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Title: Mahan on naval warfare : Selections from the writing of Rear Admiral Alfred T. Mahan
Author: Mahan, A. T. (Alfred Thayer)
Language: English
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MAHAN ON NAVAL WARFARE
_The Writings of_
REAR ADMIRAL ALFRED T. MAHAN
The Influence of Sea Power upon History, 1660–1783.
The Influence of Sea Power upon the French Revolution and Empire,
1793–1812. 2 vols.
Sea Power in Its Relations to the War of 1812. 2 vols.
The Interest of America in Sea Power, Present and Future.
The Life of Nelson, the Embodiment of the Sea Power of Great Britain.
2 vols.
Types of Naval Officers.
Retrospect and Prospect.
Lessons of the War with Spain, and other Articles.
The Problem of Asia, and Its Effect upon International Policies.
Some Neglected Aspects of War.
Naval Administration and Warfare.
The Interest of America in International Conditions.
Naval Strategy.
The Major Operations of the Navies in the War of American
Independence.
The Harvest Within.
[Illustration:
REAR ADMIRAL ALFRED T. MAHAN, U.S.N.
]
MAHAN ON NAVAL WARFARE
SELECTIONS FROM THE WRITINGS OF REAR ADMIRAL ALFRED T. MAHAN
EDITED BY
ALLAN WESTCOTT, PH.D.
INSTRUCTOR, UNITED STATES NAVAL ACADEMY
WITH MAPS AND DIAGRAMS
[Illustration: [Logo]]
BOSTON
LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY
1918
_Copyright, 1890, 1892, 1897, 1899, 1900, 1901, 1902, 1905, 1907, 1908,
1910, 1911_,
BY A. T. MAHAN.
_Copyright, 1918_,
BY ELLEN LYLE MAHAN.
_All rights reserved_
ALFRED THAYER MAHAN
In his volume of reminiscences, “From Sail to Steam,” Rear Admiral Mahan
gives us his father’s opinion and his own later judgment regarding his
choice of the navy as a life work. “My father told me he thought me less
fit for a military than for a civil profession, having watched me
carefully. I think myself now that he was right; for though I have no
cause to complain of unsuccess, I believe I should have done better
elsewhere.”[1]
The father, Dennis Hart Mahan, was a graduate of West Point, in later
life a distinguished professor of engineering at the Military Academy,
and thus well qualified to weigh his son’s character and the
requirements of a military career. The verdict of both father and son,
moreover, may appear borne out by the fact that, while the name of Mahan
is more widely known to-day than that of any other American naval
officer, his fame rests, not on his achievements as a ship or fleet
commander, but as a great naval historian and student of naval warfare.
Whatever the apparent wisdom of the choice at the time, it was in the
event fortunate both for himself and for the naval profession. His long
and varied service as an officer afloat and ashore gave him an
invaluable background for the study of naval history and international
affairs. On the other hand, his writings have brought home to every
maritime nation the importance of sea power, and have stimulated in his
own profession an interest in naval history and naval science which has
helped to keep it abreast the progress of the age. This direct bearing
of his professional experience upon his writings adds significance to
the details of his life in the navy.
Alfred Thayer Mahan entered the Naval Academy at Annapolis, Maryland,
September 30, 1856. Born at West Point, September 27, 1840, he was at
the time of his entrance but three days above sixteen. Like many another
candidate for the navy, he solicited his own appointment, obtaining it
finally through the influence of Jefferson Davis, who had studied under
his father at West Point, and was at this time Secretary of War. Having
attended Columbia College for two years preceding, the boy was
permitted—by a concession of which this is believed to be the only
instance in the annals of the Academy—to omit the first year’s work and
enter with the “Youngster” class, or “class of ’55 date,” according to
the nomenclature then used. Up to the year 1851 the midshipmen’s course
had consisted of five years at sea followed by one at the Academy. Mahan
entered in the autumn after the graduation of the last class under the
old scheme; and it was to the more mature, “sea-going” character of
former classes that he attributes the total absence of hazing in his
day. The practice was “not so much reprobated as ignored.” It came in
later, when the Academy was moved to Newport during the Civil War, and
“new ideals were evolved by a mass of schoolboys, severed from those
elder associates with the influence of whom no professors nor officers
can vie.”[2]
In the dusty files of Academy registers for that period one may read the
names of boys famous in later years. George Dewey was a class ahead of
Mahan; Schley and Sampson were respectively one class and two classes
behind. On graduation, Dewey stood fifth in a class of fifteen; Mahan
second in a class of twenty, with a record apparently very close to the
leader’s; and Sampson stood first. In his last year the future historian
was first in seamanship, physics, political science, and moral science,
third in naval tactics and gunnery, fourth in “steam engine,” and fifth
in astronomy and navigation. The year before he had excelled in physics,
rhetoric, and Spanish. The details are noteworthy chiefly as they show
the subjects of the old-time curriculum, in which so-called practical
branches were less predominant than they are to-day. Of Mahan’s class,
which numbered forty-nine at the time of entrance, twenty-nine had
dropped back or resigned before the end of the course.
After a cruise in South American waters in the old frigate _Congress_,
Mahan at once received his commission as lieutenant, August 31, 1861,
and soon afterward an appointment as second in command of the steam
corvette _Pocahontas_, then in the Potomac flotilla. It illustrates the
rapid promotion of those war-time days that each member of his class
received similar advancement in the first year of the war. In the
_Pocahontas_ he came under fire in the attack on Port Royal, and
afterward spent many weary months in blockade duty, first in the
_Pocahontas_ off the south Atlantic coast, and later in the _Seminole_
off Sabine Pass, Texas. This latter station, Mahan remarks, “was a
jumping-off place, the end of nowhere.” “Day after day we lay
inactive—roll, roll.” The monotony was broken by a pleasant eight months
at the Naval Academy in Newport and a “practice cruise” to England in
the _Macedonian_; and in the last year of the war he saw more varied
service on the staff of Rear Admiral Dahlgren, again on the Atlantic
coast blockade.
Commissioned lieutenant commander in 1865, Mahan passed the ensuing
twenty years in the customary routine of alternate sea and shore duty.
In 1867–1869, a long cruise in the steam frigate _Iroquois_ to Japan,
via Guadeloupe, Rio, Cape Town, Madagascar, Aden, and Bombay, gave
opportunity, unusual even in the navy, to see the world, and brought him
to Kobe in time to witness the opening of new treaty ports and the last
days of medieval Japan.
In 1885, when he had reached the rank of captain and was forty-five
years of age, he had yet had little opportunity to display the
distinctive talents which were to win him permanent fame. Partly,
perhaps, in consequence of a book by his pen entitled “The Gulf and
Inland Waters” and published two years before, but more likely as a
result of the shrewd estimate which naval officers form regarding their
fellows in the service, he was requested at this time to give a series
of lectures on naval history and tactics at the Naval War College, then
just established at Newport, Rhode Island. His acceptance of this duty
marks a turning point in his career.
The call reached him in the _Wachusett_ off the west coast of South
America. It was nearly two years later, in August, 1886, when he took up
his residence at the college, succeeding Rear Admiral Luce as president.
A change of political administration in the meantime had brought about a
less favorable policy toward this new departure in naval education, with
the result that, to quote Mahan again, the college “was reefed close
down, looking out for squalls at any moment from any quarter,” for the
next four or five years. It bears evidence to his tact and tenacity, and
it was not the least of his accomplishments for the navy, that he
piloted the institution safely through this crucial period, with scant
appropriations or none at all, in the face of a hostile Secretary of the
Navy and a lukewarm service.
After seven years devoted chiefly to the War College, Mahan went to sea
for the last time as commander of the cruiser _Chicago_ in the European
squadron. At this time “The Influence of Sea Power upon History” had
already been published, and the volume on the French Revolution and
Empire was nearly ready for the press. Upon requesting postponement of
sea duty until its completion, he was informed by his superior in the
Bureau of Navigation that it was “not the business of a naval officer to
write books.” The remark was narrow, for the naval or any other
profession would soon stagnate without the stimulus of free discussion
and study, which finds its best outlet through the press; and it showed
slight recognition of the immense value to the navy and the nation of
Mahan’s writings. Still it was well for the author that he made this
last cruise—his only experience with a ship of the new fleet. If the
importance of his first book was not realized at home—and it is stated
that he had great difficulty in finding a publisher—it was fully
recognized abroad. His arrival in England was taken as an opportunity to
pay a national tribute of appreciation, of which the degrees conferred
by both Oxford and Cambridge were but one expression. There is a
slightly humorous aspect to the competition of American universities to
award similar honors upon his return.
Retiring in 1896 after forty years of service, he was recalled to act as
a member of the Naval War Board from May 9, 1898, until the close of the
War with Spain. His fellow members were Rear Admiral Montgomery Sicard
and Captain A. S. Crowninshield. This board practically controlled the
naval strategy of the war. Of its deliberations and the relative
influence of its members we have no record; but the naval dispositions
were effective, and, aside from the location of the “Flying Squadron” at
Hampton Roads as a concession to the fears of coast cities, they are
fully approved by Mahan in his writings.
His choice a year later as one of the American delegates to the first
Peace Conference at The Hague was eminently fitting in view of his
thorough knowledge of international relations and the rules governing
naval warfare. In determining the attitude of the American delegation,
he took a strong stand against any agreement that would contract our
freedom of action with regard to the Monroe Doctrine, and against
immunity of private property at sea. The arguments against this latter
policy he afterward stated effectively in print[3] and in a memorandum
to the Navy Department. With the fulfillment of this duty, his public
services, aside from his work as a writer, came to a close.
In the navy, as in other walks of life, an incompatibility is often
assumed—and often unjustly—between mastery of theory and skill in
practice, between the thoughtful student and the capable man of action;
and there is no denying that among his contemporaries this assumption
was current with regard to Mahan. While a conclusion is difficult in
such a matter, the case may well rest on the following statement by a
friend and fellow officer: “Duty, in whatever form it came, was sacred.
Invariably he gave to its performance the best that was in him. That he
distinguished himself pre-eminently on shipboard cannot be claimed. Luck
or circumstances denied him the opportunity of doing things heroic, and
his modesty those purely spectacular. As a subordinate or as captain of
a single ship, what he did was well done. No further proof of his
qualities in this respect is needed than the fact that, at the outbreak
of the Civil War, when finishing his midshipman’s cruise, he was asked
by a shipmate, an officer who expected a command, to go with him as
‘first lieutenant.’ To his colleagues of the old navy this invitation
was the highest form of professional approval. The fates decreed that
the wider field should not be his wherein, as commander-in-chief of a
fleet in war time, he could have exhibited the mastery he surely
possessed of that art with which his name will forever be indissolubly
linked.”[4]
From the same source may be taken a passage of more intimate portrayal.
“In person Mahan was tall, spare, erect, with blue eyes, fair
complexion, hair and beard originally sandy. He respected the body as
the temple of his soul, and he paid it the homage of abstemious living,
of outdoor games and abundant exercise. In manner he was modest to
excess, dignified, courteous. Reticent in speech with people in general,
those who enjoyed the rare privilege of his intimacy knew him to be
possessed of a keen sense of humor and a fund of delightful anecdotes.
To such friends he was a most charming companion, so different from the
grave, self-contained philosopher he appeared to the rest and less
favored of his acquaintance. His home life was ideal.”
The lectures delivered at the Naval War College were the basis of “The
Influence of Sea Power upon History.” The author tells us how the
central idea came to him in the library of the English Club at Lima,
Peru, while reading Momsen’s “History of Rome.” “It suddenly struck
me ... how different things might have been could Hannibal have invaded
Italy by sea, as the Romans often had Africa, instead of by the long
land route.” A year later, when he returned to the United States, the
plan of the lectures was already formed: “I would investigate
coincidently the general history and the naval history of the past two
centuries with a view to demonstrating the influence of the events of
the one upon the other.” Written between May and September of 1886, and
delivered as lectures during the next four years, the book was carefully
revised before its publication in the spring of 1890.
This book exerted at the time, and has continued to exert, a widespread
influence; and while its author’s reputation has been increased by his
later writings, it remains his best known and greatest work. One reason
for this is that it states his fundamental teaching, and in a form easy
to grasp. The preface and the first chapter, which cover but eighty-nine
pages, survey rapidly the rise and decline of great sea powers and the
national characteristics affecting maritime development. The rest of the
book, treating in detail the period between 1660 and 1783, reinforces
the conclusions already stated.
Timeliness also contributed to its success. The book furnished
authoritative guidance in a period of transition and new departures in
international affairs. For nearly twenty years, under Bismarck, Germany
had been consolidating the empire established in 1871. When William II
ascended the throne in 1888, the ambitions of both ruler and nation were
already turned toward colonial expansion and world power. A German
Admiralty separate from the War Office was established in 1889;
Heligoland was secured a year later; the Kiel Canal was nearing
completion. In England, the Naval Defense Act of 1889 provided an
increase of seventy ships during the next four years. The rivals against
whom she measured her naval strength were still France and Russia. In
the United States, Congress in 1890 authorized three battleships, the
first vessels of this class to be added to the American navy. During the
following ten years the rivalry of nations was chiefly in commercial and
colonial aggrandisement, marked by the final downfall of Spain’s
colonial empire and a greatly increased importance attached to control
of the sea.
For the nations taking part in this expansion, Mahan was a kind of
gospel, furnishing texts for every discussion of naval policy. “After
his first book,” says a French writer, “and especially from 1895 on,
Mahan supplied the sound basis for all thought on naval and maritime
affairs; it was seen clearly that sea power was the principle which,
adhered to or departed from, would determine whether empires should
stand or fall.”[5]
To Great Britain in particular the book came as a timely analysis of the
means by which she had grown in wealth and dominion. This was indeed no
discovery. Nearly three centuries earlier Francis Bacon had written, “To
be master of the sea is an abridgment [epitome] of monarchy ... he that
commands the sea is at great liberty, and may take as much and as little
of the war as he will.”[6] Before and after Bacon, England had acted
upon this principle. But it remained for Mahan to give the thesis full
expression, to demonstrate it by concrete illustration, and to apply it
to modern conditions. “For the first time,” writes the British naval
historian, Sir Julian Corbett, “naval history was placed on a
philosophical basis. From the mass of facts which had hitherto done duty
for naval history, broad generalizations were possible. The ears of
statesmen and publicists were opened, and a new note began to sound in
world politics. Regarded as a political pamphlet in the higher sense—for
that is how the famous book is best characterized—it has few equals in
the sudden and far-reaching effect it produced on political thought and
action.”[7]
Germany was not slow to take to heart this interpretation of the vital
dependence of world empire on sea power. The Kaiser read the book,
annotated its pages, and placed copies in every ship of the German
fleet.[8] It was soon translated not only into German but into French,
Japanese, Russian, Italian, and Spanish. This and later works by the
same author were perhaps most diligently studied by officers of the
Japanese navy, then rising rapidly to the strength manifested in the
Russian war. “As far as known to myself,” writes Mahan, “more of my
works have been done into Japanese than into any other one tongue.”[9]
The debt of all students of naval warfare is well expressed by a noted
Italian officer and writer,—“Mahan, who is the great teacher of us
all.”[10]
What has been said of “The Influence of Sea Power upon History” applies
in varying degrees to the sixteen historical works and collections of
essays which appeared in the ensuing twenty-five years. While extending
the field covered by the earlier book, they maintained in general its
high qualities. The most important of these, “The Influence of Sea Power
upon the French Revolution and Empire,” covers the period from 1793 to
1812. This and the studies of the American Revolution and the War of
1812 form with his first book a continuous historical series from 1660
to 1815. The “Life of Nelson” and “Life of Farragut” are standard
professional biographies of these two commanders, who, if we accept
Mahan’s opinion, rank respectively first and second among naval leaders.
The best of his thought on contemporary naval warfare is gathered up in
his “Naval Strategy,” published in 1911. Based on lectures first
delivered in 1887, and afterward frequently expanded and modified to
meet changing conditions, this book, while invaluable to the
professional student, lacks something of the continuity and clearness of
structure of the historical works.
The authoritativeness of these writings, it may be repeated, was
strengthened by the author’s technical equipment and long years of
practical experience. Moreover, as Mr. Roosevelt has said, “Mahan was
the only great naval writer who also possessed the mind of a statesman
of the first class.”[11] His concern always was not merely with the
facts of history but with the “logic of events” and their lessons for
to-day.
Following his retirement, Admiral Mahan wrote more frequently and freely
on problems of the present and future. Of the subjects treated, some
were distinctly professional—the speed and size of battleships, the
size, composition, and disposition of fleets, modifications in the
international codes affecting naval warfare, naval events in
contemporary wars. Others entered the wider field of world politics,
voicing the author’s sincere belief in American colonial expansion and
active participation in world affairs, in the need of a navy sufficient
to make our influence felt, in the limitations as well as the usefulness
of arbitration, in the continuance of force as an important factor in
international relations.
In such discussions, he wrote without the slightest trace of jingoism or
sensation mongering; and it would be a fanatic advocate of immediate
disarmament and universal arbitration who would deny the steadying and
beneficent effect of his opposition, with its grip on realities and
steadfast respect for truth. Whatever he wrote was not only backed by
firm conviction but inspired by the highest ideals.
His style naturally varied somewhat with the audience and the theme. His
historical writings have been justly described as burdened with
qualifications, and marked by a laborious fullness of statement, which
strains the attention, while it adds weight and dignity to the
presentation. This in general is true of the histories; but there are
many passages in these where the subject inspires him to genuine
eloquence. In the “Life of Nelson” and “Types of Naval Officers” there
is little of the defect mentioned, and there are few more entertaining
volumes of naval reminiscence than “From Sail to Steam.” “The besetting
anxiety of my soul,” writes the author himself, “was to be exact and
lucid. I might not succeed, but my wish was indisputable. To be accurate
in facts and correct in conclusions, both as to application and
expression, dominated all other motives.”[12] One might dispense with
reams of “fine writing” for a page of prose guided by these standards.
On December 1, 1914, Rear Admiral Mahan died suddenly of heart failure.
A month before, he had left his home at Quogue, Long Island, and come to
Washington to pursue investigations for a history of American expansion
and its bearing on sea power. His death, occurring four months after the
outbreak of hostilities in Europe, was perhaps hastened by constant
study of the diplomatic and military events of the war, the approach of
which he had clearly foreseen, as well as America’s vital interest in
the Allied cause. It was unfortunate that his political and professional
wisdom should have been lost at that time.
His work, however, was largely accomplished. By his influence on both
public and professional opinion, by prevision and warm advocacy, he had
done much to further the execution of many important naval and national
policies. Among such may be mentioned the peace-time concentration of
fleets in preparation for war, the abandonment of a strictly defensive
naval policy, the systematic study of professional problems, the
strengthening of our position in the Caribbean, the fortification of
Panama. “His interest,” writes Mr. Roosevelt, “was in the larger side of
his subjects; he was more concerned with the strategy than with the
tactics of both naval war and statesmanship.” In this larger field his
writings will retain a value little affected by the lapse of time.
ALLAN WESTCOTT.
UNITED STATES NAVAL ACADEMY,
June, 1918.
CONTENTS
PAGE
INTRODUCTION v
PART I
NAVAL PRINCIPLES
1. THE VALUE OF HISTORICAL STUDY 3
2. “THEORETICAL” _versus_ “PRACTICAL” TRAINING 8
A Historical Instance 8
What is Practical? 10
3. ELEMENTS OF SEA POWER 16
4. DEFINITION OF TERMS: STRATEGY, TACTICS, LOGISTICS 49
5. FUNDAMENTAL PRINCIPLES 50
Central Position, Interior Lines, Communications 50
Concentration 60
6. STRATEGIC POSITIONS 68
I. Situation 69
II. Military Strength 70
III. Resources 74
7. STRATEGIC LINES 75
Communications 75
Importance of Sea Communications 76
8. OFFENSIVE OPERATIONS 79
9. THE VALUE OF THE DEFENSIVE 87
10. COMMERCE-DESTROYING AND BLOCKADE 91
Command of the Sea Decisive 98
11. STRATEGIC FEATURES OF THE GULF OF MEXICO AND THE CARIBBEAN 100
12. PRINCIPLES OF NAVAL ADMINISTRATION 113
Opposing Elements 113
The British System 118
The United States System 122
13. THE MILITARY RULE OF OBEDIENCE 125
14. PREPAREDNESS FOR NAVAL WAR 128
PART II
SEA POWER IN HISTORY
15. A NATION EXHAUSTED BY ISOLATION 137
France under Louis XIV 137
16. THE GROWTH OF BRITISH SEA POWER 141
England after the Peace of Utrecht, 1715 141
17. RESULTS OF THE SEVEN YEARS’ WAR 147
18. EIGHTEENTH CENTURY FORMALISM IN NAVAL TACTICS 155
19. THE NEW TACTICS 159
Rodney and De Guichen, April 17, 1780 159
20. SEA POWER IN THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION 164
Graves and De Grasse off the Chesapeake 164
21. THE FRENCH NAVY DEMORALIZED BY THE REVOLUTION 171
22. HOWE’S VICTORY OF JUNE 1, 1794 175
23. NELSON’S STRATEGY AT COPENHAGEN 184
24. ENGLAND’S FIRST LINE OF DEFENSE 191
25. THE BATTLE OF TRAFALGAR 196
“The Nelson Touch” 200
The Battle 208
Commerce Warfare after Trafalgar 223
26. GENERAL STRATEGY OF THE WAR OF 1812 229
Results of the Northern Campaign 235
27. LESSONS OF THE WAR WITH SPAIN 241
The Possibilities of a “Fleet in Being” 241
28. THE SANTIAGO BLOCKADE 250
29. “FLEET IN BEING” AND “FORTRESS FLEET” 256
The Port Arthur Squadron in the Russo-Japanese War 256
Divided Forces 269
30. ROZHESTVENSKY AT TSUSHIMA 276
PART III
NAVAL AND NATIONAL POLICIES
31. EXPANSION AND OVER-SEA BASES 285
The Annexation of Hawaii 285
32. APPLICATION OF THE MONROE DOCTRINE 288
Anglo-American Community of Interests 288
33. CHANGES IN THE UNITED STATES AND JAPAN 296
34. OUR INTERESTS IN THE PACIFIC 299
35. THE GERMAN STATE AND ITS MENACE 302
The Bulwark of British Sea Power 306
36. ADVANTAGES OF INSULAR POSITION 309
Great Britain and the Continental Powers 309
37. BEARING OF POLITICAL DEVELOPMENTS ON NAVAL POLICY AND
STRATEGY 317
38. SEIZURE OF PRIVATE PROPERTY AT SEA 328
39. THE MORAL ASPECT OF WAR 342
40. THE PRACTICAL ASPECT OF WAR 348
41. MOTIVES FOR NAVAL POWER 355
APPENDIX
CHRONOLOGICAL OUTLINE 359
ACADEMIC HONORS 360
PUBLISHED WORKS 361
UNCOLLECTED ESSAYS 362
REFERENCES 362
INDEX 365
LIST OF MAPS AND PLANS
PAGE
DIAGRAM ILLUSTRATING THE VALUE OF THE CENTRAL POSITION 54
GULF OF MEXICO AND CARIBBEAN SEA 101
RODNEY AND GUICHEN, APRIL 17, 1780 161
GRAVES AND DE GRASSE, SEPTEMBER 5, 1781 167
THE BALTIC AND ITS APPROACHES _Facing page_ 185
NORTH ATLANTIC OCEAN _Facing page_ 197
THE ATTACK AT TRAFALGAR 214
SCENE OF NAVAL WAR, JAPAN AND RUSSIA 278
PART I
NAVAL PRINCIPLES
MAHAN
ON NAVAL WARFARE
I. THE VALUE OF HISTORICAL STUDY[13]
The history of Sea Power is largely, though by no means solely, a
narrative of contests between nations, of mutual rivalries, of violence
frequently culminating in war. The profound influence of sea commerce
upon the wealth and strength of countries was clearly seen long before
the true principles which governed its growth and prosperity were
detected. To secure to one’s own people a disproportionate share of such
benefits, every effort was made to exclude others, either by the
peaceful legislative methods of monopoly or prohibitory regulations, or,
when these failed, by direct violence. The clash of interests, the angry
feelings roused by conflicting attempts thus to appropriate the larger
share, if not the whole, of the advantages of commerce, and of distant
unsettled commercial regions, led to wars. On the other hand, wars
arising from other causes have been greatly modified in their conduct
and issue by the control of the sea. Therefore the history of sea power,
while embracing in its broad sweep all that tends to make a people great
upon the sea or by the sea, is largely a military history; and it is in
this aspect that it will be mainly, though not exclusively, regarded in
the following pages.
A study of the military history of the past, such as this, is enjoined
by great military leaders as essential to correct ideas and to the
skillful conduct of war in the future. Napoleon names among the
campaigns to be studied by the aspiring soldier, those of Alexander,
Hannibal, and Cæsar, to whom gunpowder was unknown; and there is a
substantial agreement among professional writers that, while many of the
conditions of war vary from age to age with the progress of weapons,
there are certain teachings in the school of history which remain
constant, and being, therefore, of universal application, can be
elevated to the rank of general principles. For the same reason the
study of the sea history of the past will be found instructive, by its
illustration of the general principles of maritime war, notwithstanding
the great changes that have been brought about in naval weapons by the
scientific advances of the past half-century, and by the introduction of
steam as the motive power. [The pages omitted point out lessons to be
drawn from galley and sailing-ship warfare.—EDITOR.]
Before hostile armies or fleets are brought into con_tact_ (a word which
perhaps better than any other indicates the dividing line between
tactics and strategy), there are a number of questions to be decided,
covering the whole plan of operations throughout the theater of war.
Among these are the proper function of the navy in the war; its true
objective; the point or points upon which it should be concentrated; the
establishment of depots of coal and supplies; the maintenance of
communications between these depots and the home base; the military
value of commerce-destroying as a decisive or a secondary operation of
war; the system upon which commerce-destroying can be most efficiently
conducted, whether by scattered cruisers or by holding in force some
vital center through which commercial shipping must pass. All these are
strategic questions, and upon all these history has a great deal to say.
There has been of late a valuable discussion in English naval circles as
to the comparative merits of the policies of two great English admirals,
Lord Howe and Lord St. Vincent, in the disposition of the English navy
when at war with France. The question is purely strategic, and is not of
mere historical interest; it is of vital importance now, and the
principles upon which its decision rests are the same now as then. St.
Vincent’s policy saved England from invasion, and in the hands of Nelson
and his brother admirals led straight up to Trafalgar.
It is then particularly in the field of naval strategy that the
teachings of the past have a value which is in no degree lessened. They
are there useful not only as illustrative of principles, but also as
precedents, owing to the comparative permanence of the conditions. This
is less obviously true as to tactics, when the fleets come into
collision at the point to which strategic considerations have brought
them. The unresting progress of mankind causes continual change in the
weapons; and with that must come a continual change in the manner of
fighting,—in the handling and disposition of troops or ships on the
battlefield. Hence arises a tendency on the part of many connected with
maritime matters to think that no advantage is to be gained from the
study of former experiences; that time so used is wasted. This view,
though natural, not only leaves wholly out of sight those broad
strategic considerations which lead nations to put fleets afloat, which
direct the sphere of their action, and so have modified and will
continue to modify the history of the world, but is one-sided and narrow
even as to tactics. The battles of the past succeeded or failed
according as they were fought in conformity with the principles of war;
and the seaman who carefully studies the causes of success or failure
will not only detect and gradually assimilate these principles, but will
also acquire increased aptitude in applying them to the tactical use of
the ships and weapons of his own day. He will observe also that changes
of tactics have not only taken place _after_ changes in weapons, which
necessarily is the case, but that the interval between such changes has
been unduly long. This doubtless arises from the fact that an
improvement of weapons is due to the energy of one or two men, while
changes in tactics have to overcome the inertia of a conservative class;
but it is a great evil. It can be remedied only by a candid recognition
of each change, by careful study of the powers and limitations of the
new ship or weapon, and by a consequent adaptation of the method of
using it to the qualities it possesses, which will constitute its
tactics. History shows that it is vain to hope that military men
generally will be at the pains to do this, but that the one who does
will go into battle with a great advantage,—a lesson in itself of no
mean value.
2. “THEORETICAL” _versus_ “PRACTICAL” TRAINING[14].
_A Historical Instance_
There have long been two conflicting opinions as to the best way to fit
naval officers, and indeed all men called to active pursuits, for the
discharge of their duties. The one, of the so-called practical man,
would find in early beginning and constant remaining afloat _all_ that
is requisite; the other will find the best result in study, in elaborate
mental preparation. I have no hesitation in avowing that personally I
think that the United States Navy is erring on the latter side; but, be
that as it may, there seems little doubt that the mental activity which
exists so widely is not directed toward the management of ships in
battle, to the planning of naval campaigns, to the study of strategic
and tactical problems, nor even to the secondary matters connected with
the maintenance of warlike operations at sea.[15] Now we have had the
results of the two opinions as to the training of naval officers pretty
well tested by the experience of two great maritime nations, France and
England, each of which, not so much by formulated purpose as by national
bias, committed itself unduly to the one or the other. The results were
manifested in our War of Independence, which gave rise to the only
well-contested, widespread maritime war between nearly equal forces that
modern history records. There remains in my own mind no doubt, after
reading the naval history on both sides, that the English brought to
this struggle much superior seamanship, learned by the constant practice
of shipboard; while the French officers, most of whom had been debarred
from similar experience by the decadence of their navy in the middle of
the century, had devoted themselves to the careful study of their
profession. In short, what are commonly called the practical and the
theoretical man were pitted against each other, and the result showed
how mischievous is any plan which neglects either theory or practice, or
which ignores the fact that correct theoretical ideas are essential to
successful practical work. The practical seamanship and experience of
the English were continually foiled by the want of correct tactical
conceptions on the part of their own chiefs, and the superior science of
the French, acquired mainly by study. It is true that the latter were
guided by a false policy on the part of their government and a false
professional tradition. The navy, by its mobility, is pre-eminently
fitted for offensive war, and the French deliberately and constantly
subordinated it to defensive action. But, though the system was faulty,
they had a system; they had ideas; they had plans familiar to their
officers, while the English usually had none—and a poor system is better
than none at all....
_What is Practical?_
It was said to me by some one: “If you want to attract officers to the
College, give them something that will help them pass their next
examination.” But the test of war, when it comes, will be found a more
searching trial of what is in a man than the verdict of several amiable
gentlemen, disposed to give the benefit of every doubt. Then you will
encounter men straining every faculty and every means to injure you.
Shall we then, who prepare so anxiously for an examination, view as a
“practical” proceeding, worthy of “practical” men, the postponing to the
very moment of imperative action the consideration of _how_ to act,
_how_ to do our fighting, either in the broader domain of strategy, or
in the more limited field of tactics, whether of the single ship or of
the fleet? Navies exist for war; and the question presses for an answer:
“Is this neglect to master the experience of the past, to elicit,
formulate, and absorb its principles, is it _practical_?” Is it
“practical” to wait till the squall strikes you before shortening sail?
If the object and aim of the College is to promote such study, to
facilitate such results, to foster and disseminate such ideas, can it be
reproached that its purpose is not “practical,” even though at first its
methods be tentative and its results imperfect?
The word “practical” has suffered and been debased by a misapprehension
of that other word “theoretical,” to which it is accurately and
logically opposed. Theory is properly defined as a scheme of things
which _terminates in speculation, or contemplation_, without a view to
practice. The idea was amusingly expressed in the toast, said to have
been drunk at a meeting of mathematicians, “Eternal perdition to the man
who would degrade pure mathematics by applying it to any useful
purpose.” The word “theoretical,” therefore, is applied rightly and
legitimately only to mental processes that end in themselves, that have
no result in action; but by a natural, yet most unfortunate, confusion
of thought, it has come to be applied to all mental processes
whatsoever, whether fruitful or not, and has transferred its stigma to
them, while “practical” has walked off with all the honors of a
utilitarian age.
If therefore the line of thought, study and reflection, which the War
College seeks to promote, is really liable to the reproach that it leads
to no useful end, can result in no effective action, it falls justly
under the condemnation of being not “practical.” But it must be said
frankly and fearlessly that the man who is prepared to apply this stigma
to the line of the College effort must also be prepared to class as not
“practical” men like Napoleon, like his distinguished opponent, the
Austrian Archduke Charles, and like Jomini, the profuse writer on
military art and military history, whose works, if somewhat supplanted
by newer digests, have lost little or none of their prestige as a
profound study and exposition of the principles of warfare.
Jomini was not merely a military theorist, who saw war from the outside;
he was a distinguished and thoughtful soldier, in the prime of life
during the Napoleonic wars, and of a contemporary reputation such that,
when he deserted the cause of the emperor, he was taken at once into a
high position as a confidential adviser of the allied sovereigns. Yet
what does he say of strategy? Strategy is to him the queen of military
sciences; it underlies the fortunes of every campaign. As in a building,
which, however fair and beautiful the superstructure, is radically
marred and imperfect if the foundation be insecure—so, if the strategy
be wrong, the skill of the general on the battlefield, the valor of the
soldier, the brilliancy of victory, however otherwise decisive, fail of
their effect. Yet how does he define strategy, the effects of which, if
thus far-reaching, must surely be esteemed “practical”? “Strategy,” he
said, “is the art of making war upon the map. It precedes the operations
of the campaign, the clash of arms on the field. It is done in the
cabinet, it is the work of the student, with his dividers in his hand
and his information lying beside him.” In other words, it originates in
a mental process, but it does not end there; therefore it is practical.
Most of us have heard an anecdote of the great Napoleon, which is
nevertheless so apt to my purpose that I must risk the repetition.
Having had no time to verify my reference, I must quote from memory, but
of substantial accuracy I am sure. A few weeks before one of his early
and most decisive campaigns, his secretary, Bourrienne, entered the
office and found the First Consul, as he then was, stretched on the
floor with a large map before him. Pricked over the map, in what to
Bourrienne was confusion, were a number of red and black pins. After a
short silence the secretary, who was an old friend of school days, asked
him what it all meant. The Consul laughed goodnaturedly, called him a
fool, and said: “This set of pins represents the Austrians and this the
French. On such a day I shall leave Paris. My troops will then be in
such positions. On a certain day,” naming it, “I shall be here,”
pointing, “and my troops will have moved there. At such a time I shall
cross the mountains, a few days later my army will be here, the
Austrians will have done thus and so; and at a certain date I will beat
them here,” placing a pin. Bourrienne said nothing, perhaps he may have
thought the matter not “practical;” but a few weeks later, after the
battle (Marengo, I think) had been fought, he was seated with the
general in his military traveling carriage. The programme had been
carried out, and he recalled the incident to Bonaparte’s mind. The
latter himself smiled at the singular accuracy of his predictions in the
particular instance.
In the light of such an incident, the question I would like to pose will
receive of course but one answer. Was the work on which the general was
engaged in his private office, this work of a student, was it
“practical”? Or can it by any reasonable method be so divorced from what
followed, that the word “practical” only applies farther on. Did he only
begin to be practical when he got into his carriage to drive from the
Tuileries, or did the practical begin when he joined the army, or when
the first gun of the campaign was fired? Or, on the other hand, if he
had passed that time, given to studying the campaign, in arranging for a
new development of the material of war, and so had gone with his plans
undeveloped, would he not have done a thing very far from “practical”?
But we must push our inquiry a little farther back to get the full
significance of Bourrienne’s story. Whence came the facility and
precision with which Bonaparte planned the great campaign of Marengo?
Partly, unquestionably, from a native genius rarely paralleled; partly,
but not by any means wholly. Hear his own prescription: “If any man will
be a great general, let him study.” Study what? “Study history. Study
the campaigns of the great generals—Alexander, Hannibal, Cæsar” (who
never smelt gunpowder, nor dreamed of ironclads) “as well as those of
Turenne, Frederick, and myself, Napoleon.” Had Bonaparte entered his
cabinet to plan the campaign of Marengo, with no other preparation than
his genius, without the mental equipment and the ripened experience that
came from knowledge of the past, acquired by study, he would have come
unprepared. Were, then, his previous study and reflection, for which the
time of action had not come, were they not “practical,” because they did
not result in immediate action? Would they even have been “not
practical” if the time for action had never come to him?
As the wise man said, “There is a time for everything under the sun,”
and the time for one thing cannot be used as the time for another. That
there is time for action, all concede; few consider duly that there is
also a time for preparation. To use the time of preparation for
preparation is practical, whatever the method; to postpone preparation
to the time for action is not practical. Our new navy is preparing now;
it can scarcely be said, as regards its material, to be yet ready. The
day of grace is still with us—or with those who shall be the future
captains and admirals. There is time yet for study; there is time to
imbibe the experience of the past, to become imbued, steeped, in the
eternal principles of war, by the study of its history and of the maxims
of its masters. But the time of preparation will pass; some day the time
of action will come. Can an admiral then sit down and re-enforce his
intellectual grasp of the problem before him by a study of history,
which is simply a study of past experience? Not so; the time of action
is upon him, and he must trust to his horse sense.
3. ELEMENTS OF SEA POWER[16]
The first and most obvious light in which the sea presents itself from
the political and social point of view is that of a great highway; or
better, perhaps, of a wide common, over which men may pass in all
directions, but on which some well-worn paths show that controlling
reasons have led them to choose certain lines of travel rather than
others. These lines of travel are called trade routes; and the reasons
which have determined them are to be sought in the history of the world.
Notwithstanding all the familiar and unfamiliar dangers of the sea, both
travel and traffic by water have always been easier and cheaper than by
land. The commercial greatness of Holland was due not only to her
shipping at sea, but also to the numerous tranquil water-ways which gave
such cheap and easy access to her own interior and to that of Germany.
This advantage of carriage by water over that by land was yet more
marked in a period when roads were few and very bad, wars frequent and
society unsettled, as was the case two hundred years ago. Sea traffic
then went in peril of robbers, but was nevertheless safer and quicker
than that by land. A Dutch writer of that time, estimating the chances
of his country in a war with England, notices among other things that
the water-ways of England failed to penetrate the country sufficiently;
therefore, the roads being bad, goods from one part of the kingdom to
the other must go by sea, and be exposed to capture by the way. As
regards purely internal trade, this danger has generally disappeared at
the present day. In most civilized countries, now, the destruction or
disappearance of the coasting-trade would only be an inconvenience,
although water transit is still the cheaper. Nevertheless, as late as
the wars of the French Republic and the First Empire, those who are
familiar with the history of the period, and the light naval literature
that has grown up around it, know how constant is the mention of convoys
stealing from point to point along the French coast, although the sea
swarmed with English cruisers and there were good inland roads.
Under modern conditions, however, home trade is but a part of the
business of a country bordering on the sea. Foreign necessaries or
luxuries must be brought to its ports, either in its own or in foreign
ships, which will return, bearing in exchange the products of the
country, whether they be the fruits of the earth or the works of men’s
hands; and it is the wish of every nation that this shipping business
should be done by its own vessels. The ships that thus sail to and fro
must have secure ports to which to return, and must, as far as possible,
be followed by the protection of their country throughout the voyage.
This protection in time of war must be extended by armed shipping. The
necessity of a navy, in the restricted sense of the word, springs,
therefore, from the existence of a peaceful shipping, and disappears
with it,[17] except in the case of a nation which has aggressive
tendencies, and keeps up a navy merely as a branch of the military
establishment. As the United States has at present no aggressive
purposes, and as its merchant service has disappeared, the dwindling of
the armed fleet and general lack of interest in it are strictly logical
consequences. When for any reason sea trade is again found to pay, a
large enough shipping interest will reappear to compel the revival of
the war fleet. It is possible that when a canal route through the
Central-American Isthmus is seen to be a near certainty, the aggressive
impulse may be strong enough to lead to the same result. This is
doubtful, however, because a peaceful, gain-loving nation is not
far-sighted, and far-sightedness is needed for adequate military
preparation, especially in these days.
As a nation, with its unarmed and armed shipping, launches forth from
its own shores, the need is soon felt of points upon which the ships can
rely for peaceful trading, for refuge and supplies. In the present day
friendly, though foreign, ports are to be found all over the world; and
their shelter is enough while peace prevails. It was not always so, nor
does peace always endure, though the United States have been favored by
so long a continuance of it. In earlier times the merchant seaman,
seeking for trade in new and unexplored regions, made his gains at risk
of life and liberty from suspicious or hostile nations, and was under
great delays in collecting a full and profitable freight. He therefore
intuitively sought at the far end of his trade route one or more
stations, to be given to him by force or favor, where he could fix
himself or his agents in reasonable security, where his ships could lie
in safety, and where the merchantable products of the land could be
continually collecting, awaiting the arrival of the home fleet, which
should carry them to the mother-country. As there was immense gain, as
well as much risk, in these early voyages, such establishments naturally
multiplied and grew until they became colonies; whose ultimate
development and success depended upon the genius and policy of the
nation from which they sprang, and form a very great part of the
history, and particularly of the sea history, of the world. All colonies
had not the simple and natural birth and growth above described. Many
were more formal, and purely political, in their conception and
founding, the act of the rulers of the people rather than of private
individuals; but the trading-station with its after expansion, the work
simply of the adventurer seeking gain, was in its reasons and essence
the same as the elaborately organized and chartered colony. In both
cases the mother-country had won a foothold in a foreign land, seeking a
new outlet for what it had to sell, a new sphere for its shipping, more
employment for its people, more comfort and wealth for itself.
The needs of commerce, however, were not all provided for when safety
had been secured at the far end of the road. The voyages were long and
dangerous, the seas often beset with enemies. In the most active days of
colonizing there prevailed on the sea a lawlessness the very memory of
which is now almost lost, and the days of settled peace between maritime
nations were few and far between. Thus arose the demand for stations
along the road, like the Cape of Good Hope, St. Helena, and Mauritius,
not primarily for trade, but for defense and war; the demand for the
possession of posts like Gibraltar, Malta, Louisburg, at the entrance of
the Gulf of St. Lawrence,—posts whose value was chiefly strategic,
though not necessarily wholly so. Colonies and colonial posts were
sometimes commercial, sometimes military in their character; and it was
exceptional that the same position was equally important in both points
of view, as New York was.
In these three things—production, with the necessity of exchanging
products, shipping, whereby the exchange is carried on, and colonies,
which facilitate and enlarge the operations of shipping and tend to
protect it by multiplying points of safety—is to be found the key to
much of the history, as well as of the policy, of nations bordering upon
the sea. The policy has varied both with the spirit of the age and with
the character and clear-sightedness of the rulers; but the history of
the seaboard nations has been less determined by the shrewdness and
foresight of governments than by conditions of position, extent,
configuration, number and character of their people,—by what are called,
in a word, natural conditions. It must however be admitted, and will be
seen, that the wise or unwise action of individual men has at certain
periods had a great modifying influence upon the growth of sea power in
the broad sense, which includes not only the military strength afloat,
that rules the sea or any part of it by force of arms, but also the
peaceful commerce and shipping from which alone a military fleet
naturally and healthfully springs, and on which it securely rests.
The principal conditions affecting the sea power of nations may be
enumerated as follows: I. Geographical Position. II. Physical
Conformation, including, as connected therewith, natural productions and
climate. III. Extent of Territory. IV. Number of Population. V.
Character of the People. VI. Character of the Government, including
therein the national institutions.
I. _Geographical Position._—It may be pointed out, in the first place,
that if a nation be so situated that it is neither forced to defend
itself by land nor induced to seek extension of its territory by way of
the land, it has, by the very unity of its aim directed upon the sea, an
advantage as compared with a people one of whose boundaries is
continental. This has been a great advantage to England over both France
and Holland as a sea power. The strength of the latter was early
exhausted by the necessity of keeping up a large army and carrying on
expensive wars to preserve her independence; while the policy of France
was constantly diverted, sometimes wisely and sometimes most foolishly,
from the sea to projects of continental extension. These military
efforts expended wealth; whereas a wiser and consistent use of her
geographical position would have added to it.
The geographical position may be such as of itself to promote a
concentration, or to necessitate a dispersion, of the naval forces. Here
again the British Islands have an advantage over France. The position of
the latter, touching the Mediterranean as well as the ocean, while it
has its advantages, is on the whole a source of military weakness at
sea. The eastern and western French fleets have only been able to unite
after passing through the Straits of Gibraltar, in attempting which they
have often risked and sometimes suffered loss. The position of the
United States upon the two oceans would be either a source of great
weakness or a cause of enormous expense, had it a large sea commerce on
both coasts.[18]
England, by her immense colonial empire, has sacrificed much of this
advantage of concentration of force around her own shores; but the
sacrifice was wisely made, for the gain was greater than the loss, as
the event proved. With the growth of her colonial system her war fleets
also grew, but her merchant shipping and wealth grew yet faster. Still,
in the wars of the American Revolution, and of the French Republic and
Empire, to use the strong expression of a French author, “England,
despite the immense development of her navy, seemed ever, in the midst
of riches, to feel all the embarrassment of poverty.” The might of
England was sufficient to keep alive the heart and the members; whereas
the equally extensive colonial empire of Spain, through her maritime
weakness, but offered so many points for insult and injury.
The geographical position of a country may not only favor the
concentration of its forces, but give the further strategic advantage of
a central position and a good base for hostile operations against its
probable enemies. This again is the case with England; on the one hand
she faces Holland and the northern powers, on the other France and the
Atlantic. When threatened with a coalition between France and the naval
powers of the North Sea and the Baltic, as she at times was, her fleets
in the Downs and in the Channel, and even that off Brest, occupied
interior positions, and thus were readily able to interpose their united
force against either one of the enemies which should seek to pass
through the Channel to effect a junction with its ally. On either side,
also, Nature gave her better ports and a safer coast to approach.
Formerly this was a very serious element in the passage through the
Channel; but of late, steam and the improvement of her harbors have
lessened the disadvantage under which France once labored. In the days
of sailing-ships, the English fleet operated against Brest, making its
base at Torbay and Plymouth. The plan was simply this: in easterly or
moderate weather the blockading fleet kept its position without
difficulty; but in westerly gales, when too severe, they bore up for
English ports, knowing that the French fleet could not get out till the
wind shifted, which equally served to bring them back to their station.
The advantage of geographical nearness to an enemy, or to the object of
attack, is nowhere more apparent than in that form of warfare which has
lately received the name of commerce-destroying, which the French call
_guerre de course_. This operation of war, being directed against
peaceful merchant vessels which are usually defenseless, calls for ships
of small military force. Such ships, having little power to defend
themselves, need a refuge or point of support near at hand; which will
be found either in certain parts of the sea controlled by the fighting
ships of their country, or in friendly harbors. The latter give the
strongest support, because they are always in the same place, and the
approaches to them are more familiar to the commerce-destroyer than to
his enemy. The nearness of France to England has thus greatly
facilitated her _guerre de course_ directed against the latter. Having
ports on the North Sea, on the Channel, and on the Atlantic, her
cruisers started from points near the focus of English trade, both
coming and going. The distance of these ports from each other,
disadvantageous for regular military combinations, is an advantage for
this irregular secondary operation; for the essence of the one is
concentration of effort, whereas for commerce-destroying diffusion of
effort is the rule. Commerce destroyers scatter, that they may see and
seize more prey. These truths receive illustration from the history of
the great French privateers, whose bases and scenes of action were
largely on the Channel and North Sea, or else were found in distant
colonial regions, where islands like Guadeloupe and Martinique afforded
similar near refuge. The necessity of renewing coal makes the cruiser of
the present day even more dependent than of old on his port. Public
opinion in the United States has great faith in war directed against an
enemy’s commerce; but it must be remembered that the Republic has no
ports very near the great centers of trade abroad. Her geographical
position is therefore singularly disadvantageous for carrying on
successful commerce-destroying, unless she find bases in the ports of an
ally.
