and throughout, whether in success or disaster, the name of Howe appears frequently, and always as the subject of praise.  “Howe, brother of the lord of that name, was the third on the naval list.  He was undaunted as a rock, and as silent, the characteristics of his whole race.  He and Wolfe soon contracted a friendship like the union of cannon and gunpowder.”  “Howe,” he says in another place, “never made a friendship except at the mouth of a cannon.”

Of his professional merits, however, professional opinions will be more convincing.  A Frenchman, who had acted as pilot of his ship, the Magnanime, when going into action, was asked if it were possible to take a lighter vessel, the Burford, close to the walls of another fort farther in.  “Yes,” he replied, “but I should prefer to take the Magnanime.”  “But why?” it was rejoined; “for the Burford draws less water.”  “True,” he said, “mais le capitaine Howe est jeune et brave.”  Sir Edward Hawke, the most distinguished admiral of that generation, gave a yet higher commendation to the “young and brave” captain, who at this time served under his orders,—­one that must cause a sigh of regretful desire to many a troubled superior.  Several years later, when First Lord of the Admiralty, he nominated Howe, in October, 1770, to command a squadron destined to the Mediterranean, when hostilities with Spain were expected.  The appointment was criticised on the ground that he was a junior admiral in the fleet, having been very recently promoted; but Hawke, doubtless mindful that the same objection had been made to him at a similar period of his career, answered, in the spirit of St. Vincent defending his choice of Nelson, “I have tried Lord Howe on most important occasions.  He never asked me how he was to execute any service entrusted to his charge, but always went straight forward and did it.”  Some quaint instances are recorded of the taciturnity for which he was also noted.  Amid the recriminations that followed the failure at Rochefort, Howe neither wrote nor said anything.  At last the Admiralty asked why he had not expressed an opinion.  In the somewhat ponderous style that marked his utterances, he replied, “With regard to the operations of the troops I was silent, as not being at that time well enough informed thereof, and to avoid the mention of any particulars that might prove not exactly agreeable to the truth.”  The next year, an army officer of rank, putting questions to him and receiving no answer, said, “Mr. Howe, don’t you hear me?  I have asked you several questions.”  Howe answered curtly, “I don’t like questions,”—­in which he was perhaps not peculiar.