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fleet in being are mutually exclusive terms." Certainly it so proved in Torrington's case. After his defeat he withdrew his fleet, which, though beaten, was far from being shattered, into the mouth of the Thames. Thereon De Tourville, the French admiral, not daring to risk any important operations while this fleet still threatened him, made a wholly unimportant raid on the coast of Devonshire, and so bore away for France. It is true that this one instance hardly constitutes a rule of strategy, and Major Callwell does not believe in the rule. He points out that on two occasions during the present century-the descent of Ibrahim Pasha on the Morea in 1825 and the invasion of the Crimea-this rule was neglected. On both occasions there was a fleet in being, yet both enterprises were carried to a successful issue. In the first case the Greek admiral, Miaulis, had a general command of the sea, but he loitered inactive in the Cyclades while Ibrahim's transports were at sea. In the second, the Allies invaded the Crimea while the Russian fleet was still unbroken. The French and Turkish warships were used as transports, leaving only the British to convoy them, and the Russians had in Sebastopol a squadron equal in strength to the convoying force. However, they made no move, and, in spite of the fleet in being, the landing was successfully accomplished. Major Callwell adduces a third instance in the recent invasion of Korea by the Japanese, although the Chinese fleet was still unbeaten and at large.

Mr Thursfield, who takes the other side, is able to bring to bear an equal, indeed a greater, number of instances, in which the fleet in being has succeeded in preventing serious enterprise. The example

of Torrington may be called a negative one. Tourville was deterred from his purpose of invading England, and there was an end of it. A good case, when the fleet in being was neglected with disastrous results, he quotes from the First Punic War. In 249 B.C. the Romans attacked the fortress of Lilyboum although the Carthaginians had a fleet in being: they sustained a smashing defeat, and only thirty ships were saved out of over two hundred. Another case was Napoleon's invasion of Egypt, hard on the top of which Nelson's fleet in being asserted itself at the Nile, and the expeditionary army was ruined. The instance from the Chino-Japanese war Mr Thursfield meets with the reply that had Admiral Ting been a Nelson the Japanese invaders must have been ruined. No doubt. Only we are not all Nelsons; indeed, Nelsons are very rare. But Mr Thursfield is not really begging the question, though he seems to be. He appears to us to put the matter on its right footing when he says that "a temporary evasion of the fleet in being is always possible-perhaps in some rare and exceptional cases it may be justified... by a sound estimate of the relative forces engaged." And he points out with great force that the battle of the Yalu and Ting's subsequent retreat prove that Admiral Ito had rightly estimated the value of the Chinese fleet in being. The truth is that the difference between Major Call well and Mr Thursfield is much less than it appears. It is a difference rather in statement than in principle. The former takes the maxim to be absolute and unconditioned, that a fleet in being must in all cases debar operations while it remains in being. So stated, no doubt it can be proved incorrect. Mr Thursfield takes the maxim to

mean that the fleet in being, when properly handled or when there is an expectation that it will be properly handled, must debar operations. No doubt there are opponents in dealing with whom it may be safe to neglect any rule of strategy ever formulated. The true leader reckons up his opponent, and according to that reckoning he takes risks or he does not. But whether the risks turn out well or ill, the principles of strategy remain as true as ever.

In a masterly introduction the joint authors of 'The Navy and the Nation' explain the purport of their book. What that is the references we have already made to its teaching will have explained. The vital dependence of our country and our empire on the command of the sea; the truth that this can only be exerted by a superior fleet at sea; the certainty that, so long as we possess that, no mortal hurt can befall us at the hands of any assailant,-these supreme principles of true British policy are insisted upon again and again, variously and in various contexts, but always with convincing lucidity and force. To some readers the iteration may appear superfluous, especially as the two writers have wittingly allowed their views, and almost their expressions, to overlap. But to the reader who thinks the repetitions superfluous, we should advise half an hour with this book whenever he feels disposed to reflect on questions of defensive policy and of strategy. He will then perceive that though it is comparatively easy to state the principles which underlie these essays, and perfectly easy to see their cogency when they are stated for him, it is yet a matter of some difficulty to get them so clearly and deeply into his head that they shall colour his whole habit of thought on such

questions. We see it every day. Men who have read the great works of Captain Mahan and Admiral Colomb with the immediate acceptance that they cannot fail to command, who, it may be, will remember these very essays in the form of their original publication-these same men, when they are left to themselves to speak or write of national defence, are constantly found forgetting their lesson and reverting to the fallacious theories on which they were brought up. They will catch themselves thinking of Malta as "commanding" the central Mediterranean, of a squadron in the Channel as necessary to defend our southern coasts and our seaborne trade. But if he will take down the 'The Navy and the Nation,' here is an ever-present reminder of the real facts. Without a fleet Malta commands nothing, not even itself. The Channel Squadron may easily be defending our coasts and our merchantmen off Toulon far more effectively than it could do at Portland; and the only defensive influence it exerts at Portland lies in the knowledge that it may, and, if need be, will, go somewhere else. Perhaps the best corrective of such persistent misapprehensions will be found in a brilliant essay by Sir George Clarke, entitled, "The German Strategist at Sea." The German strategist is at sea indeed, though not perhaps worse than many a Briton. But it is safe to say that nobody who has read Sir George Clarke's caustic and witty commentary on him will ever be quite so hopelessly at sea again.

