Some 15 miles to the northeast of Alexandria and to the west of the Rosetta mouth of the Nile lies Aboukir Bay, formed by a crescent-shaped indentation of the North African coast. It was here, in late summer of 1798, that the French admiral Francois Paul Brueys lay at anchor with the fleet that had escorted Bonaparte’s armada of transports to Egypt. And it was here that Sir Horatio Nelson, Rear Admiral of the Blue, found them and gained a victory of such brilliance as to dazzle all Europe.
The French descent upon Egypt had been considered as far back as 1769 by the French foreign minister of the time, the Due Etienne de Choiseul. In 1777, a French army officer, Baron de Tott, was dispatched to Egypt ostensibly to inspect French consular and commercial establishments, but his real mission was to explore the feasibility of turning Egypt into a French colony. In the ensuing decade, numerous proposals were advanced on this question until, for a time, the Revolution put an end to speculation. With the end of the Terror, and the consolidation of power in the hands of the Directory, adherents of the Egyptian proposal again appeared. It is uncertain as to just when Bonaparte took up the idea, but he expressed his interest in an Egyptian adventure in a letter to Talleyrand in 1797. Later, when his presence in Paris was becoming increasingly embarrassing to the Directory, the proposal was eagerly taken up when the idea was again advanced.
On 19 May 1798, Bonaparte sailed from Toulon. A severe storm sweeping up the coast dampened the enthusiasm of the French soldiery at the outset, but it almost certainly preserved the secrecy of the expedition’s destination. It caught Nelson cruising offshore with his squadron, dismasted his flagship the Vanguard, and brought him to the brink of disaster. Of less immediate concern, but of pregnant consequence, was the scattering of his frigates. Assuming that the battering the Vanguard had received from the weather would force Nelson to return to Gibraltar for repairs, the frigates failed to keep station and so became separated. This loss of his scouting force was to plague Nelson severely in the coming weeks; so much so that it led him to complain later that “Was I to die this moment, ‘Want of Frigates’ would be found stamped on my heart.” So began the first of a series of mischances that prevented the interception of the French armament.
The French steered first for Malta, which fell easily to the combination of French intrigue and overwhelming force. The possibility of a move on India through Egypt had been suspected for some time, and in a letter to Lord Spencer at the Admiralty dated 15 June 1798 (the day Malta surrendered), Nelson wrote: “If they pass Sicily, I shall believe they are going on with their scheme of possessing Alexandria, and getting troops to India ”
Shortly thereafter news was obtained of the French fleet making for Malta. Nelson followed with all dispatch, but before reaching that island he received word of its capitulation and Bonaparte’s quick departure. Now convinced that the enemy destination was Egypt, Nelson made all sail in that direction. Again fortune snubbed him. Unencumbered by slower vessels, the British fleet passed Bonaparte during the night of the 22nd in thick weather (actually passing so close that the French heard the British signal guns) and arrived at Alexandria on the 28 th, well ahead of the French, who had taken a more circuitous route. Finding no sign of the enemy, and given a cold reception by the Turks, Nelson sailed to the northeast for Caramania and Candia. Tormented by frustration, Nelson wrote thus on 20 July to Sir William Hamilton, the British Ambassador at Naples:
It is an old saying, “the Devil’s children have the Devil’s luck.” I cannot find, or to this moment learn, beyond vague conjecture where the French Fleet are gone to. All my ill fortune, hitherto, has proceeded from want of Frigates. Off Cape Passaro, on the 22nd of June, at daylight, I saw two Frigates, which were supposed to be French, and it has been said since that a Line of Battle Ship was to Leeward of them, with the riches of Malta on board, but it was the destruction of the Enemy, not riches for myself, that I was seeking. These would have fallen to me if I had had Frigates, but except the Ship of the Line, I regard not all the riches of this world. For every information of Malta I believed they were gone to Egypt. Therefore on the 28th, I was communicating with Alexandria in Egypt, where I found the Turks preparing to resist them, but know nothing beyond report. From thence I stretched over the Coast of Caramania, where not meeting a vessel that could give me information, I became distressed for the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies, and having gone a round of 600 leagues at this season of the year . . . with an expedition incredible, here I am as ignorant of the situation of the Enemy as I was twenty-seven days ago.
