MY DEAR SIR,—I wrote to my dear Sarah a few lines when I sent my first dispatches to the Admiralty, which account I hope will satisfy the good people of England, for there never was, since England had a fleet, such a combat. In three hours the combined fleet were annihilated, upon their own shores, at the entrance of their port, amongst their own rocks. It has been a very difficult thing to collect an account of our success, but by the best I have twenty-three sail of the line surrendered to us, out of which three, in the furious gale we had afterward, being driven to the entrance of the harbour of Cadiz, received assistance and got in; these were the Santa Anna, the Algeziras, and Neptune (the last since sunk and lost); the Santa Anna's side was battered in. The three we have sent to Gibraltar are the San Ildefonso, San Juan Nepomuceno, and Swiftsure; seventeen others we have burnt, sunk, and run on shore, but the Bahama I have yet hope of saving; she is gone to Gibraltar. Those ships which effected their escape into Cadiz are quite wrecks; some have lost their masts since they got in, and they have not a spar or a store to refit them. We took four admirals—Villeneuve the commander-in-chief, Vice-Admiral D'Alava, Rear-Admiral Cisneros, Spanish, and Magon, the French admiral, who was killed—besides a great number of brigadiers (commanders). D'Alava, wounded, was driven into Cadiz in the Santa Anna; Gravina, who was not taken, has lost his arm (amputated I have heard, but not from him); of men, their loss is many thousands, for I reckon in the captured ships we took twenty thousand prisoners (including the troops). This was a victory to be proud of; but in the loss of my excellent friend, Lord Nelson, and a number of brave men, we paid dear for it; when my dear friend received his wound, he immediately sent an officer to me to tell me of it, and give his love to me. Though the officer was directed to say the wound was not dangerous, I read in his countenance what I had to fear; and before the action was over Captain Hardy came to inform me of his death. I cannot tell you how deeply I was affected, for my friendship for him was unlike anything that I have left in the Navy, a brotherhood of more than thirty years; in this affair he did nothing without my counsel; we made our line of battle together, and concerted the mode of attack, which was put into execution in the most admirable style. I shall grow very tired of the sea soon; my health has suffered so much from the anxious state I have been in, and the fatigue I have undergone, that I shall be unfit for service. The severe gales which immediately followed the day of victory ruined our prospect of prizes; our own infirm ships could scarce keep off the shore; the prizes were left to their fate, and as they were driven very near the port, I ordered them to be destroyed by burning and sinking, that there might be no risk of their falling again into the hands of the enemy. There has been a great destruction of them, indeed I hardly know what, but not less than seventeen or eighteen, the total ruin of the combined fleet. To alleviate the miseries of the wounded, as much as in my power, I sent a flag to the Marquis Solano, to offer him his wounded. Nothing can exceed the gratitude expressed by him, for this act of humanity; all this part of Spain is in an uproar of praise and thankfulness to the English. Solano sent me a present of a cask of wine, and we have a free intercourse with the shore. Judge of the footing we are on, when I tell you he offered me his hospitals, and pledged the Spanish honour for the care and cure of our wounded men. Our officers and men, who were wrecked in some of the prize ships, were received like divinities; all the country was on the beach to receive them; the priests and women distributing wine, and bread and fruit among them; the soldiers turned out of their barracks to make lodging for them, whilst their allies, the French, were left to shift for themselves, with a guard over them to prevent their doing mischief. After the battle I shifted my flag to the Euryalus frigate, that I might the better distribute my orders; and when the ships were destroyed and the squadron in safety, I came here, my own ship being totally disabled; she lost her last mast in the gale. All the northern boys, and Graydon, are alive; Kennicott has a dangerous wound in his shoulder; Thompson is wounded in the arm, and just at the conclusion of the action his leg was broken by a splinter; little Charles is unhurt, but we have lost a good many youngsters. For myself, I am in so forlorn a state, my servants killed, my luggage, what is left, is on board the Sovereign, and Clavell[16] wounded. I have appointed Sir Peter Parker's[17] grandson, and Captain Thomas, my old lieutenant, post captains; Clavell, and the first lieutenant of the Victory, made commanders; but I hope the Admiralty will do more for them, for in the history of our Navy there is no instance of a victory so complete and so great. The ships that escaped into Cadiz are wrecks; and they have neither stores nor inclination to refit them. I shall now go, as soon as I get a sufficient squadron equipped, and see what I can do with the Carthagenians; if I can get at them, the naval war will be finished in this country. Prize-money I shall get little or none for this business, for though the loss of the enemy may be estimated at near four millions, it is most of it gone to the bottom. Don Argemoso, who was formerly captain of the Isedro, commanded the Monarca, one of our captures; he sent to inform me he was in the Leviathan, and I immediately ordered, for our old acquaintance sake, his liberty on parole. All the Spaniards speak of us in terms of adoration; and Villeneuve, whom I had in the frigate, acknowledges that they cannot contend with us at sea. I do not know what will be thought of it in England, but the effect here is highly advantageous to the British name. Kind remembrances to all my friends; I dare say your neighbour, Mr.—— will be delighted with the history of the battle; if he had been in it, it would have animated him more than all his daughter's chemistry; it would have new strung his nerves, and made him young again. God bless you, my dear sir, may you be ever happy; it is very long since I heard from home.
