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Action of 18 June 1793

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Action of 18 June 1793
Part of the French Revolutionary Wars

Nymphe and Cleopatre, Nicholas Pocock
Date18 June 1793
Location
Result British victory
Belligerents
 Great Britain  France
Commanders and leaders
Edward Pellew Jean Mullon 
Strength
1 frigate 1 frigate
Casualties and losses
50 killed and wounded 63 killed and wounded
1 frigate captured

The action of 18 June 1793 was one of the most celebrated encounters between British and French frigates during the French Revolutionary Wars. The action occurred off Start Point in Devon, when the British frigate HMS Nymphe encountered and chased the French frigate Cléopâtre. During the previous month, Cléopâtre and another frigate, Sémillante, had been successfully raiding British merchant shipping in the English Channel and Eastern Atlantic from their base at Cherbourg-en-Cotentin. In response, the British frigates Nymphe and HMS Venus had been ordered to intercept and defeat the French frigates and on 27 May Venus and Sémillante fought an inconclusive engagement off Cape Finisterre.

On 17 June, Nymphe was cruising alone off the Devon coast under Captain Edward Pellew when a sail appeared to the south east. Closing to investigate, Pellew rapidly identified the ship as Cléopâtre and gave chase, the French frigate initially fleeing but Captain Jean Mullon then turning to fight as Nymphe began to overtake his ship. At 06:15, with both crews cheering loudly, the frigates exchanged broadsides, the action lasting 50 minutes. Both ships fought hard, but at 07:10 the British crew were able to successfully board the French frigate and haul down the tricolour. Mullon was mortally wounded in the engagement, and his crew lost 63 casualties compared to 50 on board Nymphe. Pellew returned to Britain with his prize, the first major French warship captured during the conflict, and was proclaimed a hero.

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  • The French Revolution: Crash Course World History #29

