MOROGUES AND VILLEHUET
In the period between the wars the French produced two theoreticians, both practiced seamen, who combined the rigorous intellectual discipline of l'Hoste with practical experience at sea to produce textbooks which proved much more influential than they had ever anticipated (or wanted) -- since their theories were later used most successfully by the British, against the French!
The first was Sebastien Francois des Bigot, Vicomte de Morogues, whose performance as a captain at Quiberon was one of the few bright moments for the French during that battle. His book, Tactique navale ou traite des evo/utions et des signaux, was perhaps the single finest theoretical and tactical manual ever devised during the entire Age of Fighting Sail. It appeared in 1763 and was translated into English by 1767, influencing entire generations of British officers.
Morogues starts his book with the basics, like l'Hoste, and develops his theory from fundamental principles. Like Anson before him, he demanded constant practice on the part of captains and gunners in both fleet and squadron drill. Possibly with the experience of Quiberon in mind, he came down in favor of using tactics aimed at crushing the enemy with a single, heavy blow, tactics later brought to perfection by Nelson. Since at sea an enemy could avoid such a blow, he recommended using superior concentration of fire and mobility as a means to this end. Since, with the restrictions imposed by the line of battle, concentration can be achieved only at the expense of mobility, he recommended the building of bigger ships with heavier guns. With larger ships and bigger artillery, a line equal in length to the enemy's will contain more firepower, and the line will also not have to be as well-formed in order to fight effectively.
I n 1765 Bourde de Villehuet, an officer in the French East India Company, published his Le Manoeuvrier, a tactical manual reflecting his experience under the brilliant French commander Mahe de la Bourdonnais. Though it was not published in English until 1788, it so influenced such English admirals as Kempenfelt that when Kempenfelt was urging his reforms of the signal books in 1781 he translated Villehuet's entire chapter on signals and sent it to his commander.
Villehuet's book concentrates heavily on a sophisticated system for fleet maneuvering, but his most influential ideas were on the system of signals that then prevailed in both the British and French fleets. Under the current system, flagships' orders depended on the position of flags on the masts, often accompanied by a number of gunshots. For instance, Bowcawen's signal book of 1759 specified that the signal for closer action was to be a red-and-white flag at the main topmast head followed by the firing of a gun. The number of flags and positions was limited, and hence the number of signals had its limitations.
Villehuet recommended replacing the signals with a numerical system, in which flags would be devised for the numbers 1-10, thus giving a numerical equivalent for each signal -- instead of the red-and-white flag and a gun, the admiral had only to hoist 999, for example, or 23, or whatever the code might be. The numerical system had the additional value of being more easily changed if the enemy managed to capture a codebook -- one could more easily alter a numerical code than go through the signal book and alter the position of colored flags and the number of guns.
USHANT
The early years of the War of Independence are of little interest to the student of fleet tactics. The American colonies possessed a thorough nautical tradition and large numbers of competent seamen, but they lacked a professional officer corps, captains trained in naval warfare, and a common body of naval doctrine. The usual run of Continental Navy captains (Paul Jones, Manley, and Biddle aside) were uninspired, incompetent, or cowardly, and the official records of the Continental Navy show an overwhelming majority of ships listed as "captured", "run aground within sight of an enemy squadron", or "burned to prevent capture".
The American seamen proved outstandingly successful privateersmen, however, and practiced an aggressive brand of nautical guerilla warfare against the British that did genuine damage to British commerce. It was chiefly from the ranks of successful privateers that the first captains of the United States Navy were drawn, late in the 1790's. Any American contributions to naval science would have to wait until then.
Any innovation was going to come from the British or the French, the two foremost nautical powers of the day. Both maintained large standing navies. Both navies had a strong theoretical grounding in the science of naval combat, the British in their Fighting and Additional Instructions, the French in the works of l'Hoste, Morogues, and Villehuet. The junior officer corps in both navies was highly professional and competent.
