PART II

SEA POWER IN HISTORY

15. A NATION EXHAUSTED BY ISOLATION[41]

_France under Louis XIV_

The peace signed at Ryswick in 1697 was most disadvantageous to France;

she lost all that had been gained since the Peace of Nimeguen, nineteen

years before, with the single important exception of Strasburg. All that

Louis XIV had gained by trick or force during the years of peace was

given up. Immense restitutions were made to Germany and to Spain. In so

far as the latter were made in the Netherlands, they were to the

immediate advantage of the United Provinces, and indeed of all Europe as

well as of Spain. To the two sea nations the terms of the treaty gave

commercial benefits, which tended to the increase of their own sea power

and to the consequent injury of that of France.

France had made a gigantic struggle; to stand alone as she did then, and

as she has since done more than once, against all Europe is a great

feat. Yet it may be said that as the United Provinces taught the lesson

that a nation, however active and enterprising, cannot rest upon

external resources alone, if intrinsically weak in numbers and

territory, so France in its measure shows that a nation cannot subsist

indefinitely off itself, however powerful in numbers and strong in

internal resources.

It is said that a friend once found Colbert looking dreamily from his

windows, and on questioning him as to the subject of his meditations,

received this reply: “In contemplating the fertile fields before my

eyes, I recall those which I have seen elsewhere; what a rich country is

France!” This conviction supported him amid the many discouragements of

his official life, when struggling to meet the financial difficulties

arising from the extravagance and wars of the king; and it has been

justified by the whole course of the nation’s history since his days.

France is rich in natural resources as well as in the industry and

thrift of her people. But neither individual nations nor men can thrive

when severed from natural intercourse with their kind; whatever the

native vigor of constitution, it requires healthful surroundings, and

freedom to draw to itself from near and from far all that is conducive

to its growth and strength and general welfare. Not only must the

internal organism work satisfactorily, the processes of decay and

renewal, of movement and circulation, go on easily, but, from sources

external to themselves, both mind and body must receive healthful and

varied nourishment. With all her natural gifts France wasted away

because of the want of that lively intercourse between the different

parts of her own body and constant exchange with other people, which is

known as commerce, internal or external. To say that war was the cause

of these defects is to state at least a partial truth; but it does not

exhaust the matter. War, with its many acknowledged sufferings, is above

all harmful when it cuts a nation off from others and throws it back

upon itself. There may indeed be periods when such rude shocks have a

bracing effect, but they are exceptional, and of short duration, and

they do not invalidate the general statement. Such isolation was the lot

of France during the later wars of Louis XIV, and it well-nigh destroyed

her; whereas to save her from the possibility of such stagnation was the

great aim of Colbert’s life.

War alone could not entail it, if only war could be postponed until the

processes of circulation within and without the kingdom were established

and in vigorous operation. They did not exist when he took office; they

had to be both created and firmly rooted in order to withstand the blast

of war. Time was not given to accomplish this great work, nor did Louis

XIV support the schemes of his minister by turning the budding energies

of his docile and devoted subjects into paths favorable to it. So when

the great strain came upon the powers of the nation, instead of drawing

strength from every quarter and through many channels, and laying the

whole outside world under contribution by the energy of its merchants

and seamen, as England has done in like straits, it was thrown back upon

itself, cut off from the world by the navies of England and Holland, and

the girdle of enemies which surrounded it upon the continent. The only

escape from this process of gradual starvation was by an effectual

control of the sea; the creation of a strong sea power which should

ensure free play for the wealth of the land and the industry of the

people. For this, too, France had great natural advantages in her three

seaboards, on the Channel, the Atlantic, and the Mediterranean; and

politically she had had the fair opportunity of joining to her own

maritime power that of the Dutch in friendly alliance, hostile or at

least wary toward England. In the pride of his strength, conscious of

absolute control in his kingdom, Louis cast away this strong

reinforcement to his power, and proceeded to rouse Europe against him by

repeated aggressions. In the period which we have just considered,

France justified his confidence by a magnificent, and upon the whole

successful, maintenance of his attitude against all Europe; she did not

advance, but neither did she greatly recede. But this display of power

was exhausting; it ate away the life of the nation, because it drew

wholly upon itself and not upon the outside world, with which it could

have been kept in contact by the sea. In the war that next followed, the

same energy is seen, but not the same vitality; and France was

everywhere beaten back and brought to the verge of ruin. The lesson of

both is the same; nations, like men, however strong, decay when cut off

from the external activities and resources which at once draw out and

support their internal powers. A nation, as we have already shown,

cannot live indefinitely off itself, and the easiest way by which it can

communicate with other peoples and renew its own strength is the sea.

16. THE GROWTH OF BRITISH SEA POWER[42]

_England after the Peace of Utrecht, 1715_

While England’s policy thus steadily aimed at widening and strengthening

the bases of her sway upon the ocean, the other governments of Europe

seemed blind to the dangers to be feared from her sea growth. The

miseries resulting from the overweening power of Spain in days long gone

by seemed to be forgotten; forgotten also the more recent lesson of the

bloody and costly wars provoked by the ambition and exaggerated power of

Louis XIV. Under the eyes of the statesmen of Europe there was steadily

and visibly being built up a third overwhelming power, destined to be

used as selfishly, as aggressively, though not as cruelly, and much more

successfully than any that had preceded it. This was the power of the

sea, whose workings, because more silent than the clash of arms, are

less often noted, though lying clearly enough on the surface. It can

scarcely be denied that England’s uncontrolled dominion of the seas,

during almost the whole period chosen for our subject, was by long odds

the chief among the military factors that determined the final

issue.[43] So far, however, was this influence from being foreseen after

Utrecht, that France for twelve years, moved by personal exigencies of

her rulers, sided with England against Spain; and when Fleuri came into

power in 1726, though this policy was reversed, the navy of France

received no attention, and the only blow at England was the

establishment of a Bourbon prince, a natural enemy to her, upon the

throne of the two Sicilies in 1736. When war broke out with Spain in

1739, the navy of England was in numbers more than equal to the combined

navies of Spain and France; and during the quarter of a century of

nearly uninterrupted war that followed, this numerical disproportion

increased. In these wars England, at first instinctively, afterward with

conscious purpose under a government that recognized her opportunity and

the possibilities of her great sea power, rapidly built up that mighty

colonial empire whose foundations were already securely laid in the

characteristics of her colonists and the strength of her fleets. In

strictly European affairs her wealth, the outcome of her sea power, made

her play a conspicuous part during the same period. The system of

subsidies, which began half a century before in the wars of Marlborough

and received its most extensive development half a century later in the

Napoleonic wars, maintained the efforts of her allies, which would have

been crippled, if not paralyzed, without them. Who can deny that the

government which with one hand strengthened its fainting allies on the

continent with the life-blood of money, and with the other drove its own

enemies off the sea and out of their chief possessions, Canada,

Martinique, Guadeloupe, Havana, Manila, gave to its country the foremost

rôle in European politics; and who can fail to see that the power which

dwelt in that government, with a land narrow in extent and poor in

resources, sprang directly from the sea? The policy in which the English

government carried on the war is shown by a speech of Pitt, the

master-spirit during its course, though he lost office before bringing

it to an end. Condemning the Peace of 1763, made by his political

opponent, he said: “France is chiefly, if not exclusively, formidable to

us as a maritime and commercial power. What we gain in this respect is

valuable to us, above all, through the injury to her which results from

it. You have left to France the possibility of reviving her navy.” Yet

England’s gains were enormous; her rule in India was assured, and all

North America east of the Mississippi in her hands. By this time the

onward path of her government was clearly marked out, had assumed the

force of a tradition, and was consistently followed. The war of the

American Revolution was, it is true, a great mistake, looked at from the

point of view of sea power; but the government was led into it

insensibly by a series of natural blunders. Putting aside political and

constitutional considerations, and looking at the question as purely

military or naval, the case was this: The American colonies were large

and growing communities at a great distance from England. So long as

they remained attached to the mother-country, as they then were

enthusiastically, they formed a solid base for her sea power in that

part of the world; but their extent and population were too great, when

coupled with the distance from England, to afford any hope of holding

them by force, _if_ any powerful nations were willing to help them. This

“if,” however, involved a notorious probability; the humiliation of

France and Spain was so bitter and so recent that they were sure to seek

revenge, and it was well known that France in particular had been

carefully and rapidly building up her navy. Had the colonies been

thirteen islands, the sea power of England would quickly have settled

the question; but instead of such a physical barrier they were separated

only by local jealousies which a common danger sufficiently overcame. To

enter deliberately on such a contest, to try to hold by force so

extensive a territory, with a large hostile population, so far from

home, was to renew the Seven Years’ War with France and Spain, and with

the Americans, against, instead of for, England. The Seven Years’ War

had been so heavy a burden that a wise government would have known that

the added weight could not be borne, and have seen it was necessary to

conciliate the colonists. The government of the day was not wise, and a

large element of England’s sea power was sacrificed; but by mistake, not

willfully; through arrogance, not through weakness.

This steady keeping to a general line of policy was doubtless made

specially easy for successive English governments by the clear

indications of the country’s conditions. Singleness of purpose was to

some extent imposed. The firm maintenance of her sea power, the haughty

determination to make it felt, the wise state of preparation in which

its military element was kept, were yet more due to that feature of her

political institutions which practically gave the government, during the

period in question, into the hands of a class,—a landed aristocracy.

Such a class, whatever its defects otherwise, readily takes up and

carries on a sound political tradition, is naturally proud of its

country’s glory, and comparatively insensible to the sufferings of the

community by which that glory is maintained. It readily lays on the

pecuniary burden necessary for preparation and for endurance of war.

Being as a body rich, it feels those burdens less. Not being commercial,

the sources of its own wealth are not so immediately endangered, and it

does not share that political timidity which characterizes those whose

property is exposed and business threatened,—the proverbial timidity of

capital. Yet in England this class was not insensible to anything that

touched her trade for good or ill. Both houses of Parliament vied in

careful watchfulness, over its extension and protection, and to the

frequency of their inquiries a naval historian attributes the increased

efficiency of the executive power in its management of the navy. Such a

class also naturally imbibes and keeps up a spirit of military honor,

which is of the first importance in ages when military institutions have

not yet provided the sufficient substitute in what is called

_esprit-de-corps_. But although full of class feeling and class

prejudice, which made themselves felt in the navy as well as elsewhere,

their practical sense left open the way of promotion to its highest

honors to the more humbly born; and every age saw admirals who had

sprung from the lowest of the people. In this the temper of the English

upper class differed markedly from that of the French. As late as 1789,

at the outbreak of the Revolution, the French Navy List still bore the

name of an official whose duty was to verify the proofs of noble birth

on the part of those intending to enter the naval school.

