Representing the Royal Navy

British Sea Power, 1750–1815

Margarette Lincoln

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2017
• ISBN:
  9781351904094
• Edition: 1
• Topic: History
• Subtopic: World History
• Index: History

From the mid 18th century up till after memories of the Napoleonic wars and the glories of 'Nelson's navy' had faded, the Royal Navy was the bulwark of Britain's defence and the safeguard of trade and imperial expansion. While there have been political and military histories of the Navy in this period, looking at battles and personalities, and studies of its administration and the life below decks, this book is the first study of the Navy in a cultural context, exploring contemporary attitudes to war and peace and to ideologies of race and gender. As well as literary sources, Dr Lincoln draws on the vast collections of the National Maritime Museum, in paintings, cartoons, and ceramics, amongst others, to focus attention on material that has hitherto been little used - even research into the general culture of the late-Georgian age has, curiously, neglected perceptions of the Navy, which was one of its major institutions. Individual chapters discuss the attitudes of particular groups towards the Navy - merchants, politicians, churchmen, women, scientists, and the seamen themselves - and how these attitudes changed over the course of the period.

Chapter 1
Introduction

Sea power enabled Britain to dominate world trade and acquire an empire: in the eighteenth century, maritime activity was central to many aspects of society. During this period the Navy was a vital force for national defence, trade protection and imperial expansion. It also had a huge influence on Britons’ understanding of their world. This book focuses on one strand of a much larger picture of war and society during a critical period of civic development and national expansion. Yet the Navy had such influence on public life that a study of its representation adds to our understanding of British culture, cultural politics and the ideology of empire.

I

Since the Navy is no longer such a pervasive force in the public mind, it is useful at the outset to consider how ‘the senior service’ markets itself today when the operations of nuclear-powered submarines are largely secret and surface warships rarely fight pitched battles. Recruiting literature now focuses on the advantages of the Navy as a career, on opportunities for training, travel, and the security of close friendships. The monotony of life at sea is glossed over. An issue of Navy News, for example, might choose to focus on high-speed chases against drug smugglers, defence diplomacy and exercises in such distant locations as South America and the Falklands.¹ In an age when young people are reputed to ‘want it all, now’, the Navy entices school leavers with the possibility that ‘you’ll very likely have seen and done more by the time you’re 20 than many of your friends at home will in the whole of their lives’.² Glossy pictures show immaculate ships in calm seas against a variety of backdrops from ice flows to sunsets. While the literature continues to emphasize the traditional role of the Navy – national defence and trade protection – it now also stresses the Navy’s role in combating environmental disasters such as oil spills, its activities against terrorists, and its humanitarian efforts to help the victims of flood or starvation. Potential recruits are assured that conditions of service are attractive in themselves and that civilian employers will value the skills they have acquired. The literature carefully appeals both to the material impulses of some potential recruits and to the finer feelings of others who might wish to work towards making the planet a less dangerous place. The two lines of thought are neatly summed up in one naval slogan, ‘See the world … differently’. In contrast, other aspects of the media present a less upbeat view of the Navy. There are few opportunities for naval officers to be interviewed on television compared to army officers, and often they merely appear as cautious – though well-briefed – spokesmen of current government policy. In the aftermath of the terrorist attacks on America on 11 September 2001, the Navy briefly hit the headlines in December when it intercepted a cargo ship in the Channel suspected of attempting to carry terrorist material into London. Its traditional role as defender of Britain’s shores seemed once more pertinent as the country faced a new war against terrorism. The press in peacetime is less respectful. ‘Rule the waves? These days we’re lost at sea’ fulminated Jeremy Clarkson, writing for The Sunday Times. The Navy ‘would struggle to gain control of a puddle’, he claimed, while the British have largely lost the sense of being an island nation.³ Less opinionated pieces in the press also present a view of the Navy ‘gone soft’. The Defence Editor of The Times reported proudly in 2001 that the Navy was to make its submarine-hunting Duke class frigates ‘whale and dolphin-friendly’ after discovering that the active sonar used by the frigates had an adverse, sometimes fatal, effect on these mammals. Over £500 million could be spent on developing and installing a new sonar system, and although this would make the fleet more operationally effective, The Times chose to give the story an emphasis that was predominantly environmental. The Ministry of Defence was reported as categorically stating that the difficulty faced by whales and dolphins was one of the key issues considered by the Royal Navy.⁴

