The next day, August 15, Nelson also joined the fleet. On the 25th of July, a week after reaching Gibraltar, he had received the "Curieux's" news. Obeying his constant rule to seek the French, he at once started north with the eleven ships which had accompanied him from the West Indies,—intending to go either to Ferrol, Brest, or Ireland, according to the tidings which might reach him on the way. After communicating with Cornwallis, he continued on to England with his own ship, the "Victory," and one other whose condition required immediate repairs. On the 18th he landed in Portsmouth, after an absence of over two years.

Cornwallis had now under his command a concentrated force of thirty-four or thirty-five sail-of-the-line, all admirably seasoned and disciplined. The allies had in Brest twenty-one, in Ferrol twenty-nine; two great bodies, neither of which, however, was equal in number, nor still less in quality, to his. Adrift somewhere on the sea were the five French ships from Rochefort. For more than five months these vessels, which sailed on the 17th of July, five days after the blockading ships had left to join Calder, ranged the seas without meeting an equal British division,—a circumstance which earned for them from the French the name of "the Invisible Squadron." But, while thus fortunately unseen by the enemy, Napoleon found it equally impossible to bring them within the scope of his combinations; [229] and it may be doubted whether commerce-destroying to the sum of two million dollars compensated for the loss of so important a military factor.

The ships in Cadiz being blocked by Collingwood, and those in Cartagena remaining always inert, the naval situation was now comparatively simple. Cornwallis was superior to either of the enemy's detachments, and he held an interior position. In case Villeneuve approached, it was scarcely possible that the two hostile squadrons, dependent upon the wind, which if fair for one would be foul to the other, could unite before he had effectually crushed one of them. It ought to be equally improbable, with proper lookouts, that Villeneuve could elude the British fleet and gain so far the start of it as to cover the Straits of Dover during the time required by Napoleon. In his concentrated force and his interior position Cornwallis controlled the issue,—barring of course those accidents which cannot be foreseen, and which at times derange the best-laid plans.

Such was the situation when, on August 17, Cornwallis was informed that Villeneuve had put to sea with, it was said, twenty-seven or twenty-eight ships-of-the-line. He at once detached toward Ferrol Sir Robert Calder with eighteen sail, keeping with himself sixteen. This division of his fleet, which is condemned by the simplest and most generally admitted principles of warfare, transferred to Villeneuve all the advantage of central position and superior force, and was stigmatized by Napoleon as a "glaring blunder." "What a chance," he wrote, upon hearing it when all was over, "has Villeneuve missed. He might, by coming upon Brest from a wide sweep to sea, have played hide and seek with Calder and fallen upon Cornwallis; or else, with his thirty ships have beaten Calder's twenty and gained a decided preponderance." [230] This censure of both admirals was just.

While the British squadrons were concentrating in the Bay of Biscay, and the happy insight and diligence of Nelson were bringing the Mediterranean ships to the critical centre of action, Napoleon, from the heights overlooking Boulogne, was eagerly awaiting news from Villeneuve, and at the same time anxiously watching the signs of the times on the Continent, where the sky was already dark with a gathering storm. The encroachments which led to the second war with Great Britain, in 1803, had excited no less distrust among the continental powers, who were indeed more immediately and disastrously affected by them; but none had then dared to move. The violation of German neutrality in 1804, by the seizure of the Duc d'Enghien on the soil of Baden, had caused a general indignation; which, on the part of Russia and Austria, was quickened into a desire to act by his execution, regarded by most as a judicial murder. Prussia shared the anger and fears of the other powers, but not enough to decide her vacillating government.

In this state of things the fall of the Addington ministry, and the consequent vigor imparted to the foreign policy of Great Britain by Pitt's second accession to power, led naturally to another coalition; the centre of which, as ever, was found in London. The czar having remonstrated vigorously, both with Napoleon and the German Diet, upon the seizure of the Duc d'Enghien, a bitter correspondence had followed, causing the rupture of diplomatic relations between France and Russia in August, 1804. For similar reasons, and at the same time, the French embassy to Sweden was recalled. Austria still temporized, though her actions excited Napoleon's suspicions.

Early in 1805 the czar sent special envoys to London, to treat concerning certain vast schemes for the reorganization of Europe in the interests of general peace. The particular object was not reached; but on the 11th of April a treaty between Great Britain and Russia was signed, the two agreeing to promote a league among the powers to stop further encroachments by Napoleon. Six weeks later the emperor was crowned King of Italy, and in June Genoa was annexed to France. This last act, contemplated by Napoleon for many years, [231] determined Austria's accession to the treaty. By her signature, given August 9, [232] the third coalition was formed. Sweden became a party to it at the same time, and Great Britain undertook to pay subsidies to all the members.