Since 1815, and especially in our own day, the government of England has

passed very much more into the hands of the people at large. Whether her

sea power will suffer therefrom remains to be seen. Its broad basis

still remains in a great trade, large mechanical industries, and an

extensive colonial system. Whether a democratic government will have the

foresight, the keen sensitiveness to national position and credit, the

willingness to ensure its prosperity by adequate outpouring of money in

times of peace, all of which are necessary for military preparation, is

yet an open question. Popular governments are not generally favorable to

military expenditure, however necessary, and there are signs that

England tends to drop behind.

17. RESULTS OF THE SEVEN YEARS’ WAR[44]

Nevertheless, the gains of England were very great, not only in

territorial increase, nor yet in maritime preponderance, but in the

prestige and position achieved in the eyes of the nations, now fully

opened to her great resources and mighty power. To these results, won by

the sea, the issue of the continental war offered a singular and

suggestive contrast. France had already withdrawn, along with England,

from all share in that strife, and peace between the other parties to it

was signed five days after the Peace of Paris. The terms of the peace

was simply the _status quo ante bellum_. By the estimate of the King of

Prussia, one hundred and eighty thousand of his soldiers had fallen or

died in this war, out of a kingdom of five million souls, while the

losses of Russia, Austria, and France aggregated four hundred and sixty

thousand men. The result was simply that things remained as they

were.[45] To attribute this only to a difference between the

possibilities of land and sea war is of course absurd. The genius of

Frederick, backed by the money of England, had proved an equal match for

the mismanaged and not always hearty efforts of a coalition numerically

overwhelming.

What does seem a fair conclusion is, that States having a good seaboard,

or even ready access to the ocean by one or two outlets, will find it to

their advantage to seek prosperity and extension by the way of the sea

and of commerce, rather than in attempts to unsettle and modify existing

political arrangements in countries where a more or less long possession

of power has conferred acknowledged rights, and created national

allegiance or political ties. Since the Treaty of Paris in 1763, the

waste places of the world have been rapidly filled; witness our own

continent, Australia, and even South America. A nominal and more or less

clearly defined political possession now generally exists in the most

forsaken regions, though to this statement there are some marked

exceptions; but in many places this political possession is little more

than nominal, and in others of a character so feeble that it cannot rely

upon itself alone for support or protection. The familiar and notorious

example of the Turkish Empire, kept erect only by the forces pressing

upon it from opposing sides, by the mutual jealousies of powers that

have no sympathy with it, is an instance of such weak political tenure;

and though the question is wholly European, all know enough of it to be

aware that the interest and control of the sea powers is among the

chief, if not the first, of the elements that now fix the situation; and

that they, if intelligently used, will direct the future inevitable

changes. Upon the western continents the political condition of the

Central American and tropical South American States is so unstable as to

cause constant anxiety about the maintenance of internal order, and

seriously to interfere with commerce and with the peaceful development

of their resources. So long as—to use a familiar expression—they hurt no

one but themselves, this may go on; but for a long time the citizens of

more stable governments have been seeking to exploit their resources,

and have borne the losses arising from their distracted condition. North

America and Australia still offer large openings to immigration and

enterprise; but they are filling up rapidly, and as the opportunities

there diminish, the demand must arise for a more settled government in

those disordered States, for security to life and for reasonable

stability of institutions enabling merchants and others to count upon

the future. There is certainly no present hope that such a demand can be

fulfilled from the existing native materials; if the same be true when

the demand arises, no theoretical positions, like the Monroe Doctrine,

will prevent interested nations from attempting to remedy the evil by

some measure, which, whatever it may be called, will be a political

interference. Such interferences must produce collisions, which may be

at times settled by arbitration, but can scarcely fail at other times to

cause war. Even for a peaceful solution, that nation will have the

strongest arguments which has the strongest organized force.

It need scarcely be said that the successful piercing of the Central

American Isthmus at any point may precipitate the moment that is sure to

come sooner or later. The profound modification of commercial routes

expected from this enterprise, the political importance to the United

States of such a channel of communication between her Atlantic and

Pacific seaboards, are not, however, the whole nor even the principal

part of the question. As far as can be seen, the time will come when

stable governments for the American tropical States must be assured by

the now existing powerful and stable States of America or Europe. The

geographical position of those States, the climatic conditions, make it

plain at once that sea power will there, even more than in the case of

Turkey, determine what foreign State shall predominate,—if not by actual

possession, by its influence over the native governments. The

geographical position of the United States and her intrinsic power give

her an undeniable advantage; but that advantage will not avail if there

is a great inferiority of organized brute-force, which still remains the

last argument of republics as of kings.

Herein lies to us the great and still living interest of the Seven

Years’ War. In it we have seen and followed England, with an army small

as compared with other States, as is still her case to-day, first

successfully defending her own shores, then carrying her arms in every

direction, spreading her rule and influence over remote regions, and not

only binding them to her obedience, but making them tributary to her

wealth, her strength, and her reputation. As she loosens the grasp and

neutralizes the influence of France and Spain in regions beyond the sea,

there is perhaps seen the prophecy of some other great nation in days

yet to come, that will incline the balance of power in some future sea

war, whose scope will be recognized afterward, if not by contemporaries,

to have been the political future and the economical development of

regions before lost to civilization; but that nation will not be the

United States if the moment find her indifferent, as now, to the empire

of the seas.

The direction then given to England’s efforts, by the instinct of the

nation and the fiery genius of Pitt, continued after the war, and has

profoundly influenced her subsequent policy. Mistress now of North

America, lording it in India, through the company whose territorial

conquests had been ratified by native princes, over twenty millions of

inhabitants,—a population larger than that of Great Britain and having a

revenue respectable alongside of that of the home government,—England,

with yet other rich possessions scattered far and wide over the globe,

had ever before her eyes, as a salutary lesson, the severe chastisement

which the weakness of Spain had allowed her to inflict upon that huge

disjointed empire. The words of the English naval historian of that war,

speaking about Spain, apply with slight modifications to England in our

own day.

“Spain is precisely that power against which England can always contend

with the fairest prospect of advantage and honor. That extensive

monarchy is exhausted at heart, her resources lie at a great distance,

and whatever power commands the sea, may command the wealth and commerce

of Spain. The dominions from which she draws her resources, lying at an

immense distance from the capital and from one another, make it more

necessary for her than for any other State to temporize, until she can

inspire with activity all parts of her enormous but disjointed

empire.”[46]

It would be untrue to say that England is exhausted at heart; but her

dependence upon the outside world is such as to give a certain

suggestiveness to the phrase.

This analogy of positions was not overlooked by England. From that time

forward up to our own day, the possessions won for her by her sea power

have combined with that sea power itself to control her policy. The road

to India—in the days of Clive a distant and perilous voyage on which she

had not a stopping-place of her own—was reinforced as opportunity

offered by the acquisition of St. Helena, of the Cape of Good Hope, of

the Mauritius. When steam made the Red Sea and Mediterranean route

practicable, she acquired Aden, and yet later has established herself at

Socotra. Malta had already fallen into her hands during the wars of the

French Revolution; and her commanding position, as the corner-stone upon

which the coalitions against Napoleon rested, enabled her to claim it at

the Peace of 1815. Being but a short thousand miles from Gibraltar, the

circles of military command exercised by these two places intersect. The

present day has seen the stretch from Malta to the Isthmus of Suez,

formerly without a station, guarded by the cession to her of Cyprus.

Egypt, despite the jealousy of France, has passed under English control.

The importance of that position to India, understood by Napoleon and

Nelson, led the latter at once to send an officer overland to Bombay

with the news of the battle of the Nile and the downfall of Bonaparte’s

hopes. Even now, the jealousy with which England views the advance of

Russia in Central Asia is the result of those days in which her sea

power and resources triumphed over the weakness of D’Aché and the genius

of Suffren, and wrenched the peninsula of India from the ambition of the

French.

“For the first time since the Middle Ages,” says M. Martin, speaking of

the Seven Years’ War, “England had conquered France single-handed almost

without allies, France having powerful auxiliaries. She had conquered

solely by the superiority of her government.”

Yes! but by the superiority of her government using the tremendous

weapon of her sea power. This made her rich and in turn protected the

trade by which she had her wealth. With her money she upheld her few

auxiliaries, mainly Prussia and Hanover, in their desperate strife. Her

power was everywhere that her ships could reach, and there was none to

dispute the sea to her. Where she would she went, and with her went her

guns and her troops. By this mobility her forces were multiplied, those

of her enemies distracted. Ruler of the seas, she everywhere obstructed

its highways. The enemies’ fleets could not join; no great fleet could

get out, or if it did, it was only to meet at once, with uninured

officers and crews, those who were veterans in gales and warfare. Save

in the case of Minorca, she carefully held her own sea bases and eagerly

seized those of the enemy. What a lion in the path was Gibraltar to the

French squadrons of Toulon and Brest! What hope for French succor to

Canada, when the English fleet had Louisburg under its lee?

The one nation that gained in this war was that which used the sea in

peace to earn its wealth, and ruled it in war by the extent of its navy,

by the number of its subjects who lived on the sea or by the sea, and by

its numerous bases of operations scattered over the globe. Yet it must

be observed that these bases themselves would have lost their value if

their communications remained obstructed. Therefore the French lost

Louisburg, Martinique, Pondicherry; so England herself lost Minorca. The

service between the bases and the mobile force, between the ports and

the fleets, is mutual.[47] In this respect the navy is essentially a

light corps; it keeps open the communications between its own ports, it

obstructs those of the enemy; but it sweeps the sea for the service of

the land, it controls the desert that man may live and thrive on the

habitable globe.

