The Fall of Toulon

by Bernard Ireland

  The Board of Admiralty had the task of interfacing the purely political input of national policy requirements with the output of how to achieve those requirements in naval terms. It was, and remains therefore, a partly political and partly naval body.

  Britain, being a constitutional monarchy of the style that so many French citizens still desired, had in George III a king who was entitled (and not afraid) to exercise his remaining powers to intervene in the planning and conduct of his nation’s wars. Such action could, however, be taken only through the prime minister who acted, as appropriate, in the role of adviser, filter or brake. George’s position was weakened increasingly by the illness which, gradually intensifying, dogged him almost throughout his long reign. Lengthening spells of mental instability on the part of the monarch obliged Pitt in 1788 to frame a bill naming the ineffectual and unpopular Prince of Wales as regent, acting as head of state during the periods when his father was incapable of functioning normally.

  The prime minister was, therefore, the main arbiter of policy, directing the Admiralty through the Cabinet, but carrying the Cabinet primarily on resolutions formulated by himself and just three of its members, namely Henry Dundas, otherwise 1st Viscount Melville, the home secretary, together with William, Lord Grenville the foreign secretary, and the Earl of Chatham who, as First Lord of the Admiralty, was the navy’s political head and the channel through which the Board of Admiralty received its general directives.

  Chatham was a civilian but was typical of what were described as ‘political admirals’ or ‘admiral politicians’ who were, in varying proportion, one or the other. Some rarely, if ever, held major command in the service, yet served it well. Ideally, the board would be headed by a competent politician, supported by seaman-admirals with some political acumen. Needless to say, this balance was rarely achieved, not least because board members owed allegiance to opposing political parties.

  To simplify decision-making, the board was rarely more than seven strong. Much routine business was decided by the First Lord alone but, in the case of important decisions, at least three members needed to sign the minutes. Available board members met most days at the Admiralty office in Whitehall, which also housed the executive staff whose task it was to initiate action on the board’s decisions. At the head of this was the first secretary, whose degree of empowerment made him a considerable and often well-known figure in his own right. The Board of Admiralty’s brief ranged from fleet deployment to individual promotions, via related aspects such as victualling, hydrography and naval hospitals. Its most important subsidiary was the Navy Board, directed by the comptroller.

  This body was predominantly civilian in composition and had the primary responsibility of satisfying the service’s material requirements. Its most significant figure was the surveyor who, together with his assistants, oversaw ship design, construction and maintenance. Having risen through the dockyard system, each was an experienced shipwright. At a time when science had yet to be wedded to ship design, such experience was crucial to the fighting efficiency of the ships specified. Through its commissioners, the Navy Board ran the dockyards, while selecting and supervising the many civilian contractors whose participation was vital in absorbing surges in activity consequent upon sudden mobilization.

  About ten strong, the Navy Board was notorious for the longevity of its serving members who, enjoying a comfortable living, contrived to remain in post despite advancing years, increasing infirmity and impaired faculties. There was great scope for graft in a system that was desperately inefficient but, with the accounting methods available, it was usually impossible to establish whether a proportion of funds was being dissipated through dishonesty or simply through poor practice. What is certain is that the official manpower establishment was never achieved on the funds provided, while royal dockyards were subjected to periodic major reviews in working practices that resulted in only cosmetic improvements.

  Funds were allocated by Parliament in the annual Naval Estimates. The figure depended largely upon the numbers and types of ship required by the Board of Admiralty to pursue its tasks. This, in turn, decided manpower, and it was this establishment that determined the total, the overall sum being based simply on a fixed amount per head. Allocation of money was primarily to wages, ship construction and maintenance, and ordnance.

  Ordnance, of course, was the major raison d’etre for each of the navy’s warships and it was a further peculiarity of the system that the Ordnance Board was an independent body. Because it supplied all guns and explosives to both the army and the navy, it answered directly to the Cabinet. In fairness, the system functioned well, although it was as conservative as the remainder of the service.

  Where the Board of Admiralty was responsible for officer’s commissions, the warrants of senior non-commissioned officers were issued by the Navy Board. These ‘warrant officers’ included the sailing masters, senior gunners and surgeons upon whom the efficiency of the day-to-day running of a ship greatly depended.

  The Navy Board thus exercised considerable authority but, due to the diversity of its interests, was inevitably unwieldly and usually enjoyed an unsatisfactory relationship with the Board of Admiralty. Not the least problem was simply that the navy itself was expanding. New developments necessitated new administration which, instead of being allocated to existing departments, resulted in the creation of more. By 1793 there were no less than thirteen such organizations, each with its own commissioner and administrative structure and located at sites scattered across the capital and at Chatham and at Portsmouth. Several and unsuccessful were the overhauls of the Navy Board’s working structure and it is perhaps not surprising that it eventually disappeared through the gradual assimilation of its functions by the Admiralty.

