It had been part of Nelson’s prayer, that the British fleet might be distinguished by humanity in the victory which he expected. Setting an example himself, he twice give orders to cease firing on the Redoubtable, supposing that she had struck, because her guns was silent; for, as she carried no flag, there was no means of instantly ascertaining the fact. From this ship, which he had thus twice spared, he received his death. A ball fired from her mizen-top, which, in the then situation of the two vessels, was not more than 15 yards from that part of the deck where he was standing, struck the epaulette on his left shoulder, about a quarter after one, just in the heat of action. He fell upon his face, on the spot which was covered with his poor secretary’s blood. Hardy, who was a few steps from him, turning round, saw three men raising him up. “They have done for me at last, Hardy,” said he. “I hope not,” cried Hardy. “Yes” he replied, “my back-bone is shot through.” Yet even now, not for a moment losing his presence of mind, he observed, as they were carrying him down the ladder, that the tiller ropes, which had been shot away, were not yet replaced, and ordered that new ones should be rove immediately: then, that he might not be seen by the crew, he took out his handkerchief, and covered his face and his stars. Had he but concealed these badges of honour from the enemy, England, perhaps, would not have had cause to receive with sorrow the news of the battle of Trafalgar. The cockpit was crowded with wounded and dying men, over whose bodies he was with some difficulty conveyed, and laid upon a pallet in the midshipmen’s berth. It was soon perceived, upon examination, that the wound was mortal. This, however, was concealed from all except Captain Hardy, the Chaplain, and the medical attendants. He himself being certain, from the sensation in his back, and the gush of blood he felt momently within his breast, that no human care could avail him, insisted that the surgeon should leave him, and attend to those to whom he might be useful; “for,” said he, “you can do nothing for me.” All that could be done was to fan him with paper, and frequently to give him lemonade to alleviate his intense thirst. He was in great pain, and expressed much anxiety for the event of the action, which now began to declare itself. As often as a ship struck, the crew of the Victory hurrahed, and at every hurrah, visible expression of joy gleamed in the eyes, and marked the countenance of the dying hero. But he became impatient to see Hardy; and as that officer, though often sent for, could not leave the deck, Nelson feared that some fatal cause prevented him, and repeatedly cried, “Will no one bring Hardy to me? he must be killed! he is surely dead!” An hour and ten minutes elapsed from the time when Nelson received his wound, before Hardy could come to him. They shook hands in silence, Hardy in vain struggling to suppress the feelings of that most painful and yet sublime moment. “Well, Hardy,” said Nelson, “how goes the day with us?” “Very well,” replied Hardy; “ten ships have struck, but five of the van have tacked, and show an intention to bear down upon the Victory. I have called two or three of our fresh ships round, and have no doubt of giving them a drubbing.” “I hope,” said Nelson, “none of our ships have struck.” Hardy answered, “there was no fear of that.” Then, and not till then, Nelson spoke of himself. “I am a dead man, Hardy,” said he; “I am going fast; it will be all over with me soon. Come nearer to me. Let my dear Lady Hamilton have my hair, and all other things belonging to me.” Hardy observed, that he hoped Mr. Beatty could yet hold out some prospect of life. “Oh! no,” he replied; “it is impossible. My back is shot through. Beatty will tell you so.” Hardy then once more shook hands with him, and with a heart almost bursting, hastened upon deck.
By this time all feeling below the breast was gone, and Nelson, having made the surgeon ascertain this, said to him: “You know I am gone. I know it. I feel something rising in my breast,” putting his hand on his left side, “which tells me so.” And upon Beatty’s inquiring whether his pain was very great, he replied, “so great that he wished he was dead. Yet,” said he, in a lower voice, “one would like to live a little longer too!” And after a few minutes, in the same undertone, he added: “What would become of poor Lady Hamilton if she knew my situation!” Next to his country she occupied his thoughts. Captain Hardy, some fifty minutes after he had left the cockpit, returned, and again taking the hand of his dying friend and commander, congratulated him on having gained a complete victory. How many of the enemy were taken he did not know, as it was impossible to perceive them distinctly, but 14 or 15 at least. “That’s well,” cried Nelson, but “I bargained for 20.” And then, in a stronger voice, he said: “Anchor, Hardy, anchor.” Hardy, upon this, hinted that Admiral Collingwood would take upon himself the direction of affairs. “Not while I live, Hardy,” said the dying Nelson, ineffectually endeavouring to raise himself from the bed: “do you anchor.” His previous orders for preparing to anchor had shown how clearly he foresaw the necessity of this. Presently calling Hardy back, he said to him in a low voice, “Don’t throw me overboard;” and he desired that he might be buried by his parents, unless it should please the King to order otherwise. Then reverting to private feelings: “Take care of my dear Lady Hamilton, Hardy; take care of poor Lady Hamilton. Kiss me, Hardy,” said he. Hardy knelt down and kissed his cheek; and Nelson said, “Now I am satisfied. Thank God I have done my duty!” Hardy stood over him in silence for a moment or two, then knelt again and kissed his forehead “Who is that?” said Nelson; and being informed, he replied, “God bless you, Hardy.” And Hardy then left him for ever. Nelson now desired to be turned upon his right side, and said, “I wish I had not left the deck; for I shall soon be gone.” Death was, indeed, rapidly approaching. He said to the Chaplain, “Doctor, I have not been a great sinner;” and after a short pause, “Remember that I leave Lady Hamilton and my daughter Horatia as a legacy to my country.” His articulation now became difficult; but he was distinctly heard to say, “Thank God, I have done my duty!” These words he repeatedly pronounced, and they were the last words which he uttered. He expired at thirty minutes after four, three hours and a quarter after he had received his wound.”