Meanwhile Bonaparte had landed on the North African coast at Marabout, quickly captured Alexandria, inflicted a crushing defeat on the Mamelukes at the Battle of the Pyramids, and was established in Egypt. Finally, intelligence of the French presence there reached Nelson in Greek waters off Cape Matapan. He immediately made for Alexandria.
The position of the French fleet in Bequier Road in Aboukir Bay has been the subject of some controversy. Admiral Alfred Thayer Mahan, in his The Life of Nelson, severely criticized Brueys’ dispositions, and the mere fact of Nelsons’ overwhelming success lends weight to his criticism. Eyewitness accounts, however, stress the strength of the French position. But all agree that the French possessed considerable superiority in weight of metal. All of the 13 English Line of Battle Ships were 74s; the only other vessel of note at Nelson’s disposal was the Leander of 50 guns. Opposed to this force, Brueys had his massive flagship the Orient of 120 guns, four 80-gun vessels, and eight 74s. In addition, he had a 44, a 40, and two 36-gun frigates plus several miscellaneous craft. A battery of guns and mortars had also been placed on Bequier (now Nelson) Island towards which the van of the French line pointed, although the weight of the guns appears to have been insufficient to make them effective. The French ships were anchored by the bow in a line which bent in the middle at a slight angle. They were spaced about 500 feet apart, and were protected from seaward by a line of shoals.
History also lent her support to the French Admiral, as 20 years earlier an English Fleet under Rear Admiral Samuel Barrington had beaten off the attack of a greatly superior French force under Charles, Count d’Estaing, at St. Lucia with dispositions of a similar nature. Brueys seemingly had confidence in his ability to resist attack as he had remarked in a letter that the English had missed him, because, not being superior in force, they did not think it prudent to try their strength with him. Nelson’s reputation was not yet such as to completely overawe his opponents.
At noon on 1 August, the British fleet arrived off Alexandria for the second time, and Brueys was shortly to learn the extent of Nelson’s reluctance to try his strength. Captain Samuel Hood in the Zealous stood in towards Aboukir Bay, and at about three o’clock in the afternoon signaled that the French fleet was at last in sight. Nelson had no other thought but to attack.
However frustrating the long weeks of search and pursuit had been to Nelson and his “Band of Brothers,” they had not been wasted. Whenever opportunity presented, Nelson had made it his practice to invite his captains on board the Vanguard and explain and discuss his ideas and plans for attack in all conceivable situations in which they might find the enemy. He commanded one of the most remarkable groups of naval captains ever assembled, and in his inimitable manner, he drew to the fullest on the fund of talent placed at his disposal. He sketched the grand design and his commanders knew that he believed in their ability to fill in the details. His confidence was not misplaced.
About half-past five the signal for close action was made. Brueys did not at first believe that Nelson would risk an action at that ostensibly unfavorable hour, and it was only when the British squadron commenced to form line ahead and astern the Vanguard that the French admiral informed his fleet that he would engage the enemy at anchor. With a brisk breeze behind them the British vessels pressed in to the attack. The sun set at half past six, and at that time the assault began.
Although Brueys possessed undeniable theoretical advantages, they are somewhat reduced when the facts of the moment are examined. Many of the crew were ashore with watering parties, thereby reducing his numerical superiority. A goodly number were sick, and Brueys himself was not well. Then, too, although the French ships were cleared for action, the decks were somewhat cluttered as a result of the transport duty they had recently engaged in. One of the most significant advantages enjoyed by the French—their over-all superiority of fire power—was reversed by the tactics of Nelson. His instructions were simple: each ship was to seek such position as the facts of the moment allowed and the mutual support of each other dictated. On finding that position they were to anchor by the stern with springs on the cable for maneuvering. By first attacking the French van and center, and then passing down the line as the lead ships were reduced to wreckage, the British were able to present a preponderance of force to those ships engaged at the moment. But most important of all, the morale of the French could in no way match that of the British. Brueys was an able and brave commander but he was no Nelson.