If, in addition to facility for offense, Nature has so placed a country
that it has easy access to the high sea itself, while at the same time
it controls one of the great thoroughfares of the world’s traffic, it is
evident that the strategic value of its position is very high. Such
again is, and to a greater degree was, the position of England. The
trade of Holland, Sweden, Russia, Denmark, and that which went up the
great rivers to the interior of Germany, had to pass through the Channel
close by her doors; for sailing-ships hugged the English coast. This
northern trade had, moreover, a peculiar bearing upon sea power; for
naval stores, as they are commonly called, were mainly drawn from the
Baltic countries.
But for the loss of Gibraltar, the position of Spain would have been
closely analogous to that of England. Looking at once upon the Atlantic
and the Mediterranean, with Cadiz on the one side and Cartagena on the
other, the trade to the Levant must have passed under her hands, and
that round the Cape of Good Hope not far from her doors. But Gibraltar
not only deprived her of the control of the Straits, it also imposed an
obstacle to the easy junction of the two divisions of her fleet.
At the present day, looking only at the geographical position of Italy,
and not at the other conditions affecting her sea power, it would seem
that with her extensive sea-coast and good ports she is very well placed
for exerting a decisive influence on the trade route to the Levant and
by the Isthmus of Suez. This is true in a degree, and would be much more
so did Italy now hold all the islands naturally Italian; but with Malta
in the hands of England, and Corsica in those of France, the advantages
of her geographical position are largely neutralized. From race
affinities and situation those two islands are as legitimately objects
of desire to Italy as Gibraltar is to Spain. If the Adriatic were a
great highway of commerce, Italy’s position would be still more
influential. These defects in her geographical completeness, combined
with other causes injurious to a full and secure development of sea
power, make it more than doubtful whether Italy can for some time be in
the front rank among the sea nations.
As the aim here is not an exhaustive discussion, but merely an attempt
to show, by illustration, how vitally the situation of a country may
affect its career upon the sea, this division of the subject may be
dismissed for the present; the more so as instances which will further
bring out its importance will continually recur in the historical
treatment. Two remarks, however, are here appropriate.
Circumstances have caused the Mediterranean Sea to play a greater part
in the history of the world, both in a commercial and a military point
of view, than any other sheet of water of the same size. Nation after
nation has striven to control it, and the strife still goes on.
Therefore a study of the conditions upon which preponderance in its
waters has rested, and now rests, and of the relative military values of
different points upon its coasts, will be more instructive than the same
amount of effort expended in another field. Furthermore, it has at the
present time a very marked analogy in many respects to the Caribbean
Sea,—an analogy which will be still closer if a Panama canal route ever
be completed. A study of the strategic conditions of the Mediterranean,
which have received ample illustration, will be an excellent prelude to
a similar study of the Caribbean, which has comparatively little
history.
The second remark bears upon the geographical position of the United
States relatively to a Central-American canal. If one be made, and
fulfil the hopes of its builders, the Caribbean will be changed from a
terminus, and place of local traffic, or at best a broken and imperfect
line of travel, as it now is, into one of the great highways of the
world. Along this path a great commerce will travel, bringing the
interests of the other great nations, the European nations, close along
our shores, as they have never been before. With this it will not be so
easy as heretofore to stand aloof from international complications. The
position of the United States with reference to this route will resemble
that of England to the Channel, and of the Mediterranean countries to
the Suez route. As regards influence and control over it, depending upon
geographical position, it is of course plain that the center of the
national power, the permanent base,[19] is much nearer than that of
other great nations. The positions now or hereafter occupied by them on
island or mainland, however strong, will be but outposts of their power;
while in all the raw materials of military strength no nation is
superior to the United States. She is, however, weak in a confessed
unpreparedness for war; and her geographical nearness to the point of
contention loses some of its value by the character of the Gulf coast,
which is deficient in ports combining security from an enemy with
facility for repairing warships of the first class, without which ships
no country can pretend to control any part of the sea. In case of a
contest for supremacy in the Caribbean, it seems evident from the depth
of the South Pass of the Mississippi, the nearness of New Orleans, and
the advantages of the Mississippi Valley for water transit, that the
main effort of the country must pour down that valley, and its permanent
base of operations be found there. The defense of the entrance to the
Mississippi, however, presents peculiar difficulties; while the only two
rival ports, Key West and Pensacola, have too little depth of water, and
are much less advantageously placed with reference to the resources of
the country. To get the full benefit of superior geographical position,
these defects must be overcome. Furthermore, as her distance from the
Isthmus, though relatively less, is still considerable, the United
States will have to obtain in the Caribbean stations fit for contingent,
or secondary, bases of operations; which by their natural advantages,
susceptibility of defense, and nearness to the central strategic issue,
will enable her fleets to remain as near the scene as any opponent. With
ingress and egress from the Mississippi sufficiently protected, with
such outposts in her hands, and with the communications between them and
the home base secured, in short, with proper military preparation, for
which she has all necessary means, the preponderance of the United
States on this field follows, from her geographical position and her
power, with mathematical certainty.
II. _Physical Conformation._—The peculiar features of the Gulf coast,
alluded to, come properly under the head of Physical Conformation of a
country, which is placed second for discussion among the conditions
which affect the development of sea power.
The seaboard of a country is one of its frontiers; and the easier the
access offered by the frontier to the region beyond, in this case the
sea, the greater will be the tendency of a people toward intercourse
with the rest of the world by it. If a country be imagined having a long
seaboard, but entirely without a harbor, such a country can have no sea
trade of its own, no shipping, no navy. This was practically the case
with Belgium when it was a Spanish and an Austrian province. The Dutch,
in 1648, as a condition of peace after a successful war, exacted that
the Scheldt should be closed to sea commerce. This closed the harbor of
Antwerp and transferred the sea trade of Belgium to Holland. The Spanish
Netherlands ceased to be a sea power.
Numerous and deep harbors are a source of strength and wealth, and
doubly so if they are the outlets of navigable streams, which facilitate
the concentration in them of a country’s internal trade; but by their
very accessibility they become a source of weakness in war, if not
properly defended. The Dutch in 1667 found little difficulty in
ascending the Thames and burning a large fraction of the English navy
within sight of London; whereas a few years later the combined fleets of
England and France, when attempting a landing in Holland, were foiled by
the difficulties of the coast as much as by the valor of the Dutch
fleet. In 1778 the harbor of New York, and with it undisputed control of
the Hudson River, would have been lost to the English, who were caught
at disadvantage, but for the hesitancy of the French admiral. With that
control, New England would have been restored to close and safe
communication with New York, New Jersey, and Pennsylvania; and this
blow, following so closely on Burgoyne’s disaster of the year before,
would probably have led the English to make an earlier peace. The
Mississippi is a mighty source of wealth and strength to the United
States; but the feeble defenses of its mouth and the number of its
subsidiary streams penetrating the country made it a weakness and source
of disaster to the Southern Confederacy. And lastly, in 1814, the
occupation of the Chesapeake and the destruction of Washington gave a
sharp lesson of the dangers incurred through the noblest water-ways, if
their approaches be undefended; a lesson recent enough to be easily
recalled, but which, from the present appearance of the coast defenses,
seems to be yet more easily forgotten. Nor should it be thought that
conditions have changed; circumstances and details of offense and
defense have been modified, in these days as before, but the great
conditions remain the same.
Before and during the great Napoleonic wars, France had no port for
ships-of-the-line east of Brest. How great the advantage to England,
which in the same stretch has two great arsenals, at Plymouth and at
Portsmouth, besides other harbors of refuge and supply. This defect of
conformation has since been remedied by the works at Cherbourg.
Besides the contour of the coast, involving easy access to the sea,
there are other physical conditions which lead people to the sea or turn
them from it. Although France was deficient in military ports on the
Channel, she had both there and on the ocean, as well as in the
Mediterranean, excellent harbors, favorably situated for trade abroad,
and at the outlet of large rivers, which would foster internal traffic.
But when Richelieu had put an end to civil war, Frenchmen did not take
to the sea with the eagerness and success of the English and Dutch. A
principal reason for this has been plausibly found in the physical
conditions which have made France a pleasant land, with a delightful
climate, producing within itself more than its people needed. England,
on the other hand, received from Nature but little, and, until her
manufactures were developed, had little to export. Their many wants,
combined with their restless activity and other conditions that favored
maritime enterprise, led her people abroad; and they there found lands
more pleasant and richer than their own. Their needs and genius made
them merchants and colonists, then manufacturers and producers; and
between products and colonies shipping is the inevitable link. So their
sea power grew. But if England was drawn to the sea, Holland was driven
to it; without the sea England languished, but Holland died. In the
height of her greatness, when she was one of the chief factors in
European politics, a competent native authority estimated that the soil
of Holland could not support more than one eighth of her inhabitants.
The manufactures of the country were then numerous and important, but
they had been much later in their growth than the shipping interest. The
poverty of the soil and the exposed nature of the coast drove the Dutch
first to fishing. Then the discovery of the process of curing the fish
gave them material for export as well as home consumption, and so laid
the corner-stone of their wealth. Thus they had become traders at the
time that the Italian republics, under the pressure of Turkish power and
the discovery of the passage round the Cape of Good Hope, were beginning
to decline, and they fell heirs to the great Italian trade of the
Levant. Further favored by their geographical position, intermediate
between the Baltic, France, and the Mediterranean, and at the mouth of
the German rivers, they quickly absorbed nearly all the carrying-trade
of Europe. The wheat and naval stores of the Baltic, the trade of Spain
with her colonies in the New World, the wines of France, and the French
coasting-trade were, little more than two hundred years ago, transported
in Dutch shipping. Much of the carrying-trade of England, even, was then
done in Dutch bottoms. It will not be pretended that all this prosperity
proceeded only from the poverty of Holland’s natural resources.
Something does not grow from nothing. What is true, is, that by the
necessitous condition of her people they were driven to the sea, and
were, from their mastery of the shipping business and the size of their
fleets, in a position to profit by the sudden expansion of commerce and
the spirit of exploration which followed on the discovery of America and
of the passage round the Cape. Other causes concurred, but their whole
prosperity stood on the sea power to which their poverty gave birth.
Their food, their clothing, the raw material for their manufactures, the
very timber and hemp with which they built and rigged their ships (and
they built nearly as many as all Europe besides), were imported; and
when a disastrous war with England in 1653 and 1654 had lasted eighteen
months, and their shipping business was stopped, it is said “the sources
of revenue which had always maintained the riches of the State, such as
fisheries and commerce, were almost dry. Workshops were closed, work was
suspended. The Zuyder Zee became a forest of masts; the country was full
of beggars; grass grew in the streets, and in Amsterdam fifteen hundred
houses were untenanted.” A humiliating peace alone saved them from ruin.
This sorrowful result shows the weakness of a country depending wholly
upon sources external to itself for the part it is playing in the world.
With large deductions, owing to differences of conditions which need not
here be spoken of, the case of Holland then has strong points of
resemblance to that of Great Britain now; and they are true prophets,
though they seem to be having small honor in their own country, who warn
her that the continuance of her prosperity at home depends primarily
upon maintaining her power abroad. Men may be discontented at the lack
of political privilege; they will be yet more uneasy if they come to
lack bread. It is of more interest to Americans to note that the result
to France, regarded as a power of the sea, caused by the extent,
delightfulness, and richness of the land, has been reproduced in the
United States. In the beginning, their forefathers held a narrow strip
of land upon the sea, fertile in parts though little developed,
abounding in harbors and near rich fishing grounds. These physical
conditions combined with an inborn love of the sea, the pulse of that
English blood which still beat in their veins, to keep alive all those
tendencies and pursuits upon which a healthy sea power depends. Almost
every one of the original colonies was on the sea or on one of its great
tributaries. All export and import tended toward one coast. Interest in
the sea and an intelligent appreciation of the part it played in the
public welfare were easily and widely spread; and a motive more
influential than care for the public interest was also active, for the
abundance of ship-building materials and a relative fewness of other
investments made shipping a profitable private interest. How changed the
present condition is, all know. The center of power is no longer on the
seaboard. Books and newspapers vie with one another in describing the
wonderful growth, and the still undeveloped riches, of the interior.
Capital there finds its best investments, labor its largest
opportunities. The frontiers are neglected and politically weak; the
Gulf and Pacific coasts actually so, the Atlantic coast relatively to
the central Mississippi Valley. When the day comes that shipping again
pays, when the three sea frontiers find that they are not only
militarily weak, but poorer for lack of national shipping, their united
efforts may avail to lay again the foundations of our sea power. Till
then, those who follow the limitations which lack of sea power placed
upon the career of France may mourn that their own country is being led,
by a like redundancy of home wealth, into the same neglect of that great
instrument.
Among modifying physical conditions may be noted a form like that of
Italy,—a long peninsula, with a central range of mountains dividing it
into two narrow strips, along which the roads connecting the different
ports necessarily run. Only an absolute control of the sea can wholly
secure such communications, since it is impossible to know at what point
an enemy coming from beyond the visible horizon may strike; but still,
with an adequate naval force centrally posted, there will be good hope
of attacking his fleet, which is at once his base and line of
communications, before serious damage has been done. The long, narrow
peninsula of Florida, with Key West at its extremity, though flat and
thinly populated, presents at first sight conditions like those of
Italy. The resemblance may be only superficial, but it seems probable
that if the chief scene of a naval war were the Gulf of Mexico, the
communications by land to the end of the peninsula might be a matter of
consequence, and open to attack.
When the sea not only borders, or surrounds, but also separates a
country into two or more parts, the control of it becomes not only
desirable, but vitally necessary. Such a physical condition either gives
birth and strength to sea power, or makes the country powerless. Such is
the condition of the present kingdom of Italy, with its islands of
Sardinia and Sicily; and hence in its youth and still existing financial
weakness it is seen to put forth such vigorous and intelligent efforts
to create a military navy. It has even been argued that, with a navy
decidedly superior to her enemy’s, Italy could better base her power
upon her islands than upon her mainland; for the insecurity of the lines
of communication in the peninsula, already pointed out, would most
seriously embarrass an invading army surrounded by a hostile people and
threatened from the sea.
The Irish Sea, separating the British Islands, rather resembles an
estuary than an actual division; but history has shown the danger from
it to the United Kingdom. In the days of Louis XIV, when the French navy
nearly equalled the combined English and Dutch, the gravest
complications existed in Ireland, which passed almost wholly under the
control of the natives and the French. Nevertheless, the Irish Sea was
rather a danger to the English—a weak point in their communications—than
an advantage to the French. The latter did not venture their
ships-of-the-line in its narrow waters, and expeditions intending to
land were directed upon the ocean ports in the south and west. At the
supreme moment the great French fleet was sent upon the south coast of
England, where it decisively defeated the allies, and at the same time
twenty-five frigates were sent to St. George’s Channel, against the
English communications. In the midst of a hostile people, the English
army in Ireland was seriously imperiled, but was saved by the battle of
the Boyne and flight of James II. This movement against the enemy’s
communications was strictly strategic, and would be as dangerous to
England now as in 1690.
Spain, in the same century, afforded an impressive lesson of the
weakness caused by such separation when the parts are not knit together
by a strong sea power. She then still retained, as remnants of her past
greatness, the Netherlands (now Belgium), Sicily, and other Italian
possessions, not to speak of her vast colonies in the New World. Yet so
low had the Spanish sea power fallen, that a well-informed and
sober-minded Hollander of the day could claim that “in Spain all the
coast is navigated by a few Dutch ships; and since the peace of 1648
their ships and seamen are so few that they have publicly begun to hire
our ships to sail to the Indies, whereas they were formerly careful to
exclude all foreigners from there.... It is manifest,” he goes on, “that
the West Indies, being as the stomach to Spain (for from it nearly all
the revenue is drawn), must be joined to the Spanish head by a sea
force; and that Naples and the Netherlands, being like two arms, they
cannot lay out their strength for Spain, nor receive anything thence but
by shipping,—all which may easily be done by our shipping in peace, and
by it obstructed in war.” Half a century before, Sully, the great
minister of Henry IV, had characterized Spain “as one of those States
whose legs and arms are strong and powerful, but the heart infinitely
weak and feeble.” Since his day the Spanish navy had suffered not only
disaster, but annihilation; not only humiliation, but degradation. The
consequences briefly were that shipping was destroyed; manufactures
perished with it. The government depended for its support, not upon a
widespread healthy commerce and industry that could survive many a
staggering blow, but upon a narrow stream of silver trickling through a
few treasure-ships from America, easily and frequently intercepted by an
enemy’s cruisers. The loss of half a dozen galleons more than once
paralyzed its movements for a year. While the war in the Netherlands
lasted, the Dutch control of the sea forced Spain to send her troops by
a long and costly journey overland instead of by sea; and the same cause
reduced her to such straits for necessaries that, by a mutual
arrangement which seems very odd to modern ideas, her wants were
supplied by Dutch ships, which thus maintained the enemies of their
country, but received in return specie which was welcome in the
Amsterdam exchange. In America, the Spanish protected themselves as best
they might behind masonry, unaided from home; while in the Mediterranean
they escaped insult and injury mainly through the indifference of the
Dutch, for the French and English had not yet begun to contend for
mastery there. In the course of history the Netherlands, Naples, Sicily,
Minorca, Havana, Manila, and Jamaica were wrenched away, at one time or
another, from this empire without a shipping. In short, while Spain’s
maritime impotence may have been primarily a symptom of her general
decay, it became a marked factor in precipitating her into the abyss
from which she has not yet wholly emerged.
Except Alaska, the United States has no outlying possession,—no foot of
ground inaccessible by land. Its contour is such as to present few
points specially weak from their saliency, and all important parts of
the frontiers can be readily attained,—cheaply by water, rapidly by
rail. The weakest frontier, the Pacific, is far removed from the most
dangerous of possible enemies. The internal resources are boundless as
compared with present needs; we can live off ourselves indefinitely in
“our little corner,” to use the expression of a French officer to the
author. Yet should that little corner be invaded by a new commercial
route through the Isthmus, the United States in her turn may have the
rude awakening of those who have abandoned their share in the common
birthright of all people, the sea.
III. _Extent of Territory._—The last of the conditions affecting the
development of a nation as a sea power, and touching the country itself
as distinguished from the people who dwell there, is Extent of
Territory. This may be dismissed with comparatively few words.
As regards the development of sea power, it is not the total number of
square miles which a country contains, but the length of its coast-line
and the character of its harbors that are to be considered. As to these
it is to be said that, the geographical and physical conditions being
the same, extent of sea-coast is a source of strength or weakness
according as the population is large or small. A country is in this like
a fortress; the garrison must be proportioned to the _enceinte_. A
recent familiar instance is found in the American War of Secession. Had
the South had a people as numerous as it was warlike, and a navy
commensurate to its other resources as a sea power, the great extent of
its sea-coast and its numerous inlets would have been elements of great
strength. The people of the United States and the Government of that day
justly prided themselves on the effectiveness of the blockade of the
whole Southern coast. It was a great feat, a very great feat; but it
would have been an impossible feat had the Southerners been more
numerous, and a nation of seamen. What was there shown was not, as has
been said, how such a blockade can be maintained, but that such a
blockade is possible in the face of a population not only unused to the
sea, but also scanty in numbers. Those who recall how the blockade was
maintained, and the class of ships that blockaded during great part of
the war, know that the plan, correct under the circumstances, could not
have been carried out in the face of a real navy. Scattered unsupported
along the coast, the United States ships kept their places, singly or in
small detachments, in face of an extensive network of inland water
communications which favored secret concentration of the enemy. Behind
the first line of water communications were long estuaries, and here and
there strong fortresses, upon either of which the enemy’s ships could
always fall back to elude pursuit or to receive protection. Had there
been a Southern navy to profit by such advantages, or by the scattered
condition of the United States ships, the latter could not have been
distributed as they were; and being forced to concentrate for mutual
support, many small but useful approaches would have been left open to
commerce. But as the Southern coast, from its extent and many inlets,
might have been a source of strength, so, from those very
characteristics, it became a fruitful source of injury. The great story
of the opening of the Mississippi is but the most striking illustration
of an action that was going on incessantly all over the South. At every
breach of the sea frontier, warships were entering. The streams that had
carried the wealth and supported the trade of the seceding States turned
against them, and admitted their enemies to their hearts. Dismay,
insecurity, paralysis, prevailed in regions that might, under happier
auspices, have kept a nation alive through the most exhausting war.
Never did sea power play a greater or a more decisive part than in the
contest which determined that the course of the world’s history would be
modified by the existence of one great nation, instead of several rival
States, in the North American continent. But while just pride is felt in
the well-earned glory of those days, and the greatness of the results
due to naval preponderance is admitted, Americans who understand the
facts should never fail to remind the overconfidence of their countrymen
that the South not only had no navy, not only was not a seafaring
people, but that also its population was not proportioned to the extent
of the sea-coast which it had to defend.
IV. _Number of Population._—After the consideration of the natural
conditions of a country should follow an examination of the
characteristics of its population as affecting the development of sea
power; and first among these will be taken, because of its relations to
the extent of the territory, which has just been discussed, the number
of the people who live in it. It has been said that in respect of
dimensions it is not merely the number of square miles, but the extent
and character of the sea-coast that is to be considered with reference
to sea power; and so, in point of population, it is not only the grand
total, but the number following the sea, or at least readily available
for employment on shipboard and for the creation of naval material, that
must be counted.
For example, formerly and up to the end of the great wars following the
French Revolution, the population of France was much greater than that
of England; but in respect of sea power in general, peaceful commerce as
well as military efficiency, France was much inferior to England. In the
matter of military efficiency this fact is the more remarkable because
at times, in point of military preparation at the outbreak of war,
France had the advantage; but she was not able to keep it. Thus in 1778,
when war broke out, France, through her maritime inscription, was able
to man at once fifty ships-of-the-line. England, on the contrary, by
reason of the dispersal over the globe of that very shipping on which
her naval strength so securely rested, had much trouble in manning forty
at home; but in 1782 she had one hundred and twenty in commission or
ready for commission, while France had never been able to exceed
seventy-one.
[The need is further shown, not only of a large seafaring population,
but of skilled mechanics and artisans to facilitate ship construction
and repair and supply capable recruits for the navy.—EDITOR.]
... That our own country is open to the same reproach is patent to all
the world. The United States has not that shield of defensive power
behind which time can be gained to develop its reserve of strength. As
for a seafaring population adequate to her possible needs, where is it?
Such a resource, proportionate to her coast-line and population, is to
be found only in a national merchant shipping and its related
industries, which at present scarcely exist. It will matter little
whether the crews of such ships are native or foreign born, provided
they are attached to the flag, and her power at sea is sufficient to
enable the most of them to get back in case of war. When foreigners by
thousands are admitted to the ballot, it is of little moment that they
are given fighting-room on board ship.
Though the treatment of the subject has been somewhat discursive, it may
be admitted that a great population following callings related to the
sea is, now as formerly, a great element of sea power; that the United
States is deficient in that element; and that its foundations can be
laid only in a large commerce under her own flag.
V. _National Character._—The effect of national character and aptitudes
upon the development of sea power will next be considered.
If sea power be really based upon a peaceful and extensive commerce,
aptitude for commercial pursuits must be a distinguishing feature of the
nations that have at one time or another been great upon the sea.
History almost without exception affirms that this is true. Save the
Romans, there is no marked instance to the contrary.
[Here follows a survey, covering several pages, of the commercial
history and colonial policies of Spain, Holland, and Great
Britain.—EDITOR.]
... The fact of England’s unique and wonderful success as a great
colonizing nation is too evident to be dwelt upon; and the reason for it
appears to lie chiefly in two traits of the national character. The
English colonist naturally and readily settles down in his new country,
identifies his interest with it, and though keeping an affectionate
remembrance of the home from which he came, has no restless eagerness to
return. In the second place, the Englishman at once and instinctively
seeks to develop the resources of the new country in the broadest sense.
In the former particular he differs from the French, who were ever
longingly looking back to the delights of their pleasant land; in the
latter, from the Spaniards, whose range of interest and ambition was too
narrow for the full evolution of the possibilities of a new country.
The character and the necessities of the Dutch led them naturally to
plant colonies; and by the year 1650 they had in the East Indies, in
Africa, and in America a large number, only to name which would be
tedious. They were then far ahead of England in this matter. But though
the origin of these colonies, purely commercial in its character, was
natural, there seems to have been lacking to them a principle of growth.
“In planting them they never sought an extension of empire, but merely
an acquisition of trade and commerce. They attempted conquest only when
forced by the pressure of circumstances. Generally they were content to
trade under the protection of the sovereign of the country.” This placid
satisfaction with gain alone, unaccompanied by political ambition,
tended, like the despotism of France and Spain, to keep the colonies
mere commercial dependencies upon the mother-country, and so killed the
natural principle of growth.
Before quitting this head of the inquiry, it is well to ask how far the
national character of Americans is fitted to develop a great sea power,
should other circumstances become favorable.
It seems scarcely necessary, however, to do more than appeal to a not
very distant past to prove that, if legislative hindrances be removed,
and more remunerative fields of enterprise filled up, the sea power will
not long delay its appearance. The instinct for commerce, bold
enterprise in pursuit of gain, and a keen scent for trails that lead to
it, all exist; and if there be in the future any fields calling for
colonization, it cannot be doubted that Americans will carry to them all
their inherited aptitude for self-government and independent growth.
VI. _Character of the Government._—In discussing the effects upon the
development of a nation’s sea power exerted by its government and
institutions, it will be necessary to avoid a tendency to
over-philosophizing, to confine attention to obvious and immediate
causes and their plain results, without prying too far beneath the
surface for remote and ultimate influences.
Nevertheless, it must be noted that particular forms of government with
their accompanying institutions, and the character of rulers at one time
or another, have exercised a very marked influence upon the development
of sea power. The various traits of a country and its people which have
so far been considered constitute the natural characteristics with which
a nation, like a man, begins its career; the conduct of the government
in turn corresponds to the exercise of the intelligent will-power,
which, according as it is wise, energetic and persevering, or the
reverse, causes success or failure in a man’s life or a nation’s
history.
It would seem probable that a government in full accord with the natural
bias of its people would most successfully advance its growth in every
respect; and, in the matter of sea power, the most brilliant successes
have followed where there has been intelligent direction by a government
fully imbued with the spirit of the people and conscious of its true
general bent. Such a government is most certainly secured when the will
of the people, or of their best natural exponents, has some large share
in making it; but such free governments have sometimes fallen short,
while on the other hand despotic power, wielded with judgment and
consistency, has created at times a great sea commerce and a brilliant
navy with greater directness than can be reached by the slower processes
of a free people. The difficulty in the latter case is to insure
perseverance after the death of a particular despot.
England having undoubtedly reached the greatest height of sea power of
any modern nation, the action of her government first claims attention.
In general direction this action has been consistent, though often far
from praiseworthy. It has aimed steadily at the control of the sea.
[The remainder of the chapter, quoted in part on pp. 141–146, outlines
the extension of Great Britain’s trade and sea power during the
seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.—EDITOR.]
4. DEFINITION OF TERMS[20]
_Strategy, Tactics, Logistics_
“Strategy,” says Jomini, speaking of the art of war on land, “is the art
of making war upon the map, and comprehends the whole theater of warlike
operations. Grand tactics is the art of posting troops upon the
battlefield, according to the accidents of the ground; of bringing them
into action; and the art of fighting upon the ground in
contradistinction to planning upon a map. Its operations may extend over
a field of ten or twelve miles in extent. Strategy decides where to act.
Grand tactics decides the manner of execution and the employment of
troops,” when, by the combinations of strategy, they have been assembled
at the point of action.
... Between Strategy and Grand Tactics comes logically Logistics.
Strategy decides where to act; Logistics is the act of moving armies; it
brings the troops to the point of action and controls questions of
supply; Grand Tactics decides the methods of giving battle.
5. FUNDAMENTAL PRINCIPLES[21]
_Central Position, Interior Lines, Communications_
The situation here used in illustration is taken from the Thirty Years’
War, 1618–1648, in which the French House of Bourbon opposed the House
of Austria, the latter controlling Spain, Austria, and parts of Germany.
France lay between Spain and Austria; but if Spain commanded the sea,
her forces could reach the field of conflict in central Europe either by
way of Belgium or by way of the Duchy of Milan in northern Italy, both
of which were under her rule.
[The upper course of the Danube between Ulm and Ratisbon is also
employed to illustrate central position, dominating the great European
theater of war north of the Alps and east of the Rhine.—EDITOR.]
The situation of France relatively to her two opponents of this
period—Spain and Austria—illustrates three elements of strategy, of
frequent mention, which it is well here to name and to define, as well
as to illustrate by the instance before you.
1. There is central position, illustrated by France; her national power
and control interposing by land between her enemies. Yet not by land
only, provided the coast supports an adequate navy; for, if that be the
case, the French fleet also interposes between Spanish and Italian
ports. The Danube is similarly an instance of central position.
2. Interior lines. The characteristic of interior lines is that of the
central position prolonged in one or more directions, thus favoring
sustained interposition between separate bodies of an enemy; with the
consequent power to concentrate against either, while holding the other
in check with a force possibly distinctly inferior. An interior line may
be conceived as the extension of a central position, or as a series of
central positions connected with one another, as a geometrical line is a
continuous series of geometrical points. The expression “Interior Lines”
conveys the meaning that from a central position one can assemble more
rapidly on either of two opposite fronts than the enemy can, and
therefore can utilize force more effectively. Particular examples of
maritime interior lines are found in the route by Suez as compared with
that by the Cape of Good Hope, and in Panama contrasted with Magellan.
The Kiel Canal similarly affords an interior line between the Baltic and
North Sea, as against the natural channels passing round Denmark, or
between the Danish Islands,—the Sound and the two Belts.[22] These
instances of “Interior” will recall one of your boyhood’s geometrical
theorems, demonstrating that, from a point interior to a triangle, lines
drawn to two angles are shorter than the corresponding sides of the
triangle itself. Briefly, interior lines are lines shorter in time than
those the enemy can use. France, for instance, in the case before us,
could march twenty thousand men to the Rhine, or to the Pyrenees, or
could send necessary supplies to either, sooner than Spain could send
the same number to the Rhine, or Austria to the Pyrenees, granting even
that the sea were open to their ships.
3. The position of France relatively to Germany and Spain illustrates
also the question of communications. “Communications” is a general term,
designating the lines of movement by which a military body, army or
fleet, is kept in living connection with the national power. This being
the leading characteristic of communications, they may be considered
essentially lines of defensive action; while interior lines are rather
offensive in character, enabling the belligerent favored by them to
attack in force one part of the hostile line sooner than the enemy can
reinforce it, because the assailant is nearer than the friend. As a
concrete instance, the disastrous attempt already mentioned, of Spain in
1639 to send reinforcements by the Channel, followed the route from
Corunna to the Straits of Dover. It did so because at that particular
moment the successes of France had given her control of part of the
valley of the Rhine, closing it to the Spaniards from Milan; while the
more eastern route through Germany was barred by the Swedes, who in the
Thirty Years’ War were allies of France. The Channel therefore at that
moment remained the only road open from Spain to the Netherlands,
between which it became the line of communications. Granting the attempt
had been successful, the line followed is exterior; for, assuming equal
rapidity of movement, ten thousand men starting from central France
should reach the field sooner.
The central position of France, therefore, gave both defensive and
offensive advantage. In consequence of the position she had interior
lines, shorter lines, by which to attack, and also her communications to
either front lay behind the front, were covered by the army at the
front; in other words, had good defense, besides being shorter than
those by which the enemy on one front could send help to the other
front. Further, by virtue of her position, the French ports on the
Atlantic and Channel flanked the Spanish sea communications.
At the present moment, Germany and Austria-Hungary, as members of the
Triple Alliance, have the same advantage of central and concentrated
position against the Triple _Entente_, Russia, France, and Great
Britain.
[Illustration: [Map]]
Transfer now your attention back to the Danube when the scene of war is
in that region; as it was in 1796, and also frequently was during the
period of which we are now speaking.... You have seen before, that, if
there be war between Austria and France, as there so often was, the one
who held the Danube had a central position in the region. Holding means
possession by military power, which power can be used to the full
against the North or against the South—offensive power—far more easily
than the South and North can combine against him; because he is nearer
to each than either is to the other. (See map.) Should North wish to
send a big reinforcement to South, it cannot march across the part of
the Danube held, but must march around it above or below; exactly as, in
1640, reinforcements from Spain to the Rhine had, so to say, to march
around France. In such a march, on land, the reinforcement making it is
necessarily in a long column, because roads do not allow a great many
men to walk abreast. The road followed designates in fact the alignment
of the reinforcement from day to day; and because its advance
continually turns the side to the enemy, around whom it is moving, the
enemy’s position is said to flank the movement, constituting a
recognized danger. It makes no difference whether the line of march is
straight or curved; it is extension upon it that constitutes the danger,
because the line itself, being thin, is everywhere weak, liable to an
attack in force upon a relatively small part of its whole.
Communications are exposed, and the enemy has the interior line....
This is an illustration of the force of Napoleon’s saying, that “War is
a business of positions.” All this discussion turns on position; the
ordinary, semi-permanent, positions of Center, North, and South; or the
succession of positions occupied by the detachment on that line of
communications along which it moves. This illustrates the importance of
positions in a single instance, but is by no means exhaustive of that
importance. Fully to comprehend, it is necessary to study military and
naval history; bearing steadily in mind Napoleon’s saying, and the
definitions of central position, interior lines, and communications.
Take, for example, an instance so recent as to have been contemporary
with men not yet old,—the Turkish position at Plevna in 1877. This
stopped the Russian advance on Constantinople for almost five months.
Why? Because, if they had gone on, Plevna would have been close to their
line of communications, and in a central position relatively to their
forces at the front and those in the rear, or behind the Danube. It was
also so near, that, if the enemy advanced far, the garrison of Plevna
could reach the only bridge across the Danube, at Sistova, and might
destroy it, before help could come; that is, Plevna possessed an
interior line towards a point of the utmost importance. Under these
circumstances, Plevna alone arrested the whole Russian movement. In the
recent war between Japan and Russia,[23] the Port Arthur fleet similarly
threatened the Japanese line of communications from Japan to Manchuria,
and so affected the whole conduct of the war. It was central, as regards
Japan and Liao-Yang, or Mukden. Study of such conditions reinforces
knowledge, by affording numerous illustrations of the effect of position
under very differing circumstances.
Let us now go back from the Danube with its Center, North, and South, to
the communications between the Spanish coast and the Austrian army in
Germany. Should the House of Austria in Spain desire to send large
reinforcements to the Danube, or to the Rhine, by way of Italy, it can
do so, provided it controls the sea; and provided also that France has
not shaken its hold upon North Italy. Such a condition constitutes open
and safe communications. If, however, command of the sea is not assured,
if the French navy, say at Toulon, is equal to the Spanish navy in the
neighborhood, there is danger of a reverse; while if the French navy is
superior locally, there is great danger not merely of a reverse but of a
serious disaster. In such a case the French navy, or the port of Toulon,
flanks the Spanish line of communication; again an instance of position.
As to position, Toulon would correspond to Plevna and Port Arthur. This
instance illustrates, however, as Port Arthur conspicuously did, that
the value of a position is not in the bare position, but in the use you
make of it. This, it is pertinent to note, is just the value of anything
a man possesses, his brains or his fortune—the use he makes of either.
Should the French navy be decisively inferior locally to the Spanish,
Toulon loses its importance. As position it is still good, but it cannot
be used. It is an unavailable asset. So at Plevna, had the garrison been
so small that it could not take the field, the place either would have
been captured, or could have been watched by a detachment, while the
main Russian body moved on. At Port Arthur, the inefficiency of the
Russian navy permitted this course to the Japanese. They watched the
place by navy and army, and went on with their march in Manchuria. Even
so, the threat inherent in the position compelled an immense detachment
of troops necessary for the siege, and so greatly weakened the main army
in its action.
Note that it is the nearness of Toulon, as of Plevna, which constitutes
the menace to the line of communication; the line from the port to that
of the communications is thus an interior line, short, enabling an
attack by surprise, or in force. It is the same consideration that has
made Cadiz at one time, Gibraltar now, Malta, Jamaica, Guantanamo Bay,
all threatening positions; the ones to vessels bound up or down the
Mediterranean to or from Suez, the others to vessels going to or from
the Isthmus of Panama. If it had been feasible for Spain to carry her
reinforcements south of Sardinia and thence north, Toulon would so far
have lost much of this value. As the line drew near Genoa, it would have
regained control only in some measure; that is, to a less degree and for
a shorter time. As a matter of fact such roundabout lines, _fausses
routes_ as Napoleon called them, have played a notable part in the
strategy of a weaker party. The most convenient commercial route is not
necessarily the most significant to strategy. Napoleon, for example,
when bound to Egypt from Malta in 1798, did not go direct, but first
sighted Crete and then bore away for Egypt. Owing to this, Nelson in
pursuit missed the French because he naturally went direct.
The same beneficial effect—the same amount of protection as a roundabout
line would give—might have been obtained if the Spanish navy on the
Atlantic coast threatened French ports and commerce, and thus induced
France to keep her navy, in whole or in part, in that quarter, weakening
her Toulon force; so that, though favorably situated, it was not strong
enough to attack. This was actually the case up to 1634, in which year
the defeat of the allies of France at Nordlingen, due to Spanish troops
from Italy reinforcing the Imperial armies in Germany, compelled France
to declare open war against Spain and to transfer her fleet to the
Mediterranean. This effect was produced also in 1898 on the United
States; not by the Spanish navy, which was innoxious in everything but
talk, but by the fears of the American people, which prompted the
American Government to keep the so-called Flying Squadron in Hampton
Roads, instead of close to the probable scene of war. Owing to this
distribution, if Cervera’s squadron had been efficient, it could have
got into Cienfuegos instead of Santiago; a very much harder nut to
crack, because in close railroad communication with Havana and with the
great mass of the Spanish army in Cuba. It is the same sort of
unintelligent fear which prompts the demand now to send half the battle
fleet to the Pacific. No course could be more entirely satisfactory to
an enemy, or more paralyzing to the United States fleet, than just this.
All or none; the battle fleet concentrated, whether in the Pacific or
the Atlantic.
You will remember that in the war with Spain the United States navy had
reproduced for it the situation I have depicted, of a detachment trying
to pass round the Danube from North to South. The “Oregon” was the
detachment, and she had to join the American fleet in the West Indies,
in spite of the Spanish squadron. She reached Barbados May 18; the day
before Cervera entered Santiago, and six days after he left Martinique,
which is only one hundred miles from Barbados. The utter inefficiency of
the Spanish navy has caused us to lose sight of the risk to the
“Oregon,” which was keenly felt by her commander, and concerning which
at the moment two former secretaries of the navy expressed to me their
anxiety. Despite this experience, there are those now who would
reconstitute it for us, half the fleet in the Pacific and half in the
Atlantic. Should then war arise with a European state, or with Japan, it
would be open to either enemy to take the Danube position between our
two divisions, as Togo did between the Port Arthur and the Baltic
squadrons....
_Concentration_
The general war against the House of Austria, as conducted by Richelieu,
appears to have suffered from the same cause that saps the vigor of many
wars; he attempted too many things at once, instead of concentrating for
decided superiority in some one or two localities. For such
concentration he had good opportunities, owing to the central position
and interior lines possessed by France. It was open to him to act in
great force either in Belgium, or on the Rhine, or in Italy, or towards
Spain. Moreover, he had the initial advantage of a natural
concentration: one nation against two, and those separated in space. The
proverbial weakness of alliances is due to inferior power of
concentration. Granting the same aggregate of force, it is never as
great in two hands as in one, because it is not perfectly concentrated.
Each party to an alliance usually has its particular aim, which divides
action. In any military scheme that comes before you, let your first
question to yourself be, Is this consistent with the requirement of
concentration? Never attempt to straddle, to do two things at the same
time, unless your force is evidently so supreme that you have clearly
more than enough for each.
Our profession has never produced a man more daring in enterprise, nor
more skillful in management, than Nelson. Remember, therefore, and
always, that, when he sent off two frigates on some expedition, he
charged their captains:
“If you meet two enemies, do not each attack one. Combine both on one of
the enemy; you will make sure of that one, and you may also get the
other afterwards; but, whether the second escape or not, your country
will have won a victory, and gained a ship.”
The same consideration applies to ship design. You cannot have
everything. If you attempt it, you will lose everything; by which I mean
that in no one quality will your vessel be as efficient as if you had
concentrated purpose on that one. On a given tonnage,—which in
ship-building corresponds to a given size of army or of fleet,—there
cannot be had the highest speed, _and_ the heaviest battery, _and_ the
thickest armor, _and_ the longest coal endurance, which the tonnage
would allow to any one of these objects by itself. If you try, you will
be repeating Richelieu’s mistake when he tried to carry on offensive war
on four frontiers.
The fighting order of navies still continues a line; which is called
more properly a column, because the ships are ranged one behind the
other. Nevertheless, if the arrangement of the guns, from van to rear,
is regarded, it will be seen that they really are deployed on a line
fronting the enemy. As a rule, in instructed naval warfare, attack has
been on one flank of that line. It is commonly spoken of as an attack on
van or rear, because of the columnar formation of the ships, but it is
really a flank attack; and, whichever flank is chosen, the attack on the
other is essentially refused, because the numbers devoted to it are not
sufficient to press an attack home. The culmination of the sail
era—Trafalgar—was fought exactly on these lines. Nelson concentrated the
bulk of his fleet, a superior force, on the left flank of the enemy,
which happened to be the rear; against the right flank he sent a smaller
number. He did not indeed give specific orders to the smaller body not
to attack, or to refuse themselves. That was not his way. Moreover, he
intended himself to take charge of this attack in smaller force, and to
be governed by circumstances as to the development of it; but the result
was shown in the fact that the larger part of the enemy’s right flank
escaped, and all probably would if they had maneuvered well. The hostile
loss fell on the other flank and on the center; and not only was this
the case in result, but also Nelson in form and in his orders purposed
just this. He put the concentrated attack in the hands of his second;
“I,” said he, in effect, “will see that the other flank of the enemy
does not interfere.” Conditions modified his action; but that was his
plan, and although, from the particular conditions, he actually pierced
the enemy’s center, still, having done so, the subsequent attack fell
upon the flank originally intended, while the other flank was kept in
check by the rear ships of Nelson’s own division. These, as they
advanced in column, lay athwart the line by which the enemy’s van, if it
tacked, would approach the rear, or other flank; and they thus prevented
its approach by that route until too late to be effective.
Nelson, who was a thoughtful as well as a daring tactician, expressed
reasons for attacking one flank rather than another, under differing
conditions in which the fleets presented themselves; but, speaking
generally, the rear was the better to attack, because the van could not,
and cannot, come as soon to help the rear as the rear can the van. It
has to turn round, to begin with; and, before turning round, its
commander has to make up his mind, which few men do quickly, unless they
have reached conclusions beforehand. All this means time. Besides, the
assailant can more easily place himself in the way of such new movement
of the van, than he can of the rear coming up on the line of advance it
already has. Still, there are some reasons in favor of the van. Nelson
in 1801 said that in case of encountering a Russian fleet he would
attack the van; because injury to it would throw the enemy’s order into
confusion, from which the Russians were not good enough maneuverers to
recover. That is a special reason, not a general. It takes account of a
particular circumstance, as a general on shore does of a particular
locality. When Farragut passed the Mobile forts his van was thrown into
confusion, and all know what a critical moment that was. It matters
little what the incident is, if the confusion is produced.
In the Battle of the Japan Sea the attack again was on a flank, and that
the van. Whether this was due to previous purpose of the Japanese, or
merely arose from the conditions as they presented themselves, I do not
know; but its tendency certainly would be to cause confusion. I do not
wish, however, to argue here a question of tactics. My subject is
strategy, and I am using tactics simply to illustrate the predominance,
everywhere, under all conditions and from the nature of things, of the
one great principle of concentration; and that, too, in the specific
method of so distributing your own force as to be superior to the enemy
in one quarter, while in the other you hold him in check long enough to
permit your main attack to reach its full result. That necessary time
may be half an hour on a field of battle; in a campaign it may be days,
weeks, perhaps more.
... In any frontier line, or any strategic front of operations, or any
line of battle, offensive effort may, and therefore should, be
concentrated in one part, not distributed along the whole. This
possibility, and a convenient way of conceiving it, Jomini expresses in
an aphorism which may be commended to memory, because it sums up one
important consideration concerning any military disposition whatever;
whether it be the strategic front of operations in a campaign, or a
tactical order of battle, or a frontier. Every such situation, Jomini
says, may be properly regarded as a line; and every line divides,
logically and actually, into three parts,—the center, and the two
extremes, or flanks.
Guard yourselves, of course, from imagining three _equal_ parts. We are
not dealing here with mathematics, but with military conceptions. For
practical results, let us apply at once to the United States of to-day.
The United States has a long ocean frontier, broken at Mexico by the
interposition of land, as the French maritime frontier is broken at the
Pyrenees; yet the coast lines, like the French, possess a certain
maritime continuity, in that ships can pass from end to end by sea. In
such cases, it may be said without exaggeration that an ocean frontier
is continuous. At present, the United States has one frontier which is
strictly continuous, by land as by water, from the coast of Maine to the
Rio Grande. There are in it, by natural division, three principal parts:
the Atlantic, the Gulf, and the Straits of Florida. I do not deny that
for purposes of study further convenient subdivisions may be made; but
it may fairly be claimed that these three are clear, are primary, and
are principal. They are very unequal in length, and, from the military
standpoint, in importance; for while the peninsula of Florida does not
rank very high in the industrial interests of the nation, a superior
hostile fleet securely based in the Straits of Florida could effectively
control intercourse by water between the two flanks. It would possess
central position; and in virtue of that central position, its
superiority need not be over the whole United States navy, should that
be divided on each side of the central position. The supposed enemy, in
such position, would need only to be decisively superior to each of the
divisions lying on either side; whereas, were they united, superiority
would require to be over the whole. It was this condition which made
Cuba for the first century of our national existence a consideration of
the first importance in our International relations. It flanked national
communications, commercial and military. We know that there exists in
our country an element of wisdom which would treat such a situation,
which geography has constituted for us, as two boys do an apple. This
would divide the fleet between the two coasts, and call it fair to both;
because, so it is reasoned,—or rather argued,—defending both. It
certainly, however, would not be concentration, nor effective.
Before passing on, note the striking resemblance between the Florida
peninsula and that of Korea. Togo, at Masampo, was to Rozhestvensky and
the Russians at Vladivostok just as a hostile fleet in the Straits of
Florida would be to American divisions in the Gulf and at Hampton Roads.
In like manner at an earlier period Togo and Kamimura, working apart but
on interior lines, separated the three fine fighting ships in
Vladivostok from the Port Arthur division.
The United States, however, has an even more urgent situation as to
frontier in its Atlantic and Pacific coasts. If my claim is correct, in
the instance of France, that a water frontier is continuous when passage
from end to end by water is practicable, this is also continuous; and
the battle fleet has demonstrated the fact within the past few years.
