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In the first half of the 18th century, Britain’s future as the world’s leading maritime nation was not yet assured. There was growing public and political support for the acquisition of colonies and the safeguarding of overseas trade by a powerful navy. The fleet had begun to increase significantly in size from the end of the Civil Wars in 1651. In addition, the growth of political stability following the Glorious Revolution of 1688-1689 – which saw James II and VII replaced by his daughter Mary II and her Dutch husband William III of Orange – fostered an increasingly expansionist vision of the country’s destiny.
Yet many challenges remained. Successive administrations were inconsistent in the importance that they attached to the navy. Both Spain and France were persistent commercial and imperial rivals. The Jacobite uprising of 1745, backed by a hostile French government, was a reminder that national security could not be taken for granted.
In these decades, when there were few truly outstanding admirals, Edward Vernon stands out as a promoter of Britain’s naval destiny. He won no great set-piece encounters against other fleets. But he made several important contributions to the rise of British naval mastery.
Vernon’s clear thinking in a number of areas helped shape the increasingly professional navy of the later 18th century. He was a prominent speaker and writer who consistently advocated a ‘blue water strategy’, in which commercial wealth and naval power would be mutually reinforcing. And, for a brief but intense period, Vernon’s seizure of the settlement of Porto Bello in Panama from the Spanish in 1739 made him a national hero, the embodiment of patriotic greatness. Through his endeavours, he made the navy synonymous with Britain’s national self-image.
Apprenticeship at sea
Vernon was not born into a naval family. His father was a government administrator who rose to high office as William III’s secretary of state. Joining the navy in 1700, the 15-year-old Edward entered the service at a time of considerable international tension. In 1701-1714, Britain was part of an alliance aimed at stopping French domination of Europe in the War of the Spanish Succession. On a smaller scale, Britain lent support to Sweden against Denmark, giving the young Vernon his first experience of amphibious warfare in the siege of Copenhagen.
Vernon was fortunate to serve as a junior officer under two significant patrons. Sir George Rooke, with whom he sailed on an unsuccessful mission to take Cadiz, and who would later win fame for his conquest of Gibraltar, awarded him his first commission. In 1704-1705, Vernon was with Admiral Sir Cloudesley Shovell on his flagship in the Mediterranean, taking part in the capture of Barcelona. Shovell’s influence may have helped secure his first appointment to captain a ship, the 28-gun Dolphin, followed soon by the 32-gun Rye. Returning to England in the autumn of 1707, he was fortunate to avoid disaster when Shovell’s flagship, the Association, and several other vessels were lost off the Isles of Scilly.
Over the next two decades, Vernon gained experience of seamanship on assignments in the West Indies and the Baltic. Charged with escorting the new British ambassador to Turkey, he learned something of the complex diplomacy of the Mediterranean world. He involved himself in negotiations to secure the release of British sailors who had been pressed into service in the Venetian navy.
Of more long-term significance for his career, thanks to the family connections and patronage networks that determined 18th-century politics, in 1722 Vernon was elected MP for Penryn in Cornwall. This gave him a national platform from which to expound the case for a strong navy, capable of supporting trade and countering the threat posed by Continental despotisms. These were not original ideas but in Vernon they found an articulate champion whose professional expertise lent him credibility in Parliament.
A national hero
It was the outbreak of hostilities with Spain in October 1739 that made Vernon a figure of national standing. The war arose from a long-running dispute over trading rights in the Americas. British public opinion became increasingly antagonistic towards Spain for blocking access to the commercial opportunities of the New World. Spanish coastguard vessels, the guardacostas, seized British ships and cargoes in the Caribbean, and there were a number of cases of harassment and outright violence. In the most infamous incident, Captain Robert Jenkins claimed to have had his ear cut off in a confrontation with a Spanish boarding party (see box below).
Public pressure drove the peace-loving administration of Sir Robert Walpole, prime minister since 1721 and the dominant political personality of his age, reluctantly to war with Spain. It was a conflict that mixed popular anger and national pride with a struggle for commercial supremacy between two rival empires. The war provided Vernon, appointed by the government to attack Spanish shipping and bases in the Caribbean, with the opportunity to make his mark after years of inactivity.