The preparations of Austria, ever deliberate, could not escape Napoleon's watchful eye. "All my news from Italy is warlike," he writes, "and indeed Austria no longer observes any concealment." [233] Yet, trusting to his enemy's slowness and his own readiness, he did not lose hope. The position was precisely analogous to those military situations in which he had so often snatched success from overwhelming numbers, by rapidly throwing himself on one enemy before the other could join. He might even yet deal his long cherished blow to Great Britain, under which, if successful, Austria also would at once succumb. On August 13, two days after learning of Villeneuve's entry into Coruña, he instructs Talleyrand to notify the emperor that the troops assembled in the Tyrol must be withdrawn to Bohemia, leaving him free to carry on his war with England undisturbed, or by November he will be in Vienna. [234] Urgent messages are the same day sent to Villeneuve to hasten and fulfil his mission, for time was pressing; threatened by Austria and Great Britain, a blow must speedily be struck. He is no longer ordered to refrain from fighting. On the contrary, if superior to the British, counting two Spanish ships equal to one French, he is to attack at all hazards. [235] "If with thirty ships my admirals fear to attack twenty-four British, we may as well give up all hope of a navy." [236]

On the 23d of August the emperor announces to Talleyrand his final and momentous decision: "My squadron sailed August 14 from Ferrol with thirty-four ships; [237] it had no enemy in sight. If it follows my instructions, joins the Brest squadron and enters the Channel, there is still time; I am master of England. If, on the contrary, my admirals hesitate, manœuvre badly, and do not fulfil their purpose, I have no other resource than to wait for winter to cross with the flotilla. That operation is risky; it would be more so if, pressed by time, political events should oblige me to postpone it to the month of April. Such being the case, I hasten to meet the most pressing danger: I raise my camp here, and by September 23 I shall have in Germany two hundred thousand men, and twenty-five thousand in Naples. I march upon Vienna, and do not lay down my arms until I have Naples and Venice, and have no more to fear from Austria. Austria will certainly thus be quieted during the winter." These words were a prophecy. The same day numerous orders, strictly preparatory as yet, were issued to the troops in Hanover, Holland, and Italy, and other provision made for the contemplated change of purpose. At the same time, still clinging to every hope of arresting Austria, and so being left free for the invasion of England, he sent Duroc to Berlin to offer Hanover to Prussia, upon condition that the latter should move troops toward Bohemia or at least make a clear declaration to Austria.

The issue was already decided. On the 13th of August, after three fruitless attempts, Villeneuve got to sea with his twenty-nine ships-of-the-line. The frigate "Didon" was sent to seek the Rochefort squadron and direct it also upon Brest. Yet the unfortunate admiral was even then hesitating whether he should go there with his vastly greater force, and the orders were likely seriously to endanger the smaller division. As he sailed, he penned these significant words to the Minister of Marine: "The enemy's forces, more concentrated than ever, leave me little other resource than to go to Cadiz." [238]

Shortly after he cleared the harbor the wind shifted to north-east, foul for his purpose. The fleet stood to the north-west; but the ships were badly handled and several received damage. On the morning of the 15th they were two hundred and fifty miles west-north-west from Cape Finisterre; the wind blowing a moderate gale, still from the north-east. Three ships of war were in sight,—two British, the third the frigate that had been sent to seek the Rochefort squadron, but which had been captured. A Danish merchantman reported that they were lookouts from a hostile body of twenty-five ships. The story had no foundation, for Cornwallis had not yet divided his fleet; but Villeneuve pictured to himself his inefficient command meeting a force with which it was wholly unable to cope. Losing sight of the great whole of which his own enterprise was but a part, though one of vital importance, his resolution finally broke down. That evening he ordered the fleet to bear up for Cadiz. On the 20th [239] it was sighted from the three ships commanded by Collingwood, who with a small division of varying strength had watched the port since the previous May. With steady judgment, that admiral in retiring kept just out of gunshot, determined, as he said, not to be driven into the Mediterranean without dragging the enemy too through the Straits. Villeneuve had little heart to pursue. That afternoon he anchored in Cadiz, where were then assembled thirty-five French and Spanish ships-of-the-line. Collingwood at once resumed his station outside. That night one ship-of-the-line joined him, and on the 22d Sir Richard Bickerton arrived with four from the Mediterranean. On the 30th Calder appeared, bringing with him the eighteen detached by Cornwallis. In compliance with his orders he had been before Ferrol, found the port empty, and, learning that Villeneuve had sailed for Cadiz, had hastened to re-enforce the blockade. With twenty-six ships-of-the-line Collingwood held the enemy securely checked, and remained in chief command until the 28th of September, when Nelson arrived from England.

