Horatio Nelson
Tom Pocock. New York: Knopf, 1988. 367 pp. Illus. Maps. Notes. Bib. Ind. $22.95 ($20.65).
Reviewed by Captain John Coote, Royal Navy (Retired)
One cannot help but wonder what there is left to say about the one-armed naval officer who has been the toast of every wardroom in the Royal Navy on 21 October each year since 1805. Every aspect of the legend he hoped to be remembered by and which he so assiduously planned has been told over and again. The bibliography of this book lists 38 titles, not counting three earlier Nelson biographies by Tom Pocock himself.
But this book throws fresh light and shade on the man who secured naval supremacy for his country for more than a century by thwarting Napoleon Bonaparte’s plans to add England to his battle honors. There is nothing new in a warts- and-all life of Vice Admiral Viscount Horatio Nelson, and the author does not duck his hero’s overwhelming vanity, his greed for every last penny his prize agent could secure for him, or the cruel manner in which he abandoned his wife of 14 years for a high-priced courtesan with whom, along with her husband, he formed a menage a trois (or tria juncta in uno, as the Italians put it), which even King William IV frowned upon. (He turned his back on Nelson during an audience after Nelson’s return from his great victory in 1798 at Aboukir, Egypt, when Nelson had introduced his pregnant mistress to London society.)
At that time, he was engaged in litigation over prize money with his old commander-in-chief, the Earl of St. Vincent, who commented to the Secretary of the Admiralty that Nelson was “devoured by vanity, weakness and folly; strung with ribbons and medals, yet pretended that he wished to avoid the honour and ceremonies he everywhere met on the road.”
During the long years he spent on halfpay from 1787 to 1793, stuck in a remote comer of Norfolk with a muddleheaded and frigid wife who failed to produce him an heir, Nelson turned his mind to politics, blending liberal ideas with hard- nosed patriotism. He had married the widow Frances Nisbet in 1787, on the rebound from a frustrated platonic affair with a Mrs. Mary Moutray in Antigua. But it was not until later, when he set himself up as a country gentleman at Merton on the outskirts of London that he became a regular speaker in the House of Lords, probably in the hope of one day becoming First Lord of the Admiralty, the political chief of the Navy. But it soon became apparent that he was—like the Vicar of Bray, and for the same reasons—a staunch supporter of whichever prime minister was in power.
Before 1793, when he met Emma Hamilton, the wife of the British ambassador to the Court of Naples, he had enjoyed a torrid affair with an opera singer in Leghorn during a break from his long blockade of Toulon. It was four years before he formed a sexual attachment with the busty Emma, which flourished while the court was in exile in Palermo. By this time. Sir William Hamilton was past caring what his young wife did after dinner, retiring to bed early and thus leaving the field clear for the hero of the Nile, who soon became the father of her child.
It is surprising that Nelson’s conduct ashore should have raised eyebrows amid the unbridled license of Regency society, but it did. Also, he did not endear himself at the Admiralty by twice ignoring his commander-in-chief’s orders to leave his love nest in Sicily and take closer station in the blockade that Britain was trying to maintain against the French—although this was admittedly a very different matter from disregarding orders during the heat of battle, as he did later at Cape St. Vincent and Copenhagen without stirring comment.
Tom Pocock paints a clear picture of why Nelson is immortalized. He firmly places ahead of Nelson’s reckless, unthinking bravery the reputation he earned as a leader for whom loyalty went both ways. When the occasion demanded he could enforce discipline with the full venom of the cat o’ nine tails, but he was above all a humane officer who, by the standards of his day, cared deeply for the welfare of the men under him. He was also a soft touch for any old shipmate in need, of whatever rank.