Both French and British had various handicaps to overcome. The British Navy had languished under the administration of Sandwich, a weak man of good intentions, and when the war with America broke out the British had less than 100 ships in commission. The French in their turn had to overcome the major disasters of the Seven Years' War, and in fact made a good start. The administrations of Choiseul and Sartines commenced a good shipbuilding program, and by 1778 the French were up to strength in capital ships, and had a good support structure in a naval bureaucracy that was about as efficient as such systems ever get.
Yet it was the British who began pursuing the path of innovation in naval strategy and tactics, and the French who, after a few initial attempts, lapsed into an incompetent complacency. Why did this come about? A good illustration can be found in the Battle of Ushant (Ouessant), the first major battle in which the French were involved and the largest naval combat since La Hogue in 1692. The battle produced a pair of notable courtsmartial, a series of pamphlet wars on both sides of the Channel, and, quite possibly, the overthrow of the Bourbon monarchy in France and, years later, the assumption to power of the last French King, Louis-Philippe.
Commanding the French "naval army" was the Comte d'Orvilliers, a competent sailor and a courageous one, but 68 and reluctant to come to grips with the enemy. Commanding the 32 sail of the line of the Ponant fleet (the "setting sun squadron", i.e. Atlantic Fleet, as opposed to the Levant "rising sun squadron", the Toulon Fleet), d'Orvilliers had been ordered in June 1778 to engage the attentions of the British channel fleet under Keppel, in order to assure that the Toulon squadron under d'Estaing could make its way to America without harassment. He hoped to manage it without a battle, but realized that French honor would demand an engagement if the English got close enough. "I flatter myself that I shall, if not beat [the British], at least put up a strong resistance," was the way he put it in a letter to Sartines, the minister of marine. One of his constant fears was that his aggressive junior officers would get into a battle he couldn't get out of.
His vice admiral, du Chaffault, was 70 and shared most of his opinions. But the rear admiral, commanding the blue squadron, was someone different. His name was Louis-Philippe-Joseph d'Orleans, duc de Chartres, son and heir of the duc d'Orleans and fourth in line for the throne of France. He was 31 years of age and already a dangerous man.
Since the time of Louis XIV the Bourbons had been living in fear of the cadet branch of the family, the dukes of Orleans. One of Chartres' ancestors was raised as a pederast in the hope of neutralizing him, but Monsieur instead proved to be a successful general (despite a perhaps apocryphal legend about leading his troops into battle while wearing women's clothes), a patron of the arts, and the father of a line of talented military commanders and successful politicians.
The Orleans line were known for their bravery, ability, and their talented demagoguery, which was more than their Bourbon cousins had going for them. The Bourbons were afraid (justifiably, as it turned out) that an Orleans would succeed in putting himself at the head of a popular movement and place himself on the throne. Philippe of Chartres was clearly the most able Orleans in three generations, and it was not surprised that Louis XVI took a personal interest in his military career... and it wasn't to cheer his new cousin on.
The Ponant squadron, one-third of which the inexperienced Chartres would command, had become something of a microcosm of the polarization within French society. The Frency Navy had long been divided between the "red" faction (composed of aristocratic officers who, in the words of one contemporary, "mingle in a single group and say 'tu' to each other like pals"), and the "blues", composed on the non-noble captains. The reds had furnished most of the higher officers, but historically it had been possible that a non-aristocrat like Jean Bart or Duguay-Trouin would rise to a position of high rank.
Not any more. With the accession of Louis XVI, the"nobiliary resurgence" had commenced. Promotion above the rank of frigate captain was forbidden to the blues. Blues who, through some fluke, had already been given high rank were rotated out of sea commands and put to work on shore. Reds were given precedence within the ranks regardless of seniority - an aristocratic officer with a commission one hour old was allowed to boss around a commoner with a lifetime at sea. All naval appointments were kept firmly in the hands of the crown, which used it ruthlessly to promote court favorites, an example being the Admiral of France, Chartres' father-in-law, who had never so much as set foot on a boat, except for a few he had built on an ornamental lake on his estate. It was clear that no matter how competent a commoner was, no matter how many victories he won or enemies he captured, promotion was closed to him throughout the French military service. Instead of promoting talented juniors who happened to be commoners, the crown considered them a threat to the social order.
