upon the continent, of naval humiliation, and of loss of maritime and colonial power, the French government realized that its worst evils and greatest danger sprang from the sea power of England, and, like Napoleon half a century later, it determined upon an invasion. The bulk of the troops were collected in ports just south of Brest, on the Atlantic, and the Brest fleet was ordered to go thither and protect the transports. The great Admiral Hawke was charged to intercept this effort; but having been driven off his station by a violent gale in mid-November, the French ran out.

Hawke,

a commander of the most active and fearless type, returned so speedily that he got upon their track before they could fulfill their mission, and with twentythree ships caught sight of their twentyone drawing in with their own coast, towards nightfall of a wild autumn day, with an increasing gale. Howe's ship, the Magnanime, had been sent forward by Hawke to make the land, and thus was in the lead in the headlong chase which at once ensued, as the British fleet rushed upon a combination of perils that embraced all most justly dreaded by the seaman, darkness, an intricate navigation, a lee shore fringed with outlying and imperfectly known reefs and shoals, towards which they were hurried by a fast-rising wind and sea that forbade all hope of retracing their course during the long hours of the night then closing round them. The master of the flagship, upon whom, in the absence of a pilot, devolved the navigation of the fleet, called Hawke's attention to some evident dangers. The single-minded admiral, intent upon his high charge, saw before him only the flying foe, whom it was his task to insure should not, unsmitten, reach a friendly port. "You have done your duty in warning me," he answered; "now lay us alongside the French commander in chief."

With canvas reefed close down, forty

odd tall ships, pursuers and pursued, in fierce career drove furiously on; now rushing headlong down the forward slope of a great sea, now rising on its foaming crest as it swept beyond them; now seen, now hidden; the helmsmen straining at the wheels, upon which, at such moments, the big hulls, tossing their prows from side to side, tugged like a maddened horse, as though themselves feeling the wild "rapture of the strife" that animated their masters, rejoicing in their strength, and defying the accustomed rein. The French admiral, trusting in his greater local knowledge, sought to round a rocky point, beyond which, he flattered himself, the enemy would not dare to follow. He was soon undeceived. In no ranged order save that of speed, the leading British vessels mingled with the French rear; the roar and flashes of the guns, the falling spars and drifting clouds of smoke, now adding their part to the wild magnificence of the scene, upon which the sun went down just as Hawke and Howe, sailing fearlessly on over ground where their foe had led the way, were drawing up with the hostile van. As the ships, rolling heavily, buried their flanks deep in the following seas, no captain dared open his lower tier of ports, where the most powerful artillery was arrayed, none save one, the French Thésée, whose rashness was rebuked by the inpouring waters that quickly engulfed both ship and crew. Balked of their expected respite, harried and worried by the foe, harnessed to no fixed plan of action, the French now, under cover of night, broke and fled. Seven went north, seven south, to be thenceforth hopelessly disunited fragments. Seven were lost, some sunk, some captured, some hurled upon the beach. Two British ships were also wrecked; but during the awful night that succeeded, the minute guns pealing from stricken ships upon the stormy air proclaimed to Hawke and his fol

lowers, as their own vessels strained at the stout anchors which alone saved them from a like distress, that the invasion of England was become an empty threat.

In this achievement Howe had borne a brilliant part, one third of the British loss falling upon his single ship. He continued to serve, but without further noteworthy incident, up to the peace made in the winter of 1762–63. From that time until the difficulties with the American colonies came to a head in 1775, he was not actively employed afloat, although continuously engaged upon professional matters, especially as a close student of naval tactics and its kindred subjects, to which he always gave systematic attention. During this period, also, he became a member of the House of Commons, and so continued until transferred from the Irish peerage to that of Great Britain, in 1782. In 1770, at the age of forty-five, he became a rear-admiral, in 1775 a vice-admiral, and in February of the following year was appointed commander in chief of the North American station. Together with his military duties, he was, as has before been said, given powers, conjointly with his brother, to treat for the settlement of existing troubles.

Although his habitual reticence restrained his sentiments from finding expression in positive words, there can be little doubt that the necessity of raising his hand against the Americans caused Howe keener regret than it did many of his brother officers. He took instant occasion to address to Franklin a personal note, recalling their former association, and expressing an earnest hope that their friendship might contribute something to insure the success of his official mission. In the five years that had elapsed, however, Franklin had been in the heat of the political struggle, and, philosopher though he was, he had not Howe's natural phlegm. Hence, his reply, while

marked by respect and even formal cordiality toward the admiral himself, displayed a vivacity of resentment and a bitterness for which the latter had scarcely looked. Still, his habitual equanimity was not ruffled, and he read the letter with the simple comment, "My old friend expresses himself very warmly."