Transcription

Hi, my name is John Green, this is Crash Course World History and today we’re going to talk about The French Revolution. Admittedly, this wasn’t the French flag until 1794, but we just felt like he looked good in stripes. [vertical = slimming] As does this guy. Huh? So, while the American Revolution is considered a pretty good thing, the French Revolution is often seen as a bloody, anarchic mess—which— Mr. Green, Mr. Green! I bet, like always, it’s way more complicated than that. Actually no. It was pretty terrible. Also, like a lot of revolutions, in the end it exchanged an authoritarian regime for an authoritarian regime. But even if the revolution was a mess, its ideas changed human history— far more, I will argue, than the American Revolution. [Intro music] [intro music] [intro music] [intro music] [intro music] [intro music] [intro music] Right, so France in the 18th century was a rich and populous country, but it had a systemic problem collecting taxes because of the way its society was structured. They had a system with kings and nobles we now call the ancien regime. Thank you, three years of high school French. [and Meredith the Interness] And for most French people, it sucked, [historical term] because the people with the money— the nobles and the clergy— never paid taxes. So by 1789, France was deeply in debt thanks to their funding the American Revolution— thank you, France, [also for Goddard and The Coneheads] we will get you back in World Wars I and II. And King Louis XVI was spending half of his national budget to service the federal debt. Louis tried to reform this system under various finance ministers. He even called for democracy on a local level, but all attempts to fix it failed and soon France basically declared bankruptcy. This nicely coincided with hailstorms that ruined a year’s harvest, [ah, hail] thereby raising food prices and causing widespread hunger, which really made the people of France angry, because they love to eat. Meanwhile, the King certainly did not look broke, as evidenced by his well-fed physique and fancy footwear. He and his wife Marie Antoinette also got to live in the very nice Palace at Versailles thanks to God’s mandate, but Enlightenment thinkers like Kant were challenging the whole idea of religion, writing things like: “The main point of enlightenment is of man’s release from his self-caused immaturity, primarily in matters of religion.” [while smacking folks in face w/ glove] So basically the peasants were hungry, the intellectuals were beginning to wonder whether God could or should save the King, and the nobility were dithering about, eating fois gras and songbirds, [I'd rather eat cake, personally] failing to make meaningful financial reform. In response to the crisis, Louis XVI called a meeting of the Estates General, the closest thing that France had to a national parliament, which hadn’t met since 1614. The Estates General was like a super parliament made up of representatives from the First Estate, the nobles, the Second Estate, the clergy, and the Third Estate, everyone else. The Third Estate showed up with about 600 representatives, the First and Second Estates both had about 300, and after several votes, everything was deadlocked, and then the Third Estate was like, “You know what? Forget you guys. [expletive deleted] We’re gonna leave and we’re gonna become our own National Assembly.” This did not please King Louis XVI. [everything can't be an eclair, Lou] So when the new National Assembly left the room for a break, he locked the doors, and he was like, "Sorry, guys, you can't go in there. And if you can't assemble, how you gonna be a national assembly?" […and with that, mischief managed!] Shockingly, the Third Estate representatives were able to find a different room in France, [D'oh!] this time an indoor tennis court where they swore the famous Tennis Court Oath. [Like McEnroe? You can't be serious..] And they agreed not to give up until a French constitution was established. So then Louis XVI responded by sending troops to Paris primarily to quell uprisings over food shortages, but the revolutionaries saw this as a provocation, so they responded by seizing the Bastille Prison on July 14th, which, coincidentally, is also Bastille Day. The Bastille was stormed ostensibly to free prisoners— although there were only seven in jail at the time— but mostly to get guns. But the really radical move in the National Assembly came on August 4, when they abolished most of the ancien regime. -- feudal rights, tithes, privileges for nobles, unequal taxation, they were all abolished -- in the name of writing a new constitution. And then, on August 26th, the National Assembly proclaimed the Declaration of Rights of Man and Citizen, which laid out a system of rights that applied to every person, and made those rights integral to the new constitution. That’s quite different from the American bill of rights, which was, like, begrudgingly tacked on at the end and only applied to non-slaves. The DoRoMaC, as I called it in high school, declared that everyone had the right to liberty, property, and security— rights that the French Revolution would do an exceptionally poor job of protecting, but as noted last week, the same can be argued for many other supposedly more successful revolutions. Okay, let’s go to the Thought Bubble. Meanwhile, back at Versailles, Louis XVI was still King of France, and it was looking like France might be a constitutional monarchy. Which might've meant that the royal family could hang on to their awesome house, but then, in October of 1789, a rumor started that Marie Antoinette was hoarding grain somewhere inside the palace. And in what became known as the Women's March, a bunch of armed peasant women stormed the palace and demanded that Louis and Marie Antoinette move from Versailles to Paris. Which they did, because everyone is afraid of armed peasant women. ["hell hath no rath" and all] And this is a nice reminder that to many people at the time, the French Revolution was not primarily about fancy Enlightenment ideas; it was mostly about lack of food and a political system that made economic contractions hardest on the poor. Now, a good argument can be made that this first phase of the revolution wasn’t all that revolutionary. The National Assembly wanted to create a constitutional monarchy; they believed that the king was necessary for a functioning state and they were mainly concerned that the voters and office holders be men of property. Only the most radical wing, the Jacobins, called for the creation of a republic. But things were about to get much more revolutionary— and also worse for France. First, the Jacobins had a huge petition drive that got a bit unruly, which led troops controlled not by the King but by the national assembly to fire on the crowd, killing 50 people. And that meant that the National Assembly, which had been the revolutionary voice of the people, had killed people in an attempt to reign in revolutionary fervor. You see this a lot throughout history during revolutions. What looked like radical hope and change suddenly becomes "The Man" as increasingly radical ideas are embraced. Thanks, Thought Bubble. Meanwhile, France’s monarchical neighbors were getting a little nervous about all this republic business, especially Leopold II, who in addition to being the not holy not roman and not imperial holy roman emperor, was Marie Antoinette’s brother. I should note, by the way, that at this point, the Holy Roman Empire was basically just Austria. Also, like a lot of monarchs, Leopold II liked the idea of monarchies, and he wanted to keep