TRAKTIR BRIDGE, BATTLE OF.—Fought during the Crimean campaign, between the French and Sardinian forces, and the Russians—
“The garrison of Sebastopol having failed, on the 2nd of August, in a desperate attempt to forces the Allied lines by the Woronzoff Road, remained inactive only in appearance. They were ready for a new Balaclava and a new Inkerman all in one, so far as the strategic movement is concerned. In August the Tchernaya is fordable at many points, well known, of course, to the enemy. On the 16th of that month they debouched from the Tchouliou Heights, and descended to the Tchernaya, in the neighbourhood of Traktir-bridge. Behind this bridge rise, at a little distance, the Fediukine hills, on which rested the rear of the French army, which now faced about. To their right were the Sardinians,—to theirs the Turks. Beyond the river, and under Tchouliou hills is a valley, along which swarmed the Russian masses, driving the outposts of the Sardinian Bersaglieri, or sharp-shooters. About 1500 Zouaves and Chasseurs guarded the bridge: they were attacked by 10,000 Russians, under General Read. For an hour the 1500 held the 10,000 beneath the storm of artillery which pound upon their dense columns from one English battery and from the Sardinian and French artillery. At last, the Russians swarmed over the fords, forced the bridge, and slowly pushed the brave Zouaves up the hill; but executed this movement painfully, out of breath, in disorder, and rent by ordnance. At the hill’s brow the main body of the French received in their openings comrades worthy of Leonidas, who, turning, and now backed by strong columns, charged bayonets down the declivity. Twice the enemy rallied, but in vain. The Sardinians and French made a final rush, and drove them with carnage upon their supports, who were thus disarrayed. The artillery reopened, and the battle was won. General Scarlett’s dragoons came up at this moment, but General Pelissier deemed pursuit unwise. The enemy retired on Mackenzie’s Farm. He left on the field a quantity of fascines, planks, beams, ladders, and sappers’ tools, destined to destroy the works of the besiegers. He left also 2500 dead; and 1620 of his wounded were that night in the ambulances of the French, who took, in addition, 500 prisoners. They themselves lost 180 killed, and 810 wounded—chiefly on and near the bridge. This great battle occurred the day succeeding the First Napoleon’s natal anniversary, and the fête-day of the French Empire. It was on that very morning that the Queen of England set out to pay the first Royal visit ever made by English Monarch to a Sovereign of that warlike dynasty. It seemed as if events both in the East and in the West were conspiring to raise to the highest point the glory of the Napoleon destinies at one and the same hour.”
TREBIA, BATTLE OF.—Fought between Hannibal and the Romans. Hannibal taking advantage of the well known impetuosity of the Romans, sent over at first a detachment of 1000 horse. These pretending defeat, hastily recrossed the river, followed by the main body of the Romans. By this means the defeat of the Romans was insured. Benumbed with wading up to their armpits in water, they became an easy prey to their enemies; 26,000 were either slain, or drowned in attempting to cross the river.
TRINCOMALEE.—Taken from the Dutch by the English in 1782. Retaken by the French same year; restored to the Dutch in 1783. Surrendered to the British, under Colonel Stewart, August 26th, 1795, and was confirmed by the peace of Amiens in 1802. Of a series of actions fought off Trincomalee, between Sir Edward Hughes and the French Admiral Suffrein, one was fought February 18th, 1782, the enemy having 11 ships and the British 9. On April 12th following, they had 18 to 11 ships, and on July 6th, same year, they had 15 to 12 ships. Yet, in every one of these battles, the French suffered severe defeats.
TRIPLE ALLIANCE.—This celebrated party alliance between the States General and England against France, was for the protection of the Netherlands (Holland and Belgium). Sweden afterwards joined the alliance, January 28th, 1668.
TRIUMPH.—On the day appointed, the General, crowned with laurels, pronounced an oration to the soldiers and surrounding multitude, relating his military achievements; then the march began with a long procession, in which were carried inscriptions, containing the names of the nations, provinces, or cities, he had conquered; the priests assisted, leading the beasts used for sacrifice. The conqueror, in an ivory car, richly ornamented, closed the procession. He was surrounded by his friends and relations, bearing branches of laurel; the procession stopped at the Capitol, where they sacrificed to Jupiter, and deposited part of the spoils. The lustre of the Roman conquests was often tarnished by their inhumanity to the conquered; their prisoners, if of high rank, were only reserved to suffer superior mortifications; the captive Monarchs and Generals were bound in chains, their heads closely shaven (a mark of peculiar degradation), and they were thus presented a sad spectacle to the gazing multitude.