The United States, then, has a maritime frontier line from Eastport,
Maine, to Puget Sound; and, like other military lines, it divides into
three principal parts immediately obvious,—the Atlantic Coast, the
Pacific Coast, and the line between. This summary will not be any more
true, nor any more useful for reflection, when the line passes by Panama
instead of the Straits of Magellan; but it certainly will be more
obvious. It then will be seen easily, as now may be seen certainly, that
the important part of the long line in the present case, as in the
future, is the center, because that insures or prevents passage in force
from side to side; the transfer of force; in short, the communications.
This reproduces again the Danube position, and also the chain of Spanish
positions from Genoa to Belgium. It is once more the central position,
which we have met before in such varying localities and periods; but the
central position of Panama has over that now open to us, by Magellan,
the advantage of interior lines, of which class of lines indeed the
contrast between the existing and the future of routes offers a notable
illustration.
6. STRATEGIC POSITIONS[24]
The strategic value of any place depends upon three principal
conditions:
1. Its position, or more exactly its situation. A place may have great
strength, but be so situated with regard to the strategic lines as not
to be worth occupying.
2. Its military strength, offensive and defensive. A place may be well
situated and have large resources and yet possess little strategic
value, because weak. It may, on the other hand, while not naturally
strong, be given artificial strength for defense. The word “fortify”
means simply to make strong.
3. The resources, of the place itself and of the surrounding country....
Where all three conditions, situation, intrinsic strength, and abundant
resources, are found in the same place, it becomes of great consequence
strategically and may be of the very first importance, though not
always. For it must be remarked that there are other considerations,
lesser in the purely military point of view, which enhance the
consequence of a seaport even strategically; such as its being a great
mart of trade, a blow to which would cripple the prosperity of the
country; or the capital, the fall of which has a political effect
additional to its importance otherwise.
I. _Situation_
Of the three principal conditions, the first, situation, is the most
indispensable; because strength and resources can be artificially
supplied or increased, but it passes the power of man to change the
situation of a port which lies outside the limits of strategic effect.
Generally, value of situation depends upon nearness to a sea route; to
those lines of trade which, when drawn upon the ocean common, are as
imaginary as the parallels of the chart, yet as really and usefully
exist. If the position be on two routes at the same time, that is, near
the crossing, the value is enhanced. A cross-roads is essentially a
central position, facilitating action in as many directions as there are
roads. Those familiar with works on the art of land war will recognize
the analogies. The value becomes yet more marked if, by the lay of the
land, the road to be followed becomes very narrow; as at the Straits of
Gibraltar, the English Channel, and in a less degree the Florida Strait.
Perhaps narrowing should be applied to every inlet of the sea, by which
trade enters into and is distributed over a great extent of country;
such as the mouth of the Mississippi, of the Dutch and German rivers,
New York harbor, etc. As regards the sea, however, harbors or the mouths
of rivers are usually _termini_ or _entrepôts_, at which goods are
transshipped before going farther. If the road be narrowed to a mere
canal, or to the mouth of a river, the point to which vessels must come
is reduced almost to the geometrical definition of a point and near-by
positions have great command. Suez presents this condition now, and
Panama soon will.
Analogously, positions in narrow seas are more important than those in
the great ocean, because it is less possible to avoid them by a circuit.
If these seas are not merely the ends—“_termini_”—of travel but
“highways,” parts of a continuous route; that is, if commerce not only
comes to them but passes through to other fields beyond, the number of
passing ships is increased and thereby the strategic value of the
controlling points....
[Illustrations are here employed to show that, owing to the freedom of
movements on the open sea, dangerous positions when not located in
narrow channels are more easily avoided than on land. Hence “_fausses
routes et moments perdus_,” in Napoleon’s phrase, play an important part
in naval operations, as shown by Napoleon’s route to Egypt via Malta and
Crete, and Rozhestvensky’s choice of routes before Tsushima. On the
other hand, obstacles when they exist are impassable. Only submarines
can avoid danger by transit over land.—EDITOR.]
II. _Military Strength_
A. _Defensive Strength._ [Military strength is considered in two
aspects, (A) defensive, and (B) offensive. Under defensive strength, it
is first pointed out that, as illustrated by Port Arthur and Santiago,
coast bases are in chief danger of capture from the land side. While it
is the business of the navy to prevent the landing of forces, its
operations, though defensive in result, must be offensive in character,
and not confined to the vicinity of the bases.—EDITOR.]
In the sphere of maritime war, the navy represents the army in the
field; and the fortified strategic harbors, upon which it falls back as
ports of refuge after battle or defeat, for repairs or for supplies,
correspond precisely to strongholds, like Metz, Strasburg, Ulm, upon
which, systematically occupied with reference to the strategic character
of the theater of war, military writers agree the defense of a country
must be founded. The foundation, however, must not be taken for the
superstructure for which it exists. In war, the defensive exists mainly
that the offensive may act more freely. In sea warfare, the offensive is
assigned to the navy; and if the latter assumes to itself the defensive,
it simply locks up a part of its trained men in garrisons, which could
be filled as well by forces that have not their peculiar skill. To this
main proposition I must add a corollary, that if the defense of ports,
many in number, be attributed to the navy, experience shows that the
navy will be subdivided among them to an extent that will paralyze its
efficiency. I was amused, but at the same time instructed as to popular
understanding of war, by the consternation aroused in Great Britain by
one summer’s maneuvers, already alluded to, and the remedy proposed in
some papers. It appeared that several seaports were open to bombardment
and consequent exaction of subsidies by a small squadron, and it was
gravely urged that the navy should be large enough to spare a small
detachment to each port. Of what use is a navy, if it is to be thus
whittled away? But a popular outcry will drown the voice of military
experience.
... The strictly defensive strength of a seaport depends therefore upon
permanent works, the provision of which is not the business of naval
officers. The navy is interested in them because, when effective, they
release it from any care about the port; from defensive action to the
offensive, which is its proper sphere.
There is another sense in which a navy is regarded as defensive; namely,
that the existence of an adequate navy protects from invasion by
commanding the sea. That is measurably and in very large degree true,
and is a strategic function of great importance; but this is a wholly
different question from that of the defensive strength of seaports, of
strategic points, with which we are now dealing. It therefore will be
postponed, with a simple warning against the opinion that because the
navy thus defends there is no need for local protection of the strategic
ports; no need, that is, for fortifications. This view affirms that a
military force can always, under all circumstances, dispense with secure
bases of operations; in other words, that it can never be evaded, nor
know momentary mishap.
I have now put before you reasons for rejecting the opinion that the
navy is the proper instrument, generally speaking, for coast defense in
the narrow sense of the expression, which limits it to the defense of
ports. The reasons given may be summed up, and reduced to four
principles, as follows:
1. That for the same amount of offensive power, floating batteries, or
vessels of very little mobility, are less strong defensively against
naval attack than land works are.
2. That by employing able-bodied seafaring men to defend harbors you
lock up offensive strength in an inferior, that is, in a defensive,
effort.
3. That it is injurious to the _morale_ and skill of seamen to keep them
thus on the defensive and off the sea. This has received abundant
historical proof in the past.
4. That in giving up the offensive the navy gives up its proper sphere,
which is also the most effective.
B. _Offensive Strength._—The offensive strength of a seaport, considered
independently of its strategic situation and of its natural and acquired
resources, consists in its capacity:
1. To assemble and hold a large military force, of both ships of war and
transports.
2. To launch such force safely and easily into the deep.
3. To follow it with a continued support until the campaign is ended. In
such support are always to be reckoned facilities for docking, as the
most important of all supports.
[These points are discussed in detail. It is noted that a port with
two outlets, like New York and Vladivostok, has a decided
advantage.—EDITOR.]
III. _Resources_
The wants of a navy are so many and so varied that it would be time lost
to name them separately. The resources which meet them may be usefully
divided under two heads, natural and artificial. The latter, again, may
be conveniently and accurately subdivided into resources developed by
man in his peaceful occupation and use of a country, and those which are
immediately and solely created for the maintenance of war.
Other things being equal, the most favorable condition is that where
great natural resources, joined to a good position for trade, have drawn
men to settle and develop the neighboring country. Where the existing
resources are purely artificial and for war, the value of the port, in
so far, is inferior to that of one where the ordinary occupations of the
people supply the necessary resources. To use the phraseology of our
subject, a seaport that has good strategic situation and great military
strength, but to which all resources must be brought from a distance, is
much inferior to a similar port having a rich and developed friendly
region behind it. Gibraltar and ports on small islands, like Santa Lucia
and Martinique, labor under this disadvantage, as compared with ports of
England, France, the United States; or even of a big island like Cuba,
if the latter be developed by an industrial and commercial people.
7. STRATEGIC LINES[25]
_Communications_
The most important of strategic lines are those which concern the
communications. Communications dominate war. This has peculiar force on
shore, because an army is immediately dependent upon supplies frequently
renewed. It can endure a brief interruption much less readily than a
fleet can, because ships carry the substance of communications largely
in their own bottoms. So long as the fleet is able to face the enemy at
sea, communications mean essentially, not geographical lines, like the
roads an army has to follow, but those necessaries, supplies of which
the ships cannot carry in their own hulls beyond a limited amount. These
are, first, fuel; second, ammunition; last of all, food. These
necessaries, owing to the facility of water transportation as compared
with land, can accompany the movements of a fleet in a way impossible to
the train of an army. An army train follows rather than accompanies, by
roads which may be difficult and must be narrow; whereas maritime roads
are easy, and inimitably wide.
Nevertheless, all military organizations, land or sea, are ultimately
dependent upon open communications with the basis of the national power;
and the line of communications is doubly of value, because it usually
represents also the line of retreat. Retreat is the extreme expression
of dependence upon the home base. In the matter of communications, free
supplies and open retreat are two essentials to the _safety_ of an army
or of a fleet. Napoleon at Marengo in 1800, and again at Ulm in 1805,
succeeded in placing himself upon the Austrian line of communication and
of retreat, in force sufficient to prevent supplies coming forward from
the base, or the army moving backward to the base. At Marengo there was
a battle, at Ulm none; but at each the results depended upon the same
condition,—the line of communication controlled by the enemy. In the War
of Secession the forts of the Mississippi were conquered as soon as
Farragut’s fleet, by passing above, held their line of communications.
Mantua in 1796 was similarly conquered as soon as Napoleon had placed
himself upon the line of retreat of its garrison. It held out for six
months, very properly; but the rest of the campaign was simply an effort
of the outside Austrians to drive the French off the line, and thus to
reinforce the garrison or to enable it to retreat.
_Importance of Sea Communications_[26]
Except Russia and Japan, the nations actively concerned in this great
problem [the problem of Asia] rest, for home bases, upon remote
countries. We find therefore two classes of powers: those whose
communication is by land, and those who depend upon the sea. The sea
lines are the most numerous and easy, and they will probably be
determinative of the courses of trade. Among them there are two the
advantages of which excel all others—for Europe by Suez, from America by
way of the Pacific Ocean. The latter will doubtless receive further
modification by an isthmian canal, extending the use of the route to the
Atlantic seaboard of America, North and South.
Communications dominate war; broadly considered, they are the most
important single element in strategy, political or military. In its
control over them has lain the pre-eminence of sea power—as an influence
upon the history of the past; and in this it will continue, for the
attribute is inseparable from its existence. This is evident because,
for reasons previously explained, transit in large quantities and for
great distances is decisively more easy and copious by water than by
land. The sea, therefore, is the great medium of communications—of
commerce. The very sound, “commerce,” brings with it a suggestion of the
sea, for it is maritime commerce that has in all ages been most fruitful
of wealth; and wealth is but the concrete expression of a nation’s
energy of life, material and mental. The power, therefore, to insure
these communications to one’s self, and to interrupt them for an
adversary, affects the very root of a nation’s vigor, as in military
operations it does the existence of an army, or as the free access to
rain and sun—communication from without—does the life of a plant. This
is the prerogative of the sea powers; and this chiefly—if not, indeed,
this alone—they have to set off against the disadvantage of position and
of numbers under which, with reference to land power, they labor in
Asia. It is enough. Pressure afar off—diversion—is adequate to relieve
that near at hand, as Napoleon expected to conquer Pondicherry on the
banks of the Vistula. But if the sea powers embrace the proposition that
has found favor in America, and, by the concession of immunity to an
enemy’s commerce in time of war, surrender their control of maritime
communications, they will have abdicated the scepter of the sea, for
they will have abandoned one chief means by which pressure in one
quarter—the sea—balances pressure in a remote and otherwise inaccessible
quarter. Never was moment for such abandonment less propitious than the
present, when the determination of influence in Asia is at stake.
8. OFFENSIVE OPERATIONS[27]
[The situation here considered is that of a fleet that has driven the
enemy from a base in the theater of war, but has still to cope with the
enemy fleet falling back on another base.—EDITOR.]
The case of further advance from your new base may not be complicated by
the consideration of great distance. The next step requisite to be taken
may be short, as from Cuba to Jamaica; or it may be that the enemy’s
fleet is still at sea, in which case it is the great objective, now as
always. Its being at sea may be because retreating, from the position
you have occupied, towards his remoter base; either because conscious of
inferiority, or, perhaps, after a defeat more or less decisive. It will
then be necessary to act with rapidity, in order to cut off the enemy
from his port of destination. If there is reason to believe that you can
overtake and pass him with superior force, every effort to do so must be
made. The direction of his retreat is known or must be ascertained, and
it will be borne in mind that the base to which he is retreating and his
fleet are separated parts of one force, the union of which must be
prevented. In such a case, the excuses frequently made for a sluggish
pursuit ashore, such as fatigue of troops, heavy roads, etc., do not
apply. Crippled battleships must be dropped, or ordered to follow with
the colliers. Such a pursuit presumes but one disadvantage to the
chasing fleet, viz., that it is leaving its coal base while the chase is
approaching his; and this, if the calculations are close, may give the
pursuing admiral great anxiety. Such anxieties are the test and penalty
of greatness. In such cases, excuses for failure attributed to shortness
of coal will be closely scrutinized; and justly. In all other respects,
superiority must be assumed, because on no other condition could such
headlong pursuit be made. It aims at a great success, and successes will
usually be in proportion to superiority, either original or acquired.
“What the country needs,” said Nelson, “is the annihilation of the
enemy. Only numbers can annihilate.”
If such a chase follow a battle, it can scarcely fail that the weaker
party—the retreating party—is also distressed by crippled ships, which
he may be forced to abandon—or fight. Strenuous, unrelaxing pursuit is
therefore as imperative after a battle as is courage during it. Great
political results often flow from correct military action; a fact which
no military commander is at liberty to ignore. He may very well not know
of those results; it is enough to know that they may happen, and nothing
can excuse his losing a point which by exertion he might have scored.
Napoleon, says Jomini, never forgave the general who in 1796, by resting
his troops a couple of hours, failed to get between an Austrian division
and Mantua, in which it was seeking refuge, and by his neglect found it.
The failure of Admiral de Tourville to pursue vigorously the defeated
Dutch and English fleet, after the battle of Beachy Head, in 1690,
caused that victory to be indecisive, and helped to fasten the crown of
England on the head of a Dutch King, who was the soul of the alliance
against France. Slackness in following up victory had thus a decisive
influence upon the results of the whole war, both on the continent and
the sea. I may add, it has proved injurious to the art of naval
strategy, by the seeming confirmation it has given to the theory of the
“fleet in being.” It was not the beaten and crippled English and Dutch
“fleet in being” that prevented an invasion of England. It was the
weakness or inertness of Tourville, or the unreadiness of the French
transports.
Similarly, the refusal of Admiral Hotham to pursue vigorously a beaten
French fleet in 1795, unquestionably not only made that year’s campaign
indecisive, but made possible Napoleon’s Italian campaign of 1796, from
which flowed his whole career and its effects upon history. The same
dazzling career received its sudden mortal stab when, in the height of
his crushing advance in Spain, with its capital in his hands, at the
very moment when his vast plans seemed on the eve of accomplishment, a
more enterprising British leader, Sir John Moore, moved his petty army
to Sahagun, on the flank of Napoleon’s communications between France and
Madrid. The blow recoiled upon Moore, who was swept as by a whirlwind to
Coruña, and into the sea; but Spain was saved. The Emperor could not
retrieve the lost time and opportunity. He could not return to Madrid in
person, but had to entrust to several subordinates the task which only
his own supreme genius could successfully supervise. From the military
standpoint, his downfall dates from that day. The whole career of
Wellington, to Waterloo, lay in the womb of Moore’s daring conception.
But for that, wrote Napier, the Peninsular War would not have required a
chronicler.
An admiral may not be able to foresee such remote consequences of his
action, but he can safely adopt the principle expressed by Nelson, in
the instance just cited, after hearing his commander-in-chief say they
had done well enough: “If ten ships out of eleven were taken, I would
never call it well enough, if we were able to get at the eleventh.”
The relations between the fleets of Admirals Rozhestvensky and Togo
prior to their meeting off Tsushima bore no slight resemblance to those
between a pursued and a pursuing fleet. The Russian fleet, which had
started before the Port Arthur division succumbed, was placed by that
event in the position of a fleet which has suffered defeat so severe
that its first effort must be to escape into its own ports. This was so
obvious that many felt a retreat upon the Baltic was the only course
left open; but, failing that, Rozhestvensky argued that he should rush
on to Vladivostok at once, before the Japanese should get again into the
best condition to intercept him, by repairing their ships, cleaning the
bottoms, and refreshing the ships’ companies. Instead of so ordering,
the Russian government decided to hold him at Nossi-Bé (the north end of
Madagascar), pending a reinforcement to be sent under Admiral
Nebogatoff. Something is to be said for both views, in the abstract; but
considering that the reinforcement was heterogeneous and inferior in
character, that the Russian first aim was not battle but escape to
Vladivostok, and, especially, that the Japanese were particularly
anxious to obtain the use of delay for the very purpose Rozhestvensky
feared, it seems probable that he was right. In any event, he was
delayed at Nossi-Bé from January 9 to March 16; and afterwards at
Kamranh Bay in French Cochin-China, from April 14 to May 9, when
Nebogatoff joined. Allowing time for coaling and refitting, this
indicates a delay of sixty to seventy days; the actual time underway
from Nossi-Bé to Tsushima being only forty-five days. Thus, but for the
wait for Nebogatoff, the Russian division would have reached Tsushima
two months before it did, or about March 20.
Togo did not have to get ahead of a flying fleet, for by the fortune of
position he was already ahead of it; but he did have to select the best
position for intercepting it, as well as to decide upon his general
course of action: whether, for instance, he should advance to meet it;
whether he should attempt embarrassment by his superior force of torpedo
vessels, so as to cripple or destroy some of its units, thus reducing
further a force already inferior; also the direction and activities of
his available scouts. His action may be taken as expressing his opinions
on these subjects. He did not advance; he did not attempt harassment
prior to meeting; he concentrated his entire battle force on the line by
which he expected the enemy must advance; and he was so far in ignorance
of their movements that he received information only on the very morning
of the battle. This was well enough; but it is scarcely unreasonable to
say it might have been bettered. The Japanese, however, had behind them
a large part of a successful naval campaign, the chief points of which
it is relevant to our subject to note. They had first by a surprise
attack inflicted a marked injury on the enemy’s fleet, which obtained
for them a time of delay and opportunity during its enforced inactivity.
They had then reduced one of the enemy’s two naval bases, and destroyed
the division sheltered in it. By this they had begun to beat the enemy
in detail, and had left the approaching reinforcement only one possible
port of arrival.
If a flying fleet has been lost to sight and has but one port of refuge,
pursuit, of course, will be directed upon that port; but if there are
more, the chasing admiral will have to decide upon what point to direct
his fleet, and will send out despatch vessels in different directions to
find the enemy and transmit intelligence. Cruisers engaged in such duty
should be notified of the intended or possible movements of the fleet,
and when practicable should be sent in couples; for although wireless
telegraphy has now superseded the necessity of sending one back with
information, while the other remains in touch with the enemy, accidents
may happen, and in so important a matter it seems expedient to double
precautions. The case resembles duplicating important correspondence;
for wireless cannot act before it has news, and to obtain news objects
must be seen. It is to be remembered, too, that wireless messages may be
intercepted, to the serious disadvantage of the sender. It seems
possible that conjunctures may arise when it will be safer to send a
vessel with tidings rather than commit them to air waves.
Thus, in theory, and to make execution perfect,—to capture, so to say,
Nelson’s eleventh ship,—the aim must be to drive the enemy out of every
foothold in the whole theater of war, and particularly to destroy or
shut up his fleet. Having accomplished the great feature of the task by
getting hold of the most decisive position, further effort must be
directed towards, possibly not upon, those points which may serve him
still for bases. In so doing, your fleet must not be divided, unless
overwhelmingly strong, and must not extend its lines of communication
beyond the power of protecting them, unless it be for a dash of limited
duration.
If compelled to choose between fortified ports of the enemy and his
fleet, the latter will be regarded as the true objective; but a blockade
of the ports, or an attack upon them, may be the surest means of
bringing the ships within reach. Thus, in the War of American
Independence, the siege of Gibraltar compelled the British fleet on more
than one occasion to come within fighting reach of the enemy’s
blockading fleet, in order to throw in supplies. That the allies did not
attack, except on one occasion, does not invalidate the lesson. Corbett
in his “Seven Years’ War” points out very justly, in Byng’s celebrated
failure, which cost him his life, that if he had moved against the
French transports, in a neighboring bay, the French admiral would have
had to attack, and the result might have been more favorable to the
British. Such movements are essentially blows at the communications of
the enemy, and if aimed without unduly risking your own will be in
thorough accord with the most assured principles of strategy. A
militarily effective blockade of a base essential to the enemy will
force his fleet either to fight or to abandon the theater of war. Thus,
as has been pointed out elsewhere, in Suffren’s campaign in Indian Seas,
so long as Trincomalee was in possession of the British, a threat at it
was sure to bring them out to fight, although it was not their principal
base. The abandonment of the theater of war by the navy will cause the
arsenal to fall in time, through failure of resources, as Gibraltar must
have fallen if the British fleet had not returned and supplied it at
intervals. Such a result, however, is less complete than a victory over
the enemy’s navy, which would lead to the same end, and so be a double
success, ships _and_ port.
9. THE VALUE OF THE DEFENSIVE[28]
It is true that in certain respects the defensive has advantages, the
possession of which may even justify an expression, which has been
stated as a maxim of war, that “Defense is a stronger form of war than
Offense is.” I do not like the expression, for it seems to me misleading
as to the determinative characteristics of a defensive attitude; but it
may pass, if properly qualified. What is meant by it is that in a
particular operation, or even in a general plan, the party on the
defense, since he makes no forward movement for the time, can strengthen
his preparations, make deliberate and permanent dispositions; while the
party on the offensive, being in continual movement, is more liable to
mistake, of which the defense may take advantage, and in any case has to
accept as part of his problem the disadvantage, to him, of the
accumulated preparations that the defense has been making while he has
been marching. The extreme example of preparation is a fortified
permanent post; but similar instances are found in a battle field
carefully chosen for advantages of ground, where attack is awaited, and
in a line of ships, which by the solidarity of its order, and deployment
of broadside, awaits an enemy who has to approach in column with
disadvantage as to train of guns. In so far, the _form_ taken by the
defense is stronger than the _form_ assumed for the moment by the
offense.
If you will think clearly, you will recognize that at Tsushima the
Japanese were on the defensive, for their object was to stop, to thwart,
the Russian attempt. Essentially, whatever the tactical method they
adopted, they were to spread their broadsides across the road to
Vladivostok, and await. The Russians were on the offensive, little as we
are accustomed so to regard them; they had to get through to
Vladivostok—if they could. They had to hold their course to the place,
and to break through the Japanese,—if they could. In short, they were on
the offensive, and the form of their approach had to be in column, bows
on,—a weaker form,—which they had to abandon, tactically, as soon as
they came under fire.
In our hostilities with Spain, also, Cervera’s movement before reaching
Santiago was offensive in character, the attitude of the United States
defensive; that is, he was trying to effect something which the American
Navy was set to prevent. There being three principal Spanish ports,
Havana, Cienfuegos, and Santiago, we could not be certain for which he
would try, and should have been before two in such force that an attempt
by him would have assured a battle. We were strong enough for such a
disposition. The two ports thus to be barred were evidently Havana and
Cienfuegos. The supposed necessity for defending our northern coast left
Cienfuegos open. Had Cervera made for it, he would have reached it
before the Flying Squadron did. The need for keeping the Flying Squadron
in Hampton Roads was imaginary, but it none the less illustrates the
effect of inadequate coast defenses upon the military plan of the
nation.
The author whom I quote (Corbett, “Seven Years’ War,” Vol. I, p. 92),
who himself quotes from one of the first of authorities, Clausewitz, has
therefore immediately to qualify his maxim, thus:
“When we say that defense is a stronger form of war, _that is, that it
requires a smaller force, if soundly designed_, we are speaking, of
course, only of one certain line of operations. If we do not know the
general line of operation on which the enemy intends to attack, and so
cannot mass our force upon it, then defense is weak, because we are
compelled to distribute our force so as to be strong enough to stop the
enemy on any line of operations he may adopt.”
Manifestly, however, a force capable of being strong enough on several
lines of operation to stop an enemy possesses a superiority that should
take the offensive. In the instance just cited, of Cervera’s approach,
the American true policy of concentration would have had to yield to
distribution, between Cienfuegos and Havana. Instead of a decisive
superiority on one position, there would have been a bare equality upon
two. Granting an enemy of equal skill and training, the result might
have been one way or the other; and the only compensation would have
been that the enemy would have been so badly handled that, to use
Nelson’s phrase, he would give no more trouble that season, and the
other American division would have controlled the seas, as Togo did
after August 10, 1904. From the purely professional point of view it is
greatly to be regretted that the Spaniards and Russians showed such poor
professional aptitude.
The radical disadvantage of the defensive is evident. It not only is the
enforced attitude of a weaker party, but it labors under the further
onerous uncertainty where the offensive may strike, when there is more
than one line of operation open to him, as there usually is. This tends
to entail dissemination of force. The advantages of the defensive have
been sufficiently indicated; they are essentially those of deliberate
preparation, shown in precautions of various kinds. In assuming the
defensive you take for granted the impossibility of your own permanent
advance and the ability of the enemy to present himself before your
front in superior numbers; unless you can harass him on the way and
cause loss enough to diminish the inequality. Unless such disparity
exists, you should be on the offensive. On the other hand, in the
defensive it has to be taken for granted that you have on your side a
respectable though inferior battle fleet, and a sea frontier possessing
a certain number of ports which cannot be reduced without regular
operations, in which the armed shipping can be got ready for battle, and
to which, as to a base, they can retire for refit. Without these two
elements there can be no serious defense.
10. COMMERCE-DESTROYING AND BLOCKADE[29]
It is desirable to explain here what was, and is, the particular
specific utility of operations directed toward the destruction of an
enemy’s commerce; what its bearing upon the issues of war; and how,
also, it affects the relative interests of antagonists, unequally paired
in the matter of sea power. Without attempting to determine precisely
the relative importance of internal and external commerce, which varies
with each country, and admitting that the length of transportation
entails a distinct element of increased cost upon the articles
transported, it is nevertheless safe to say that, to nations having free
access to the sea, the export and import trade is a very large factor in
national prosperity and comfort. At the very least, it increases by so
much the aggregate of commercial transactions, while the ease and
copiousness of water carriage go far to compensate for the increase of
distance. Furthermore, the public revenue of maritime states is largely
derived from duties on imports. Hence arises, therefore, a large source
of wealth, of money; and money—ready money or substantial credit—is
proverbially the sinews of war, as the War of 1812 was amply to
demonstrate. Inconvertible assets, as business men know, are a very
inefficacious form of wealth in tight times; and war is always a tight
time for a country, a time in which its positive wealth, in the shape of
every kind of produce, is of little use, unless by freedom of exchange
it can be converted into cash for governmental expenses. To this sea
commerce greatly contributes, and the extreme embarrassment under which
the United States as a nation labored in 1814 was mainly due to
commercial exclusion from the sea. To attack the commerce of the enemy
is therefore to cripple him, in the measure of success achieved, in the
particular factor which is vital to the maintenance of war. Moreover, in
the complicated conditions of mercantile activity no one branch can be
seriously injured without involving others.
This may be called the financial and political effect of “commerce
destroying,” as the modern phrase runs. In military effect, it is
strictly analogous to the impairing of an enemy’s communications, of the
line of supplies connecting an army with its base of operations, upon
the maintenance of which the life of the army depends. Money, credit, is
the life of war; lessen it, and vigor flags; destroy it, and resistance
dies. No resource then remains except to “make war support war;” that
is, to make the vanquished pay the bills for the maintenance of the army
which has crushed him, or which is proceeding to crush whatever
opposition is left alive. This, by the extraction of private money, and
of supplies for the use of his troops, from the country in which he was
fighting, was the method of Napoleon, than whom no man held more
delicate views concerning the gross impropriety of capturing private
property at sea, whither his power did not extend. Yet this, in effect,
is simply another method of forcing the enemy to surrender a large part
of his means, so weakening him, while transferring it to the victor for
the better propagation of hostilities. The exaction of a pecuniary
indemnity from the worsted party at the conclusion of a war, as is
frequently done, differs from the seizure of property in transit afloat
only in method, and as peace differs from war. In either case, money or
money’s worth is exacted; but when peace supervenes, the method of
collection is left to the Government of the country, in pursuance of its
powers of taxation, to distribute the burden among the people; whereas
in war, the primary object being immediate injury to the enemy’s
fighting power, it is not only legitimate in principle, but particularly
effective, to seek the disorganization of his financial system by a
crushing attack upon one of its important factors, because effort thus
is concentrated on a readily accessible, fundamental element of his
general prosperity. That the loss falls directly on individuals, or a
class, instead of upon the whole community, is but an incident of war,
just as some men are killed and others not. Indirectly, but none the
less surely, the whole community, and, what is more important, the
organized government, are crippled; offensive powers impaired.
But while this is the absolute tendency of war against commerce, common
to all cases, the relative value varies greatly with the countries
having recourse to it. It is a species of hostilities easily
extemporized by a great maritime nation; it therefore favors one whose
policy is not to maintain a large naval establishment. It opens a field
for a sea militia force, requiring little antecedent military training.
Again, it is a logical military reply to commercial blockade, which is
the most systematic, regularized, and extensive form of
commerce-destruction known to war. Commercial blockade is not to be
confounded with the military measure of confining a body of hostile
ships of war to their harbor, by stationing before it a competent force.
It is directed against merchant vessels, and is not a military operation
in the narrowest sense, in that it does not necessarily involve
fighting, nor propose the capture of the blockaded harbor. It is not
usually directed against military ports, unless these happen to be also
centers of commerce. Its object, which was the paramount function of the
United States Navy during the Civil War, dealing probably the most
decisive blow inflicted upon the Confederacy, is the destruction of
commerce by closing the ports of egress and ingress. Incidental to that,
all ships, neutrals included, attempting to enter or depart, after
public notification through customary channels, are captured and
confiscated as remorselessly as could be done by the most greedy
privateer. Thus constituted, the operation receives far wider scope than
commerce-destruction on the high seas; for this is confined to
merchantmen of belligerents, while commercial blockade, by universal
consent, subjects to capture neutrals who attempt to infringe it,
because, by attempting to defeat the efforts of one belligerent, they
make themselves parties to the war.
In fact, commercial blockade, though most effective as a military
measure in broad results, is so distinctly commerce-destructive in
essence, that those who censure the one form must logically proceed to
denounce the other. This, as has been seen, Napoleon did; alleging in
his Berlin Decree, in 1806, that war cannot be extended to any private
property whatever, and that the right of blockade is restricted to
_fortified_ places, actually invested by competent forces. This he had
the face to assert, at the very moment when he was compelling every
vanquished state to extract, from the private means of its subjects,
coin running up to hundreds of millions to replenish his military chest
for further extension of hostilities. Had this dictum been accepted
international law in 1861, the United States could not have closed the
ports of the Confederacy, the commerce of which would have proceeded
unmolested; and hostile measures being consequently directed against
men’s persons instead of their trade, victory, if accomplished at all,
would have cost three lives for every two actually lost.
It is apparent, immediately on statement, that against
commerce-destruction by blockade, the recourse of the weaker maritime
belligerent is commerce-destruction by cruisers on the high sea.
Granting equal efficiency in the use of either measure, it is further
plain that the latter is intrinsically far less efficacious. To cut off
access to a city is much more certainly accomplished by holding the
gates than by scouring the country in search of persons seeking to
enter. Still, one can but do what one can. In 1861 to 1865, the Southern
Confederacy, unable to shake off the death grip fastened on its throat,
attempted counteraction by means of the “Alabama,” “Sumter,” and their
less famous consorts, with what disastrous influence upon the
navigation—the shipping—of the Union it is needless to insist. But while
the shipping of the opposite belligerent was in this way not only
crippled, but indirectly was swept from the seas, the Confederate
cruisers, not being able to establish a blockade, could not prevent
neutral vessels from carrying on the commerce of the Union. This
consequently suffered no serious interruption; whereas the produce of
the South, its inconvertible wealth—cotton chiefly—was practically
useless to sustain the financial system and credit of the people. So, in
1812 and the two years following, the United States flooded the seas
with privateers, producing an effect upon British commerce which, though
inconclusive singly, doubtless co-operated powerfully with other motives
to dispose the enemy to liberal terms of peace. It was the reply, and
the only possible reply, to the commercial blockade, the grinding
efficacy of which it will be a principal object of these pages to
depict. The issue to us has been accurately characterized by Mr. Henry
Adams, in the single word “Exhaustion.”[30]
Both parties to the War of 1812 being conspicuously maritime in
disposition and occupation, while separated by three thousand miles of
ocean, the sea and its navigable approaches became necessarily the most
extensive scene of operations. There being between them great inequality
of organized naval strength and of pecuniary resources, they inevitably
resorted, according to their respective force, to one or the other form
of maritime hostilities against commerce which have been indicated. To
this procedure combats on the high seas were merely incidental.
Tradition, professional pride, and the combative spirit inherent in both
peoples, compelled fighting when armed vessels of nearly equal strength
met; but such contests, though wholly laudable from the naval
standpoint, which under ordinary circumstances cannot afford to
encourage retreat from an equal foe, were indecisive of general results,
however meritorious in particular execution. They had no effect upon the
issue, except so far as they inspired moral enthusiasm and confidence.
Still more, in the sequel they have had a distinctly injurious effect
upon national opinion in the United States. In the brilliant exhibition
of enterprise, professional skill, and usual success, by its naval
officers and seamen, the country has forgotten the precedent neglect of
several administrations to constitute the navy as strong in proportion
to the means of the country as it was excellent through the spirit and
acquirements of its officers. Sight also has been lost of the actual
conditions of repression, confinement, and isolation, enforced upon the
maritime frontier during the greater part of the war, with the misery
and mortification thence ensuing. It has been widely inferred that the
maritime conditions in general were highly flattering to national pride,
and that a future emergency could be confronted with the same supposed
facility, and as little preparation, as the odds of 1812 are believed to
have been encountered and overcome. This mental impression, this
picture, is false throughout, alike in its grouping of incidents, in its
disregard of proportion, and in its ignoring of facts. The truth of this
assertion will appear in due course of this narrative, and it will be
seen that, although relieved by many brilliant incidents, indicative of
the real spirit and capacity of the nation, the record upon the whole is
one of gloom, disaster, and governmental incompetence, resulting from
lack of national preparation, due to the obstinate and blind
prepossessions of the Government, and, in part, of the people.
_Command of the Sea Decisive_[31]
It is not the taking of individual ships or convoys, be they few or
many, that strikes down the money power of a nation; it is the
possession of that overbearing power on the sea which drives the enemy’s
flag from it, or allows it to appear only as a fugitive; and which, by
controlling the great common, closes the highways by which commerce
moves to and from the enemy’s shores. This overbearing power can only be
exercised by great navies, and by them (on the broad sea) less
efficiently now than in the days when the neutral flag had not its
present immunity.[32] It is not unlikely that, in the event of a war
between maritime nations, an attempt may be made by the one having a
great sea power and wishing to break down its enemy’s commerce, to
interpret the phrase “effective blockade” in the manner that best suits
its interests at the time; to assert that the speed and disposal of its
ships make the blockade effective at much greater distances and with
fewer ships than formerly. The determination of such a question will
depend, not upon the weaker belligerent, but upon neutral powers; it
will raise the issue between belligerent and neutral rights; and if the
belligerent have a vastly overpowering navy he may carry his point, just
as England, when possessing the mastery of the seas, long refused to
admit the doctrine of the neutral flag covering the goods.
11. STRATEGIC FEATURES OF THE GULF OF MEXICO AND THE CARIBBEAN[33]
In the special field proposed for our study, there are two principal
points of such convergence—or divergence: the mouth of the Mississippi
River, and the Central-American Isthmus. At the time when these lectures
were first written the opinion of the world was hesitating between
Panama and Nicaragua as the best site for a canal through the Isthmus.
This question having now been settled definitively in favor of Panama,
the particular point of convergence for trade routes passing through the
Caribbean for the Pacific will continue at Colon, whither it for so long
has been determined because there is the terminus of the Panama
Railroad.
These two meeting points or cross-roads have long been, and still are,
points of supreme interest to all mankind. At the one all the highways
of the Mississippi valley, all the tributaries and sub-tributaries of
the great river, meet, and thence they part. At the other all highways
between the Atlantic and Pacific focus and intersect. The advancing
population and development of the Mississippi valley, and the completion
of the Panama Canal, will work together to cause this international
interest to grow proportionately in the future. Among the great Powers
of the world, no one is concerned so vitally in this progress as is the
United States; because of her possession of one of these centers, the
mouth of the Mississippi with its huge back country, and because of her
geographical nearness to the other. This peculiar interest, which is
natural and inevitable in virtue of proximity, is emphasized by the
national policy known as the Monroe Doctrine; and still more by the
particular result of the Doctrine which has involved the control,
administration, and military protection of that belt of Isthmian
territory called the Panama Canal Zone.
[Illustration: GULF OF MEXICO AND CARIBBEAN SEA]
[In the intervening pages, it is shown that the triangle drawn on the
map (p. 101) includes all points of strategic importance, these being
indicated by black squares. Cuba is the key to the Gulf of Mexico, and
also controls three entrances to the Caribbean—the Yucatan, Windward,
and Mona Passages. The entrances, the chief points of destination
(Jamaica and the Isthmus), and the routes thither, constitute the main
objects of military control in the Caribbean.—EDITOR.]
... Taking all together, control over transit depending upon situation
only, other conditions being equal, is greatest with Jamaica, next with
Cuba, least with the Lesser Antilles.
Accepting these conclusions as to control over transit, we now revert to
that question to which all other inquiries are subsidiary, namely, Which
of the three bases of operations in the Caribbean—one of the Lesser
Antilles, Jamaica, or Cuba with its sphere of influence—is most powerful
for military control of the principal objective points in the same sea?
These principal objectives are Jamaica and the Isthmus; concerning the
relative importance of which it may be remarked that, while the Isthmus
intrinsically, and to the general interest of the world, is incomparably
the more valuable, the situation of Jamaica gives such command over all
the approaches to the Isthmus, as to make it in a military sense the
predominant factor in the control of the Caribbean. Jamaica is a
pre-eminent instance of central position, conferring the advantage of
interior lines, for action in every direction within the field to which
it belongs.
Military control depends chiefly upon two things, position and active
military strength. As equal military strength has been assumed
throughout, it is now necessary only to compare the positions held by
other states in the field with that of the occupant of Cuba. This
inquiry also is limited to the ability either to act offensively against
these objective points, or, on the contrary, to defend them if already
held by oneself or an ally; transit having been considered already.
Control by virtue of position, over a point external to your territory,
depends upon nearness in point of time and upon the absence of obstacles
capable of delaying or preventing your access to it.
Both Santiago (or Guantanamo) and Cienfuegos are nearer to the Isthmus
than is any other one of the first-class strategic points that have been
chosen on the _borders_ of the Caribbean Sea, including Samana Bay and
St. Thomas. They are little more than half the distance of the British
Santa Lucia and the French Martinique. The formidable island and
military stronghold of Jamaica, _within_ the sea, is nearer the Isthmus
than Guantanamo is, by one hundred and fifty miles, and than Cienfuegos
by yet more.
Taking into consideration situation only, Jamaica is admirably placed
for the control of the Caribbean. It is equidistant from Colon, from the
Yucatan Passage, and from the Mona Passage. It shares with Guantanamo
and Santiago control of the Windward Passage, and of that along the
south coast of Cuba; while, with but a slight stretching out of its arm,
it reaches the routes from the Gulf of Mexico to the Isthmus. Above all,
as towards Cuba, it so blocks the road to the Isthmus that any attempt
directed upon the Isthmus from Cuba must first have to account with the
military and naval forces of Jamaica.
There are, however, certain deductions to be made from the strength of
Jamaica that do not apply as forcibly to Cuba. Leaving to one side the
great and widely scattered colonial system of Great Britain, which
always throws that empire on the defensive and invites division of the
fleet, owing to the large number of points open to attack, and confining
our attention strictly to the field before us, it will be observed that
in a scheme of British operations Jamaica is essentially, as has been
said before, an advanced post; singularly well situated, it is true, but
still with long and difficult communications. Its distance from Antigua,
a possible intermediate base of supplies, is over nine hundred miles;
from Santa Lucia, the chief British naval station in the Lesser
Antilles, over one thousand miles, not less than three days’ economical
steaming. Great Britain, if at war with a state possessing Cuba, is shut
out from the Windward Passage by Guantanamo, and from the Gulf of Mexico
by Havana. The Mona Passage, also, though not necessarily closed, will
be too dangerous to be relied upon. For these reasons, in order to
maintain communications with Jamaica, an intermediate position and
depot, like Santa Lucia, will be urgently needed. Supplies coming from
Bermuda, Halifax, or England would probably have to be collected first
there, or at Antigua, and thence make a more secure, but still exposed,
voyage to Kingston. The north coasts of Cuba and Haiti must be looked
upon as practically under the control of the Cuban fleet, in consequence
of the command which it exercises over the Windward Passage, by virtue
of position.
The possessor of Cuba, on the contrary, by his situation has open
communication with the Gulf of Mexico, which amounts to saying that he
has all the resources of the United States at his disposal, through the
Mississippi Valley. Cruisers from Jamaica attempting to intercept that
trade would be at a great disadvantage, especially as to coal, compared
with their enemy resting upon Havana. Cruisers from Havana, reaching
their cruising ground with little or no consumption, can therefore
remain longer, and consequently are equivalent to a greater number of
ships. On the other hand, cruisers from Santiago could move almost with
impunity by the north side of Haiti as far as the Mona Passage, and
beyond that without any other risk than that of meeting and fighting
vessels of equal size. If they stretch their efforts toward the Anegada
Passage, they would feel the same disadvantage, relatively to cruisers
from Santa Lucia, that Jamaica cruisers in the Gulf would undergo as
compared with those from Havana; but by inclining their course more to
the northward, to or about the point Q (see map, page 101), they would
there be equidistant from Guantanamo and Santa Lucia, and so on an
equality with the latter, while at the same time in a position gravely
to endanger supplies from any point in North America. If it be replied
that Bermuda can take care of these cruisers at Q, the answer is plain:
on the supposition of equal forces, it can do so only by diminishing the
force at Santa Lucia. In short, when compared with Jamaica, in respect
of strategic relations to Bermuda, Halifax, and Santa Lucia, Cuba enjoys
the immense advantage of a central position, and of interior lines of
communication, with consequent concentration of force and effort.
It is not easy to see how, in the face of these difficulties, Great
Britain, in the supposed case of equal force in this theater of war,
could avoid dividing her fleet sufficiently to put Jamaica at a
disadvantage as to Cuba. In truth, Cuba here enjoys not only the other
advantages of situation already pointed out, but also that of being
central as regards the enemy’s positions; and what is, perhaps, even
more important, she possesses secure interior land lines of supply and
coal between the points of her base, while covering the sea lines in her
rear, in the Gulf of Mexico. For Guantanamo and Santiago have
communication by rail with Havana, while the island itself covers the
lines from Havana to the Gulf coast of the United States; whereas
Jamaica depends wholly upon the sea, by lines of communication not
nearly as well sheltered.
Contrasted with Cuba, Jamaica is seen to be, as has been more than once
said, a strong advanced post, thrust well forward into the face of an
enemy to which it is much inferior in size and resources, and therefore
dependent for existence upon its power of holding out, despite uncertain
and possibly suspended communication. Its case resembles that of
Minorca, Malta, Gibraltar, the endurance of which, when cut off from the
sea, has always been measurable. The question here before us, however,
is not that of mere holding out on the defensive, which would be
paralysis. If Cuba can reduce Jamaica to a passive defensive, Jamaica
disappears as a factor in the control of the Caribbean and Isthmus—no
obstacle then stands in the way of Cuba using her nearness to Panama. If
Cuba can bring about a scarcity of coal at Kingston she achieves a
strategic advantage; if a coal famine, the enemy’s battle fleet must
retire, probably to the Lesser Antilles.
The case of Jamaica, contrasted with Cuba, covers that of all strategic
points on the borders of the Caribbean Sea, east, west, north, or south.
Almost on the border itself, although within it, Jamaica has in
nearness, in situation, in size, and in resources, a decisive advantage
over any of the ports of Haiti or of the smaller islands. If Jamaica is
inferior to Cuba, then is each of the other points on the circumference,
and, it may be added, all of them together....
[It is shown that, while Santa Lucia is essential to Jamaica, the two
are too far apart to work together in concert. As for the Lesser
Antilles, they may be said to control the approaches from Europe, while
Cuba controls those from North America; but the Antilles are twice as
far from the Isthmus as Cuba is, and much weaker in resources.—EDITOR.]
As to resources, those of all the West India islands for war will depend
mainly upon the policy and preparation of the governments. Except Cuba,
they are deficient in natural resources adequately developed. Outside of
direct governmental action it can only be said that the much greater
population of Cuba will draw more supplies and furnish more material for
troops and garrisons. At present, as already noted, the resources of the
United States are in effect also the resources of Cuba.
As between the three possible bases for attempted control of the
Caribbean, no doubts can remain that Cuba is the most powerful, Jamaica
next, and the Antilles least. Jamaica being where it is, Cuba cannot put
forth her power against the Isthmus or against the lines of transit in
the Caribbean, until she has materially reduced, if not neutralized, the
offensive power of her smaller opponent. Upon the supposition of equal
fleets, if the Cuban fleet move against the Isthmus, or into the
Caribbean, it uncovers its communications; if it seeks to cover these,
it divides its force. Jamaica exactly meets the case supposed in a
previous chapter: “If, in moving upon the coveted objective you pass by
a strategic point held by the enemy, capable of sheltering his ships—a
point from which he may probably intercept your supplies of coal or
ammunition, the circle of influence of that point will require your
attention and reduce your force.”
In that case it was laid down that, if you cannot observe the port
without reducing your fleet below that of the enemy, you must not divide
it; either the intermediate point must be taken, or, if you think you
can accomplish your special aim with the supplies on board, you may cut
loose from your base, giving up your communications. Undoubtedly, the
same difficulty would be felt by the Jamaica fleet, if it moved away
from home leaving the Cuban fleet in port in Santiago or Guantanamo;
but, of the two, Jamaica has the inside track. It is not so with
operations based upon the Lesser Antilles only, and directed against the
Isthmus, or against any position in the western basin of the Caribbean,
Cuba being hostile; the line of communication in that case is so long as
to be a very serious comparative disadvantage.