his job as a person who gets to stand around wearing a dress, pointing at nothing, owning winged lion-monkeys made out of gold. [must've been a real partier, that one] And who can blame him? So he and King William Frederick II of Prussia together issued the Declaration of Pilnitz, which promised to restore the French monarchy. At this point, Louis and the National Assembly developed a plan: Let’s invade Austria. [always a solid plan?] The idea was to plunder Austria’s wealth and maybe steal some Austrian grain to shore up French food supplies, and also, you know, spread revolutionary zeal. But what actually happened is that Prussia joined Austria in fighting the French. And then Louis encouraged the Prussians, which made him look like an enemy of the revolution, which, of course, he was. And as a result, the Assembly voted to suspend the monarchy, have new elections in which everyone could vote (as long as they were men), and create a new republican constitution. Soon, this Convention decided to have a trial for Louis XVI, who was found guilty and, by one vote, sentenced to die via guillotine. Which made it difficult for Austria and Prussia to restore him to the throne. Oh, it’s time for the open letter? [musical chairs undefeated champ rolls] An Open Letter to the Guillotine. But first, let’s see what’s in the secret compartment today. Oh, there’s nothing. Oh my gosh, Stan! Jeez. That’s not funny! [That's what Anne Boleyn said…] Dear Guillotine, I can think of no better example of Enlightenment thinking run amok. Dr. Joseph Guillotine, the inventor of the guillotine, envisioned it as an egalitarian way of dying. They said the guillotine was humane and it also made no distinction between rich or poor, noble or peasant. It killed equally. You were also celebrated for taking the torture out of execution. But I will remind you, you did not take the dying out of execution. [or have a self-cleaning function] Unfortunately for you, France hasn’t executed anyone since 1977. But you’ll be happy to know that the last legal execution in France was via guillotine. Plus, you’ve always got a future in horror movies. Best wishes, John Green The death of Louis XVI marks the beginning of The Terror, the best known or at least the most sensational phase of the revolution. I mean, if you can kill the king, you can kill pretty much anyone, which is what the government did under the leadership of the Committee of Public Safety (Motto: We suck at protecting public safety) led by Maximilien Robespierre. The terror saw the guillotining of 16,000 enemies of the revolution including Marie “I never actually said Let them eat cake” Antoinette and Maximilien Robespierre himself, who was guillotined in the month of Thermidor in the year Two. Oh, right. So while France was broke and fighting in like nine wars, the Committee of Public Safety changed the measurements of time because, you know, the traditional measurements are so irrational and religion-y. So they renamed all the months and decided that every day would have 10 hours and each hour 100 minutes. And then, after the Terror, the revolution pulled back a bit and another new constitution was put into place, this one giving a lot more power to wealthy people. At this point, France was still at war with Austria and Britain, wars that France ended up winning, largely [lol] thanks to a little corporal named Napoleon Bonaparte. The war was backdrop to a bunch of coups and counter coups that I won’t get into right now because they were very complicated, but the last coup that we’ll talk about, in 1799, established Napoleon Bonaparte as the First Consul of France. And it granted him almost unlimited executive power under yet another constitution. By which he presumably meant that France’s government had gone all the way from here to here to here. As with the American revolution, it’s easy to conclude that France’s revolution wasn’t all that revolutionary. I mean, Napoleon was basically an emperor and, in some ways, he was even more of an absolute monarch than Louis XVI had been. Gradually the nobles came back to France, although they had mostly lost their special privileges. The Catholic Church returned, too, although much weaker because it had lost land and the ability to collect tithes. And when Napoleon himself fell, France restored the monarchy, and except for a four-year period, between 1815 and 1870, France had a king who was either a Bourbon or a Bonaparte. Now, these were no longer absolute monarchs who claimed that their right to rule came from God; they were constitutional monarchs of the kind that the revolutionaries of 1789 had originally envisioned. But the fact remains that France had a king again, and a nobility, and an established religion and it was definitely not a democracy or a republic. And perhaps this is why the French Revolution is so controversial and open to interpretation. Some argue the revolution succeeded in spreading enlightenment ideals even if it didn’t bring democracy to France. Others argue that the real legacy of the Revolution wasn’t the enhancement of liberty, but of state power. Regardless, I’d argue that the French Revolution was ultimately far more revolutionary than its American counterpart. I mean, in some ways, America never had an aristocracy, but in other ways it continued to have one— the French enlightenment thinker, Diderot, felt that Americans should “fear a too unequal division of wealth resulting in a small number of opulent citizens and a multitude of citizens living in misery.” And the American Revolution did nothing to change that polarization of wealth. What made the French Revolution so radical was its insistence on the universality of its ideals. I mean, look at Article 6 of the Declaration of the Rights of Man and Citizen: “Law is the expression of the general will. Every citizen has a right to participate personally, or through his representative, in its foundation. It must be the same for all, whether it protects or punishes.” Those are radical ideas, that the laws come from citizens, not from kings or gods, and that those laws should apply to everyone equally. That’s a long way from Hammurabi— and in truth, it’s a long way from the slaveholding Thomas Jefferson. In the 1970s, Chinese President Zhou Enlai was asked what the affects of the French Revolution had been. And he said, “It’s too soon to say.” And in a way, it still is. The French Revolution asked new questions about the nature of people’s rights and the derivation of those rights. And we’re still answering those questions and sorting through how our answers should shape society today. —must government be of the people to be for the people? Do our rights derive from nature or from God or from neither? And what are those rights? As William Faulkner said, “The past is never dead. It’s not even past.” Thanks for watching. I’ll see you next week. Crash Course is produced and directed by Stan Muller, our script supervisor is Danica Johnson, the show is written by my high school history teacher Raoul Meyer and myself, our graphics team is Thought Bubble, [If you <3 our graphics, Blame Canada!] and we are ably interned by Meredith Danko. [dba: The Interness or MTVCS] Last week’s phrase of the week was "Giant Tea Bag" [seriously, it totally was] If you want to suggest future phrases of the week, or guess at this week's you can do so in comments, where you can also ask questions about today’s video that will be answered by our team of historians. Thanks for watching Crash Course, and as we say in my hometown, don’t forget, Metal Ball, I Can Hear You. [slides out like an ace photobomber] [music outro] [music outro]