18. EIGHTEENTH CENTURY FORMALISM IN NAVAL TACTICS[48]

Tourville,[49] though a brilliant seaman, thus not only typified an era

of transition, with which he was contemporary, but fore-shadowed the

period of merely formal naval warfare, precise, methodical, and

unenterprising, emasculated of military virility, although not of mere

animal courage. He left to his successors the legacy of a great name,

but also unfortunately that of a defective professional tradition. The

splendid days of the French Navy under Louis XIV passed away with

him,—he died in 1701; but during the long period of naval lethargy on

the part of the state, which followed, the French naval officers, as a

class, never wholly lost sight of professional ideals. They proved

themselves, on the rare occasions that offered, before 1715 and during

the wars of Hawke and Rodney, not only gallant seamen after the pattern

of Tourville, but also exceedingly capable tacticians, upon a system

good as far as it went, but defective on Tourville’s express lines, in

aiming rather at exact dispositions and defensive security than at the

thorough-going initiative and persistence which confounds and destroys

the enemy. “War,” to use Napoleon’s phrase, “was to be waged without

running risks.” The sword was drawn, but the scabbard was kept ever open

for its retreat.

The English, in the period of reaction which succeeded the Dutch wars,

produced their own caricature of systematized tactics. Even under its

influence, up to 1715, it is only just to say they did not construe

naval skill to mean anxious care to keep one’s own ships intact. Rooke,

off Malaga, in 1704, illustrated professional fearlessness of

consequences as conspicuously as he had shown personal daring in the

boat attack at La Hogue; but his plans of battle exemplified the

particularly British form of inefficient naval action. There was no

great difference in aggregate force between the French fleet and that of

the combined Anglo-Dutch under his orders. The former, drawing up in the

accustomed line of battle, ship following ship in a single column,

awaited attack. Rooke, having the advantage of the wind, and therefore

the power of engaging at will, formed his command in a similar and

parallel line a few miles off, and thus all stood down together, the

ships maintaining their line parallel to that of the enemy, and coming

into action at practically the same moment, van to van, center to

center, rear to rear. This ignored wholly the essential maxim of all

intelligent warfare, which is so to engage as markedly to outnumber the

enemy at a point of main collision. If he be broken there, before the

remainder of his force come up, the chances all are that a decisive

superiority will be established by this alone, not to mention the moral

effect of partial defeat and disorder. Instead of this, the impact at

Malaga was so distributed as to produce a substantial equality from one

end to the other of the opposing fronts. The French, indeed, by

strengthening their center relatively to the van and rear, to some

extent modified this condition in the particular instance; but the fact

does not seem to have induced any alteration in Rooke’s dispositions.

Barring mere accident, nothing conclusive can issue from such

arrangements. The result accordingly was a drawn battle, although Rooke

says that the fight, which was maintained on both sides “with great fury

for three hours, ... was the sharpest day’s service that I ever saw;”

and he had seen much,—Beachy Head, La Hogue, Vigo Bay, not to mention

his own great achievement in the capture of Gibraltar.

This method of attack remained the ideal—if such a word is not misnomer

in such a case—of the British Navy, not merely as a matter of

irreflective professional acceptance, but laid down in the official

“Fighting Instructions.”[50] It cannot be said that these err on the

side of lucidity; but their meaning to contemporaries in this particular

respect is ascertained, not only by fair inference from their contents,

but by the practical commentary of numerous actions under commonplace

commanders-in-chief. It further received authoritative formulation in

the specific finding of the Court-Martial upon Admiral Byng, which was

signed by thirteen experienced-officers. “Admiral Byng should have

caused his ships to tack together, and should immediately have borne

down upon the enemy; his van steering for the enemy’s van, his rear for

its rear, each ship making for the one opposite to her in the enemy’s

line, under such sail as would have enabled the worst sailer to preserve

her station in the line of battle.”[51] Each phrase of this opinion is a

reflection of an article in the Instructions. The line of battle was the

naval fetish of the day; and, be it remarked, it was the more dangerous

because in itself an admirable and necessary instrument, constructed on

principles essentially accurate. A standard wholly false may have its

error demonstrated with comparative ease; but no servitude is more

hopeless than that of unintelligent submission to an idea formally

correct, yet incomplete. It has all the vicious misleading of a

half-truth unqualified by appreciation of modifying conditions; and so

seamen who disdained theories, and hugged the belief in themselves as

“practical,” became _doctrinaires_ in the worst sense.

19. THE NEW TACTICS[52]

_Rodney and De Guichen, April 17, 1780_

Despite his brilliant personal courage and professional skill, which in

the matter of tactics was far in advance of his contemporaries in

England, Rodney, as a commander-in-chief, belongs rather to the wary,

cautious school of the French tacticians than to the impetuous,

unbounded eagerness of Nelson. As in Tourville we have seen the

desperate fighting of the seventeenth century, unwilling to leave its

enemy, merging into the formal, artificial—we may almost say

trifling—parade tactics of the eighteenth, so in Rodney we shall see the

transition from those ceremonious duels to an action which, while

skillful in conception, aimed at serious results. For it would be unjust

to Rodney to press the comparison to the French admirals of his day.

With a skill that De Guichen recognized as soon as they crossed swords,

Rodney meant mischief, not idle flourishes. Whatever incidental favors

fortune might bestow by the way, the objective from which his eye never

wandered was the French fleet,—the organized military force of the enemy

on the sea. And on the day when Fortune forsook the opponent who had

neglected her offers, when the conqueror of Cornwallis failed to strike

while he had Rodney at a disadvantage, the latter won a victory[53]

which redeemed England from the depths of anxiety, and restored to her

by one blow all those islands which the cautious tactics of the allies

had for a moment gained, save only Tobago.

[Illustration: RODNEY & GUICHEN APRIL 17, 1780.]

De Guichen and Rodney met for the first time on the 17th of April, 1780,

three weeks after the arrival of the latter. The French fleet was

beating to windward in the channel between Martinique and Dominica, when

the enemy was made in the south-east. A day was spent in maneuvering for

the weather-gage, which Rodney got. The two fleets being now well to

leeward of the islands (see Plate), both on the starboard tack heading

to the northward and the French on the lee bow of the English, Rodney,

who was carrying a press of sail, signalled to his fleet that he meant

to attack the enemy’s rear and center with his whole force; and when he

had reached the position he thought suitable, ordered them to keep away

eight points (90°) together (A, A, A). De Guichen, seeing the danger of

the rear, wore his fleet all together and stood down to succor it.

Rodney, finding himself foiled, hauled up again on the same tack as the

enemy, both fleets now heading to the southward and eastward.[54] Later,

he again made signal for battle, followed an hour after, just at noon,

by the order (quoting his own despatch), “for every ship to bear down

and steer for her opposite in the enemy’s line.” This, which sounds like

the old story of ship to ship, Rodney explains to have meant her

opposite at the moment, not her opposite in numerical order. His own

words are: “In a slanting position, that my leading ships might attack

the van ships of the enemy’s center division, and the whole British

fleet be opposed to only two thirds of the enemy” (B, B). The difficulty

and misunderstanding which followed seem to have sprung mainly from the

defective character of the signal book. Instead of doing as the admiral

wished, the leading ships (a) carried sail so as to reach their supposed

station abreast their numerical opposite in the order. Rodney stated

afterward that when he bore down the second time, the French fleet was

in a very extended line of battle; and that, had his orders been obeyed,

the center and rear must have been disabled before the van could have

joined.

There seems every reason to believe that Rodney’s intentions throughout

were to double on the French, as asserted. The failure sprang from the

signal book and tactical inefficiency of the fleet; for which he, having

lately joined, was not answerable. But the ugliness of his fence was so

apparent to De Guichen, that he exclaimed, when the English fleet kept

away the first time, that six or seven of his ships were gone; and sent

word to Rodney that if his signals had been obeyed he would have had him

for his prisoner.[55] A more convincing proof that he recognized the

dangerousness of his enemy is to be found in the fact that he took care

not to have the lee-gage in their subsequent encounters. Rodney’s

careful plans being upset, he showed that with them he carried all the

stubborn courage of the most downright fighter; taking his own ship

close to the enemy and ceasing only when the latter hauled off, her

foremast and mainyard gone, and her hull so damaged that she could

hardly be kept afloat.

20. SEA POWER IN THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION[56]

_Graves and De Grasse off the Chesapeake_

[Preliminary to the events narrated, the general naval situation was as

follows: The main British and French fleets, under Rodney and De Grasse,

respectively, were in the West Indies, while a small British division

was under Graves at New York, and a French squadron under De Barras was

based on Newport, R. I. The squadrons on the American coast had met in a

desultory action off the Virginia capes on March 16, 1781, after which

the French commander had returned to Newport and left the British in

control.—EDITOR.]

The way of the sea being thus open and held in force, two thousand more

English troops sailing from New York reached Virginia on the 26th of

March, and the subsequent arrival of Cornwallis in May raised the number

to seven thousand. The operations of the contending forces during the

spring and summer months, in which Lafayette commanded the Americans, do

not concern our subject. Early in August, Cornwallis, acting under

orders from Clinton, withdrew his troops into the peninsula between the

York and James rivers, and occupied Yorktown.

Washington and Rochambeau had met on the 21st of May, and decided that

the situation demanded that the effort of the French West Indian fleet,

when it came, should be directed against either New York or the

Chesapeake. This was the tenor of the despatch found by De Grasse at Cap

Français,[57] and meantime the allied generals drew their troops toward

New York, where they would be on hand for the furtherance of one object,

and nearer the second if they had to make for it.

In either case the result, in the opinion both of Washington and of the

French government, depended upon superior sea power; but Rochambeau had

privately notified the admiral that his own preference was for the

Chesapeake as the scene of the intended operations, and moreover the

French government had declined to furnish the means for a formal siege

of New York.[58] The enterprise therefore assumed the form of an

extensive military combination, dependent upon ease and rapidity of

movement, and upon blinding the eyes of the enemy to the real

objective,—purposes to which the peculiar qualities of a navy admirably

lent themselves. The shorter distance to be traversed, the greater depth

of water and easier pilotage of the Chesapeake, were further reasons

which would commend the scheme to the judgment of a seaman; and De

Grasse readily accepted it, without making difficulties or demanding

modifications which would have involved discussion and delay.