  The general inefficiency of the Navy Board’s activities had, fortunately, been largely offset in recent years by the felicitous appointment of Sir Charles Middleton as comptroller. Although 52 years old when he assumed the post in 1778, he was still only a senior captain in rank. He had served at sea without particular distinction but now excelled as an administrator. His twelve years as comptroller saw the active and reserve fleets well provided for, his eventual departure from office leaving the service in a condition where the rapid expansion of 1793 was greatly facilitated.

  Middleton was perhaps the most prominent example of the political admiral, gaining flag rank only in service ashore and never wearing his flag in command at sea. During this period, as was common, he became a Member of Parliament, only to have his outside interests curtailed when the new war saw him appointed to the Board of Admiralty. He proved equally adept at the navy’s direction, eventually shouldering the heaviest responsibility as First Lord, a post that he assumed when Lord Melville resigned following impeachment. At this point he accepted a peerage, becoming Lord Barham.

  Irascible, never doubting his own judgement, Barham brooked little dissent and was difficult to work with. His avowed policy, however, was to maintain a powerful primary battle fleet in the western approaches to the English Channel, both to watch activities in the French Atlantic ports and to safeguard the distant inward and outward flow of British trade. Barham would certainly have agreed with Mahan’s later criticism of Howe’s insistence on basing this force at Spithead rather than Torbay. Fortunately for Howe’s sensitivities, Barham was not appointed to the Board of Admiralty until the year following.

  HAVING RECEIVED a direct requirement from the Cabinet, the First Lord would call a meeting of the Board of Admiralty. This would assess the necessary resources, and specify to the Navy Board what to provide. On the board’s behalf, the first secretary would also frame the necessary orders for the commander-in-chief (C-in-C) within whose station limits the desired action was to be taken. Routine orders to commanding officers of ships and shore stations at home and abroad were usually issued through who was at this time termed the First Professional Lord (later renamed the First Sea Lord), who was likely, but not necessarily, to be a seaman-admiral.


  Depending upon the size and importance of a station, its C-in-C might be as senior as an admiral of the fleet (of which rank there was, until 1805, only one at any one time) or as junior as a commodore, who was often a senior captain promoted only for the duration of a task or appointment.

  Commanders-in-chief were carefully selected for, in those days before science speeded up communication, instructions could reach them on distant stations no more quickly than a fast ship could carry them. Besides managing and, when necessary, fighting their fleets, C-in-Cs had to be very much diplomats and able to use initiative when faced with a quickly developing local situation. Unless, therefore, he was embarking upon a campaign that required specific orders, a C-in-C’s instructions from the Admiralty were surprisingly lacking in detail, mainly to avoid imposing undue restriction upon his available range of options.

  On an important station, the C-in-C might have several score ships under his command, organized into divisions or squadrons led by subordinate commanders. The first, and most obvious, divisions were those into which the line of battle was organized. This unwieldly formation might be several miles in length and, signalling methods being what they were, the best place for a C-in-C was in the centre of the line, approximately equispaced from either end. The Centre was thus the senior, or Red, division, all of whose ships wore red ensigns. As there was at this time only one Admiral of the Red he was literally ‘Admiral of the Fleet’ and would be unlikely to be holding a seagoing appointment. The Centre was preceded by the Van, or White, division and followed by the junior Rear, or Blue, division. Each of these also wore distinctively coloured ensigns.

  Flagships of each division were identified by the wearing at the masthead of an ensign of the appropriate colour, plain red, plain blue or white with a red St George’s cross. All ships of the line had three masts, an admiral wearing his distinguishing flag at the main, a vice admiral at the fore and a rear admiral at the mizen.

  The C-in-C’s ship was usually the largest, both to reflect his own status and to accommodate his considerable staff. The day-to-day running of the ship was still the responsibility of her appointed commanding officer, who carried the title of flag captain. His increased responsibilities carried no extra emolument except when his ship wore the flag of a full admiral.

  Subordinate to the C-in-C and serving on his immediate staff was the captain of the fleet. Despite his title, he might also hold flag rank, his role being to act as chief of staff and adviser to the C-in-C. As such, he was privy to the C-in-C’s intentions and, should the latter be incapacitated, he was empowered to act in his stead even though he might be junior in rank to the divisional commanders.

  In the normal course of its activities a fleet might include inshore squadrons, flying squadrons or frigate squadrons so that, considering the force as a whole, a complex hierarchy emerged.

  Due to the high incidence of disease and accident, as well as action, mortality was high by today’s standards. This might involve considerable clerical work: the loss of, say, the commanding officer of a frigate could result in each of his officers being promoted by a rank with, at the bottom end, the granting of a commission to a warrant holder.

  A flagship needed to be able to communicate a C-in-C’s requirements to the remainder of ships in company. By day this was by means of flag hoists. Flags were far from ideal as they were difficult to read when viewed against the sun or when streamed directly toward or away from the observer. They could also be obscured by sails or, once battle was joined, by smoke. Frigates were thus commonly stationed as ‘repeating ships’.

