1957 Napoleonic naval fiction, ninth written and eleventh by internal
chronology. Ten years after the war ended, Admiral Hornblower, in
command of the West India squadron, faces a variety of challenges. US
vt Admiral Hornblower in the West Indies.
Much as Mr Midshipman Hornblower, this is structured as a
series of independent stories sharing a setting rather than as a
single novel.
"St. Elizabeth of Hungary" has Hornblower paying a courtesy call at
New Orleans. There's a Frenchman who is clearly up to something
nefarious, but he's in a fast American-flagged ship which can't really
be stopped without causing political upset, and Hornblower's schooner
can't hope to fight her even if she catches her. So how to find her,
and how to stop the plot? Hornblower lies; and is saved from disgrace
only because the lie proves to have been the unexpected truth.
Which, although it's framed in terms of honour, rather misses the mark
for me. What Hornblower is worried about is that his lie will become
public: he will be known as a man who lied while giving his word of
honour. So when it turns out that his statement was, unknown to him,
true, all is resolved: there will be no disgrace. But if Hornblower
actually had a sense of honour, that would make no difference: he
still knows he lied, that he is a man who will lie in order to get a
greater goal. Of course to condemn this is also to condemn Corrie Ten
Boom for lying to the
Nazis about the presence of Jews in her house; but, by Hornblower's
own lights and those of his society, he should hate himself even more
than he does already, and there's no sign of that here once it's clear
that the secret won't get out.
Of course Hornblower's morality has always been flexible; never mind
Marie de Graçay, which avoids being counted as infidelity only because
Hornblower's wife had died, which again he didn't know at the time,
there's the casual encounter with the Countess Canerine, when they're
both married. So he's clearly experienced at rationalisation. Still,
it leaves a slightly bad taste.
"The Star of the South" has Hornblower chasing a slave ship, but
needing a ploy in order to catch her. But, with an unusual burst of
empathy, he must also manipulate his straightforward captain into
thinking it was his own idea.
"The Bewildered Pirates" has Hornblower and his secretary kidnapped by
pirates whose ship has been sunk but who are still on the loose on
Jamaica. He is released to negotiate, but knows he will have to go
back to rescue the secretary… until that man proves to have escaped by
his own efforts, at which point it all becomes much easier.
"The Guns of Carabobo" has a visiting merchant who charms everyone,
but who then goes on to cause great trouble in the South American
fight for independence from Spain. I particularly appreciate the
intricate machinations used to exert a fictional influence on an
historical battle to an extent that everyone present can believe it
made a difference, but also in such a way that conventional history
won't bother to mention it.
"The Hurricane" sees Hornblower leaving his West Indian command, with
his wife Barbara coming out to join him on the voyage home. There's a
matter of a bandsman up for court-martial for refusing to play music
as written; but he escapes, and the Hornblowers leave. There's some
solid technical sea action as a hurricane wrecks the ship on which
they're passengers, and at the end it proves, in a mirror of the first
story, that Barbara is just as prone as Hornblower to assume that one
wrong thing done for the right reasons will be the end of everything.
(If no deserter can hope to last long on Jamaica because of the
generous bounty for turning them in, how were those pirates, on whom
presumably there was a similar bounty, managing to get food?)
All rather fun. I said last time that I was enjoying the earlier-set
but later-written stories more than the first few books; now with this
later-set book I think I can say that it's because of Forester's
maturation as a writer.
- Posted by J Michael Cule at
12:12pm on
15 June 2026
I am very fond of "St. Elizabeth of Hungary" with it's metaphor of unexpected grace, of divine mercy when you're not expecting it.
Mind you, now you point it out Hornblower is saved by accident twice in this volume and I don't recall the second story at all.
You should remember that Hornblower already despises himself and is dancing very fast to avoid his own Imposter Syndrome all through his career.
And to point up his moral flexibility even more I'd point to his second affair with Marie whilst his wife was off at the Congress of Vienna (or was it Berlin?).
Forester has Marie tragically and uselessly killed during the Hundred Days which was the only thing he could do to maintain appearances. In the fanfiction in my head (which I will never write) the three of them form a happy menage a trois and nobody ever dares notice.
- Posted by RogerBW at
03:52pm on
15 June 2026
Yes, I know about the whole self-loathing thing (which I think Forester has mostly toned down in these later-written books), but there are two different strands to it: one is as you suggest the impostor syndrome, the feeling that he has only just managed to pull off the latest sailing miracle and he's doing a lousy job of being a captain. The other is the catastrophising that I haven't really noticed before: "Because of this one error, my entire professional life is over".
