MARLBOROUGH AND HIS MEN--TO 1714
With the accession of Anne a fresh impetus was given to the national
spirit, and therefore to the army, which was its natural exponent. An
opinion by itself is valueless, but when backed up by threat of force,
must necessarily be listened to. There was much to keep the military
spirit alive, nothing to kill it down. There was a threatening and
ominous war-cloud beyond the Scottish border, which might accumulate
still more, and break with danger to the whole State, so long as there
was a pretender to the throne. There was now a greater amount of
intelligence, both as regards the understanding of what was going on
abroad, as well as at home, among the people; and still greater was the
amount and truthfulness of the news regarding such foreign affairs. The
spread of information as to what British soldiers were doing elsewhere
against the French and others, kept vigorously alive the memory of past
success, whether such was counted from Agincourt by land, or Blake at
sea. There was the beginning of the national principle of Empire, as
compared with the mere cramped vestrydom of home affairs only. A nation
that cares for nothing but such as these is provincial, not national,
in its tastes and views. But enlarged interests produce enlarged ideas.
The increasing necessity for an army was the first unwilling rift in
the old provincial policy of isolation. England was being led, or
forced, or both, to abandon her insular position and to take her place
more actively among the nations, and the consequent need for that
permanent national police, the army, was being slowly, though
still reluctantly, recognised.
[Illustration: _Private 14^{th} Reg^{t}. 1742._]
But ill deeds take long a-dying. It was not yet a century since kings
had tried to crush the freedom of a people, or since an army had taken
the place of personal rule and had threatened another and still worse
form of autocracy; still matters were mending. National poverty--for
the country was then neither populous nor rich--may have had a little
to do with past reluctance to enter the arena of European politics;
and for a long time a natural dread of a despotism of any kind led a
freedom-loving people to refuse supplies that might be used to create
a weapon hostile to their continued liberty. But all strong nations,
not governed by feminine hysteria or led by ill-balanced doctrinaires,
like to feel themselves strong and respected abroad as well as at home.
Blake had already shown the value of such a sentiment, but the time was
hardly yet ripe for the full influence of his work to be felt. It was
possibly but little known, generally, in his lifetime; for information,
in the middle of the seventeenth century, was slow in spreading.
Certainly it had not been fully grasped. But times were changing.
National glory, once tasted, could not be maintained by keeping aloof
from the broader work and interests of the world. The wars of Anne’s
reign, in which Marlborough was the leading spirit, roused the bold
fighting spirit that made the England of the eighteenth century, as the
campaigns of the early part of the nineteenth century have kept that
spirit from decay.
[Illustration: THE DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH
_From an old print_
]
But, more than this, an Englishman, the greatest of our national
leaders, John Churchill, Earl of Marlborough, Captain-General of
the combined forces in the Netherlands, was not only to take a more
prominent part in the coming war, was not only to enter into a campaign
the theatre of which was to range from the Atlantic to the German
Ocean, but was to command a more distinctly British contingent than
in William’s reign, when British, Dutch, and even Danes fought under
the same flag. And if the causes of the wars of the Dutch prince had
been rather of a personal nature, as before remarked, those which now
led the advisers of Queen Anne to take a vigorous offensive on the
Continent, were to preserve that “Balance of Power in Europe,” which
eventually became one of the special reasons advanced in the Mutiny Act
for the continuous, large standing army in this country. The war was to
check French oppression generally, for Europe’s sake, and to prevent a
single small State from falling into her hands.
“The necessity of war is occasioned by the want of a supreme judge, who
may decide upon the disputes of individuals.... In the failure of any
perfect remedy, however, for the disorder of war, a corrector of its
evils has been found in the system called the Balance of Power. Europe
being divided into many separate states, it has been the established
policy of all, that when any one by its aggrandisement, threatened the
general safety, the rest should unite to defend their independence.
Thus Louis XIV. was checked by England, Holland, and the Empire.”[19]
So the war-clouds again burst, with, on one side, a British, Dutch,
and Austrian army under Marlborough and Prince Eugene, and a force of
Spanish, Bavarians, and French under Tallard on the other; but the
extension of the interest in foreign political war was not now confined
only to the Continent, for seven regiments of infantry were also
despatched to the West Indies, to attempt the capture of the enemy’s
possessions in the Caribbean Sea and elsewhere.