Thus ended, and forever, Napoleon's profoundly conceived and laboriously prepared scheme for the invasion of England. If it be sought to fix a definite moment which marked the final failure of so vast a plan, that one may well be chosen when Villeneuve made signal to bear up for Cadiz. When, precisely, Napoleon learned the truth, does not appear. Decrès, the Minister of Marine, had however prepared him in some measure for Villeneuve's action; and, after a momentary outburst of rage against the unfortunate admiral, he at once issued in rapid succession the directions, by which, to use his own graphic expression, his legions were made to "pirouette," and the march toward the Rhine and Upper Danube was begun. "My decision is taken," he writes to Talleyrand, August 25; "my movement is begun. Three weeks hence I shall be in Germany with two hundred thousand men." During that and the two following days order after order issued from his headquarters; and on the 28th he wrote to Duroc that the army was in full movement. To conceal his change of purpose and to gain all-important time, by lulling the suspicions of Austria, he himself remained at Boulogne, with his eyes seemingly fixed seaward, until the 3d of September, when he went to Paris. On the 24th he left the capital for the army, on the 26th he was at Strasbourg, and on the 7th of October the French army, numbering near two hundred thousand, struck the Danube below Ulm; cutting off some eighty thousand Austrians there assembled under General Mack. On the 20th, the day before Trafalgar, Ulm capitulated; thirty thousand men laying down their arms. Thirty thousand more had been taken in the actions preceding this event. [240] On the 13th of November French troops entered Vienna, and on the 2d of December the battle of Austerlitz was won over the combined Russians and Austrians. On the 26th the emperor of Germany signed the Peace of Presburg. By it he relinquished Venice with all other possessions in Italy, and ceded the Tyrol to Bavaria, the ally of France.

Austria was thus quieted for three years, but the expedition against Great Britain was never resumed. In the course of the following year difficulties arose between Prussia and France, which led to war and the overthrow of the North German kingdom at Auerstadt and Jena. Yet another campaign was needed to bring Russia to peace in 1807. Meanwhile the Boulogne flotilla was rotting on the beach. In October, 1807, Decrès, by Napoleon's orders, made an inspection of the boats and the four ports. Of the twelve hundred of the former, specially built for the invasion, not over three hundred were fit to put to sea; of the nine hundred transports nearly all were past service. The circular port at Boulogne was covered two feet deep with sand; those of Vimereux and Ambleteuse, three feet. A very few years more would suffice to bury them. [241] In 1814 an English lady, visiting Boulogne after Napoleon's first abdication, noted in her journal that the mud walls of the encampment were still to be seen on the heights behind the town,—the crumbling record of a great failure.

The question will naturally here arise, What at any time were the chances of success? To a purely speculative question, involving so many elements and into which the conditions of sea war then introduced so many varying quantities, it would be folly to reply with a positive assertion. Certain determining factors may, however, be profitably noted. It is, for instance, evident that, if Villeneuve on leaving the West Indies had had with him the Ferrol squadron, and still more if he had been joined by Ganteaume, he could have steered at once for the Channel; and, by attending to well-known weather conditions, could have entered it with a favoring wind sure to last him to Boulogne. The difficulty of effecting such a combination in the West Indies, which was Napoleon's favorite project, was owing to the presence of British divisions before the hostile ports; and step by step this circumstance drove the emperor back on what he pronounced the worst alternative,—a concentration in front of Brest. As has been noticed, at the critical moment when this final concentration was to be attempted, the British, by a series of movements which resulted naturally from their strategic policy, were before that port in force superior to either of the French detachments seeking there to make their junction. Cornwallis's blunder in dividing that force cannot obscure the military lesson involved.

Nor can Calder's error, in suffering Villeneuve to escape him in July, detract from the equally significant and precisely similar lesson then illustrated. There also the British fleet was on hand to check an important junction—at a point so far from Ferrol as to be out of supporting distance by the division in the port—by virtue of an intelligent use of interior positions and interior lines.