Having made his decision, the French admiral acted with great good

judgment, promptitude, and vigor. The same frigate that brought

despatches from Washington was sent back, so that by August 15 the

allied generals knew of the intended coming of the fleet. Thirty-five

hundred soldiers were spared by the governor of Cap Français, upon the

condition of a Spanish squadron anchoring at the place, which De Grasse

procured. He also raised from the governor of Havana the money urgently

needed by the Americans; and finally, instead of weakening his force by

sending convoys to France, as the court had wished, he took every

available ship to the Chesapeake. To conceal his coming as long as

possible, he passed through the Bahama Channel, as a less frequented

route, and on the 30th of August anchored in Lynnhaven Bay, just within

the capes of the Chesapeake, with twenty-eight ships-of-the-line. Three

days before, August 27, the French squadron at Newport, eight

ships-of-the-line with four frigates and eighteen transports under M. de

Barras, sailed for the rendezvous; making, however, a wide circuit out

to sea to avoid the English. This course was the more necessary as the

French siege-artillery was with it. The troops under Washington and

Rochambeau[59] had crossed the Hudson on the 24th of August, moving

toward the head of Chesapeake Bay. Thus the different armed forces, both

land and sea, were converging toward their objective, Cornwallis.

The English were unfortunate in all directions. Rodney, learning of De

Grasse’s departure, sent fourteen ships-of-the-line under Admiral Hood

to North America, and himself sailed for England in August, on account

of ill health. Hood, going by the direct route, reached the Chesapeake

three days before De Grasse, looked into the bay, and finding it empty

went on to New York. There he met five ships-of-the-line under Admiral

Graves, who, being senior officer, took command of the whole force and

sailed on the 31st of August for the Chesapeake, hoping to intercept De

Barras before he could join De Grasse. It was not till two days later

that Sir Henry Clinton was persuaded that the allied armies had gone

against Cornwallis, and had too far the start to be overtaken.

[Illustration: GRAVES AND DE GRASSE _5th Sept. 1781_ OFF CHESAPEAKE BAY]

Admiral Graves was painfully surprised, on making the Chesapeake, to

find anchored there a fleet which from its numbers could only be an

enemy’s. Nevertheless, he stood in to meet it, and as De Grasse got

under way, allowing his ships to be counted, the sense of numerical

inferiority—nineteen to twenty-four—did not deter the English admiral

from attacking. The clumsiness of his method, however, betrayed his

gallantry; many of his ships were roughly handled, without any advantage

being gained.[60] De Grasse, expecting De Barras, remained outside five

days, keeping the English fleet in play without coming to action; then

returning to port he found De Barras safely at anchor. Graves went back

to New York, and with him disappeared the last hope of succor that was

to gladden Cornwallis’s eyes. The siege was steadily endured, but the

control of the sea made only one issue possible, and the English forces

were surrendered October 19, 1781. With this disaster the hope of

subduing the colonies died in England. The conflict flickered through a

year longer, but no serious operations were undertaken.

... The defeat of Graves and subsequent surrender of Cornwallis did not

end the naval operations in the western hemisphere. On the contrary, one

of the most interesting tactical feats and the most brilliant victory of

the whole war were yet to grace the English flag in the West Indies; but

with the events at Yorktown the patriotic interest for Americans closes.

Before quitting that struggle for independence, it must again be

affirmed that its successful ending, at least at so early a date, was

due to the control of the sea,—to sea power in the hands of the French,

and its improper distribution by the English authorities. This assertion

may be safely rested on the authority of the one man who, above all

others, thoroughly knew the resources of the country, the temper of the

people, the difficulties of the struggle, and whose name is still the

highest warrant for sound, quiet, unfluttered good sense and patriotism.

The keynote to all Washington’s utterances is set in the “Memorandum for

concerting a plan of operations with the French army,” dated July 15,

1780, and sent by the hands of Lafayette:

“The Marquis de Lafayette will be pleased to communicate the following

general ideas to Count de Rochambeau and the Chevalier de Ternay, as the

sentiments of the underwritten:

“I. _In any operation, and under all circumstances, a decisive naval

superiority is to be considered as a fundamental principle, and the

basis upon which every hope of success must ultimately depend._”

This, however, though the most formal and decisive expression of

Washington’s views, is but one among many others equally distinct.

21. THE FRENCH NAVY DEMORALIZED BY THE REVOLUTION[61]

... The seamen and the navy of France were swept away by the same

current of thought and feeling which was carrying before it the whole

nation; and the government, tossed to and fro by every wave of popular

emotion, was at once too, weak and too ignorant of the needs of the

service to repress principles and to amend defects which were fatal to

its healthy life.

It is particularly instructive to dwell upon this phase of the

revolutionary convulsions of France, because the result in this

comparatively small, but still most important, part of the body politic

was so different from that which was found elsewhere. Whatever the

mistakes, the violence, the excesses of every kind, into which this

popular rising was betrayed, they were symptomatic of strength, not of

weakness,—deplorable accompaniments of a movement which, with all its

drawbacks, was marked by overwhelming force.

It was the inability to realize the might in this outburst of popular

feeling, long pent up, that caused the mistaken forecasts of many

statesmen of the day; who judged of the power and reach of the movement

by indications—such as the finances, the condition of the army, the

quality of the known leaders—ordinarily fairly accurate tests of a

country’s endurance, but which utterly misled those who looked to them

only and did not take into account the mighty impulse of a whole nation

stirred to its depths. Why, then, was the result so different in the

navy? Why was it so weak, not merely nor chiefly in quantity, but in

quality? and that, too, in days so nearly succeeding the prosperous

naval era of Louis XVI. Why should the same throe which brought forth

the magnificent armies of Napoleon have caused the utter weakness of the

sister service, not only amid the disorders of the Republic, but also

under the powerful organization of the Empire?

The immediate reason was that, to a service of a very special character,

involving special exigencies, calling for special aptitudes, and

consequently demanding special knowledge of its requirements in order to

deal wisely with it, were applied the theories of men wholly ignorant of

those requirements,—men who did not even believe that they existed.

Entirely without experimental knowledge, or any other kind of knowledge,

of the conditions of sea life, they were unable to realize the obstacles

to those processes by which they would build up their navy, and

according to which they proposed to handle it. This was true not only of

the wild experiments of the early days of the Republic; the reproach may

fairly be addressed to the great emperor himself, that he had scarcely

any appreciation of the factors conditioning efficiency at sea; nor did

he seemingly ever reach any such sense of them as would enable him to

understand why the French navy failed. “Disdaining,” says Jean Bon

Saint-André, the Revolutionary commissioner whose influence on naval

organization was unbounded, “_disdaining_, through calculation and

reflection, _skillful evolutions_, perhaps our seamen will think it more

fitting and useful to try those boarding actions in which the Frenchman

was always conqueror, and thus astonish Europe by new prodigies of

valor.”[62] “Courage and audacity,” says Captain Chevalier, “had become

in his eyes the only qualities necessary to our officers.” “The

English,” said Napoleon, “will become very small when France shall have

two or three admirals willing to die.”[63] So commented, with pathetic

yet submissive irony, the ill-fated admiral, Villeneuve, upon whom fell

the weight of the emperor’s discontent with his navy: “Since his Majesty

thinks that nothing but audacity and resolve are needed to succeed in

the naval officer’s calling, I shall leave nothing to be desired.”[64]

... In truth men’s understandings, as well as their _morale_ and

beliefs, were in a chaotic state. In the navy, as in society, the

_morale_ suffered first. Insubordination and mutiny, insult and murder,

preceded the blundering measures which in the end destroyed the fine

_personnel_ that the monarchy bequeathed to the French republic. This

insubordination broke out very soon after the affairs of the Bastille

and the forcing of the palace at Versailles; that is, very soon after

the powerlessness of the executive was felt. Singularly, yet

appropriately, the first victim was the most distinguished flag-officer

of the French navy.[65]

During the latter half of 1789 disturbances occurred in all the seaport

towns; in Havre, in Cherbourg, in Brest, in Rochefort, in Toulon.

Everywhere the town authorities meddled with the concerns of the navy

yards and of the fleet, discontented seamen and soldiers, idle or

punished, rushed to the town halls with complaints against their

officers. The latter, receiving no support from Paris, yielded

continually, and things naturally went from bad to worse.

22. HOWE’S VICTORY OF JUNE 1, 1794[66]

[Prior to the engagement, the French fleet had met and was convoying to

port 180 vessels from America with food-stuffs of which France was then

in dire need. The British fleet encountered the French 400 miles west of

Ushant on May 28, and in the four days of maneuvering and pursuit which

followed, Howe displayed marked energy and tactical skill. Though the

French fleet was defeated in the ensuing battle, it covered the escape

of the convoy.—EDITOR.]

The French admiral on the evening of the 29th saw that he now must

fight, and at a disadvantage; consequently, he could not hope to protect

the convoy. As to save this was his prime object, the next best thing

was to entice the British out of its path. With this view he stood away

to the north-west; while a dense fog coming on both favored his design

and prevented further encounter during the two ensuing days, throughout

which Howe continued to pursue. In the evening of May 31 the weather

cleared, and at daybreak the next morning the enemies were in position,

ready for battle, two long columns of ships, heading west, the British

twenty-five, the French again twenty-six through the junction of the

four vessels mentioned. Howe now had cause to regret his absent six, and

to ponder Nelson’s wise saying, “Only numbers can annihilate.”

This time for maneuvering was past. Able tactician as he personally was,

and admirable as had been the direction of his efforts in the two days’

fighting, Howe had been forced in them to realize two things, namely,

that his captains were, singly, superior in seamanship, and their crews

in gunnery, to the French; and again, that in the ability to work

together as a fleet the British were so deficient as to promise very

imperfect results, if he attempted any but the simplest formation. To

such, therefore, he resorted; falling back upon the old, unskillful,

sledge-hammer fashion of the British navy. Arranging his ships in one

long line, three miles from the enemy, he made them all go down

together, each to attack a specified opponent, coming into action as

nearly as might be at the same instant. Thus the French, from the

individual inferiority of the units of their fleet, would be at all

points over-powered. The issue justified the forecast; but the manner of

performance was curiously and happily marked by Howe’s own peculiar

phlegm. There was a long summer day ahead for fighting, and no need for

hurry. The order was first accurately formed, and canvas reduced to

proper proportions. Then the crews went to breakfast. After breakfast,

the ships all headed for the hostile line, under short sail, the admiral

keeping them in hand during the approach as an infantry officer dresses

his company. Hence the shock from end to end was so nearly simultaneous

as to induce success unequalled in any engagement conducted on the same

primitive plan.