Background

In February 1793, the National Convention that governed the French Republic expanded the ongoing French Revolutionary Wars by declaring war on Great Britain and the Dutch Republic.[1] The light vessels of the British Royal Navy had been preparing for the conflict for several months, having concentrated in June 1792 at Spithead in anticipation of the outbreak of war. These ships were stationed in large numbers in the North Sea and the English Channel to defend British maritime trade against the threat of French commerce raiders operating from the French Channel ports.[2] The French Navy by contrast was riven with the same social divisions that had divided France in the aftermath of the French Revolution four years earlier. This had led to the collapse of the professional officer corps and the elimination of the rank of trained seamen-gunners on the grounds of elitism, resulting in a dearth of experience both in seamanship and naval combat.[3]

To counter their disadvantages, the French Navy operated several well-armed frigates from their Channel and Atlantic ports to intercept and disrupt the movement of British trade. Two of the most successful vessels in the early months of the war were the frigates Cléopâtre and Sémillante under Captains Jean Mullon and Gaillard respectively and based at Cherbourg-en-Cotentin on the Cotentin Peninsula. In response to the depredations of French raiders, the Royal Navy stationed two frigates at Falmouth. The selected ships were HMS Venus under Captain Jonathan Faulknor and HMS Nymphe under Captain Edward Pellew.[4] Pellew was a highly experienced officer who had been commended for his service in the American Revolutionary War, during which he fought at the Battle of Valcour Island on Lake Champlain, as an engineering officer at the Battle of Saratoga and later in European waters in command of a frigate.[5] He was accompanied on board Nymphe by his younger brother Commander Israel Pellew, who was at the time an unemployed reserve officer enlisted as a volunteer aboard his brother's ship.[6]

Action of 27 May 1793

Two single decked sailing warships exchange fire side by side on a choppy sea beneath dark skies. In the distance the silhouette of another ship approaches
Action between HMS Venus and the Semillante, 27 May 1793, oil on canvas by Thomas Elliott, c. 1793–1800

At 01:00 on 27 May, 375 nautical miles (694 km) north west of Cape Finisterre, lookouts on Venus sighted a ship and closed with the strange vessel, which was soon determined to be Sémillante. Gaillard's ship weighed 940 long tons (955 t), more than 200 tons larger than the 722 long tons (734 t) British vessel, and carried 40 guns mounting a 279 lb broadside to the 38-gun, 222 lb broadside of Venus.[6] Despite the disparity, Faulknor determined on combat and at 04:30 the frigates were close enough to exchange long-range shot, the firing becoming more general at 08:00.[7] For two hours the battle continued as the ships drifted closer to one another, until Gaillard attempted to break off the action and escape: his ship was severely damaged and casualties were mounting.[8] Initially it seemed that Faulknor would be able to prevent Gaillard's ship from escaping by keeping pace with the retreating Sémillante, but as he prepared to fire a second broadside into the retreating French ship a new sail appeared, belonging to a large ship flying the French tricolour.[9] With his sails and rigging damaged, Faulknor could not compete against both Sémillante and the newcomer and fell back as the French ships linked up. The new arrival, later identified as the Cléopâtre, chased Venus but Faulknor was able to make use of a strengthening breeze to escape, eventually rejoining Nymphe on 29 May at which point Cléopâtre broke off the chase.[4] The British frigates subsequently shadowed the French vessels northwards, chasing them into Cherbourg in the first week of June.[10]

