left the war in October 1797, bought off by territorial concessions, their defection followed the morale-boosting victory at Camperdown. Britain might be alone, but the threat of invasion had been removed: her policy-makers could fight alone, relying on maritime control. Such a strategy had been useful in the era of limited war, when economic exhaustion and a few islands could persuade the enemy to seek terms, but the new enemy was too ruthless and unreliable for such negotiation. Foreign Secretary Lord Grenville accepted that Britain would not be secure until France was stable, and Europe at peace. This in turn required the combined resources of the rest of the Continent to bring about a regime change in Paris. To fall back on the defensive would pass the initiative to France, allowing her to threaten invasion of Britain or Ireland, attacks on trade or further European conquests, all of which harmed British commercial interests. The loss of Portugal, the last ally, would be particularly serious.
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Lisbon was the key to the defence of the East and West India convoys, and vital to the financial health of the nation.

Throughout 1798, then, Grenville sought a Great Power coalition,
linking Britain with Austria, Prussia and Russia, with a single war aim and a coherent strategy. The hope was illusory: self-interest, mutual suspicion and the instability of the Russian Tsar made the coalition impossible, and the whole-hearted support of any one power highly unlikely. It would take another fourteen years of Napoleonic aggression to overcome such hurdles. However, the British realised that Austria was the most likely to rejoin the war, because the French were not keeping the terms of the 1797 treaty. Knowing the Austrians wanted a fleet in the Mediterranean to defend their interests, Grenville and Pitt overrode Spencer’s objections. The naval officers at the Admiralty wanted to keep a reserve to secure Ireland, but the Cabinet insisted that it be sent to the Mediterranean, despite the danger. In addition the blockade of Brest was tightened, to reduce the possibility of the French using their main fleet, thereby improving the security of Ireland.
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News of a possible Franco-Austrian rupture, and the intervention of the King, resulted in eight ships being sent. To emphasise the speed with which Britain shifted from the defensive to the offensive, the reinforcements came from the Irish coast, where the French had only recently landed. The degree of risk involved became clear in August and September, when Nelson seemed to have failed.
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Even so the force sent was a sortie squadron: it had no staff and no base, and the duration of the cruise could be no more than three months, unless the ports of Naples were opened.
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St Vincent rose to the challenge, detaching his elite inshore squadron. He intended that Saumarez should return, leaving his favourite Troubridge as the ranking second, and consequently did not send Collingwood, who was senior to both men, to his immense chagrin. Nor did he intend sending the
Audacious
,
with her uninspiring captain Davidge Gould. George Murray in the
Colossus
would have gone, had he arrived in time.
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Two days later St Vincent ordered Nelson with his reinforced squadron to pursue the enemy armament, and ‘use your utmost endeavours to take, sink, burn, or destroy it’, looking to Naples, Tuscany and the ex-Venetian territories for supplies.
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