Andrew Lambert, in No More Napoleons, you describe Britain’s strategy between 1815 and 1914 as “book-ended by existential total wars”. What prompted you to reconsider the 19th century not as an age of complacency, but instead a hundred years of vigilance?

The tendency of most histories of British policy to switch in 1815 from defeating to Napoleon to domestic troubles and political reform, ignoring the security threats that persisted, not least the instability and hostility of France, under a succession of regimes. It was obvious to me that Waterloo was a pre-planned event, and when I found Charles Repington’s 1900 discussion of the ‘Wellington System’ I realised that it provided the key to so much of the strategic development of the century.

A central theme of the book is the importance of denying the Scheldt Estuary and Antwerp to a hostile power. Why were the Low Countries such a focal point and so central to British Grand Strategy for the hundred years after Waterloo?

The Scheldt was the one location in Northern Europe where Napoleon, or any other French ruler, could assemble a fleet of transports ships, a battlefleet and an army to invade England. It was the site of the Battle of Sluys at the beginning of the Hundred Years War, and the base that the Armada was planning to use to load more troops. The destruction of Vlissingen in 1809 was the key to British success in the Napoleonic conflict – and Wellington’s ‘system’ enable Britain to secure it with a small expeditionary army based in England, travelling via the new harbour at Dover.

You discuss the jittery moments of European peace during the 19th century. Were these moments of panic, or were they useful means of securing public support for Britain’s continental policies?

Those panics were largely a reaction to the very low level of defence spending that enabled the State to address the immense burden of debt incurred in the period 1793-1815 – an opportunity to re-consider defence. They also enabled officers to agitate for appointments. Wellington used them sparingly to push his key projects, including the new harbours and the 1852 Militia Bill.

The ‘Wellington System’ combined diplomacy, economic recovery and control of the seas. How conscious were 19th-century statesmen who followed in the Duke’s footsteps of preserving this doctrine?

Wellington’s system worked best under Tory governments, the Whig/Liberal party was more willing to take risks with security to save money, but liberal statesman Lord Palmerston in office from 1807 to 1866, a former liberal Conservative understood and sustained the Duke’s approach.

Your books, Seapower States and The British Way of War, preceded this title. How does No More Napoleons extend or challenge the arguments proposed in those histories about maritime power and military strategy?

In essence Seapower States argued that Britian was a distinctive great power which depended on the seas for security, prosperity and culture, in contrast to the continental models of the other major states of the period, more akin to ancient Athens and Venice than France or Spain, a reality that shaped national strategy. The British Way of War covers the period 1890-1914, when national strategy was captured and processed by Julian Corbett, to provide security for the country, the empire and the vital sea lanes that connected the entire system. As a relatively small and weak power, in land terms, the failure to follow Wellington’s system in 1914 proved catastrophic because it took men and money away from ships, industry, imperial security, and profit to wage a war for France.

Technological innovation and the modernisation of the British navy’s fleet are both covered. Do you see parallels between that period of transformation and the challenges and opportunities faced by maritime strategists now?

The pace of technological change began to accelerate from 1815, with machine made interchangeable parts rigging blocks as a pioneer in 1805. Weapons, ships and communications were transformed to make the Wellington System work. This process of endless change has continued ever since, today we expect permanent change. While Wellington’s generation found it surprising, initially, we take it for granted. New systems and tools are a constant, the question is will they work under combat conditions.

You mention the failure in 1914 to prioritise Antwerp and the Scheldt, a decision with catastrophic consequences as we know. Was it the leaders, both in the political and military spheres, who were to blame for this historical forgetfulness, or is a mistake such as this merely how history functions?

The fateful, if not catastrophic decision to commit the army to France in August 1914 was prompted by Winston Churchill, the First Lord of the Admiralty, cheered by a small group of leading soldiers, who were anxious not to work with the Navy, this was not contested by the only naval officer present, the First Sea Lord. The politicians had no opinion whatsoever, despite Gladstone’s excellent example of Britain should deal with such events in 1870. British politicians allowing themselves be led into folly by soldiers is a recurring theme – I hope this book will give them reason to pause… but I’m not optimistic.

Can you give us a little précis about the next project you are currently working on?

I have begun a study of Anglo-Russian relations from their emergence of as great powers around 1700 to the end of Britain’s era as a world power, with the sea, as a central theme.

Andrew Lambert is the author of No More Napoleons: How Britain Managed Europe from Waterloo to World War One, The British Way of War and Seapower States, each published by Yale University Press.