Upon the whole, then, Jamaica, though less powerful than Cuba, seems to
deserve the title of the “key to the Caribbean.” Only when Cuba has
mastered it can she predominantly control the positions of that sea. But
if Jamaica in this sense be the key, Cuba has the grip that can wrest it
away. Secure as to her own communications, in the rear, towards the Gulf
of Mexico, Cuba has it in her power to impose upon her enemy a line so
long and insecure as to be finally untenable. First a scarcity of coal,
then a famine, lastly the retreat of the Jamaica fleet to the most
available coal station. Such is the solution I believe possible to the
military problem of the Caribbean as dependent upon geographical
conditions,—that is, upon positions; concerning which Napoleon has said
that “War is a business of positions.” The instant the Cuban fleet has
gained a decided superiority over that of Jamaica, it can take a
position covering at once the approaches to that island and the Windward
Channel, keeping all its own ships in hand while cutting off the enemy’s
supplies and reinforcements. The converse is not true of the Jamaica
fleet, in case it gains a momentary superiority, because the southern
ports of Cuba should be able to receive supplies by land, from the Gulf
of Mexico through Havana.
The general discussion of the strategic features of the Gulf of Mexico
and Caribbean ends here; but the treatment of the subject will not be
complete, unless there be some further specific consideration of the
bearing which the conclusions reached have upon the facilities of the
United States for naval action in the region studied.
[The political developments between 1887 and 1911 are here considered,
including the growth of the American Navy; the construction of the
Panama Canal; the acquisition by the United States of strategic points
along the line from Key West to Culebra Island, centering at Guantanamo
and “most effectual for military and naval action in the Caribbean;”
and, finally, our increased responsibilities arising from the growth of
the German Navy and the consequent limitation of England’s co-operation
in support of the Monroe Doctrine.—EDITOR.]
... The Caribbean Sea and the Isthmus of Panama furnish the student of
naval strategy with a very marked illustration of the necessity of such
cohesion and mutual support between military positions assumed; as well
as between those positions and the army in the field,—that is, the navy.
It affords therefore a subject of the first importance for such a
student to master, and that in fuller detail than is expedient for a
series of lectures, the object of which should be to suggest lines of
thought, rather than to attempt exhaustive treatment. For an American
naval officer, the intimate relation of the Isthmus and its coming canal
to the mutual support of the Atlantic and Pacific coasts renders the
subject doubly interesting. This interest is yet farther increased by
the consideration that the general international importance to commerce
of such a point as the Canal can scarcely fail to make the conditions of
its tenure and use a source of international difference and negotiation,
which often are war under another form; that is, the solution depends
upon military power, even though held in the background. There are
questions other than commercial dependent upon the tenure of the
Isthmus, of which I will not here speak explicitly. To appreciate them
fully there must be constant reading and reflection upon the general
topics of the day.
One thing is sure: in the Caribbean Sea is the strategic key to the two
great oceans, the Atlantic and Pacific, our own chief maritime
frontiers.
12. PRINCIPLES OF NAVAL ADMINISTRATION
_Opposing Elements_[34]
Administration being a term of very general application, it will be
expected that that of the navy should present close analogies, and even
points of identity, with other forms of administration; for instance,
that in it, as elsewhere, efficiency of result will be better secured by
individual responsibility than by collective responsibility. But, along
with general resemblance, naval administration is very clearly and
sharply differentiated by the presence of an element which is foreign to
almost all other activities of life in countries like Great Britain and
the United States. The military factor is to it not merely incidental,
but fundamental; whatever other result may be achieved, naval
administration has failed unless it provides to the nation an efficient
fighting body, directed by well-trained men, animated by a strong
military spirit. On the other hand, many of the operations connected
with it differ from those common to civil life only in a certain
particularity of method. This is true in principal measure of the
financial management, of the medical establishment, and to a
considerable though much smaller degree of the manufacturing processes
connected with the production of naval material. The business routine of
even the most military department of a naval administration is in itself
more akin to civil than to military life: but it by no means follows
that those departments would be better administered under men of civil
habits of thought than by those of military training. The method exists
for the result, and an efficient fighting body is not to be attained by
weakening the appreciation of military necessities at the very fountain
head of their supply in the administration. This necessary appreciation
can be the result only of personal experience of good and bad through
the formative period of life.
We find, therefore, at the very outset of our inquiry two fundamental
yet opposing elements, neither of which can be eliminated. Nor can they
be reconciled, in the sense of becoming sympathetic. In its proper
manifestation the jealousy between the civil and military spirits is a
healthy symptom. They can be made to work together harmoniously and
efficiently; to complement, not to antagonize each other; provided means
are taken to ensure to each its due relative precedence and weight in
the determination of practical questions.
Historically, the institution and development of naval administration
has been essentially a civil process, the object of which has been to
provide and keep in readiness a national weapon for war. The end is
war—fighting; the instrument is the navy; the means are the various
activities which we group under the head of administration. Of these
three, the end necessarily conditions the others. The proverb is
familiar, “He who wills the end wills the means.” Whatever is essential
to the spirit and organization of the navy afloat, to its efficiency for
war, must find itself adequately represented in the administration, in
order that the exigencies of fighting may be kept well to the front in
governmental and national consideration. Since armies and navies have
existed as permanent national institutions, there has been a constant
struggle on the part of the military element to keep the end—fighting,
or readiness to fight—superior to mere administrative considerations.
This is but natural, for all men tend to magnify their office. The
military man having to do the fighting, considers that the chief
necessity; the administrator equally naturally tends to think the smooth
running of the machine the most admirable quality. Both are necessary;
but the latter cannot obtain under the high pressure of war unless in
peace the contingency of war has dictated its system. There is a quaint,
well-worn story, which yet may be new to some readers, of an
administrator who complained that his office was working admirably until
war came and threw everything out of gear.
The opposition between civil and military, necessitating their due
adjustment, may be said to be original, of the nature of things. It is
born with naval administration. Corresponding roughly to these primary
factors are the two principal activities in which administration is
exerted—organization and execution. These also bear to each other the
relation of means to end. Organization is not for itself, but is a means
to an ultimate executive action; in the case of a navy, to war or to the
prevention of war. It is, therefore, in its end—war—that organization
must find the conditions dictating its character. Whatever the system
adopted, it must aim above all at perfect efficiency in military action;
and the nearer it approaches to this ideal the better it is. It would
seem that this is too obvious for mention. It may be for mention; but
not for reiteration. The long record of naval history on the side of
administration shows a constant predominance of other considerations,
and the abiding necessity for insisting, in season and out of season,
that the one test of naval administration is not the satisfactory or
economical working of the office, as such, but the readiness of the navy
in all points for war. The one does not exclude the other; but there is
between them the relation of greater and less.
Both organization and execution are properties alike of the active navy,
the instrument for war, and of the naval administration, the means which
has been constituted to create and maintain the instrument; but from
their respective spheres, and in proportion to their relative nearness
to the great final end of war, the one or the other characteristic is
found predominant. The naval officer on board his ship, face to face
with the difficulties of the profession, and in daily contact with the
grim implements which remind him of the eventualities of his calling,
naturally sees in organization mainly a means to an end. Some indeed
fall short. The martinet is a man to whom the organization is more than
a means; but he is the exception. Naval administration, on the other
hand, in the common acceptation of the term, is mostly office work. It
comes into contact with the navy proper chiefly through official
correspondence, less by personal intercourse with the officers
concerned; still less by immediate contact with the daily life of the
profession, which it learns at second hand. It consequently tends to
overvalue the orderly routine and observance of the system by which it
receives information, transmits orders, checks expenditure, files
returns, and, in general, keeps with the service the touch of paper; in
short, the organization which has been created for facilitating its own
labors. In due measure these are imperatively necessary; but it is
undeniable that the practical tendency is to exaggerate their importance
relatively to the executive end proposed. The writer was once visiting a
French captain, who in the course of the interview took up wearily a
mass of papers from a desk beside him. “I wonder,” said he, “whether all
this is as bad with you as with us. Look at our Navy Register;” and
dividing the pages into two parts, severally about one-sixth and
five-sixths of the whole, he continued, “This, the smaller, is the Navy;
and that is the Administration.” No wonder he had papers galore;
administration needs papers, as a mill needs grist.
Even in the case of naval officers entering administrative offices, the
influence of prolonged tenure is in the same direction. The habits of a
previous lifetime doubtless act as a check, in proportion to the
strength they have acquired in the individual. They serve as an
invaluable leaven, not only to his own thought but to that of his
associates. Nevertheless, the experience is general that permanence in
an office essentially civil tends to deaden the intimate appreciation of
naval exigencies; yet upon this alone can thrive that sympathy between
the administrative and executive functions of the navy which is
requisite to efficiency. The habit of the arm-chair easily prevails over
that of the quarterdeck; it is more comfortable. For this reason, in the
best-considered systems, a frequent exchange between the civil and
military parts of their profession, between the administrative offices
and the army or fleet, is thought expedient for officers who show
aptitude for the former. It is better for them personally, better for
the administration, and consequently better for the service at large. It
prevails extensively in the United States Navy, where it is frequently
the subject of ill-instructed outside criticism on the score of
sea-officers being on “shore duty.” Without asserting that the exact
proportions of service are always accurately observed, it may be
confidently affirmed that the interchange between the civil and military
occupations tends to facilitate the smooth working of both, by promoting
mutual understanding of conditions and difficulties.
_The British System_[35]
[From 1660 to 1832, British naval administration was divided between a
civilian “Navy Board” and a military “Board of Admiralty.”—EDITOR.]
Divided control means divided responsibility; and that in turn means no
responsibility, or at least one very hard to fix. The abuses that grew
up, especially in the dockyards, the effect of which of course was
transmitted to the navy that depended upon them, led to a loud outcry
throughout the service towards the end of the eighteenth century; but
horses are not swapped when crossing streams, and the exigencies of the
great wars which ended in 1815 made it long impossible to attempt the
revolutionary change needed. This was carried out in 1832 by the
Government which came in with the Reform Bill of 1830. The spirit of the
innovation was summarized in the expression, “Individual (undivided)
Responsibility.” The Navy Board disappeared altogether. The civil
functions which in the process of centuries had accumulated in its
hands, and had culminated by successive additions into a very numerous
and loose aggregation of officials, were concentrated into five heads,
having separate and independent responsibilities; in this resembling the
chiefs of bureau in the United States Naval Administration. Each of the
five was specifically under one of the members of the Admiralty Board,
who thus represented that particular interest of the Navy in the Board
regarded as a consultative body. Admiral Sir Vesey Hamilton writes:
“This was a consolidation of functions and a subordination of the civil
branches to the Admiralty as a whole ... under the Board of Admiralty
collectively and under the Lords individually.” While the First Lord is
a civilian, the majority of the other members of the Admiralty are naval
officers. Authority, therefore, is in civil hands, while military
influence enters strongly.
While I highly appreciate the value of this latter factor, particularly
as the sea lords do not consequently give up their profession, but
remain actively connected with it, it appears to my observation of human
nature that the system has some of the disadvantages of a council of
war, tending to make responsibility elusive. I question, in short, the
entire soundness of a scheme which by its nature, if not by specific
provision, inclines to place executive action in the hands of a
consultative body. It seems to sap individual responsibility; not
perhaps in subordinates, but, what is much worse, in the head, in the
commander-in-chief of the administration, upon whom depend the great
determinative lines of provision and of policy. In conception, the
Admiralty is primarily a Board, secondarily individual members. For
individual responsibility at the head, too much depends upon the
personality of the First Lord, too little upon his position. Since these
lines were first written, five years ago, it may fairly be inferred,
from the language of the English Press, that very decisive changes of
policy have been adopted which are attributed popularly, and even
professionally, to the dominating influence of one of the “Sea” Lords.
During a brief period in 1827, as two centuries before, an arrangement
more formally ideal obtained. The Duke of Clarence, afterwards William
IV, being appointed Lord High Admiral, the Admiralty Board lapsed as a
board and became his council. The modification here made in deference to
royal blood might well serve as a model for naval administration; a head
with advisers feels responsibility more than a head with associates. It
should go without saying that in any case the head must be good.
In the United States Naval Administration the head is one man, with no
division of responsibility. His own superior, the President, may control
his action, as may Congress by law; but this, as far as it goes, is
simply a transfer of responsibility in its entirety. It is not a
division. The Secretary of the Navy has no associates, but he has
subordinates. In them he has capable advisers, so far as he chooses to
use them; but he can transfer to them no responsibility, except that of
doing as he tells them. The responsibility of decision is his alone. The
law constitutes them subordinate executive officers, just as it
constitutes a lieutenant in the navy; but it does not constitute them
advisers, and there is in their position nothing which compels the
Secretary to hear their advice, still less to accept it. Each is
independent of the others, and there is nothing in law to compel
conference between them. The Secretary may assemble them, or any number
of them, as a board for consultation, in his presence or otherwise; but
there is nothing in the system which obliges him to do so. Unity of
action between several naval technical experts, each of whom is
represented in the planning and maintenance of every naval vessel, and
some in every element of naval military efficiency, depends entirely
upon the co-ordinating force of the Secretary, who is a civilian,
possibly with only more or less outside knowledge of the subject. The
system provides no strictly professional unifying force, such as the
Board of Admiralty, which has a numerical preponderance of combatant
sea-officers, each of whom has in individual control one or more of the
technical administrative departments, and may be supposed therefore to
be fully informed of its arguments in any technical matter under
discussion. The constitution of the Admiralty Board also ensures that
all technical details and their effect upon naval efficiency shall be
scrutinized from the point of view of the men who shall do the work of
war. The American plan fixes the very strictest individual
responsibility in the Secretary, and in his principal subordinates, the
chiefs of bureau. His duties are universal and supreme, theirs sharply
defined and mutually independent. This result appears to me superior to
the British, but it has the defects of its qualities; not too much
independence in responsibility, but, so far as the system goes, too
little co-ordination. As I said of the responsibility of the First Lord,
unity of action depends too much on the personality of the Secretary.
_The United States System_[36]
The United States system of naval administration has progressed
successively, and without breach of legislative continuity, from the
simple rudimentary organ, the one man, in whom all functions as well as
all responsibility were centered, through the phase of a complex organ
with aggregate functions and responsibilities, defined, but still
undifferentiated, into an organization elaborate in form, if not final
in development. The process has been from first to last consistent in
principle. The sole control and single responsibility of the
Secretary—the representative of the President—have been preserved
throughout, and all other responsibility is, and has been, not only
subordinate to him but derivative from him, as a branch derives its
being from the root. Moreover, consistency has also been maintained in
restricting the administration thus evolved to the civil function which
it essentially is. From the first departure, in the institution of the
Board of Commissioners, to the present time, it has not had military
authority properly so-called. It has had necessary authority in matters
pertaining to a military establishment, but it has had no direction of
activities in themselves essentially military; that has remained with
the Secretary, and is by him transferred only to officers properly
military in function. Finally, the principle of particular
responsibility has been strictly followed. Within the limits of the duty
assigned, the corporate responsibility of the Board in its day was, and
the individual responsibility of each bureau chief now is, as certain
and defined as that of the Secretary.
The defect of the system is that no means is provided for co-ordinating
the action of the bureaus,[37] except the single authority of the
Secretary. This, in his beginning days of inexperience, together with
his preoccupations with the numerous collateral engagements attendant
upon all positions of public responsibility, will most usually be
inadequate to the task. To indicate a defect is not to prescribe a
remedy; and the purpose of this article is to show things as they are,
not to advocate particular changes. One of the ablest administrative
sea-officers, both afloat and ashore, that I have known in my
professional career, stated before a Congressional committee that he had
“always believed it would be wise to have a board of five officers for
the purpose of harmonizing difficulties between bureaus, settling upon a
ship-building policy, and other matters that embarrass the head of the
Department on account of a lack of professional knowledge.” I do not
undertake to pass an opinion upon this particular suggestion, but
confine myself to remarking that the fault in the system certainly
exists, and that any remedy requires the careful observance of two
points: 1, that the adviser, one or a board, be wholly clear of
administrative activity; and, 2, that he or they be advisers only, pure
and simple, with no power to affect the individual responsibility of
decision. This must be preserved under whatever method, as the
Secretary’s privilege as well as his obligation.
13. THE MILITARY RULE OF OBEDIENCE[38]
It may be asserted, as perhaps the most tenable general definition of
the principle upon which the rule of obedience rests, that the spirit of
obedience, as distinguished from its letter, consists in faithfully
forwarding the general object to which the officer’s particular command
is contributing. This finds expression in the well-known directive
maxim, “March to the sound of the guns.” In doubtful cases, however,—and
by doubtful I mean cases where action other than that prescribed in the
orders seems expedient,—liberty of judgment is conditioned by the
officer’s acquaintance with the plans of his superior. If his knowledge
is imperfect, or altogether lacking, the doing that which at the moment
seems wise to himself may be to defeat a much more important object, or
to dissolve the bonds of a combined movement to which his co-operation
is essential. If, under such circumstances of ignorance, resting only
upon his own sagacity or surmises, he errs either in his reading of his
commander’s general purpose, or in his decision as to his own action,
and through such error disobeys, he cannot complain if he receive
censure or punishment. He has violated a recognized rule without
adequate reason. The rectitude of his intentions may clear him of moral
blame, though not necessarily even so; for the duty of obedience is not
merely military, but moral. It is not an arbitrary rule, but one
essential and fundamental; the expression of a principle without which
military organization would go to pieces, and military success be
impossible. Consequently, even where the individual purpose may be
demonstrably honest, not willful, blame adheres and punishment may
follow, according to the measure of the delinquency, though that be due
to nothing worse than personal incompetency....
No man wrestled with the question more vigorously than Nelson; none
found greater exasperation than he did in the too often successful
opposition of the letter to the demands of his impetuous spirit for
co-operation, addressed to men over whom he had not immediate control;
none was more generous in his attitude to subordinates who overrode or
overpassed his own orders, provided he saw in their acts the intelligent
and honest will to forward his purposes. Obedience he certainly
required; but he recognized that, given a capable and zealous man,
better work would usually be had by permitting a certain elasticity of
initiative, provided it was accompanied by accurate knowledge of his
general wishes. These he was always most careful to impart; in nothing
was he more precise or particular. If he allowed large liberty in the
letter, he expected close observance of, nay, rather, participation in,
the spirit of his ideas. He was not tolerant of incapacity, nor would he
for a moment bear willful disregard of his plans. When considerations of
high policy entertained by himself were crossed by Sidney Smith, his
language became peremptory. “_As this is in strict opposition to my
opinion_, which is _never to suffer any one individual Frenchman to quit
Egypt, I strictly charge and command you_ never to give any French ship
or man leave to quit Egypt.” The italics are his own; and he adds again,
as though distrustful still: “You are to put my orders in force, not on
any pretense to permit a single Frenchman to leave Egypt.” The severity
of the tone sufficiently proves his disposition to enforce the strictest
rule, where necessary to control individuals; but a more liberal
reliance upon principle, in preference to rule, was his habit. None, it
may be added, illustrated more copiously than he, when a junior, the
obedience of the spirit and the disobedience of the letter. His practice
was in this consistent in all stages of his career. Unfortunately, the
example may tempt smaller men to follow where their heads are not steady
enough to keep their feet.
Of course, thinking and feeling thus, he gave frequent expression to his
views, and these, coming from a man of his military genius, are often
very illuminative. There is one such that is singularly applicable to
our present purpose, of searching for the underlying principle which
governs the duty and observance of obedience, and determines its
absolute necessity to all military action. “I find few think as I do,
but to obey orders is all perfection. What would my superiors direct,
did they know what is passing under my nose? To serve my King and to
destroy the French I consider as the great order of all, from which
little ones spring, and if one of these little ones militate against it,
I go back to obey the great order.”
14. PREPAREDNESS FOR NAVAL WAR[39]
Preparation for war, rightly understood, A falls under two
heads,—preparation and preparedness. The one is a question mainly of
material, and is constant in its action. The second involves an idea of
completeness. When, at a particular moment, preparations are completed,
one is prepared—not otherwise. There may have been made a great deal of
very necessary preparation for war without being prepared. Every
constituent of preparation may be behindhand, or some elements may be
perfectly ready, while others are not. In neither case can a state be
said to be prepared.
In the matter of preparation for war, one clear idea should be absorbed
first by every one who, recognizing that war is still a possibility,
desires to see his country ready. This idea is that, however defensive
in origin or in political character a war may be, the assumption of a
simple defensive in war is ruin. War, once declared, must be waged
offensively, aggressively. The enemy must not be fended off, but smitten
down. You may then spare him every exaction, relinquish every gain; but
till down he must be struck incessantly and remorselessly.
Preparation, like most other things, is a question both of kind and of
degree, of quality and of quantity. As regards degree, the general lines
upon which it is determined have been indicated broadly in the preceding
part of this article. The measure of degree is the estimated force which
the strongest probable enemy can bring against you, allowance being made
for clear drawbacks upon his total force, imposed by his own
embarrassments and responsibilities in other parts of the world. The
calculation is partly military, partly political, the latter, however,
being the dominant factor in the premises.
In kind, preparation is twofold,—defensive and offensive. The former
exists chiefly for the sake of the latter, in order that offense, the
determining factor in war, may put forth its full power, unhampered by
concern for the protection of the national interests or for its own
resources. In naval war, coast defense is the defensive factor, the navy
the offensive. Coast defense, when adequate, assures the naval
commander-in-chief that his base of operations—the dockyards and coal
depots—is secure. It also relieves him and his government, by the
protection afforded to the chief commercial centers, from the necessity
of considering them, and so leaves the offensive arm perfectly free.
Coast defense implies coast attack. To what attacks are coast liable?
Two, principally,—blockade and bombardment. The latter, being the more
difficult, includes the former, as the greater does the lesser. A fleet
that can bombard can still more easily blockade. Against bombardment the
necessary precaution is gun-fire, of such power and range that a fleet
cannot lie within bombarding distance. This condition is obtained, where
surroundings permit, by advancing the line of guns so far from the city
involved that bombarding distance can be reached only by coming under
their fire. But it has been demonstrated, and is accepted, that, owing
to their rapidity of movement,—like a flock of birds on the wing,—a
fleet of ships can, without disabling loss, pass by guns before which
they could not lie. Hence arises the necessity of arresting or delaying
their progress by blocking channels, which in modern practice is done by
lines of torpedoes. The mere moral effect of the latter is a deterrent
to a dash past,—by which, if successful, a fleet reaches the rear of the
defenses, and appears immediately before the city, which then lies at
its mercy.
Coast defense, then, implies gun power and torpedo lines placed as
described. Be it said in passing that only places of decisive
importance, commercially or militarily, need such defenses. Modern
fleets cannot afford to waste ammunition in bombarding unimportant
towns,—at least when so far from their own base as they would be on our
coast. It is not so much a question of money as of frittering their
fighting strength. It would not pay.
Even coast defense, however, although essentially passive, should have
an element of offensive force, local in character, distinct from the
offensive navy, of which nevertheless it forms a part. To take the
offensive against a floating force it must itself be afloat—naval. This
offensive element of coast defense is to be found in the torpedo-boat,
in its various developments. It must be kept distinct in idea from the
sea-going fleet, although it is, of course, possible that the two may
act in concert. The war very well may take such a turn that the
sea-going navy will find, its best preparation for initiating an
offensive movement to be by concentrating in a principal seaport.
Failing such a contingency, however, and in and for coast defense in its
narrower sense, there should be a local flotilla of small
torpedo-vessels, which by their activity should make life a burden to an
outside enemy. A distinguished British admiral, now dead, has said that
he believed half the captains of a blockading fleet would break down—“go
crazy” were the words repeated to me—under the strain of modern
conditions. The expression, of course, was intended simply to convey a
sense of the immensity of suspense to be endured. In such a flotilla,
owing to the smallness of its components, and to the simplicity of their
organization and functions, is to be found the best sphere for naval
volunteers; the duties could be learned with comparative ease, and the
whole system is susceptible of rapid development. Be it remembered,
however, that it is essentially defensive, only incidentally offensive,
in character.
Such are the main elements of coast defense—guns, lines of torpedoes,
torpedo-boats. Of these none can be extemporized, with the possible
exception of the last, and that would be only a makeshift. To go into
details would exceed the limits of an article,—require a brief treatise.
Suffice it to say, without the first two, coast cities are open to
bombardment; without the last, they can be blockaded freely, unless
relieved by the sea-going navy. Bombardment and blockade are recognized
modes of warfare, subject only to reasonable notification,—a concession
rather to humanity and equity than to strict law.[40] Bombardment and
blockade directed against great national centers, in the close and
complicated network of national and commercial interests as they exist
in modern times, strike not only the point affected, but every corner of
the land.
The offensive in naval war, as has been said, is the function of the
sea-going navy—of the battleships, and of the cruisers of various sizes
and purposes, including sea-going torpedo-vessels capable of
accompanying a fleet, without impeding its movements by their loss of
speed or unseaworthiness. Seaworthiness, and reasonable speed under all
weather conditions, are qualities necessary to every constituent of a
fleet; but, over and above these, the backbone and real power of any
navy are the vessels which, by due proportion of defensive and offensive
powers, are capable of taking and giving hard knocks. All others are but
subservient to these, and exist only for them.
What is that strength to be? Ships answering to this description are the
_kind_ which make naval strength; what is to be its _degree_? What their
number? The answer—a broad formula—is that it must be great enough to
take the sea, and to fight, with reasonable chances of success, the
largest force likely to be brought against it, as shown by calculations
which have been indicated previously. Being, as we claim, and as our
past history justifies us in claiming, a nation indisposed to
aggression, unwilling to extend our possessions or our interests by war,
the measure of strength we set ourselves depends, necessarily, not upon
our projects of aggrandizement, but upon the disposition of others to
thwart what we consider our reasonable policy, which they may not so
consider. When they resist, what force can they bring against us? That
force must be naval; we have no exposed point upon which land
operations, decisive in character, can be directed. This is the kind of
the hostile force to be apprehended. What may its size be? There is the
measure of our needed strength. The calculation may be intricate, the
conclusion only approximate and probable, but it is the nearest reply we
can reach. So many ships of such and such sizes, so many guns, so much
ammunition—in short, so much naval material.
In the material provisions that have been summarized under the two chief
heads of defense and offense—in coast defense under its three principal
requirements, guns, lines of stationary torpedoes, and torpedo-boats,
and in a navy able to keep the sea in the presence of a probable
enemy—consist what may be called most accurately preparations for war.
In so far as the United States is short in them, she is at the mercy of
an enemy whose naval strength is greater than that of her own available
navy. If her navy cannot keep the enemy off the coast, blockade at least
is possible. If, in addition, there are no harbor torpedo-boats,
blockade is easy. If, further, guns and torpedo lines are deficient,
bombardment comes within the range of possibility, and may reach even
the point of entire feasibility. There will be no time for preparation
after war begins.
[The remainder of the essay considers the vital problem of supplying the
navy with trained men, both in active service and in reserve. It is
pointed out that, of the two systems, compulsory enlistments for short
service and voluntary enlistments for long service, the second system,
which is the one employed by the United States, produces fewer though
better trained reserves; and it therefore necessitates a larger standing
force.—EDITOR.]
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.
Owing to the lightness of the wind Nelson would lose no time in
maneuvering. He formed his fleet rapidly in two divisions, each in
single column, the simplest and most flexible order of attack, and the
one whose regularity is most easily preserved. The simple column,
however, unflanked, sacrifices during the critical period of closing the
support given by the rear ships to the leader, and draws upon the latter
the concentrated fire of the enemy’s line. Its use by Nelson on this
occasion has been much criticized. It is therefore to be remarked that,
although his orders, issued several days previous to the battle, are
somewhat ambiguous on this point, their natural meaning seems to
indicate the intention, if attacking from to windward, to draw up with
his fleet in two columns parallel to the enemy and abreast his rear.
Then the column nearest the enemy, the lee, keeping away together, would
advance in line against the twelve rear ships; while the weather column,
moving forward, would hold in check the remainder of the hostile fleet.
In either event, whether attacking in column or in line, the essential
feature of his plan was to overpower twelve of the enemy by sixteen
British, while the remainder of his force covered this operation. The
destruction of the rear was entrusted to the second in command; he
himself with a smaller body took charge of the more uncertain duties of
the containing force. “The second in command,” wrote he in his memorable
order, “will, after my instructions are made known to him, have the
entire direction of his line.”
The justification of Nelson’s dispositions for battle at Trafalgar rests
therefore primarily upon the sluggish breeze, which would so have
delayed formations as to risk the loss of the opportunity. It must also
be observed that, although a column of ships does not possess the
sustained momentum of a column of men, whose depth and mass combine to
drive it through the relatively thin resistance of a line, and so cut
the latter in twain, the results nevertheless are closely analogous. The
leaders in either case are sacrificed,—success is won over their
prostrate forms; but the continued impact upon one part of the enemy’s
order is essentially a concentration, the issue of which, if long enough
maintained, cannot be doubtful. Penetration, severance, and the
enveloping of one of the parted fragments, must be the result. So,
exactly, it was at Trafalgar. It must also be noted that the rear ships
of either column, until they reached the hostile line, swept with their
broadsides the sea over which enemy’s ships from either flank might try
to come to the support of the attacked center. No such attempt was in
fact made from either extremity of the combined fleet.
The two British columns were nearly a mile apart and advanced on
parallel courses,—heading nearly east, but a little to the northward to
allow for the gradual advance in that direction of the hostile fleet.
The northern or left-hand column, commonly called the “weather line”
because the wind came rather from that side, contained twelve ships, and
was led by Nelson himself in the _Victory_, a ship of one hundred guns.
The _Royal Sovereign_, of the same size and carrying Collingwood’s flag,
headed the right column, of fifteen ships.
To the British advance the allies opposed the traditional order of
battle, a long single line, close-hauled,—in this case heading north,
with the wind from west-north-west. The distance from one flank to the
other was nearly five miles. Owing partly to the lightness of the
breeze, partly to the great number of ships, and partly to the
inefficiency of many of the units of the fleet, the line was very
imperfectly formed. Ships were not in their places, intervals were of
irregular width, here vessels were not closed up, there two overlapped,
one masking the other’s fire. The general result was that, instead of a
line, the allied order showed a curve of gradual sweep, convex toward
the east. To the British approach from the west, therefore, it presented
a disposition resembling a re-entrant angle; and Collingwood, noting
with observant eye the advantage of this arrangement for a cross-fire,
commented favorably upon it in his report of the battle. It was,
however, the result of chance, not of intention,—due, not to the talent
of the chief, but to the want of skill in his subordinates.
[Illustration:
THE ATTACK AT TRAFALGAR
OCTOBER 21, 1805
5 minutes past noon
The French and Spanish ships marked + were taken or destroyed in the
action.
REFERENCES
A. Santa Ana, Alava’s Flagship
B. Bucentaure, Villeneuve’s Flagship
P. Principe De Asturias, Gravina’s Flagship
R. Redoutable
S. Royal Sovereign, Collingwood’s Flagship
T. Santisima Trinidad
V. Victory, Nelson’s Flagship
Recent investigation has shown that Collingwood’s division was much
more nearly parallel to the enemy than is indicated in this diagram,
and thus in a formation more closely resembling Nelson’s original
plan.—_Editor._
]
The commander-in-chief of the allies, Villeneuve, was in the
_Bucentaure_, an eighty-gun ship, the twelfth in order from the van of
the line. Immediately ahead of him was the huge Spanish four-decker, the
_Santisima Trinidad_, a Goliath among ships, which had now come forth to
her last battle. Sixth behind the _Bucentaure_, and therefore eighteenth
in the order, came a Spanish three-decker, the _Santa Ana_, flying the
flag of Vice-Admiral Alava. These two admirals marked the right and left
of the allied center, and upon them, therefore, the British leaders
respectively directed their course,—Nelson upon the _Bucentaure_,
Collingwood upon the _Santa Ana_.
The _Royal Sovereign_ had recently been refitted, and with clean new
copper easily outsailed her more worn followers. Thus it happened that,
as Collingwood came within range, his ship, outstripping the others by
three quarters of a mile, entered alone, and for twenty minutes endured,
unsupported, the fire of all the hostile ships that could reach her. A
proud deed, surely, but surely also not a deed to be commended as a
pattern. The first shot of the battle was fired at her by the
_Fougueux_, the next astern of the _Santa Ana_. This was just at noon,
and with the opening guns the ships of both fleets hoisted their
ensigns; the Spaniards also hanging large wooden crosses from their
spanker booms.
The _Royal Sovereign_ advanced in silence until, ten minutes later, she
passed close under the stern of the _Santa Ana_. Then she fired a
double-shotted broadside which struck down four hundred of the enemy’s
crew, and, luffing rapidly, took her position close alongside, the
muzzles of the hostile guns nearly touching. Here the _Royal Sovereign_
underwent the fire not only of her chief antagonist, but of four other
ships; three of which belonged to the division of five that ought
closely to have knit the _Santa Ana_ to the _Bucentaure_, and so fixed
an impassable barrier to the enemy seeking to pierce the center. The
fact shows strikingly the looseness of the allied order, these three
being all in rear and to leeward of their proper stations.
For fifteen minutes the _Royal Sovereign_ was the only British ship in
close action. Then her next astern entered the battle, followed
successively by the rest of the column. In rear of the _Santa Ana_ were
fifteen ships. Among these, Collingwood’s vessels penetrated in various
directions; chiefly, however, at first near the spot where his flag had
led the way, enveloping and destroying in detail the enemy’s center and
leading rear ships, and then passing on to subdue the rest. Much
doubtless was determined by chance in such confusion and obscurity; but
the original tactical plan ensured an ever-whelming concentration upon a
limited portion of the enemy’s order. This being subdued with the less
loss, because so outnumbered, the intelligence and skill of the various
British captains readily compassed the destruction of the dwindling
remnant. Of the sixteen ships, including the _Santa Ana_, which composed
the allied rear, twelve were taken or destroyed.
Not till one o’clock, or nearly half an hour after the vessels next
following Collingwood came into action, did the _Victory_ reach the
_Bucentaure_. The latter was raked with the same dire results that
befell the _Santa Ana_; but a ship close to leeward blocked the way, and
Nelson was not able to grapple with the enemy’s commander-in-chief. The
_Victory_, prevented from going through the line, fell on board the
_Redoutable_, a French seventy-four, between which and herself a furious
action followed,—the two lying in close contact. At half-past one Nelson
fell mortally wounded, the battle still raging fiercely.
The ship immediately following Nelson’s came also into collision
with the _Redoutable_, which thus found herself in combat with two
antagonists. The next three of the British weather column each in
succession raked the _Bucentaure_, complying thus with Nelson’s
order that every effort must be made to capture the enemy’s
commander-in-chief. Passing on, these three concentrated their
efforts, first upon the _Bucentaure_, and next upon the _Santisima
Trinidad_. Thus it happened that upon the allied commander-in-chief,
upon his next ahead, and upon the ship which, though not his natural
supporter astern, had sought and filled that honorable post,—upon
the key, in short, of the allied order,—were combined under the most
advantageous conditions the fires of five hostile vessels, three of
them first-rates. Consequently, not only were the three added to the
prizes, but also a great breach was made between the van and rear of
the combined fleets. This breach became yet wider by the singular
conduct of Villeneuve’s proper next astern. Soon after the _Victory_
came into action, that ship bore up out of the line, wore round, and
stood toward the rear, followed by three others. This movement is
attributed to a wish to succor the rear. If so, it was at best an
indiscreet and ill-timed act, which finds little palliation in the
fact that not one of these ships was taken.
Thus, two hours after the battle began, the allied fleet was cut in two,
the rear enveloped and in process of being destroyed in detail, the
_Bucentaure_, _Santisima Trinidad_, and _Redoutable_ practically
reduced, though not yet surrendered. Ahead of the _Santisima Trinidad_
were ten ships, which as yet had not been engaged. The inaction of the
van, though partly accounted for by the slackness of the wind, has given
just cause for censure. To it, at ten minutes before two, Villeneuve
made signal to get into action and to wear together. This was
accomplished with difficulty, owing to the heavy swell and want of wind.
At three, however, all the ships were about, but by an extraordinary
fatality they did not keep together. Five with Admiral Dumanoir stood
along to windward of the battle, three passed to leeward of it, and two,
keeping away, left the field entirely. Of the whole number, three were
intercepted, raising the loss of the allies to eighteen
ships-of-the-line taken, one of which caught fire and was burned. The
approach of Admiral Dumanoir, if made an hour earlier, might have
conduced to save Villeneuve; it was now too late. Exchanging a few
distant broadsides with enemy’s ships, he stood off to the south-west
with four vessels; one of those at first with him having been cut off.
At quarter before five Admiral Gravina, whose ship had been the rear of
the order during the battle and had lost heavily, retreated toward
Cadiz, making signal to the vessels which had not struck to form around
his flag. Five other Spanish ships and five French followed him. As he
was withdrawing, the last two to resist of the allied fleet struck their
colors.
During the night of the 21st these eleven ships anchored at the mouth of
Cadiz harbor, which they could not then enter, on account of a land wind
from south-east. At the same time the British and their prizes were
being carried shoreward by the heavy swell which had prevailed during
the battle; the light air blowing from the sea not enabling them to haul
off. The situation was one of imminent peril. At midnight the wind
freshened much, but fortunately hauled to the southward, whence it blew
a gale all the 22d. The ships got their heads to the westward and drew
off shore, with thirteen of the prizes; the other four having had to
anchor off Cape Trafalgar. That morning the _Bucentaure_, Villeneuve’s
late flagship, was wrecked on some rocks off the entrance to Cadiz; and
toward evening the _Redoutable_, that had so nobly supported her, was
found to be sinking astern of the British ship that had her in tow.
During the night of the 22d she went down with a hundred and fifty of
her people still on board. On the 24th the same fate befell the great
_Santisima Trinidad_, which had been the French admiral’s next ahead.
Thus his own ship and his two supports vanished from the seas.
For several days the wind continued violent from north-west and
south-west. On the 23d five of the ships that had escaped with Gravina
put out, to cut off some of the prizes that were near the coast. They
succeeded in taking two; but as these were battered to pieces, while
three of the five rescuers were carried on the beach and wrecked with
great loss of life, little advantage resulted from this well-meant and
gallant sortie. Two other prizes were given up to their own crews by the
British prize-masters, because the latter were not able with their
scanty force to save them. These got into Cadiz. Of the remaining
British prizes, all but four either went ashore or were destroyed by the
orders of Collingwood, who despaired of saving them. No British ship was
lost.
Of thirty-three combined French and Spanish ships which sailed out of
Cadiz on the 20th of October, eleven, five French and six Spanish,
mostly now disabled hulks, lay there at anchor on the last day of the
month. The four that escaped to sea under Dumanoir fell in with a
British squadron of the same size near Cape Ortegal, on the 4th of
November, and were all taken. This raised the allied loss to
twenty-two,—two more than the twenty for which Nelson, in his dying
hour, declared that he had bargained.
No attempt to move from Cadiz was again made by the shattered relics of
the fight. On the 25th of October Rosily arrived and took up his now
blasted command. Nearly three years later, when the Spanish monarchy, so
long the submissive tool of the Directory and of Napoleon, had been
overthrown by the latter, and the Spanish people had risen against the
usurper, the five French ships were still in the port. Surprised between
the British blockade and the now hostile batteries of the coast, Rosily,
after an engagement of two days with the latter, surrendered his
squadron, with the four thousand seamen then on board. This event
occurred on the 14th of June, 1808. It was the last echo of Trafalgar.
Such, in its leading outlines and direct consequences, was the famous
battle of Trafalgar. Its lasting significance and far-reaching results
have been well stated by a recent historian, more keenly alive than most
of his fellows to the paramount, though silent, influence of Sea Power
upon the course of events: “Trafalgar was not only the greatest naval
victory, it was the greatest and most momentous victory won either by
land or by sea during the whole of the Revolutionary War. No victory,
and no series of victories, of Napoleon produced the same effect upon
Europe.... A generation passed after Trafalgar before France again
seriously threatened England at sea. The prospect of crushing the
British navy, so long as England had the means to equip a navy,
vanished. Napoleon henceforth set his hopes on exhausting England’s
resources, by compelling every state on the Continent to exclude her
commerce. Trafalgar forced him to impose his yoke upon _all_ Europe, or
to abandon the hope of conquering Great Britain.... Nelson’s last
triumph left England in such a position that no means remained to injure
her but those which _must result in the ultimate deliverance of the
Continent_.”[85]
These words may be accepted with very slight modification. Napoleon’s
scheme for the invasion of Great Britain, thwarted once and again by the
strategic difficulties attendant upon its execution, was finally
frustrated when Villeneuve gave up the attempt to reach Brest and headed
for Cadiz. On the part of the allies Trafalgar was, in itself, a useless
holocaust, precipitated in the end by the despair of the unfortunate
admiral, upon whose irresolution Napoleon not unjustly visited the anger
caused by the wreck of his plans. Villeneuve was perfectly clear-sighted
and right in his appreciation of the deficiencies of his command,—of the
many chances against success. Where he wretchedly failed was in not
recognizing the simple duty of obedience,—the obligation to persist at
all hazards in the part of a great scheme assigned to him, even though
it led to the destruction of his whole force. Had he, upon leaving
Ferrol, been visited by a little of the desperation which brought him to
Trafalgar, the invasion of England might possibly—not probably—have been
effected.
An event so striking as the battle of Trafalgar becomes, however, to
mankind the symbol of all the circumstances—more important, perhaps, but
less obvious—which culminate in it. In this sense it may be said that
Trafalgar was the cause—as it certainly marked the period—of Napoleon’s
resolution to crush Great Britain by excluding her commerce from the
Continent. Here, therefore, the story of the influence of Sea Power upon
this great conflict ceases to follow the strictly naval events, and
becomes concerned simply with commerce-destroying, ordinarily a
secondary operation of maritime war, but exalted in the later years of
Napoleon’s reign to be the principal, if not the sole, means of action.
_Commerce Warfare after Trafalgar_
The warfare against commerce during the French Revolution, alike under
the Republic and under Napoleon, was marked by the same passionate
vehemence, the same extreme and far-reaching conceptions, the same
obstinate resolve utterly to overthrow and extirpate every opposing
force, that characterized the political and military enterprises of the
period. In the effort to bring under the yoke of their own policy the
commerce of the whole world, the two chief contestants, France and Great
Britain, swayed back and forth in deadly grapple over the vast arena,
trampling under foot the rights and interests of the weaker parties;
who, whether as neutrals, or as subjects of friendly or allied powers,
looked helplessly on, and found that in this great struggle for
self-preservation, neither outcries, nor threats, nor despairing
submission, availed to lessen the pressure that was gradually crushing
out both hope and life. The question between Napoleon and the British
people became simply one of endurance, as was tersely and powerfully
shown by the emperor himself. Both were expending their capital, and
drawing freely drafts upon the future, the one in money, the other in
men, to sustain their present strength. Like two infuriated dogs, they
had locked jaws over commerce, as the decisive element in the contest.
Neither would let go his grip until failing vitality should loose it, or
until some bystander should deal one a wound through which the powers of
life should drain away. All now know that in the latter way the end
came. The commercial policy of the great monarch, who, from the confines
of Europe, had watched the tussle with all the eagerness of
self-interest, angered Napoleon. To enforce his will, he made new and
offensive annexations of territory. The czar replied by a commercial
edict, sharp and decisive, and war was determined. “It is all a scene in
the Opera,” wrote Napoleon,[86] “and the English are the scene
shifters.” Words failed the men of that day to represent the grandeur
and apparent solidity of the Empire in 1811, when Napoleon’s heir was
born. In December, 1812, it was shattered from turret to foundation
stone; wrecked in the attempt “to conquer the sea by the land.” The
scene was shifted indeed.
Great Britain remained victorious on the field, but she had touched the
verge of ruin. Confronted with the fixed resolution of her enemy to
break down her commerce by an absolute exclusion from the continent of
Europe, and as far as possible from the rest of the world, she met the
challenge by a measure equally extreme, forbidding all neutral vessels
to enter ports hostile to her, unless they had first touched at one of
her own. Shut out herself from the Continent, she announced that while
this exclusion lasted she would shut the Continent off from all external
intercourse. “No trade except _through_ England,” was the formula under
which her leaders expressed their purpose. The entrance of Russia into
this strife, under the provocations of Napoleon, prevented the problem,
which of these two policies would overthrow the other, from reaching a
natural solution; and the final result of the measures which it is one
object of this and the following chapter to narrate must remain for ever
uncertain. It is, however, evident that a commercial and manufacturing
country like Great Britain must, in a strife the essence of which was
the restriction of trade, suffer more than one depending, as France did,
mainly upon her internal resources. The question, as before stated, was
whether she could endure the greater drain by her greater wealth. Upon
the whole, the indications were, and to the end continued to be, that
she could do so; that Napoleon, in entering upon this particular
struggle, miscalculated his enemy’s strength.
But besides this, here, as in every contest where the opponents are
closely matched, where power and discipline and leadership are nearly
equal, there was a further question: which of the two would make the
first and greatest mistakes, and how ready the other party was to profit
by his errors. In so even a balance, the wisest prophet cannot foresee
how the scale will turn. The result will depend not merely upon the
skill of the swordsman in handling his weapons, but also upon the
wariness of his fence and the quickness of his returns; much, too, upon
his temper. Here also Napoleon was worsted. Scarcely was the battle over
commerce joined, when the uprising of Spain was precipitated by
overconfidence; Great Britain hastened at once to place herself by the
side of the insurgents. Four years later, when the British people were
groaning in a protracted financial crisis,—when, if ever, there was a
hope that the expected convulsion and ruin were at hand,—Napoleon,
instead of waiting for his already rigorous blockade to finish the work
he attributed to it, strove to draw it yet closer, by demands which were
unnecessary and to which the czar could not yield. Again Great Britain
seized her opportunity, received her late enemy’s fleet, and filled his
treasury. Admit the difficulties of Napoleon; allow as we may for the
intricacy of the problem before him; the fact remains that he wholly
misunderstood the temper of the Spanish people, the dangers of the
Spanish enterprise, the resolution of Alexander. On the other hand,
looking upon the principal charge against the policy of the British
government, that it alienated the United States, it is still true that
there was no miscalculation as to the long-suffering of the latter under
the guidance of Jefferson, with his passion for peace. The submission of
the United States lasted until Napoleon was committed to his final
blunder, thus justifying the risk taken by Great Britain and awarding to
her the strategic triumph.
... As regards the rightfulness of the action of the two parties, viewed
separately from their policy, opinions will probably always differ,
according to the authority attributed by individuals to the _dicta_ of
International Law. It may be admitted at once that neither Napoleon’s
decrees nor the British orders can be justified at that bar, except by
the simple plea of self-preservation,—the first law of states even more
than of men; for no government is empowered to assent to that last
sacrifice, which the individual may make for the noblest motives. The
beneficent influence of the mass of conventions known as International
Law is indisputable, nor should its authority be lightly undermined; but
it cannot prevent the interests of belligerents and neutrals from
clashing, nor speak with perfect clearness in all cases where they do.
Of this the Rule of 1756 offered, in its day, a conspicuous instance.
