The operations of 1691 were of a nature to confirm this belief. A powerful fleet was sent to sea by the allies under the command of Russell. Its movements throughout the summer were wearisome and unimportant. It went to and fro between May and the beginning of autumn. In the meantime Tourville was at sea with a fleet of eighty sail of the line. His cruise is rather a famous passage in French naval history. He contrived to keep the sea without allowing himself to be forced to battle—and at last, by making clever use of a shift of wind, managed to get into Brest untouched by the allied fleet. The pride of the French of the time with this achievement, and the satisfaction they have expressed at it since, are the condemnation of a navy, and a method of conducting war. Tourville was quite strong enough to fight the allies, yet his movements were directed to avoiding battle and to capturing merchant ships. As a matter of fact, he missed his great prize, the Smyrna convoy, and in the meantime Limerick, King James’s last stronghold in Ireland, was taken, and the country thoroughly subdued. The great French fleet had preserved itself, but the King of France had lost an ally who kept up a useful diversion of the resources of England. A fighting force which makes it a principal object to avoid battle is doomed to defeat when it comes across an enemy who makes it a steady rule to fight. But the French never took the view that if you wish to use the sea you must drive your enemy off it, and if you want to do that you must smash him. In the dullest times the English navy has always understood that the beating of the French navy was the preliminary to everything else. The French government, which was much distressed by lack of money, was angry with Tourville for missing the convoy, and accused him of timidity.