There was much desultory fighting before the great battles whose
names are borne on British colours were fought; for victories at
Schellenburg, Bonn, Huy, etc., earned for the British general a dukedom
before the battles of Blenheim, Ramilies, Oudenarde, and Malplaquet
were fought. Ramilies is remarkable for the fact that, though the
contending forces were nearly equal, of the Allies only twenty-two
battalions were English, and nine Scotch; and that Marlborough, by
recognising that the French left was behind a marsh difficult to
pass, neglected this side and attacked in strength the other flank
with complete success. Here, too, an Irish regiment captured an
English colour, which long hung in the Irish Benedictine Church at
Ypres; and it was at Ramilies that the 25th King’s Own Borderers found
the French had not to halt and fix the “plug” bayonet in the muzzle
before charging, because they had adopted the socketed bayonet. Of the
regiments that fought in these campaigns, the Coldstream Guards were at
Oudenarde and Malplaquet only; the 28th and 29th at Ramilies; but all
four of these great victories are borne on the colours of the 1st, 3rd,
5th, 6th, and 7th Dragoon Guards, the 2nd Dragoons, the 5th Lancers,
the Grenadier Guards, and the 1st, 3rd, 8th, 10th, 15th, 16th, 18th,
21st, 23rd, 24th, 26th, and 37th Regiments of the line.
At Oudenarde there was a slight superiority on the part of the French,
and the battle is noteworthy for the presence and the gallant bearing
of “the Prince Elector of Hanover,” who afterwards, as George II.,
fought at Dettingen. It was essentially an infantry battle, for the
cavalry found little ground for their useful employment, and the
artillery were scarcely engaged at all. The field was contested far
into the darkness, and the French total loss in killed, wounded, and
missing is reported to have amounted to 20,000 men.
Malplaquet ranks as the most sanguinary conflict of the four, and
the loss of life almost exceeded the total of the other three. Among
the distinguished historical names of the combatants is that of the
“Chevalier de St. George,” who, as Marshal Boufflers says in his
despatch, “behaved himself during the whole action with all possible
bravery and vivacity,” and led twelve charges of the Household
troops. Courage was common, therefore, to both aspirants for the
British throne. The loss on both sides was heavy, that on the part of
the Allies has been variously put at between 35,000 and 18,000 men
(Villars); while the French loss was 15,000. Many of the veterans of
these wars lived up to the present century, and one, Henry Francis of
New York, died in 1820, aged 134.
Of all these battles, Blenheim offers the best type of the “order of
battle” of the times. In a story that simply proposes to tell how our
army came to be, and how and why it increased, any detailed reference
to the causes of and even sequence of the successive wars is beyond
its province. It will be sufficient, therefore, to recall to mind that
the campaign in which Blenheim was the distinguishing feature arose,
in the beginning, from the offensive action on the part of Louis XIV.
in supporting the Stuarts, and in the support he gave to the claims of
his grandson Philip to the throne of Spain. The _odium theologicum_ was
also a serious factor in the game. It was the ever recurring battle
between the Catholicism of Rome and that of the other sections of
Christianity antagonistic to the claims of the Romish Church.
It was nominally a coalition against France; at the bottom of it all
was religious antagonism, and this notwithstanding the nature of the
alliance. The Dutch wanted to preserve their frontiers, to protect
their faith. The Imperial army wanted to check French aggression and
support the Austrian candidature to the Spanish throne; while the
alliance of Bavaria with France left the heart of Germany open to these
allies. The defeat of the Emperor would destroy the Austrian hopes,
and therefore the French, under Tallard, moved towards the valley of
the Danube. Hence it was that Marlborough, grasping the situation and
seeing the importance of the defeat of the main Franco-Bavarian army,
decided on concentrating the allied forces in the valley of the Danube,
as Napoleon did later at Ulm.[20]
Thus, after some unimportant tactical and strategical operations,
the opposing armies found themselves approaching each other near the
village of Blenheim, or Blindheim, between Dillingen and Donauwerth, on
the north bank of the great river.