To the strategic advantage conferred by these interior positions, for clinging to which credit is due above all to St. Vincent, is to be added the very superior character of the British personnel,—particularly of the officers; for the immense demand for seamen made it hard to maintain the quality of the crews. Continually cruising, not singly but in squadrons more or less numerous, the ships were ever on the drill ground,—nay, on the battle-field,—experiencing all the varying phases impressed upon it by the changes of the ocean. Thus practised and hardened into perfect machines, though inferior in numbers, they were continually superior in force and in mobility to their opponents.

Possessing, therefore, strategic advantage and superior force, the probabilities favored Great Britain. Nevertheless, there remained to Napoleon enough chances of success to forbid saying that his enterprise was hopeless. A seaman can scarcely deny that, despite the genius of Nelson and the tenacity of the British officers, it was possible that some favorable concurrence of circumstances might have brought forty or more French ships into the Channel, and given Napoleon the mastery of the Straits for the few days he asked. The very removal of the squadrons of observation from before Rochefort and Ferrol, in order to constitute the fleet with which Calder fought Villeneuve, though admirable as a display of generalship, shows that the British navy, so far as numbers were concerned, was not adequate to perfect security, and might, by some conceivable combination of circumstances, have been outwitted and overwhelmed at the decisive point.

The importance attached by the emperor to his project was not exaggerated. He might, or he might not, succeed; but, if he failed against Great Britain, he failed everywhere. This he, with the intuition of genius, felt; and to this the record of his after history now bears witness. To the strife of arms with the great Sea Power succeeded the strife of endurance. Amid all the pomp and circumstance of the war which for ten years to come desolated the Continent, amid all the tramping to and fro over Europe of the French armies and their auxiliary legions, there went on unceasingly that noiseless pressure upon the vitals of France, that compulsion, whose silence, when once noted, becomes to the observer the most striking and awful mark of the working of Sea Power. Under it the resources of the Continent wasted more and more with each succeeding year; and Napoleon, amid all the splendor of his imperial position, was ever needy. To this, and to the immense expenditures required to enforce the Continental System, are to be attributed most of those arbitrary acts which made him the hated of the peoples, for whose enfranchisement he did so much. Lack of revenue and lack of credit, such was the price paid by Napoleon for the Continental System, through which alone, after Trafalgar, he hoped to crush the Power of the Sea. It may be doubted whether, amid all his glory, he ever felt secure after the failure of the invasion of England. To borrow his own vigorous words, in the address to the nation issued before he joined the army, "To live without commerce, without shipping, without colonies, subjected to the unjust will of our enemies, is to live as Frenchmen should not." Yet so had France to live throughout his reign, by the will of the one enemy never conquered.

On the 14th of September, before quitting Paris, Napoleon sent Villeneuve orders to take the first favorable opportunity to leave Cadiz, to enter the Mediterranean, join the ships at Cartagena, and with this combined force move upon southern Italy. There, at any suitable point, he was to land the troops embarked in the fleet to re-enforce General St. Cyr, who already had instructions to be ready to attack Naples at a moment's notice. [242] The next day these orders were reiterated to Decrès, enforcing the importance to the general campaign of so powerful a diversion as the presence of this great fleet in the Mediterranean; but, as "Villeneuve's excessive pusillanimity will prevent him from undertaking this, you will send to replace him Admiral Rosily, who will bear letters directing Villeneuve to return to France and give an account of his conduct." [243] The emperor had already formulated his complaints against the admiral under seven distinct heads. [244] On the 15th of September, the same day the orders to relieve Villeneuve were issued, Nelson, having spent at home only twenty-five days, left England for the last time. On the 28th, when he joined the fleet off Cadiz, he found under his command twenty-nine ships-of-the-line, which successive arrivals raised to thirty-three by the day of the battle; but, water running short, it became necessary to send the ships, by divisions of six, to fill up at Gibraltar. To this cause was due that only twenty-seven British vessels were present in the action,—an unfortunate circumstance; for, as Nelson said, what the country wanted was not merely a splendid victory, but annihilation; "numbers only can annihilate." [245] The force under his command was thus disposed: the main body about fifty miles west-south-west of Cadiz, seven lookout frigates close in with the port, and between these extremes, two small detachments of ships-of-the-line,—the one twenty miles from the harbor, the other about thirty-five. "By this chain," he wrote, "I hope to have constant communication with the frigates."

Napoleon's commands to enter the Mediterranean reached Villeneuve on September 27. The following day, when Nelson was joining his fleet, the admiral acknowledged their receipt, and submissively reported his intention to obey as soon as the wind served. Before he could do so, accurate intelligence was received of the strength of Nelson's force, which the emperor had not known. Villeneuve assembled a council of war to consider the situation, and the general opinion was adverse to sailing; but the commander-in-chief, alleging the orders of Napoleon, announced his determination to follow them. To this all submitted. An event, then unforeseen by Villeneuve, precipitated his action.