Howe's arrival antedated the signature of the Declaration of Independence by less than a week. During the period of attempted negotiation, while scrupulously faithful to his instructions, he showed to his late fellow-countrymen all the courtesy and consideration that the most cordial esteem could extend. The incident of the official communication addressed by the Howes to Washington, in which they sought to evade giving him the title of "General," is sufficiently familiar; but it is more rarely recalled that, in verbal intercourse with American officers, the admiral habitually styled him "General Washington," and sent complimentary messages to him as such. He even spoke of the colonies as "states," and at the same time dwelt with evident emotion upon the testimonials of respect and affection which had been shown to his brother's memory by the colonists.

To narrate Howe's share in the operations by which New York in 1776, and Philadelphia in 1777, fell into the hands of the British, would be only to repeat well-known historical episodes, enlivened by few or no incidents personal to himself. In them the navy played a part at once subordinate and indispensable, as is the office of a foundation to its superstructure. cause of the Americans was hopeless as long as their waters remained in the undisputed control of the enemy's ships; and it was the attempt of Great Britain to cast aside this essential support, and to rely upon the army alone in a wild and intricate country, that led to her first great disaster, - Bur

The

goyne's surrender at Saratoga. Upon this, France at once recognized the independence of the colonies, and their alliance with that kingdom followed. A French fleet of twelve ships of the line left Toulon in the spring of 1778 for the American coast. This force far exceeded Howe's; and it was no thanks to the British government, but only to the admiral's sleepless vigilance and activity, seconded, as such qualities are apt to be, by at least an average degree of supineness on the part of his antagonist, that his scanty squadron was not surprised and overpowered in Delaware Bay, when Sir Henry Clinton evacuated Philadelphia Howe to retreat upon New York. who had the defects of his qualities, whose deliberate and almost stolid.exterior betrayed a phlegmatic composure of spirit which required the spur of imminent emergency to rouse it into vehement action never in his long career appeared to greater advantage, nor achieved military results more truly brilliant, than at this time, and up to the abandonment of the attack on Rhode Island by the Americans under Sullivan, three months later. Then only, if ever, did he rise above the level of an accomplished and resolute general officer, and establish a claim to genius, the latent fire of which, however, had to be elicited by circumstances too extreme, by pressure too obvious, to assure him a place in the front rank of great commanders, whose actions originate in the living impulse of their own creative energy. Steady as a rock, like a rock, also, Howe gave forth sparks only under blows that would have broken weaker men.

D'Estaing was twelve weeks in coming from Toulon to Cape May, but Howe knew nothing of his sailing until three weeks after he had started. Then orders were received to abandon Philadelphia and concentrate upon New York. The naval forces were scattered, and had to be collected; the supplies of

the army, except those needed for the march across Jersey, were to be embarked, and the great train of transports and ships of war moved over a hundred miles down a difficult river, and thence to New York. Despite every effort, a loss of ten days was incurred, through calms, in the mere transit from Philadelphia to the sea; but during this momentous crisis D'Estaing did not appear. Two days more sufficed to York Bay; but yet the grave admiral, roused to the full tension of his great abilities, rested not. With a force little more than half that coming against him, he knew that all depended upon the rapidity with which his squadron took the imposing position he had in mind. Still D'Estaing tarried, giving twelve more precious days to his untiring enemy. The army of Sir Henry Clinton, reaching Navesink the day after the fleet, was snatched by it from the hot pursuit of the disappointed Washington, and carried safely to New York. Then the ships of war were ranged inside Sandy Hook, carefully anchored and disposed to command the entrance with the fullest exertion of their own force, and to offer the least exposure to the enemy's efforts. When D'Estaing at last came, all was ready; the energy that had improved every fleeting moment then gave place to the steadfast resolve which was Howe's greatest attribute, and against which, seconded by his careful preparation, success could be won only by a desperate and sanguinary struggle. The attempt was not made. Ten days after arriving, the French admiral again put to sea, heading to the southward.

bring the fleet into New

"The arrival of the French fleet," wrote Washington a little later, “is a great and striking event; but the operations of it have been injured by a number of unforeseen and unfavorable circumstances, which have lessened the importance of its services to a great

degree. The length of the passage, in the first instance, was a capital misfortune; for, had even one of common length taken place, Lord Howe, with the British ships of war and all the transports in the river Delaware, must inevitably have fallen; and Sir Henry Clinton must have had better luck than is commonly dispensed to men of his profession under such circumstances, if he and his troops had not shared at least the fate of Burgoyne." If this narration of events is so carefully worded as not to imply a censure upon D'Estaing, it none the less, however unintentionally, measures the great military merit of Lord Howe.