The belligerent claimed that the neutral, by covering with his flag a
trade previously the monopoly of the enemy, not only inflicted a grave
injury by snatching from him a lawful prey, but was guilty likewise of a
breach of neutrality; the neutral contended that the enemy had a right
to change his commercial regulations, in war as well as in peace. To the
author, though an American, the belligerent argument seems the stronger;
nor was the laudable desire of the neutral for gain a nobler motive than
the solicitude, about their national resources, of men who rightly
believed themselves engaged in a struggle for national existence. The
measure meted to Austria and Prussia was an ominous indication of the
fate Great Britain might expect, if her strength failed her. But,
whatever the decision of our older and milder civilization on the merits
of the particular question, there can be no doubt of the passionate
earnestness of the two disputants in their day, nor of the conviction of
right held by either. In such a dilemma, the last answer of
International Law has to be that every state is the final judge as to
whether it should or should not make war; to its own self alone is it
responsible for the rightfulness of this action. If, however, the
condition of injury entailed by the neutral’s course is such as to
justify war, it justifies all lesser means of control. The question of
the rightfulness of these disappears, and that of policy alone remains.
It is the business of the neutral, by his prepared condition, to make
impolitic that which he claims is also wrong. The neutral which fails to
do so, which leaves its ports defenseless and its navy stunted until the
emergency comes, will then find, as the United States found in the early
years of this century, an admirable opportunity to write State Papers.
26. GENERAL STRATEGY OF THE WAR OF 1812[87]
The general considerations that have been advanced are sufficient to
indicate what should have been the general plan of the war on the part
of the United States. Every war must be aggressive, or, to use the
technical term, offensive, in military character; for unless you injure
the enemy, if you confine yourself, as some of the grumblers of that day
would have it, to simple defense against his efforts, obviously he has
no inducement to yield your contention. Incidentally, however, vital
interests must be defended, otherwise the power of offense falls with
them. Every war, therefore, has both a defensive and an offensive side,
and in an effective plan of campaign each must receive due attention.
Now, in 1812, so far as general natural conditions went, the United
States was relatively weak on the sea frontier, and strong on the side
of Canada. The seaboard might, indeed, in the preceding ten years, have
been given a development of force, by the creation of an adequate navy,
which would have prevented war, by the obvious danger to British
interests involved in hostilities. But this had not been done; and
Jefferson, by his gunboat policy, building some two hundred of those
vessels, worthless unless under cover of the land, proclaimed by act as
by voice his adherence to a bare defensive. The sea frontier, therefore,
became mainly a line of defense, the utility of which primarily was, or
should have been, to maintain communication with the outside world; to
support commerce, which in turn should sustain the financial potency
that determines the issues of war.
... Such in general was the condition of the sea frontier, thrown
inevitably upon the defensive. With the passing comment that, had it
been defended as suggested [by a squadron of respectable battleships in
concentrated strength.—EDITOR], Great Britain would never have forced
the war, let us now consider conditions on the Canadian line, where
circumstances eminently favored the offensive by the United States; for
this war should not be regarded simply as a land war or a naval war, nor
yet as a war of offense and again one of defense, but as being
continuously and at all times both offensive and defensive, both land
and sea, in reciprocal influence.
Disregarding as militarily unimportant the artificial boundary dividing
Canada from New York, Vermont, and the eastern parts of the Union, the
frontier separating the land positions of the two belligerents was the
Great Lakes and the river St. Lawrence. This presented certain
characteristic and unusual features. That it was a water line was a
condition not uncommon; but it was exceptionally marked by those broad
expanses which constitute inland seas of great size and depth, navigable
by vessels of the largest sea-going dimensions. This water system, being
continuous and in continual progress, is best conceived by applying to
the whole, from Lake Superior to the ocean, the name of the great river,
the St. Lawrence, which on the one hand unites it to the sea, and on the
other divides the inner waters from the outer by a barrier of rapids,
impassable to ships that otherwise could navigate freely both lakes and
ocean.
The importance of the lakes to military operations must always be great,
but it was much enhanced in 1812 by the undeveloped condition of land
communications. With the roads in the state they then were, the movement
of men, and still more of supplies, was vastly more rapid by water than
by land. Except in winter, when iron-bound snow covered the ground, the
routes of Upper Canada were well-nigh impassable; in spring and in
autumn rains, wholly so to heavy vehicles. The mail from Montreal to
York,—now Toronto,—three hundred miles, took a month in transit.[88] In
October, 1814, when the war was virtually over, the British general at
Niagara lamented to the commander-in-chief that, owing to the refusal of
the navy to carry troops, an important detachment was left “to struggle
through the dreadful roads from Kingston to York.”[89] “Should
reinforcements and provisions not arrive, the naval commander would,” in
his opinion, “have much to answer for.”[90] The commander-in-chief
himself wrote: “The command of the lakes enables the enemy to perform in
two days what it takes the troops from Kingston sixteen to twenty days
of severe marching. Their men arrive fresh; ours fatigued, and with
exhausted equipment. The distance from Kingston to the Niagara frontier
exceeds two hundred and fifty miles, and part of the way is
impracticable for supplies.”[91] On the United States side, road
conditions were similar but much less disadvantageous. The water route
by Ontario was greatly preferred as a means of transportation, and in
parts and at certain seasons was indispensable. Stores for Sackett’s
Harbor, for instance, had in early summer to be brought to Oswego, and
thence coasted along to their destination, in security or in peril,
according to the momentary predominance of one party or the other on the
lake. In like manner, it was more convenient to move between the Niagara
frontier and the east end of the lake by water; but in case of
necessity, men could march. An English traveler in 1818 says: “I
accomplished the journey from Albany to Buffalo in October in six days
with ease and comfort, whereas in May it took ten of great difficulty
and distress.”[92] In the farther West the American armies, though much
impeded, advanced securely through Ohio and Indiana to the shores of
Lake Erie, and there maintained themselves in supplies sent
over-country; whereas the British at the western end of the lake,
opposite Detroit, depended wholly upon the water, although no hostile
force threatened the land line between them and Ontario. The battle of
Lake Erie, so disastrous to their cause, was forced upon them purely by
failure of food, owing to the appearance of Perry’s squadron.
... The opinion of competent soldiers on the spot, such as Craig and
Brock, in full possession of all the contemporary facts, may be accepted
explicitly as confirming the inferences which in any event might have
been drawn from the natural features of the situation. Upon Mackinac and
Detroit depended the control and quiet of the Northwestern country,
because they commanded vital points on its line of communication. Upon
Kingston and Montreal, by their position and intrinsic advantages,
rested the communication of all Canada, along and above the St.
Lawrence, with the sea power of Great Britain, whence alone could be
drawn the constant support without which ultimate defeat should have
been inevitable. Naval power, sustained upon the Great Lakes, controlled
the great line of communication between the East and West, and also
conferred upon the party possessing it the strategic advantage of
interior lines; that is, of shorter distances, both in length and time,
to move from point to point of the lake shores, close to which lay the
scenes of operations. It followed that Detroit and Michilimackinac,
being at the beginning in the possession of the United States, should
have been fortified, garrisoned, provisioned, in readiness for siege,
and placed in close communication with home, as soon as war was seen to
be imminent, which it was in December, 1811, at latest. Having in that
quarter everything to lose, and comparatively little to gain, the
country was thrown on the defensive. On the east the possession of
Montreal or Kingston would cut off all Canada above from support by the
sea, which would be equivalent to ensuring its fall. “I shall continue
to exert myself to the utmost to overcome every difficulty,” wrote
Brock, who gave such emphatic proof of energetic and sagacious exertion
in his subsequent course. “Should, however, the communication between
Montreal and Kingston be cut off, the fate of the troops in this part of
the province will be decided.”[93] “The Montreal frontier,” said the
officer selected by the Duke of Wellington to report on the defenses of
Canada, “is the most important, and at present [1826] confessedly most
vulnerable and accessible part of Canada.”[94] There, then, was the
direction for offensive operations by the United States; preferably
against Montreal, for, if successful, a much larger region would be
isolated and reduced. Montreal gone, Kingston could receive no help from
without; and, even if capable of temporary resistance, its surrender
would be but a question of time. Coincidently with this military
advance, naval development for the control of the lakes should have
proceeded, as a discreet precaution; although, after the fall of
Kingston and Montreal, there could have been little use of an inland
navy, for the British local resources would then have been inadequate to
maintain an opposing force.
_Results of the Northern Campaign_
[While control was more vital and the forces stronger on Lake Ontario
than on either Erie or Champlain, no naval action of consequence
occurred there in 1813 or in fact throughout the war. Yeo, the British
commander, was enjoined by Admiralty orders to take no risks; and the
American Commodore Chauncey, with no such justification, adopted a
similar policy. Hence the important fleet actions of the war were in
other waters—Perry’s victory of September 10, 1813, on Lake Erie, and
Macdonough’s victory on Lake Champlain a year later. The first sentence
in the paragraph following refers to a raid on Buffalo, December 30,
1813.—EDITOR.]
With this may be said to have terminated the northern campaign of 1813.
The British had regained full control of the Niagara peninsula, and they
continued to hold Fort Niagara, in the State of New York, till peace was
concluded. The only substantial gain on the whole frontier, from the
extreme east to the extreme west, was the destruction of the British
fleet on Lake Erie, and the consequent transfer of power in the west to
the United States. This was the left flank of the American position. Had
the same result been accomplished on the right flank,—as it might have
been,—at Montreal, or even at Kingston, the center and left must have
fallen also. For the misdirection of effort to Niagara, the local
commanders, Dearborn and Chauncey, are primarily responsible; for
Armstrong[95] yielded his own correct perceptions to the representations
of the first as to the enemy’s force, supported by the arguments of the
naval officer favoring the diversion of effort from Kingston to Toronto.
Whether Chauncey ever formally admitted to himself this fundamental
mistake, which wrecked the summer’s work upon Lake Ontario, does not
appear; but that he had learned from experience is shown by a letter to
the Secretary of the Navy,[96] when the squadrons had been laid up. In
this he recognized the uselessness of the heavy sailing schooners when
once a cruising force of ships for war had been created, thereby
condemning much of his individual management of the campaign; and he
added: “If it is determined to prosecute the war offensively, and secure
our conquests in Upper Canada, Kingston ought unquestionably to be the
first object of attack, and that so early in the spring as to prevent
the enemy from using the whole of the naval force that he is preparing.”
In the three chapters which here end, the Ontario operations have been
narrated consecutively and at length, without interruption by other
issues,—except the immediately related Lake Erie campaign,—because upon
them turned, and upon them by the dispositions of the government this
year were wrecked the fortunes of the war. The year 1813, from the
opening of the spring to the closing in of winter, was for several
reasons the period when conditions were most propitious to the American
cause. In 1812 war was not begun until June, and then with little
antecedent preparation; and it was waged half-heartedly, both
governments desiring to nip hostilities. In 1814, on the other hand,
when the season opened, Napoleon had fallen, and the United States no
longer had an informal ally to divert the efforts of Great Britain. But
in the intervening year, 1813, although the pressure upon the seaboard,
the defensive frontier, was undoubtedly greater than before, and much
vexation and harassment was inflicted, no serious injury was done beyond
the suppression of commerce, inevitable in any event. In the north, on
the lakes frontier, the offensive and the initiative continued in the
hands of the United States. No substantial reinforcements reached Canada
until long after the ice broke up, and then in insufficient numbers.
British naval preparations had been on an inadequate scale, receiving no
proper professional supervision. The American Government, on the
contrary, had had the whole winter to prepare, and the services of a
very competent naval organizer. It had also the same period to get ready
its land forces; while incompetent Secretaries of War and of the Navy
gave place in January to capable men in both situations.
With all this in its favor, and despite certain gratifying successes,
the general outcome was a complete failure, the full measure of which
could be realized only when the downfall of Napoleon revealed what
disaster may result from neglect to seize opportunity while it exists.
The tide then ebbed, and never again flowed. For this many causes may be
alleged. The imbecile ideas concerning military and naval preparation
which had prevailed since the opening of the century doubtless counted
for much. The entrusting of chief command to broken-down men like
Dearborn and Wilkinson was enough to ruin the best conceived schemes.
But, despite these very serious drawbacks, the strategic misdirection of
effort was the most fatal cause of failure.
There is a simple but very fruitful remark of a Swiss military writer,
that every military line may be conceived as having three parts, the
middle and the two ends, or flanks. As sound principle requires that
military effort should not be distributed along the whole of an enemy’s
position,—unless in the unusual case of overwhelming superiority,—but
that distinctly superior numbers should be concentrated upon a limited
portion of it, this idea of a threefold division aids materially in
considering any given situation. One third, or two thirds, of an enemy’s
line may be assailed, but very seldom the whole; and everything may
depend upon the choice made for attack. Now the British frontier, which
the United States was to assail, extended from Montreal on the east to
Detroit on the west. Its three parts were: Montreal and the St. Lawrence
on the east, or left flank; Ontario in the middle, centering at
Kingston; and Erie on the right; the strength of the British position in
the last-named section being at Detroit and Malden, because they
commanded the straits upon which the Indian tribes depended for access
to the east. Over against the British positions named lay those of the
United States. Given in the same order, these were: Lake Champlain, and
the shores of Ontario and of Erie, centering respectively in the naval
stations at Sackett’s Harbor and Presque Isle.
Accepting these definitions, which are too obvious to admit of dispute,
what considerations should have dictated to the United States the
direction of attack; the one, or two, parts out of the three, on which
effort should be concentrated? The reply, as a matter of abstract,
accepted, military principle, is certain. Unless very urgent reasons to
the contrary exist, strike at one end rather than at the middle, because
both ends can come up to help the middle against you quicker than one
end can get to help the other; and, as between the two ends, strike at
the one upon which the enemy most depends for reinforcements and
supplies to maintain his strength. Sometimes this decision presents
difficulties. Before Waterloo, Wellington had his own army as a center
of interest; on his right flank the sea, whence came supplies and
reinforcements from England; on his left the Prussian army, support by
which was imminently necessary. On which flank would Napoleon throw the
weight of his attack? Wellington reasoned, perhaps through national
bias, intensified by years of official dependence upon sea support, that
the blow would fall upon his right, and he strengthened it with a body
of men sorely needed when the enemy came upon his left, in overwhelming
numbers, seeking to separate him from the Prussians.
No such doubt was possible as to Canada in 1813. It depended wholly upon
the sea, and it touched the sea at Montreal. The United States, with its
combined naval and military strength, crude as the latter was, was at
the beginning of 1813 quite able in material power to grapple two out of
the three parts,—Montreal and Kingston. Had they been gained, Lake Erie
would have fallen; as is demonstrated by the fact that the whole Erie
region went down like a house of cards the moment Perry triumphed on the
lake. His victory was decisive, simply because it destroyed the
communications of Malden with the sea. The same result would have been
achieved, with effect over a far wider region, by a similar success in
the east.
27. LESSONS OF THE WAR WITH SPAIN[97]
_The Possibilities of a “Fleet in Being”_
[Admiral Cervera left the Cape Verde Islands on April 29, 1898. After
touching at Martinique on May 11, he coaled at Curaçao on the 15th, and
entered Santiago on the 19th.
On news of Cervera’s arrival at Martinique, Sampson’s squadron from
Porto Rico and Schley’s Flying Squadron from Hampton Roads converged on
Key West. Sampson had his full strength in the approaches to Havana by
the 21st and Schley was off Cienfuegos, the chief southern port of Cuba,
on the 22d.
“We cannot,” writes Admiral Mahan, “expect ever again to have an enemy
so entirely inapt as Spain showed herself to be; yet, even so, Cervera’s
division reached Santiago on the 19th of May, two days before our
divisions appeared in the full force they could muster before Havana and
Cienfuegos.”[98]—EDITOR.]
As was before said, the disparity between the armored fleets of the two
nations was nominally inconsiderable; and the Spaniards possessed one
extremely valuable—and by us unrivalled—advantage in a nearly
homogeneous group of five[99] armored cruisers, very fast, and very
similar both in nautical qualities and in armament. It is difficult to
estimate too highly the possibilities open to such a body of ships,
regarded as a “fleet in being,” to use an expression that many of our
readers may have seen, but perhaps scarcely fully understood.
The phrase “fleet in being,” having within recent years gained much
currency in naval writing, demands—like the word “jingo”—preciseness of
definition; and this, in general acceptance, it has not yet attained. It
remains, therefore, somewhat vague, and so occasions misunderstandings
between men whose opinions perhaps do not materially differ. The writer
will not attempt to define, but a brief explanation of the term and its
origin may not be amiss. It was first used, in 1690, by the British
admiral Lord Torrington, when defending his course in declining to
engage decisively, with an inferior force, a French fleet, then
dominating in the Channel, and under cover of which it was expected that
a descent upon the English coast would be made by a great French army.
“Had I fought otherwise,” he said, “our fleet had been totally lost, and
the kingdom had lain open to invasion. As it was, most men were in fear
that the French would invade; but I was always of another opinion, for I
always said that whilst we had a fleet in being, they would not dare to
make an attempt.”
A “fleet in being,” therefore, is one the existence and maintenance of
which, although inferior, on or near the scene of operations, is a
perpetual menace to the various more or less exposed interests of the
enemy, who cannot tell when a blow may fall, and who is therefore
compelled to restrict his operations, otherwise possible, until that
fleet can be destroyed or neutralized. It corresponds very closely to “a
position on the flank and rear” of an enemy, where the presence of a
smaller force, as every military student knows, harasses, and may even
paralyze, offensive movements. When such a force is extremely mobile, as
a fleet of armored cruisers may be, its power of mischief is very great;
potentially, it is forever on the flank and rear, threatening the lines
of communications. It is indeed as a threat to communications that the
“fleet in being” is chiefly formidable.
The theory received concrete and convincing illustration during the
recent hostilities, from the effect exerted—and justly exerted—upon our
plans and movements by Cervera’s squadron, until there had been
assembled before Santiago a force at once so strong and so numerous as
to make his escape very improbable. Even so, when a telegram was
received from a capable officer that he had identified by night, off the
north coast of Cuba, an armored cruiser,—which, if of that class, was
most probably an enemy,—the sailing of Shafter’s expedition was stopped
until the report could be verified. So much for the positive, material
influence—in the judgment of the writer, the reasonable influence—of a
“fleet in being.” As regards the moral effect, the effect upon the
imagination, it is scarcely necessary more than to allude to the
extraordinary play of the fancy, the kaleidoscopic effects elicited from
our own people, and from some foreign critics, in propounding dangers
for ourselves and ubiquity for Cervera. Against the infection of such
tremors it is one of the tasks of those in responsibility to guard
themselves and, if possible, their people. “Don’t make pictures for
yourself,” was Napoleon’s warning to his generals. “Every naval
operation since I became head of the government has failed, because my
admirals see double and have learned—where I don’t know—that war can be
made without running risks.”
The probable value of a “fleet in being” has, in the opinion of the
writer, been much overstated; for, even at the best, the game of
evasion, which this is, if persisted in, can have but one issue. The
superior force will in the end run the inferior to earth. In the
meanwhile, however, vital time may have been lost. It is conceivable,
for instance, that Cervera’s squadron, if thoroughly effective, might,
by swift and well-concealed movements, have detained our fleet in the
West Indies until the hurricane of September, 1898, swept over the
Caribbean. We had then no reserve to replace armored ships lost or
damaged. But, for such persistence of action, there is needed in each
unit of the “fleet in being” an efficiency rarely attainable, and liable
to be lost by unforeseen accident at a critical moment. Where effect,
nay, safety, depends upon mere celerity of movement, as in retreat, a
crippled ship means a lost ship; or a lost fleet, if the body sticks to
its disabled member. Such efficiency it is probable Cervera’s division
never possessed. The length of its passage across the Atlantic, however
increased by the embarrassment of frequently recoaling the torpedo
destroyers, so far overpassed the extreme calculations of our naval
authorities, that ready credence was given to an apparently authentic
report that it had returned to Spain; the more so that such
concentration was strategically correct, and it was incorrect to
adventure an important detachment so far from home, without the
reinforcement it might have received in Cadiz. This delay, in ships
whose individual speed had originally been very high, has been commonly
attributed in our service to the inefficiency of the engine-room force;
and this opinion is confirmed by a Spanish officer writing in their
“Revista de la Marina.” “The Americans,” he says, “keep their ships
cruising constantly, in every sea, and therefore have a large and
qualified engine-room force. We have but few machinists, and are almost
destitute of firemen.” This inequality, however, is fundamentally due to
the essential differences of mechanical capacity and development in the
two nations. An amusing story was told the writer some years ago by one
of our consuls in Cuba. Making a rather rough passage between two ports,
he saw an elderly Cuban or Spanish gentleman peering frequently into the
engine-room, with evident uneasiness. When asked the cause of his
concern, the reply was, “I don’t feel comfortable unless the man in
charge of the engines talks English to them.”
When to the need of constant and sustained ability to move at high speed
is added the necessity of frequent recoaling, allowing the hostile navy
time to come up, it is evident that the active use of a “fleet in
being,” however perplexing to the enemy, must be both anxious and
precarious to its own commander. The contest is one of strategic wits,
and it is quite possible that the stronger, though slower, force,
centrally placed, may, in these days of cables, be able to receive word
and to corner its antagonist before the latter can fill his bunkers. Of
this fact we should probably have received a very convincing
illustration, had a satisfactory condition of our coast defenses
permitted the Flying Squadron to be off Cienfuegos, or even off Havana,
instead of in Hampton Roads. Cervera’s entrance to Santiago was known to
us within twenty-four hours. In twenty-four more it could have been
communicated off Cienfeugos by a fast despatch boat, after which less
than forty-eight would have placed our division before Santiago. The
uncertainty felt by Commodore Schley, when he arrived off Cienfuegos, as
to whether the Spanish division was inside or no, would not have existed
had his squadron been previously blockading; and his consequent delay of
over forty-eight hours—with the rare chance thus offered to
Cervera—would not have occurred. To coal four great ships within that
time was probably beyond the resources of Santiago; whereas the speed
predicted for our own movements is rather below than above the
dispositions contemplated to ensure it.
The great end of a war fleet, however, is not to chase, nor to fly, but
to control the seas. Had Cervera escaped our pursuit at Santiago, it
would have been only to be again paralyzed at Cienfuegos or at Havana.
When speed, not force, is the reliance, destruction may be postponed,
but can be escaped only by remaining in port. Let it not, therefore, be
inferred, from the possible, though temporary, effect of a “fleet in
being,” that speed is the chief of all factors in the battleship. This
plausible, superficial notion, too easily accepted in these days of
hurry and of unreflecting dependence upon machinery as the all in all,
threatens much harm to the future efficiency of the navy. Not speed, but
power of offensive action, is the dominant factor in war. The decisive
preponderant element of great land forces has ever been the infantry,
which, it is needless to say, is also the slowest. The homely summary of
the art of war, “To get there first with the most men,” has with strange
perverseness been so distorted in naval—and still more in
popular—conception, that the second and more important consideration has
been subordinated to the former and less essential. Force does not exist
for mobility, but mobility for force. It is of no use to get there first
unless, when the enemy in turn arrives, you have also the most men,—the
greater force. This is especially true of the sea, because there
inferiority of force—of gun power—cannot be compensated, as on land it
at times may be, by judiciously using accidents of the ground. I do not
propose to fall into an absurdity of my own by questioning the
usefulness of higher speed, _provided_ the increase is not purchased at
the expense of strictly offensive power; but the time has come to say
plainly that its value is being exaggerated; that it is in the
battleship secondary to gun power; that a battle fleet can never attain,
nor maintain, the highest rate of any ship in it, except of that one
which at the moment is the slowest, for it is a commonplace of naval
action that fleet speed is that of the slowest ship; that not
exaggerated speed, but uniform speed—sustained speed—is the requisite of
the battle fleet; that it is not machinery, as is often affirmed, but
brains and guns, that win battles and control of the sea. The true speed
of war is not headlong precipitancy, but the unremitting energy which
wastes no time.
For the reasons that have been given, the safest, though not the most
effective, disposition of an inferior “fleet in being” is to lock it up
in an impregnable port or ports, imposing upon the enemy the intense and
continuous strain of watchfulness against escape. This it was that
Torrington, the author of the phrase, proposed for the time to do. Thus
it was that Napoleon, to some extent before Trafalgar, but afterward
with set and exclusive purpose, used the French Navy, which he was
continually augmenting, and yet never, to the end of his reign,
permitted again to undertake any serious expedition. The mere
maintenance of several formidable detachments, in apparent readiness,
from the Scheldt round to Toulon, presented to the British so many
possibilities of mischief that they were compelled to keep constantly
before each of the French ports a force superior to that within,
entailing an expense and an anxiety by which the emperor hoped to
exhaust their endurance. To some extent this was Cervera’s position and
function in Santiago, whence followed logically the advisability of a
land attack upon the port, to force to a decisive issue a situation
which was endurable only if incurable. “The destruction of Cervera’s
squadron,” justly commented an Italian writer, before the result was
known, “is the only really decisive fact that can result from the
expedition to Santiago, because it will reduce to impotence the naval
power of Spain. The determination of the conflict will depend throughout
upon the destruction of the Spanish sea power, and not upon territorial
descents, although the latter may aggravate the situation.” The American
admiral from before Santiago, when urging the expedition of a land force
to make the bay untenable, telegraphed, “The destruction of this
squadron will end the war;” and it did.
28. THE SANTIAGO BLOCKADE[100]
Our battle fleet before Santiago was more than powerful enough to crush
the hostile squadron in a very short time if the latter attempted a
stand-up fight. The fact was so evident that it was perfectly clear
nothing of the kind would be hazarded; but, nevertheless, we could not
afford to diminish the number of armored vessels on this spot, now
become the determining center of the conflict. The possibility of the
situation was twofold. Either the enemy might succeed in an effort at
evasion, a chance which required us to maintain a distinctly superior
force of battleships in order to allow the occasional absence of one or
two for coaling or repairs, besides as many lighter cruisers as could be
mustered for purposes of lookout, or, by merely remaining quietly at
anchor, protected from attack by the lines of torpedoes, he might
protract a situation which tended not only to wear out our ships, but
also to keep them there into the hurricane season,—a risk which was not,
perhaps, adequately realized by the people of the United States.
It is desirable at this point to present certain other elements of the
naval situation which weightily affected naval action at the moment, and
which, also, were probably overlooked by the nation at large, for they
give a concrete illustration of conditions, which ought to influence our
national policy, as regards the navy, in the present and immediate
future. We had to economize our ships because they were too few. There
was no reserve. The Navy Department had throughout, and especially at
this period, to keep in mind, not merely the exigencies at Santiago, but
the fact that we had not a battleship in the home ports that could in
six months be made ready to replace one lost or seriously disabled, as
the _Massachusetts_, for instance, not long afterwards was, by running
on an obstruction in New York Bay. Surprise approaching disdain was
expressed, both before and after the destruction of Cervera’s squadron,
that the battle fleet was not sent into Santiago either to grapple the
enemy’s ships there, or to support the operations of the army, in the
same way, for instance, that Farragut crossed the torpedo lines at
Mobile. The reply—and, in the writer’s judgment, the more than adequate
reason—was that the country could not at that time, under the political
conditions which then obtained, afford to risk the loss or disablement
of a single battleship, unless the enterprise in which it was hazarded
carried a reasonable probability of equal or greater loss to the enemy,
leaving us, therefore, as strong as before relatively to the naval power
which in the course of events might yet be arrayed against us. If we
lost ten thousand men, the country could replace them; if we lost a
battleship, it could not be replaced. The issue of the war, as a whole
and in every locality to which it extended, depended upon naval force,
and it was imperative to achieve, not success only, but success delayed
no longer than necessary. A million of the best soldiers would have been
powerless in face of hostile control of the sea. Dewey had not a
battleship, but there can be no doubt that that capable admiral thought
he ought to have one or more; and so he ought, if we had had them to
spare. The two monitors would be something, doubtless, when they
arrived; but, like all their class, they lacked mobility.
When Cámara started by way of Suez for the East, it was no more evident
than it was before that we ought to have battleships there. That was
perfectly plain from the beginning; but battleships no more than men can
be in two places at once, and until Cámara’s movement had passed beyond
the chance of turning west, the Spanish fleet in the Peninsula had, as
regarded the two fields of war, the West Indies and the Philippines, the
recognized military advantage of an interior position. In accepting
inferiority in the East, and concentrating our available force in the
West Indies, thereby ensuring a superiority over any possible
combination of Spanish vessels in the latter quarter, the Department
acted rightly and in accordance with sound military precedent; but it
must be remembered that the Spanish Navy was not the only possibility of
the day. The writer was not in a position to know then, and does not
know now, what weight the United States Government attached to the
current rumors of possible political friction with other states whose
people were notoriously sympathizers with our enemy. The public knows as
much about that as he does; but it was clear that if a disposition to
interfere did exist anywhere, it would not be lessened by a serious
naval disaster to us, such as the loss of one of our few battleships
would be. Just as in the maintenance of a technically “effective”
blockade of the Cuban ports, so, also, in sustaining the entireness and
vigor of the battle fleet, the attitude of foreign Powers as well as the
strength of the immediate enemy had to be considered. For such reasons
it was recommended that the orders on this point to Admiral Sampson
should be peremptory; not that any doubt existed as to the discretion of
that officer, who justly characterized the proposition to throw the
ships upon the mine fields of Santiago as suicidal folly, but because it
was felt that the burden of such a decision should be assumed by a
superior authority, less liable to suffer in personal reputation from
the idle imputations of over-caution, which at times were ignorantly
made by some who ought to have known better, but did not. “The matter is
left to your discretion,” the telegram read, “except that the United
States armored vessels must not be risked.”
When Cervera’s squadron was once cornered, an intelligent opponent
would, under any state of naval preparedness, have seen the advisability
of forcing him out of the port by an attack in the rear, which could be
made only by an army. As Nelson said on one occasion, “What is wanted
now is not more ships, but troops.” Under few conditions should such a
situation be prolonged. But the reasons adduced in the last paragraph
made it doubly incumbent upon us to bring the matter speedily to an
issue, and the combined expedition from Tampa was at once ordered.
Having in view the number of hostile troops in the country surrounding
Santiago, as shown by the subsequent returns of prisoners, and shrewdly
suspected by ourselves beforehand, it was undoubtedly desirable to
employ a larger force than was sent. The criticism made upon the
inadequate number of troops engaged in this really daring movement is
intrinsically sound, and would be wholly accurate if directed, not
against the enterprise itself, but against the national shortsightedness
which gave us so trivial an army at the outbreak of the war. The really
hazardous nature of the movement is shown by the fact that the column of
Escario, three thousand strong, from Manzanillo, reached Santiago on
July 3d; too late, it is true, abundantly too late, to take part in the
defense of San Juan and El Caney, upon holding which the city depended
for food and water; yet not so late but that it gives a shivering
suggestion how much more arduous would have been the task of our troops
had Escario come up in time. The incident but adds another to history’s
long list of instances where desperate energy and economy of time have
wrested safety out of the jaws of imminent disaster. The occasion was
one that called upon us to take big risks; and success merely justifies
doubly an attempt which, from the obvious balance of advantages and
disadvantages, was antecedently justified by its necessity, and would
not have been fair subject for blame, even had it failed.
The Navy Department did not, however, think that even a small chance of
injury should be taken which could be avoided; and it may be remarked
that, while the man is unfit for command who, on emergency, is unable to
run a very great risk for the sake of decisive advantage, he, on the
other hand, is only less culpable who takes even a small risk of serious
harm against which reasonable precaution can provide. It has been well
said that Nelson took more care of his topgallant masts, in ordinary
cruising, than he did of his whole fleet when the enemy was to be
checked or beaten; and this combination of qualities apparently opposed
is found in all strong military characters to the perfection of which
both are necessary.
29. “FLEET IN BEING” AND “FORTRESS FLEET”[101]
_The Port Arthur Squadron in the Russo-Japanese War_
[At the outbreak of the Russo-Japanese War in February, 1904, Russia had
three armored cruisers at Vladivostok, another at Chemulpo, Korea, and
seven battleships, six cruisers, and a torpedo flotilla at Port Arthur.
Three of the Port Arthur ships were badly damaged by torpedo attack on
February 8, and the cruiser at Chemulpo was destroyed on the next day.
Togo lost two of his six first-class battleships by running into a mine
field off Port Arthur on May 15. In an attempt to escape to Vladivostok
on August 10, the Port Arthur squadron lost a battleship and several
cruisers; the remainder were sunk in the course of the Port Arthur
siege. This lasted from May 27 to January 1, 1905. Even before February
8, 1904, the Japanese had begun transporting their troops to Korea; and
after the fall of Port Arthur they were able to throw their full
strength against General Kuropatkin in the decisive battle of Mukden,
February 24, 1905.—EDITOR.]
I have been led, on an occasion not immediately connected with Naval
Strategy, to observe that errors and defeats are more obviously
illustrative of principles than successes are. It is from the records of
the beaten side that we are most surely able to draw instruction. This
is partly due to the fact that the general or admiral who is worsted has
to justify himself to his people, perhaps also to his Government. The
naval practice of court-martialing a defeated captain or admiral has
been most productive of the material which history, and the art of war,
both require for their treatment. Even failing a court-martial, defeat
cries aloud for explanation; whereas success, like charity, covers a
multitude of sins. To this day Marengo is the victory of Napoleon, not
of Desaix; and the hazardous stretching of the French line which caused
the first defeat is by most forgotten in the ultimate triumph. The man
who has failed will of his own motion bring out all that extenuates
failure, or relieves him from the imputation of it. The victor is asked
few questions; and if conscious of mistakes he need not reveal them.
More can be found to criticize Kuropatkin and Rozhestvensky than to
recognize either their difficulties or their merits. Probably few, even
in this naval audience, knew, or have noted, that on the day preceding
that on which two Japanese battleships, the _Hatsuse_ and _Yashima_,
were sunk by Russian mines, not a Japanese scout was in sight, to notice
the Russian vessel engaged in the work which resulted so disastrously to
its foes. On that day, during that operation, no Japanese vessel was
visible to the lookouts at Port Arthur.
For the reasons advanced, I turn at first, and more particularly, to the
Russian naval action for illustration of principles, whether shown in
right or wrong conduct; and here I first name _two_ such principles, or
formulation of maxims, as having been fundamental, and in my judgment
fundamentally erroneous, in the Russian practice. These are mental
conceptions, the first of which has been explicitly stated as
controlling Russian plans, and influencing Russian military ideas; while
the second may be deduced, inferentially, as exercising much effect. The
first, under the title of “Fortress Fleet,” is distinctly Russian;
realized, that is, in Russian theory and practice, though not without
representation in the military thought of other countries. The second is
the well known “Fleet in Being;” a conception distinctly English in
statement and in origin, although, like the first, it finds reflection
in naval circles elsewhere. I shall not at this point define this
conception “Fleet in Being.” I shall attempt to do so later, by marking
its extreme expression; but to do more will require more space than is
expedient to give here, because full definition would demand the putting
forward of various shades of significance, quite wide in their
divergence, which are attributed to the expression—“Fleet in Being”—by
those who range themselves as advocates of the theory embraced in the
phrase.
It is, however, apt here to remark that, in extreme formulation, the two
theories, or principles, summed up in the phrases, “Fortress Fleet” and
“Fleet in Being,” are the antipodes of each other. They represent naval,
or military, thought polarized, so to say. The one lays all stress on
the fortress, making the fleet so far subsidiary as to have no reason
for existence save to help the fortress. The other discards the fortress
altogether, unless possibly as a momentary refuge for the vessels of the
fleet while coaling, repairing, or refreshing. The one throws national
defense for the coast lines upon fortifications only; the other relies
upon the fleet alone for actual defense. In each case, co-operation
between the two arms, fleet and coast-works, is characterized by a
supremacy of one or the other, so marked as to be exclusive.
Co-ordination of the two, which I conceive to be the proper solution,
can scarcely be said to exist. The relation is that of subjection,
rather than of co-ordination. [Here a distinction is drawn between
_compromise_, which implies concessions and a middle course between
divergent purposes, and the proper method best expressed by the word
_adjustment_, which signifies concentration on a single purpose and
co-ordination of all means to that end.]
It is worthy of your consideration whether the word “compromise” does
not really convey to your minds an impression that, when you come to
design a ship of war, you must be prepared to concede something on every
quality, in order that each of the others may have its share. Granting,
and I am not prepared to deny, that in effect each several quality must
yield something, if only in order that its own effectiveness be ensured,
as in the case of the central defense force just cited, is it of no
consequence that you approach the problem in the spirit of him who
divided his force among several passes, rather than of him who
recognizes a central conception to which all else is to minister? Take
the armored cruiser; a fad, I admit, with myself. She is armored, and
she is a cruiser; and what have you got? A ship to “lie in the line?” as
our ancestors used to say. No, and Yes; that is to say, she may on a
pinch, and at a risk which exceeds her powers. A cruiser? Yes, and No;
for, in order to give her armor and armament which do not fit her for
the line, you have given tonnage beyond what is needed for the speed and
coal endurance proper to a cruiser. By giving this tonnage to armor and
armament you have taken it from other uses; either from increasing her
own speed and endurance, or from providing an additional cruiser. You
have in her more cruiser than you ought to have, and less armored
vessel; or else less cruiser and more armored ship. I do not call this a
combination, though it is undoubtedly a compromise. You have put two
things together, but they remain two, have not become one; and,
considering the tonnage, you have neither as much armored ship, nor as
much cruiser, as you ought to have. I do not say you have a useless
ship. I do say you have not as useful a ship as, for the tonnage, you
ought to have. Whether this opinion of one man is right or wrong,
however, is a very small matter compared with the desirability of
officers generally considering these subjects on proper lines of
thought, and with proper instruments of expression; that is, with
correct principles and correct phraseology.
As an illustration of what I am here saying, the two expressions,
“Fortress Fleet” and “Fleet in Being,” themselves give proof in their
ultimate effect upon Russian practice and principle. Fortress Fleet
was a dominant conception in Russian military and naval thought. I
quote with some reserve, because from a daily newspaper,[102] but as
probably accurate, and certainly characteristic of Russian theory, the
following: “Before his departure from Bizerta for the Suez Canal,
Admiral Wirenius, in command of the Russian squadron, remarked that
the Russian plan was to make Port Arthur and Vladivostok the two most
important arsenals in the empire, each having a fleet of corresponding
strength,”—corresponding, that is, to the fortress,—“depending upon it
as upon a base.” The distribution would be a division in the face of
the probable enemy, Japan, centrally situated, because the design has
reference primarily to the fortress, not to naval efficiency. The
conception is not wholly erroneous; if it were, the error would have
been detected. It has an element of truth, and therein lies its
greatest danger; the danger of half or quarter truths. A fleet _can_
contribute to the welfare of coast fortresses; especially when the
fortress is in a foreign possession of the nation. On the other hand,
the Fleet in Being theory has also an element of truth, a very
considerable element; and it has been before the naval public,
explicitly, for so long a time that it is impossible it was not known
in Russia. It was known and was appreciated. It had a strong
following. The Russian Naval General Staff clamored for command of the
sea; but in influence upon the government, the responsible director
and formulator of national policy, it did not possess due weight. Not
having been adequately grasped,—whether from neglect, or because the
opposite factor of Fortress Fleet was already in possession of men’s
minds,—it was never able to secure expression in the national plans.
There was compromise, possibly; both things, Fleet in Being and
Fortress Fleet, were attempted; but there was not adjustment. The
fortress throughout reduced the fleet, as fleet, to insignificance in
the national conceptions. What resulted was that at Port Arthur the
country got neither a fortress fleet, for, except the guns mounted
from it, the fleet contributed nothing to the defense of the place;
nor yet a Fleet in Being, for it was never used as such.
It is interesting to observe that this predominant conception of a
fortress fleet reflects national temperament; that is, national
characteristics, national bias. For, for what does Fortress Fleet stand?
For the defensive idea. For what does Fleet in Being stand? For the
offensive. In what kind of warfare has Russia most conspicuously
distinguished herself? In defensive. She has had her Suvarof, doubtless;
but in 1812, and in the Crimea, and now again, in 1904–1905, it is to
the defensive that she has inclined. In virtue of her territorial bulk
and vast population, she has, so to say, let the enemy hammer at her,
sure of survival in virtue of mass. Militarily, Russia as a nation is
not enterprising. She has an apathetic bias towards the defensive. She
has not, as a matter of national, or governmental, decision, so grasped
the idea of offense, nor, as a people, been so gripped by that idea, as
to correct the natural propensity to defense, and to give to defense and
offense their proper adjustment in national and military policy.
In these two well-known expressions, “Fortress Fleet” and “Fleet in
Being,” both current, and comparatively recent, we find ourselves
therefore confronting the two old divisions of warfare,—defensive and
offensive. We may expect these old friends to exhibit their well-known
qualities and limitations in action; but, having recognized them under
their new garb, we will also consider them under it, speaking not
directly of offensive and defensive, but of Fortress Fleet and Fleet in
Being, and endeavoring, first, to trace their influence in the Russian
conduct....
Why then was the fleet stationed in Port Arthur? Because, expecting the
Japanese attack to fall upon Port Arthur, the purpose of the Russian
authorities was not to use the fleet offensively against the enemy’s
navy, but defensively as a fortress fleet; defending the fortress by
defensive action, awaiting attack, not making it. That is, the function
of the fortress was conceived as defensive chiefly, and not as
offensive. Later, I hope to show that the purpose, the _raison d’être_,
of a coast fortress is in itself offensive; because it exists chiefly
for the purpose of sheltering a fleet, and keeping it fit to act
offensively. For the present, waiving the point, it will be sufficient
to note that the conception of the fleet by the Russians, that it should
act only in defense, led necessarily to imperfect action even in that
respect. The Port Arthur division virtually never acted offensively,
even locally. An observer on the spot says: “In the disposition of their
destroyers, the authorities did not seem disposed to give them a free
hand, or to allow them to take any chances.” And again, “The torpedo
boats were never sent out with the aim of attacking Japanese ships, or
transports. If out, and attacked, they fought, but they did not go out
for the purpose of attacking, although they would to cover an army
flank.” These two actions define the rôle indicated by the expression,
“Fortress Fleet.” The Japanese expressed surprise that no attempt by
scouting was made to ascertain their naval base, which was also the
landing place of their army; and, although the sinking of the two
battleships on May 15 was seen from Port Arthur, no effort was made to
improve such a moment of success, and of demoralization to the enemy,
although there were twenty-one destroyers at Port Arthur; sixteen of
which were under steam and outside. So, at the very last moment, the
fleet held on to its defensive rôle; going out only when already damaged
by enemy’s shells, and then not to fight but to fly.
It is a curious commentary upon this course of action, that, as far as
any accounts that have come under my eye show, the fleet contributed
nothing to the defense of the fortress beyond landing guns, and, as the
final death struggle approached, using their batteries in support of
those of the fortress; but the most extreme theorist would scarcely
advocate such an end as the object of maintaining a fleet. The same guns
would be better emplaced on shore. As far as defense went, the Russian
Port Arthur fleet might as well have been at Cronstadt throughout.
Indeed, better; for then it would have accompanied Rozhestvensky in
concentrated numbers, and the whole Russian navy there assembled, in
force far superior, would have been a threat to the Japanese command of
the sea much more effective, as a defense to Port Arthur, than was the
presence of part of that fleet in the port itself.
The Russian fleet in the Far East, assembled as to the main body in Port
Arthur, by its mere presence under the conditions announced that it was
there to serve the fortress, to which it was subsidiary. Concentrated at
Vladivostok, to one side of the theater of war, and flanking the enemy’s
line of communications to that which must be the chief scene of
operations, it would have been a clear evident declaration that the
fortress was subsidiary to the ships; that its chief value in the
national military scheme was to shelter, and to afford repairs, in
short, to maintain in efficiency, a body which meant to go out to fight,
and with a definite object. The hapless Rozhestvensky gave voice to this
fact in an expression which I have found attributed to him before the
fatal battle at Tsushima: that; if twenty only of the numbers under his
command reached Vladivostok, the Japanese communications would be
seriously endangered. This is clear “Fleet in Being” theory, and quite
undiluted; for it expresses the extreme view that the presence of a
strong force, even though inferior, near the scene of operations, will
produce a momentous effect upon the enemy’s action. The extreme school
has gone so far as to argue that it will stop an expedition; or should
do so, if the enemy be wise. I have for years contended against this
view as unsound; as shown to be so historically. Such a “fleet in
being,” inferior, should not be accepted by an enemy as a sufficient
deterrent under ordinary circumstances. It has not been in the past, and
the Japanese did not so accept it. The Russian “fleet in being,” in Port
Arthur, did not stop their transportation; although they recognized
danger from it, and consistently took every step in their power to
neutralize it. Their operations throughout were directed consistently to
this end. The first partially successful torpedo attack; the attempts to
block the harbor by sinking vessels; the distant bombardments; the mines
laid outside; and the early institution and persistence in the siege
operations,—all had but one end, the destruction of the fleet, in being,
within; but, for all that, that fleet did not arrest the transport of
the Japanese army.
These two simultaneous operations, the transport of troops despite the
fleet in being, and the persevering effort at the same time to destroy
it—or neutralize it—illustrate what I have called adjustment between
opposite considerations. The danger from the fleet in being is
recognized, but so also is the danger in delaying the initiation of the
land campaign. The Fleet in Being School would condemn the
transportation, so long as the Port Arthur fleet existed. It actually
did so condemn it. The London _Times_, which is, or then was, under the
influence of this school, published six weeks before the war began a
summary of the situation, by naval and military correspondents, in which
appears this statement: “With a hostile fleet behind the guns at Port
Arthur, the Japanese could hardly venture to send troops into the Yellow
Sea.” And again, four weeks later: “It is obvious that, until the
Russian ships are sunk, captured, or shut up in their ports with their
wings effectually clipped, there can be no security for the sea
communications of an expeditionary force.” These are just as clear
illustrations of the exaggeration inherent in the Fleet in Being theory,
which assumes the deterrent influence of an offensive threatened by
inferior force, as the conduct of the Russian naval operations was of
the inefficiency latent in their theory of Fortress Fleet.
If security meant the security of peace, these Fleet in Being statements
could be accepted; but military security is an entirely different thing;
and we know that, coincidently with the first torpedo attack, before its
result could be known, an expeditionary Japanese force was sent into the
Yellow Sea to Chemulpo, and that it rapidly received reinforcements to
the estimated number of fifty or sixty thousand. The enterprise in
Manchuria, the landing of troops west of the mouth of the Yalu, was
delayed for some time—two months, more or less. What the reason of that
delay, and what determined the moment of beginning, I do not know; but
we do know, not only that it was made in face of four Russian
battleships within Port Arthur, but that it continued in face of the
increase of their number to six by the repair of those damaged in the
first torpedo attack. As early as May 31, it was known in Tokyo that the
damaged ships were nearly ready for the sortie, which they actually made
on June 23.
It is doubtless open to say that, though the Japanese did thus venture,
they ought not to have done so. Note therefore that the Japanese were
perfectly alive to the risks run. From the first they were exceedingly
careful of their battleships, knowing that on them depended the
communications of their army. The fact was noted early in the war by
observers on the spot. This shows that they recognized the full menace
of all the conditions of the Russian fleet in Port Arthur, also of the
one in the Baltic, and of the danger to their communications.
Nevertheless, though realizing these various dangers from the hostile
“fleets in being,” they ventured.