Captain Thomas Foley in the Goliath began the action in a bold and brilliant manner that set the pattern for what followed. Anticipating that the French would not expect an attack from their most protected quarter, he brought his vessel inshore of their lead ship, between the Guerrier and the battery on Bequier Island. His original intention had been to engage the lead vessel, but his anchor fouled and before it was cleared he had drifted on to the second in line, the Conquerant. Hood followed in the jealous and took the position Foley had first chosen. Aided by the fire from the vessels following, both French ships were totally disabled in less than a quarter of an hour from the commencement of action. Sir James Saumarez, Nelson’s second in command, in the Orion, raked the Guerrier in crossing ahead, passed inshore of the Goliath, sank a French frigate, and then took up station inshore of the French center between the Peuple Souverain and the Franklin—the fifth and sixth ships respectively. Davidge Gould, in the Audacious, also added to the Guerrier's distress in passing, and then engaged the Conquer ant in support of Foley. When that ship struck, Gould then proceeded on to the Peuple Souverain. Ralph Miller, in the Theseus, also raked the Guerrier on entering the action, and then moved on to a position inshore of the Spartiate, third ship in the French line.
Now came Nelson in the Vanguard to take up station abreast the offshore side of the Spartiate. Thomas Louis in the Minotaur, George Darby in the Bellerophon, John Peyton in the Defence, and George Wescott in the Majestic, followed the Admiral, and moved on beyond to engage the French center. Louis fixed on the Aquilon, the fourth in line; Darby ambitiously passed down to the seventh ship, the towering Orient, and was badly mauled. A third of the Bellerophon's crew were killed or disabled, her masts and cables were shot away, and she drifted out of action. Peyton engaged the sixth vessel, the Franklin. Wescott, the only English captain to lose his life, fouled the rigging of the Tonnant astern the Orient and suffered badly from the heavy guns of the French flagship before cutting himself clear. He then took up a position between the Heureux (the ninth) and the Tonnant, receiving the concentrated fire of both. Together with the Bellerophon, the Majestic suffered most heavily on the British side; both were battered by the Orient.
The remainder of the British force had been somewhat separated from the main body when the signal to engage was made, and they did not enter the bay until after darkness had closed in and the action was closely joined. Thomas Troubridge, in the Culloden, led the way and experienced the extreme frustration of grounding on the western tip of the shoal which formed the seaward bulwark of the French position. The caliber of Nelson’s organization and the mettle of the captains who commanded were then amply demonstrated. At this moment of extremity and disappointment, Troubridge, with exquisite promptitude under such galling distraction, gave the signals which saved the vessels astern from a like fate. Benjamin Hallowell in the Swiftsure and Alexander Ball in the Alexander came on to join in the heated fray that was now discernible only by the flash of gunfire.
The two lead ships of the French line were smoldering hulks by this time, and the rest of the van were closely pressed from both sides. Hallowell and Ball sailed down the line of battle towards the enemy center, looking for a “hole to poke in at.” On passing the remainder of the hotly engaged French van, Hallowell met the Bellerophon drifting disabled after her bruising encounter with the Orient. A man of lesser judgment and astuteness might have delivered the coup de grace to the hapless Bellerophon, as she had lost the distinguishing lights prescribed by Nelson. Hallowell held his fire, however, for he correctly deduced that if she were an enemy she was in a state beyond escape, and from the looseness of her sails and direction of heading it was probable she was English. His arrival at this point was opportune, for the disablement of Darby’s ship left the Majestic isolated and heavily beset. The Swiftsure filled the place vacated by the Bellerophon, and commenced a steady fire on both the Franklin and the Orient. While Hallowell was thus taking position, Ball passed astern of the French flagship and anchored on her port quarter. It was the beginning of the end for Brueys and the Orient.
Meanwhile, Thomas Thompson in the 50-gun Leander and Charles Hardy (later Nelson’s flag captain at Copenhagen and Trafalgar) in the brig Mutine were attempting to free Troubridge from the grip of the reef which held him fast. It was soon apparent that nothing was to be quickly done, and Thompson, disdaining the French vessels nearer his own weight, moved on to assist in the destruction of the larger ships.