Nor did this end his achievements. Two or three days after the French departed, a small reinforcement reached him, and in the course of a week Howe heard that the enemy's fleet had been seen heading for Narragansett Bay, then controlled by a British garrison on Rhode Island. This was in pursuance of a prearranged plan to support Sullivan, who had already begun his advance. Though still much inferior, Howe hurried to the spot, arriving the day after D'Estaing had run the fire of the British works and entered the harbor. With correct strategic judgment, with a flash of insight which did not usually distinguish him when an enemy was not in view, he saw that the true position for his squadron was in face of the hostile fleet, ready to act as circumstances might dictate. His mere presence blocked this operation, also. D'Estaing, either fearing that the British admiral might take the offensive and gain some unexpected advantage, or tempted by the apparent opportunity of crushing a small hostile division, put to sea the next day. Howe, far superior as a seaman to his antagonist, manœuvred so skillfully as to avoid action. A tremendous gale came up, scattered both fleets, and dismasted several of the French.

D'Estaing appeared again

off Rhode Island only to notify Sullivan that he could no longer aid him; and the latter, deprived of an indispensable support, withdrew in confusion. The disappointment of the Americans showed itself by mobbing some French seamen in Boston, whither their fleet retired. "After the enterprise upon Rhode Island had been planned," continues Washington, in the letter above quoted, "and was in the moment of execution, that Lord Howe with the British ships should interpose merely to create a diversion, and draw the French fleet from the island, was again unlucky, as the count had not returned on the 17th to the island, though drawn from it on the 10th; by which the whole was subjected to a miscarriage." What Washington politicly calls bad luck was French bad management, provoked and baffled by Howe's accurate strategy, untiring energy, and consummate seamanship. Clinton's army delivered, the forcing of New York frustrated, Rhode Island and its garrison saved, by a squadron never more than two thirds of that opposed to it, were achievements to illustrate any career; and the more so that they were effected by sheer scientific fencing, like some of Bonaparte's greatest feats, with little loss of blood. They form Howe's highest title to fame, and his only claim as a strategist.

It is indicative of Howe's personal feelings about the colonial quarrel, during the two years in which he thus ably discharged his official duties, that both he and his brother had determined to ask relief from their commands as soon as it appeared that all hopes of conciliation were over. The appointment of other commissioners hastened their decision, and the permission to return was already in the admiral's hands when the news of D'Estaing's coming was received. Fighting a traditional foreign foe was a different thing from shedding the blood of men

between whom and himself there was so much in common; nor was Howe the man to dodge responsibility by turning over an inferior force, threatened by such heavy odds, to a junior officer before the new commander in chief came. His resolution to remain was as happy for his renown as it was creditable to his character; but when, after the brief campaign just sketched, he found that the French fleet had taken refuge in Boston and was in need of extensive repairs, he resigned the command in New York to a rear-admiral, and departed to Newport to meet his successor. Upon the latter's arrival he sailed for England, towards the end of September, 1778. General Howe had preceded him by four months.

The two brothers went home with feelings of great resentment against the ministry. The course of the war had so far been unfortunate. The loss of Boston, the surrender of Burgoyne, the evacuation of Philadelphia, and finally the entrance of France into the contest constituted a combination of mishaps which certainly implied fault somewhere. As usual, no one was willing to accept blame, and hot disputes, with injurious imputations, raged in Parliament. There is, happily, here no necessity for apportioning the responsibility, except in the case of Lord Howe; and as to him, it is reasonably clear that all was done that could be up to the coming of the French, while it is incontestable that afterwards, with a force utterly inadequate, for which the government was answerable, he had, by most masterly management, averted imminent disaster. His words in the House of Commons were bitter. "He had been deceived into his command, and he was deceived while he retained it. Tired and disgusted, he desired permission to resign it; and he would have returned as soon as he obtained leave, but he could not think of doing so while a superior enemy remained in American seas; that, as

soon as that impediment was removed, he gladly embraced the first opportunity of returning to Europe. Such, and the recollection of what he had suffered, were his motives for resigning the command, and such for declining any future service so long as the present ministry remained in office."

In terms like these could officers holding seats in Parliament speak concerning the government of the day. It was a period in which not only did party feeling run high, but corruption was an almost avowed method of political management. The navy itself was split into factions by political bias and personal jealousies, and there was a saying that "if a naval officer were to be roasted, another officer could always be found to turn the spit." The head of the Admiralty, Lord Sandwich, was a man of much ability, but also of profligate character, as well public as private. He doubtless wished the success of his department, under the terrible chances of war no chief can do otherwise, for the responsibility of failure must fall upon his own head; but through corrupt administration the strength of the navy, upon the outbreak of war, was unequal to the work it had to do. Some one must suffer for this remissness, and who more naturally than the commander of a distant station, who confessed himself "no politician"? Hence, Howe certainly thought, the neglect with which he had been treated.

"It would not be pru

dent to trust the little reputation he had earned by forty years' service, his personal honor and everything else he held dear, in the hands of men who have neither the ability to act on their own judgment, nor the integrity and good sense to follow the advice of others who might know more of the matter." A year later, it was roundly charged that the Channel fleet had been brought home at a most critical moment, losing an exceptional opportunity for striking the enemy, in order