Sailor Mouth Saturday: Nelson's Blood

Today is a special occasion, a holiday in the truest sense of that word, for those of us who live and breathe  nautical history. On this day in 1758 Admiral Horatio 1st Viscount Nelson was born in Burnham Thorpe, Norfolk, England. Perhaps the greatest naval hero of modern times, it would take the U.S. another 50 plus years to produce his like in the person of Admiral David Farragut. And we've had some awesome naval heroes on this side of the pond, let me tell you.

But I digress. To honor The Great One, Triple P will stray a bit from the usual SMS format and give you a shanty instead. A shanty, that is, written to commemorate Nelson's life and tragic death. Known alternatively as "Nelson's Blood" or "The Golden Chariot", the song became popular among English speaking seaman not long after Nelson's death in 1805.

The phrasing, as with most sea songs, is repetitive and easy to sing. Various versions of the song exist (find my favorite, by The Corsairs, on their album "Songs from the Road" available for download here) but they all refer to Nelson's blood. Legend has it that the Admiral's body was packed in a barrel of rum for transport home aboard his flagship Victory. Men were said to sneak swigs from the barrel in order to gain a bit of Nelson's greatness. Thus rum took on the moniker: Nelson's Blood.

While the story may hold some truths, most of it is probably apocryphal Be that as it may, the shanty is a wonderful way to remember Admiral Nelson. It's also great to sing while hoisting a tankard of Nelson's blood.

A drop of Nelson's blood wouldn't do us any harm,
A drop of Nelson's blood wouldn't do us any harm,
A drop of Nelson's blood wouldn't do us any harm;
And we'll all hang down behind.

So we'll roll the Golden Chariot along,
We'll roll the Golden Chariot along,
We'll roll the Golden Chariot along;
And we'll all hang down behind.

The image is of men following Nelson's funeral wagon to the place of his burial, which many a Royal Navy sailor by land at the time did. Various other stanzas become more bawdy as they go, referring to things that "wouldn't do us any harm" such as a night in jail, a saucy wench and a fat old cook. The chorus of following the Golden Chariot continues throughout and most singers of the shanty end with the drop of Nelson's blood refrain.

So, a mug o' grog and a hearty Huzzah! for Admiral Nelson. Happy Saturday, Brethren. May fair winds follow you, and your Nelson's blood always be the best of quality.

Header: The Apotheosis of Nelson by Pierre-Nicola LeGrand c 1818 via Wikipedia

Seafaring Sunday: Nelson's Blood

Oh, a drop of Nelson's blood wouldn't do us any harm; Oh, a drop of Nelson's blood wouldn't do us any harm; Oh, a drop of Nelson's blood wouldn't do us any harm; And we'll all hang down behind.  So we'll roll the golden chariot along; And we'll roll the golden chariot along; So we'll roll the golden chariot along; And we'll all hang down behind.

~ from the chanty Nelson's Blood which became popular after his death at Trafalgar

Header: Olivier as a dying Nelson from the film That Hamilton Woman

Booty: Memento Mori

The beautiful ring at the header is one of a scant 58 gold and enamel mourning rings minted by Salter of London in 1805. The rings were ordered to commemorate the death of Admiral Horatio Lord Nelson at the Battle of Trafalgar which took place on this date 206 years ago. Distributed to only close relatives, friends and pallbearers at the great man’s funeral, you can bet that Emma Lady Hamilton was not one of the lucky few who received such a treasure.


As noted at Marine Antique Digest from which the image comes, the ring bears the initials N and B with a Viscount’s crown over the N and a ducal coronet over the B. The initials represent Nelson’s name and his title as Duke of Bronte which he favored to the point of signing his letters Nelson & Bronte.

The ring is also engraved with Trafalgar and, along the outside of the band, Palmem Qui Meruit Ferat ~ Let him bear the palm of victory. The inside of the band reads Lost to his Country 21 Oct 1805 Aged 47.