The result of this was that the upper reaches of the French command structure became fossilized, based on birth and success at court rather than ability. Talented junior officers, realizing that promotion was denied them and that competence was beginning to be equated with sedition, left the service. The results of the fine naval administration of Choiseul and Sartines was to a large degree neutralized by the insistence of the crown on promoting people high in degree but low in ability. The competent French admirals like de Grasse and Suffren were constantly handicapped by the vast incompetence of their aristocratic juniors, who muddled up their battles and displayed vices ranging from inebriation to cowardice in the face of the enemy, and who, because of their rank, could not be got rid of.
This was in contrast to the British, who were - for the 18th Century, at least - a much more egalitarian service. Promotion was supposed to be on merit, and unlike the Army no one in the Navy could purchase a commission. The result was a service open to commoners like Anson, Cook, and Nelson. Though "influence" certainly counted, often the influence was with superior officers interested in promoting talent, and the horrid excesses of the French system were avoided. Promotions were in the hands of the Admiralty, not the King, and though politics often played a major role in Admiralty decisions, the preservation of a moribund social order and royal absolutism was not one of their priorities. The Navy was known as the "W higgish" service, the Whigs being the more liberal and arguably the more progressive of the political factions, and the most opposed to the use of absolute royal authority.
Chartres, promoted rear-admiral at the age of 31, could have been expected to join the red faction along with his fellow aristos, but instead he swerved immediately to the blues, inviting the disenfranchised commoners to dine with him and claiming he was honored to serve at their side. Perhaps this was a political ploy on the part of the Orleans, and perhaps it sprang from conviction - Chartres was a high-degree Mason in an era when freemasonry's claim of a brotherhood of man was a subversive idea - but it is not surprising that Louis, back in Versailles, heard the ring of demagoguery in Chartre's speeches and began to wonder if the talented young man was not a traitor to his class.
Opposed to the Ponant squadron was the British channel fleet of thirty battleships under Keppel. The British fleet, like the French, was rent by political discord. Keppel was a talented officer, a Whig who had refused to serve against the Americans, and a political opponent of Sandwich, a Tory. His vice-admiral, Harland, supported Keppel through what was to come, but his rear-admiral, Sir Hugh Palliser, was a staunch Tory, an ally of Sandwich, and was furthermore a member of the Board of Admiralty, which under the authority of the crown, parliament, and Sandwich ran the British Navy. Palliser was Keppel's inferior in naval rank but his superior in political terms, a situation from which a lot of grief would arise. The tension between senior and junior admirals recalls Matthews and Lestock at Toulon, and like Toulon the battle off Ushant would result in courts-martial with decided political overtones.
Keppel took his fleet to sea without any particular goal in mind other than to engage the French, presumably on the notion that when nations are at war they ought to have a battle now and again, particularly at the start so that everyone can see how the wind is blowing -- a notion that d'Orvilliers, however reluctantly, also accepted. The fleets sighted each other on July 23rd, eightly miles west of Ushant. For the next three days the French, who had the weather gage, managed to keep to windward and avoid combat. It is possible that d'Orvilliers, who did not believe his crews and officers had received enough training, was using this time to make certain his captains knew their business; but it is most likely he simply wanted to give the fates every possible chance of separating the antagonists. The delay worked to the disadvantage of the French, since two of their ships strayed in the night and were lost, and so the fleets came into the battle with 30 ships each.
At daybreak on the 27th Keppel noticed Palliser's rear squadron was lagging behind, and so he made a signal to seven of Palliser's nine ships to increase sail and rejoin the fleet. Palliser apparently resented what he considered a usurpation of his authority, although his squadron shortly rejoined the fleet. The British squadrons were not as yet in any regular formation, instead being grouped loosely around their admirals.
The French were in line ahead, to windward of the British, on the larboard tack with the wind at about SSW. D'Orvilliers either decided that the battle could no longer be put off and decided to move to engage, or else (if his intentions were still to deny action) he made a major blunder. He ordered his fleet to wear onto the starboard tack, and furthermore ordered them to wear in succession, starting with the lead ship. This was a very lengthy maneuver and resulted in the entire fleet losing a lot of ground to leeward. At this point the wind backed counterclockwise about a point, allowing the British to make more ground to windward. Now the French were steering southeasterly, still in line ahead, with the British fleet almost directly astern of them and on the opposite tack. The French had, intentionally or no, lost their ability to deny combat.
