TRAFALGAR

BATTLE OF.—The most glorious and splendid naval engagement ever achieved by the British navy. The French had 18 and the Spaniards 15 ships of the line; the British had 27 ships. Several of the enemies’ Admirals were taken prisoners. The following is Southey’s fine description of the death of England’s greatest naval hero. He says:— “Nelson having despatched his busine at Portsmouth, endeavoured to elude the populace by taking a by-way to the beach, but a crowd collected in his train, pre ing forward to obtain a sight of his face: many were in tears, and many knelt down before him, and ble ed him as he pa ed. England has had many heroes, but never one who so entirely po e ed the love of his fellow-countrymen as Nelson. All men knew that his heart was as humane as it was fearle ; that there was not in his nature the slightest alloy of selfishne or cupidity; but that, with perfect and entire devotion, he served his country with all his heart, and with all his soul, and with all his strength; and therefore they loved him as truly and as fervently as he loved England. They pre ed upon the parapet to gaze after him when his barge pushed off, and he returned their cheers by waving his hat. The sentinels who endeavoured to prevent them from trespa ing upon this ground, were wedged among the crowd; and an officer who, not very prudently upon such an occasion, ordered them to drive the people down with their bayonets, was compelled speedily to retreat; for the people would not be debarred from gazing till the last moment upon the hero—the darling hero of England! 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 ve els, 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 expre ed 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 expre ion 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 suppre 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 impo ible. 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 impo ible 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 Colling wood 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 nece ity 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, unle 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. Ki me, Hardy,” said he. Hardy knelt down and ki ed 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 ki ed his forehead “Who is that?” said Nelson; and being informed, he replied, “God ble 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.”