This very rare ring was recently sold at a marine sale for $14,455 U.S. and is currently on display at Soho House in London.

My thanks to the delightful Susan and Loretta over at Two Nerdy History Girls for the heads up on this in their Breakfast Links of Sunday last.

History: A Last Letter

Tomorrow marks the 206th anniversary of the Battle of Trafalgar and the death of Admiral Horatio Lord Nelson. For those of us who live and breathe the history of seafaring, this is a hallowed event indeed.


But, though Joseph Conrad told us that exalt was a word that seemed to be created for Nelson, still the Admiral was – in the end – just a man. Examples of this fact are everywhere in the history: his careless treatment of his wife’s feelings, his over-the-top infatuation with Emma Hamilton, his reckless if successful audacity and his sincere affection for his daughter, Horatia.

The girl who was named after her father was born on January 29th in 1801. She was one of a pair of twins born to Emma Hart Hamilton as a result of her ongoing and scandalously open liaison with Nelson. Emma, being neither the brightest nor the most steadfast of individuals, felt she could not raise two daughters. Horatia’s twin was secreted away to a foundling hospital before Nelson returned from a cruise; the girl is rarely spoken of in literature about Nelson, Lady Hamilton, or for that matter Horatia.

Horatia was little better off than her abandoned sister, as it turned out. She was initially told that Nelson and Emma had adopted her. Emma recanted this story, telling Horatia her father was Nelson but that she was not the child’s mother. Horatia clung to this fiction for many years, no doubt at the very least resentful of her impoverished youth taking care of a bloated and besotted Emma. Eventually Horatia found happiness, or one hopes so anyway. She married the Reverend Philip Ward in 1822, and the pair went on to have 10 children. Horatia survived her husband and lived to the ripe old age of 80.

She seems to have spent very little memorable time with her father but they did carry on a charming if brief correspondence that terminated with one of the last personal letters Nelson wrote. The series of extant letters amounts to four, all of which are available online here (note that admiralnelson.org appears to have the dates of the last three letters incorrect, placing them in 1804 rather than 1805). All four letters were written aboard HMS Victory and have an affectionate tone that brings to mind a father very much missing his child.

The last letter is exceedingly poignant, particularly in hindsight. Its simplicity makes it even more so. I shall quote it here and say simply, Huzzah! for Lord Nelson:

Aboard Victory, 19 October, 1805


My dearest Angel,


I was made happy by the pleasure of receiving your letter of September 19th and I rejoice that you are so very good a girl, and love my dear Lady Hamilton, who most dearly loves you. Give her a kiss for me.


The Combined Fleets of the Enemy are now reported to be coming out of Cadiz and therefore I answer your letter, my dearest Horatia, to mark that you are ever uppermost in my thoughts. I shall be sure of your prayers for my safety, conquest and speedy return to dear Merton and our dearest, good Lady Hamilton.


Be a good girl; mind what Miss Connor says to you.


Receive, my dearest Horatia, the affectionate parental blessing of your Father.


Nelson & Bronte


Header: Horatia Nelson, posed very much like her mother, by an unknown artist; portrait in the National Maritime Museum, Greenwich

People: The Birth of Jove

In her letters to Sarah Nelson, one of the few Nelsons who could tolerate that Hamilton woman, Emma Hamilton repeatedly referred to Horatio Nelson as Jove. While in life he was not so lofty a figure among his countrymen, in death he truly became something of a god.


Born on this day in 1758, the Hero of Trafalgar became the focus of not only a nation’s gratitude but of their curiosity as well. Figuring out what the enigmatic Admiral had been about became a minor obsession with many of the ladies and gentlemen of London’s elite. One of the more popular pseudo-sciences of the era, personology, was repeatedly applied to Nelson posthumously in this generally futile pursuit.

Personology, or the study of birth dates, sprang from the philosophical teachings of Hegel, the father of German Idealism. Hegel, who was perhaps one of the first philosophers to posit the theory that time is not linear, rejected stiff applications of time-based units in history. This was taken a step further by those who leached money from the well-to-do on the pretence of knowing the future and reading minds. Personologists rejected the old standard of astrology and claimed to be able to understand and advise an individual based on their birth date.