Keppel, having gained the French wake, now ordered his entire fleet to tack in pursuit of the enemy. In the spirit of Anson, he did not order his fleet into line of battle, which would have taken too much time, but instead let the ships sort themselves out into a rough line as he pursued the French.
D'Orvilliers concluded that his rear ships, under de Chartres, were in danger of being overwhelmed by the entire pursuing British fleet, and now ordered his ships to wear simutaneously. This lost further ground to leeward, and it was now impossible to avoid combat. The fleets were now on opposite tacks, heading directly toward one another under easy sail with the French slightly to windward (Fig. 3A). Neither fleet was in very strict line of battle; the British hadn't had time to form a proper line, and the French maneuvering had disorganized their own formation.
Philippe de Chartres was now leading the French line, and ordered the first broadside of the battle. The fleets passed one another slowly, engaging each enemy in turn. During the battle the wind dropped and veered clockwise to about NNW, putting the wind on the British quarter (their fastest point of sailing), and forcing the French to sail close-hauled.
A great many British historians have cited this battle as evidence for the supposed French tactic of firing high, at the masts, as opposed to firing low
The situation recalls that of the battle of St. Vincent, where Nelson declined to obey the signals of his elderly chief, and instead lead his squadron in a bold maneuver against a divided enemy, at one stroke winning the battle. But here at Ushant, the French commanders proved at the hull. Five British ships were crippled aloft during the course of the fight, and many others had their masts and sails severely damaged. Contemporary British officers, and the historians who interviewed them, assume that this damage was deliberate.
No French source has ever agreed with the British on this score. No French officer ever took credit for a deliberate policy of firing high. It is most likely that French gunnery was simply inferior, and French ships, as a whole, had a tendency to fire high. British crews were better-drilled at the guns and had a greater chance of putting their shot where intended. The French fired high, not because it was their tactic, but because they were inferior naval gunners. j
Because of the haste with which the British entered battle, it was likely that s there was some separation of the squadrons before the battle began. This tendency was increased during the course of the battle, primarily because of the wind shift. When the wind veered Palliser's rear squadron was able to get closer to the enemy, thereby absorbing more damage and ending the fight to windward of the rest of the British. As the enemy fleet passed by, Palliser brought his entire squadron farther up into the wind and hove to, repairing his damaged masts.
The van squadron under Harland, on the contrary, tacked in succession as soon as the enemy was past, heading in pursuit. Keppel's flagship and several of the other ships in his squadron were too damaged to be sure of tacking, and so the center squadron wore instead.
The British fleet was now in four distinct groups. Palliser's squadron was two or three miles to windward, repairing. Far to leeward were the five crippled British ships, also motionless. Between them were Harland and Keppel, Keppel on Harland's lee quarter (Fig. 3B).
The French, however, had managed to keep together. D'Orvilliers had worn the fleet together again, reversing the order of the ships. With the wind shifting clockwise, he had the option of renewing the engagement, but apparently he decided that parading his ships past the enemy, out of range, was sufficient for the honor of the flag.
D'Orvilliers was throwing away a heavent-sent opportunity. The British were so badly divided, with their five cripples well to leeward of any support, that at the very least the French could have bagged five ships by making the least aggressive move. But d'Orvilliers was content with not losing, and had no intention of taking any chances. He lacked the mental flexibility to take advantage of the situation.
But Philippe de Chartres was not content to merely follow the lead of his elderly commander. He saw the five helpless British ships, and from his position at the very end of the line, ordered his squadron to turn to starboard and drive between the five cripples and their support. they weren't the happy" band of brothers" led by Nelson. Chartres' signal was ignored by his entire squadron.