I am, ever, your most truly affectionate,
CUTHBERT COLLINGWOOD.
I have ordered all the boys to be discharged into this ship; another such fight will season them pretty well. Brown is in perfect health. We had forty-seven killed, ninety-four wounded.
Great efforts were made to get all the people out of the disabled vessels before they drifted ashore. It is really splendid to read the official account of the deeds of bravery of our fine fellows risking their own lives to save the lives of those they had defeated. Seven days after the battle, the Victory arrived at Gibraltar, and although her masts had been shot away and her hull badly damaged, she was refitted and sailed for England on the 4th November, the same day that the straggling Dumanoir and his ships fell into the hands of Sir Richard Strachan in the Bay of Biscay.
XIV
On the Victory's arrival at Spithead with Nelson's remains aboard, preserved in spirits, the body was taken out and put in a leaden coffin filled with brandy and other strong preservatives. On the arrival of the Victory at the entrance of the Thames, the body was removed, dressed in the Admiral's uniform, and put into the coffin made out of the mainmast of L'Orient and presented to Nelson some years before by Captain Hallowell. It was then put into a third case, and on the 9th January, 1806, after lying in state for three days, the remains were buried in St. Paul's.
The imposing demonstrations of sorrow could not be excelled. Parliament voted a monument in St. Paul's Cathedral, and others were erected in all the principal towns in England and Scotland. There were neither material honours nor eulogies great enough to express the gratitude that was felt throughout the United Kingdom for the late Admiral's achievements. His widow, whom he had not seen for years, and from whom he was definitely parted, was granted £2,000 per annum for life. His brother was made an Earl, with a perpetual income of £6,000 a year, and £15,000 of national money was voted to each of the sisters, while £100,000 was given for an estate to be attached to the title. The human legacy left by Nelson of Emma Hamilton and their daughter Horatia were not mentioned, though he seems to have implored Heaven and earth in their behalf. Obviously, the Government felt that they dare not be generous to everybody, even though it were Nelson's dying injunction. Collingwood, who had as much to do with the triumph of Trafalgar as Nelson himself, without making any ado about it, was treated pretty much like a provincial mayor. The mayor, of course, may and often does adopt a luxurious Roman style of living in order that his local deeds may not escape observation, but such self-advertisement was entirely foreign to Collingwood's character. It was fitting that every reasonable honour should have been paid to the memory of a great Englishman, whose deeds, in co-operation with others, have never been surpassed. But to make grants and give honours of so generous a character to Nelson's relatives, and especially to his wife, who had been a torment to him, and to measure out Collingwood's equally great accomplishments with so mean a hand, is an astonishing example of parsimony which, for the sake of our national honour, it is to be hoped rarely occurs. Even the haughty, plethoric nobles of a fourth-rate town council (if it be not a libel to mention them in connection with so discreditable an affair) would have judged the manifest fitness of things better than to make any distinction between Admiral Collingwood and his lifelong friend Nelson.
Surely this famous and eminently worthy public servant was as deserving of an Earldom as was Nelson's brother, and his wife and daughters of a more generous allowance than that of his dead chief's widow and sisters!—this distinguished man, who helped to plan the order of battle at Trafalgar and was the first to take his ship into action in a way that inflamed the pride and admiration of the Commander-in-Chief, and made him spontaneously exclaim, "See, Blackwood, how that noble fellow Collingwood takes his ship into battle! How I envy him!"
No one knew as well as Nelson that his comrade, next to himself, was to play the leading part in not only assuring a victory, but in completely annihilating the French and Spanish fleets. Yet the British Government of that day only counted the services he had rendered to the nation worthy of a peerage, plus the same pension as Nelson's widow; i.e. he was to have a pension of £2,000 a year, and after his death Lady Collingwood was to have the munificent sum of £1,000 per annum and each of his two daughters £500 a year. He never drew his pension, as they kept him in the service he had made so great until he was a physical wreck. He died on his way home aboard the Ville de Paris on the 7th March, 1810, and was laid to rest in St. Paul's Cathedral alongside of his distinguished friend Lord Nelson.