Personology and, more appropriately, the study of birth dates, is still practiced today. The most extensive treatise in recent years is The Secret Language of Birthdays by Gary Goldschneider and Joost Elffers. Drawing on both modern understanding and historical descriptions, the book is surprisingly instructive, particularly when one looks at a life from the past, such as Admiral Nelson’s. From the book:

Those born on September 29 fight an ongoing battle to maintain stability in their lives. At times they can feel that they are masters of the universe and at other moments not worthwhile at all. Such swings in their mood and self-image are most often due to an underlying lack of self-confidence.

While at first glance this may seem not to apply to Nelson at all, further insight makes such a statement quite plausible in his case. He certainly had a well developed ego by the time he died fighting at Trafalgar. Doubtless, however, his humble origins made him feel the need to constantly prove himself better than men who, though equals in naval rank, may have come from far more lofty circumstances.

Those born on this day… can oscillate between very intense and very relaxed behavior.

Of course Nelson’s professional and personal life, particularly later in his career, were so polarized as to be almost unimaginable at the time. His scandalous, ongoing affair with Emma Hamilton made him a laughing stock in polite society. But no one dared to laugh in the Admiral’s face out of respect, awe and fear.

The final sentence in the book’s September 29 entry sums Nelson up nicely:

If, however, the unusual people born on this day can take the reigns of their career firmly in hand, without foundering or getting sidetracked, they are indeed capable of extraordinary achievements.

In Nelson’s case, even a major derailment in love did not seem to alter his focus. The brilliant seaman would live and die under the standard of his most famous quotation: “Never mind maneuvers, always go at them.” Those who did not know him intimately would be left to consult astrologers and personologists in an effort to understand where so much greatness originated.

Header: Admiral Lord Horatio Nelson, artist unknown, via Napoleon Bonaparte

Booty: Remembering Nelson

To close out Nelson week I’d like to talk about clothes. I’m “punny” like that. Above is a lovely picture of the uniform coat (complete with medals) that Admiral Horatio Lord Nelson was wearing during the Battle of Trafalgar. It is in tact, just as it was when it was stripped from him as he was carried below after being shot by that French sharpshooter. There are visible traces of blood on the lining and left sleeve which are most likely not Nelson’s but John Scott’s. Scott was Nelson’s secretary and was killed at Trafalgar prior to Nelson’s shooting. For those of us who adore the sea and its history, this thing is quite literally a holy relic.

Nelson requested that the coat, along with a lock of his hair and other personal items, be given to Emma Hamilton. This did, in fact, occur despite one of Nelson’s brothers turning the Admiral’s request into a set-to with his mistress. Emma kept the coat but eventually gave it to a “friend”. Most historians agree it was used to settle a debt. The coat, which is sometimes listed as an “undress” uniform although certain writers claim that the presence of medals and an Admiral’s red satin sash (now lost) make it in fact a “dress coat”, is housed in the National Maritime Museum, London. Find more views here.

After Trafalgar, Britain went into extravagant mourning. Nelson became a savior figure, giving his life for the safety of his countrymen, and reminders of his greatness sprang up in some of the most unlikely places. Throughout the social season of 1806, for instance, it was the height of fashion for ladies to wear an evening headdress known as a “Trafalgar turban”. These would be simple creations of fabric made of white satin or blue crepe (the most popular, particularly for married women) with a white satin band upon which was embroidered “Trafalgar”. Generally simple, the turbans would have looked very similar to this one worn by French painter Elisabeth Vigee-Lebrun in this self-portrait:The memory did not fade by half, particularly among the ladies. When more extravagant “bum pads” or what the French would call a cul-de-sac, became popular after 1815, the things almost inexplicably became known as “Nelsons”. Whether this was a derogatory reference to Emma (who, it must be admitted, had a pretty wide caboose by the time she hooked up with Horatio) or some other now forgotten nod is impossible to say. There is a certain humor to it regardless. Maybe Nelson was an ass man? Anyway, for a picture and description of the “bustles” as they were used at the time, click over to Jessamyn’s Regency Costume Companion’s Underthings page.

