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Thus ended the longest period of retirement enjoyed by Nelson, from the opening of the war with France, in 1793, until his death in 1805. During it, besides the separation from Lady Nelson, two great breaks occurred in his personal ties and surroundings. His father died at Bath on the 26th of April, 1802, at the age of seventy-nine. There had been no breach in the love between the two, but it seems to the author impossible to overlook, in the guarded letters of the old man to his famous son, a tinge of regret and disapproval for the singular circumstances under which he saw fit to live. That he gladly accepted the opinion professed by many friends, naval and others, and carefully fostered by the admiral, that his relations with Lady Hamilton were perfectly innocent, is wholly probable; but, despite the usual silence concerning his own views, observed by himself and Nelson, two clues to his thought and action appear in his letters. One is the remark, already quoted, that gratitude required him to spend some of his time with Lady Nelson. The other, singular and suggestive, is the casual mention to Nelson that he had received an anonymous letter, containing "severe reproaches for my conduct to you, which is such, it seems, as will totally separate us."⁵⁸ There is no record that he permitted himself to use direct expostulation, and it seems equally clear that he would not, by any implication, manifest approval or acquiescence. It has been said, indeed, but only upon the authority of Lady Hamilton, that it was his intention to take up his residence entirely at Merton, with the admiral and the Hamiltons; an act which would have given express countenance to the existing arrangements, and disavowed, more strongly than any words, the bearing imputed to him by the anonymous letter. In whose interest would such a letter most likely be penned? Nelson mourned him sincerely, but was prevented by illness from being present at the funeral. He is a man known to us only by his letters, which are marked by none of the originality that distinguishes the professional utterances of the admiral, and cannot be said to rise much above the commonplace; but they show a strong and unaffected piety, and particularly a cheerful, resolute, acceptance of the infirmities of protracted old age, which possesses charm and inspires respect. There is also a clear indication of the firmness that characterized Nelson himself, in the determination, amid all the feebleness of age, and notwithstanding his pride and love for his famous son, upon whom, too, he was partially dependent, that he would not join in the general abandonment of the wife by the husband's family. His attitude in this regard, as far as can be inferred from his letters, commands sympathy and admiration.

A year later, on the 6th of April, 1803, Sir William Hamilton also died, "in Lady Hamilton's and my arms," wrote Nelson, "without a sigh or a struggle. The world never lost a more upright and accomplished gentleman." Lady Hamilton, with ready tears, recorded: "Unhappy day for the forlorn Emma. Ten minutes past ten dear blessed Sir William left me." The grouping of figures and emotions at that death-bed was odd almost beyond comprehension; one of the most singular studies which human nature has presented to itself of its powers of self-cajolement. A man systematically deceived, yet apparently sincerely regarded, and affectionately tended to the last by his betrayers, one of whom at least prided himself, and for the most part not unjustly, upon his fidelity to his friends. Hamilton, alone among the three, seems to have been single-minded—to have viewed their mutual relations to the end, not with cynical indifference, but with a simplicity of confidence hard to be understood in a man of his antecedents. It may have been, however, that he recognized the inevitable in the disparity of years and in his wife's early training, and that he chose to cover her failings with a self-abnegation that was not without nobility. Upon such a tacit affirmation he set a final seal in a codicil to his will, well calculated to silence those who saw scandal in the association between his wife and his friend. "The copy of Madam Le Brunn's picture of Emma, in enamel, by Bone, I give to my dearest friend Lord Nelson, Duke of Bronté, a very small token of the great regard I have for his Lordship, the most virtuous, loyal, and truly brave character I ever met with. God bless him, and shame fall on those who do not say amen."