About the middle of March, that is, six weeks after the war began, a
report, partly believed by the Japanese authorities, came in that the
Port Arthur ships had escaped in a snow storm, on March 11. It is
reported that all transportation of troops stopped for some ten days. It
may be remembered that in our war with Spain, a very similar report,
from two different and competent witnesses, arrested the movement of
Shafter’s army from Key West until it could be verified. In the case of
the Japanese, as in our own, the incident illustrates the possible
dangers from a “fleet in being.” In neither report was there an evident
impossibility. Had either proved true the momentary danger to
communications is evident; but the danger is one the chance of which has
to be taken. As Napoleon said, “War cannot be made without running
risks.” The condition that an enemy’s fleet watched in port may get out,
and may do damage, is entirely different from the fact that it has
gotten out. The possibility is not a sufficient reason for stopping
transportation; the actual fact is sufficient for taking particular
precautions, adjusting dispositions to the new conditions, as was done
by ourselves and by the Japanese in the circumstances. The case is
wholly different if the enemy has a fleet equal or superior; for then he
is entirely master of his movement, does not depend upon evasion for
keeping the sea, and communications in such case are in danger, not
merely of temporary disarrangement but of permanent destruction. No
special warning is needed to know this; the note of the “Fleet in Being”
School is insistence on the paralyzing effect of an _inferior_ fleet.
_Divided Forces_[103]
But among the most important lessons of this war—perhaps the most
important, as also one easily understood and which exemplifies a
principle of warfare of ageless application—is the inexpediency, the
terrible danger, of dividing the battle fleet, even in times of peace,
into fractions individually smaller than those of a possible enemy. The
Russian divisions at Port Arthur, at Vladivostok, and in the European
ports of Russia, if united, would in 1904 have outweighed decisively the
navy of Japan, which moreover could receive no increase during
hostilities. It would have been comparatively immaterial, as regards
effect upon the local field of operations, whether the ships were
assembled in the Baltic, in Vladivostok, or in Port Arthur. Present
together, the fleet thus constituted could not have been disregarded by
Japan without a risk transcending beyond comparison that caused by the
Port Arthur division alone, which the Japanese deliberately put out of
court. For, while they undertook, and successfully carried out, measures
which during a period of four months disabled it as a body menacing
their sea communications, they none the less before the torpedo attack
of February 8 had begun the movement of their army to the continent. It
is most improbable that they would have dared the same had the available
Russian navy been united. It would have mattered nothing that it was
frozen in in Vladivostok. The case of Japan would not have been better,
but worse, for having utilized the winter to cross her troops to the
mainland, if, when summer came, the enemy appeared in overwhelming naval
force. If Togo, in face of Rozhestvensky’s division alone, could signal
his fleet, “The salvation or the fall of the Empire depends upon the
result of this engagement,” how much more serious the situation had
there been with it the Port Arthur ships, which had handled his vessels
somewhat roughly the preceding August.
To an instructed, thoughtful, naval mind in the United States, there is
no contingency affecting the country, as interested in the navy, so
menacing as the fear of popular clamor influencing an irresolute, or
militarily ignorant, administration to divide the battleship force into
two divisions, the Atlantic and the Pacific. A determined President,
instructed in military matters, doubtless will not yield, but will
endeavor by explanation to appease apprehension and quiet outcry.
Nevertheless, the danger exists; and always will exist in proportion as
the people do not understand the simple principle that an efficient
military body depends for its effect in war—and in peace—less upon its
position than upon its concentrated force. This does not ignore
position, and its value. On the contrary, it is written with a clear
immediate recollection of Napoleon’s pregnant saying, “War is a business
of positions.” But the great captain, in the letter in which the phrase
occurs, goes on directly to instruct the marshal to whom he is writing
so to station the divisions of his corps, for purposes of supply, around
a common center, that they can unite rapidly; and can meet the enemy in
mass before he can attack any one of them, or move far from his present
position against another important French interest.
Concentration indeed, in last analysis, may be correctly defined as
being itself a choice of position; viz.: that the various corps, or
ships, shall not be some in one place, and some in others, but all in
one place. We Americans have luckily had an object lesson, not at our
own expense, but at that of an old friend. There is commonly believed to
have been little effective public opinion in Russia at the time the war
with Japan was at hand; such as did manifest itself, in the use of
dynamite against officials, seems not to have taken into consideration
international relations, military or other. But in the councils of the
Empire, however constituted, and whatever the weight of the military
element, there was shown in act an absolute disregard of principles so
simple, so obvious, and so continually enforced by precept and
experience, that the fact would be incomprehensible, had not we all
seen, in civil as in military life, that the soundest principles,
perfectly well known, fail, more frequently than not, to sustain conduct
against prepossession or inclination. That communications dominate
strategy, and that the communications of Japan in a continental war
would be by sea, were clear as daylight. That the whole navy of Russia,
united on the scene, would be sufficient, and half of it probably
insufficient, certainly hazardous, was equally plain. Yet, ship by ship,
half was assembled in the Far East, until Japan saw that this process of
division had been carried as far as suited her interests and declared
war; after which of course no Russian battleship could go forward alone.
From the military point of view the absurdity of the procedure is clear;
but for national safety it has to be equally clear to statesmen and to
people. An outside observer, with some little acquired knowledge of the
workings of men’s minds, needs small imagination to hear the arguments
at the Russian council board. “Things are looking squally in the East,”
says one; “the fleet ought to be increased.” “Increased,” says another,
“you may say so. All the ships we have ought to be sent, and together,
the instant they can be got ready.” “Oh but,” rejoins a third, “consider
how exposed our Baltic shores would be, in case war against us should be
declared by Great Britain, which already has an understanding with
Japan.” The obvious reply, that, in case Great Britain did declare war,
the only thing to be done with the Baltic fleet would be to snuggle it
close inside of the guns of Cronstadt, would probably be made; if it
was, it was not heeded. In a representative government would doubtless
have been heard the further remark, “The feeling in our coast towns, at
seeing no ship left for their protection, would be so strong, that I
doubt if the party could carry the next election.” Against this there is
no provision, except popular understanding; operative perhaps in the
interior, where there is no occasion for fright.
The most instructive feature of this Russian mistake, inexcusable in a
government not browbeaten by political turmoil, is that it was made in
time of peace, in the face of conditions threatening war. In fact, as is
often the case, when war came it was already too late to remedy
adequately the blunders or neglects of peace. More than twenty years ago
the present writer had occasion to quote emphatically the words of a
French author, “Naval Strategy”—naval strategic considerations—“is as
necessary in peace as in war.” In 1904, nearly a decade had elapsed
since Japan had been despoiled of much of her gains in her war with
China. Since then Russia had been pursuing a course of steady
aggression, in furtherance of her own aims, and contrary to what Japan
considered her “vital interests and national honor.” It is not necessary
to pronounce between the views of the two parties to see that the action
of Russia was militarily preposterous, unless her fleet grew in
proportion to that of Japan, and of her own purposes, and was kept in
hand; that is, kept concentrated. It would have mattered little whether,
being united, the outbreak of war found it in the Baltic, or in
Vladivostok. That it could come, as did Rozhestvensky, but in double his
force, would have been a fact no less emphatic when in the Baltic than
in the farther East.
It is precisely the same, in application as well as in principle, with
the Atlantic and Pacific coasts of the United States. Both are exposed.
Neither need be more exposed than the other; for, in virtue of our
geographical position relatively to the other great Powers of the world,
it is not the momentary location of the fleet, but its simple existence,
adequate in numbers and efficiency, and concentrated in force, which
protects both coasts. Any invader from the one side or the other must
depend upon sea communications to support his army _throughout the war_;
not merely for the three months needed to bring the United States fleet
from one side to the other. But, if the war begin with the fleet divided
between the two oceans, one half may be overmatched and destroyed, as
was that of Port Arthur; and the second on coming prove unequal to
restore the situation, as befell Rozhestvensky. That is to say,
Concentration protects both coasts, Division exposes both. IT IS OF
VITAL CONSEQUENCE TO THE NATION OF THE UNITED STATES, THAT ITS PEOPLE,
CONTEMPLATING THE RUSSO-JAPANESE NAVAL WAR, SUBSTITUTE THEREIN, IN THEIR
APPREHENSION, ATLANTIC FOR BALTIC, AND PACIFIC FOR PORT ARTHUR. So they
will comprehend as well as apprehend.
30. ROZHESTVENSKY AT TSUSHIMA[104]
[The Russian fleet under Rozhestvensky left Libau October 15, 1904;
reached Madagascar January 1, 1905, the day of the surrender of Port
Arthur; and entered the Korea or Tsushima Straits on the morning of May
26. A part of the auxiliaries had been left in the mouth of the Yang-tse
River, but the hospital and repair ships and those laden with naval
stores were with the fleet. According to testimony at the court martial
of Admiral Rozhestvensky, the battleships entered the straits with coal
for three thousand miles, though the distance from the Saddle Islands to
Vladivostok was but nine hundred.—EDITOR.]
Criticism here is another case of inferring intentions from actions;
but, when the various parts of Rozhestvensky’s conduct are taken
together, the inference is nearly irresistible that the exaggerated
estimate of the influence of an inferior fleet in being possessed his
imagination. Besides the excessive coal stowage, he took with him a
train of transports, a notorious source of tactical embarrassment in
battle, though doubtless equally a source of refitment, if he got them
to Vladivostok; and there is no evidence of any attempt at advanced
scouting on his own part, or of driving off, as he might have done, the
Japanese scouts which showed up; the result being that Togo knew all
about his dispositions, and he knew nothing about Togo’s until he saw
the enemy’s main body.
Now I say, that, while all this was bad management in the face of the
enemy, and in so far bad tactics, the bad tactics issued from an error
of strategy; and the error in strategy was due to the lack of unity of
conception, of that exclusiveness of purpose, which is the essence of
strategy, and which subordinates, adjusts, all other factors and
considerations to the one exclusive aim. While writing these pages, I
came across a few lines by one of the first of German philosophical
historians, Ranke, in one of his greatest works, “England in the
Seventeenth Century.” They apply to policy, but policy is twin brother
to strategy. Permit me to quote them:
“Why did William III get the better of James II in Ireland? Because he
always kept his one great idea before his eyes, amid the many perplexing
circumstances, which surrounded him. The decision which he displayed at
every moment rested upon the fact that he had _only one end_, and that
the one _imposed by the course of things_.”
[Illustration: SCENE OF NAVAL WAR JAPAN AND RUSSIA]
Apply this to Rozhestvensky. The one end imposed on him by the course of
things was the destruction of the Japanese fleet, which comprised every
armored vessel Japan could possibly muster for that war. Togo’s
signal[105] before the battle recognized this one end, and there was no
reason why his opponent should not have recognized it equally. To reach
Vladivostok was only a means to that end; an object most important,
because, if attained, it would put the Russians in the best possible
condition for battle. But this by no means superseded the one necessary
aim,—battle. More, it did not even postpone that aim, as a matter of
immediate consideration and preparation; for, though escape through to
Vladivostok might be possible, it was not certain. It was not even
probable, under all the conditions. Therefore, while every forethought
and care should have been to effect escape, if possible, they should
have been accompanied with the clear decision that, should battle be
forced, the fighting should have been qualified by no thought of escape,
and the fleet, like a ship cleared for action, should have been stripped
of all fleet encumbrances from the moment of leaving the Saddles. A
fleet is half beaten already when it goes into battle with one eye upon
something else than fighting.
If Rozhestvensky had recognized these facts, in their due importance and
proportion, and had been convinced that battle was his one aim, and that
there was at least a very real possibility that he could not postpone it
till after Vladivostok, it seems to me he must have reasoned thus: I
must have coal enough to reach Vladivostok, on a reasonable calculation
of the distance, and of the expenditures of the ships; both which were
known. To this amount add a fair margin of safety. This total should be
carried for the purpose of escape, if feasible; with perhaps an addition
sufficient to last during battle, with funnels pierced, which was a
likely accident. Again, there is for each ship a draft of water which
best meets her maneuvering needs. The chances are that the enemy will
await us either in the narrower part of the sea, or near his navy yards.
As there is one position, that in the Straits of Korea, which favors
both these objects, it is there I will probably have to fight, if at
all. Therefore, as far as possible, the coal carried by the fleet on
starting should be such that consumption up to the moment of reaching
the straits will put them in their best tactical trim. The coal supply
needed to reach Vladivostok is thus adjusted to the exigencies of
battle.
Then as regards the transports. For the moment, on this last fateful
stretch, they are absolutely of no consequence as affecting results. The
adjustment of them, to the end of the battle, is to dismiss them out of
mind and presence. If beaten, the loss of them will not be of the
slightest consequence to Russia; if successful, they can be summoned
from an appointed rendezvous, and escorted to a destination under such
protection as may then seem expedient. An Austrian officer has suggested
that if the whole body had weighed together, and at night had separated,
the supply vessels proceeding under convoy by the east of Japan might
have escaped notice; or, if seen, this report might have perplexed Togo,
rather than enlightened him. Upon the suggestion I make no comment,
other than that it would have been one way of counting out the supply
ships.
The imminency of the occasion should have drawn, and did draw, all
Japan’s fighting force to the Straits of Korea, an element for
Rozhestvensky’s consideration. According to Semenoff the auxiliary
steamers _Terek_ and _Kuban_ were sent off the east coast expressly to
draw attention, but met no one, and their presence was unknown to the
Japanese.
I am not disposed to question, or to doubt, that _if_ the Russian
squadron had escaped Togo, and _if_ the separated supply train had been
intercepted, it would have been very embarrassing to the ships of war
refitting at Vladivostok. Nor do I question that, in case of such
escape, the coal remaining in consequence of the deck loads taken would
have been of much value for future operations. The more real and the
greater those distracting considerations, like those of William III in
Ireland, the more do they throw into relief the greatness, as well as
the necessity, of subordinating them to the one thing needful, namely,
to be ready to the utmost on the day of battle. They illustrate, too,
how misleading is the disposition to compromise, to concede something
all around; to straddle the two horses, escape and battle.
Rozhestvensky’s course was a compromise, a mix-up of escape and
fighting; a strategic blunder to begin with, in not concentrating
attention on the one needful thing clearly indicated by the course of
events, and hence resulting necessarily in a series of blunders, which
comprehensively may be called tactical. They all hang together, as the
results of a frame of mind; the overloading with coal, the increased
danger of fire therefrom, the submersion of the armor belts, the loss of
speed and tactical capacity, the neglect of scouting, the company of the
transports,—each of which is a tactical error,—all proceed from the
failure to observe that the one governing consideration of strategy, in
this war, was a naval battle under the most favorable conditions. It is
the repetition of the mistakes of the Port Arthur division. When it
becomes clearly imminent that one may have to fight under conditions
less favorable than one would desire, conditions are changed; but there
is no change of the principles involved. Vladivostok reached, the
principle would have required the utmost preparation the yard offered,
in the least possible time, so as to be the most fit possible to fight.
At the Saddles, the same fitness required the dismissal from influence
upon conduct of all thought of Vladivostok, and of supplies there, so
far as such thought might modify the preparation for probable battle. It
seems very probable that the defective conceptions deducible from
Rozhestvensky’s conduct were emphasized and reinforced by the heavy
preoccupations about supplies, necessarily incidental to his anxious
outward voyage. His mind and _morale_ had got a twist, a permanent set,
from which they could not recover.
PART III
NAVAL AND NATIONAL POLICIES
31. EXPANSION AND OVER-SEA BASES[106]
_The Annexation of Hawaii_
[As the date indicates, the essay was written at the time of the
Revolution in Hawaii, six years before its annexation. The part of the
essay preceding points out the predominant interest of the United States
in the Islands owing to their control of our trade routes and naval
approaches, and refers to the benefit to the world from British colonial
expansion.—EDITOR.]
But if a plea of the world’s welfare seem suspiciously like a cloak for
national self-interest, let the latter be accepted frankly as the
adequate motive which it assuredly is. Let us not shrink from pitting a
broad self-interest against the narrow self-interest to which some would
restrict us. The demands of our three great seaboards, the Atlantic, the
Gulf, and the Pacific,—each for itself, and all for the strength that
comes from drawing closer the ties between them,—are calling for the
extension, through the Isthmian Canal, of that broad sea common along
which, and along which alone, in all the ages prosperity has moved. Land
carriage, always restricted and therefore always slow, toils enviously
but hopelessly behind, vainly seeking to replace and supplant the royal
highway of nature’s own making. Corporate interests, vigorous in that
power of concentration which is the strength of armies and of
minorities, may here withstand for a while the ill-organized strivings
of the multitude, only dimly conscious of its wants; yet the latter,
however temporarily opposed and baffled, is sure at last, like the blind
forces of nature, to overwhelm all that stand in the way of its
necessary progress. So the Isthmian Canal is an inevitable part in the
future of the United States; yet one that cannot be separated from other
necessary incidents of a policy dependent upon it, whose details cannot
be foreseen exactly. But because the precise steps that hereafter may be
opportune or necessary cannot yet be foretold certainly, is not a reason
the less, but a reason the more, for establishing a principle of action
which may serve to guide as opportunities arise. Let us start from the
fundamental truth, warranted by history, that the control of the seas,
and especially along the great lines drawn by national interest or
national commerce, is the chief among the merely material elements in
the power and prosperity of nations. It is so because the sea is the
world’s great medium of circulation. From this necessarily follows the
principle that, as subsidiary to such control, it is imperative to take
possession, when it can be done righteously, of such maritime positions
as contribute to secure command. If this principle be adopted, there
will be no hesitation about taking the positions—and they are many—upon
the approaches to the Isthmus, whose interests incline them to seek us.
It has its application also to the present case of Hawaii.
There is, however, one caution to be given from the military point of
view, beyond the need of which the world has not yet passed. Military
positions, fortified posts, by land or by sea, however strong or
admirably situated, do not confer control by themselves alone. People
often say that such an island or harbor will give control of such a body
of water. It is an utter, deplorable, ruinous mistake. The phrase indeed
may be used by some only loosely, without forgetting other implied
conditions of adequate protection and adequate navies; but the
confidence of our own nation in its native strength, and its
indifference to the defense of its ports and the sufficiency of its
fleet, give reason to fear that the full consequences of a forward step
may not be weighed soberly. Napoleon, who knew better, once talked this
way. “The islands of San Pietro, Corfu, and Malta,” he wrote, “will make
us masters of the whole Mediterranean.” Vain boast! Within one year
Corfu, in two years Malta, were rent away from the state that could not
support them by its ships. Nay, more: had Bonaparte not taken the latter
stronghold out of the hands of its degenerate but innocuous government,
that citadel of the Mediterranean would perhaps—would probably—never
have passed into those of his chief enemy. There is here also a lesson
for us.
32. APPLICATION OF THE MONROE DOCTRINE[107]
_Anglo-American Community of Interests_
The writer has too often already discussed, directly or incidentally,
the strategic situation which finds its center in Panama to repeat the
same here; but one or two remarks about the Monroe doctrine may be not
out of place. Accepting as probably durable the new conditions, which
have so largely modified the nation’s external policy in the direction
of expansion, there is in them nothing to diminish, but rather to
intensify, the purpose that there shall be no intrusion of the European
political system upon territory whence military effect upon the Isthmus
of Panama can be readily exerted. For instance, should a change
anticipated by some occur, and Holland enter the German Empire, it will
be advantageous that it should even now be understood, as it then would
be necessary for us to say, that our consent could not be given to
Curaçao forming part of that incorporation. The Isthmus of Panama—in
addition to its special importance to us as a link between our Pacific
and Atlantic coasts—sums up in itself that one of the two great lines of
communication between the Atlantic and the farther East which especially
concerns us, and we can no more consent to such a transfer of a fortress
in the Caribbean, than we would ourselves have thought of acquiring Port
Mahon, in the Mediterranean, as a result of our successful war with
Spain.
Consideration of interests such as these must be dispassionate upon the
one side and upon the other; and a perfectly candid reception must be
accorded to the views and the necessities of those with whom we thus
deal. During the process of deliberation not merely must preconceptions
be discarded, but sentiment itself should be laid aside, to resume its
sway only after unbiassed judgment has done its work. The present
question of Asia, the evolution of which has taken days rather than
years, may entail among its results no change in old maxims, but it
nevertheless calls for a review of them in the light of present facts.
If from this no difference of attitude results, the confirmed resolve of
sober second thought will in itself alone be a national gain. This new
Eastern question has greatly affected the importance of communications,
enhancing that of the shorter routes, reversing political and
military,—as distinguished from mercantile—conditions, and bringing
again into the foreground of interest the Mediterranean, thus reinvested
with its ancient pre-eminence. For the same reason the Caribbean Sea,
because of its effect upon the Isthmus of Panama, attains a position it
has never before held, emphasizing the application to it of the Monroe
doctrine. The Pacific has advanced manifold in consequence to the United
States, not only as an opening market, but as a means of transit, and
also because our new possessions there, by giving increased
opportunities, entail correspondingly heavier burdens of national
responsibility. The isthmian canals, present and to come,—Suez and
Panama,—summarize and locally accentuate the essential character of
these changes, of which they are at once an exponent and a factor. It
will be no light matter that man shall have shifted the Strait of
Magellan to the Isthmus of Panama, and the Cape of Good Hope to the head
of the Mediterranean.
The correlative of these new conditions is the comparative isolation,
and the dwindled consequence, of the southern extremes of Africa and
America, which now lie far apart from the changed direction imposed upon
the world’s policies. The regions there situated will have small effect
upon the great lines of travel, and must derive such importance as may
remain to them from their intrinsic productive value. Does there, then,
remain sound reason of national interest for pressing the Monroe
doctrine to the extent of guaranteeing our support to American states
which love us not, and whose geographical position, south of the valley
of the Amazon, lies outside of effective influence upon the American
isthmus? Does the disposition to do so arise from sound policy, or from
sentiment, or from mere habit? And, if from either, do the facts justify
retaining a burden of responsibility which may embarrass our effective
action in fields of greater national consequence—just as South Africa
may prove a drain upon Great Britain’s necessary force about Suez? In
short, while the principles upon which the Monroe doctrine reposes are
not only unimpaired, but fortified, by recent changes, is it not
possible that the application of them may require modification,
intensifying their force in one quarter, diminishing it in another?
Not the least striking and important of the conditions brought about by
the two contemporary events—the downfall of the Spanish colonial empire
and the precipitation of the crisis in eastern Asia—has been the drawing
closer together of the two great English-speaking nationalities. Despite
recalcitrant objections here and there by unwilling elements on both
sides, the fact remains concrete and apparent, endued with essential
life, and consequent inevitable growth, by virtue of a clearly
recognized community of interest, present and future. It is no mere
sentimental phase, though sentiment, long quietly growing, had
sufficiently matured to contribute its powerful influence at the
opportune moment; but here, as ever, there was first the
material,—identity of interest,—and not till afterwards the
spiritual,—reciprocity of feeling,—aroused to mutual recognition by the
causes and motives of the Spanish war. That war, and the occurrences
attendant, proclaimed emphatically that the two countries, in their
ideals of duty to the suffering and oppressed, stood together, indeed,
but in comparative isolation from the sympathies of the rest of the
world.[108]
The significance of this fact has been accentuated by the precision with
which in the United States the preponderance of intelligence has
discerned, and amid many superficially confusing details has kept in
mind, as the reasonable guide to its sympathies, that the war in the
Transvaal is simply a belated revival of the issue on which our own
Revolution was fought, viz., that when representation is denied,
taxation is violent oppression. The principle is common to Great Britain
and to us, woven into the web of all her history, despite the momentary
aberration which led to our revolt. The twofold incident—the two wars
and the sympathies aroused, because in both each nation recognized
community of principle and of ideals—indicates another great
approximation to the unity of mankind; which will arrive in good time,
but which is not to be hurried by force or by the impatience of
dreamers. The outcome of the civil war in the United States, the
unification of Italy, the new German Empire, the growing strength of the
idea of Imperial Federation in Great Britain, all illustrate the
tendency of humanity to aggregate into greater groups, which in the
instances cited have resulted in political combination more or less
formal and clearly defined. To the impulse and establishment of each of
these steps in advance, war has played a principal part. War it was
which preserved our Union. War it was which completed the political
unity of Italy, and brought the Germans into that accord of sentiment
and of recognized interest upon which rest the foundations and the
continuance of their empire. War it is which has but now quickened the
spirit of sympathy between Great Britain and her colonies, and given to
Imperial Federation an acceleration into concrete action which could not
otherwise have been imparted; and it needed the stress of war, the
threat of outside interference with a sister nation in its mission of
benevolence, to quicken into positive action the sympathy of Great
Britain with the United States, and to dispose the latter to welcome
gladly and to return cordially the invaluable support thus offered.
War is assuredly a very great evil; not the greatest, but among the
greatest which afflict humanity. Yet let it be recognized at this
moment, when the word “Arbitration” has hold of popular imagination,
more perhaps by the melody of its associations,—like the “Mesopotamia”
of the preacher,—than by virtue of a reasonable consideration of both
sides of the question, of which it represents only one, that within two
years two wars have arisen, the righteous object of either of which has
been unattainable by milder methods. When the United States went to war
with Spain, four hundred thousand of the latter’s colonial subjects had
lost their lives by the slow misery of starvation, inflicted by a
measure—Reconcentration—which was intended, but had proved inadequate,
to suppress an insurrection incited by centuries of oppression and by
repeated broken pledges. The justification of that war rests upon our
right to interfere on grounds of simple humanity, and upon the
demonstrated inability of Spain to rule her distant colonies by methods
unharmful to the governed. It was impossible to accept renewed promises,
not necessarily through distrust of their honesty, but because political
incapacity to give just and good administration had been proved by
repeated failures.
The justification of Great Britain’s war with the Transvaal rests upon a
like right of interference—to relieve oppression—and upon the broad
general principle for which our colonial ancestors fought the
mother-country over a century ago, that “taxation without representation
is tyranny.” Great Britain, indeed, did not demand the franchise for her
misgoverned subjects, domiciled abroad; she only suggested it as a means
whereby they might, in return for producing nine tenths of the revenue,
obtain fair treatment from the state which was denying it to them. But
be it remembered, not only that a cardinal principle upon which English
and American liberty rests was being violated, but that at the time when
the foreigners were encouraged to enter the Transvaal franchise was
attainable by law in five years, while before the five years had expired
the law was changed, and the privilege withdrawn by _ex post facto_ act.
In each of these wars one of the two nations which speak the English
tongue has taken a part, and in each the one engaged has had outspoken
sympathy from the other, and from the other alone. The fact has been
less evident in the Transvaal war, partly because the issue has been
less clear, or less clearly put, chiefly because many foreign-born
citizens of the United States still carry with them the prepossessions
of their birthplace, rather than those which should arise from
perception of their country’s interest.
Nevertheless, the foundations stand sure. We have begun to know each
other, in community of interest and of traditions, in ideals of equality
and of law. As the realization of this spreads, the two states, in their
various communities, will more and more closely draw together in the
unity of spirit, and all the surer that they eschew the bondage of the
letter of alliance.
33. CHANGES IN THE UNITED STATES AND JAPAN[109]
The occidentalization of Japan, in methods although not in national
spirit,—which changes much more slowly,—has been fully demonstrated to
an astonished world by the war of 1894 with China. It is one of the
incidents of the closing nineteenth century. To this achievement in the
military sphere, in the practice of war which Napoleon called the
science of barbarians, must be added the development of civil
institutions that has resulted in the concession to Japan of all
international dignity and privilege; and consequently of a control over
the administration of justice among foreigners within her borders, not
heretofore obtained by any other Oriental State. It has thus become
evident that the weight of Japan in the international balances depends
not upon the quality of her achievement, which has been shown to be
excellent, but upon the gross amount of her power. Moreover, while in
wealth and population, with the resources dependent upon them, she may
be deficient,—though rapidly growing,—her geographical position
relatively to the Eastern center of interest, and her advantage of
insularity, go far to compensate such defect. These confer upon her as a
factor in the Eastern problem an influence resembling in kind, if not
equaling in degree, that which Great Britain has held and still holds in
the international relations centering around Europe, the Atlantic, and
the Mediterranean.
Yet the change in Japan, significant as it is and influential upon the
great problem of the Pacific and Asia, is less remarkable and less
important than that which has occurred in the United States. If in the
Orient a nation may be said to have been born in a day, even so the
event is less sudden and less revolutionary than the conversion of
spirit and of ideals—the new birth—which has come over our own country.
In this are evident a rapidity and a thoroughness which bespeak impulse
from an external source rather than any conscious set process of
deliberation, of self-determination within, such as has been that of
Japan in her recognition and adoption of material improvements forced
upon her attention in other peoples. No man or group of men can pretend
to have guided and governed our people in the adoption of a new policy,
the acceptance of which has been rather instinctive—I would prefer to
say inspired—than reasoned. There is just this difference between Japan
and ourselves, the two most changed of peoples within the last
half-century. She has adopted other methods; we have received another
purpose. The one conversion is material, the other spiritual. When we
talk about expansion we are in the realm of ideas. The material addition
of expansion—the acreage, if I may so say—is trivial compared with our
previous possessions, or with the annexations by European states within
a few years. The material profit otherwise, the national gain to us, is
at best doubtful. What the nation has gained in expansion is a
regenerating idea, an uplifting of the heart, a seed of future
beneficent activity, a going out of self into the world to communicate
the gift it has so bountifully received.
34. OUR INTERESTS IN THE PACIFIC[110]
[The preceding pages of the essay explain the dependence of the “Open
Door” policy on an international balance of power in the Pacific, and
the modification of this balance owing to the growth of the German Navy
and the increasing European tension.—EDITOR.]
The result is to leave the two chief Pacific nations, the United States
and Japan, whose are the only two great navies that have coastlines on
that ocean, to represent there the balance of power. This is the best
security for international peace; because it represents, not a bargain,
but a fact, readily ascertainable. Those two navies are more easily able
than any other to maintain there a concentration of force; and it may
even be questioned whether sound military policy may not make the
Pacific rather than the Atlantic the station for the United States
battle fleet. For the balance of naval power in Europe, which compels
the retention of the British and German fleets in the North Sea,
protects the Atlantic coast of the United States,—and the Monroe
Doctrine,—to a degree to which nothing in Pacific conditions
corresponds. Under existing circumstances, neither Germany nor Great
Britain can afford, even did they desire, to infringe the external
policy of the United States represented in the Monroe Doctrine.
With Japan in the Pacific, and in her attitude towards the Open Door,
the case is very different from that of European or American Powers. Her
nearness to China, Manchuria, Korea, gives the natural commercial
advantages that short and rapid transportation always confers. Labor
with her is still cheap, another advantage in open competition; but the
very fact of these near natural markets, and her interest in them,
cannot but breed that sense of proprietorship which, in dealing with
ill-organized states, easily glides into the attempt at political
control that ultimately means control by force. Hence the frequent
reports, true or untrue, that such advantage is sought and accomplished.
Whether true or not, these illustrate what nations continually seek,
when opportunity offers or can be made. This is in strict line with that
which we call Protection; but with the difference that Protection is
exercised within the sphere commonly recognized as legitimate, either by
International Law or by the policy of competing states. The mingled
weakness and perverseness of Chinese negotiators invite such attempt,
and endanger the Open Door; give rise to continual suspicion that undue
influence resting upon force is affecting equality of treatment, or is
establishing a basis for inequality in the future. There can be no
question that the general recent attitude of Russia and Japan, however
laudably meant, does arouse such suspicions.
Then again, the American possession, the Hawaiian Islands, are
predominantly Japanese in labor population; a condition which, as the
outcome of little more than a generation, warrants the jealousy of
Japanese immigration on the part of the Pacific coast. Finally, the
population of that coast is relatively scanty, and its communications
with the East, though rapid for express trains, are slow for the immense
traffic of men and stores which war implies and requires. That is, the
power of the country east of the Rocky Mountains has far to go, and with
poor conveyance, in order to reinforce the Western Coast; the exact
opposite of our advantage of rapid maritime access to the Panama Canal.
In the absence of the fleet, invasion may be easy. Harm may be retrieved
in measure by the arrival of the fleet later; but under present world
conditions the Pacific coast seems incomparably the more exposed of the
three great divisions of the American shore line—the Atlantic, the Gulf,
and the Pacific.
35. THE GERMAN STATE AND ITS MENACE[111]
The prototype of modern Germany is to be found rather in the Roman
Empire, to which in a certain sense the present German Empire may be
said to be—if not heir—at least historically affiliated. The Holy Roman
Empire merged into that somewhat extenuated figment attached to the
Austrian Hapsburgs, which finally deceased at the opening of the
nineteenth century; but the idea itself survived, and was influential in
determining the form and name which the existing powerful Germanic unity
has assumed. To this unity the national German character contributes an
element not unlike that of antiquity, in the subordination of the
individual to the state. As a matter of national characteristic, this
differs radically from the more modern conception of the freedom and
rights of the individual, exemplified chiefly in England and the United
States. It is possible to accept the latter as the superior ideal, as a
higher stage of advance, as ultimately more fruitful of political
progress, yet at the same time to recognize the great immediate
advantage of the massed action which subordinates the interests of the
individual, sinks the unit in the whole, in order to promote the
interests of the community. It may be noted incidentally, without
further insistence just here, that the Japanese Empire, which in a
different field from the German is manifesting the same restless need
for self-assertion and expansion, comes to its present with the same
inheritance from its past, of the submergence of the individual in the
mass. It was equally the characteristic of Sparta among the city states
of ancient Greece, and gave to her among them the preponderance she for
a time possessed. As an exhibition of social development, it is
generally anterior and inferior to that in which the rights of the
individual are more fully recognized; but as an element of mere force,
whether in economics or in international policies, it is superior.
The two contrasted conceptions, the claims of the individual and the
claims of the state, are familiar to all students of history. The two
undoubtedly must coexist everywhere, and have to be reconciled; but the
nature of the adjustment, in the clear predominance of the one or the
other, constitutes a difference which in effect upon the particular
community is fundamental. In international relations, between states
representing the opposing ideas, it reproduces the contrast between the
simple discipline of an army and the complicated disseminated activities
of the people, industrial, agricultural, and commercial. It repeats the
struggle of the many minor mercantile firms against a single great
combination. In either field, whatever the ultimate issue,—and in the
end the many will prevail,—the immediate result is that preponderant
concentrated force has its way for a period which may thus be one of
great and needless distress; and it not only has its way, but it takes
its way, because, whatever progress the world has made, the stage has
not been reached when men or states willingly subordinate their own
interests to even a reasonable regard for that of others. It is not
necessary to indulge in pessimistic apprehension, or to deny that there
is a real progress of the moral forces lumped under the name of “public
opinion.” This unquestionably tells for much more than it once did; but
still the old predatory instinct, that he should take who has the power,
survives, in industry and commerce, as well as in war, and moral force
is not sufficient to determine issues unless supported by physical.
Governments are corporations, and corporations have not souls.
Governments moreover are trustees, not principals; and as such must put
first the lawful interests of their wards, their own people.
It matters little what may be the particular intentions now cherished by
the German government. The fact upon which the contemporary world needs
to fasten its attention is that it is confronted by the simple existence
of a power such as is that of the German Empire; reinforced necessarily
by that of Austria-Hungary, because, whatever her internal troubles and
external ambitions, Austria is bound to Germany by nearness, by inferior
power, and by interests, partly common to the two states, as surely as
the moon is bound to the earth and with it constitutes a single group in
the planetary system. Over against this stands for the moment a number
of states, Russia, Italy, France, Great Britain. The recent action of
Russia has demonstrated her international weakness, the internal causes
of which are evident even to the most careless observer. Italy still
belongs to the Triple Alliance, of which Germany and Austria are the
other members; but the inclination of Italy towards England, springing
from past sympathies, and as a state necessarily naval, because partly
insular, partly peninsular, is known, as is also her recent drawing
towards France as compared with former estrangement. Also, in the Balkan
regions and in the Adriatic Sea there is more than divergence between
the interest of Italy and the ambitions of Austria,—supported by
Germany,—as shown in the late annexations and their antecedents. An
Austrian journal, which fore-shadowed the annexations with singular
acumen, has written recently,[112] “We most urgently need a fleet so
strong that it can rule the Northern Adriatic basin,”—in which lies the
Italian Venice, as well as the Austrian Trieste,—“support the operations
of our land army, protect our chief commercial ports against hostile
maritime undertakings, and prevent us from being throttled at the Strait
of Otranto. To do this, the fleet must at least attain the approximate
strength of our probable enemy. If we lag behind in developing our naval
programme, Italy will so outrun us that we can never overtake her. Here
more than elsewhere to stand still is to recede; but to recede would be
to renounce the historical mission of Austria.” The Austrian
_Dreadnoughts_ are proceeding, and the above throws an interesting side
light upon the equipoise of the Triple Alliance. In the Algeciras
Conference, concerning the affairs of Morocco, Italy did not sustain
Germany; Austria only did so.
Analyzing thus the present international relations of Europe, we find on
the one side the recently constituted Triple _Entente_, France, Great
Britain, and Russia; on the other the Triple Alliance, Austria-Hungary,
Germany, and Italy, of thirty years’ standing. The sympathies of Italy,
as distinguished from the pressure of conditions upon her, and from her
formal association, are doubtful; and the essentials of the situation
seem to be summed up in the Triple _Entente_ opposed by the two
mid-Europe military monarchies.
_The Bulwark of British Sea Power_[113]
[The intervening pages show that exposure on their land frontiers would
weaken the aid that could be given Great Britain by her allies in
continental Europe.—EDITOR.]
These conclusions, if reasonable, not only emphasize the paramount
importance in world politics of the British navy, but they show also
that there are only two naval states which can afford to help Great
Britain with naval force, because they alone have no land frontiers
which march with those of Germany. These states are Japan and the United
States. In looking to the future, it becomes for them a question whether
it will be to their interest, whether they can afford, to exchange the
naval supremacy of Great Britain for that of Germany; for this
alternative may arise. Those two states and Germany cannot, as matters
now stand, touch one another, except on the open sea; whereas the
character of the British Empire is such that it has everywhere sea
frontiers, is everywhere assailable where local naval superiority does
not exist, as for instance in Australia, and other Eastern possessions.
The United States has upon Great Britain the further check of Canada,
open to land attack.
A German navy, supreme by the fall of Great Britain, with a supreme
German army able to spare readily a large expeditionary force for
over-sea operations, is one of the possibilities of the future. Great
Britain for long periods, in the Seven Years War and Napoleonic
struggle, 1756–1815, has been able to do, and has done, just this; not
because she has had a supreme army, but because, thanks to her insular
situation, her naval supremacy covered effectually both the home
positions and the expedition. The future ability of Germany thus to act
is emphasized to the point of probability by the budgetary difficulties
of Great Britain, by the general disorganization of Russia, and by the
arrest of population in France. Though vastly the richer nation, the
people of Great Britain, for the very reason of greater wealth long
enjoyed, are not habituated to the economical endurance of the German;
nor can the habits of individual liberty in England or America accept,
unless under duress, the heavy yoke of organization, of regulation of
individual action, which constitutes the power of Germany among modern
states.
The rivalry between Germany and Great Britain to-day is the danger
point, not only of European politics, but of world politics as well.
36. ADVANTAGES OF INSULAR POSITION[114]
_Great Britain and the Continental Powers_
Every war has two aspects, the defensive and the offensive, to each of
which there is a corresponding factor of activity. There is something to
gain, the offensive; there is something to lose, the defensive. The ears
of men, especially of the uninstructed, are more readily and
sympathetically open to the demands of the latter. It appeals to the
conservatism which is dominant in the well-to-do, and to the widespread
timidity which hesitates to take any risk for the sake of a probable
though uncertain gain. The sentiment is entirely respectable in itself,
and more than respectable when its power is exercised against breach of
the peace for other than the gravest motives—for any mere lucre of gain.
But its limitations must be understood. A sound defensive scheme,
sustaining the bases of the national force, is the foundation upon which
war rests; but who lays a foundation without intending a superstructure?
The offensive element in warfare is the superstructure, the end and aim
for which the defensive exists, and apart from which it is to all
purposes of war worse than useless. When war has been accepted as
necessary, success means nothing short of victory; and victory must be
sought by offensive measures, and by them only can be ensured. “Being
in, bear it, that the opposer may be ware of thee.” No mere defensive
attitude or action avails to such end. Whatever the particular mode of
offensive action adopted, whether it be direct military attack, or the
national exhaustion of the opponent by cutting off the sources of
national well-being, whatsoever method may be chosen, offense, injury,
weakening of the foe, to annihilation if need be, must be the guiding
purpose of the belligerent. Success will certainly attend him who drives
his adversary into the position of the defensive and keeps him there.
Offense therefore dominates, but it does not exclude. The necessity for
defense remains obligatory, though subordinate. The two are
complementary. It is only in the reversal of _rôles_, by which priority
of importance is assigned to the defensive, that ultimate defeat is
involved. Nor is this all. Though opposed in idea and separable in
method of action, circumstances not infrequently have permitted the
union of the two in a single general plan of campaign, which protects at
the same time that it attacks. “Fitz James’s blade was sword and
shield.” Of this the system of blockades by the British Navy during the
Napoleonic wars was a marked example. Thrust up against the ports of
France, and lining her coasts, they covered—shielded—the operations of
their own commerce and cruisers in every sea; while at the same time,
crossing swords, as it were, with the fleets within, ever on guard,
ready to attack, should the enemy give an opening by quitting the
shelter of his ports, they frustrated his efforts at a combination of
his squadrons by which alone he could hope to reverse conditions. All
this was defensive; but the same operation cut the sinews of the enemy’s
power by depriving him of sea-borne commerce, and promoted the reduction
of his colonies. Both these were measures of offense; and both, it may
be added, were directed upon the national communications, the sources of
national well-being. The means was one, the effect twofold....
[It is shown that, in the case of insular states, offense and defense
are often closely combined, home security depending on control of the
sea assured by offensive action of the national fleet.—EDITOR.]
An insular state, which alone can be purely maritime, therefore
contemplates war from a position of antecedent probable superiority from
the twofold concentration of its policy; defense and offense being
closely identified, and energy, if exerted judiciously, being fixed upon
the increase of naval force to the clear subordination of that more
narrowly styled military. The conditions tend to minimize the division
of effort between offensive and defensive, purpose, and, by greater
comparative development of the fleet, to supply a larger margin of
disposable numbers in order to constitute a mobile superiority at a
particular point of the general field. Such a decisive local superiority
at the critical point of action is the chief end of the military art,
alike in tactics and strategy. Hence it is clear that an insular state,
if attentive to the conditions that should dictate its policy, is
inevitably led to possess a superiority in that particular kind of
force, the mobility of which enables it most readily to project its
power to the more distant quarters of the earth, and also to change its
point of application at will with unequalled rapidity.
The general considerations that have been advanced concern all the great
European nations, in so far as they look outside their own continent,
and to maritime expansion, for the extension of national influence and
power; but the effect upon the action of each differs necessarily
according to their several conditions. The problem of sea-defense, for
instance, relates primarily to the protection of the national commerce
everywhere, and specifically as it draws near the home ports; serious
attack upon the coast, or upon the ports themselves, being a secondary
consideration, because little likely to befall a nation able to extend
its power far enough to sea to protect its merchant ships. From this
point of view the position of Germany is embarrassed at once by the fact
that she has, as regards the world at large, but one coast-line. To and
from this all her sea commerce must go; either passing the English
Channel, flanked for three hundred miles by France on the one side and
England on the other, or else going north about by the Orkneys, a most
inconvenient circuit, and obtaining but imperfect shelter from recourse
to this deflected route. Holland, in her ancient wars with England, when
the two were fairly matched in point of numbers, had dire experience of
this false position, though her navy was little inferior in numbers to
that of her opponent. This is another exemplification of the truth that
distance is a factor equivalent to a certain number of ships.
Sea-defense for Germany, in case of war with France or England, means
established naval predominance at least in the North Sea; nor can it be
considered complete unless extended through the Channel and as far as
Great Britain will have to project hers into the Atlantic. This is
Germany’s initial disadvantage of position, to be overcome only by
adequate superiority of numbers; and it receives little compensation
from the security of her Baltic trade, and the facility for closing that
sea to her enemies. In fact, Great Britain, whose North Sea trade is but
one-fourth of her total, lies to Germany as Ireland does to Great
Britain, flanking both routes to the Atlantic; but the great development
of the British sea-coast, its numerous ports and ample internal
communications, strengthen that element of sea-defense which consists in
abundant access to harbors of refuge.
For the Baltic Powers, which comprise all the maritime States east of
Germany, the commercial drawback of the Orkney route is a little less
than for Hamburg and Bremen, in that the exit from the Baltic is nearly
equidistant from the north and south extremities of England;
nevertheless the excess in distance over the Channel route remains very
considerable. The initial naval disadvantage is in no wise diminished.
For all the communities east of the Straits of Dover it remains true
that in war commerce is paralyzed, and all the resultant consequences of
impaired national strength entailed, unless decisive control of the
North Sea is established. That effected, there is security for commerce
by the northern passage; but this alone is mere defense. Offense,
exerted anywhere on the globe, requires a surplusage of force, over that
required to hold the North Sea, sufficient to extend and maintain itself
west of the British Islands. In case of war with either of the Channel
Powers, this means, as between the two opponents, that the eastern
belligerent has to guard a long line of communications, and maintain
distant positions, against an antagonist resting on a central position,
with interior lines, able to strike at choice at either wing of the
enemy’s extended front. The relation which the English Channel, with its
branch the Irish Sea, bears to the North Sea and the Atlantic—that of an
interior position—is the same which the Mediterranean bears to the
Atlantic and the Indian Sea; nor is it merely fanciful to trace in the
passage round the north of Scotland an analogy to that by the Cape of
Good Hope. It is a reproduction in miniature. The conditions are
similar, the scale different. What the one is to a war whose scene is
the north of Europe, the other is to operations by European Powers in
Eastern Asia.
To protract such a situation is intolerable to the purse and _morale_ of
the belligerent who has the disadvantage of position. This of course
leads us straight back to the fundamental principles of all naval war,
namely, that defense is ensured only by offense, and that the one
decisive objective of the offensive is the enemy’s organized force, his
battle fleet. Therefore, in the event of a war between one of the
Channel Powers, and one or more of those to the eastward, the control of
the North Sea must be at once decided. For the eastern State it is a
matter of obvious immediate necessity, of commercial self-preservation.
For the western State the offensive motive is equally imperative; but
for Great Britain there is defensive need as well. Her Empire imposes
such a development of naval force as makes it economically impracticable
to maintain an army as large as those of the Continent. Security against
invasion depends therefore upon the fleet. Postponing more distant
interests, she must here concentrate an indisputable superiority. It is,
however, inconceivable that against any one Power Great Britain should
not be able here to exert from the first a preponderance which would
effectually cover all her remoter possessions. Only an economical
decadence, which would of itself destroy her position among nations,
could bring her so to forego the initial advantage she has, in the fact
that for her offense and defense meet and are fulfilled in one factor,
the command of the sea. History has conclusively demonstrated the
inability of a state with even a single continental frontier to compete
in naval development with one that is insular, although of smaller
population and resources. A coalition of Powers may indeed affect the
balance. As a rule, however, a single state against a coalition holds
the interior position, the concentrated force; and while calculation
should rightly take account of possibilities, it should beware of
permitting imagination too free sway in presenting its pictures. Were
the eastern Powers to combine they might prevent Great Britain’s use of
the North Sea for the safe passage of her merchant shipping; but even so
she would but lose commercially the whole of a trade, the greater part
of which disappears by the mere fact of war. Invasion is not possible,
unless her fleet can be wholly disabled from appearing in that sea. From
her geographical position, she still holds her gates open to the outer
world, which maintains three fourths of her commerce in peace.