As the battle raged to its climax, Nelson was struck on the forehead by a piece of iron shot. The wound went to the bone, and the profusion of blood and the flap of skin hanging down blinded him completely. The little admiral was convinced that it was the end; indeed, he almost seemed to leap eagerly to the conclusion that his glory would be crowned by death—as it was to be on a later day. But after waiting his turn for treatment, he was disabused by the surgeon; the wound was ugly but not serious.
By this time, the first five ships in the French line were out of action, and shortly after, the Orient took fire. Brueys had by now met his heroic death. The blaze gained steadily and gave the English all the light needed to finish their work of annihilation. After burning for little more than an hour, the French flagship disappeared in an explosion the force of which silenced all hostilities for several minutes.
Only the ships to the rear now offered effective resistance, and the issue was no longer in doubt. French resistance continued sporadically well into the next day, but what fighting took place after three a.m. was mere hopeless hostility on the part of the French. Only the Guillaume Tell and the Genereux, together with two frigates, escaped capture or destruction. Recognizing the futility of further opposition, they cut their cables and slipped out to sea.
What, then, were the fruits of such a decisive triumph? Nelson himself expressed the opinion that Bonaparte’s force, being now isolated in a hostile country, would not be able to maintain itself for more than a few weeks. No such result was forthcoming, however, for the French, instead of sinking into an ennui induced by despair turned, their energies towards making themselves self sufficient. The attempt on India was forestalled, but it is by no means certain that Bonaparte would have gone on even had Brueys’ fleet remained intact. The course of events in France was becoming increasingly intriguing. Would Bonaparte have buried himself in the East, turning his back on fate now beckoning from France?
The victory of the Nile, for it is by that name it came to be known, did indeed infuse a spasmodic and deceptive energy into the decrepit monarchies of Italy. But this gave but a momentary halt to the process of dissolution. Nelson’s success also resulted in the odd but brief combination of Turkish and Russian naval support of Britain in the Mediterranean, although the decision of the unbalanced Paul of Russia was largely the result of that strange emperor’s pique at Bonaparte for molesting the Knights of Malta for whom he had formed a curious attachment. None of these developments, however, were of lasting significance. Turkish help both on land and at sea was hard to distinguish from hindrance. The Russian effort was more substantial but short-lived. In a series of brilliant victories in the summer of 1799, all that Bonaparte had won in Italy was swept away by the superb generalship of Suvorov; but the initial promise of a decisive check to the republican fortunes of France was not sustained. Within little more than a year of the formation of the anti-French coalition, the capricious Czar became enamoured of Bonaparte and disenchanted with the English. The formation of the League of Armed Neutrality in the Baltic was the result.
Mahan attached great import to the impact of the British victory on the course of opposition to French aggression. The psychological effect of Nelson’s achievement cannot be questioned. It was the first major setback to the genius of Bonaparte, and it brought about a coalescence of resistance to the revolutionary momentum of France. But as noted above, it was no more than a temporary deceleration. The most important result of this outstanding feat of arms was the securing of Nelson’s reputation.
Up to the Battle of the Nile, Nelson had had a career of signal brilliance. He was a captain at 20 and a rear admiral at 38. His exploits in the Agamemnon were well known, and his valor at Cape St. Vincent had earned him a European fame, but he had not yet reached that pinnacle of eminence which is secure from carping criticism.
Nelson was a very junior admiral when he was picked to lead the force created to pursue and destroy Bonaparte’s fleet. His appointment as Rear Admiral of the Blue was dated 20 February 1797, and he was given command of the Mediterranean squadron in June of the following year. At the time of his appointment, he was serving with his old commander, Sir John Jervis, Earl St. Vincent, and when word of Nelson’s selection for this important post became known, bitter complaints were made by more senior flag officers in St. Vincent’s fleet. Sir William Parker and Sir John Orde registered strongly worded protests, and Orde backed up his objections with a challenge to St. Vincent to a duel. The realization of this rashness, however, was forbidden by order of the Throne. Nelson was then well aware when he embarked on his important mission that his career was at a critical juncture.