The road between these places is crossed by two streams running into
the Danube. West of the first is Hochstadt, the usual name given
to the battle by foreign writers; on the second, the Nebel, and close
to the Danube, was “Blindheim,” with Unterglauheim, on a marshy space
a short distance up the stream, and midway between the Danube and the
wooded heights in which these small tributary streams rise. Between
the rivulets lie parallel ledges of no great height; but, owing to the
period of the year, the streamlet was practically passable--except
possibly to cavalry and artillery--in most places. West of the Nebel
were the Franco-Bavarians, and Tallard had viewed his front of battle
as reduced to a series of defiles by the nature of the wet ground in
front, and had moreover retired so far from the stream as to leave
plenty of room for an assaulting column to deploy after it had crossed
the comparatively insignificant obstacle. Thinking the centre naturally
strong, Tallard therefore occupied Blenheim, which was strong enough
almost to take care of itself, with twenty-six battalions and twelve
squadrons.
[Illustration: _Formation of the Lines of Battle at Blenheim 13^{th}
August 1704._]
The centre was practically composed of cavalry, eighty squadrons,
and seven battalions. The left was held by Marsin from Oberglauheim
farther up the Nebel to the wooded hill lands in strength with fourteen
battalions (including the Irish Brigade) and thirty-six squadrons. On
the east bank of the rivulet, Marlborough, arriving first, had to wait
for his ally Eugene, and decided on holding or containing the enemy’s
right with Cutts’ hard-fighting regiment; and, waiting for the similar
attack by his ally on the enemy’s left, kept in hand a centre of 8000
cavalry in two lines in front and a force of infantry in second line
behind. His artillery were posted to cover the passage of the stream,
over which extra pontoon bridges had been thrown. So he waited until
Eugene was ready to engage.
This happened about 1 p.m., and the battle on this side was hotly
contested to the end, with varying results; indeed, the Irish Brigade
assailed the infantry of Marlborough’s right centre with serious
results, until checked, and finally Marsin was able to retreat in good
order. Meanwhile, on the other flank, Cutts had been able to “contain”
Blenheim, and then, about 5 p.m., Marlborough’s centre crossed
between the villages of Unter and Oberglauheim, and, supported as far
as possible by guns, vigorously attacked and broke the centre of the
defence, and the battle was practically over. For the separation of
the wings obliged Marsin to fall back on Dillingen; and Blenheim, with
twenty-four battalions and twelve squadrons, was compelled to surrender.
The Allied loss came to about 5000 killed and 8000 wounded. Of the
French, 12,000 were killed and 14,000 made prisoners; while all the
cannon and stores, some 300 colours, the general commanding, and 12,000
officers, were captured.
The “advice to officers,” printed at Perth in 1795, tells a quaint
story of the conduct of the men of the 15th Foot during the battle.
One of the senior officers, who knew he was unpopular because of his
severity with his men, turned round to them before getting under fire,
and confessed he had been to blame, and begged to fall by the hands
of the French, not theirs. “March on, sir,” replied a grenadier; “the
enemy is before us, and we have something else to do than think of you
now.” On the French giving way, the major took off his hat and cried,
“Huzzah, gentlemen!--the day is our own”; and, so saying, he fell dead,
pierced through the brain; whether even then accidentally or otherwise
by some of his own men or by the enemy, will never be known. But the
death of officers by other bullets than those of the enemy is no new
thing, if past stories and tradition be true.
The victory had a twofold aspect. On the one side the political effect
was enormous. It had checked for ever the idea of universal dominion
which may have been in Louis’ mind. More than this, but for it the
whole face of Europe might have been politically altered. Protestantism
might have once more been overridden by Roman Catholicism; Stuarts and
not Guelphs might have reigned in England; the growth of commercial
enterprise and religious freedom might have received a serious check;
and, to quote Alison without fully endorsing his views, it is possible
that “the Colonial Empire of England might have withered away and
perished, as that of Spain has done in the grasp of the Inquisition.
The Anglo-Saxon race would have been arrested in its mission to
overspread the earth and subdue it. The centralised despotism of the
Roman Empire would have been renewed in Continental Europe. The chains
of Romish tyranny, and with them the general infidelity of France
before the Revolution, would have extinguished or prevented thought in
the British Islands.” These are strong views and possibly exaggerated;
but whatever danger might have accrued from French aggression, the
victory of Blenheim effectually stopped it. On the other hand, from a
military standpoint the battle shows a curious change in tactics, which
forms a sort of link with those of the time preceding it and those that
followed. The actual order of battle shows how little, even then, the
true employment of the mounted arms with respect to the infantry was
understood. For example, Tallard had sent, besides a crowd of infantry,
into the confined village space of Blenheim, where the few could check
the many, some twelve dragoon squadrons to be dismounted and fight
on foot. He did not, evidently, understand or grasp the proportion
of footmen necessary for mere passive defence, or the value of the
defensive when the protective nature of the cover afforded by such a
place was taken into account.