The engagement cost Faulknor two men killed and 20 wounded, with his ship's rigging and sails badly torn but the hull undamaged. The larger Sémillante was more seriously battered, with twelve killed and 20 wounded, severe damage to the sails and rigging and at least 5 feet (1.5 m) of water in the hold.[8] Faulknor was praised in subsequent histories for causing so much damage despite the disparity in size between his ship and the French frigate, although some contemporary histories misidentified the opponent as either Engageante or Proserpine.[9] The most important outcome of the engagement was that Sémillante was forced to undergo extensive repairs, leaving Cléopâtre to continue to commerce raiding operations alone.[11]

Battle

On 17 June, after escorting the battered Venus back to Falmouth and collecting fresh supplies, Pellew sailed once more in search of Cléopâtre. Passing eastwards along the English coast until he reached Start Point in Devon, Pellew then turned southwards and at 03:30 on 18 June, while approximately 15 nautical miles (28 km) southwest of Start Point, his lookout sighted a sail 20 nautical miles (37 km) to the southeast.[10] At 04:00 Pellew closed to investigate, and the stranger was rapidly identified as Cléopâtre, three days out of Saint-Malo.[12] Captain Mullon initially raising all sail to escape the British frigate. By 05:00 it was obvious that Nymphe was faster than the French ship and Mullon lowered his topsails in anticipation of combat.[13] At 06:00 Nymphe pulled within range and Mullon hailed the British ship, although his words could not be clearly made out. Accounts differ on Pellew's response, which was to elicit a cry of either "Hoa, Hoa" or "Long live King George" from his men, followed by three cheers. Mullon's crew responded with either "Vive la nation" or "Vive la république" and cheering of their own,[6][11][14] at which one French sailor attached the captain's cap of liberty to the masthead as a symbol of defiance.[13]

At 06:15, Nymphe was in a position to begin the engagement and opened fire with the port broadside against the starboard quarter of the French ship, to which Cléopâtre responded in kind. The two ships kept up a heavy cannonade for the next fifteen minutes at extreme close range before the French ship suddenly hauled up at 06:30.[15] This gave Pellew the opportunity to engage the enemy even more closely and by 07:00 the French wheel had been destroyed, four successive helmsmen killed and the mizzenmast snapped off 12 feet (3.7 m) above the deck. This damage caused the French ship to swing around wildly, first to port and then suddenly back to starboard into Nymphe, so that the jib boom came to rest between the fore and main masts of the British ship, exerting significant pressure on the mainmast, already weakened by French shot, before the jib boom eventually snapped off.[16] Mullon gave orders for his men to storm Nymphe while the ships were entangled, but his crew refused.[17] As they hesitated, Cléopâtre swung back so that the frigates lay side by side, bow to stern, with Nymphe continuing the heavy cannonade as the British maintopmen worked furiously to disentangle the French rigging from their own ship's damaged mainmast, Pellew encouraging them with a promise of ten guineas to the man who successfully separated the ships.[1] The British captain had initially been concerned that the collision was a deliberate manoeuvre from Mullon and had readied his men in case the French should launch a boarding attack on his frigate. However, as soon as it became clear that the movement was involuntary and that the French were unwilling to press an attack, Pellew reversed his orders and had the men he had assembled to repel boarders climb on board Cléopâtre instead.[18]

At Pellew's orders, British boarders clambered onto the maindeck, through the gunports of the French frigate and even jumped from their own rigging onto the French yards. Although the attackers initially encountered fierce resistance, hand-to-hand combat lasted just ten minutes before the leaderless French sailors broke and ran.[16] Gaining the deck, the British boarding party hauled down the tricolour, signifying the end of the action. Pellew later described the event in a letter to his brother Samuel as "We dished her up in fifty minutes, boarded and took her".[17] On the quarterdeck they found Captain Mullon, who had been struck in the back by a roundshot which had also torn away most of his left hip and was close to death. Seeing that his ship was in the hands of the enemy, Mullon reached into his pocket for a sheet containing the French coastal codes and tore the paper to shreds with his teeth before dying. However, he had inadvertently destroyed his commission as ship's captain instead of the codes, which were later found intact on his body.[6] French casualties in the action totalled 63, including Mullon killed and his three lieutenants wounded. Losses aboard Nymphe was almost as severe, Pellew losing 23 men, including five officers, killed and 27 wounded.[19] More than 100 prisoners were then collected from Cléopâtre and sent aboard Nymphe, leaving 150 remaining on the French ship under the guard of the small prize crew. The ships were then separated and made their way to Portsmouth together, arriving there on 21 June.[20]