Admiral Rosily's approach was known in Cadiz some time before he could arrive. It at first made little impression upon Villeneuve, who was not expecting to be superseded. On the 11th of October, however, along with the news that his successor had reached Madrid, there came to him a rumor of the truth. His honor took alarm. If not allowed to remain afloat, how remove the undeserved imputation of cowardice which he knew had by some been attached to his name. He at once wrote to Decrès that he would have been well content if permitted to continue with the fleet in a subordinate capacity; and closed with the words, "I will sail to-morrow, if circumstances favor."

The wind next day was fair, and the combined fleets began to weigh. On the 19th eight ships got clear of the harbor, and by ten A. M. Nelson, far at sea, knew by signal that the long-expected movement had begun. He at once made sail toward the Straits of Gibraltar to bar the entrance of the Mediterranean to the allies. On the 20th, all the latter, thirty-three ships-of-the-line accompanied by five frigates and two brigs, were at sea, steering with a south-west wind to the northward and westward to gain the offing needed before heading direct for the Straits. That morning Nelson, for whom the wind had been fair, was lying to off Cape Spartel to intercept the enemy; and learning from his frigates that they were north of him, he stood in that direction to meet them.

During the day the wind shifted to west, still fair for the British and allowing the allies, by going about, to head south. It was still very weak, so that the progress of the fleets was slow. During the night both manœuvred; the allies to gain, the British to retain, the position they wished. At daybreak of the 21st they were in presence, the French and Spaniards steering south in five columns; of which the two to windward, containing together twelve ships, constituted a detached squadron of observation under Admiral Gravina. The remaining twenty-one formed the main body, commanded by Villeneuve. Cape Trafalgar, from which the battle took its name, was on the south-eastern horizon, ten or twelve miles from the allies; and the British fleet was at the same distance from them to the westward.

Soon after daylight Villeneuve signalled to form line of battle on the starboard tack, on which they were then sailing, heading south. In performing this evolution Gravina with his twelve ships took post in the van of the allied fleet, his own flag-ship heading the column. It is disputed between the French and Spaniards whether this step was taken by Villeneuve's order, or of Gravina's own motion. In either case, these twelve, by abandoning their central and windward position, sacrificed to a great extent their power to re-enforce any threatened part of the order, and also unduly extended a line already too long. In the end, instead of being a reserve well in hand, they became the helpless victims of the British concentration.

At 8 A. M. Villeneuve saw that battle could not be shunned. Wishing to have Cadiz under his lee in case of disaster, he ordered the combined fleet to wear together. The signal was clumsily executed; but by ten all had gone round and were heading north in inverse order, Gravina's squadron in the rear. At eleven Villeneuve directed this squadron to keep well to windward, so as to be in position to succor the centre, upon which the enemy seemed about to make his chief attack; a judicious order, but rendered fruitless by the purpose of the British to concentrate on the rear itself. When this signal was made, Cadiz was twenty miles distant in the north-north-east, and the course of the allies was carrying them toward it.

Owing to the lightness of the wind Nelson would lose no time in manœuvring. He formed his fleet rapidly in two divisions, each in single column, the simplest and most flexible order of attack, and the one whose regularity is most easily preserved. The simple column, however, unflanked, sacrifices during the critical period of closing the support given by the rear ships to the leader, and draws upon the latter the concentrated fire of the enemy's line. Its use by Nelson on this occasion has been much criticised. It is therefore to be remarked that, although his orders, issued several days previous to the battle, are somewhat ambiguous on this point, their natural meaning seems to indicate the intention, if attacking from to windward, to draw up with his fleet in two columns parallel to the enemy and abreast his rear. Then the column nearest the enemy, the lee, keeping away together, would advance in line against the twelve rear ships; while the weather column, moving forward, would hold in check the remainder of the hostile fleet. In either event, whether attacking in column or in line, the essential feature of his plan was to overpower twelve of the enemy by sixteen British, while the remainder of his force covered this operation. The destruction of the rear was entrusted to the second in command; he himself with a smaller body took charge of the more uncertain duties of the containing force. "The second in command," wrote he in his memorable order, "will, after my instructions are made known to him, have the entire direction of his line."