It seemed to me that the proper resolution for the matter of Marie would have been for her to have a small son at their next meeting, "the last gift of her late husband".
Still. I don't know whether Forester understood honour, but it's clear to me that Hornblower doesn't. He understands how to comply with society's demands of a man in his position, which is rather a different thing.
- Posted by Chris at
10:06pm on
15 June 2026
A wise man of my acquaintance emphasised, when I was writing my Master's on "Honour in the Matter of Britain" (or whatever I called it in the end) that honour is based on what you know about yourself, unlike reputation, which is based on what other people think they know about you. This came in very handy when discussing the ending of Gawain and the Green Knight.
I'm fairly certain Lois McMaster Bujold reached the same conclusion in one of her Vorkosigan books, but I can't remember which to look up the exact phrasing.
Anyway, I tend to agree with this review that Hornblower hasn't a clue about that difference, and I suspect that Forester didn't either. Only I am unsure it would be possible for him to hate himself more than he does already, the miserable git.
- Posted by J Michael Cule at
12:47pm on
16 June 2026
"Reputation is what other people know about you. Honor is what you know about yourself. Guard your honor. Let your reputation fall where it will. And outlive the bastards."
It's in A CIVIL CAMPAIGN.
I once brought this up in an internet thread and somebody asked me if I knew I was going against what honour had meant through all human history. I said I didn't care but if you have an earlier source I can feel slightly less alone and slightly less of an intellectual vanguard.
- Posted by John at
11:30am on
17 June 2026
I’d be interested to know if m’learned colleagues had come across The Seafort Saga, a series of novels by David Feintuch, which are very explicitly ‘Hornblower in Space’.
The author pretty much replicates the Royal Navy in space, down to why you have child officers and authoritarian captains.
I found them an interesting counterpoint to Hornblower as they really delve into his internal journey - self loathing, lack of honour, etc. but Seafort very much despises himself for the choices he has made, even when they are lauded by external society and he is honoured and elevated because of them.
- Posted by RogerBW at
11:40am on
17 June 2026
I read the first one in 1994 when it was newly out, and my main recollection is that I found it thoroughly repellent. But I hadn't read any Forester, or even his imitators, at that time.
- Posted by Chris at
02:14pm on
17 June 2026
I'd suggest that the difference between public and private honour is pretty-much central to Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, which was written some time before 1400 and is therefore I suppose reasonably historical; Gawain knows he failed to behave with honour and is not happy about it, while the court of King Arthur prance about wearing green sashes to signalise his victory and rub his nose in his imperfection.
He has of course already, by that time, failed: he undertook two incompatible charges, to be loyal to his host and to keep his word to his hostess; it was not possible to do both at the same time. By accepting the green sash and not giving it to his host (because revealing it would compromise the lady) he was already forsworn and dishonoured.
But we get none of this dilemma in Hornblower: it's whitewashed over and made ok because the lie is not discovered. Gawain minds about this, and tries to insist on what he knows to be true about his failing; Hornblower doesn't. Gawain has honour and loses it, sure, but at least he knows that he has done so; Hornblower seems happily oblivious about it actually having been lost, which, given his passion for beating his breast about his shortcomings, always brought me up a bit short when it came up.
"Honour is the only thing we bring with us into the world, and the only thing which, once lost, we can never regain." "Eagle lost, honour lost; honour lost, all lost." The legate regrets, at the end of The Eagle of the Ninth, that the ninth legion is not going to be revived after the eagle is found again, but no matter what anyone outside the legion might think, the heart would not be in them after what happened up north. They would know the legion lacked honour, no matter what they were told.
- Posted by RogerBW at
03:08pm on
17 June 2026
There are two incidents in Mr Midshipman Hornblower which I feel are relevant to any consideration of Hornblower's sense of honour.
In "The Even Chance" he insists on leaving his life or death to pure chance. (Well, if he killed the other man he'd probably be executed anyway.)
But in "The Duchess and the Devil" he's given his parole to the Spanish and is then granted a perfect opportunity to escape. At that point he's not concerned with what the world will think; both the English and the Spanish clearly think him mad not to take the chance. That is a genuine case of honour on his part (if a simplistic one).