He was a superlative natural seaman, maneuvering those clumsy old hulks with great dexterity. From his earliest days he drew lessons from each engagement in which he fought. His enduring gift to naval tactics was to ensure that his subordinate commanders knew ahead of time exactly what to do in any given combat situation. His classic ploy was to drive a squadron through the enemy line of battle, rather than cross ahead, and then to lay alongside in hand-to-hand combat, led by himself. His style of leadership was echoed by Field Marshal Bernard Montgomery, General Douglas MacArthur, and Admiral Louis Mountbatten. but it would seem that Admiral John Jellicoe found his tactical dogma irrelevant at Jutland, otherwise there might have been a result.
All this is brought vividly to life by Tom Pocock, whose book is compulsive and easy reading, well illustrated and with all its sources clearly authenticated. He has included new information to create an especially intimate portrait of the oft-painted admiral. It is from the diaries of Nelson’s young niece, for example, that he draws details of the life the Hamiltons and Nelson shared at Merton Place.
Somehow he makes Nelson’s weaknesses endearing, as of course they were to the lower deck of the day and to his beloved Band of Brothers, the captains under his command. But his country quickly forgot about Emma after the state funeral in St. Paul’s Cathedral in London. She died aged 50 as a drunken pauper in Calais nine years after her lover had entrusted her future care to his countrymen with his dying breath.
Seapower in Global Politics, 1494-1993
George Modelski and William R. Thompson. Seattle, WA: University of Washington Press, 1988. 380 pp. Bib. Ind. 535.00 ($31.50).
Reviewed by John B. Hattendorf
George Modelski and William R. Thompson are political scientists who aim in this book to examine in statistical terms some of the data that historians have gathered on the role sea power plays in international relations. Their main interest is in the relationship of naval and maritime history to the theory of long cycles in world politics. Their purpose is twofold: to gather the basic data on the naval strength of nations between 1494 and 1993; and to shed light on the exercise of leadership in global politics.
The authors believe that data on naval strength hold a key to understanding who holds global leadership, and why. While navies are not the only factors involved in world leadership, they do form a crucial factor that helps to lay the foundation for operations of global reach. “Only those disposing of superior navies have in the modem world staked out a good claim for World leadership,” the authors write.
In order to be a world power, a nation must have global reach. “It is a fundamental postulate of this analysis,” the authors declare, “that seapower (or, more precisely, ocean power) is the sine qua non of action in global politics because it is the necessary (though not the sufficient) condition of operations of global— that is intercontinental—scope.”
Modelski and Thompson argue that Alfred Thayer Mahan’s interpretation of sea power deals with the same basic questions about world order that one finds in the “long cycle approach.” Long cycle theorists contend that eras in world leadership as well as the causes and consequences of major wars appear in regular patterns that are both cyclical and evolutionary. Modelski and Thompson have tried to move further along in the study of this theory by compiling data about naval strength as a measure of a nation’s capability for global operations. In using the results of historical research they find that different historians have come up with different sets of data for numbers of ships, expenditures, and seamen. They do not analyze which are more reliable, but they do record the divergent data for comparison. The authors touch upon the debate on how one can best express naval capability in numerical terms. After considering all but firepower among the possible indexes, they choose ship numbers as the basic indicator for their work.
Using ship numbers, they calculate concentrations of naval power over time and, in the process, note the cyclical fluctuations and relative positions of each major naval power. They calculate a relative share of total sea power for each nation in each year. Plotting their data in graphs, they find that each cycle is about 107 years or roughly four generations in length. Each cycle begins with a global war, followed by a period in which a single state has the preponderance of naval power. This predominant position then erodes gradually until a new global war ushers in the transition to a new predominant naval power.
The traditional naval historian will, no doubt, be horrified by the graphs, tables, charts, and calculations by which this book reduces the drama of naval history to mathematical equations and cyclical models. Theorists of sea power will question the extreme statement of Mahanian views that seems to ignore the qualifications and modifications scholars have contributed in the last century. Other readers will criticize some of the authors’ postulates and the arbitrary decisions they made in selecting and using data, as well as their conclusions.