The justification of Nelson's dispositions for battle at Trafalgar rests therefore primarily upon the sluggish breeze, which would so have delayed formations as to risk the loss of the opportunity. It must also be observed that, although a column of ships does not possess the sustained momentum of a column of men, whose depth and mass combine to drive it through the relatively thin resistance of a line, and so cut the latter in twain, the results nevertheless are closely analogous. The leaders in either case are sacrificed,—success is won over their prostrate forms; but the continued impact upon one part of the enemy's order is essentially a concentration, the issue of which, if long enough maintained, cannot be doubtful. Penetration, severance, and the enveloping of one of the parted fragments, must be the result. So, exactly, it was at Trafalgar. It must also be noted that the rear ships of either column, until they reached the hostile line, swept with their broadsides the sea over which enemy's ships from either flank might try to come to the support of the attacked centre. No such attempt was in fact made from either extremity of the combined fleet.

The two British columns were nearly a mile apart and advanced on parallel courses,—heading nearly east, but a little to the northward to allow for the gradual advance in that direction of the hostile fleet. The northern or left-hand column, commonly called the "weather line" because the wind came rather from that side, contained twelve ships, and was led by Nelson himself in the "Victory," a ship of one hundred guns. The "Royal Sovereign," of the same size and carrying Collingwood's flag, headed the right column, of fifteen ships.

To the British advance the allies opposed the traditional order of battle, a long single line, closehauled,—in this case heading north, with the wind from west-north-west. The distance from one flank to the other was nearly five miles. Owing partly to the lightness of the breeze, partly to the great number of ships, and partly to the inefficiency of many of the units of the fleet, the line was very imperfectly formed. Ships were not in their places, intervals were of irregular width, here vessels were not closed up, there two overlapped, one masking the other's fire. The general result was that, instead of a line, the allied order showed a curve of gradual sweep, convex toward the east. To the British approach from the west, therefore, it presented a disposition resembling a re-entrant angle; and Collingwood, noting with observant eye the advantage of this arrangement for a cross-fire, commented favorably upon it in his report of the battle. It was, however, the result of chance, not of intention,—due, not to the talent of the chief, but to the want of skill in his subordinates.

The commander-in-chief of the allies, Villeneuve, was in the "Bucentaure," an eighty-gun ship, the twelfth in order from the van of the line. Immediately ahead of him was the huge Spanish four-decker, the "Santisima Trinidad," a Goliath among ships, which had now come forth to her last battle. Sixth behind the "Bucentaure," and therefore eighteenth in the order, came a Spanish three-decker, the "Santa Ana," flying the flag of Vice-Admiral Alava. These two admirals marked the right and left of the allied centre, and upon them, therefore, the British leaders respectively directed their course,—Nelson upon the "Bucentaure," Collingwood upon the "Santa Ana."

The "Royal Sovereign" had recently been refitted, and with clean new copper easily outsailed her more worn followers. Thus it happened that, as Collingwood came within range, his ship, outstripping the others by three quarters of a mile, entered alone, and for twenty minutes endured, unsupported, the fire of all the hostile ships that could reach her. A proud deed, surely, but surely also not a deed to be commended as a pattern. The first shot of the battle was fired at her by the "Fougueux," the next astern of the "Santa Ana." This was just at noon, and with the opening guns the ships of both fleets hoisted their ensigns; the Spaniards also hanging large wooden crosses from their spanker booms.

The "Royal Sovereign" advanced in silence until, ten minutes later, she passed close under the stern of the "Santa Ana." Then she fired a double-shotted broadside which struck down four hundred of the enemy's crew, and, luffing rapidly, took her position close alongside, the muzzles of the hostile guns nearly touching. Here the "Royal Sovereign" underwent the fire not only of her chief antagonist, but of four other ships; three of which belonged to the division of five that ought closely to have knit the "Santa Ana" to the "Bucentaure," and so fixed an impassable barrier to the enemy seeking to pierce the centre. The fact shows strikingly the looseness of the allied order, these three being all in rear and to leeward of their proper stations.

For fifteen minutes the "Royal Sovereign" was the only British ship in close action. Then her next astern entered the battle, followed successively by the rest of the column. In rear of the "Santa Ana" were fifteen ships. Among these, Collingwood's vessels penetrated in various directions; chiefly, however, at first near the spot where his flag had led the way, enveloping and destroying in detail the enemy's centre and leading rear ships, and then passing on to subdue the rest. Much doubtless was determined by chance in such confusion and obscurity; but the original tactical plan insured an overwhelming concentration upon a limited portion of the enemy's order. This being subdued with the less loss, because so outnumbered, the intelligence and skill of the various British captains readily compassed the destruction of the dwindling remnant. Of the sixteen ships, including the "Santa Ana," which composed the allied rear, twelve were taken or destroyed.