Following Bonaparte’s departure from Toulon, Nelson had become painfully sensitive of his failure to find the enemy, and he sent an unsolicited and detailed account to the Admiralty explaining his reasons for proceeding in his search as he did. Knowing the ill will that had been born of his appointment, he felt that his failure to find the enemy would soon excite criticism of his conduct.
Robert Southey in his Life of Nelson pointed out that:
Nelson had not yet attained that fame which compels envy to be silent; and when it was known in England that he had returned after an unsuccessful pursuit, it was said that he deserved impeachment; and Earl St. Vincent was severely censured for having sent so young an officer upon so important a service.
Napoleon, in later years, maintained that he had left Brueys instructions that if he was unable to get his fleet into the harbor of Alexandria he was to leave for Corfu. He also related to Admiral George Cockburn, while in that officer’s custody during his voyage to St. Helena, that Brueys, during the passage to Alexandria, had shown him the extreme danger of being caught in just such a position as Nelson found him. We do not have Brueys’ testimony.
But whether Napoleon did issue such orders, whether they reached Brueys if issued, or whether Brueys chose to ignore them, is of little consequence. What is of singular importance is the fact that he did remain and Nelson caught him, and so gave the cap to his glory that henceforward made it impossible to deny him the opportunity to serve his country at Copenhagen and Trafalgar.
There can be no doubt that the decision—whoever made it—to allow the French fleet to remain at Aboukir Bay was a grave error, and so historians have judged it. What has been ignored, however, is the almost absolute necessity of this victory to the progress of Nelson to the vital role at Copenhagen. If he had failed to find Brueys at Aboukir Bay, it is quite probable that he would never have found him. He had only with difficulty obtained water and stores at Syracuse through the personal intercession of Lady Hamilton. His return to Gibraltar could not have been long delayed. He had been sent out not just to intercept Brueys’ covering force for Bonaparte’s armada, but also to prevent the accomplishment of Bonaparte’s objective. This, although through no fault of his own, he did not do. Bonaparte landed in Egypt and was established there. If Nelson had missed Brueys, the presence of the French in Egypt would have raised such an uproar in England as to have made his recall inevitable. Even St. Vincent at that time regarded Nelson as brilliant but eccentric, and hence unfit for the highest command. It was not until after Copenhagen had been won that his opinion was transformed.
Without the victory at Aboukir Bay, it is highly doubtful that Nelson would have continued the rapid rise in rank (he was made Rear Admiral of the Red in February of 1799 and Vice Admiral of the Blue two years later) that made him eligible for high command at Copenhagen. Perhaps a more vigorous officer than Sir Hyde Parker would have been chosen as commander-in-chief in the Baltic if Nelson had not been eligible by reason of rank and reputation for the second post, but this is a tenuous assumption; and an aged, cautious, and slothful Parker without Nelson would have meant indecision and disaster in the Baltic.
But for the decisive check given to the Danes by Nelson, and attended by his equally brilliant diplomacy, Bonaparte might well have gained the naval force necessary to carry out the invasion of England. The formation of the League of Armed Neutrality under the sponsorship of the Emperor Paul was no doubt weakened by his assassination shortly before the engagement at Copenhagen. Nevertheless, the anti-British sentiment generated by English restriction of European commerce was not dissipated by Paul’s death. After the victory, Nelson pushed further into the Baltic in an attempt to ascertain the intentions of the Russians now that Alexander had assumed the throne. He was shortly satisfied that their previously hostile schemes had been abandoned, and so returned to Copenhagen. The situation there, however, remained far from satisfactory, which prompted him to observe that, “In this nation, we shall not be forgiven for having the upper hand of them: I only thank God we have, or they would try to humble us to the dust.”
Certainly there is no denying Nelson’s genius, but what of the materials with which he fashioned his victories? Did not the quality of British ships and the skill and doggedness of the officers and men who manned them play a significant and perhaps deciding role in the pre-eminence displayed by British naval forces?
Now, superiority of design and excellence of construction will not by themselves win naval battles, but they can be factors of decisive importance. In an earlier age it had played no slight part in the defeat of the Spanish Armada; and again in 1601 superior ship design and the greater skill of Dutch seamen combined to defeat a more numerous Portuguese fleet in Bantam Roads off northern Java. Yet, as the 18th century drew to a close, it appears that English-built vessels were on the whole inferior to those of the French, the more to Nelson’s credit.