Space is coming to an end, so that we are constrained to leave this altogether admirable volume with a less detailed examination than it deserves. If we have selected one essay as peculiarly instructive, it is only because

error is more effectively refuted in a concrete instance than by the mere exposition of the true doctrine. But of the chapters of 'The Navy and the Nation' we may say that, whether they discuss the naval history of the past or the naval conditions of the future, whether they deal with the central problem of defence or with such side-issues as national insurance, the training of naval officers, or the proper function of submarine mines, they are always sound and always enlightening. The whole book is knit together by the firm grasp of both its authors upon the unalterable first principles of naval war.

One of the most interesting passages in the book explains the increased validity-if we may use a paradox: perhaps it is better to say, the wider and fuller application-which these principles have derived from the modern technical conditions. Courage and coolness remain a potent factor, as ever; tactics strive, though by new means, towards the same end-an advantage in the use of the gun. But the telegraph and steam increase the swiftness with which naval command can assert itself, and the area over which it takes effect. The time required for such operations as an inferior fleet might venture against our islands -landing of troops or bombardments-has not been reduced in proportion to the time which will bring a superior fleet upon the landing or or bombarding force. Trading steamers are far less vulnerable than sailing-ships; they can separate if attacked, while even a single ship lost sight of at night can change her course in any direction, and is virtually safe. So that, as our authors remind us, "the command of the sea has now a significance which neither Raleigh nor Nelson could have divined."

We can find but one contention in this book which, as it is stated, appears to us open to some question. In the domain of national policy, our authors argue,—

"The necessity of maintaining naval supremacy-vital to us alone among the Powers of the world-ought to dominate every other consideration.

Did the inevitable advance of Russia from the Caspian to the frontier of India imperil our naval supremacy? If not, of what use were the flood of declamation and the protracted diplomatic warfare, each alike undignified and futile, of which the sole result was the estrangement of two nations, which have no real cause of disagreement. Is the military occupation of Egypt essential to the command of the sea? Would a Russian occupation of Constantinople, some twenty-six hours' steam from Sebastopol, compromise our naval position?"

These arguments appear to us to raise the question, Was the Navy made for the nation, or the nation for the Navy? No doubt we could give up Egypt and India, and almost our whole empire, and still maintain our naval supremacy. The only difference would be that in that case naval supremacy would find less work to do, although, of course, still essential to the inviolability of the British Isles. No doubt it is a strong argument against any foreign policy that it is antagonistic to naval supremacy, or increases the burden laid upon it. But we do not think maritime command can be made out the one end-hardly even the "basis"-of all British policy. That it is the indispensable condition of British policy, that we can do nothing without it, is the indisputable and invaluable principle of the book. Assuredly we should regulate our imperial expansion by our Navy. But should we rot also fit our Navy to our imperial expansion?

TRAVELLING JOE.

IT was Sunday: the mill was silent, and the water pressed idly against the big dam, opposite which stood old Zam Tapp's cottage. Zam was seated in the dark kitchen, a bucket of water between his knees, peeling potatoes; and lying in a truckle-bed was his grandson Travelling Joe, a boy of about nine years old, small, wizen, and partly paralysed. The tall clock in the corner of the room had struck twelve, and groups of people passed the cottage on their return from church and chapel. Zam, who did not "howld wi' zich things," eyed them with indifference, not unmixed with contempt. He "reckoned," he said, "thet ha didn't want no praicher to teach him tha way tu 'eaven; zalvation wez a kooris thing, and, like cream, let it alone and twid come to 'ee meddle and praying widn't fetch it."

To the boy lying there, his heart full of the spirit of adventure, and his life bounded by the truckle-bed and the four walls of the small kitchen, the thought of heaven was of piercing interest; it haunt ed his dreams sleeping and waking, it was his New America, the land which he would one day explore. To him it never ceased to be a matter of regret that the Crystal Sea lay in front of the throne of God; he would have wished it might have been in what he called the "dimmet1 part o' 'eaven"; a far border - land unknown to the angels, and where even the eye of God fell seldom. And now as he lay and watched Zam peeling the potatoes, he longed

unconsciously to hear the "loosing of the mill," for the sound of the great waters leaping forth was to him as the rushing of the River of Life.