Not till one o'clock, or nearly half an hour after the vessels next following Collingwood came into action, did the "Victory" reach the "Bucentaure." The latter was raked with the same dire results that befell the "Santa Ana;" but a ship close to leeward blocked the way, and Nelson was not able to grapple with the enemy's commander-in-chief. The "Victory," prevented from going through the line, fell on board the "Redoutable," a French seventy-four, between which and herself a furious action followed,—the two lying in close contact. At half-past one Nelson fell mortally wounded, the battle still raging fiercely.

The ship immediately following Nelson's came also into collision with the "Redoutable," which thus found herself in combat with two antagonists. The next three of the British weather column each in succession raked the "Bucentaure," complying thus with Nelson's order that every effort must be made to capture the enemy's commander-in-chief. Passing on, these three concentrated their efforts, first, upon the "Bucentaure," and next upon the "Santisima Trinidad." Thus it happened that upon the allied commander-in-chief, upon his next ahead, and upon the ship which, though not his natural supporter astern, had sought and filled that honorable post,—upon the key, in short, of the allied order,—were combined under the most advantageous conditions the fires of five hostile vessels, three of them first-rates. Consequently, not only were the three added to the prizes, but also a great breach was made between the van and rear of the combined fleets. This breach became yet wider by the singular conduct of Villeneuve's proper next astern. Soon after the "Victory" came into action, that ship bore up out of the line, wore round, and stood toward the rear, followed by three others. This movement is attributed to a wish to succor the rear. If so, it was at best an indiscreet and ill-timed act, which finds little palliation in the fact that not one of these ships was taken.

Thus, two hours after the battle began, the allied fleet was cut in two, the rear enveloped and in process of being destroyed in detail, the "Bucentaure," "Santisima Trinidad," and "Redoutable" practically reduced, though not yet surrendered. Ahead of the "Santisima Trinidad" were ten ships, which as yet had not been engaged. The inaction of the van, though partly accounted for by the slackness of the wind, has given just cause for censure. To it, at ten minutes before two, Villeneuve made signal to get into action and to wear together. This was accomplished with difficulty, owing to the heavy swell and want of wind. At three, however, all the ships were about, but by an extraordinary fatality they did not keep together. Five with Admiral Dumanoir stood along to windward of the battle, three passed to leeward of it, and two, keeping away, left the field entirely. Of the whole number, three were intercepted, raising the loss of the allies to eighteen ships-of-the-line taken, one of which caught fire and was burned. The approach of Admiral Dumanoir, if made an hour earlier, might have conduced to save Villeneuve; it was now too late. Exchanging a few distant broadsides with enemy's ships, he stood off to the south-west with four vessels; one of those at first with him having been cut off.

At quarter before five Admiral Gravina, whose ship had been the rear of the order during the battle and had lost heavily, retreated toward Cadiz, making signal to the vessels which had not struck to form around his flag. Five other Spanish ships and five French followed him. As he was withdrawing, the last two to resist of the allied fleet struck their colors.

During the night of the 21st these eleven ships anchored at the mouth of Cadiz harbor, which they could not then enter, on account of a land wind from south-east. At the same time the British and their prizes were being carried shoreward by the heavy swell which had prevailed during the battle; the light air blowing from the sea not enabling them to haul off. The situation was one of imminent peril. At midnight the wind freshened much, but fortunately hauled to the southward, whence it blew a gale all the 22d. The ships got their heads to the westward and drew off shore, with thirteen of the prizes; the other four having had to anchor off Cape Trafalgar. That morning the "Bucentaure," Villeneuve's late flag-ship, was wrecked on some rocks off the entrance to Cadiz; and toward evening the "Redoutable," that had so nobly supported her, was found to be sinking astern of the British ship that had her in tow. During the night of the 22d she went down, with a hundred and fifty of her people still on board. On the 24th the same fate befell the great "Santisima Trinidad," which had been the French admiral's next ahead. Thus his own ship and his two supports vanished from the seas.

For several days the wind continued violent from north-west and south-west. On the 23d five of the ships that had escaped with Gravina put out, to cut off some of the prizes that were near the coast. They succeeded in taking two; but as these were battered to pieces, while three of the five rescuers were carried on the beach and wrecked with great loss of life, little advantage resulted from this well-meant and gallant sortie. Two other prizes were given up to their own crews by the British prize-masters, because the latter were not able with their scanty force to save them. These got into Cadiz. Of the remaining British prizes, all but four either went ashore or were destroyed by the orders of Collingwood, who despaired of saving them. No British ship was lost.

