Death
A battle in the neighbourhood of Alexandria (21 March 1801) was the sequel of this successful landing, and it was Abercromby's fate to fall in the moment of victory. He was struck by a spent ball, which could not be extracted, and died seven days after the battle, aboard HMS Foudroyant, which was moored in the harbour.
His old friend and commander the Duke of York paid a tribute to the soldier's memory in general orders: "His steady observance of discipline, his ever-watchful attention to the health and wants of his troops, the persevering and unconquerable spirit which marked his military career, the splendour of his actions in the field and the heroism of his death, are worthy the imitation of all who desire, like him, a life of heroism and a death of glory." He was buried in the Commandery of the Grand Master, the Knights of St John, Malta
By a vote of the House of Commons, a monument was erected in his honour in St Paul's Cathedral, Abercromby Square in Liverpool is named in his honour. His widow was created Baroness Abercromby of Tullibody and Aboukir Bay, and a pension of £2,000 a year was settled on her and her two successors in the title.
He had seven children. Of four sons, all four entered Parliament, and two saw military service.
- Hon. Anne Abercromby (d. 17 September 1844)
- Hon. Mary Abercromby (d. 1825)
- Hon. Catherine Abercromby (d. 7 May 1842)
- George Abercromby, 2nd Baron Abercromby (1770–1843)
- General Hon. Sir John Abercromby (1772–1817)
- James Abercromby, 1st Baron Dunfermline (1776–1858)
- Lt.-Col. Hon. Alexander Abercromby (1784–1853)
A public house in central Manchester, the 'Sir Ralph Abercrombie', is named after him.
Read more about this topic: Ralph Abercromby
Famous quotes containing the word death:
“Abba, dark death is the breaking of a glass.
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The seal is as relaxed as dirt, perdu.”
—Wallace Stevens (1879–1955)
“He should be as vigorous as a sugar maple, with sap enough to maintain his own verdure,... and not like a vine, which being cut in the spring bears no fruit, but bleeds to death in the endeavor to heal its wounds.”
—Henry David Thoreau (1817–1862)