set in Nelson’s great cabin. His capacity to make decisive moves which produced unprecedented results, based on his understanding of the strengths and weaknesses of his enemy and of his own fleet, became known as ‘the Nelson Touch’. As Admiral the Earl of St Vincent put it, Nelson had an all but unique capacity to infuse ‘the same spirit into others’ as inspired his own actions.4
Throughout his service life Nelson continued to evoke the warmest loyalty from subordinates by his own commitment to them. George Duff, captain of the Mars, had not previously met Nelson before the latter assumed command of the force assembled off Cadiz in October 1805. He was invited to dine with Nelson on board Victory, and reported to his wife that ‘He certainly is the pleasantest admiral I ever served under.’ A few days later he added: ‘He is so good and pleasant a man, that we all wish to do what he likes, without any kind of orders. I have been myself very lucky with most of my admirals, but I really think the present the pleasantest I have ever met with.’5
Edward Berry, captain of Nelson’s flagship at the battle of the Nile in 1798, sent a ‘Narrative’ to The Naval Chronicle that contains the following account of Nelson’s method. Nelson, he wrote, had the ‘highest opinion of, and placed the firmest reliance on the valour and conduct of every captain in his squadron’. Whenever the weather permitted, he signalled for some of his captains to come over to the Vanguard, where he described to them his ‘ideas of the different and best modes of attack, and such plans as he proposed to execute upon falling in with the enemy, whatever their position or situation might be by day or by night’. He had prepared a plan for every eventuality, and made his captains ‘thoroughly acquainted’ with them all. The result was that ‘upon surveying the situation of the enemy, they could ascertain with precision what were the ideas and intention of their commander, without the aid of any further instructions’. This careful preparation made signalling almost unnecessary, and saved time. ‘The attention of every captain could almost undistractedly be paid to the conduct of his own particular ship.’6 Lieutenant George Browne of the Victory, writing to his parents six weeks after the battle of Trafalgar in 1805, virtually reiterated Berry’s assessment: ‘the frequent communications he [Lord Nelson] had with his Admirals and captains put them in possession of all his plans, so that his mode of attack was well known to every officer of the fleet’.7
Samuel Taylor Coleridge, who spent some time as secretary to Alexander Ball who was one of Nelson’s captains at the Nile and later Governor of Malta, wrote that Nelson was as capable of learning from others as he was of teaching.
He collected, as it passed by him, whatever could add to his own stores, appropriated what he could assimilate, and levied subsidies of knowledge from all the accidents of social life and familiar intercourse. Even at the jovial board, and in the height of unrestrained merriment, a casual suggestion, that flashed a new light on his mind, changed the boon companion into the hero and the man of genius; and with the most graceful transition he would make his company as serious as himself.8
Cuthbert Collingwood was Nelson’s friend from the time they served together as lieutenants in the West Indies, although their personalities were very different. In comments to a friend about Nelson’s method, he expressed a belief that it was not a matter of careful planning in a narrow sense. In Collingwood’s opinion, it was Nelson’s habit of tactical analysis, flexibility of mind, and rapport with his officers, which enabled him to make deft responses. ‘Without much previous preparation or plan’, Collingwood wrote, ‘he has the facility of discovering advantages as they arise, and the good judgment to turn them to his use. An enemy that commits a false step in his view is ruined, and it comes on him with an impetuosity that gives him no time to recover.’9 Nelson was implacably committed to one object: the annihilation of the French fleet. Before the battle of Trafalgar he wrote that it is ‘annihilation that the country wants, and not merely a splendid victory of twenty-three to thirty-six, honourable to the parties, but absolutely useless in the extended scale to bring Bonaparte to his marrow-bones.10 To obtain annihilation, he needed numbers: ‘numbers can only annihilate.’ He constantly worked over his strategic and tactical ideas, without ever losing his flexibility, and was ever ready to pursue his enemy to the end of the earth. At the Nile there was no time for last-minute detailed instructions, unless the element of surprise were to be lost. Everything depended upon the capacity of his captains to interpret the tactical ideas Nelson had discussed with them. When there was time to issue more detailed and particular tactical instructions, however, as there was at Copenhagen, Nelson was careful to do so.
Behind Nelson’s ability to take his officers so completely into his confidence was his own devotion to duty, and his humanity. According to the contemporary biography of Robert Southey, Nelson as a young man, returning from the East Indies an invalid, depressed, and worried about his future without important connections in the Admiralty or at Court, suddenly caught the idea that his patron should be his ‘King and Country’. ‘Well then,’ I exclaimed, ‘I will be a hero, and confiding in Providence, I will brave every danger.’11 Southey’s information is no longer considered to be reliable, but it should be kept in mind that nothing remotely like his anecdotes about Nelson were told about other naval commanders. There must have been enough truth in them to have convinced his contemporaries; Southey’s brother was a distinguished captain in the Navy and saw action at Copenhagen. Nelson was as good as his word, and acquired a reputation for seeking danger. He once wrote to his wife: ‘A glorious death is to be envied; and if anything happens to me, recollect that death is a debt we all must pay, and whether now, or a few years hence, can be but of little consequence.’12 At the battle of Copenhagen he cheerfully remarked to Colonel Stewart, who wrote the most important eyewitness account of the battle, that ‘It is warm work and this day may be the last to us at any moment. But mark you!’ he added, ‘I would not be elsewhere for thousands.’13 However, his own euphoria did not blind him to the need to sustain the morale of others. He agreed with the reprimand administered at Copenhagen to a lieutenant for the manner in which he reported the grounding of two ships: he thought ‘at such a moment, the delivery of anything like a desponding opinion, unasked, was highly reprehensible.’14
His concern for the public service, and determination to ensure that the task in hand was properly done, could be illustrated by many instances. A powerful example of his commitment is provided by the account given by Alexander Briarly, Master of the Bellona. After the battle of Copenhagen, when Nelson was left behind to conduct diplomacy with the Crown Prince’s officers, the Commander-in-Chief, Admiral Sir Hyde Parker, sent a message to him that the Swedish fleet was reported to be at sea. Nelson immediately
ordered a boat to be manned, and without even waiting for a boat cloak (though you must suppose the weather pretty sharp here at this season of the year) and having to row about 24 miles with the wind and current against him, jumped into her and ordered me to go with him, I having been on board to remain till she had got over the Grounds [the shoals south of Copenhagen].
All I had ever seen or heard of him could not half so clearly prove to me the singular and unbounded zeal of this truly great man.
His anxiety in the boat for nearly six hours (lest the Fleet should have sailed before he got on board one of them, and lest we should not catch the Swedish squadron) is beyond all conception.15
His humanity transformed his demanding sense of duty. Prince William Henry, son of King George III, described his meeting with Nelson onboard Admiral Lord Hood’s flagship at New York in 1781.
Captain Nelson, of the Albemarle, came in his barge alongside, who appeared to be the merest boy of a Captain I ever beheld: and his dress was worthy of attention. He had on a full laced uniform: his lank unpowdered hair was tied in a stiff Hessian tail, of an extraordinary length; the old fashioned flaps of his waistcoat added to the general quaintness of his figure, and produced an appearance which particularly attracted my notice; for I had never seen anything like it before, nor could I imagine who he was, nor what he came