Finally, you may have noted the handsome pen and ink piece now (and permanently) decorating the “Piratical Fact of the Week” section at right.

This incredible piece of art (click to enlarge) was given to me by the artist herself, Cristina Urdiales from Malaga, Spain. I met Cristina and her mates Juan and Jose this summer and was absolutely thrilled beyond words to share a glass and a wonderful evening. You can find more of Cristina’s enchanting work at her sketch blog Been There, Drawn That. Hit the follow button while you’re there. She is truly talented. Oh, and as serendipitous as this is, the piece depicts HMS Royal Sovereign, the flagship of Vice-Admiral Sir Cuthbert Collingwood from which he acted as second in command at Trafalgar. How fitting is that?

History: Trafalgar Day

On this day in 1805, the British fleet commanded by Admiral Horatio Lord Nelson engaged a combined flotilla of French and Spanish men-of-war off Cape Trafalgar. In the most decisive naval battle of the Napoleonic Wars, Nelson’s Navy soundly defeated the enemy effectively ending any hopes Napoleon may have had for supremacy at sea or invasion of Britain.

Here is an excerpt from the daily log of HMS Euryalus made after the battle by her Captain, Charles Collingwood:

The action began at twelve o’clock, by the leading ships of the column breaking through the enemy’s line, the Commander in Chief about the tenth ship from the vanguard, the Second in Command about the twelfth from the rear, leaving the van of the enemy unoccupied; the succeeding ships breaking through, in all parts, astern of their leaders, and engaging the enemy at the muzzles of their guns; the conflict was severe. The enemy’s ships were fought with a gallantry highly honourable to their Officers, but the attack on them was irresistible and it pleased the Almighty Disposer of all events to grant his Majesty’s arms a complete and glorious victory.

About three P.M. many of the enemy’s ships having struck their colours, their line gave way. Admiral Gravina, with ten ships joining their frigates to leeward, stood towards Cadiz. The five headmost ships in the van tacked and standing to the Southward, to windward of the British line, were engaged, and the sternmost of them taken: the others went off, leaving his Majesty’s squadron nineteen ships of the line.

After such a Victory, it may appear unnecessary to enter into encomiums on the particular parts taken by the several Commanders. The conclusion says more on the subject than I have the language to express. The spirit which animated all was the same; when all exerted themselves zealously in their country’s service, all deserve that their high merits should stand recorded; and never was high merit more conspicuous than in the battle I have described.

Of course Nelson, who insisted both on commanding HMS Victory on deck and wearing his full Admiral’s uniform complete with medals, was shot and killed during the battle. In a few short hours a hero made martyr became a legend. As the epitaph on his monument in Guildhall, London puts it:

The period of Nelson’s fame can only be the end of time.

For a very personal experience of all things Nelson, visit Mark Coggins’ blog post from whence I collected the picture at the header of Saturday’s post. I enjoyed Mark’s ruminations on the wax figure of the Admiral at the Nelson Museum.

Want more in depth and fascinating first hand information about the Battle of Trafalgar? Visit The Dear Surprise and find a wealth of engrossing information on all things Royal Navy and O’Brian. You may just lose yourself for the day.

Header: A modern imagining of Nelson aboard Victory before Trafalgar

Ships: The Hero Of Trafalgar

HMS Victory, or the one that is docked at Portsmouth today, is the seventh ship in the British service to carry that fortuitous name. No sailor would argue with the good sense of giving a ship a moniker that identifies her as a winner right out of dry dock. That’ll bring you luck, sure.