Picturesque as well as sublime, animating as well as solemn, on that

bright Sunday morning, was this prelude to the stern game of war about

to be played: the quiet summer sea stirred only by a breeze sufficient

to cap with white the little waves that ruffled its surface; the dark

hulls gently rippling the water aside in their slow advance, a ridge of

foam curling on either side of the furrow ploughed by them in their

onward way; their massive sides broken by two, or at times three, rows

of ports, whence, the tompions drawn, yawned the sullen lines of guns,

behind which, unseen, but easily realized by the instructed eye,

clustered the groups of ready seamen who served each piece. Aloft swung

leisurely to and fro the tall spars, which ordinarily, in so light a

wind, would be clad in canvas from deck to truck, but whose naked

trimness now proclaimed the deadly purpose of that still approach. Upon

the high poops, where floated the standard of either nation, gathered

round each chief the little knot of officers through whom commands were

issued and reports received, the nerves along which thrilled the

impulses of the great organism, from its head, the admiral, through

every member to the dark lowest decks, nearly awash, where, as farthest

from the captain’s own oversight, the senior lieutenants controlled the

action of the ships’ heaviest batteries.

On board the _Queen Charlotte_, Lord Howe, whose burden of sixty-eight

years had for four days found no rest save what he could snatch in an

arm-chair, now, at the prospect of battle, “displayed an animation,”

writes an eye-witness, “of which, at his age, and after such fatigue of

body and mind, I had not thought him capable. He seemed to contemplate

the result as one of unbounded satisfaction.” By his side stood his

fleet-captain, Curtis, of whose service among the floating batteries,

and during the siege of Gibraltar, the governor of the fortress had

said, “He is the man to whom the king is chiefly indebted for its

security;” and Codrington, then a lieutenant, who afterwards commanded

the allied fleets at Navarino. Five ships to the left, Collingwood, in

the _Barfleur_, was making to the admiral whose flag she bore the remark

that stirred Thackeray: “Our wives are now about going to church, but we

will ring about these Frenchmen’s ears a peal which will drown their

bells.” The French officers, both admirals and captains, were mainly

unknown men, alike then and thereafter. The fierce flames of the

Revolution had swept away the men of the old school, mostly aristocrats,

and time had not yet brought forward the very few who during the

Napoleonic period showed marked capacity. The commander-in-chief,

Villaret-Joyeuse, had three years before been a lieutenant. He had a

high record for gallantry, but was without antecedents as a general

officer. With him, on the poop of the _Montagne_, which took her name

from Robespierre’s political supporters, stood that anomalous companion

of the generals and admirals of the day, the Revolutionary commissioner,

Jean Bon Saint-André, about to learn by experience the practical working

of the system he had advocated, to disregard all tests of ability save

patriotism and courage, depreciating practice and skill as unnecessary

to the valor of the true Frenchman.

As the British line drew near the French, Howe said to Curtis, “Prepare

the signal for close action.” “There is no such signal,” replied Curtis.

“No,” said the admiral, “but there is one for closer action, and I only

want that to be made in case of captains not doing their duty.” Then

closing a little signal book he always carried, he continued to those

around him, “Now, gentlemen, no more book, no more signals. I look to

you to do the duty of the _Queen Charlotte_ in engaging the flagship. I

don’t want the ships to be bilge to bilge, but if you can lock the

yardarms, so much the better; the battle will be the quicker decided.”

His purpose was to go through the French line, and fight the _Montagne_

on the far side. Some doubted their succeeding, but Howe overbore them.

“That’s right, my lord!” cried Bowen, the sailing-master, who looked to

the ship’s steering. “The _Charlotte_ will make room for herself.” She

pushed close under the French ship’s stern, grazing her ensign, and

raking her from stern to stem with a withering fire, beneath which fell

three hundred men. A length or two beyond lay the French _Jacobin_. Howe

ordered the _Charlotte_ to luff, and place herself between the two. “If

we do,” said Bowen, “we shall be on board one of them.” “What is that to

you, sir?” asked Howe quickly. “Oh!” muttered the master, not inaudibly.

“D—n my eyes if I care, if you don’t. I’ll go near enough to singe some

of our whiskers.” And then, seeing by the _Jacobin’s_ rudder that she

was going off, he brought the _Charlotte_ sharp round, her jib boom

grazing the second Frenchman as her side had grazed the flag of the

first.

From this moment the battle raged furiously from end to end of the field

for nearly an hour,—a wild scene of smoke and confusion, under cover of

which many a fierce ship duel was fought, while here and there men

wandered, lost, in a maze of bewilderment that neutralized their better

judgment. An English naval captain tells a service tradition of one who

was so busy watching the compass, to keep his position in the ranks,

that he lost sight of his antagonist, and never again found him. Many a

quaint incident passed, recorded or unrecorded, under that sulphurous

canopy. A British ship, wholly dismasted, lay between two enemies, her

captain desperately wounded. A murmur of surrender was somewhere heard;

but as the first lieutenant checked it with firm authority, a cock flew

upon the stump of a mast and crowed lustily. The exultant note found

quick response in hearts not given to despair, and a burst of merriment,

accompanied with three cheers, replied to the bird’s triumphant scream.

On board the _Brunswick_, in her struggle with the _Vengeur_, one of the

longest and fiercest fights the sea has ever seen, the cocked hat was

shot off the effigy of the Duke of Brunswick, which she bore as a

figure-head. A deputation from the crew gravely requested the captain to

allow the use of his spare chapeau, which was securely nailed on, and

protected his grace’s wig during the rest of the action. After this

battle with the ships of the new republic, the partisans of monarchy

noted with satisfaction that, among the many royal figures that

surmounted the stems of the British fleet, not one lost his crown. Of a

harum-scarum Irish captain are told two droll stories. After being hotly

engaged for some time with a French ship, the fire of the latter

slackened, and then ceased. He called to know if she had surrendered.

The reply was, “No.” “Then,” shouted he, “d—n you, why don’t you fire?”

Having disposed of his special antagonist without losing his own spars,

the same man kept along in search of new adventures, until he came to a

British ship totally dismasted and otherwise badly damaged. She was

commanded by a captain of rigidly devout piety. “Well, Jemmy,” hailed

the Irishman, “you are pretty well mauled; but never mind, Jemmy, whom

the Lord loveth he chasteneth.”

The French have transmitted to us less of anecdote, nor is it easy to

connect the thought of humor with those grimly earnest republicans and

the days of the Terror. There is, indeed, something unintentionally

funny in the remark of the commander of one of the captured ships to his

captors. They had, it was true, dismasted half the French fleet, and had

taken over a fourth; yet he assured them it could not be considered a

victory, “but merely a butchery, in which the British had shown neither

science nor tactics.” The one story, noble and enduring, that will ever

be associated with the French on the 1st of June is in full keeping with

the temper of the times and the enthusiasm of the nation. The

seventy-four-gun ship _Vengeur_, after a three hours’ fight, yardarm to

yardarm, with the British _Brunswick_, was left in a sinking state by

her antagonist, who was herself in no condition to help. In the

confusion, the _Vengeur’s_ peril was for some time not observed; and

when it was, the British ships that came to her aid had time only to

remove part of her survivors. In their report of the event the latter

said: “Scarcely had the boats pulled clear of the sides, when the most

frightful spectacle was offered to our gaze. Those of our comrades who

remained on board the _Vengeur du Peuple_, with hands raised to heaven,

implored, with lamentable cries, the help for which they could no longer

hope. Soon disappeared the ship and the unhappy victims it contained. In

the midst of the horror with which this scene inspired us all, we could

not avoid a feeling of admiration mingled with our grief. As we drew

away, we heard some of our comrades still offering prayers for the

welfare of their country. The last cries of these unfortunates were,

‘Vive la République!’ They died uttering them.” Over a hundred Frenchmen

thus went down.

Seven French ships were captured, including the sunk _Vengeur_. Five

more were wholly dismasted, but escaped,—a good fortune mainly to be

attributed to Howe’s utter physical prostration, due to his advanced

years and the continuous strain of the past five days. He now went to

bed, completely worn out. “We all got round him,” wrote an officer,

Lieutenant Codrington, who was present; “indeed, I saved him from a

tumble, he was so weak that from a roll of the ship he was nearly

falling into the waist. ‘Why, you hold me up as if I were a child,’ he

said good-humoredly.” Had he been younger, there can be little doubt

that the fruits of victory would have been gathered with an ardor which

his assistant, Curtis, failed to show.

23. NELSON’S STRATEGY AT COPENHAGEN[67]

[In 1800 Russia, Sweden, and Denmark, under the manipulation of

Napoleon, formed a “League of Armed Neutrality” to resist British

restrictions on their trade with France. To reinforce diplomatic

pressure, Great Britain sent against the league a fleet of twenty ships,

of which Nelson was second in command under Sir Hyde Parker. Throughout

the campaign, writes Mahan, Nelson “lifted and carried on his shoulders

the dead weight of his superior.”—EDITOR.]

The fleet sailed from Yarmouth on the 12th of March, 1801; and on the

19th, although there had been some scattering in a heavy gale, nearly

all were collected off the Skaw, the northern point of Jutland at the

entrance of the Kattegat. The wind being north-west was fair for going

to Copenhagen, and Nelson, if in command, would have advanced at once

with the ambassador on board. “While the negotiation is going on,” he

said, “the Dane should see our flag waving every moment he lifted his

head.” As it was, the envoy went forward with a frigate alone and the

fleet waited. On the 12th it was off Elsineur, where the envoy rejoined,

Denmark having rejected the British terms.

[Illustration: THE BALTIC AND ITS APPROACHES.]