In contrast, by the mid-eighteenth century, English naval tradition was already strongly focused. It was identified with the defence of liberty, the protection of national religion and with the prosperity of the nation. On the whole, army officers still enjoyed greater social standing than naval officers. Admiral Vernon, on campaign in the West Indies in 1741, gave a speech to rally his officers in which he admitted that they had long been considered ‘in a secondary light, as Persons of little Consequence out of our own Element’. Yet he looked forward to the day when all men of political influence, of whatever party, would be forced to acknowledge that the Navy and naval officers in particular were ‘the only natural Strength of Great-Britain’.⁵ In fact, Vernon’s campaign had already helped to bring the Navy firmly into the public consciousness. His victory against the Spanish at Porto Bello in 1739 had caught the public imagination, and popular commemorative pottery, first manufactured to mark this event, had been widely circulated. Medals were struck in Vernon’s honour and both his birthday and the anniversaries of his victory were marked as festive occasions. A little later, Anson’s celebrated circumnavigation of 1740–44, which culminated in the taking of a Spanish treasure ship, inspired enormous confidence in the ability of British seamen to help the nation achieve greater international status. Rule Britannia, written by James Thomson, was first performed in 1740 in the masque Alfred, a work which encouraged Britain’s imperial ambitions. The cultural significance that was being invested in the Navy at this time ensured that Rule Britannia immediately struck a chord and became a national song. In 1748, the introduction of naval uniform for sea officers further distinguished the service in the public estimation. A year later, the magnificent Greenwich Hospital was completed as a home for retired seamen and rapidly became synonymous with naval power.

Popular media, including songs and ballads, displayed a burgeoning national pride in naval achievement. Publications aimed at a more sophisticated audience occasionally reflected tension between aggressive and humanitarian impulses and displayed signs of ambivalence regarding the ruthless use of naval power in the pursuit of empire, but these were in a minority. The execution in 1745 of Lieutenant Phillips of the Anglesea for surrendering his ship to the French – prefiguring the more notorious case of Admiral Byng in 1757, who was also executed for failing to fight with sufficient vigour – made the character of the naval officer a talking point.⁶ Arguably, the event increased public expectation of the Navy while making officers themselves all the more eager to avoid accusations of cowardice. The ordinary sailor, too, began to be seen in an increasingly favourable light. Back in the 1740s, Vernon did much to help this process. His published speeches to his officers contain such flourishes as: ‘Remember you have the good fortune to command one of the bravest Classes of Men, such as do not know what Fear is; who will perform that in Sport, which scarce any Reward would induce others to attempt.’⁷ Over the years, the ordinary seaman, so often a problematic, potentially disruptive figure, was made safe and acceptable as ‘Jack Tar’, a caricature that glossed over his moral laxity and capacity for violence. It was this figure that was repeatedly celebrated in popular song, theatre and prints. Although the image of Jack Tar showed a capacity to change over time, and occasionally featured in prints with a radical undertone, it never entirely broke free from the sentimentality with which it had originally been invested.