But what of the British tar? As often as not he was not British. Nelson’s distinguished contemporary Lord Cuthbert Collingwood, in writing to a friend, commented that, “In my ship’s company I have some of all the states of Germany, Poles, Croats, and Hungarians—a motley tribe.” Possibly the “tone” was predominantly British, with an attendant effect on the over-all morale due to the patriotic ardour of the native seamen. Unfortunately most of the best seamen were drawn by the higher pay and better conditions of the merchant service. The increased needs of the Navy were largely met through the activities of the notorious press gangs, and men thus obtained might well be bitter and disgruntled with their lot. A supplementary form of impressment was also practiced through the shipowners and merchant captains by requiring them to furnish a given percentage of the seamen in their employ; needless to say, the better men were not offered. Vagabonds and certain classes of criminals were also used to fill out crews. Under such conditions, the morale and discipline found on the lower deck left something to be desired. In another letter, Collingwood declared that, “ . . . with such a fleet as we have now, how large a portion of the crews are miscreants of every description, and capable of every crime; and when these predominate, what evils may we not dread from the demoniac councils, and influence of such a mass of mischief?” Indeed, “on the eve of its most splendid victories” the British Navy was racked with mutiny. First, the Channel Fleet at anchor in Portsmouth harbor, followed shortly by the mutiny at the Nore. St. Vincent, who was cruising off Cadiz was the next to be affected, and only avoided disablement of his fleet by vigorous, timely, and judicious action. Nelson, when on his way back to England from the Mediterranean, told Lord Fitzharris at Vienna that “ ... if I had taken a fleet of the same force from Spithead, I would sooner have thought of flying than attacking the French in their position [at Aboukir Bay], but I knew my captains. ...”
What, then, of this remark of Nelson’s? Mahan gave strong emphasis to the superiority of command qualities in the British Navy as compared to the French. It was widely believed in England that the British naval officer was without a peer in his profession. Unlike the British Army, the Navy was a career open to talent. As a vocation it had a powerful attraction. England’s greatest heroes—at least since the time of Elizabeth— were naval figures, for neither Cromwell nor Marlborough had yet lived down their handicap of a bad press. The Navy was the avenue whereby men of humble origin might gain glory, wealth and position—if they possessed great talent. But while a man of outstanding abilities could find scope for development, the man of modest gifts was handicapped in competition against the advantages of birth and political connection. As Collingwood observed: “a hole or two in the skin will not weigh against a vote in parliament.” Merit of a high order could overcome these obstacles, but on the lower levels—and this must include the vast bulk of the officer corps—equal abilities were not necessarily given equal consideration. And because the system was quasi-egalitarian, dissatisfaction was therefore rampant.
A pregnant comment as to the quality of many of the higher ranking officers in the British navy of that period is contained in a letter from St. Vincent to Lord Spencer in March of 1799. “The promotion to the Flag,” writes St. Vincent, “has happily removed a number of officers from the command of ships-of-the-line, who at no period of their lives were capable of commanding them; and I am sorry to have occasion to observe, that the present state of the upper part of the list of Captains is not much better than it stood before.”
The renowned historian, Elie Halevy, observed that, “ . . . the conditions under which promotion was given in the Navy were a source of constant complaints, quarrels, and insubordination among the officers.” He further relates that:
In 1811 a letter from Rear Admiral [Thomas] Fremantle to the Marquis of Buckingham reveals the entire fleet in open revolt against Admiral Cotton and awaiting impatiently the change of Cabinet which would replace him by another Admiral.
. . . whether justified or no, the lack of discipline among the other officers was undeniable. Never was it displayed more undisguisedly than after the victory of Aix Ronds in 1809. Rear-Admiral Eliab Harvey, who was second- in-command, inveighed openly on the bridge [sic] of the admiral’s ship against the Commander-in-Chief, Lord Gambier. The latter was obliged to bring him before a court- martial and deprive him of his command.