This amounted to an acceptance of hostilities, and it only remained to

the commander-in-chief to act at once; for the wind was favorable, an

advantage which at any moment might be lost. On this day Nelson

addressed Parker a letter, summing up in a luminous manner the features

of the situation and the different methods of action. “Not a moment

should be lost in attacking,” he said; “we shall never be so good a

match for them as at this moment.” He next hinted, what he had probably

already said, that the fleet ought to have been off Copenhagen, and not

at Elsineur, when the negotiation failed. “Then you might instantly

attack and there would be scarcely a doubt but the Danish fleet would be

destroyed, and the capital made so hot that Denmark would listen to

reason and its true interest.” Since, however, the mistake of losing so

much time had been made, he seeks to stir his superior to lose no more.

“Almost the safety, certainly the honor, of England is more entrusted to

you than ever yet fell to the lot of any British officer; ... never did

our country depend so much on the success of any fleet as of this.”

Having thus shown the necessity for celerity, Nelson next discussed the

plan of operations. Copenhagen is on the east side of the island of

Zealand, fronting the coast of Sweden, from which it is separated by the

passage called the Sound. On the west the island is divided from the

other parts of Denmark by the Great Belt. The navigation of the latter

being much the more difficult, the preparations of the Danes had been

made on the side of the Sound, and chiefly about Copenhagen itself. For

half a mile from the shore in front of the city, flats extend, and in

the Sound itself, at a distance of little over a mile, is a long shoal

called the Middle Ground. Between these two bodies of shallow water is a

channel, called the King’s, through which a fleet of heavy ships could

sail, and from whose northern end a deep pocket stretches toward

Copenhagen, forming the harbor proper. The natural point of attack

therefore appears to be at the north; and there the Danes had erected

powerful works, rising on piles out of the shoal water off the harbor’s

mouth and known as the Three-Crown Batteries. Nelson, however, pointed

out that not only was this head of the line exceedingly strong, but that

the wind that was fair to attack would be foul to return; therefore a

disabled ship would have no escape but by passing through the King’s

Channel. Doing so she would have to run the gantlet of a line of armed

hulks, which the Danes had established as floating batteries along the

inner edge of the channel—covering the front of Copenhagen—and would

also be separated from her fleet. Nor was this difficulty, which may be

called tactical, the only objection to a plan that he disparaged as

“taking the bull by the horns.” He remarked that so long as the British

fleet remained in the Sound, without entering the Baltic, the way was

left open for both the Swedes and the Russians, if released by the ice,

to make a junction with the Danes. Consequently, he advised that a

sufficiently strong force of the lighter ships-of-theline should pass

outside the Middle Ground, despite the difficulties of navigation, which

were not insuperable, and come up in rear of the city. There they would

interpose between the Danes and their allies, and be in position to

assail the weaker part of the hostile order. He offered himself to lead

this detachment.

This whole letter of March 24, 1801,[68] possesses peculiar interest;

for it shows with a rare particularity, elicited by the need he felt of

arousing and convincing his superior, Nelson’s clear discernment of the

decisive features of a military situation. The fame of this great

admiral has depended less upon his conduct of campaigns than upon the

renowned victories he won in the actual collision of fleet with fleet;

and even then has been mutilated by the obstinacy with which, despite

the perfectly evident facts, men have persisted in seeing in them

nothing but dash,—heart, not head. Throughout his correspondence, it is

true, there are frequent traces of the activity of his mental faculties

and of the general accuracy of his military conclusions; but ordinarily

it is from his actions that his reasonings and principles must be

deduced. In the present case we have the views he held and the course he

evidently would have pursued clearly formulated by himself; and it

cannot but be a subject of regret that the naval world should have lost

so fine an illustration as he would there have given of the principles

and conduct of naval warfare. He concluded his letter with a suggestion

worthy of Napoleon himself, and which, if adopted, would have brought

down the Baltic Confederacy with a crash that would have resounded

throughout Europe. “Supposing us through the Belt with the wind first

westerly, would it not be possible to go with the fleet, or detach ten

ships of three and two decks, with one bomb and two fireships, to Revel,

to destroy the Russian squadron at that place? I do not see the great

risk of such a detachment, and with the remainder to attempt the

business at Copenhagen. The measure may be thought bold, but I am of

opinion the boldest are the safest; and our country demands a most

vigorous exertion of her force, directed with judgment.”

Committed as the Danes were to a stationary defense, this recommendation

to strike at the soul of the confederacy evinced the clearest perception

of the key to the situation, which Nelson himself summed up in the

following words: “I look upon the Northern League to be like a tree, of

which Paul was the trunk and Sweden and Denmark the branches. If I can

get at the trunk and hew it down, the branches fall of course; but I may

lop the branches and yet not be able to fell the tree, and my power must

be weaker when its greatest strength is required”[69]—that is, the

Russians should have been attacked before the fleet was weakened, as it

inevitably must be, by the battle with the Danes. “If we could have cut

up the Russian fleet,” he said again, “that was my object.” Whatever

Denmark’s wishes about fighting, she was by her continental possessions

tied to the policy of Russia and Prussia, either of whom could overwhelm

her by land. She dared not disregard them. The course of both depended

upon the czar; for the temporizing policy of Prussia would at once

embrace his withdrawal from the league as an excuse for doing the same.

At Revel were twelve Russian ships-of-the-line, fully half their Baltic

fleet, whose destruction would have paralyzed the remainder and the

naval power of the empire. To persuade Parker to such a step was,

however, hopeless. “Our fleet would never have acted against Russia and

Sweden,” wrote Nelson afterwards, “although Copenhagen would have been

burned; for Sir Hyde Parker was determined not to leave Denmark hostile

in his rear;”[70] a reason whose technical accuracy under all the

circumstances was nothing short of pedantic, and illustrates the immense

distance between a good and accomplished officer, which Parker was, and

a genius whose comprehension of rules serves only to guide, not to

fetter, his judgment.

Although unable to rise equal to the great opportunity indicated by

Nelson, Sir Hyde Parker adopted his suggestion as to the method and

direction of the principal attack upon the defenses of Copenhagen. For

this, Nelson asked ten ships-of-the-line and a number of smaller

vessels, with which he undertook to destroy the floating batteries

covering the front of the city. These being reduced, the bomb vessels

could be placed so as to play with effect upon the dockyard, arsenals,

and the town, in case further resistance was made.

[The fleet entered the Sound and anchored off Copenhagen on March 26. On

April 2 Nelson attacked from the southward as he had suggested, and

after a hard-fought battle forced a fourteen weeks’ armistice which

practically secured the British aims, since it gave opportunity to

proceed against Sweden and Russia. Nelson was given chief command on May

5, and two days later sailed for Revel, but the death of the Czar Paul

had already brought a favorable change in Russia’s policy and made

further action unnecessary.—EDITOR.]

24. ENGLAND’S FIRST LINE OF DEFENSE[71]

[After the Copenhagen campaign, for a brief period in 1801, Nelson

commanded the naval defense forces in the Channel. When, after two years

of peace, hostilities were renewed in 1803, he sailed in the _Victory_

to take command in the Mediterranean. During the following years of the

war, “The British squadrons, hugging the French coasts and blocking the

French arsenals, were the first line of defense, covering British

interests from the Baltic to Egypt, the British colonies in the four

quarters of the globe, and the British merchantmen which whitened every

sea.”[72]—EDITOR.]

Meanwhile that period of waiting from May, 1803, to August, 1805, when

the tangled net of naval and military movements began to unravel, was a

striking and wonderful pause in the world’s history. On the heights

above Boulogne, and along the narrow strip of beach from Étaples to

Vimereux, were encamped one hundred and thirty thousand of the most

brilliant soldiery of all time, the soldiers who had fought in Germany,

Italy, and Egypt, soldiers who were yet to win, from Austria, Ulm and

Austerlitz, and from Prussia, Auerstadt and Jena, to hold their own,

though barely, at Eylau against the army of Russia, and to overthrow it

also, a few months later, on the bloody field of Friedland. Growing

daily more vigorous in the bracing sea air and the hardy life laid out

for them, they could on fine days, as they practised the varied

maneuvers which were to perfect the vast host in embarking and

disembarking with order and rapidity, see the white cliffs fringing the

only country that to the last defied their arms. Far away, Cornwallis

off Brest, Collingwood off Rochefort, Pellew off Ferrol, were battling

the wild gales of the Bay of Biscay, in that tremendous and sustained

vigilance which reached its utmost tension in the years preceding

Trafalgar, concerning which Collingwood wrote that admirals need to be

made of iron, but which was forced upon them by the unquestionable and

imminent danger of the country. Farther distant still, severed

apparently from all connection with the busy scene at Boulogne, Nelson

before Toulon was wearing away the last two years of his glorious but

suffering life, fighting the fierce north-westers of the Gulf of Lyon

and questioning, questioning continually with feverish anxiety, whether

Napoleon’s object was Egypt again or Great Britain really. They were

dull, weary, eventless months, those months of watching and waiting of

the big ships before the French arsenals. Purposeless they surely seemed

to many, but they saved England. The world has never seen a more

impressive demonstration of the influence of sea power upon its history.

Those far distant, storm-beaten ships, upon which the Grand Army never

looked, stood between it and the dominion of the world. Holding the

interior positions they did, before—and therefore between—the chief

dockyards and detachments of the French navy, the latter could unite

only by a concurrence of successful evasions, of which the failure of

any one nullified the result. Linked together as the various British

fleets were by chains of smaller vessels, chance alone could secure

Bonaparte’s great combination, which depended upon the covert

concentration of several detachments upon a point practically within the

enemy’s lines. Thus, while bodily present before Brest, Rochefort, and

Toulon, strategically the British squadrons lay in the Straits of Dover

barring the way against the Army of Invasion.

