represent practically the whole present strength of their two nations,
if one of them be destroyed, while the other remains fit for action,
there will be much less hope now than formerly that the vanquished
can restore his navy for that war; and the result will be disastrous
just in proportion to the dependence of the nation upon her sea power.
A Trafalgar would have been a much more fatal blow to England than it
was to France, had the English fleet then represented, as the allied
fleet did, the hulk of the nation's power. Trafalgar in such a case
would have been to England what Austerlitz was to Austria, and Jena to
Prussia; an empire would have been laid prostrate by the destruction
or disorganization of its military forces, which, it is said, were the
favorite objective of Napoleon.

But does the consideration of such exceptional disasters in the past
justify the putting a low value upon that reserve strength, based upon
the number of inhabitants fitted for a certain kind of military life,
which is here being considered? The blows just mentioned were dealt by
men of exceptional genius, at the head of armed bodies of exceptional
training, "esprit-de-corps," and prestige, and were, besides,
inflicted upon opponents more or less demoralized by conscious
inferiority and previous defeat. Austerlitz had been closely preceded
by Ulm, where thirty thousand Austrians laid down their arms without a
battle; and the history of the previous years had been one long record
of Austrian reverse and French success. Trafalgar followed closely
upon a cruise, justly called a campaign, of almost constant failure;
and farther back, but still recent, were the memories of St. Vincent
for the Spaniards, and of the Nile for the French, in the allied
fleet. Except the case of Jena, these crushing overthrows were not
single disasters, but final blows; and in the Jena campaign there was
a disparity in numbers, equipment, and general preparation for war,