Nor was the relative support of the three arms of battle better
understood. If in the past the men-at-arms formed the mainstay of
the attack, so here, with a slight difference, is the same result
apparent. Much as the infantry had improved and come to the front, it
was, apparently, not even now recognised that it was a principal arm
of battle, to which all others are accessory. Then, when the decisive
moment of the day, about 5 p.m., came, the cavalry, some 8000 strong,
were led by the duke himself against the French position. There was
still personal leadership of men rather than the direction of them that
the general showed. “The infantry were in _support_, with intervals
between the battalions, so that the squadrons, if repulsed, might pass
through.” The admixture of the dissimilar arms of infantry and cavalry
in the same fighting line is still curious. Similarly, says General
Kane, “the Gens d’armes ... _began_ the battle by a most furious
charge, and broke through part of the front line” of Cutts’ division.
The probable fact is that the cavalry, being more mobile than the
infantry, whose fighting power depended on the fire-action, which was
necessarily slow, were used for the real attack, as the infantry were
less able to take a vigorous offensive. Besides, the enemy’s centre
was composed chiefly of the mounted arm. The artillery, slow moving
like the infantry, were brought up in _support_ of the more mobile
body. It was only therefore when the ground was hopelessly bad for the
mounted arm, as at Oudenarde and Malplaquet, that the decisive blow was
given by infantry, and then the fight was more prolonged, more bloody,
more stubbornly contested and less resultful. Good as the infantry
was,--so good that “Salamander Cutts” advanced his regiments right up
to the palisades of Blenheim without firing a shot, and he contained
and held therefore in the village the mass of troops that finally had
to surrender there,--it was not the principal arm yet. The infantry
_supported_ the main attack of the cavalry, and completed the victory.
Time was to come when the cavalry were to reverse these tactics, and
complete the success that the infantry had begun.
The proportion of the cavalry to infantry again proves the case;
nowadays it would be absolutely abnormal. Of the 52,000 Allies (9000 of
whom were English), there were 20,000 cavalry. Of the 56,000 French,
8000 were cavalry. It is a stage in the tactical history, and that
is all. The artillery took the preparatory part of the battle, and
practically stopped there. The infantry finished what the cavalry had
begun by Marlborough’s “decisive attack” with his two lines of cavalry;
but the value of artillery to support such an advance and its increased
mobility is foreshadowed by the advance of the guns across the Nebel.
How history repeats itself backwards and forwards! In a war of
pure aggression, with, at its bottom, racial and religious hatred,
Shouvaloff, after the capture of Ismail in 1790, “with bloody hands”
writes his first despatch, and in it says, “Glory to God and the
Empress, Ismail’s ours!” So, in, 1870 Emperor William telegraphs to his
Queen, “Thanks be to God!” Here too, at Blenheim, Marlborough says in
his despatch to Queen Anne: “So with the blessing of God we obtained a
complete victory. We have cut off great numbers of them as well in the
action as in the retreat, besides upwards of thirty squadrons of the
French which I pushed into the Danube.” The assumption that Providence
is on the winning side, or on that of the “big battalions,” is common
throughout the military history of all time.
The victory of Blenheim was certainly most complete. The French were
not defeated only, but routed and dispersed by the central attack, as
Napoleon defeated his adversaries at Austerlitz later on, by a similar
tactical blow. “The best troops in the world had been vanquished,” said
the marshal mournfully; but, replied Marlborough, “I think my own must
be the best in the world, as they have conquered those on whom you
bestow so high an encomium.”
And, says another writer of the time, speaking of the anxious and
dreadful side of war, “A great general--I mean such as the Duke of
Marlborough, weak in his constitution and well stricken in years--would
not undergo those eating cares which must be continually at his heart,
the toils and hardships he must endure, if he has the least spark of
human consideration; I say he could not engage in such a life, if not
for the sake of his Queen, his country, and his honour.”