The Straits themselves, of course, were not without their own special

protection. Both they and their approaches, in the broadest sense of the

term, from the Texel to the Channel Islands, were patrolled by numerous

frigates and smaller vessels, from one hundred to a hundred and fifty in

all. These not only watched diligently all that happened in the hostile

harbors and sought to impede the movements of the flat-boats, but also

kept touch with and maintained communication between the detachments of

ships-of-the-line. Of the latter, five off the Texel watched the Dutch

navy, while others were anchored off points of the English coast with

reference to probable movements of the enemy. Lord St. Vincent, whose

ideas on naval strategy were clear and sound, though he did not use the

technical terms of the art, discerned and provided against the very

purpose entertained by Bonaparte, of a concentration before Boulogne by

ships drawn from the Atlantic and Mediterranean. The best security, the

most advantageous strategic positions, were doubtless those before the

enemy’s ports; and never in the history of blockades has there been

excelled, if ever equalled, the close locking of Brest by Admiral

Cornwallis, both winter and summer, between the outbreak of war and the

battle of Trafalgar. It excited not only the admiration but the wonder

of contemporaries.[73] In case, however, the French at Brest got out, so

the prime minister of the day informed the speaker of the House,

Cornwallis’s rendezvous was off the Lizard (due north of Brest), so as

to go for _Ireland, or follow the French up Channel_, if they took

either direction. _Should the French run for the Downs_, the five sail

of the line at Spithead would also follow them; and Lord Keith (in the

Downs) would in addition to his six, and six block ships, have also the

North Sea fleet at his command.[74] Thus provision was made, in case of

danger, for the outlying detachments to fall back on the strategic

center, gradually accumulating strength, till they formed a body of from

twenty-five to thirty heavy and disciplined ships-of-the-line,

sufficient to meet all probable contingencies.

Hence, neither the Admiralty nor British naval officers in general

shared the fears of the country concerning the peril from the flotilla.

“Our first defense,” wrote Nelson in 1801, “is close to the enemy’s

ports; and the Admiralty have taken such precautions, by having such a

respectable force under my orders, that I venture to express a

well-grounded hope that the enemy would be annihilated before they get

ten miles from their own shores.”[75]

25. THE BATTLE OF TRAFALGAR[76]

[While Napoleon’s plans for control of the Channel underwent many

changes, the movements actually carried out were as follows: On March

27, Villeneuve with eighteen ships left Toulon and sailed for the West

Indies, arriving at Martinique May 12, where he was to be joined by the

Brest fleet. Baffled at first by head winds and uncertainty as to the

enemy’s destination, Nelson reached Barbados twenty-three days later.

Learning of his arrival, Villeneuve at once sailed for Europe, on June

9, again followed, four days later by Nelson. The brig _Curieux_,

despatched by Nelson to England on the 12th, sighted the enemy fleet and

reported its approach to the Admiralty, thus enabling Calder to meet

Villeneuve in an indecisive action on July 22 off Ferrol, Spain. Nelson

steered for Gibraltar, and thence, having learned that Villeneuve was to

the northward, for the Channel, where on August 15 he left his ships

with the Channel fleet under Cornwallis.

[Illustration: NORTH ATLANTIC OCEAN.]

The French now had twenty-one ships at Brest and twenty-nine under

Villeneuve at Ferrol, while Cornwallis stood between with thirty-four or

thirty-five. An effective French combination was still possible,

especially as Cornwallis made the cardinal error of dividing his fleet.

Accordingly, Villeneuve, under an imperative summons from Napoleon, left

Ferrol on August 13; but, with his ships demoralized by their long

cruise, with head winds, and disturbed by false reports from a Danish

merchantman regarding the British strength, the French admiral two days

later turned for Cadiz. Here he was watched by Collingwood; and on

September 28 Nelson, after three weeks in England, took command of the

blockading fleet. “Thus ended, and forever,” writes Mahan, “Napoleon’s

profoundly conceived and laboriously planned scheme for the invasion of

England. If it be sought to fix a definite moment which marked the final

failure of so vast a plan, that one may well be chosen when Villeneuve

made signal to bear up for Cadiz.”[77] On August 25 the Boulogne army

broke camp and marched against the Austrian forces advancing toward the

Rhine.—EDITOR.]

The importance attached by the emperor to his project was not

exaggerated. He might, or he might not, succeed; but, if he failed

against Great Britain, he failed everywhere. This he, with the intuition

of genius, felt; and to this the record of his after history now bears

witness. To the strife of arms with the great Sea Power succeeded the

strife of endurance. Amid all the pomp and circumstance of the war which

for ten years to come desolated the Continent, amid all the tramping to

and fro over Europe of the French armies and their auxiliary legions,

there went on unceasingly that noiseless pressure upon the vitals of

France, that compulsion, whose silence, when once noted, becomes to the

observer the most striking and awful mark of the working of Sea Power.

Under it the resources of the Continent wasted more and more with each

succeeding year; and Napoleon, amid all the splendor of his imperial

position, was ever needy. To this, and to the immense expenditures

required to enforce the Continental System, are to be attributed most of

those arbitrary acts which made him the hated of the peoples, for whose

enfranchisement he did so much. Lack of revenue and lack of credit, such

was the price paid by Napoleon for the Continental System, through which

alone, after Trafalgar, he hoped to crush the Power of the Sea. It may

be doubted whether, amid all his glory, he ever felt secure after the

failure of the invasion of England. To borrow his own vigorous words, in

the address to the nation issued before he joined the army, “To live

without commerce, without shipping, without colonies, subjected to the

unjust will of our enemies, is to live as Frenchmen should not.” Yet so

had France to live throughout his reign, by the will of the one enemy

never conquered.

On the 14th of September, before quitting Paris, Napoleon sent

Villeneuve orders to take the first favorable opportunity to leave

Cadiz, to enter the Mediterranean, join the ships at Cartagena, and with

this combined force move upon southern Italy. There, at any suitable

point, he was to land the troops embarked in the fleet to reinforce

General St. Cyr, who already had instructions to be ready to attack

Naples at a moment’s notice.[78] The next day these orders were

reiterated to Decrès, enforcing the importance to the general campaign

of so powerful a diversion as the presence of this great fleet in the

Mediterranean; but, as “Villeneuve’s excessive pusillanimity will

prevent him from undertaking this, you will send to replace him Admiral

Rosily, who will bear letters directing Villeneuve to return to France

and give an account of his conduct.”[79] The emperor had already

formulated his complaints against the admiral under seven distinct

heads.[80] On the 15th of September, the same day the orders to relieve

Villeneuve were issued, Nelson, having spent at home only twenty-five

days, left England for the last time. On the 28th, when he joined the

fleet off Cadiz, he found under his command twenty-nine

ships-of-the-line, which successive arrivals raised to thirty-three by

the day of the battle; but, water running short, it became necessary to

send the ships, by divisions of six, to fill up at Gibraltar. To this

cause was due that only twenty-seven British vessels were present in the

action,—an unfortunate circumstance; for, as Nelson said, what the

country wanted was not merely a splendid victory, but annihilation;

“numbers only can annihilate.”[81] The force under his command was thus

disposed: the main body about fifty miles west-south-west of Cadiz,

seven lookout frigates close in with the port, and between these

extremes, two small detachments of ships-of-the-line,—the one twenty

miles from the harbor, the other about thirty-five. “By this chain,” he

wrote, “I hope to have constant communication with the frigates.”

“_The Nelson Touch_”[82]

At 6 P.M. of Saturday, September 28, the _Victory_ reached the fleet,

then numbering twenty-nine of the line; the main body being fifteen to

twenty miles west of Cadiz, with six ships close in with the port. The

next day was Nelson’s birthday—forty-seven years old. The junior

admirals and the captains visited the commander-in-chief, as customary,

but with demonstrations of gladness and confidence that few leaders have

elicited in equal measure from their followers. “The reception I met

with on joining the fleet caused the sweetest sensation of my life. The

officers who came on board to welcome my return, forgot my rank as

commander-in-chief in the enthusiasm with which they greeted me. As soon

as these emotions were past, I laid before them the plan I had

previously arranged for attacking the enemy; and it was not only my

pleasure to find it generally approved, but clearly perceived and

understood.” To Lady Hamilton he gave an account of this scene which

differs little from the above, except in its greater vividness. “I

believe my arrival was most welcome, not only to the commander of the

fleet, but also to every individual in it; and, when I came to explain

to them the ‘_Nelson touch_,’ it was like an electric shock. Some shed

tears, all approved—‘It was new—it was singular—it was simple!’ and,

from admirals downwards, it was repeated—‘It must succeed, if ever they

will allow us to get at them! You are, my Lord, surrounded by friends

whom you inspire with confidence.’ Some may be Judas’s; but the majority

are certainly much pleased with my commanding them.” No more joyful

birthday levee was ever held than that of this little naval court.

Besides the adoration for Nelson personally, which they shared with

their countrymen in general, there mingled with the delight of the

captains the sentiment of professional appreciation and confidence, and

a certain relief, noticed by Codrington, from the dry, unsympathetic

rule of Collingwood, a man just, conscientious, highly trained, and

efficient, but self-centered, rigid, uncommunicative; one who fostered,

if he did not impose, restrictions upon the intercourse between the

ships, against which he had inveighed bitterly when himself one of St.

Vincent’s captains. Nelson, on the contrary, at once invited cordial

social relations with the commanding officers. Half of the thirty-odd

were summoned to dine on board the flagship the first day, and half the

second. Not till the third did he permit himself the luxury of a quiet

dinner chat with his old chum, the second in command, whose sterling

merits, under a crusty exterior, he knew and appreciated. Codrington

mentions also an incident, trivial in itself, but illustrative of that

outward graciousness of manner, which, in a man of Nelson’s temperament

and position, is rarely the result of careful cultivation, but bespeaks

rather the inner graciousness of the heart that he abundantly possessed.

They had never met before, and the admiral, greeting him with his usual

easy courtesy, handed him a letter from his wife, saying that being

entrusted with it by a lady, he made a point of delivering it himself,

instead of sending it by another.

The “Nelson Touch,” or Plan of Attack, expounded to his captains at the

first meeting, was afterwards formulated in an Order, copies of which

were issued to the fleet on the 9th of October. In this “Memorandum,”

which was doubtless sufficient for those who had listened to the vivid

oral explanation of its framer, the writer finds the simplicity, but not

the absolute clearness, that they recognized. It embodies, however, the

essential ideas, though not the precise method of execution, actually

followed at Trafalgar, under conditions considerably different from

those which Nelson probably anticipated; and it is not the least of its

merits as a military conception that it could thus, with few signals and

without confusion, adapt itself at a moment’s notice to diverse

circumstances. This great order not only reflects the ripened experience

of its author, but contains also the proof of constant mental activity

and development in his thought; for it differs materially in detail from

the one issued a few months before to the fleet, when in pursuit of

Villeneuve to the West Indies.

