But if the Spanish court had been independent, it would have become us
to have delivered Dumanoir and his captains up to Spain, that they might
have been brought to trial, and hanged in sight of the remains of the
Spanish fleet.
The total British loss in the battle of Trafalgar amounted to 1587.
Twenty of the enemy struck; but it was not possible to
anchor the fleet,
as Nelson had enjoined. A gale came on from the S.W., some of the prizes
went down, some went on shore; one effected its escape into Cadiz;
others were destroyed; four only were saved, and those by the greatest
exertions. The wounded Spaniards were sent
ashore, an
assurance being
given that they should not serve till
regularly exchanged; and the
Spaniards, with a
generous feeling, which would not perhaps have been
found in any other people, offered the use of their hospitals for our
wounded, pledging the honour of Spain that they should be carefully
attended there. When the storm, after the action, drove some of the
prizes upon the coast, they declared that the English who were thus
thrown into their hands should not be considered as prisoners of war;
and the Spanish soldiers gave up their own beds to their shipwrecked
enemies. The Spanish vice-
admiral, Alva, died of his wounds. Villeneuve
was sent to England, and permitted to return to France. The French
Government say that he destroyed himself on the way to Paris, dreading
the consequences of a court-martial; but there is every reason to
believe that the
tyrant, who never acknowledged the loss of the battle
of Trafalgar, added Villeneuve to the numerous victims of his murderous
policy.
It is almost
superfluous to add, that all the honours which a
grateful country could
bestow were heaped upon the memory of Nelson. His
brother was made an earl, with a grant of L6000 a year. L10,000 were
voted to each of his sisters; and L100,000 for the purchase of an
estate. A public
funeral was decreed, and a public
monument. Statues and
monuments also were voted by most of our
principal cities. The leaden
coffin in which he was brought home was cut in pieces, which were
distributed as relics of Saint Nelson,--so the
gunner of the VICTORY
called them; and when, at his internment, his flag was about to be
lowered into the grave, the sailors who assisted at the
ceremony with
one
accord rent it in pieces, that each might
preserve a
fragment while
he lived.
The death of Nelson was felt in England as something more than a
public
calamity; men started at the
intelligence, and turned pale, as if
they had heard of the loss of a dear friend. An object of our admiration
and
affection, of our pride and of our hopes, was suddenly taken from
us; and it seemed as if we had never, till then, known how deeply we
loved and reverenced him. What the country had lost in its great naval
hero--the greatest of our own, and of all former times--was scarcely
taken into the
account of grief. So
perfectly, indeed, had he performed
his part, that the
maritime war, after the battle of Trafalgar, was
considered at an end: the fleets of the enemy were not merely defeated
but destroyed; new navies must be built, and a new race of seamen reared
for them, before the
possibility of their invading our shores could
again be contemplated. It was not,
therefore, from any selfish
reflection upon the
magnitude of our loss that we mourned for him: the
general sorrow was of a higher
character. The people of England grieved
that
funeral ceremonies, and public
monuments, and posthumous rewards,
were all which they could now
bestow upon him, whom the king, the
legislature, and the nation would have alike
delighted to honour; whom
every tongue would have
blessed; whose presence in every village through
which he might have passed would have wakened the church bells, have
given schoolboys a
holiday, have drawn children from their sports to
gaze upon him, and "old men from the chimney corner" to look upon Nelson
ere they died. The
victory of Trafalgar was
celebrated, indeed, with the
usual forms of
rejoicing, but they were without joy; for such already
was the glory of the British navy, through Nelson's surpassing genius,
that it scarcely seemed to receive any
addition from the most signal
victory that ever was achieved upon the seas: and the
destruction of
this
mighty fleet, by which all the
maritime schemes of France were
totally frustrated, hardly appeared to add to our
security or strength;
for, while Nelson was living, to watch the combined
squadrons of the
enemy, we felt ourselves as secure as now, when they were no longer in
existence.
There was reason to suppose, from the appearances upon
opening the