37. BEARING OF POLITICAL DEVELOPMENTS ON NAVAL POLICY AND STRATEGY[115]
The external activities of Europe, noted a dozen years ago and before,
have now to a certain extent been again superseded by rivalries within
Europe itself. Those rivalries, however, are the result of their
previous external activities, and in the last analysis they depend upon
German commercial development. This has stimulated the German Empire to
a prodigious naval programme, which affects the whole of Europe and may
affect the United States. In 1897 I summed up two conspicuous European
conditions as being the equilibrium then existing between France and
Germany, with their respective allies, and the withdrawal of Great
Britain from active association with the affairs of the Continent. At
that date the Triple Alliance, Austria, Germany, Italy, stood against
the Dual Alliance, France and Russia; Great Britain apart from both, but
with elements of antagonism against Russia and France, and not against
the German monarchies or Italy. These antagonisms arose wholly from
conditions external to Europe,—in India against Russia, and in Africa
against France. Later, the paralysis of Russia, through her defeat by
Japan, and through her internal troubles, left France alone for a time;
during which Germany, thus assured against land attack, was better able
to devote much money to the fleet, as the protector of her growing
commerce. The results have been a projected huge German navy, and a
German altercation with France relative to Moroccan affairs; incidents
which have aroused Great Britain to a sense of naval danger, and have
propelled her to the understandings—whatever they amount to—with France
and Russia, which we now know as the Triple _Entente_. In short, Great
Britain has abandoned the isolation of twenty years ago, stands joined
to the Dual Alliance, and it becomes a Triple _Entente_.
To the United States this means that Great Britain, once our chief
opponent in matters covered by the Monroe Doctrine, but later by the
logic of events drawn to recede from that opposition, so that she
practically backed us against Europe in 1898, and subsequently conceded
the Panama arrangement known as the Hay-Pauncefote Treaty, cannot at
present count for as much as she did in naval questions throughout the
world. It means to the United States and to Japan that Great Britain has
too much at stake at home to side with the one or the other, granting
she so wished, except as bound by treaty, which implies reciprocal
obligations. Between her and Japan such specific obligations exist. They
do not in the case of the United States; and the question whether the
two countries are disposed to support one another, and, if so, to what
extent, or what the attitude of Great Britain would be in case of
difficulty between Japan and the United States, are questions directly
affecting naval strategy.[116]
Great Britain does indeed for the moment hold Germany so far in check
that the German Empire also can do no more than look after its European
interests; but should a naval disaster befall Great Britain, leaving
Germany master of the naval situation, the world would see again a
predominant fleet backed by a predominant army, and that in the hands,
not of a state satiated with colonial possessions, as Great Britain is,
but of one whose late entry into world conditions leaves her without any
such possessions at all of any great value. The habit of mind is narrow
which fails to see that a navy such as Germany is now building will be
efficacious for other ends than those immediately proposed. The
existence of such a fleet is a constant factor in contemporary politics;
the part which it shall play depending upon circumstances not always to
be foreseen. Although the colonial ambitions of Germany are held in
abeyance for the moment, the wish cannot but exist to expand her
territory by foreign acquisitions, to establish external bases for the
support of commercial or political interests, to build up such kindred
communities as now help to constitute the British Empire, homes for
emigrants, markets for industries, sources of supplies of raw materials,
needed by those industries.
All such conditions and ambitions are incidents with which Strategy,
comprehensively considered, has to deal. By the successive enunciations
of the Monroe Doctrine the United States stands committed to the
position that no particle of American soil shall pass into the hands of
a non-American State other than the present possessor. No successful war
between foreign states, no purchase, no exchange, no merger, such as the
not impossible one of Holland with Germany, is allowed as valid cause
for such transfer. This is a very large contract; the only guarantee of
which is an adequate navy, however the term “adequate” be defined.
Adequacy often depends not only upon existing balances of power, such,
for instance, as that by which the British and German navies now affect
one another, which for the moment secures the observance of the
Doctrine. Account must be taken also of evident policies which threaten
to disturb such balances, such as the official announcement by Germany
of her purpose to create a “fleet of such strength that, even for the
mightiest naval power, a war with Germany would involve such risks as to
jeopardize its own supremacy.” This means, at least, that Great Britain
hereafter shall not venture, as in 1898, to back the United States
against European interference; nor to support France in Morocco; nor to
carry out as against Germany her alliance with Japan. It is a matter of
very distinct consequence in naval strategy that Great Britain, after
years of contention with the United States, essentially opposed to the
claims of the Monroe Doctrine, should at last have come to substantial
coincidence with the American point of view, even though she is not
committed to a formal announcement to that effect.[117] Such relations
between states are primarily the concern of the statesman, a matter of
international policies; but they are also among the data which the
strategist, naval as well as land, has to consider, because they are
among the elements which determine the constitution and size of the
national fleet.
I here quote with approval a statement of the French Captain Darrieus:
“Among the complex problems to which the idea of strategy gives rise
there is none more important than that of the constitution of the fleet;
and every project which takes no account of the foreign relations of a
great nation, nor of the material limit fixed by its resources, rests
upon a weak and unstable base.”
I repeat also the quotation from Von der Goltz: “We must have a
_national_ strategy, a _national_ tactics.” I cannot too entirely
repudiate any casual word of mine, reflecting the tone which once was so
traditional in the navy that it might be called professional,—that
“political questions belong rather to the statesman than to the military
man.” I find these words in my old lectures, but I very soon learned
better, from my best military friend, Jomini; and I believe that no
printed book of mine endorses the opinion that external politics are of
no professional concern to military men.
It was in accordance with this changed opinion that in 1895, and again
in 1897, I summed up European conditions as I conceived them to be;
pointing out that the distinguishing feature at that time was
substantial equilibrium on the Continent, constituting what is called
the Balance of Power; and, in connection with the calm thus resulting,
an immense colonizing movement, in which substantially all the great
Powers were concerned. This I indicated as worthy of the notice of naval
strategists, because there were parts of the American continents which
for various reasons might attract upon themselves this movement, in
disregard of the Monroe Doctrine.
Since then the scene has shifted greatly, the distinctive feature of the
change being the growth of Germany in industrial, commercial, and naval
power,—all three; while at the same time maintaining her military
pre-eminence, although that has been somewhat qualified by the
improvement of the French army, just as the growth of the German navy
has qualified British superiority at sea. Coincident with this German
development has been the decline of Russia, owing to causes generally
understood; the stationariness of France in population, while Germany
has increased fifty per cent; and the very close drawing together of
Germany and Austria, for reasons of much more controlling power than the
mere treaty which binds them. The result is that to-day central Europe,
that is, Austria and Germany, form a substantially united body,
extending from water to water, from North Sea to Adriatic, wielding a
military power against which, on the land, no combination in Europe can
stand. The Balance of Power no longer exists; that is, if my estimate is
correct of the conditions and dispersion which characterize the other
nations relatively to this central mass.
This situation, coinciding with British trade jealousies of the new
German industries, and with the German naval programme, have forced
Great Britain out of the isolation which the Balance of Power permitted
her. Her _ententes_ are an attempt to correct the disturbance of the
balance; but, while they tend in that direction, they are not adequate
to the full result desired. The balance remains uneven; and consequently
European attention is concentrated upon European conditions, instead of
upon the colonizing movements of twenty years ago. Germany even has
formally disavowed such colonizing ambitions, by the mouth of her
ambassador to the United States, confirmed by her minister of foreign
affairs, although a dozen years ago they were conspicuous. Concerning
these colonizing movements, indeed, it might be said that they have
reached a moment of quiet, of equilibrium, while internally Europe is
essentially disquieted, as various incidents have shown.
The important point to us here is the growing power of the German
Empire, in which the efficiency of the State as an organic body is so
greatly superior to that of Great Britain, and may prove to be to that
of the United States. The two English-speaking countries have wealth
vastly superior, each separately, to that of Germany; much more if
acting together. But in neither is the efficiency of the Government for
handling the resources comparable to that of Germany; and there is no
apparent chance or recognized inducement for them to work together, as
Germany and Austria now work in Europe. The consequence is that Germany
may deal with each in succession much more effectively than either is
now willing to consider; Europe being powerless to affect the issue so
long as Austria stands by Germany, as she thoroughly understands that
she has every motive to do.
It is this line of reasoning which shows the power of the German navy to
be a matter of prime importance to the United States. The power to
control Germany does not exist in Europe, except in the British navy;
and if social and political conditions in Great Britain develop as they
now promise, the British navy will probably decline in relative
strength, so that it will not venture to withstand the German on any
broad lines of policy, but only in the narrowest sense of immediate
British interests. Even this condition may disappear, for it seems as if
the national life of Great Britain were waning at the same time that
that of Germany is waxing. The truth is, Germany, by traditions of two
centuries, inherits now a system of state control, not only highly
developed but with a people accustomed to it,—a great element of force;
and this at the time when control of the individual by the
community—that is, by the state—is increasingly the note of the times.
Germany has in this matter a large start. Japan has much the same.
When it is remembered that the United States, like Great Britain and
like Japan, can be approached only by sea, we can scarcely fail to see
that upon the sea primarily must be found our power to secure our own
borders and to sustain our external policy, of which at the present
moment there are two principal elements; namely, the Monroe Doctrine and
the Open Door. Of the Monroe Doctrine President Taft, in his first
message to Congress, has said that it has advanced sensibly towards
general acceptance; and that maintenance of its positions in the future
need cause less anxiety than it has in the past. Admitting this, and
disregarding the fact that the respect conceded to it by Europe depends
in part at least upon European rivalries modifying European ability to
intervene,—a condition which may change as suddenly as has the power of
Russia within the decade,—it remains obvious that the policy of the Open
Door requires naval power quite as really and little less directly than
the Monroe Doctrine. For the scene of the Open Door contention is the
Pacific; the gateway to the Pacific for the United States is the
Isthmus; the communications to the Isthmus are by way of the Gulf of
Mexico and the Caribbean Sea. The interest of that maritime region
therefore is even greater now than it was when I first undertook the
strategic study of it, over twenty years ago. Its importance to the
Monroe Doctrine and to general commercial interests remains, even if
modified.
At the date of my first attempt to make this study of the Caribbean, and
to formulate certain principles relative to Naval Strategy, there
scarcely could be said to exist any defined public consciousness of
European and American interest in sea power, and in the methods of its
application which form the study of Strategy. The most striking
illustration of this insensibility to the sea was to be found in
Bismarck, who in a constructive sense was the greatest European
statesman of that day. After the war with France and the acquisition of
Alsace and Lorraine, he spoke of Germany as a state satiated with
territorial expansion. In the matter of external policy she had reached
the limits of his ambitions for her; and his mind thenceforth was set on
internal development, which should harmonize the body politic and ensure
Germany the unity and power which he had won for her. His scheme of
external relations did not stretch beyond Europe. He was then too old to
change to different conceptions, although he did not neglect to follow
the demand of the people as their industry and commerce developed.
The contrast between the condition of indifference to the sea which he
illustrated and that which now exists is striking; and the German
Empire, which owes to him above all men its modern greatness, offers the
most conspicuous illustration of the change. The new great navies of the
world since 1887 are the German, the Japanese, and the American. Every
state in Europe is now awake to the fact that the immediate coming
interests of the world, which are therefore its own national interest,
must be in the other continents. Europe in its relatively settled
conditions offers really the base of operations for enterprises and
decisive events, the scene of which will be in countries where political
or economical backwardness must give place to advances which will be
almost revolutionary in kind. This can scarcely be accomplished without
unsettlements, the composing of which will depend upon force. Such force
by a European state—with the single exception of Russia, and possibly,
in a less degree, of Austria—can be exerted only through a navy.
38. SEIZURE OF PRIVATE PROPERTY AT SEA[118]
The essence of the question involved in the seizure of “private
property” at sea is transportation; and with three such conspicuous
instances[119] within a century its effectiveness is historically
demonstrated. The belligerent state, in the exercise of a right as yet
conceded by international law, says in substance to its adversary, “I
forbid your citizens the maritime transportation of their commercial
property. Articles of whatever character, including the vessels which
carry them, violating this lawful order will be seized and condemned.”
Seizure is made contingent upon movement; otherwise the property is
merely bidden to stay at home, where it will be safe. All this is in
strict conformity with the execution of law under common conditions; and
the practice is now regulated with a precision and system consonant to
other legal adjudication, the growth of centuries of jurisprudence
directed to this particular subject. Its general tendency I have
indicated by certain specific instances. It is efficient to the ends of
war, more or less, according to circumstances; and by distributing the
burden over the whole community affected it tends to peace, as exemption
from capture could not do. If the suffering of war could be made to fall
only on the combatants actually in the field, the rest of the nation
being protected from harm and loss by the assured ability to pursue
their usual avocations undisturbed, the selfishness of men would more
readily resort to violence to carry their ends.
In support of the widespread effects of interruption to transportation,
I gladly quote one of the recent contendents for immunity of “private
property” from maritime capture. Having on one page maintained the
ineffectiveness of the seizure, because individual losses never force a
nation to make peace, he concludes his article by saying:
“The question interests directly and vitally thousands of people in
every country. It is of vital importance to those who go down to the sea
in ships, and those who occupy their business in great waters. It
appeals not only to every shipowner, but also to every merchant whose
goods are shipped upon the sea, to every farmer whose grain is sent
abroad, to every manufacturer who sells to a foreign market, and to
every banker who is dependent upon the prosperity of his countrymen.”
I can do little to enhance this vivid presentation by an opponent; yet
if we add to his list the butchers, the bakers, the tailors, shoemakers,
grocers, whose customers economize; the men who drive drays to and from
shipping, and find their occupation gone; the railroads, as the great
common carriers, whose freights fall off; the stockholders whose
dividends shrink; we shall by no means have exhausted the far-reaching
influence of this intermeddling with transportation. It is a belligerent
measure which touches every member of the hostile community, and, by
thus distributing the evils of war, as insurance distributes the burden
of other losses, it brings them home to every man, fostering in each a
disposition to peace.
It doubtless will not have escaped readers familiar with the subject of
maritime prize that so far I have not distinguished between the
interruption of transportation by blockade and that by seizure on the
high seas. The first, it may be said, is not yet in question; the second
only is challenged. My reason has been that the underlying military
principle—and, as I claim, justification—is the same in both; and, as we
are dealing with a question of war, the military principle is of equal
consideration with any other, if not superior. The effect produced is in
character the same in both. In efficacy, they differ, and their
comparative values in this respect are a legitimate subject for
discussion. In principle and method, however, they are identical; both
aim at the stoppage of transportation, as a means of destroying the
resources of the enemy, and both are enforced by the seizure and
condemnation of “private property” transgressing the orders.
This community of operation is so evident that, historically, the
advocates of exemption of private property from confiscation in the one
case have demanded, or at the least suggested, that blockade as a
military measure cannot be instituted against commerce—that it can be
resorted to only as against contraband, or where a port is “invested” by
land as well as by sea. This was Napoleon’s contention in the Berlin
Decree; and it is worthy of grave attention that, under the pressure of
momentary expediency, the United States more than once, between 1800 and
1812, advanced the same view. This I have shown in my history of the War
of 1812.[120] Had this opinion then prevailed, the grinding blockade of
the War of Secession could not have been applied. If we may imagine the
United States and the Confederate States parties to a Hague Conference,
we can conceive the impassioned advocacy of restricted blockade by the
one, and the stubborn refusal of the other. This carries a grave warning
to test seeming expediency in retaining or yielding a prescriptive
right. There is no moral issue, if my previous argument is correct;
unless it be moral, and I think it is, to resort to pecuniary pressure
rather than to bloodshed to enforce a belligerent contention. As regards
expediency, however, each nation should carefully weigh the effects upon
itself, upon its rivals, and upon the general future of the community of
states, before abandoning a principle of far-reaching consequence, and
in operation often beneficent in restraining or shortening war.
It has been urged that conditions have so changed, through the numerous
alternatives to sea transport now available, that the former efficacy
can no longer be predicted. There might be occasional local suffering,
but for communities at large the streams of supply are so many that the
particular result of general popular distress will not be attained to
any decisive degree. Has this argument really been well weighed? None,
of course, will dispute that certain conditions have been much modified,
and for the better. Steam not only has increased rapidity of land
transit for persons and goods; it has induced the multiplication of
roads, and enforced the maintenance of them in good condition. Thanks to
such maintenance, we are vastly less at the mercy of the seasons than we
once were, and communities now have several lines of communication open
where formerly they were dependent upon one. Nevertheless, for obvious
reasons of cheapness and of facility, water transport sustains its
ascendancy. It may carry somewhat less proportionately than in old
times; but, unless we succeed in exploiting the air, water remains, and
always must remain, the great medium of transportation. The open sea is
a road which needs neither building nor repairs. Compared with its
boundless expanse, two lines of rails afford small accommodation—a
circumstance which narrowly limits their capacity for freight.
[It is shown that water transportation still plays an immense part in
commerce, even in the case of inland watercourses in competition with
railroads, and that any interruption of commerce throws a heavy burden
on the nation involved.—EDITOR.]
Such derangement of an established system of sea transportation is more
searching, as well as more easy, when the shipping involved has to pass
close by an enemy’s shores; and still more if the ports of possible
arrival are few. This is conspicuously the case of Germany and the
Baltic States relatively to Great Britain, and would be of Great Britain
were Ireland independent and hostile. The striking development of German
mercantile tonnage is significant of the growing grandeur, influence,
and ambitions of the empire. Its exposure, in case of war with Great
Britain, and only in less degree with France, would account, were other
reasons wanting, for the importunate demand for naval expansion. Other
reasons are not wanting; but in the development of her merchant shipping
Germany, to use a threadbare phrase, has given a hostage to Fortune.
Except by the measure advocated, and here opposed, of exempting from
capture merchant vessels of a belligerent, with their cargoes, as being
“private property,” Germany is bound over to keep the peace, unless
occasion of national safety—vital interests—or honor drive her, or
unless she equip a navy adequate to so great a task as protecting fully
the carrying-trade she has laboriously created. The exposure of this
trade is not merely a matter of German interest, nor yet of British. It
is of international concern, a circumstance making for peace.
The retort is foreseen: How stands a nation to which the native
mercantile shipping, carrying-trade, is a distinctly minor interest, and
therefore does not largely affect the question of transportation? This
being maintained by neutrals, the accretion of national wealth by
circulation may go on little impaired by hostilities. The first most
obvious reply is that such is a distinctly specialized case in a general
problem, and that its occurrence and continuance are dependent upon
circumstances which frequently vary. It lacks the elements of
permanence, and its present must therefore be regarded with an eye to
the past and future. A half-century ago the mercantile marine of the
United States was, and for nearly a century before had been, a close
second to that of Great Britain; to-day it is practically non-existent,
except for coasting-trade. On the other hand, during the earlier period
the thriving Hanse towns were nearly the sole representatives of German
shipping, which now, issuing from the same harbors, on a strip of coast
still narrow, is pressing rapidly forward under the flag of the empire
to take the place vacated by the Americans.
With such a reversal of conditions in two prominent examples, the
problem of to-day in any one case is not that of yesterday, and may very
well not be that of to-morrow. From decade to decade experience shifts
like a weather-cock; the statesman mounted upon it becomes a Mr.
Facing-Bothways. The denial of commercial blockade, the American
national expediency of 1800, suggested by such eminent jurists as John
Marshall and James Madison, would have been ruinous manacles to the
nation of 1861–65. A government weighing its policy with reference to
the future, having regard to possible as well as actual conditions,
would do well before surrendering existing powers—the bird in the
hand—to consider rather the geographical position of the country, its
relation to maritime routes—the strategy, so to say, of the general
permanent situation—and the military principles upon which maritime
capture rests. In that light a more accurate estimate will be made of
temporary tactical circumstances, to-day’s conditions—such, for
instance, as set forth by the present Lord Chancellor of Great
Britain.[121] In his letter, favoring immunity from capture for “private
property,” disproportionate stress is laid upon the dangers of Great
Britain, the points which make against her; a serious tactical error.
The argument from exposure is so highly developed, that the possible
enemies whose co-operation is needed to secure the desired immunity for
“private” property might well regard the request to assist as spreading
the net in the sight of the bird; a vanity which needs not a wise man to
detect. On the other hand, the offensive advantage of capture to Great
Britain, owing to her situation, is, in my judgment, inadequately
appreciated.
The writer has fallen into the mistake which our General Sherman
characterized as undue imagination concerning what “the man on the other
side of the hill” might do; a quaint version of the first Napoleon’s
warning against “making a picture to yourself.” The picture of Great
Britain’s dangers is overdrawn; that to her enemies—“the full measure of
the mischief we could do to a Continental nation”—is underdrawn. It
would seem as if, in his apprehension, “the disastrous consequences[122]
which would flow from even slight depredations by commerce destroyers on
British shipping” could find no parallel in the results to a Continental
trade from British cruisers. France or Germany, for example, shut off
from the sea, can be supplied by rail from, say, Antwerp or Rotterdam;
but it is apparently inconceivable that, in the contingency of a
protracted naval war, the same ports might equally supply Great Britain
by neutral ships. Alternate sea routes close, apparently automatically;
only alternate land routes stay open. Thus undue weight is laid upon
defensive motives, where the offensive requires the greater emphasis.
The larger merchant tonnage of Great Britain involves a greater
defensive element, yes; but are not defensive conditions favorably
modified by her greater navy, and by her situation, with all her western
ports open to the Atlantic, from Glasgow to Bristol and round to
Southampton? And is not the station for such defense identical with the
best for offense by maritime capture? The British vessels there occupy
also a superior position for coal renewal; the difficulty of which for
an enemy, threatening the Atlantic approaches to Great Britain, seems
too largely discounted by imaginations preoccupied with hostile commerce
destroyers.
The concluding sentence of Lord Loreburn’s letter contains a warning
familiar to military thought. “Great Britain will gain much from a
change long and eagerly _desired_ by the great majority of other
Powers.” The wish of a possible enemy is the beacon which suggests the
shoal. The truth is, if the British Navy maintains superiority, it is to
the interest of her enemies to have immunity from capture for “private
property;” if it falls, it is to their interest to be able to capture.
The inference is safe that probable enemies, if such there be, and if
they entertain the wish asserted, do not expect shortly to destroy the
British Navy.
While unconvinced by the reasoning, it is refreshing to recognize in
this letter a clear practical enunciation which sweeps away much
sentimental rhetoric. “I urge [immunity for private property] not upon
any ground of sentiment or humanity (indeed, no operation of war
inflicts less suffering than the capturing of unarmed vessels at sea),
but upon the ground that on the balance of argument, coolly weighed, the
interests of Great Britain will gain much from the change.” I more than
doubt the conclusion; but its sobriety contrasts pleasantly with the
exuberances, “noble and enlightened action,” “crown of glory,” and the
like, with which it pleases certain of our American advocates to
enwreathe this prosaic utilitarian proposition.
A possibility which affects the general question much more seriously
than others so far considered, is that of neutral carriers taking the
place of a national shipping exposed to capture under present law. This
is one phase of a change which has come over the general conditions of
carrying-trade since the United States became a nation, and since Great
Britain, three quarters of a century afterwards, formally repealed her
Navigation Acts. The discussion preceding this repeal, together with the
coincident Free Trade movement, preceded by but a few years the Treaty
of Paris in 1856, and gave an impulse which doubtless facilitated the
renouncement in that treaty by Great Britain of the right to capture
enemy’s property under a neutral flag. The concession was in the air, as
we say; which proves only that it was contagious, not that it was wise.
Like many hasty steps, however, once taken it probably is irreversible.
The effect of this concession has been to legalize, among the several
great states signatory to the treaty, the carriage of belligerent
property by neutral ships, in which previously it had been liable to
seizure. In its later operation, the condemnation of the enemy’s
property had not involved the neutral carrier further than by the delays
necessary to take her into port, adjudicate the question of ownership,
and remove the property, if found to be belligerent. Such detention,
however, was a strong deterrent, and acted as an impediment to the
circulation of belligerent wealth by neutral means. It tended to
embarrass and impoverish the belligerent; hence the removal of it is a
modification of much importance. Neutral shipping thus is now free to
take a part in hostilities, which formerly it could only do at the risk
of loss, more or less serious. To carry belligerent property, which
under its own flag would be open to seizure, is to aid the belligerent;
is to take part in the war.
In considering such an amelioration, if it be so regarded, it is
possible to exaggerate its degree. If a nation cherishes its
carrying-trade, does a large part of its transportation in its own
vessels, and is unable in war to protect them, the benefit of the
innovation will be but partial. Its own shipping, driven from the sea,
is an important element in the total navigation of the world, and the
means to replace it will not be at once at hand. Neutrals have their own
commerce to maintain, as well as that of the weaker belligerent. They
would not undertake the whole of the latter, if they could; and, if they
would, they will not at once have the means. Steamships driven off the
sea, and for the moment lost to navigation, cannot be replaced as
rapidly as the old sailing-vessels. Moreover, neutral merchants have to
weigh the chances of hostilities being short, and that the banished
shipping of the belligerent may return in its might to the seas with the
dawn of peace, making their own a drug on the market. In short, while
the belligerent profits from a change which gives him free use of
neutral ships, whereas he formerly had only a limited use, a
considerable embarrassment remains. The effect is identical in principle
and operation with that before indicated, as resulting from blockading a
few chief harbors. A certain large fraction of transportation is
paralyzed, and the work done by it is thrown upon ports and roads which
have not the necessary facilities. It is as though a main trunk line of
railroad were seized and held. The general system is deranged, prices
rise, embarrassment results, and is propagated throughout the business
community. This affects the nation by the suffering of thousands of
individuals, and by the consequent reduction of revenue.
It would seem, therefore, that even under modern conditions maritime
capture—of “private” property—is a means of importance to the ends of
war; that it acts directly upon the individual citizens and upon the
financial power of the belligerent, the effect being intensified by
indirect influence upon the fears of the sensitive business world. These
political and financial consequences bring the practice into exact line
with military principle; for, being directed against the resources of
the enemy, by interrupting his communications with the outer world, it
becomes strictly analogous to operations against the communications of
an army with its base—one of the chief objects of strategy. Upon the
maintenance of communications the life of an army depends, upon the
maintenance of commerce the vitality of a state. Money, credit, is the
life of war. Lessen it, and vigor flags; destroy it, and resistance
dies. Accepting these conclusions, each state has to weigh the probable
bearing upon its own fortunes of the continuance or discontinuance of
the practice. From the military point of view the question is not
merely, nor chiefly, “What shall our people escape by the abandonment of
this time-sanctioned method?” but, “What power to overcome the enemy
shall we thereby surrender?” It is a question of balance, between
offense and defense. As Jefferson said, when threatened with a failure
of negotiations, “We shall have to begin the irrational process of
trying which can do the other most harm.” As a summary of war, the
sentence is a caricature; but it incidentally embodies Farragut’s
aphorism, “The best defense is a rapid fire from our own guns.” For the
success of war, offense is better than defense; and in contemplating
this or any other military measure, let there be dismissed at once, as
preposterous, the hope that war can be carried on without some one or
something being hurt; that the accounts should show credit only and no
debit.
For the community of states a broader view should be taken, from the
standpoint that whatever tends to make war more effective tends to
shorten it and to prevent it.
39. THE MORAL ASPECT OF WAR[123]
The poet’s words, “The Parliament of man, the federation of the world,”
were much in men’s mouths this past summer. There is no denying the
beauty of the ideal, but there was apparent also a disposition, in
contemplating it, to contemn the slow processes of evolution by which
Nature commonly attains her ends, and to impose at once, by convention,
the methods that commended themselves to the sanguine. Fruit is not best
ripened by premature plucking, nor can the goal be reached by such short
cuts. Step by step, in the past, man has ascended by means of the sword,
and his more recent gains, as well as present conditions, show that the
time has not yet come to kick down the ladder which has so far served
him. Three hundred years ago, the people of the land in which the
Conference was assembled wrenched with the sword civil and religious
peace, and national independence, from the tyranny of Spain. Then began
the disintegration of her empire, and the deliverance of peoples from
her oppression; but this was completed only last year, and then again by
the sword—of the United States.
In the centuries which have since intervened, what has not “justice,
with valor armed,” when confronted by evil in high places, found itself
compelled to effect by resort to the sword? To it was due the birth of
the United States, not least among the benefits of which was the stern
experience that has made Great Britain no longer the mistress, but the
mother, of her dependencies. The control, to good from evil, of the
devastating fire of the French Revolution, and of Napoleon, was due to
the sword. The long line of illustrious names and deeds, of those who
bore it not in vain, has in our times culminated—if indeed the end is
even yet nearly reached—in the new birth of the United States by the
extirpation of human slavery, and in the downfall, but yesterday, of a
colonial empire identified with tyranny. What the sword, and it
supremely, tempered only by the stern demands of justice and of
conscience, and the loving voice of charity, has done for India and for
Egypt, is a tale at once too long and too well known for repetition
here. Peace, indeed, is not adequate to all progress; there are
resistances that can be overcome only by explosion. What means less
violent than war would in a half-year have solved the Caribbean problem,
shattered national ideas deep rooted in the prepossessions of a century,
and planted the United States in Asia, face to face with the great world
problem of the immediate future? What but the War of 1898 rent the veil
which prevented the English-speaking communities from seeing eye to eye,
and revealed to each the face of a brother? Little wonder that a war
which, with comparatively little bloodshed, brought such consequences,
was followed by the call for a Peace Conference!
Power, force, is a faculty of national life; one of the talents
committed to nations by God. Like every other endowment of a complex
organization, it must be held under control of the enlightened intellect
and of the upright heart; but no more than any other can it be
carelessly or lightly abjured, without incurring the responsibility of
one who buries in the earth that which was entrusted to him for use. And
this obligation to maintain right, by force if need be, while common to
all states, rests peculiarly upon the greater, in proportion to their
means. Much is required of those to whom much is given. So viewed, the
ability speedily to put forth the nation’s power, by adequate
organization and other necessary preparation, according to the
reasonable demands of the nation’s intrinsic strength and of its
position in the world, is one of the clear duties involved in the
Christian word “watchfulness,”—readiness for the call that may come,
whether expectedly or not. Until it is demonstrable that no evil exists,
or threatens the world, which cannot be obviated without recourse to
force, the obligation to readiness must remain; and, where evil is
mighty and defiant, the obligation to use force—that is, war—arises. Nor
is it possible, antecedently, to bring these conditions and obligations
under the letter of precise and codified law, to be administered by a
tribunal. The spirit of legalism is marked by blemishes as real as those
commonly attributed to “militarism,” and not more elevated. The
considerations which determine good and evil, right and wrong, in crises
of national life, or of the world’s history, are questions of equity
often too complicated for decision upon mere rules, or even upon
principles, of law, international or other. The instances of Bulgaria,
of Armenia, and of Cuba, are entirely in point; and it is most probable
that the contentions about the future of China will afford further
illustration. Even in matters where the interest of nations is
concerned, the moral element enters; because each generation in its day
is the guardian of those which shall follow it. Like all guardians,
therefore, while it has the power to act according to its best judgment,
it has no right, for the mere sake of peace, to permit known injustice
to be done to its wards.
The present strong feeling in favor of arbitration, throughout the
nations of the world, is in itself a subject for congratulation almost
unalloyed. It carries indeed a promise, to the certainty of which no
paper covenants can pretend; for it influences the conscience by inward
conviction, not by external fetter. But it must be remembered that such
sentiments, from their very universality and evident laudableness, need
correctives, for they bear in themselves a great danger of excess or of
precipitancy. Excess is seen in the disposition, far too prevalent, to
look upon war not only as an evil, but as an evil unmixed, unnecessary,
and therefore always unjustifiable; while precipitancy, to reach results
considered desirable, is evidenced by the wish to _impose_ arbitration,
to prevent recourse to war, by a general pledge previously made. Both
frames of mind receive expression in the words of speakers among whom a
leading characteristic is lack of measuredness and of proportion. Thus
an eminent citizen is reported to have said: “There is no more occasion
for two nations to go to war than for two men to settle their
difficulties with clubs.” Singularly enough, this point of view assumes
to represent peculiarly Christian teaching. In so doing, it willfully
ignores the truth that Christianity, while it will not force the
conscience by other than spiritual arguments, as “compulsory”
arbitration might, distinctly recognizes the sword as the resister and
remedier of evil in the sphere “of this world.”
Arbitration’s great opportunity has come in the advancing moral
standards of states, whereby the disposition to deliberate wrong-doing
has diminished; consequently, the occasions for redressing wrong by
force are less frequent to arise. In view of recent events, however, and
very especially of notorious, high-handed oppression, initiated since
the calling of the Peace Conference,[124] and resolutely continued
during its sessions in defiance of the public opinion of the world at
large, it is premature to assume that such occasions belong wholly to
the past. Much less can it be assumed that there will be no further
instances of a community believing, conscientiously and entirely, that
honor and duty require of it a certain course, which another community
with equal integrity may hold to be inconsistent with the rights and
obligations of its own members. It is, for instance, quite possible,
especially to one who has recently visited Holland, to conceive that
Great Britain and the Boers are alike satisfied of the substantial
justice of their respective claims. It is permissible most earnestly to
hope that, in disputes between sovereign states, arbitration may find a
way to reconcile peace with fidelity to conscience, in the case of both;
but if the conviction of conscience remains unshaken, war is better than
disobedience,—better than acquiescence in recognized wrong. The great
danger of undiscriminating advocacy of arbitration, which threatens even
the cause it seeks to maintain, is that it may lead men to tamper with
equity, to compromise with unrighteousness, soothing their conscience
with the belief that war is so entirely wrong that beside it no other
tolerated evil is wrong. Witness Armenia, and witness Crete. War has
been avoided; but what of the national consciences that beheld such
iniquity and withheld the hand?
40. THE PRACTICAL ASPECT OF WAR[125]
If it be true, as I have expressed my own conviction, that moral motives
are gaining in force the world over, we can have hope of the time when
they shall prevail; but it is evident that they must prevail over all
nations equally, or with some approach to equality, or else discussion
between two disputants will not rest on the same plane. In the
difference between the United States and Spain, I suppose the argument
of the United States, the moral justification to itself of its proposed
action, would be that misgovernment of Cuba, and needless Cuban
suffering, had continued so long as to show that Spain was not capable
of giving good government to her distant dependency. There was no
occasion to question her desire to give it, the honesty either of her
assertions or measures to that end; but it was quite apparent that it
was not in her to give effect to her efforts. Now, presuming Spain to
take that view, it is conceivable (to the imagination) that her rulers
might say, “Yes, it is true, we have failed continuously. The Cubans
have a moral right to good government, and as we have not been able to
give it them, it is right that we should step out.” But, assuming Spain
unequal to such sublime moral conviction and self-abnegation, what was
the United States to do, as a practical matter? What she did was
perfectly practical; she used the last argument of nations as
international law stands; but, suppose she had gone to arbitration, upon
what grounds would the Court proceed? What the solid prearranged basis
of its decision, should that be that Spain must evacuate Cuba? Is there
anything in the present accord of states, styled International Law, that
would give such power? And, more pertinent still, are states prepared
now to concede to an arbitral Court the power to order them out of
territory which in its opinion they misgovern, or which in its opinion
they should not retain after conquest? _e. g._, Schleswig Holstein,
Alsace and Lorraine, the Transvaal, Porto Rico and the Philippine
Islands?
Or, take another impending and very momentous instance, one fraught with
immeasurable issues. If I rightly appreciate conditions, there is, among
the English-speaking communities bordering the Pacific, a deep
instinctive popular determination, one of those before which rulers have
to bow, to exclude, from employment in the sparsely settled territories
occupied by them, the concentrated crowded mass of mankind found in
Japan and China. More than anything else this sums up the question of
the Pacific. Two seas of humanity, on very different levels as to
numbers and economical conditions, stand separated only by this
artificial dyke of legislation, barring the one from rushing upon and
flooding the other. I do not criticize an attitude with which, whether I
approve or not, I can sympathize; but as I look at the legislation, and
contrast the material conditions, I wonder at the improvidence of
Australasia in trusting that laws, though breathing the utmost popular
conviction and purpose, can protect their lands from that which
threatens. “Go home,” said Franklin to a fellow colonist in the days of
unrest in America, “and tell them to get children. That will settle all
our difficulties.” Fill up your land with men of your own kind, if you
wish to keep it for yourselves. The Pacific States of North America are
filling up, and, more important, they back solidly upon, and are
politically one with, other great communities into which the human tide
is pouring apace; yet in them, too, labor may inflict upon its own aims
revolutionary defeat, if for supposed local advantage it embarrasses the
immigration of its own kind. It is very different for those who are
severed from their like by sea, and therefore must stand on their own
bottom. All the naval· power of the British Empire cannot suffice
ultimately to save a remote community which neither breeds men in plenty
nor freely imports them.
We speak of these questions now as racial, and the expression is
convenient. It is compact, and represents truly one aspect of such
situations, which, however, are essentially economical and territorial.
In long-settled countries race and territory tend to identity of
meaning, but we need scarce a moment’s recollection to know that race
does not bind as do border lines, nor even they as do economical facts.
Economical facts largely brought about the separation of America from
Great Britain; economical facts brought about the American Union and
continue to bind it. The closer union of the territories which now
constitute the British Empire must be found in economical adjustments;
the fact of common race is not sufficient thereto. Now, economical
influences are of the most purely material order—the order of personal
self-interest; in that form at least they appeal to the great majority,
for the instructed political economists form but a small proportion of
any community. Race, yes; territory—country—yes; the heart thrills, the
eyes fill, self-sacrifice seems natural, the moral motive for the moment
prevails; but in the long run the hard pressure of economical truth
comes down upon these with the tyranny of the despot. There are, indeed,
noble leaders not a few, who see in this crushing burden upon their
fellow millions an enemy to be confronted and vanquished, not by direct
opposition, but by circumvention, relieving his sway by bettering
environment, and so giving play to the loftier sentiments. But that
these men may so work they need to be, as we say, independent, released
from the grip of daily bread; and their very mission, alike in its
success and its failures, testifies to the preponderant weight of
economical conditions in the social world....
If with wealth, numbers and opportunity, a people still cannot so
organize their strength as to hold their own, it is not practical to
expect that those to whom wealth and opportunity are lacking, but who
have organizing faculty and willingness to fight, will not under the
pressure of need enter upon an inheritance which need will persuade
themselves is ethically their due. What, it may be asked, is likely to
be the reasoning of an intelligent Chinese or Japanese workman,
realizing the relative opportunities of his crowded country and those of
Australia and California, and finding himself excluded by force? What
ethical, what moral, value will he find in the contention that his
people should not resort to force to claim a share in the better
conditions from which force bars him? How did the white races respect
the policy of isolation in Japan and China, though it only affected
commercial advantages? I do not in the least pronounce upon the ethical
propriety of exclusion by those in possession—the right of property, now
largely challenged. I merely draw attention to the apparent balance of
ethical argument, with the fact of antagonistic economical conditions;
and I say that for such a situation the only practical arbiter is the
physical force, of which war is merely the occasional political
expression.
In the broad outlook, which embraces not merely armed collision, but the
condition of preparation and attitude of mind that enable a people to
put forth, on demand, the full measure of their physical
strength,—numerical, financial and military,—to repel a threatened
injury or maintain a national right, war is the regulator and adjuster
of those movements of the peoples, which in their tendencies and outcome
constitute history. These are natural forces, which from their origin
and power are self-existent and independent in relation to man. His
provision against them is war; the artificial organization of other
forces, intrinsically less powerful materially, but with the advantage
which intelligent combination and direction confer. By this he can
measurably control, guide, delay, or otherwise beneficially modify,
results which threaten to be disastrous in their extent, tendency, or
suddenness. So regarded war is remedial or preventive.
I apprehend that these two adjectives, drawn from the vocabulary of the
healer, embody both the practical and moral justification of war. An
ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. It will be well that we
invoke moral power to help heal the evils of the world, as the physician
brings it to bear on the ills of the body; but few are prepared to rely
upon it alone. We need material aid as well. The dikes of Holland
withstand by direct opposition the natural mission of the North Sea to
swallow up the land they protect. The levees of the Mississippi restrain
and guide to betterment the course of the mighty current, which but for
them would waste its strength to devastate the shores on either hand.
These two artificial devices represent a vast expenditure of time,
money, and energy; of unproductive labor so-called; but they are cheaper
than a flood. The police of our great cities prevent the outburst of
crime, the fearful possibilities of which manifest themselves on the
happily rare occasions when material prevention has from any cause
lapsed. The police bodies are a great expense; but they cost less than a
few days of anarchy. Let us not deceive ourselves by fancying that the
strong material impulses which drive those masses of men whom we style
nations, or races, are to be checked or guided, unless to the argument
of a reasonable contention there be given the strong support of
organized material power. If the organized disappear, the unorganized
will but come into surer and more dreadful collision.
41. MOTIVES FOR NAVAL POWER[126]
There is one further conclusion to be drawn from the war between Japan
and Russia, which contradicts a previous general impression that I
myself have shared, and possibly in some degree have contributed to
diffuse. That impression is, that navies depend upon maritime commerce
as the cause and justification of their existence. To a certain extent,
of course, this is true; and, just because true to a certain extent, the
conclusion is more misleading. Because partly true, it is accepted as
unqualifiedly true. Russia has little maritime commerce, at least in her
own bottoms; her merchant flag is rarely seen; she has a very defective
sea-coast; can in no sense be called a maritime nation. Yet the Russian
navy had the decisive part to play in the late war; and the war was
unsuccessful, not because the navy was not large enough, but because it
was improperly handled. Probably, it also was intrinsically
insufficient—bad in quality; poor troops as well as poor generalship.
The disastrous result does not contravene the truth that Russia, though
with little maritime shipping, was imperatively in need of a navy.
I am not particularly interested here to define the relations of
commerce to a navy. It seems reasonable to say that, where merchant
shipping exists, it tends logically to develop the form of protection
which is called naval; but it has become perfectly evident, by concrete
examples, that a navy may be necessary where there is no shipping.
Russia and the United States to-day are such instances in point. More
and more it becomes clear, that the functions of navies are distinctly
military and international, whatever their historical origin in
particular cases. The navy of the United States, for example, took its
rise from purely commercial considerations. External interests cannot be
confined to those of commerce. They may be political as well as
commercial; may be political because commercial, like the claim to “the
open door” in China; may be political because military, essential to
national defense, like the Panama Canal and Hawaii; may be political
because of national prepossessions and sympathies, race sympathies, such
as exist in Europe, or traditions like the Monroe Doctrine. The Monroe
Doctrine in its beginnings was partly an expression of commercial
interest, directed against a renewal of Spanish monopoly in the colonial
system; it was partly military, defensive against European aggressions
and dangerous propinquity; partly political, in sympathy with
communities struggling for freedom.
A broad basis of mercantile maritime interests and shipping will
doubtless conduce to naval efficiency, by supplying a reserve of
material and personnel. Also, in representative governments, military
interests cannot without loss dispense with the backing which is
supplied by a widely spread, deeply rooted, civil interest, such as
merchant shipping would afford us.
To prepare for war in time of peace is impracticable to commercial
representative nations, because the people in general will not give
sufficient heed to military necessities, or to international problems,
to feel the pressure which induces readiness. All that naval officers
can do is to realize to themselves vividly, make it a part of their
thought, that a merchant shipping is only one form of the many which the
external relations of a country can assume. We have such external
questions in the Monroe Doctrine, the Panama Canal, the Hawaiian
Islands, the market of China, and, I may add, in the exposure of the
Pacific Coast, with its meagre population, insufficiently developed
resources, and somewhat turbulent attitude towards Asiatics. The United
States, with no aggressive purpose, but merely to sustain avowed
policies, for which her people are ready to fight, although unwilling to
prepare, needs a navy both numerous and efficient, even if no merchant
vessel ever again flies the United States flag. If we hold these truths
clearly and comprehensively, as well as with conviction, we may probably
affect those who affect legislation. At all events, so to hold will do
no harm.
APPENDIX
CHRONOLOGICAL OUTLINE
1840. September 27, Alfred Thayer Mahan born at West Point, New York,
son of Professor Dennis Hart Mahan of the U. S. Military
Academy.
1854–1856. Student at Columbia College in the City of New York.
1856. September 30, entered the third class, U. S. Naval Academy, as
acting midshipman. Appointed from the 10th Congressional
District of New York.
1859. June 9, graduated as midshipman.
1859–1861, Frigate _Congress_, Brazil station.
1861. August 31, promoted to lieutenant. Converted steamer _James
Adger_ for ten days.
1861–1862. Steam corvette _Pocahontas_, in the Potomac flotilla;
capture of Port Royal, November 7, 1861; South Atlantic
Blockading Squadron.
1862–1863. Naval Academy at Newport, Rhode Island. First lieutenant in
the _Macedonian_ during the summer practice cruise to England in
1863.
1863–1864. Steam corvette _Seminole_, West Gulf Blockading Squadron.
1864–1865. _James Adger_; staff of Rear Admiral Dahlgren, South
Atlantic Blockading Squadron; _James Adger_.
1865–1866. Double-ender _Muscoota_.
1865. June 7, promoted to lieutenant commander.
1866. Ordnance duty, Washington Navy Yard.
1867–1869. Steam sloop _Iroquois_, to Asiatic station, via Cape of
Good Hope. Detached in 1869; returned via Rome and Paris.
1869. Commanding gunboat _Aroostook_, Asiatic station.
1870–1871. Navy yard, New York.
1871. _Worcester_, home station.
1872. Promoted to commander. Receiving ship, New York.
1873–1874. Commanding side-wheel steamer _Wasp_ in the Rio de la
Plata.
1875–1876. Navy yard, Boston.
1877–1880. Naval Academy, Annapolis.
1880–1883. Navy yard, New York.
1883–1885. Commanding steam sloop _Wachusett_, South Pacific Squadron.
1885. Assigned to Naval War College, as lecturer on naval history and
strategy.
1886–1889. President of Naval War College.
1889–1892. Special duty, Bureau of Navigation. Member of commission to
choose site for navy yard in Puget Sound.
1892–1893. President of Naval War College.
1893–1895. Commanding cruiser _Chicago_, flagship of Rear Admiral
Erben, European station.
1895–1896. Special duty at the Naval War College.
1896. November 17, retired as captain on his own application after
forty years’ service.
1896–1912. Special duty in connection with Naval War College.
1898. Member of Naval War Board during Spanish War.
1899. Delegate to Hague Peace Conference.
1906. June 29, rear admiral on the retired list.
1914. December 1, died at the Naval Hospital, Washington.
ACADEMIC HONORS
D.C.L., Oxford, 1894; LL.D., Cambridge, 1894; LL.D., Harvard, 1895;
LL.D., Yale, 1897; LL.D., Columbia, 1900; LL.D., Magill, 1909; President
of the American Historical Association, 1902.
PUBLISHED WORKS
1883. “The Gulf and Inland Waters.”
1890. “The Influence of Sea Power upon History, 1660–1783.”
1892. “The Influence of Sea Power upon the French Revolution and
Empire, 1793–1812.” Two volumes.
“The Life of Admiral Farragut.”