As is typical of her class, Victory was an enormous floating world that could hold a crew of over 800 men and an almost unfathomable variety of guns. When she fought the Battle of Trafalgar she carried two 68 pounders (remember, that is the size of the ball the gun could discharge), twenty-eight 42 pounders, twenty-eight 24 pounders, twenty-eight 16 pounders and sixteen 6 pounders. She displaced 2,160 tons.

Victory, a first rate line-of-battle ship (or “ship of the line”) was designed by Sir Thomas Slade and built at Chatham Dockyard. She was launched in 1765. At that time, however, she was still incomplete and she was not properly commissioned until 1778 when France declared her intention to lend her fighting strength, including ships and sailors, to the American Revolution. Victory entered her first engagement that July as the flagship for the Channel Fleet, fighting in the Battle of Ushant.

She returned to Ushant in 1780 where she earned fame by capturing a French convoy off the coast. Admiral Howe chose her as his flagship in 1782 when he led a flotilla to relieve the siege of Gibraltar. The next year saw the end of British/French aggressions and Victory returned to Portsmouth, where she sat “in ordinary” (with her spars and masts taken down and only a skeleton crew to maintain her) for eight years.

By 1793 she was back in service, this time as the flagship of Admiral Sir John Jervis at the head of the Mediterranean Fleet during the Napoleonic Wars. On February 14, 1795, Jervis intercepted a large Spanish convoy and engaged them at the Battle of Cape St. Vincent. He took two Spanish flagships and three smaller Spanish ships during the battle with the loss of only 9 British lives. The efforts of an as yet relatively unknown Captain by the name of Horatio Nelson had a great deal to do with Jervis’ resounding success.

Though Victory was put up as a prison hospital ship in 1800, she was soon missed and rebuilt. In 1803 Captain Thomas Hardy took command of her and she returned to the Mediterranean where she became the flagship of now Vice-Admiral Lord Nelson’s fleet. She cruised the Mediterranean and the Atlantic Ocean on the hunt for French Vice-Admiral Pierre Villeneuve’s fleet which had the potential to invade England. The animosity between the two brilliant Admirals came to a head off Cadiz at the Battle of Trafalgar on October 21, 1805.

The outcome of the battle was, of course, a decisive win for the British and the end of any real naval threat to England from the French. Nelson was shot by a French sniper while commanding on the deck of Victory. Taken below, he expired once he was told that 15 French and Spanish ships had been captured and that the British would surely win the day. Packed in a barrel of rum, Nelson’s body returned home aboard Victory. She achieved Sheerness on December 22nd, having lost 57 of her crew (including Nelson) with 102 wounded.Victory, though she has never been decommissioned, almost instantly became something like a floating shrine to the great British hero that Nelson had already become. She was eventually docked at Portsmouth, where she sits today as part of the Portsmouth Maritime Museum which also includes the Tudor warship Mary Rose. Here she can teach generations about a time when Britain ruled the waves. A fitting retirement for one of the greatest ships in British history.

Pictures: Painting of HMS Victory in Battle by Chris N. Wood; photo of Victory today via bbc.co.uk

Booty: Hollywood vs Reality

As I mentioned in the comments on Monday, I went to town with the screen grabs from That Hamilton Woman and now I have nothing to do with them. Friday Booty to the rescue! Above is a lovely still of Emma and Horatio at a ball. Of course her costume is wrong for the period that the two were lovers but I've a sneaking suspicion that Regency gowns were probably too "simple" for the movie, so they went with the full blown Georgian fashions. One other point before we move on: everything is sparkly in this movie.

Even the battle scenes. Here are some Frenchies getting ready to fire on the British. The striped shirts give their nationality away.

Here's a particularly heroic portrait of Nelson done around the time he and Emma fell for one another. He's not quite Laurence Olivier, is he? Please note the chelengk in his hat, which he was given after the Battle of the Nile. That was made entirely of diamonds and if the costumers got nothing else right in That Hamilton Woman, they outdid themselves on Nelson's chelengk.