Aftermath

The arrival of the captured ship in Britain was greeted with celebration as the first major French warship seized during the conflict. News of the capture reached King George while he was at the opera, and he immediately and spontaneously announced it to the auditorium.[17] Popular prints depicting the action appeared rapidly in large numbers, many of them wildly inaccurate.[21] Shortly after their return to Britain both Pellew brothers were subsequently introduced to King George by Lord Chatham and were rewarded, Edward with a knighthood and Israel with promotion to post captain. First Lieutenant Amherst Morris was promoted to commander, and the ship's other lieutenants were commended for their actions,[20] following Pellew's official dispatch that praised their conduct in the engagement.[12] Cléopâtre was rapidly purchased into the Royal Navy as HMS Oiseau, as the name Cleopatra was already in use.[18] The prize money awarded totalled £7,798 17s and 1d (the equivalent of £1,155,400 as of 2024),[22] split between Pellew and the crew,[23] and authorised for payment on 14 December 1793.[24] The ship was considered a good command and remained in service throughout the 23 years of warfare which followed, eventually being sold in 1816. During this time at least 220 more French and allied frigates were captured or destroyed by British military action.[25] More than five decades later the battle was among the actions recognised by a clasp attached to the Naval General Service Medal, awarded upon application to all British participants from Nymphe still living in 1847.[26]

Soon after the action, Sir Edward Pellew moved to the large frigate HMS Indefatigable while his brother was given command of the frigate HMS Amphion. Both served with distinction: Sir Edward captured several more frigates and destroyed the French ship of the line Droits de l'Homme at the action of 13 January 1797, ending the war as commander in chief in the Mediterranean.[27] Israel was most noted for capturing the French flagship Bucentaure at the Battle of Trafalgar in 1805 while in command of HMS Conqueror.[28]

Historian William James has noted that while Nymphe was slightly heavier both in tonnage and weight of shot, the French ship carried 80 more personnel who had been serving as a unified crew for significantly longer than those aboard the British frigate;[20] among Pellew's men were 80 Cornish tin miners pressed into service only a few weeks earlier.[3] This should have conferred an advantage on the French during the final boarding action but the loss of the commanding officers and heavy casualties among the French crew enabled the British to capture the ship. Nevertheless, the heavy casualties on both ships demonstrated the fierceness of the action and James notes that "both combatants displayed, throughout the contest, an equal share of bravery and determination".[20] Pellew was so impressed by his opponent that he attended his funeral in Portsmouth on 23 June and later sent a considerable amount of money to Mullon's widow in honour of her husband's bravery.[29]

References

  1. ^ a b Mostert, p. xviii
  2. ^ Woodman, p. 19
  3. ^ a b Woodman, p. 20
  4. ^ a b Henderson, p. 13
  5. ^ Woodman, p. 21
  6. ^ a b c d Clowes, p. 477
  7. ^ James, p. 93
  8. ^ a b Clowes, p. 476
  9. ^ a b James, p. 94
  10. ^ a b Mostert, p. xvii
  11. ^ a b Henderson, p. 14
  12. ^ a b "No. 13539". The London Gazette. 18 June 1793. p. 517.
  13. ^ a b Woodman, p. 25
  14. ^ James, p. 96
  15. ^ James, p. 97
  16. ^ a b Woodman, p. 26
  17. ^ a b c Woodman, p. 27
  18. ^ a b Henderson, p. 15
  19. ^ James, p. 98
  20. ^ a b c d James, p. 99
  21. ^ Gardiner, p. 20
  22. ^ UK Retail Price Index inflation figures are based on data from Clark, Gregory (2017). "The Annual RPI and Average Earnings for Britain, 1209 to Present (New Series)". MeasuringWorth. Retrieved 7 May 2024.
  23. ^ Wareham, p. 60
  24. ^ "No. 13603". The London Gazette. 14 December 1793. p. 1122.
  25. ^ Henderson, p. 10
  26. ^ "No. 20939". The London Gazette. 26 January 1849. pp. 236–245.
  27. ^ Hall, Christopher D. "Pellew, Edward". Oxford Dictionary of National Biography. Retrieved 19 February 2010. (subscription or UK public library membership required)
  28. ^ Henderson, p. 16
  29. ^ Woodman, p. 29

Bibliography

50°12′54″N 3°34′55″W / 50.215°N 3.582°W / 50.215; -3.582

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