Of thirty-three combined French and Spanish ships which sailed out of Cadiz on the 20th of October, eleven, five French and six Spanish, mostly now disabled hulks, lay there at anchor on the last day of the month. The four that escaped to sea under Dumanoir fell in with a British squadron of the same size near Cape Ortegal, on the 4th of November, and were all taken. This raised the allied loss to twenty-two,—two more than the twenty for which Nelson, in his dying hour, declared that he had bargained.

No attempt to move from Cadiz was again made by the shattered relics of the fight. On the 25th of October Rosily arrived and took up his now blasted command. Nearly three years later, when the Spanish monarchy, so long the submissive tool of the Directory and of Napoleon, had been overthrown by the latter, and the Spanish people had risen against the usurper, the five French ships were still in the port. Surprised between the British blockade and the now hostile batteries of the coast, Rosily, after an engagement of two days with the latter, surrendered his squadron, with the four thousand seamen then on board. This event occurred on the 14th of June, 1808. It was the last echo of Trafalgar.

Such, in its leading outlines and direct consequences, was the famous battle of Trafalgar. Its lasting significance and far-reaching results have been well stated by a recent historian, more keenly alive than most of his fellows to the paramount, though silent, influence of Sea Power upon the course of events: "Trafalgar was not only the greatest naval victory, it was the greatest and most momentous victory won either by land or by sea during the whole of the Revolutionary War. No victory, and no series of victories, of Napoleon produced the same effect upon Europe.... A generation passed after Trafalgar before France again seriously threatened England at sea. The prospect of crushing the British navy, so long as England had the means to equip a navy, vanished. Napoleon henceforth set his hopes on exhausting England's resources, by compelling every state on the Continent to exclude her commerce. Trafalgar forced him to impose his yoke upon all Europe, or to abandon the hope of conquering Great Britain.... Nelson's last triumph left England in such a position that no means remained to injure her but those which must result in the ultimate deliverance of the Continent." [246]

These words may be accepted with very slight modification. Napoleon's scheme for the invasion of Great Britain, thwarted once and again by the strategic difficulties attendant upon its execution, was finally frustrated when Villeneuve gave up the attempt to reach Brest and headed for Cadiz. On the part of the allies Trafalgar was, in itself, a useless holocaust, precipitated in the end by the despair of the unfortunate admiral, upon whose irresolution Napoleon not unjustly visited the anger caused by the wreck of his plans. Villeneuve was perfectly clear-sighted and right in his appreciation of the deficiencies of his command,—of the many chances against success. Where he wretchedly failed was in not recognizing the simple duty of obedience,—the obligation to persist at all hazards in the part of a great scheme assigned to him, even though it led to the destruction of his whole force. Had he, upon leaving Ferrol, been visited by a little of the desperation which brought him to Trafalgar, the invasion of England might possibly—not probably—have been effected.

An event so striking as the battle of Trafalgar becomes, however, to mankind the symbol of all the circumstances—more important, perhaps, but less obvious—which culminate in it. In this sense it may be said that Trafalgar was the cause—as it certainly marked the period—of Napoleon's resolution to crush Great Britain by excluding her commerce from the Continent. Here, therefore, the story of the influence of Sea Power upon this great conflict ceases to follow the strictly naval events, and becomes concerned simply with commerce-destroying, ordinarily a secondary operation of maritime war, but exalted in the later years of Napoleon's reign to be the principal, if not the sole, means of action.

To this the two next chapters are devoted. Of these, the first deals with commerce-destroying in the ordinary sense of the words, directed against enemies' property on the high seas; beginning with the outbreak of war in 1793, and narrating the series of measures by which the republic sought to break down British commerce and foreshadowed the policy of Napoleon's Berlin and Milan decrees. The second begins with the Berlin decree, in 1806; and, tracing one by one the steps which carried the emperor from violence to violence, seeks to show how these found their necessary outcome in the Russian expedition and the fall of the Empire. Detached thus, as far as may be, from the maze of contemporary history in which they are commonly lost, these successive acts of the French government are seen to form a logical sequence, connected by one motive and dominated by one necessity. The motive is the destruction of Great Britain, the necessity that of self-preservation. Each nation, unassailable on its own element, stood like an impregnable fortress that can be brought to surrender only by the exhaustion of its resources. In this struggle of endurance Napoleon fell.