Look at it; gorgeous. The eye patch was a bit of a problem, I guess. The dresser kept forgetting which eye gave Nelson trouble. Since he was only blind in the eye - it wasn't like he had an empty socket, pirate-style - you can imagine their confusion.

This is Nelson's favorite portrait of Emma. As I understand it, he took it to sea and had it with him when he died. She is handsome, but it is obvious that she is no longer the nymph painters like Reynolds clambered for. Those cheeks are chubby indeed.

And here's Emma from the Carnival scene in the movie. My favorite thing about this still is her jewels. Her necklace and earbobs sport diamond Ns. Click the pic to enlarge.

Happy Friday, Brethren. I'm off to spend a vacation day with the family. See you tomorrow for Sailor Mouth Saturday.

Movies: That Naval Hero

That Hamilton Woman, the 1941 British production staring Vivien Leigh as Emma Harte Hamilton and Laurence Olivier as Horatio Nelson, is another example of twisted history used as a thin veil for modern issues. The production is lavish if a bit slap-dash and both Leigh and Olivier are gorgeous in a way that neither Hamilton nor Nelson were during their scandalous affair.

The story is almost ridiculously familiar, but it is muddled up to such a degree in the film that I quit paying attention to the details and just marvelled at the costumes and scenery. That sentence, I realize, doesn't speak well of the film at all and perhaps I am being too harsh. Having said that, I find that familiar stories, on film, in books, etc., that creep particularly far away from historical accuracy tend to be boring. And so, unfortunately, is Alexander Korda's narrative.

Emma meets Horatio when she has only just married the many-years-her-senior Ambassador to Naples, William Hamilton (Alan Mowbray, appropriately wry and jaded). Though this arrangement seems to suit her, she cannot help being swept off her feet by the handsome sea Captain who is not only young but has both arms and two good eyes. It's baffling, really, since part of the charm of the Hamilton/Nelson affair was that they met and fell in love not because they were both young and lovely but because of sincere mutual attraction. He was a beat up husk of a man and she was a chubby former nymph who had quite obviously been passed around when he sailed into Naples harbor and swept her off her feet. I guess the movies have to have their glamour.

And That Hamilton Woman is nothing if not glamorous. The sets and costumes are gorgeous, the acting, as you would expect, is spectacular and the special effects during the Battle of Trafalgar scenes are particularly breathtaking:
The film won an Oscar for Best Sound and even today it is easy to see why. Hearing the balls fly during battle is overwhelming. Certainly, it must be very close to what the real experience would have sounded like.

It is too little too late, however. Prior to the big battle, Lord Hamilton slips into obscurity (he in fact died with both Emma and Horatio at his side) once the action moves to England. Horatio is briefly confronted by his wife, the long suffering Frances Nesbitt (a properly prune-faced Gladys Cooper), who has been taking care of his wheelchair-bound father Reverend Nelson (Halliwell Hobbes; hilarious) all these long years. And of course there is the child Horatia, who Emma "registers" as the daughter of "...Horatio Thompson, a sailor". No mention is made of Horatia's poor twin sister, left at a foundling home because Emma couldn't handle two babies. Then, ever so mysteriously, Nelson retires and he and the still thin and lovely Emma move on to an estate in the country.

The whole point of the movie, and the focus of many an unfortunate and distracting speech about tyranny and mother England, is that the Nazis are out there. So, of course, Nelson must come out of retirement and win the Battle of Trafalgar with Bonaparte a handy substitute for Hitler. The inevitable occurs. Nelson is shot by a French sniper and his death throes and final speech are artfully filmed through gauze and gels. Of course he wants the Admiralty to look after Emma. They don't and she is driven from her estate, finally ending up a penniless drunk in Calais, steeling booze and going to debtors' prison. Because we all know the worst will happen to bad girls like Emma.

Here is the link to the IMDb page for That Hamilton Woman, if you've an interest. The movie is certainly worth putting in the Netflix queue. It's visually charming and it is a treat to watch married lovers Leigh and Olivier play off one another on screen. But as films about history go, this one is more fiction that fact.