MEMORANDUM

(Secret)

Victory, off CADIZ, 9th October, 1805.

Thinking it almost impossible to bring a Fleet of forty Sail of the Line

into a Line of Battle in variable winds, thick weather, and other

circumstances which must occur, without such a loss of time that the

opportunity would probably be lost of bringing the Enemy to Battle in

such a manner as to make the business decisive, I have therefore made up

my mind to keep the Fleet in that position of sailing (with the

exception of the First and Second in Command) that the Order of Sailing

is to be the Order of Battle, placing the Fleet in two Lines of sixteen

Ships each, with an Advanced Squadron of eight of the fastest sailing

Two-decked Ships, which will always make, if wanted, a Line of

twenty-four Sail, on whichever Line the Commander-in-Chief may direct.

The Second in Command will, after my intentions are made known to him,

have the entire direction of his Line to make the attack upon the Enemy,

and to follow up the blow until they are captured or destroyed.

If the Enemy’s Fleet should be seen to windward in Line of Battle, and

that the two Lines and the Advanced Squadron can fetch them, they will

probably be so extended that their Van could not succor their Rear.

I should therefore probably make the Second in Command’s signal to lead

through, about their twelfth Ship from their Rear, (or wherever he could

fetch, if not able to get so far advanced); my Line would lead through

about their Center, and the Advanced Squadron to cut two or three or

four Ships ahead of their Center, so as to ensure getting at their

Commander-in-Chief, on whom every effort must be made to capture.

The whole impression of the British Fleet must be to overpower from two

or three Ships ahead of their Commander-in-Chief, supposed to be in the

Center, to the Rear of their Fleet. I will suppose twenty Sail of the

Enemy’s Line to be untouched, it must be some time before they could

perform a maneuver to bring their force compact to attack any part of

the British Fleet engaged, or to succor their own Ships, which indeed

would be impossible without mixing with the Ships engaged.

Something must be left to chance; nothing is sure in a Sea Fight beyond

all others. Shot will carry away the masts and yards of friends as well

as foes; but I look with confidence to a Victory before the Van of the

Enemy could succor their Rear, and then that the British Fleet would

most of them be ready to receive their twenty Sail of the Line, or to

pursue them, should they endeavor to make off.

If the Van of the Enemy tacks, the Captured Ships must run to leeward of

the British Fleet; if the Enemy wears, the British must place themselves

between the Enemy and the Captured, and disabled British Ships; and

should the Enemy close, I have no fears as to the result.

The Second in Command will in all possible things direct the movements

of his Line, by keeping them as compact as the nature of the

circumstances will admit. Captains are to look to their particular Line

as their rallying point. But, in case Signals can neither be seen or

perfectly understood, no Captain can do very wrong if he places his Ship

alongside that of an Enemy.

Of the intended attack from to windward, the Enemy in Line of Battle

ready to receive an attack,

↙ Wind.[83]

B = British.[83]

—————

E = Enemy.[83]

——————————

———————B

——————————E——————————

The divisions of the British Fleet will be brought nearly within gun

shot of the Enemy’s Center. The signal will most probably then be made

for the Lee Line to bear up together, to set all their sails, even

steering sails, in order to get as quickly as possible to the Enemy’s

Line, and to cut through, beginning from the 12 Ship from the Enemy’s

Rear. Some Ships may not get through their exact place, but they will

always be at hand to assist their friends; and if any are thrown round

the Rear of the Enemy, they will effectually complete the business of

twelve Sail of the Enemy.

Should the Enemy wear together, or bear up and sail large, still the

twelve Ships composing, in the first position, the Enemy’s Rear, are to

be the object of attack of the Lee Line, unless otherwise directed from

the Commander-in-Chief, which is scarcely to be expected, as the entire

management of the Lee Line, after the intentions of the

Commander-in-Chief is signified, is intended to be left to the judgment

of the Admiral commanding that Line.

The remainder of the Enemy’s Fleet, 34 Sail, are to be left to the

management of the Commander-in-Chief who will endeavor to take care that

the movements of the Second in Command are as little interrupted as is

possible.

NELSON AND BRONTÉ.

After a statement of general considerations, and a frank attribution of

full powers to the second in command for carrying out his part, Nelson

lays down the manner of attack from to leeward. This condition not

obtaining at Trafalgar, the plan cannot be contrasted with the

performance of that day. Upon this follows a luminous enunciation of the

general idea, namely, Collingwood’s engaging the twelve rear ships,

which underlies the method prescribed for each attack—from to leeward

and to windward. Of the latter Nelson fortunately gives an outline

diagram, which illustrates the picture before his own mind, facilitating

our comprehension of his probable expectations, and allowing a

comparison between them and the event as it actually occurred. It is not

to the discredit, but greatly to the credit, of his conception, that it

was susceptible of large modification in practice while retaining its

characteristic idea.

Looking at his diagram, and following his words, it will be seen that

the British lines are not formed perpendicularly to that of the enemy

(as they were at Trafalgar), but parallel to it. Starting from this

disposition, near the enemy and abreast his center, the lee line of

sixteen ships was to bear up _together_, and advance in line, not in

column (as happened at Trafalgar); their object being the twelve rear

ships of the enemy. This first move stands by itself; the action of the

weather line, and of the reserve squadron still farther to windward, are

held in suspense under the eye of the commander-in-chief, to take the

direction which the latter shall prescribe as the struggle develops. The

mere menace of such a force, just out of gunshot to windward, would be

sufficient to prevent any extensive maneuver of the unengaged enemies.

Nelson doubtless had in mind the dispositions, more than a century old,

of Tourville and De Ruyter, by which a few ships, spaced to windward of

an enemy’s van, could check its tacking, because of the raking fire to

which they would subject it. Unquestionably, he would not have kept long

in idle expectancy twenty-four ships, the number he had in mind; but

clearly also he proposed to hold them until he saw how things went with

Collingwood. Thus much time would allow, granting the position he

assumed and a reasonable breeze. His twenty-four to windward held an

absolute check over the supposed thirty-four unengaged, of the enemy.

The attack as planned, therefore, differed from that executed (1) in

that the lee line was not to advance in column, but in line, thereby

dispersing the enemy’s fire, and avoiding the terrific concentration

which crushed the leaders at Trafalgar; and (2) in that the weather

squadrons were not to attack simultaneously with the lee, but after it

had engaged, in order to permit the remedying of any mishap that might

arise in delivering the crucial blow. In both these matters of detail

the plan was better than the modification; but the latter was forced

upon Nelson by conditions beyond his control.[84]

_The Battle_

Napoleon’s commands to enter the Mediterranean reached Villeneuve on

September 27. The following day, when Nelson was joining his fleet, the

admiral acknowledged their receipt, and submissively reported his

intention to obey as soon as the wind served. Before he could do so,

accurate intelligence was received of the strength of Nelson’s force,

which the emperor had not known. Villeneuve assembled a council of war

to consider the situation, and the general opinion was adverse to

sailing; but the commander-in-chief, alleging the orders of Napoleon,

announced his determination to follow them. To this all submitted. An

event, then unforeseen by Villeneuve, precipitated his action.

Admiral Rosily’s approach was known in Cadiz some time before he could

arrive. It at first made little impression upon Villeneuve, who was not

expecting to be superseded. On the 11th of October, however, along with

the news that his successor had reached Madrid, there came to him a

rumor of the truth. His honor took alarm. If not allowed to remain

afloat, how remove the undeserved imputation of cowardice which he knew

had by some been attached to his name. He at once wrote to Decrès that

he would have been well content if permitted to continue with the fleet

in a subordinate capacity; and closed with the words, “I will sail

to-morrow, if circumstances favor.”

The wind next day was fair, and the combined fleets began to weigh. On

the 19th eight ships got clear of the harbor, and by ten A.M. Nelson,

far at sea, knew by signal that the long-expected movement had begun. He

at once made sail toward the Straits of Gibraltar to bar the entrance of

the Mediterranean to the allies. On the 20th, all the latter,

thirty-three ships-of-the-line accompanied by five frigates and two

brigs, were at sea, steering with a south-west wind to the northward and

westward to gain the offing needed before heading direct for the

Straits. That morning Nelson, for whom the wind had been fair, was lying

to off Cape Spartel to intercept the enemy; and learning from his

frigates that they were north of him, he stood in that direction to meet

them.

During the day the wind shifted to west, still fair for the British and

allowing the allies, by going about, to head south. It was still very

weak, so that the progress of the fleets was slow. During the night both

maneuvered; the allies to gain, the British to retain, the position they

wished. At daybreak of the 21st they were in presence, the French and

Spaniards steering south in five columns; of which the two to windward,

containing together twelve ships, constituted a detached squadron of

observation under Admiral Gravina. The remaining twenty-one formed the

main body, commanded by Villeneuve. Cape Trafalgar, from which the

battle took its name, was on the south-eastern horizon, ten or twelve

miles from the allies; and the British fleet was at the same distance

from them to the westward.

Soon after daylight Villeneuve signalled to form line of battle on the

starboard tack, on which they were then sailing, heading south. In

performing this evolution Gravina with his twelve ships took post in the

van of the allied fleet, his own flagship heading the column. It is

disputed between the French and Spaniards whether this step was taken by

Villeneuve’s order, or of Gravina’s own motion. In either case, these

twelve, by abandoning their central and windward position, sacrificed to

a great extent their power to reinforce any threatened part of the

order, and also unduly extended a line already too long. In the end,

instead of being a reserve well in hand, they became the helpless

victims of the British concentration.

At eight A.M. Villeneuve saw that battle could not be shunned. Wishing

to have Cadiz under his lee in case of disaster, he ordered the combined

fleet to wear together. The signal was clumsily executed; but by ten all

had gone round and were heading north in inverse order, Gravina’s

squadron in the rear. At eleven Villeneuve directed this squadron to

keep well to windward, so as to be in position to succor the center,

upon which the enemy seemed about to make his chief attack; a judicious

order, but rendered fruitless by the purpose of the British to

concentrate on the rear itself. When this signal was made, Cadiz was

twenty miles distant in the north-north-east, and the course of the

allies was carrying them toward it.