Meanwhile, other warlike operations had been conducted elsewhere on the
Continent, though their glories and disasters were overshadowed by the
more tremendous conflicts in the northern theatre of war. An allied
Anglo-Dutch force under the Earl of Peterborough had been despatched
to the Spanish Peninsula in support of the claim of Charles III. to
the Spanish throne; and in consequence of the maritime nature of the
operations, battalions for sea service as marines were raised, so to
the three already in existence were added the 30th, 31st, and 32nd
Regiments of the line. The first success was the capture of Barcelona,
in which Colonel Southwell of the 6th Foot distinguished himself, and
where two Marine colonels, Birr and Rodney, disagreed on landing to
such an extent that they thereupon fought in front of the line, and the
latter was wounded unto death. Birr finally commanded the 32nd.
But one of the rare disasters in our military annals befell us in this
campaign at Almanza, where the Guards, the 2nd, 6th, 9th, 11th, 17th,
28th, 33rd, 35th, and 36th Regiments, the 2nd Dragoon Guards, 3rd, 4th,
and 8th Hussars, besides other regiments since disbanded, were present,
and where the new Union Jack, with the two crosses of St. Andrew and
St. George only, was first carried; but the British were heavily
outnumbered by the fifty-two battalions and seventy-six squadrons
of the enemy, led by the Duke of Berwick, the son of James II. and
Arabella Churchill, and were practically dispersed, with the loss of
all their guns, 620 colours, and 10,000 prisoners. To counterbalance
this was the gallant defence of the castle of Alicante, and the
brilliant “affair” of Saragossa, when 30 standards were taken; and the
6th Foot claim the right of wearing their badge of the antelope from
the date of this battle, in which one of the standards taken by them
bore that emblem.
Meanwhile, Marlborough retired to France after the treaty of Utrecht,
to return when George I. ascended the throne, as Captain-General and
Commander-in-Chief of the Forces, Colonel of the 1st Foot Guards, and
Master of the Ordnance. But he did not survive the receipt of his
new honours and return to power long. He died in 1722, at the age of
seventy-three years, and a grateful nation interred him in Westminster
Abbey.
Whatever estimate may be formed as to the private character of
Churchill, there can be but one opinion as to his military career.
Few great generals have had a more difficult task to perform than he,
hampered as he was by alliances which often prevented his carrying to
its full end the instincts and direction of his military genius. He
was, besides being a skilful and scientific general, a brave man, and a
leader of men. He never lost a battle or a siege. His recognition of
the enemy’s weakness in the centre at Blenheim is only equalled by the
similar penetration that Napoleon displayed at Austerlitz, and which
proved once more that piercing the centre, if possible and successful,
necessarily involves the temporary dispersion of the defeated army. His
quick eye for “ground” is equally shown in his grasping the weakness
of the French defensive position at Ramilies, and his seeing that the
enemy’s left, being powerless for rapid offence, could be checked and
held in place, while the weight of the rest of his army was thrown
against the other wing.
His personal bravery at the same battle nearly cost him his life; and
it is curious to read of the general commanding himself leading a
charge in person, and fighting like a trooper, sword in hand.
But this and his personal care for and interest in his men was the
secret of his power of leadership. He himself inspected his line before
a battle, and his calm presence imparted a courage and confidence that
all soldiers understand. His cheerful and cheering “Be steady and go
on--keep up your fire, and the enemy will soon be dispersed,” accounts
for much of the feeling that the rank and file felt for “Corporal
John,” the affectionate title the men applied to him, as French
soldiers did that of “le petit Caporal” to the equally great soldier
of the next century. The ballad-writer of about 1711 fully emphasises
this:--
“Don’t talk of Schomberg and such to me;
Noll and King William they might be queer
To deal with, but he’d have beat them all three,
Lord! as easy as I’m taking off this beer.
All along I was with him, and I should know,
And I tell you, my boys, the sun never shone
On one that has led a charge here below
That was fit to be named with Corporal John.
* * * * *
Then May good luck and Ramilies brought,
At Ottomond’s tomb, by the red Mehaigne,
To slaughter our corporal, Villeroi thought,
But the French and their marshal we thrashed again.
Eighty standards and every gun
Our corporal took that glorious day,
And with it the whole of Brabant we won,
And Louis from Flanders, he slunk away.
Oh, Corporal John always fought to beat;
He was the one who could reckon upon;
There was glory and plunder, but never retreat,
For all who fought under Corporal John.”
