commission have been steadily attended to—and
most especially since the Russian war. During
the brief interval since that struggle (when the
French fleets, acting with ours, made a very
respectable figure) our neighbours have been
more active than ever.  The tables in Mr.
Hans Busk's Navies of the World surprise us
by showing how new their big ships are—their
Algesiras, Eylau, Arcole, and so forth.   It is
impossible to get perfectly exact information on
such points, and, in times like these, the facts
are changing every week. But the general
impression to be derived from the authorities is that,
during this summer, France has been equal to us
in line-of-battle force, and, on the whole, ahead
in the matter of frigates. Our largest vessels
seem somewhat superior to theirs, taken
altogether. Their nineties, however, of which a
line of battle would be mainly composed, seem
to be fit to stand up against the corresponding
class of any other navy.

Superiority, however, does not depend on
ships only. Superiority is the result of the
aggregate of advantages. Say that wood, iron,
and energy, enable the French to turn out
thirty-two screw-liners to our thirty-two—to
keep twelve in commission to our twelve in
any given sea, and so on—a phenomenon we
must expect, if we don't work harder than they,
what is the next point of comparison?   Just at
present it is rather a disadvantageous one for
us; it opens the question of "manning."

The French meet this difficulty like a great
military and despotic power. Their "inscription"
simply views the whole seamen of France
as liable to serve in the marine, and organises
them accordingly. The Minister of Marine
disposes of ninety thousand seamen, as our Scotland-
yard disposes of the metropolitan police. The
whole system is different from ours, and based
on different principles. Our ancestors went to
work in a free-and-easy way in manning the
navy. They respected the liberty of Jack at
ordinary times, and were glad to have him as a
volunteer; but they had no notion of doing
without him when the country was threatened;
and, when fitting out for war, they pressed him,
remorselessly. There are old gentlemen now
tottering about the seaports who think that "a
hot press" would put everything to rights; but
they must have observed the signs of the times
to little purpose, if they fancy that the system
would be found practicable in 1859.

Is there a naval officer who has not waited for
weeks and months in port till H.M.S. Intolerable,
or H.M.S. Procrastination had got men enough
to proceed to her station decently?  Devices
are resorted to of all kinds to coax them to
enter. Sometimes, seamen are made drunk and
"done out of their certificates"—not a very
honourable method. Sometimes bills of an
electioneering character are placarded over seaport
towns, calling on men to rally round So-and-So,
the popular skipper of the Such-and-Such.
Then it is that a captain's former commissions
are brought up against him—if he has been a
tight hand, "a regular devil;" if, when he
"had" the Peahen, the black-list was large, the
"liberty" (leave to go ashore) scanty, and all
the rest of it. A captain's character sticks to him
through life, and is an important element in the
manning question. The Admiralty have been
known to reserve an unpopular appointment till
the time when the vessel has been manned under
somebody else, and to effect the change at the
last moment. Every "dodge" of the kind tells
against the service in the long run; for sailors
have longer memories than people generally
think, and a sharp eye (like the rest of the
world) to their own convenience. If the
Admiralty goes on the principle of "using" them,
they fairly repay the Admiralty by "using" it.

Manning is our greatest difficulty, and
endless plans have been suggested of meeting
it. The men do not positively dislike the royal
service; only they prefer the greater freedom of
the merchant seaman's life.  You send ingenious
gentlemen to make speeches to them at the
seaports. They tell them of the advantages of
the navy, and they tell them what is literally
true. You live more comfortably, Jack, in a
sanitary point of view (which he proceeds to
explain).   Very true.   Look at the attendance
and comforts you have, when sick. Yes, sir.
Then there is your pension after length of service.
Yes, sir.   Greenwich Hospital.   Very true, sir.
And are you ever knocked about in that brutal
kind of way aboard a man-of-war that the police
reports show us, every now and then, is
known aboard merchant men?   No, sir.   And
so the confab goes on. But still there is an
impatience of routine—a "wild ass" sort of
feeling—in salt human nature, which is hard to
contend with, especially during peace time.  Men
don't go by their mere practical interests; but
by a medley of instincts and whimsies far less
easy to deal with.

This great obstacle is not altogether to be
regretted, however, since this very element
in their character is a part of the superiority
of our seamen to those of France. But
here, again, we are reminded that we live
in "changed times." It is the age of steam
and artillery. We still count on Tom Bowline;
but Tom is not born a gunner, and both Tom
and his inferior messmates must submit to drill
and discipline before entering into a general
action of a scientific character. Seventy years
ago, the case would have been more in his
favour. Admiral Blowhard would have out-
manÅ“uvred the French squadron altogether—
got to windward of them—attacked them just
when he liked—and pummelled them before
they had got their sea-legs. Now, we
require more preparation, and a preparation more
scientific; and we ought to have a permanent body
of naval seamen, just as we have the Horse
Guards and the Rifles. The use of a Channel
squadron would be to afford these men an
exercising ground; and it would be an admirable
arrangement if we could have all our naval
seamen going into and out of that squadron in turn.

Whatever plan may be ultimately adopted—
whether we have to establish a standing naval