Zam's mind was occupied by the thought of his dead wife. "Eh! eh!" he exclaimed, suddenly, "hur wez a windervul 'and at biling a tetty, wez my owld wuman, and when it coomed tu tha last hur mind dwelt on it painvul. 'Vather,' hur zed, 'I reckon I've cooked 'ee my last tetty.' 'I reckon 'ee 'ave, moather,' I answered. Hur wez zilent a bit, then all-ta-wance hur zot up in bed and ketched howldt o' me by tha weskit. Tull Jane' - thic wez yer pore moather-'tull Jane,' hur zed, 'twez tha zalt thet did it; twez all along o' tha zalt.' But, law bless 'ee, zalt or no zalt, Jane's tetties wez niver a patch on hurn. I reckon hur hand wull ba moast out o' biling tetties by tha time I jines hur; but law, I doant complain, moast like tez zweet stuff they lives on up ther: I niver cud stomach zich stuff mezulf; but bless 'ee, glory hez tu be paid for the zame ez tha rest."

A vision of his grandmother's portly form arose in the child's mind as he lay and listened. "Grandfer," he said, "do 'ee reckon thet grandmoather took tu wings natrel fust along?"

Zam stopped peeling the potatoes. "Many's tha time I've thought on thic, Joe," he answered, sorrowfully, "and I ba moast afeardt hur didn't; tha noo-fangled wez alwiz contrary tu hur, and if ther wez wan thing more than a

1 Dimmet, dusky, dim, full of shadows.

tother hur cudn't abide twez a loose veather in hur bed. Eh! eh! I wid dearly o' liked tu o' gone along fust and put hur in tha way o' things a bit; but ther, if yer doant lave things tu tha Almighty, who shall 'ee lave 'em to?"

"Tha Laurd ba turribul mindful o' poor folk," the boy said, questioningly.

"Ay, ay, lad," the old man answered, "ther ba a deal o' tha wuman about tha Almighty. Ha wull pramise 'ee an ill tarn if yer doant mend; but Ha ba zlow tu lay it on - zlow tu lay it on."

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Joe was silent a moment, and Zam began once more to peel the potatoes. At last the boy spoke. Sposing grandmother wez tu break hur wing," he cried, excitedly, "what then, grand ferwhat then?"

The old man flushed. (6 Angels baint for doing zich things ez thic, Joe," he answered; "ther's nort promiscuous in 'eaven. I reckon thet they thet ba noo tu tha trade flies mortal zlow fust along-zommat like owld Varmer Rod's payhen; no hitting o' theirselves agin a tray. Yer grandmoather kind o' thought o' thic hurzulf, and jest avor hur turned over in hur bed for tha last time, hur looked up in me vace kind o' trustzome, 'I'll take it aisy, vather,' hur zed, 'and tha Laurd wull do tha rast.' 'Eh! eh! moather,' I zed, 'Ha woant forzake 'ee. Ha's bin a pore man Hiszulf, an' knaws what tiz not tu ba larned.' Hur zmiled, but I zaw tha tears in hur eyes. 'I shall miss yer hand, vather,' hur zed, 'tha valley o' tha shader ba turribul dark.' 'Tha Laurd wull walk wi' 'ee, moather,' I zed, 'Hiz hand ba more restful than mine.' Eh, but vust along,' hur mur

mured, 'vust 'long'; then hur claused hur eyes and died quietvul. Hur wez mortal murch a duman, pore zoul. Conzarvitive to tha endconzarvitive to tha end."

Later, when the frugal dinner had been cooked and eaten, Zam drew his big arm-chair up to the fire and fell asleep. The boy closed his eyes too, but only that he might the more easily dwell in an imaginary world. He wondered what the far confines of heaven looked like, and whether he should find volcanoes there, and as he pictured the scene he suddenly startled the old man out of his sleep. "Grandfer, grandfer," he cried excitedly, "sposing 'eaven shid blaw up!"

"Bless tha boy," Zam answered, looking anxiously at the small fire, "I thought vor zure tha kettle wez biling auver."

"Naw, grandfer," said Joe, "I wez ony a-wondering what tha dimmet parts o' 'eaven might be arter when God wez kind o' thinking o' zômmat ulse."

Zam's deep-set eyes twinkled. "A bit contrary may ba," he said, "but nort lightzome, Joe- nort lightzome."

"Folk ba turribul spiritless up tu 'eaven," the boy answered, sadly. "They baistesses now that stand avor tha throne - do 'ee reckon thet they iver roar?"

"Wull," his grandfather answered after a moment, "I widn't reckon on it, if I wez you, JoeI

widn't reckon on it; but," he added, as his eyes fell upon the boy's disappointed face, "who can tull wât the talking o' zich critters as thic wull be like-fearzome, no doubt."

"And, grandfer," Joe exclaimed, with rising colour, "if lame Tom wez ther wi' hiz crutch now, and jest stepped on tha taw o' wan o

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