He believed in his men, and was careful of them as far as such was
possible. He believed that “with 10,000 well-fed Englishmen, 10,000
half-starved Scotchmen, and 10,000 Irishmen charged with usquebaugh, he
could march from Boulogne to Bayonne in spite of Le Grand Monarque.”
And, true Englishman, he was “always of opinion that English horses, as
well as English men, were better than could be had anywhere else.”
And while a strict disciplinarian (an absolute necessity with the
very rough material he had to command) he allowed no severe court
martial punishment to be carried into effect without his knowledge and
confirmation. Men were kept sufficiently employed, when in camp and
not actively engaged, to prevent liberty degenerating into licence. He
was no advocate, apparently, for night marching, thinking that three
hours of sound sleep _before_ midnight were all-important. After that,
it did not matter how early the reveillé was sounded. And, lastly,
it is curious to read of a fighting man of the early part of the
eighteenth century, when morals were not at their highest, and of one
the private side of whose character is, to say the least, questionable,
taking special care of the theological element of governance. His
chaplains were intended to do their duty, and did it. He rarely, if
ever, went into action without going to prayers first! At least, so
it is said. He has much in common with Napoleon. Both as soldiers
stand preeminent; both in their private capacities show weaknesses
that are little removed from criminal. But in thus judging the great
duke, every allowance must be made for the times in which he lived,
and the corruption that was so common as to be almost excusable. But
whether his hands were clean or not, whether his conscience was pure
or otherwise, whether he was really loyal or disloyal to the sovereign
he, militarily, served so well, now all these things may be forgotten,
and only the fact that he raised the name of the English army to
the highest pitch of glory, and laid the foundation of our present
respected position both by land and sea, need be remembered by this
generation.
With the peace of Utrecht the great war for a time came to an end, and
the army of 200,000 men was reduced to 8000 in Great Britain and 11,000
in the Plantations and elsewhere. All this, be it remembered, with the
remembrance of the victories of Blenheim and Ramilies still ringing
in the nation’s ears. But people began slowly, though still with
reluctance, to desire that the army should go to war strong, even if,
after the sound of battle had ceased, the Government reduced it to a
mere cipher of its former battle strength. Yet, though a cipher, it was
still one of larger value after each campaign than it was before.
When, therefore, a German-speaking king, George I., ascended the
throne, the standing army had permanently grown.
There were, besides the Life and Horse Guards, the seven Dragoon
Guards Regiments, the light regiments up to the 8th Light Dragoons (of
which the 7th, formed from troops of the “Greys” and Royal Dragoons,
was disbanded in 1713, but restored in 1715), and up to the 39th Foot
inclusive; and of these the 30th, 31st and 32nd, as Sanderson’s,
Villiers’ and Fox’s Marines, had been raised for sea service before
coming on the army’s strength. It cannot be too often pointed out
that the regiments were formed and disbanded more or less after every
war, and that consequently many rank their seniority from their first
creation.
The arms had little changed. The cuirass for cavalry was abandoned in
1702 and restored temporarily in 1707. The socketed bayonet had been
introduced, and Blenheim was the first _great_ battle in which the
pike had been replaced by the new weapon. Sergeants still carried the
halberd, which was succeeded as time went on by the lighter pike or
“spontoon,” which remained in the service until after the Peninsular
war, and which was carried by the “covering sergeant,” who protected or
“covered” his captain with the weapon while his superior directed the
work of the company.
The colours, formerly three in number, had by this time been reduced
to two, the one the Union “Jack,” the other the Regimental Colour, the
ground of which was that of the regimental facings.
Doubtless the political feeling of expediency and the want of a larger
revenue had still much to do with these continuous and expensive
reductions, even more than the decaying dread of standing armies. They
were expensive as involving greater expenditure when war broke out
afresh, as it was likely to do. They cost the internal economy of the
State much, from the difficulty of finding employment for the vast
numbers of disbanded soldiery after a campaign. Politicians of the time
were too narrow-minded to see that it costs less to be always prepared
for war in peace rather than wait for the warlike necessity to arise.
They were “penny wise and pound foolish” then, much as we are to-day.
Taxpayers and Governments are proverbially slow to recognise this. The
greater the national wealth, the more need for the national insurance.
That means an army and a navy sufficient for that insurance.