of war on a grand scale, would not have committed himself to the command of so small a body, without cavalry, without means of transport on land, without supplies, with but an insignificant artillery and that not furnished with horses, and, as was avowed, without hope of subsequent reinforcement or of open communications with its base—­that he would not have staked his reputation on the fate of a body so conditioned, if he had been permitted by the naval conditions of the case to lead a larger, more effectually organised, and better supplied army.  The commentary supplied by Captain Desbriere to the volume under notice discloses his opinion that the failure of the expedition to Ireland was due to the inefficiency of the French Navy.  He endeavours to be scrupulously fair to his naval fellow-countrymen; but his conviction is apparent.  It hardly admits of doubt that this view has generally been, and still is, prevalent in the French Army.  Foreign soldiers of talent and experience generalise from this as follows:  Let them but have the direction of the naval as well as of the military part of an expedition, and the invasion of England must be successful.  The complete direction which they would like is exactly what Hoche did have.  He chose the commander of the fleet, and also chose or regulated the choice of the junior flag officers and several of the captains.  Admiral Morard de Galles was not, and did not consider himself, equal to the task for which Hoche’s favour had selected him.  His letter pointing out his own disqualifications has a striking resemblance to the one written by Medina Sidonia in deprecation of his appointment in place of Santa Cruz.  Nevertheless, the French naval officers did succeed in conveying the greater part of the expeditionary army to a point at which disembarkation was practicable.

Now we have some lessons to learn from this.  The advantages conferred by command of the sea must be utilised intelligently; and it was bad management which permitted an important anchorage to remain for more than a fortnight in the hands of an invading force.  We need not impute to our neighbours a burning desire to invade us; but it is a becoming exercise of ordinary strategic precaution to contemplate preparations for repelling what, as a mere military problem, they consider still feasible.  No amount of naval superiority will ever ensure every part of our coast against incursions like that of Tate and his gaol-birds.  Naval superiority, however, will put in our hands the power of preventing the arrival of an army strong enough to carry out a real invasion.  The strength of such an army will largely depend upon the amount of mobile land force of which we can dispose.  Consequently, defence against invasion, even of an island, is the duty of a land army as well as of a fleet.  The more important part may, in our case, be that of the latter; but the services of the former cannot be dispensed with.  The best method of utilising those services calls for much thought.  In 1798, when the ‘First Army of England’ menaced us from the southern coast of the Channel, it was reported to our Government that an examination of the plans formerly adopted for frustrating intended invasions showed the advantage of troubling the enemy in his own home and not waiting till he had come to injure us in ours.