In short, the authors present a case that is neither thoroughly convincing nor in tune with the conclusions of recent naval historians. This seems rather odd since many of the best works are cited and used as sources. Nevertheless, even if one comes away from the book unconvinced, it does provide some insights that stimulate the reader to think ever more carefully about the role of navies in history and how one can measure and evaluate them. Modelski and Thompson’s work is a new and interesting application of ideas that echo those in classic books by Oswald Spengler, Arnold Toynbee, and Quincy Wright.
The Immortal Warrior: Britain’s First and Last Battleship
Captain John Wells, RN. Emsworth, Hampshire, UK: Kenneth Mason, 1987. 263 pp. Illus. Charts. Tables. Notes. Bib. Ind. Distributed in the United States by Sheridan House, Inc., Dobbs Feny, NY. $45.00 ($40.50).
Reviewed by Captain Kenneth J. Hagan, U. S. Naval Reserve (Retired)
In 1858 the scent of an Anglo-French war hung in the air. The British Admiralty was apprehensive about France’s construction of La Gloire, the world’s first oceangoing ironclad. Prince Albert, the queen’s consort, petulantly asked the First Lord of the Admiralty, “What have we got to meet this new engine of war?”
The Admiralty responded in December with plans for an iron-hulled armored frigate. Captain Sir Baldwin Walker, the Surveyor of the Admiralty, explained the concept behind the design: “The purpose . . . is to break away from the notion of a three-decker towards the low hull of a frigate that can not only keep the sea but can outrun and overwhelm any adversary afloat. Speed is therefore of utmost importance and to meet fighting requirements I must emphasize that only a large iron hull can accommodate the necessary weight of powerful engines, coal, guns and armor protection.”
Launched on 29 December 1860 and commissioned on 1 August of the following year, HMS Warrior was a frigate in name only. Her dimensions dwarfed those of all previous frigates: displacement, 9,210 tons; length, 380 feet; armor, 4.5 inches of iron over 18 inches of teak; armament, 26 smoothbore and 14 rifled breech-loading cannon; propulsion, full sail-rig plus a screw driven by a 5,269-horsepower steam engine; speed, 14 knots; complement, 750 men. She never was tested in battle against La Gloire, and Captain John Wells leaves “the reader to determine what the outcome might have been.”
Against U. S. frigates and monitors the Warrior “could have coped quite easily.” Fortunately, in the Civil War the “Federal government backed down” during the crisis over Captain Charles Wilkes’s kidnapping of the Confederate agents James Mason and John Slidell from the British packet Trent in November 1861. This succinct evaluation of relative order of battle underscores the Warrior’s importance to the American naval historian.
In the age of sail U. S. frigates were recognized widely on both sides of the Atlantic as the match for much larger British warships. Secretary of the Navy Paul Hamilton accurately said of the frigate President in 1811 that she was “nearly equal” to a British 50-gun ship “in her hull, armament, sails, rigging, etc. ...” The launching of the Mer- rimac-class screw frigates in the mid- 1850s maintained the tradition and caused a brief flurry in the Admiralty. But as Captain Wells notes, the American challenge was more than met five years later. No longer could the U. S. Navy claim superiority in frigate design.
With the Warrior Britain eliminated American naval competition for most of the rest of the century. Even the “ABC” cruisers of the “new navy” of the 1880s were no match for her. The Chicago, the heaviest of the three, displaced only 4,500 tons and mounted 14 guns. The U. S. Navy would not regain a fair claim to parity with the Royal Navy in naval architecture until Congress authorized the Indiana-class battleships in June 1890.
The most famous of the Indianas was the Oregon. Any resemblance between them and earlier American warships was purely deceptive. The Oregon’s range exceeded the 5,000 miles stipulated by Congress. Her armor was heavier than any plate carried by a British warship. At a London meeting of the Institute of British Naval Architects in June 1891, a leading British designer lauded the Oregon as “distinctly superior to any European vessels of the same displacement, and . . . quite a match for any ships afloat.” But this grudging praise came a full generation after the Warrior had set a naval standard for the machine age.