Nothing daunted, Chartres drove straight for the enemy himself, hoping his squadron would follow. They didn't. And d'Orvilliers, seeing a single ship charging straight for the British, peremptorily ordered him to return to the line. The French formal school had won the day, assisted by a timid, elderly admiral and a squadron full of sycophantic captains. These were the same sort of aristocratic, incompetent captains who were later to prove the despair of Suffren and de Grasse, hamstringing the plans of the two talented admirals.
Keppel, meanwhile, realized full well the danger his ships were in. He edged his own squadron down to cover the cripples and hoisted the signal for the line, assuming Palliser would rejoin the fleet while Harland fell in ahead of him. Harland obeyed, but Palliser ignored the signal, even when it was reinforced by a verbal message delivered by frigate. Palliser eventually rejoined late in the afternoon, but it was too late to renew the engagement. D'Orvilliers scuttled for harbor during the night, and the battle of Ushant was over.
Once again, a shifting wind and unforseen circumstance had made hash out of what could have been a formal, textbook battle. Palliser's refusal to support Keppel could have been the undoing of the British fleet, but d'Orvilliers was too concerned with not losing to actually take a chance on winning an engagement, even when the chance was pointed out to him by a talented subordinate. His idea of an engagement was to fire some broadsides pour l'honneur du pavillion and then go home for breakfast. Keppel, on the other hand, had shown himself much more flexible, ordering his fleet in pursuit of the French without ordering his line. His initiative came to naught due to the combined perversities of the wind and Palliser, but it shows him a worthy commander much abused by circumstance.
The battle had major repercussions. Keppel's formal report of the battle bore no complaint about Palliser's conduct, but his captains were more outspoken and the result was a newspaper war, questions in Parliament, and courts-martial for Palliser (at his own request) and Keppel. Both were found innocent, though Palliser was "admonished" by the court for not supporting his chief.
In France the results of the battle were more earth-shaking. Philippe de Chartres had become the darling of the fleet, if not its commanders, and was given the honor of carrying d'Orvilliers' report to Paris and the King. D'Orvilliers' unofficial report to Sartines was less flattering - he actually blamed Chartres for the fact the battle wasn't a victory! Apparently d'Orvilliers wasn't too old to know what Versailles wanted to hear.
Chartres was the hero at the moment, cheered at the Opera, but Versailles soon launched its own counterattack. Soon, Chartres was being accused of cowardice, and subjected to satiric broadsides and slanderous ballads. The crowd that had cheered him at the Opera now booed him. As a result, Chartres resigned the navy and was given a meaningless appointment as "Lieutenant General of Light Infantry".
The Bourbons had won their feud with their capable cousin, a prince who had dared to sit down to table with commoners and thus shown himself an enemy of everything the ancien regime stood for. But the price of the feud - and of the nobiliary resurgence of which it was a symptom - was an artificial stasis in French society and the military. With promotions being made on the basis of noble birth and perceived personal loyalty to the regime, the French Navy, despite it promising beginnings and excellent support structure, was doomed, like the society it represented, to an empty repetition of formless tactical ritual. True innovation was not to be allowed, and even success was grounds for suspicion. The true heirs of Morogues and Villehuet were Howe, Rodney, Kempenfelt, and Nelson.
Chartres later inherited his father's title of duc d'Orleans, and dedicated his capable intelligence, considerable energy and vast wealth to the destruction of the Bourbon monarchy. His wealth and social position, plus the communication network provided by the Grand Orient Lodge of which he was president, greatly assisted the coordination and finance of the revolutionary forces during the early period of the revolution. Supporting some of the most radical positions of the revolutionaries, d'Orleans changed his name to Philippe d'Egalite and voted for the death of his cousin Louis, before himself losing his head to political enemies who accused him of wanting to make himself King. It was Philippe who had the last laugh, however -- in 1830 his son, Louis-Philippe, became the last King of the French after his restored Bourbon cousin had been evicted by yet another revolution.
A History of Sailing Tactics in the Age of Fighting Sail Part II
- Battle of Toulon and Minorca
Additional Instructions, Anson, and Hawke
Morogues, Villehuet, and Ushant
Signal Reform
DeGrasse and Suffern
A History of Sailing Tactics in the Age of Fighting Sail Part I
A History of Sailing Tactics in the Age of Fighting Sail Part III
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