A History of War in 100 Battles. Richard Overy

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      This painting of the Battle of Valmy by the French artist Horace Vernet (1789–1863) was commissioned in the 1820s by the future King Louis-Philippe. The image of the windmill became the standard view of the battlefield, reproduced in numerous prints and pictures commemorating the victory.

      Any visitor to London standing in Trafalgar Square and gazing up at the tall column at its centre may well wonder why the British named such a prominent landmark after a small southern Spanish cape, lapped by the cool Atlantic on the Costa de la Luz. The column supports the slender statue of Admiral Horatio Nelson, almost certainly Britain’s most famous sailor, whose smaller fleet defeated a large Franco-Spanish naval force in a bitter day-long engagement in 1805, at the height of the Napoleonic Wars. Even more remarkable for a battle in which leadership played a critical part, Nelson himself was mortally wounded early in the fight and died before it was over.

      The battle was in many ways accidental. In the summer of 1805, Napoleon planned the invasion of England across the Channel from Boulogne and Calais. A large army gathered there, but by August it still lacked the naval superiority necessary to give invasion any chance of success. An alliance with Spain earlier in the year might have given Napoleon the large naval force that he needed, but the British naval blockade kept the Franco-Spanish forces divided. When Napoleon ordered Vice Admiral Pierre Villeneuve to gather a fleet together from the scattered units, the best that could be achieved was the safety of the Spanish port of Ferrol and, later, Cádiz. Napoleon flew into a rage at the apparent timidity of his naval commander – ‘What a navy! What an admiral! What useless sacrifices!’ – but the truth was that French and Spanish ships were not fully prepared for combat, many lacking trained men, or in some cases even men who had been to sea. Villeneuve knew that command of the British fleet sent to prevent an invasion force from gathering had been given to Nelson, victor at the battles of the Nile in 1798 and Copenhagen in 1801. Nelson’s reputation preceded him: a shrewd tactician and a brave and aggressive admiral. Unsurprisingly, Villeneuve, and the even less enthusiastic Spanish commander, Admiral Federico Gravina, were reluctant to risk a major battle. When a frustrated Napoleon finally abandoned the invasion, he ordered the combined Franco-Spanish fleet to leave Cádiz for Naples, where it could support the French army preparing for war against a new anti-French Coalition. The Spanish commanders objected to risking a fight and even Villeneuve’s own subordinates hoped that battle could be avoided. The French commander finally persuaded the fleet to leave by arguing that Nelson had only twenty-two ships to the Franco-Spanish force of thirty-three. With a poor wind the ships straggled out of port on 19 October, where Nelson’s advance guard spotted them.

      Battle was still not inevitable. Villeneuve was supposed to be heading for Naples, already knowing that he was to be sacked and humiliated by his emperor. The ships made an untidy line towards the Straits of Gibraltar, forcing Nelson to pursue them. He had planned a classic operation in which the long Franco-Spanish line would be pierced by two columns of ships that would then encircle the enemy and destroy them in a ‘pell-mell’ battle. The French attempt to flee to the Mediterranean might mean no such operation was possible. Despite the poor winds, the Franco-Spanish fleet passed Cabo Trafalgar and could see the possibility of safety. All at once, in mid-morning, Villeneuve decided to throw caution to the wind. He ordered the fleet to turn, prepare battle stations and engage with the oncoming British. The manoeuvre was carried out in no particular order and the ships eventually emerged in small groups rather than an ordered line, the northernmost squadron under Rear-Admiral Pierre Dumanoir out of touch with the main area of the battle that followed.

      Nelson was delighted with the prospect of battle, but puzzled by the unusual Franco-Spanish battle order. He ordered his two columns to form, one under his command, one under Vice Admiral Cuthbert Collingwood. He ordered an unusually long signal to be hoisted, since immortalized in the Nelson saga: ‘England expects that every man will do his duty.’ The signal provoked roaring cheers from the ships around him. Battle-stations were prepared and at 11.30 a.m. the first British ships sailed for the enemy line. Nelson in Victory finally let the Téméraire enter the fray ahead of him; Collingwood’s Royal Sovereign led the assault further to the west against the end of the enemy line. The British fleet boasted 2,148 guns, including the heavy carronades designed to rake the enemy deck and smash the masts, against 2,568 of the enemy; there were 30,000 sailors and marines in the Franco-Spanish fleet, 17,000 in Nelson’s. But the British ships had commanders with greater experience, gun crews who understood the terrible demands of an artillery duel at sea, and a confidence that the enemy did not possess. When Nelson finally spotted Villeneuve’s flagship Bucentaure, he changed the direction of his charge and under heavy fire from the French ships, steered straight for his opposite number.