of his subordinates even though he show all the unbending severity of Jervis, and despite the numerous hangings, which, for that matter, rarely fell except on the hopelessly bad.  A most significant feature of his rule as a disciplinarian was his peculiar care of health, by instructed sanitary measures, by provision of suitable diet, and by well-ordered hospital service.  This was not merely a prudential consideration for the efficiency of the fleet; he regarded also the welfare of the sufferers.  He made it a rule to inspect the hospitals himself, and he directed a daily visit by a captain and by the surgeons of the ships from which patients were sent, thus keeping the sick in touch with those they knew, and who had in them a personal interest.  An odd provision, amusingly illustrative of the obverse side of the admiral’s character, was that the visiting captain should be accompanied by a boatswain’s mate, the functionary charged with administering floggings, and, “if they find the patients do not conduct themselves properly and orderly, they are to punish them agreeably to the rules of the Navy.”  It was, however, on his care of health, in its various exposures, that the admiral specially valued himself; it was, he said, his proudest boast among the services to which he laid claim.

But while he labored thus for the welfare of the seamen, it was naturally upon the professional tone of his officers that his chief reliance must be placed; and the leaders among them he grappled to his soul with hooks of steel, as they recognized the wisdom and force of his measures, and the appreciation given to them and others.  Whatever beneficent influence might issue from him as a fountain-head must through them be distributed, and by them reinforced and sustained.  “The discipline of the fleet,” he said, “is in the ward-room;” and greatly did he lament the loose insubordinate talk, the spirit of irresponsible criticism that found voice at mess-tables, within the hearing of servants, by whom it was disseminated throughout the body of the ship.  Not only he, but many, attributed to this hot-bed the fomenting of discontent into organized mutiny.  This could not be stopped by direct measures, but only by imposing a feeling of fear, and nurturing that of officer-like propriety, by stringent prescription of forms of respect and rigid exaction of their observance.  To stand uncovered before a superior, instead of lightly touching the hat, to pay outward reverence to the national flag, to salute the quarter-deck as the seat of authority, were no vain show under him.  “Discipline,” he was fond of quoting, “is summed up in the one word, ‘Obedience;’” and these customs were charged with the observance which is obedience in spirit.  They conduced to discipline as conventional good manners, by rendering the due of each to each, knit together the social fabric and maintain the regularity and efficiency of common life; removing friction, suppressing jars, and ministering constantly to the smooth and even working of the social machinery.