1897. “The Life of Nelson: the Embodiment of the Sea Power of Great
Britain.” Two volumes.
“The Interest of America in Sea Power, Present and Future.”
1899. “Lessons of the War with Spain.”
1900. “The Problem of Asia, and its Effect upon International
Policies.”
“The Story of the War with South Africa, 1899–1900.”
1901. “Types of Naval Officers, Drawn from the History of the British
Navy.”
1902. “Retrospect and Prospect: Studies in International Relations,
Naval and Political.”
1905. “Sea Power in its Relations to the War of 1812.” Two volumes.
1907. “Some Neglected Aspects of War.”
“From Sail to Steam: Recollections of a Naval Life.”
1908. “Naval Administration and Warfare.”
1909. “The Harvest Within: Thoughts on the Life of a Christian.”
1910. “The Interest of America in International Conditions.”
1911. “Naval Strategy, Compared and Contrasted with the Principles and
Practice of Military Operations on Land.”
1912. “Armaments and Arbitration: the Place of Force in International
Relations.”
1913. “The Major Operations of the Navies in the War of American
Independence.”
UNCOLLECTED ESSAYS
“Reflections, Historical and Other, Suggested by the Battle of the Sea
of Japan,” _U. S. Naval Institute_, June, 1906; Reprinted in _Journal of
the Royal United Service Institution_, November, 1906.
“The Battleship of All Big Guns,” _World’s Work_, January, 1911.
“Misrepresenting Mr. Roosevelt,” _Outlook_, June 17, 1911.
“Importance of Command of the Sea,” _Scientific American_, December 9,
1911.
“Was Panama a Chapter of National Dishonor?” _North American Review_,
October, 1912.
“Japan among Nations,” _Living Age_, August 2, 1913.
“Twentieth Century Christianity,” _North American Review_, April, 1914.
“Macdonough at Plattsburg,” _North American Review_, August, 1914.
“The Panama Canal and the Distribution of the Fleet,” _North American
Review_, September, 1914.
REFERENCES
There is at present no printed source for the life of Mahan except his
autobiographical record “From Sail to Steam,” which is confined almost
entirely to the period preceding his retirement in 1896. Aside from book
reviews, the more important critical essays and tributes are as follows:
“Mahan’s Counsels to the United States,” G. S. Clarke, _Nineteenth
Century, Review_, February, 1898.
“Mahan on Sea Power,” S. G. W. Benjamin, _New York Times Book Review_,
January 18, 1902.
“La Maîtrise de la Mer,” Auguste Moireau, _Revue des Deux Mondes_,
October, 1902.
“Some American Historians,” Professor H. Morse Stephens, _World’s Work_,
July, 1902.
“Lee at Appomattox and Other Papers,” Charles Francis Adams, 1903, p.
356 ff.
“The Writings of Mahan,” _New York Nation_, December 10, 1914.
“A Great Public Servant,” Theodore Roosevelt, _Outlook_, January 13,
1915. See also _Outlook_, December 9, 1914.
“Alfred Thayer Mahan—In Memoriam,” _United States Naval Institute_,
January–February, 1915.
“The Influence of America’s Greatest Naval Strategist on the War in
Europe,” _Current Opinion_, February, 1915. (Taken from Paris _Figaro_.)
“Naval History: Mahan and his Successors,” _Military Historian and
Economist_, January, 1918.
INDEX
Aden, #$1#, 152
Admiralty, British, organization of, 118–122, 194, 195
Adriatic Sea, 26, 306
Africa, 46.
_See_ SOUTH AFRICA
Alabama, Confederate cruiser, 96
Alaska, 40
Alava, Spanish admiral, 215
Alexander the Great, campaigns of, 4, 14
Alexander I, of Russia, 224–226
Algeciras Conference, 306
Alliances, military weakness of, 60, 61, 315.
_See_ ENTENTE; TRIPLE ALLIANCE
Alsace-Lorraine, 326, 349
American Independence, War of, 23, 85, 343;
unwise policy of England in, 143–144;
influence of sea power in, 164–170.
Amsterdam, 34, 39.
Antilles, Lesser, strategic value of, 102, 105, 107, 108
Antwerp, 30, 306
Arbitration, #$1#, inadequacy of, 293–295, 344–347
Armenia, 345, 347
Armored cruiser, a faulty type, 260
Asia. _See_ CHINA; JAPAN; FAR EAST
Atlantic Coast, of United States, 35, 65–67, 111–112, 274, 285
Australia, 148, 149, 350
Austria, in Thirty Years’ War, 50 ff.;
in Napoleonic Wars, 76, 191, 228;
in Seven Years’ War, 147;
an ally of Germany, 304–306, 317, 322, 323, 327
Balkan States, 306
Baltic Sea, 31, 82, 186, 188, 191, 273, 274, 313
Barbados, 60, 196
Bases, naval, for permanent operations, 28;
in the Caribbean, 29;
exposed to land attack, 71;
useless without a navy, 287.
_See_ PORTS; STRATEGIC POSITIONS
Battleships, design of, 61–62.
_See_ SPEED
Beachy Head, battle of, 81, 155, 157
Belgium, ports of, closed, 30;
a possession of Spain, 38, 50, 57, 60, 67
Berlin Decree, 95, 331
Bermuda, 105
Biscay, Bay of, 192
Bismarck, Prince, #$1#, 326
Blockade, in the Civil War, 41–42, 94;
military, 86;
commercial, 94–99, 330–331;
defense against, 129–132;
of Santiago, 251–255;
of France, in Napoleonic Wars, 300–311
Bombardment, defense against, 129–132
Bombay, #$1#, 153
Boulogne, 191, 192, 194, 197
Bourrienne, Napoleon’s secretary, 13, 14
Boyne, battle of, 37
Brest, 23, 24, 31, 154, 174, 192–194, 196, 222
Brock, General, 233, 234
_Brunswick_, British ship, 180–182
_Bucentaure_, French ship, 215–219
Bulgaria, 345
Byng, British Admiral, 85, 86, 158
Cadiz, 26, 58;
Villeneuve at, 197–202, 208–211, 219–222
Cæsar, campaigns of, 4, 14
Calder, British Admiral, 196
Cámara, Spanish Admiral, 252
Canada, 143, 147, 154;
in War of 1812, 229–240, 307
Cape Verde Islands, 241
Caribbean Sea, strategic importance of, 27–29, 289, 325;
features of, 100–112;
map of, 100;
hurricane in, 244
Cartagena, 26
Central Line, or Position, defined and illustrated, 50–67, 103;
of Germany, 53
Cervera, Spanish Admiral, squadron of, 59, 88, 89;
approach of, 241–249;
blockaded at Santiago, 251–255
Champlain, Lake, battle of, 235, 239
Channel, British, 23, 24, 25, 52, 53, 69, 140;
defenses in, against Napoleon, 191–195;
controlled by England, 312–315
Charles, Archduke, campaigns of, 11 ff
Chauncey, Commodore, 235–236
Chemulpo, 256, 267
Cherbourg, 31, 174
Chesapeake Bay, British forces in, 31;
battle off, 164–170
China, at war with Japan, 296;
and foreign powers, 300, 345;
emigration from, 349, 352.
_See_ OPEN DOOR
Cienfuegos, 59, 88, 89, 103, 241, 246, 247
Civil War, American, Mahan’s service in, #$1#;
blockade in, 41–42, 94–96;
Farragut in, 76;
results of, 292
Clausewitz, Karl von, quoted, 89
Clinton, Sir Henry, 164, 167
Coasts, influence of, on naval development, 28–32, 40–42;
defense of, 89, 129–133;
fortification of, 261.
_See_ FRONTIERS
Codrington, Sir Edward, 178, 183, 201
Colbert, French Minister, 138, 139
Collingwood, British Admiral, at battle of June First, 178;
off Rochefort, 192;
at Trafalgar, 197, 201, 206, 213–217, 220
Colonies, national policies regarding, #$1#, 45–46;
as motives for a navy, 20;
British, 22;
Germany’s desire for, 319, 323
Commerce, easier by sea than by land, 16;
importance of foreign, 17, 148;
as a motive for naval power, 18–19, 355–357;
routes of, 69–70, 76–78
Commerce Warfare, operations of, discussed, 5, 91–99;
a weapon of the weaker sea power, 24;
requires distant bases, 25, 154;
in the Napoleonic Wars, 198, 223–228.
_See_ BLOCKADE; PRIVATE PROPERTY
Communications, facility of, by sea, 16, 77, 286, 331–332;
between England and Ireland, 37, 38;
importance of, in warfare, 52–60, 75–78, 92;
maintained by naval forces, 154;
altered by interoceanic canals, 288–290
Compromise, evils of, 259–262;
in Rozhestvensky’s plans, 281
Concentration, defined and illustrated, 60–67;
disregarded by Russia in war with Japan, 270–275, 277–282
Continental System, Napoleon’s, 198, 223–228
Contraband, 99
Convoys, 17
Copenhagen, Nelson’s campaign of, 184–191
Corbett, Sir Julian, quoted, 85, 89
Corfu, 287
Cornwallis, British Admiral, 192, 194, 196
Cornwallis, General, at Yorktown, 159, 164–170
Corsica, 26
Corunna, 52
Crete, 58, 70, 347
Cronstadt, 273
Cuba, strategic value of, 59, 74, 79, 100–112;
in Spanish War, 243, 245, 345, 348, 349
Culebra Island, 111
Curaçao, 241, 248
_Curieux_, British brig, 196
Curtis, British Captain, 178, 179, 183
Cyprus, 153
D’Aché, French Admiral, 153
Danube, central position on, 50, 53–56, 60, 67
Dearborn, General, 236, 238
De Barras, French Admiral, in the American Revolution, 164–168
Defensive, limited rôle of, in naval warfare, 87–90, 309–311;
in the War of 1812, 228 ff
De Grasse, French Admiral, at Saints’ Passage, 160;
off the Chesapeake, 164–170
Du Guichen, French Admiral, engaged with Rodney, 159–163
Denmark, trade of, 25;
waters of, 51;
Nelson’s campaign against, 184–190
De Ruyter, Dutch Admiral, 207
Detroit, 233, 238, 239
Dewey, Admiral, #$1#
Dominica, 160
Dumanoir, French Admiral, at Trafalgar, 218–220
Egypt, Napoleon in, 58, 127, 192;
British rule in, 152, 191, 343
England. _See_ GREAT BRITAIN
Entente, Triple, 53, 304–306, 317–318
Erie, Lake, operations on, 232, 233, 235–236, 238, 240
Far East, political conditions in, 289–291, 296–297.
_See_ CHINA; JAPAN; OPEN DOOR
Farragut, Admiral, his place as a naval leader, #$1#;
at Mobile, 64, 251;
on the Mississippi, 76;
quoted, 340
Ferrol, 192, 196, 197
Fighting Instructions, of the British Navy, 157–158
Fleet in Being, theory of, 81;
illustrated by Cervera’s fleet, 242–248;
in Russo-Japanese War, 258–269
Florida, exposed position of, 36, 65, 66;
Straits of, 69, 147
Flying Squadron, in Spanish War, #$1#, 59, 88, 89, 241, 246
Fortress Fleet, 258–269
Française, Cape, 165, 166
France, a rival of Great Britain, #$1#;
geographical conditions affecting, 22–25;
ports of, 31, 32;
in Napoleonic Wars, 43–44, 171–174;
colonial policy of, 46;
in Thirty Years’ War, 50–57;
exhausted under Louis XIV, 137–140;
in American Revolution, 143–144;
in Seven Years’ War, 147, 153–154;
opposed to Germany, 305, 317–318, 320;
arrested growth of, in population, 307, 322;
Channel coast of, 312–313.
_See_ NAVY, FRENCH
Franklin, Benjamin, quoted, 350
Frederick the Great, 14, 147
French Revolution, 152;
effect on French navy, 171–174, 178
Frontiers, advantage of seaboard, 30;
of United States, regarded as a line, 65–67, 112;
warfare on, in 1812, 229–234.
_See_ COASTS
Genoa, 67
Germany, recent naval policy of, #$1#–xv, 51;
trade of, 25;
rivers of, 33, 69;
central position of, 53;
possible acquisitions in West Indies, 288;
political character and aims of, 292, 302–308, 317–327;
and Far East, 299;
her sea routes threatened by Great Britain, 312–316, 333, 336.
_See_ NAVY, GERMAN
Gibraltar, an important base, 20, 22, 58, 69, 74, 152, 154;
acquired by Great Britain, 26, 147, 157;
siege of, 85, 86, 107, 178;
Nelson at, 196, 199, 209
Good Hope, Cape of, 20, 26, 33, 51, 152, 290, 314
Graves, British Admiral, off the Chesapeake, 160, 164–170
Gravina, Spanish Admiral, at Trafalgar, 210–211, 214, 219–220
Great Britain, growth of, in naval power, #$1#, 32–34, 43–44;
colonial policy of, 45, 46, 343;
naval policy of, 47–48, 141–146;
community of interests with United States, 111, 291–295, 318–332;
in American Revolution, 143–144;
gains of, in Seven Years’ War, 147–154;
navy her first line of defense, 191–195;
in commerce warfare with Napoleon, 223–228, 310–311;
and problem of imperial federation, 293;
threatened by Germany, 302–308;
policy of, relating to seizure of private property at sea, 333–338.
_See_ NAVY, BRITISH
Guadeloupe, 25, 143
Guantanamo, 58, 103–107, 111
Hague, The, 155–157, 165, 166.
_See_ PEACE CONFERENCES
Haiti, 105, 108
Halifax, 105
Hamilton, Lady Emma, 200
Hampton Roads, #$1#, 59, 66, 89, 241, 246
Hannibal, campaigns of, 4, 14
Havana, 39, 59, 88, 89, 105, 106, 110, 143, 166, 241, 246, 247
Havre, 174
Hawaiian Islands, value of, to the United States, 285–287, 356, 357;
Japanese in, 301
Hawke, British Admiral, 155
Heligoland, #$1#
Holland, dependent on commerce, 161;
as a sea power, 22, 23;
trade of, 25;
closes Belgian ports, 30;
raids Chatham, 30;
naval rivalry with England, 32–34, 312, 313;
at war with Spain, 37–38, 342;
colonial policy of, 45–46;
rivers of, 69;
in wars of Louis XIV, 137–140;
in Napoleonic Wars, 193;
possible union with Germany, 320
Hood, British Admiral, 167, 168
Hotham, British Admiral, 81
Howe, British Admiral, policy of, 5;
in the battle of June First, 175–183
Hudson River, 31, 166
India, British in, 147, 151, 317, 343;
route to, 152, 153
Interior Lines, value of, in warfare, 51–67;
illustrated, 103, 314
International Law, regard for, in Napoleonic Wars, 227–228;
inadequate to check national aggressions, 300
Ireland, 37, 313
Italy, position of, 26;
exposed by sea, 36–37;
in wars of France and Austria, 50, 56, 60;
unification of, 292;
interests of, opposed to those of Germany and Austria, 305–306, 317
Jamaica, lost by Spain, 39;
threatening position of, 58;
strategic value of, 100–112
James II, of England, 38, 277;
fighting instructions issued by, 157–158
Japan, influenced by Mahan’s writings, #$1#;
in war with Russia, 56, 57, 60;
influence in Asia, 76–78, 82–84;
coerced by the European powers, 291–292;
growth of, 296–297, 326;
and the Open Door Policy, 299–301;
compared with Germany, 303, 324;
and Great Britain, 306–307, 318, 320;
emigration from, 349–352.
_See_ RUSSO-JAPANESE WAR
Jervis. _See_ ST. VINCENT
Jomini, on strategy, 11, 12, 49, 321;
on strategic lines, 64, 65, 238;
on Napoleon, 80;
on British sea power, 141
June First, battle of, 175–183
Kamimura, Japanese Admiral, 66
Kamranh Bay, 83
Keith, British Admiral, 194
Key West, 29, 36, 111, 241, 269
Kiel Canal, #$1#, 51
Kingston, in Canada, 231–240;
in Jamaica, 107
Korea, 256, 300, 346
Kuropatkin, Russian General, 256, 257
Lafayette, General, 164, 169
La Hogue, battle of, 155–157, 165, 166
Levant, trade of, 33
Line of Battle, of fleets, 62, 156, 158, 162, 163.
_See_ STRATEGIC LINES
Logistics, defined, 49
London, 30
Louis XIV, of France, 37, 155;
wars of, 137–141
Louis XVI, of France, 172
Louisburg, 20, 154
Macdonough, Commodore, 142
Madagascar, #$1#, 82
Madrid, 81, 209
Magellan, Straits of, 51, 67, 290
Malta, 20, 26, 58, 70, 107, 152, 287
Manchuria, 56, 57, 267, 300
Manila, 39, 143
Mantua, 76, 80
Marengo, battle of, 13, 14, 76, 257
Marlborough, Duke of, 142
Martinique, 25, 74, 104, 143, 154, 160, 161, 196, 241
Masampo Bay, 66
Mauritius, 20, 152
Mediterranean Sea, position of France on, 22, 59, 140;
importance of, as a trade route, 27, 31, 39, 289–290;
Villeneuve ordered to, 198–199;
bases in, 287, 314
Metz, 71
Mexico, Gulf of, 29, 31, 35, 36, 65, 66;
strategic features of, 100–112, 325
Milan, 50, 53
Minorca, 39, 107, 147, 154, 158
Mississippi River, importance of, 29, 31, 35, 69, 100, 101;
in the Civil War, 42, 76, 143
Mobile Bay, battle of, 64, 251
Mona Passage, 102
Monroe Doctrine, 102, 111, 149, 288–291, 318, 320–322, 325, 356
Montreal, 231, 233, 234, 238, 240
Moore, Sir John, 81
Morocco, 306, 318, 320
Mukden, battle of, 56, 256
Naples, 38, 39
Napoleon, as a strategian, 11;
anecdote of, 12–14;
quoted, 4, 14, 55, 58, 70, 78, 110, 155, 173, 241, 271, 287, 296,
335;
at Marengo and Mantua, 76, 257;
a believer in the offensive, 80, 81, 152, 153;
in commerce warfare with Great Britain, 92, 93, 95, 223–228, 331;
armies of, 172;
and the northern neutrals, 184, 187;
his plan for the invasion of England, 191–198;
and the Trafalgar campaign, 221–223, 248;
downfall of, 237;
at Waterloo, 239
Napoleonic Wars, 12, 31, 80, 81, 142, 307, 310, 343
Naval Administration, civil _vs._ military, 113–115;
in peace and war, 115–118;
British, 118–122;
United States, 122–124.
_See_ ADMIRALTY
Naval Training, 8–15
Naval War College, Mahan at, #$1#;
aims of, 10–15
Navarino, battle of, 178
Navies, motives for, 18, 355–357;
a protection for commerce, 19;
fighting order of, 61;
an offensive weapon, 71–73
Navigation Acts, British, 337
Navy, _British_;
training of officers in, 8–9;
compared with French, 43;
maneuvers of, 72;
tactics of, in the 18th century, 156–158;
protection afforded by, 306–308;
_French_:
training of officers in, 8–9;
compared with British, 43;
weakness of, in Revolutionary Wars, 146, 171–174, 178;
faulty policy of, 155–158;
_German_: growth and purpose of, 111, 299, 307, 317–320;
_United States_:
interested chiefly in material, 8;
in Civil War, 41;
insufficient, 44;
in Spanish War, 59–60, 245, 250–253;
concentration of fleet of, 60, 274–275;
administration of, 122–124;
requirements of, 128–134
Nebogatoff, Russian Admiral, 83
Nelson, British Admiral, his place as a naval leader, #$1#;
in the Trafalgar campaign, 5, 62, 63, 196–223;
his pursuit of Napoleon in the Mediterranean, 58;
on concentration, 61;
quoted, 80, 82, 85, 175, 253;
and the rule of obedience, 126–127;
in the Copenhagen campaign, 184–190;
in command of channel forces, 191–192, 195
Netherlands. _See_ BELGIUM; HOLLAND
Neutrality, League of Armed, 184–190
Newport, Rhode Island, #$1#, 164, 166
New York, 31, 69, 73, 164–167
Niagara frontier, warfare on, 231–232, 235–236
Nile, battle of, 153
North Sea, 23, 25, 51, 313–316
Nossi-Bé, 82, 83
Offensive, advantage of, in war, 128–133, 229, 309–311;
operations of, discussed, 79–86;
navy chiefly useful for, 70–73
Ontario, Lake, campaign on, in War of 1812, 229–240
Open Door Policy, 299–301, 325, 356, 357
_Oregon_, United States ship, 59, 60
Oswego, 232
Pacific Coast, of United States, 35, 40, 67, 111, 112, 285, 289;
immigration to, 350, 356
Pacific Ocean, interest of the United States in, 289, 299–301
Panama Canal, its effect on naval policy, 18, 27–29, 325;
an interior line, 51, 301;
central position of, 67, 70, 77;
strategic importance of, 100–112, 149, 150, 356–357;
need of controlling approaches to, 285–287;
and the Monroe Doctrine, 288–291, 318
Paris, Treaty of, 147–148;
Declaration of, 99, 337;
city of, 198
Parker, British Admiral, 184–190
Peace Conferences, at The Hague, #$1#, 132, 331, 342, 346
Peninsular War, 81, 82
Pensacola, 29
Philippine Islands, 252, 349
Pitt, Sir William, British Prime Minister, 143, 151
Plevna, 56, 57
Plymouth, England, 24, 31
Pondicherry, 78, 154
Population, affecting sea power, 43–44;
of Pacific Coast, 301
Port Arthur, threatening Japanese communications, 56, 57;
attacked by siege, 71, 82;
squadron based on, 256–271, 275
Port Mahon, 289
Porto Rico, 241, 349
Ports, in Gulf and Caribbean, 128, 29;
flanking communications, 56–58
Portsmouth, England, 31
Preparation, for war, 128–134, 229–230, 237–238, 357
Private property at sea, immunity of, 78, 93, 98, 99, 328–341;
Rule of 1756 regarding, 227–228
Prussia, 147, 153, 189, 191, 228
Puget Sound, 67
Pyrenees, 52, 65
Ratisbon, 50
Red Sea, 152
Resources, affecting strategic value of positions, 68, 69, 74
Revel, 188–190
Rhine River, 50, 52, 53, 55, 56, 60, 197.
Richelieu, Cardinal, 31, 60
Rions, Commodore de, 174
Robespierre, 178
Rochambeau, 164, 166, 170
Rochefort, 174, 192
Rodney, Admiral, in battle with De Guichen, 155, 159–164
Roman Empire, 301
Rooke, British Admiral, 156, 157
Rosily, French Admiral, 199, 208, 221
Rotterdam, 336
_Royal Sovereign_, British ship, 123–217
Rozhestvensky, Russian Admiral, 66, 70, 82–84, 257, 265, 270, 274,
276–282
Russia, trade of, 25;
alliance of, 53;
in Asia, 76–78, 153, 300;
in Seven Years’ War, 147;
in Napoleonic Wars, 184–190, 192, 224–226;
a member of the Entente, 305, 317–318;
decreased strength of, 322;
her need of a navy, 327, 355–356.
_See_ RUSSO-JAPANESE WAR
Russo-Japanese War, 56–57, 64, 66, 82–84, 88, 256–282, 355
Sackett’s Harbor, 232, 239
St. George’s Channel, 37
St. Helena, 20, 152
St. Lawrence, Gulf of, 20;
river, true frontier in 1812, 230 ff.
St. Thomas, 103
St. Vincent, Lord, policy of, 5, 193
Saint-André, French Commissioner, 173, 179
Saints’ Passage, battle of, 160, 169
Samana Bay, 103
Sampson, Admiral, #$1#, 241, 249, 250–255
Santa Lucia, 74, 103, 105, 108
Santiago de Cuba, 71, 103, 104, 107, 241, 243, 246, 247;
blockade and battle of, 250–255
_Santisima Trinidad_, Spanish ship, 214, 215, 217, 218, 220
Sardinia, 37
Scheldt River, 30, 248
Schleswig Holstein, 349
Schley, Admiral, 241, 246
Sea Power, dependence on, a British policy, #$1#;
scope of history of, 3;
elements of, 16–47;
conditions affecting, 21;
growth of British, 141–146, 151–152;
controls communications, 77–78;
decisive in warfare, 98, 99;
an important element in national growth, 154, 286–287;
in Napoleonic Wars, 191–197, 221–224;
a protection against aggressions by land powers, 306–308;
interest in, 326–327
Secession, War of. _See_ CIVIL WAR
Semenoff, Russian Captain, quoted, 280
Seven Years’ War, 85–86, 142–144, 147–154, 307
Shafter, General, 269
Sherman, General, quoted, 335
Ship design, unity of purpose in, 61–62
Sicily, 37, 38, 39, 42
Situation, determines strategic value of a point, 69–70, 110
Smith, Sir Sidney, 126
Socotra, 152
Sound, between North and Baltic Seas, 51, 185, 186, 190
South Africa, 290;
war in, 293–295, 347
South America, unstable political conditions in, 148–149;
application of Monroe Doctrine to, 290
Spain, position of, 26;
dependence on sea power, 38, 39;
colonial policy of, 45;
in 18th century, 141–142, 143–144, 151–152;
in Napoleonic Wars, 81, 221, 226;
colonial empire of, lost, 291, 342.
_See_ SPANISH-AMERICAN WAR
Spanish-American War, strategy of, #$1#, 59–60, 88–90;
Cervera’s fleet in, 241–249;
Santiago blockade, 250–255;
strengthened Anglo-American unity, 291–295;
could not have been avoided by arbitration, 342, 348–349
Speed, of battleships, 61, 246–248
Strasburg, 71, 137
Strategic Lines and Positions, in the Caribbean, 65–78, 100–112;
in the War of 1812, 238–240
Strategy, defined, 4, 12, 49;
value of study of, 5;
in War of 1812, 229–240;
must take into account political conditions, 250–253, 320–327;
illustrated by mistakes, 257;
must be exercised in time of peace, 274;
chief aim of, 311
Submarines, 70, 99
Suez Canal, 26, 28, 51, 70, 77, 152, 252, 261, 289, 290
Suffren, French Admiral, 86, 153
Sully, French Minister, 38
Suvarof, General, 262
Sweden, trade of, 25;
in Thirty Years’ War, 53;
in 1800, 184–190
Tactics, defined, 4, 49;
illustrated in history, 5–7;
in naval combats, 62–64;
formalism in, 155–158;
changes in, at close of 18th century, 159 ff., 168;
chief aim of, 311
Territory, extent of, affecting sea power, 39–42
Texel, 193
Tobago, 160
Togo, Japanese Admiral, 60, 66, 82–84, 90, 270, 276–280
Torbay, 24
Toronto, 231, 236
Torpedo craft, 130–134
Torrington, British Admiral, 242, 248
Toulon, 57, 58, 154, 174, 192, 193, 196, 248
Tourville, French Admiral, 80, 81, 155, 159, 207
Trade. _See_ COMMERCE
Trafalgar, battle of, 5, 62, 192, 194, 196–223, 248
Trieste, 306
Trincomalee, 86
Triple Alliance, 53, 304–306, 317–318
Triple Entente. _See_ ENTENTE
Tsushima, battle of, 64, 70, 82–84, 88, 265, 276–282
Turkey, 33, 148, 150
Ulm, 50, 71, 76, 191
United States, merchant marine of, 18, 35;
geographical position of, 22;
and Panama Canal, 27–29;
seacoasts of, inadequately protected, 34–36;
exposed only by sea, 39;
deficient in seafaring population, 44;
colonial policy of, 46;
seacoasts of, regarded as a line, 65–67;
naval requirements of, 133–134;
community of interests with Great Britain, 291–295, 306–308, 318–327;
expansion of, 297–298;
and the Open Door Policy, 299;
political ideals of, 302;
policy of, regarding commerce warfare, 331–333.
_See_ NAVY, UNITED STATES
Utrecht, peace of, 141–142
Vengeur, French ship, 180–182
Venice, 306
_Victory_, Nelson’s flagship, 213–214
Vigo Bay, 157
Villaret-Joyeuse, French Admiral, 178
Villeneuve, French Admiral, quoted, 173;
in Trafalgar campaign, 196, 199, 202, 210–223
Vistula River, 12, 78
Vladivostok, 66, 73, 82, 83, 88;
squadron based on, 256–261, 265, 266, 270, 274;
objective of Rozhestvensky, 276–282
Von der Goltz, General, quoted, 321
War, principles of, 6;
causes of, 148;
preparedness for, 128–134;
beneficial results of, 292–295, 342–354
War of 1812, commerce warfare in, 91–99, 226–228;
strategy of, 229–240
Washington, General, 164;
quoted, 169, 170
Washington, city of, 31
Waterloo, battle of, 82, 239
Weapons, changes in, 6
Wellington, Duke of, 82, 234, 239
West Indies, a source of wealth for Spain, 37;
Nelson in, 196–197, 202.
_See_ CARIBBEAN SEA
William II, of England, 81, 277, 281
Wilkinson, General, 238
Windward Passage, 102
Wireless, in war, 84, 85
Yalu River, 268
Yang-tse River, 276
Yeo, British Commodore, 235
Yucatan Passage, 102, 104
Zuyder Zee, 34
-----
Footnote 1:
“From Sail to Steam,” p. xiv.
Footnote 2:
“From Sail to Steam,” p. 55.
Footnote 3:
See pp. 328–341.
Footnote 4:
Rear Admiral Bradley A. Fiske, _U. S. Naval Institute_,
January–February, 1915, p. 2.
Footnote 5:
“La Maîtrise de la Mer,” Auguste Moireau, _Revue des Deux Mondes_,
October, 1902.
Footnote 6:
“Of Kingdoms and Estates.”
Footnote 7:
“The Revival of Naval History,” _Contemporary Review_. November, 1917.
While the term “political pamphlet” suggests the influence of the book
abroad, it is obviously inappropriate in describing its purpose and
method of treatment.
Footnote 8:
“The Kaiser’s Dreams of Sea Power,” Archibald Hurd, _Fortnightly
Review_, August, 1906.
Footnote 9:
“From Sail to Steam,” p. 303.
Footnote 10:
“Captain Romeo Bernotti,” letter to the editor, April 25, 1918.
Footnote 11:
“A Great Public Servant,” _The Outlook_, January 13, 1915.
Footnote 12:
“From Sail to Steam,” p. 288.
Footnote 13:
“The Influence of Sea Power upon History,” pp. 1–2, 8–10.
Footnote 14:
“Naval Administration and Warfare,” Objects of the Naval War College
(1888), pp. 193–194, 233–240.
Footnote 15:
In a preceding passage the author shows that American naval thought
has been preoccupied with problems of material.—EDITOR.
Footnote 16:
“The Influence of Sea Power upon History,” pp. 25–59. Mr. S. G. W.
Benjamin has pointed out (N. Y. _Times_ Book Review, Feb. 2, 1902)
that it was in the preface and opening chapter of this book,
“comprising only eighty-nine pages, that Captain Mahan brought forward
his famous presentation of the theory about the influence of sea power
on empire.” The present selection includes the major part of the first
chapter.—EDITOR.
Footnote 17:
For the author’s later opinion on the need of a navy, see pp.
355–357.—EDITOR.
Footnote 18:
Written before 1890.—EDITOR.
Footnote 19:
By a base of permanent operations “is understood a country whence come
all the resources, where are united the great lines of communication
by land and water, where are the arsenals and armed posts.”
Footnote 20:
“Naval Administration and Warfare,” pp. 199, 206. For the distinction
drawn, see also pp. 4, 12.—EDITOR.
Footnote 21:
“Naval Strategy,” pp. 31–53.
Footnote 22:
An interesting instance of the method and forethought which cause
German naval development of all kinds to progress abreast, on parallel
lines, is found in the fact that by the time the three Dreadnoughts
laid down in 1911 are completed, and with them two complete
Dreadnought squadrons of eight each, which probably will be in 1914,
the Kiel Canal will have been enlarged to permit their passage. There
will then be a fleet of thirty-eight battleships; including these
sixteen, which will be stationed, eight in the North Sea, eight in the
Baltic, linked for mutual support by the central canal. The programme
contemplates a continuous prearranged replacing of the present
pre-Dreadnoughts by Dreadnoughts.
Footnote 23:
See map on page 278.
Footnote 24:
“Naval Strategy,” pp. 130–163.
Footnote 25:
“Naval Strategy,” pp. 166–167. For illustration and further discussion
of strategic lines, see “General Strategy of the War of 1812,” in this
volume, pp. 229–240.—EDITOR.
Footnote 26:
“The Problem of Asia” (1900), pp. 124–127.
Footnote 27:
“Naval Strategy,” pp. 266–272.
Footnote 28:
“Naval Strategy,” pp. 277–280.
Footnote 29:
“Sea Power in its Relations to the War of 1812,” Vol. I, pp. 284–290.
Footnote 30:
“History of the United States,” Vol. VIII, chap. VIII.
Footnote 31:
“The Influence of Sea Power upon History,” p. 138.
Footnote 32:
This immunity of enemy property in neutral ships, guaranteed by the
Declaration of Paris in 1856, has been to a large extent nullified in
recent practice by extension of the lists of contraband, to say
nothing of the violations of all law in submarine warfare.—EDITOR.
Footnote 33:
“Naval Strategy,” pp. 303–304, 356–367, 381–382.
Footnote 34:
“Naval Administration and Warfare” (1903), pp. 5–11.
Footnote 35:
“Naval Administration and Warfare” (1903). pp. 26–31.
Footnote 36:
“Naval Administration and Warfare” (1903), pp. 46–48.
Footnote 37:
These bureaus are seven in number: Yards and Docks, Navigation,
Ordnance, Construction and Repairs, Steam Engineering, Supplies and
Accounts, and Medicine and Surgery. The Chief of Naval Operations,
whose office was created in 1915, stands second to the Secretary and
acts as his expert professional adviser, with the specific task of
co-ordinating the work of the navy, preparing plans, and directing
operations in war. He is, _ex officio_, a member of the General Board
of the Navy, created in 1900, which serves as an expert advisory
body.—EDITOR.
Footnote 38:
“Retrospect and Prospect,” pp. 258–259, 270–272.
Footnote 39:
“The Interest of America in Sea Power” (1896), pp. 192–200.
Footnote 40:
Bombardment of _undefended_ ports, towns, etc., is forbidden by
Convention IX of the Hague conference of 1907, with the broad
concession, however, that depots, store houses, and all constructions
that serve military purposes may be destroyed.—EDITOR.
Footnote 41:
“The Influence of Sea Power upon History” (1660–1783), pp. 197–200.
Admiral Mahan’s major historical works treat consecutively the history
of naval warfare from 1660 to 1815; and his essays and shorter studies
cover subsequent wars. The selections in Part II are arranged in
chronological order.—EDITOR.
Footnote 42:
“The Influence of Sea Power upon History,” pp. 63–67.
Footnote 43:
An interesting proof of the weight attributed to the naval power of
Great Britain by a great military authority will be found in the
opening chapter of Jomini’s “History of the Wars of the French
Revolution.” He lays down, as a fundamental principle of European
policy, that an unlimited expansion of naval force should not be
permitted to any nation which cannot be approached by land,—a
description which can apply only to Great Britain.
Footnote 44:
“The Influence of Sea Power upon History,” pp. 323–329. By the Treaty
of Paris, 1763, England secured Canada, all French possessions east of
the Mississippi, and Florida; she also retained Gibraltar and Minorca,
and gained ascendancy in India.—EDITOR.
Footnote 45:
See Annual Register, 1762, p. 63.
Footnote 46:
Campbell, “Lives of the Admirals.”
Footnote 47:
These remarks, always true, are doubly so now since the introduction
of steam. The renewal of coal is a want more frequent, more urgent,
more peremptory, than any known to the sailing-ship. It is vain to
look for energetic naval operations distant from coal stations. It is
equally vain to acquire distant coaling stations without maintaining a
powerful navy; they will but fall into the hands of the enemy. But the
vainest of all delusions is the expectation of bringing down an enemy
by commerce-destroying alone, with no coaling stations outside the
national boundaries.
Footnote 48:
“Types of Naval Officers,” pp. 14–17.
Footnote 49:
A celebrated French admiral, in command at the battles of Beachy Head
(1690) and La Hogue (1692).—EDITOR.
Footnote 50:
The most famous of these were issued in 1665 by the Duke of York,
afterward James II, who was then Lord High Admiral. They were revised
but not greatly altered in 1740 and again in 1756.—EDITOR.
Footnote 51:
Byng’s offense, for which he was sentenced to be shot, occurred in an
action with a French squadron off Minorca in 1756.—EDITOR.
Footnote 52:
“The Influence of Sea Power upon History,” pp. 377–380.
Footnote 53:
De Grasse, whose victory over Graves off the Chesapeake forced the
surrender of Cornwallis, was afterward defeated by Rodney in the
famous battle of the Saints’ Passage, April 12, 1782. Three days
earlier, De Grasse had neglected an opportunity to attack in superior
force.
While the battle of the Saints’ Passage is more celebrated, the action
here described better illustrates Rodney’s merits as a tactician. In
his later years Rodney wrote that he “thought little of his victory of
the 12th of April,” and looked upon this earlier action as “one by
which, but for the disobedience of his captains, he might have gained
immortal renown.”—Mahan, “Types of Naval Officers,” p. 203.—EDITOR.
Footnote 54:
The black ships, in position A, represent the English ships bearing
down upon the French center and rear. The line v r is the line of
battle from van to rear before bearing down. The positions v´, r´ are
those of the van and rear ships after hauling up on the port tack,
when the French wore.—EDITOR.
Footnote 55:
In a severe reprimand addressed to Captain Carkett, commanding the
leading ship of the English line, by Rodney, he says: “Your leading in
the manner you did, induced others to follow so bad an example; and
thereby, forgetting that the signal for the line was at only two
cables’ length distance from each other, the van division was led by
you to _more than two leagues distance_ from the center division,
which was thereby exposed to the greatest strength of the enemy, and
not properly supported” (Life, Vol. I, p. 351). By all rules of
tactical common-sense it would seem that the other ships should have
taken their distance from their next astern, that is, should have
closed toward the center. In conversation with Sir Gilbert Blane, who
was not in this action, Rodney stated that the French line extended
Your leagues in length, “as if De Guichen thought we meant to run away
from him” (_Naval Chronicle_, Vol. XXV, p. 402).
Footnote 56:
“The Influence of Sea Power upon History,” pp. 387–391, 397.
Footnote 57:
Now Cape Haitien, Haiti.—EDITOR.
Footnote 58:
Bancroft, “History of the United States.”
Footnote 59:
With the reinforcement brought by De Grasse, Lafayette’s army numbered
about 8,000; the troops brought by Washington and Rochambeau consisted
of 2,000 Americans and 4,000 French.—EDITOR.
Footnote 60:
The action itself is more fully described in Mahan’s “Major Operations
of the Navies in the War of American Independence,” from which the
diagram on page 167 is taken. In the diagram, a a indicates the
positions of the two fleets when De Grasse came out of the bay; b b,
the positions when the order to engage was given; f, Graves’s
flagship, and h, Hood. Having approached the enemy with his twelve
leading ships, Graves gave the order to bear down and engage, though
he still kept the signal for “line ahead” flying. Whether through
inability or misinterpretation of orders, the rear under Hood failed
to get in range.
Hood afterward criticised his superior severely on the grounds, (1)
that the fleet was not brought into proper position to engage, and (2)
that, upon engaging, the “line ahead” signal should have been hauled
down. He interpreted this signal as meaning that no ship could close
beyond a line through the flagship and parallel to the enemy line.
Graves next day issued a memorandum to the effect that the line ahead
was a means to an end, not an end in itself, and “that the signal for
battle should not be rendered ineffective by strict adherence to the
former.” The confusion was such as frequently arose in this period of
transition from one system of tactics to another.—EDITOR.
Footnote 61:
“Types of Naval Officers,” pp. 35–37, 41.
Footnote 62:
Chevalier, “Mar. Fran, sous la République,” p. 49.
Footnote 63:
Nap. to Decrès, Aug. 29, 1805.
Footnote 64:
Troude, “Batailles Nav.,” Vol. III, p. 370.
Footnote 65:
Commodore de Rions, a member of the nobility, who was imprisoned at
Toulon and afterward fled from the country.—EDITOR.
Footnote 66:
“Types of Naval Officers,” pp. 308–317. The “Glorious First of June”
is one of the most important naval actions in the wars of the French
Revolution, and illustrates the work of an officer who stood in his
own day conspicuously at the head of his profession. The selection is
interesting also as showing that, when it suited his purpose, Admiral
Mahan could write with notable ease and pictorial vigor.—EDITOR.
Footnote 67:
“The Influence of Sea Power upon the French Revolution and Empire,”
Vol. II, pp. 42–47. The campaign is treated more fully in “The Life of
Nelson,” Vol. II, p. 70 _ff._—EDITOR.
Footnote 68:
Nelson’s Letters and Dispatches, Vol. IV, p. 295.
Footnote 69:
Nelson’s Dispatches, Vol. IV., p. 355.
Footnote 70:
Nelson’s Dispatches, April 9, 1801, Vol. IV, pp. 339, 341.
Footnote 71:
“The Influence of Sea Power upon the French Revolution and Empire,”
Vol. II, pp. 117–120.
Footnote 72:
_Ibid._, p. 106.
Footnote 73:
See “Naval Chronicle,” Vol. X, pp. 508, 510; Vol. XI, p. 81; Nelson’s
Dispatches, Vol. V, p. 438.
Footnote 74:
Pellew’s “Life of Lord Sidmouth,” Vol. II, p. 237.
Footnote 75:
Nelson’s Dispatches, Vol. IV, p. 452.
Footnote 76:
“The Influence of Sea Power upon the French Revolution and Empire,”
Vol. II, pp. 184–197, 199–202, 356–357.
Footnote 77:
“The Influence of Sea Power upon the French Revolution and Empire”,
Vol. II, p. 181.
Footnote 78:
Napoleon to St. Cyr, Sept. 2, 1805.
Footnote 79:
Napoleon to Decrès, Sept. 15.
Footnote 80:
_Ibid._, Sept. 4.
Footnote 81:
Nelson’s Dispatches, Vol. VII, p. 80.
Footnote 82:
The following account of Nelson’s arrival and his plan of battle is
taken from the fuller narrative in “The Life of Nelson,” Vol. II, pp.
339–351.—EDITOR.
Footnote 83:
Inserted by author.
Footnote 84:
Here the narrative is resumed from “The Influence of Sea Power upon
the French Revolution and Empire.”—EDITOR.
Footnote 85:
Fyffe’s “History of Modern Europe,” Vol. I, p. 281.
Footnote 86:
To the King of Wurtemburg, April 2, 1811; “Corr.,” Vol. XXII, p. 19.
Footnote 87:
“Sea Power in its Relations with the War of 1812,” Vol. I, pp.
295–308; Vol. II, pp. 121–125.
Footnote 88:
Kingsford’s “History of Canada,” Vol. VIII, p. 111.
Footnote 89:
Drummond to Prevost, Oct. 20, 1814. Report on Canadian Archives, 1896,
Upper Canada, p. 9.
Footnote 90:
_Ibid._, Oct. 15.
Footnote 91:
Prevost to Bathurst, Aug. 14, 1814. Report on Canadian Archives, 1896,
Lower Canada, p. 36.
Footnote 92:
“Travels,” J. M. Duncan, Vol. II, p. 27.
Footnote 93:
“Life of Brock,” p. 193.
Footnote 94:
Smyth, “Précis of the Wars in Canada,” p. 167.
Footnote 95:
The United States Secretary of War.—EDITOR.
Footnote 96:
December 17, 1813. Captain’s Letters, Navy Department.
Footnote 97:
“Lessons of the War with Spain” (1899), pp. 75–85.
Footnote 98:
_Ibid._, p. 157.
Footnote 99:
In this number is included the _Emperador Carlos V_, which, however,
did not accompany the other four under Cervera.
Footnote 100:
“Lessons of the War with Spain” (1899), pp. 184–191.
Footnote 101:
“Naval Strategy,” pp. 383–401.
Footnote 102:
The Kobe _Chronicle_, February 25, 1904; an English newspaper
published in Japan.
Footnote 103:
“Naval Administration and Warfare,” Retrospect upon the War between
Russia and Japan (March, 1906) pp. 167–173.
Footnote 104:
“Naval Strategy,” pp. 416–420.
Footnote 105:
“The rise or fall of the Empire depends upon to-day’s battle. Let
every man do his utmost.”—EDITOR.
Footnote 106:
“The Interest of America in Sea Power,” Hawaii and Our Future Sea
Power (1893), pp. 51–54.
Footnote 107:
“The Problem of Asia” (1900), pp. 133–144.
Footnote 108:
“The writer has been assured, by an authority in which he entirely
trusts, that to a proposition made to Great Britain (at the time of
the Spanish-American War) to enter into a combination to constrain the
Use of our power,—as Japan was five years ago constrained by the joint
action of Russia, France, and Germany,—the reply was not only a
passive refusal to enter into such combination, but an assurance of
active resistance to it, if attempted.”—Mahan, “The Problem of Asia”
(1900), p. 187.—EDITOR.
Footnote 109:
“Retrospect and Prospect” (1902), pp. 15–17.
Footnote 110:
“The Interest of America in International Conditions,” The Open Door
(1910), pp. 198–202.
Footnote 111:
“The Interest of America in International Conditions” (1910), pp.
38–46.
Footnote 112:
_The Mail_, April 20, 1910.
Footnote 113:
“The Interest of America in International Conditions” (1910), pp.
161–164.
Footnote 114:
“Retrospect and Prospect,” Considerations Governing the Disposition of
Navies (1902), pp. 151–170.
Footnote 115:
“Naval Strategy” (1911), pp. 104–112.
Footnote 116:
Since this was written, a new Treaty of Alliance between Great Britain
and Japan, operative for ten years, has been signed—July 13, 1911. By
its terms either Power will be released from its military obligation
to the other, as against a third with which it may have a treaty of
general arbitration, such as that framed between Great Britain and the
United States.
Footnote 117:
Since these words were written such formal announcement has been made
by a member of the British Cabinet, Sir Edward Grey, the Secretary for
Foreign Affairs, on May 23, 1911. _The Mail_, May 24, 1911.
Footnote 118:
“Some Neglected Aspects of War” (1907), pp. 171–191.
Footnote 119:
The Napoleonic Wars, the War of 1812, and the American Civil War. For
the effect of commerce warfare in these struggles, see pp.
91–99.—EDITOR.
Footnote 120:
Vol. I, pp. 146–148.
Footnote 121:
The “Times” of October 14, 1905.
Footnote 122:
Indirect, I presume.
Footnote 123:
“Some Neglected Aspects of War,” The Peace Conference and the Moral
Aspect of War (1899), pp. 45–52.
Footnote 124:
Lest this be misunderstood to be an allusion to the recent measures of
Japan in Korea, I renew here the caution that in this article all
references to the Peace Conference are to that of 1899.
Footnote 125:
“Some Neglected Aspects of War,” The Hague Conference and the
Practical Aspect of War (1907), pp. 75–80, 90–93.
Footnote 126:
“Naval Strategy,” pp. 445–447.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
1. Silently corrected obvious typographical errors and variations in
spelling.
2. Retained archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings as printed.
3. Re-indexed footnotes using numbers and collected together at the end
of the last chapter.
4. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.
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