II

In this period, the Navy became a more attractive career to potential officers. Service as a commissioned officer in the Royal Navy was one of the few professions in which a man without an independent income could maintain himself as a gentleman, apparently working for the public good rather than for private gain. The ethos of command in the Navy became more paternalistic in the course of the eighteenth century, mirroring the sense in civilian society that professionals (as distinct from aristocrats, who were often accused of doubtful morality), were becoming the repositories of social virtues (demonstrating a greater sense of public responsibility). Increasingly, then, the Navy appealed to men of good family and to the younger sons of the landed classes, especially those who needed a career to support them. In wartime, the Navy was a prime means of social mobility: individuals moved up the ranks more quickly as officers fell in battle and those who were fortunate enough to capture enemy prizes could find themselves with enough capital to purchase land. The basic pay for naval officers was not good. Between 1747 and 1807, the pay of a captain of a first rate rose from £28 to £32 4s. per lunar month, and since a captain’s pay depended on the size of ship he commanded, those in smaller ships received less. During most of the period, though, Britain was at war and men could hope for prize money. High-ranking naval officers also had access to power structures beyond those operating on board ship. Since important commands were likely to be political decisions, many sought a seat in the House of Commons where they could hope to influence such decisions; consistently in this period around 4 per cent of Members of Parliament were seamen.⁸ The rewards given to lesser members of a ship’s crew only became a cause of real dissatisfaction towards the end of the century when, in a period of inflation, pay for seamen in the Navy fell behind peacetime wages in merchant ships. After the naval mutinies in 1797, there was an increase in seamen’s pay and yet another in 1806. Therefore between 1747 and 1808 an able seaman’s pay rose from 22s. 6d. to 32s. per lunar month (net of fixed deductions).

The Navy increased in size and importance. During the Seven Years War there were on average 74 800 men serving in the Navy. This number increased in successive conflicts until at the height of the Napoleonic War in 1805 it had risen to 120 000 – a number caused by a proportionate growth in naval tonnage. The British public was used to the idea of war but had no experience of war at first hand because actual conflict took place at sea or in other continents. In consequence, there was a gulf between the experience of civilians and that of fighting men. While this certainly affected the representation of the Navy, it should not lead us ultimately to underestimate the effect of war on British society. Between one in seven and one in eight British adult males of military age were engaged in the American war.⁹ The social impact of the great struggle against France was even more substantial: it is estimated that by 1803 over one in five of the population of Britain capable of bearing arms were engaged in some form of military service.¹⁰ The magnitude of the war effort exacerbated existing tensions in society. The effect of war on most people’s lives in this period, including such things as the loss of manpower across the country and the sight of mutilated servicemen, has never been explored to the same extent as for the two World Wars in the twentieth century. But for areas of the country where naval recruitment was traditionally strong, social disruption and trauma were inevitable. In an age of poor communications, many people entered the Navy never to be heard from again. Overall losses at sea from battle and shipwreck were considerable in all conflicts of the period, and an even greater number of seamen died from disease. According to Dudley Pope, during the French Revolutionary and Napoleonic Wars the Navy lost 1875 men in action, 13 600 from shipwreck and 72 000 from disease or accident.¹¹

During the 1790s when the Navy rapidly expanded and needed men desperately, only a small percentage of seamen were true volunteers.¹² More than half the average crew was obtained by press-gangs.¹³ Warships, isolated from society, formed their own rigid communities subject to naval discipline. At the same time, the seamen, drawn from different parts of the British Isles, forged a common identity which, while they were together, overlaid regional and other local identities. The Navy abroad therefore constituted a projection of ‘Britishnessness’ which some contemporaries appreciated and were keen to cultivate. Perceptions of the Navy at home, though, often reflected contested definitions of patriotism and the difficulties of establishing a coherent national identity.

Britain maintained its capacity for waging war through efficient taxation. Warship construction and the maintenance of the fleet were both high-cost operations and vast sums were needed for the Navy. The government reaped the benefits of this heavy investment: the growth of Britain’s economic power paralleled the growth of its professional navy. Perceptions of the Navy have to be set against the prevalent mercantilist ideology, which assumed that a relationship existed between international trade and the military power of the state that required careful attention. Britain became the dominant naval power largely because it was able to deploy more sh...