Nor was Nelson free from the taint. His conduct towards Lord George Keith, after Keith succeeded St. Vincent, was marked by disregard of his superior’s wishes; and for his refusal to obey Keith’s orders to reinforce him at Minorca, Nelson was rebuked by the Admiralty. His independence of command was further demonstrated at Copenhagen when he turned his blind eye to Sir Hyde Parker’s signal to disengage. His fame at Cape St. Vincent followed from an almost unheard of breach of discipline when he left the line-of-battle to engage the Spaniards. Fortunately, events vindicated Nelson’s judgment in these affairs, but insubordination without Nelson’s genius was not an element of British naval superiority.
The genius of Nelson’s leadership lay in his ability to exploit the gifts of others, and this factor was critical at both Copenhagen and Trafalgar. Admiral Mahan commented that:
Attention may . . . fitly be drawn to the effect of a certain cordiality and goodwill on the part of superiors towards their subordinates. It is not perhaps essential to military success, but it undoubtedly contributes to the other elements of that success a spirit, a breath of life, which makes possible what would otherwise be impossible; which reaches heights of devotion and achievement that the strictest discipline, not so inkindled, cannot attain. Doubtless it is a natural gift. The highest example of it possibly ever known among seamen was Nelson. When he joined the fleet just before Trafalgar, the captains who gathered on board the flag-ship seemed to forget the rank of their admiral in their desire to testify their joy at meeting him. “This Nelson,” wrote Captain Duff, who fell in the battle, “is so lovable and excellent a man, so kindly a leader, that we all wish to exceed his desires and anticipate his orders.”
It is worth remark that in the only two major fleet actions where Nelson had the chief command—the Nile and Trafalgar—he was incapacitated by wounds midway in the fighting, yet with such genius did he lay the foundations of victory beforehand that the fight was truly won before it began.
After Aboukir Bay, Nelson’s fame reached such heights that the mere knowledge that he commanded inspired the men under him to exceed themselves, and demoralized the French and Spanish crews in opposition. It should be remembered that Pierre Villeneuve, the French commander at Trafalgar, was in the Guillaume Tell at Aboukir Bay. His experience on that fateful day may not have made him the most effective opponent of Nelson at Trafalgar.
No nation ever stood in greater need of a hero than did England at the end of the 18th century. The brilliance of Bonaparte’s achievements gave an air of futility to attempts to oppose him. This was the period of his greatest popularity in Europe; he was looked to by millions as a deliverer from oppression. Goethe and Beethoven were among his admirers at this time, and people of talent and ambition were eager to support his cause. England had not yet obtained that preponderance of sea power which later set her free from fear of French invasion. Moreover, she was forced to maintain fleets on distant stations, so at no time could the bulk of her navy be concentrated to defend her shores. In these years of Bonaparte’s ascendancy, she had dire need of great naval commanders, for on these men—and of them Nelson was pre-eminent— her safety depended. An accomplishment less than Nelson’s could have been fatal to Britain, and who else could have accomplished as much? The great 19th century historian, Jacob Burckhardt, in his On History and Historians said that “it may depend on the particular degree of strength of one man at one certain moment whether peoples or civilizations are to be lost or not. Great individuals are needed, and they need success.” The significance of historical figures and their actions on the course of history has probably received undue emphasis by writers such as Carlyle. Historical forces that arise independent of mortal hopes and fears are most probably responsible for the main currents of history. The great individuals who appear on history’s pages are swept along by these currents together with the rest of mankind, but it is the function of these personages to act as steersmen for the ship of state of that nation to which they belong. As such they do not decide the course of history, but by their actions and exercise of leadership they enable peoples and nations to evade the shoals and dangers that stud the course of the main stream of events. It is hence difficult to see how the substance of history could have remained essentially unaltered if the lives and deeds of individuals such as Alexander, Caesar, Elizabeth of England, Napoleon, and Bismarck were abstracted from its pattern. Of the chosen few whose hand has rested thus briefly on the helm of fate, Horatio Nelson’s name must certainly be included, and if he had not found the French at Aboukir Bay, the opportunity to serve the cause of Britain at Copenhagen and Trafalgar might well have been denied him.