Vernon was convinced that the key to victory lay in sending small, fast-moving squadrons to mount destructive attacks on Spanish possessions. Prolonged, large-scale actions against heavily fortified settlements were likely to expose the crews to deadly tropical diseases. This had been the fate of Admiral Hosier, who had died in 1727 during an abortive blockade of Porto Bello. Vernon had repeatedly boasted that he could take the port with just six ships. It was the guardacosta headquarters and an important base for Spanish treasure galleons travelling from the Isthmus of Panama to Cuba and then across the Atlantic – described by Vernon with some exaggeration as ‘the only mart for all the wealth of Peru to come to Europe’. Vernon’s appointment was logical, given his competence and experience of the West Indies, but it may also have been a convenient way of sidelining a prominent critic of the government.
The War of Jenkins’ Ear: 1739-1748
One of the strangest incidents ever to lead to war was the testimony of Captain Robert Jenkins that, in 1731, his ship, the merchant vessel Rebecca, had been boarded by a Spanish patrol boat off Cuba, and in the ensuing dispute his ear had been cut off. Seven years later, the British public erupted in outrage when he was reported to have produced the severed appendage, pickled in a jar, while giving evidence to Parliament. In 1740, the ‘War of Jenkins’ Ear’ merged with the wider War of the Austrian Succession, in which Britain and its allies supported the Habsburg ruler, Maria Theresa, against France and Prussia.
If this was the motivation for awarding Vernon the command, it backfired spectacularly. Vernon’s attack on Porto Bello in November 1739 was a classic of improvisation. Approaching the port, he was obliged by the wind direction to focus his attack on the so-called ‘Iron Castle’, a harbour fortress whose garrison was taken by surprise. By concentrating his fire on the fort’s lower batteries, from which the Spanish could have done him the most damage, Vernon was able to put ashore several landing parties. He then sent his ships against Santiago Fortress, sinking a Spanish ship and causing other damage. The defenders surrendered within 24 hours. Although there were no treasure ships to seize, Vernon razed the fortifications – deliberately leaving the town itself unmolested – thus giving more open access to British trade. This had been achieved at a cost of just ten British casualties and with fewer than half the number of ships used in Admiral Hosier’s failed blockade. Vernon also launched a successful assault on the town of Chagres, reducing its fortress, San Lorenzo.
When news of the taking of Porto Bello reached Britain in March 1740, it triggered a remarkable number of celebrations across the country, in places as diverse as London, Bristol, Norwich, Liverpool, Birmingham, Edinburgh, and Glasgow. The patriotic song ‘Rule, Britannia’ – still an expression of intent rather than an accomplished fact – was first sung at this time. Vernon’s birthday in November was the occasion for a further round of bonfires, pageants, and dinners: according to one estimate, there were at least 54 such events in 25 English and Scottish counties.
Many of these festivities were organised by merchants and manufacturers who identified their own economic interests with the admiral’s triumph. Other impulses helped to sustain the popular enthusiasm for two more years. There was a strong component of patriotic feeling, directed against the authoritarian Catholic Spanish enemy and celebrating Vernon as the upholder of British liberties. A burgeoning consumer culture provided a ready market for a variety of mass-produced souvenirs, such as prints, ceramics, medals, and ballads. Vernon’s image was a popular choice for public house signs. Portobello Road in London, with its famous market, was named in honour of his victory. There are also Portobello districts in Edinburgh and Dublin. In an unexpected twist, future US President George Washington’s Virginia estate was named Mount Vernon, as his older brother had served under and admired the admiral.
Not plain sailing
Vernon was unable to follow up the Porto Bello action with comparable success. This was not altogether his own fault. He had strong reservations about a subsequent plan for a major expedition to the region, given the logistical difficulties of supplying a large fleet at such a distance. He was aware, too, of the presence of a Spanish fleet at Havana, which might receive support from a French squadron that had been dispatched to the Caribbean.