Captain Wells does not dwell on the significance of the Warrior to U. S. naval history. His story concerns the Warrior's construction, active life, and reconstitution as a floating museum at Portsmouth Navy Yard. But American naval scholars and buffs should be alert to the possibility of indirectly learning much more about their own service by stepping back in time through a visit to this splendidly restored ship. The voyage of discovery begins with this fine book.
Fifty Famous Liners 3
Frank O. Braynard and William H. Miller. New York: W. W. Norton, 1987. 233 pp. Photos. Ind. $29.95 ($26.95).
Reviewed by Robert L. Schema
One cannot help but draw a parallel between this third volume of the “Fifty Famous Liners” series and the motion picture industry’s success with sequels such as the “Rocky” films. Like “Rocky,” the sequels in the liner series have resulted from the popularity of each preceding volume. The first volume (like the original “Rocky,” unnumbered) was published by W. W. Norton in 1982 and addresses those great passenger ships the names of which even a Kansas farmer would recognize—the Titanic, the Queen Elizabeth (1 and 2), and the United States. Three years later Volume 2 was published, again by Norton, and included the Savannah, the first vessel to employ steam to cross the Atlantic; the Mauretania, which held the transatlantic speed record between 1907 and 1929; and the Morro Castle, which burned off the coast of New Jersey in 1935. Now we have Liners 3, and this is perhaps the best of the trilogy. I have the feeling that many of the ships written about in Liners 3 are among the authors’ favorites, but marketplace realities dictated that they address the “Titanics” first.
Like its predecessors, Liners 3 has a four-to-six page history of each of the 50 passenger ships it profiles. One strength of these volumes is their rich selection of illustrations, which includes reproductions of line drawings, menus, travel posters, and newspaper headlines, as well as interior and exterior views of the ships. Sprinkled throughout the work are excerpts from the writings of passengers, which help to bring these ships to life. Liners 3 focuses more on the modem liners than the earlier books did. Sixteen of the 50 ships covered are post-World War II vessels; only three were built during the 19th century. By the time you start reading the history of the 150th famous liner you might argue that the series has reached the point of appealing primarily to the passenger ship buff. Although this is true to a degree, the maritime historian will recognize that many of the ships Liners 3 describes have had a significant impact on social, technological, and military history.
Concerning social history, the authors note that steerage passengers on board the Germanic (1874) were still required to bring their own beds, bedding, and mess utensils; and the luxury of the Royal Viking Star (1972) has resulted in a strong following among the well-to-do. Those interested in the history of technology also will find these books a rich source of information. The authors note that Campania (1905) was the first Cunard liner to abandon the use of sail entirely. Later they write, “The beginning of the use of fireproof materials in ship construction is evident with the Korea (1901),’’ and they detail the evidence; and they address the early use of aluminum on the Delbrasil (1940) and its significance in general. The successful conversion of the future Seven Seas (1940) into the first escort carrier and the importance of that undertaking are reviewed.
Given the love that Frank O. Braynard and William H. Miller evidence for their subject. Liners 3 will please the most fanatical passenger ship buffs as well as those holding a broader interest in maritime themes.
Other Titles of Interest
Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea: Merchant Seamen, Pirates, and the Anglo- American Maritime World 1700-1750
Marcus Rediker. New York: Cambridge University Press, 1987. 322 pp. Illus. Maps. Notes. Append. Ind. $24.95 ($22.45).
British Vessels Lost at Sea 1914-18 and 1939-45: Third Edition with Added Material
Northamptonshire, UK: Patrick Stephens, 1988. 370 pp. Charts. Order directly from the publisher at Wellingborough, Northamptonshire NN8 2RQ, England.
Bitter Victory: The Sicily Campaign, 1943
Carlo D’Este. New York: E. P. Dutton, 1988. 641 pp. Photos. Maps. Bib. Ind. $27.50 ($24.75).
Who Was Who in the Civil War
Stewart Sifakis, New York: Facts on File, 1988. 641 pp. Photos. Maps. Bib. Ind. $25.50 ($24.75)