  The book Admiralty Fighting Instructions was a standard work, revised periodically and issued to all commanding officers. Each thus knew what was expected of him but still required to be informed of exactly when. Numerous sea officers, notably Kempenfelt, who had studied French practice, had already proposed codes of signalling and, while it would be 1799 before the first official Admiralty book was distributed, the systems already in use were, despite shortcomings, quite comprehensive. During 1793 both Howe and Hood produced systems, although that of the latter was acknowledged to be mainly the work of his secretary, John MacArthur, who was an enthusiast in the field.

  Flag signals had moved on from the earliest straight substitution of a flag for each number or letter. MacArthur’s system, besides being able to spell out specific words, comprised mainly groups of four flags to represent numbers of up to 9,999. Each number represented a specific command or enquiry, listed in a signal book held by each ship. Many usefully posed specific questions that required a response. Others were left blank, allowing a C-in-C to allocate them for purposes appropriate to his own operations, for instance to call up individual ships.

  Nothing, however, could much improve on a senior officer having a total rapport with his subordinate commanding officers, so that he knew instinctively what his admiral would require and needed no more than an executive signal. The interpretation of flag signals, their misrepresentation or their being ignored were recurrent themes at courts martial.

  PERSONNEL

  By modern standards, recruitment to the Royal Navy’s officer class was haphazard in the extreme, yet the searching nature of an individual’s experience within the service was a powerful means of filtering out the incapable. History itself bears witness to the fact that the will to win was rarely found wanting although, on occasion, aggression exceeded ability.

  This was the age of the great landowner, the squire, who in the absence of the kind of centralized bureaucracy that today is taken for granted exercised virtually absolute power over all tenants within his boundaries. Magistrate or justice of the peace, he represented the law. Education, the provision (or not) of benefit and almshouses fell within his gift. Where profitable or necessary he built roads and infrastructure, and he maintained a useful two-way relationship with the church. Many great landowners were titled, others were merely ‘gentry’. Some were becoming yet more wealthy as the gathering momentum of the industrial revolution increased the demand for land upon which to construct factories and the mass housing for their associated workforce.

  Largely dependent upon the patronage of the landowners were the professional classes, the schoolmasters, parsons and lawyers. It was from within this now-disappeared social structure that the navy’s officers were largely drawn. Connections and a good name remained important, but social status less so, as the navy expanded rapidly at the outset of such as the French Revolutionary War.

  The Royal Navy of the late eighteenth century ran on the very minimum of administrative staff, and there was no regulated entry system. As the existing methods of recruitment produced suitable numbers of aspirants with the desired qualities, there was little incentive to change them. Most young men entering the service were virtually apprenticed to a specific commanding officer for the necessary three years’ sea time that regulations stipulated must be served before they could be rated master’s mates or midshipmen. For this period they were quaintly termed ‘Captain Servants’, a commanding officer being entitled to employ four such for every hundred men in his ship’s complement. This strange system was one of preferment and, where a captain might take a titled lad free of charge for the social status thus derived, the majority came with a negotiated sum which greatly enhanced a commanding officer’s income, for the average third rate might carry a score of ‘young gentlemen’ on its books.

  As with most loosely regulated systems, it was open to abuse, particularly by those already well-placed within the service. Officers such as Rodney and Cochrane were, with a little exercise of a ‘blind eye’, able to enter infants on the books of ships in order to give them a flying start, a procedure that occasionally resulted in grotesque anomalies such as Rodney’s indifferently gifted son making post captain at the age of 15.

  It was evident, however, that the Admiralty was getting to grips with the necessary regulation of the system for, in 1794, the category of ‘Captain’s Servant’ would be abolished in favour o
f a ‘Volunteer, Class I’, who had to be at least 11 years of age and who, for the first time, would be paid a stipulated wage. A commanding officer could now no longer continue with the fiction that an infant was serving aboard his ship for, as his charge would now have to appear on the ship’s payroll, the risks of deception were too great.

  An alternative method of entry was through the Royal Naval College in Portsmouth dockyard or through ‘crammers’ such as Burney’s Academy in Gosport. Many such lads benefited by scholarships and studied a specified range of subjects. Although this was a logical beginning for a career, it was not popular. In addition to universal disapproval from commanding officers whose privileges were being eroded, the service itself was not in favour of what it regarded as intellectuals. It was, in any case, thought that the latest age at which a boy should go to sea was 13.

  A third route for entry was via the merchant service or from the lower deck. This often produced consummate seamen (Captain James Cook was but one example) but they seldom made high rank due to their lack of social influence.

  Education in the service was subordinated to practical skills. A schoolmaster might be found aboard a large ship but, to a great extent, the theoretical aspects of seagoing, particularly mathematics and navigation, were taught by the captain himself or a designated officer. There was no standard curriculum but both ‘volunteers’ and the midshipmen that they became were given considerable responsibility. The best were re-rated Master’s Mates and understudied lieutenants at watchkeeping.

  Regulations demanded that youngsters could not attend the all-important examining boards for lieutenant before they had attained the age of 20 and had served at least six years’ sea time. Although each of these requirements could be ‘fiddled’ to a degree, the average candidate was by now a seaman of considerable experience. Practical skills and personality impressed a board more than academic attainment. In its imperfect and rather casual way the system, in general, produced very good officers.