There was some justification for the choice of Cartagena, on the Colombian coast, as the target in March 1741. It was a key port for the export of silver; it was less well defended than Havana and to the windward side of the British base at Jamaica. But poor relations between Vernon and Major-General Thomas Wentworth, in charge of the British troops, undermined the expedition’s chances of success. Finding the defences harder to penetrate than expected, the force withdrew, ending the possibility of further amphibious operations in the area. It was not to Vernon’s credit that he manipulated the flow of information back to London to put the blame on the army commander.
Yet the failure scarcely dented Vernon’s tremendous popularity. Porto Bello had transformed the admiral into a major opposition party political figure, his success at sea being widely contrasted with the culpable passivity of the Walpole government. At the next election, Vernon was nominated as a parliamentary candidate in no fewer than six constituencies. Returned to the House of Commons, he insistently made the case for a strong navy and an assertive overseas policy.
Vernon had one more opportunity to play an active role. In 1745, he was appointed to command the Channel Fleet to deter the French navy from supporting the Jacobite royal pretender Prince Charles Edward Stuart, better known as Bonnie Prince Charlie. Although later judgments of the uprising have stressed its underlying organisational weaknesses, at the time it appeared a credible threat. The navy having failed to intercept him at sea, the prince landed in Scotland, defeated a government army at Prestonpans near Edinburgh, and reached Derby, just 145 miles from the capital, before ordering a retreat. There was a brief period when a more resolutely led French naval force might have attempted a landing in Kent.
Vernon’s career ended in disappointment. His proclivity for airing his differences of opinion with his political masters in speech and print ultimately proved his undoing. He was effectively sacked from the navy at the end of 1745. Vernon spent his remaining 12 years in embittered retirement, on his estate near Ipswich, his influence over events steadily diminishing with time.
A lasting legacy
In some ways, Vernon was his own worst enemy, his antagonistic style limiting the impact of his usually well-considered contributions. His advocacy in the 1740s of an actively patrolling squadron, covering the Western Approaches to Britain, had much to commend it. It took advantage of the prevailing westerly winds and the fact that the main French naval bases were on the Atlantic coast, not the Channel. Although there were practical difficulties in sustaining such a fleet, it made sense as a way of protecting British trade, keeping watch for enemy fleet movements and intercepting French ships.
Vernon also endeavoured to improve naval tactics, adding more signal commands to promote greater flexibility once battle was joined. He insisted that individual captains should exercise their own initiative, while taking care to inform them of his plans so that they had a shared understanding of the objectives. Vernon never had the opportunity to put his methods into practice in a major fleet action. However, they were an important influence on the most outstanding commanders of the second half of the century, notably Edward Hawke, victor of the Battle of Quiberon Bay in 1759, and indirectly on Horatio Nelson.
Vernon was a transitional figure in the making of a professional navy. One indicator was dress. He was one of the last senior officers to wear his own choice of clothing, before the introduction of naval uniform from 1748. From his trademark waterproof coat made of grogram, a coarse fabric of silk and wool, came his nickname ‘Old Grog’. This in turn gave rise to the sailors’ name for the watered-down daily ration of rum, served on Vernon’s instructions to promote good order and health among his crews on long voyages. The custom was not abolished until 1970.
Combating the two greatest temptations facing the Georgian sailor – drunkenness and desertion – was an abiding concern of Vernon’s career. In seeking to improve shipboard discipline, he used a range of broadly humane methods, including the reintroduction of daily prayers, improved hospital treatment, and a controlled use of shore leave. Vernon was unusual in his time for opposing impressment of men into the navy. He insisted, too, on professional standards of conduct from officers, being prepared to alienate old comrades who fell short by pushing for their prosecution.
Edward Vernon’s impact was uneven and his defects were as boldly delineated as his virtues. But, more than anyone else in his generation, he placed the Georgian navy at the centre of the national stage, helping to create its indelible public image. By dramatising its role as the principal means of projecting Britain’s power, he laid foundations on which others would build.
Find out more: Quintin Colville and James Davey (ed.) (2013) Nelson, Navy & Nation: the Royal Navy and the British people 1688-1815 (London: Conway) contains an essay by Kathleen Wilson about Vernon. The book links to a permanent gallery of the same name at the National Maritime Museum in Greenwich, which contains a number of artefacts commemorating the admiral.
All images: Wikipedia Commons, unless otherwise stated
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