Sir William's death, by withdrawing the husband's countenance to Nelson's remaining under the same roof, might have complicated matters for the two lovers, but the outbreak of war necessitated the admiral's departure a month later. When he returned to England for the last time, in August, 1805, he was, deservedly, the object of such widespread popular devotion, and his stay was so short, that the voice of censure was hushed amid the general murmur of affectionate admiration. The noble qualities of the man, the exalted spirit of self-sacrifice and heroic aspiration that breathed in his utterances, and was embodied, not only in his brilliant deeds, but in the obscure, patient endurance of the last two years, evoked a sentiment which spread over him and her a haze of tender sympathy that still survives. In the glory of Trafalgar, in his last touching commendation of her and his child to the British Government, in the general grief of the nation, there was justly no room to remember their fault; both acquaintance and strangers saw in her only the woman whom he loved to the end. The sisters of Nelson, women of mature years and irreproachable character, maintained a correspondence with Lady Hamilton during their lives; long after his death, and the departure of his influence, removed any interested motive for courting her friendship. Between them and Lady Nelson, on the other hand, the breach was final. Their occasional mention of her is unfriendly, and upon the whole contemptuous; while she, as far as can be judged from their letters, returned to them an equal measure of disdain.

CHAPTER XIX.
COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF IN THE MEDITERRANEAN.—THE LONG WATCH OFF TOULON.—OCCUPATIONS OF A COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF

MAY, 1803—JANUARY, 1805. AGE, 45-46

When Nelson, after a three years' absence, returned to the Mediterranean in 1803, he found the conditions, upon which the military balance of power there depended, greatly altered from those he had known during the period of his previous service. He had been present, indeed, almost an eye-witness, at the tremendous reverse associated with the name of Marengo, for that battle, it will be remembered, was fought while he was at Leghorn on his return to England; but Marengo, and the conventions following it, were at the moment only the beginning of an end which then could not be foreseen.

H.M. Ships "Agamemnon," "Captain," "Vanguard," "Elephant," and "Victory"

The most significant token of the entire change of conditions—of the predominant, far-reaching, and firmly fastened grip of France on the land—was the presence of an army corps of fifteen thousand men in the extreme southeast of Italy, occupying the Kingdom of Naples from the river Ofanto, on the Adriatic coast, round to the Bradano on the Gulf of Taranto, and including the useful ports of Brindisi and Taranto. This distant and ex-centric extension of the arms of the Republic bespoke Bonaparte's confidence in the solidity of his situation in the South of Europe; for under previous circumstances, even after his victorious campaign of 1796, he had always deprecated an occupation of Naples, and relied upon threats and a display of force to insure the quiescence of that state. That one of his first steps, upon the renewal of war with Great Britain, should have been to place a large body of troops in a position he once considered so exposed, shows the fulness of his conviction that upon the Continent he had, for the moment, nothing to fear from the other Great Powers. Strongly stirred as they had been by his highhanded aggressions, none as yet ventured to call him directly to account. Great Britain, the least immediately affected, had stepped into the lists, and demanded not only that aggression should cease, but that the state of the Continent should be restored as it existed when she signed the treaty of Amiens. With this requirement she maintained the war, single-handed, from May, 1803, to the autumn of 1805.

It was not without reason that Bonaparte reckoned upon the inaction of the Continent. Austria, although profoundly discontented by much he had done since the peace of Lunéville, in 1801, was too thoroughly disheartened and exhausted by the unsuccessful and protracted struggle which preceded it, to be ready to renew the strife. Limited as she now was, by the treaty, to the eastern bank of the Adige, there was in Northern Italy no force to threaten the French communications, between their divisions in the valley of the Po and the one at the heel of the peninsula. Prussia, playing a double part for years back, seeking from day to day the favor of the most powerful, was wholly committed for the time to the First Consul; while Russia, although her youthful sovereign had abandoned the anti-British policy of his predecessor, remained undecided as to the general course she should pursue amid the ever-shifting perplexities of the day. Less fantastic in imagination than his insane father, Alexander I. inherited a visionary tendency, which hindered practical action, and showed itself in plans too vast and complicated for realization, even when two rulers of the overwhelming power of himself and Napoleon, at a later date, set their hands to the task. Swayed, alternately, by sympathy with the ancient order of things, which Great Britain for the moment represented, and by prospects of Russian aggrandizement, which Bonaparte dangled before his eyes, the Czar halted between two opinions, pleasing himself, meanwhile, in weaving, with associates of his own age, schemes for a general reorganization of Europe. In these the interests of Russia naturally, and quite properly, had a leading part, and not least in those seas and regions that fell within the limits of Nelson's command.

The power of the great states which lay to the northward and eastward of him being thus neutralized, Bonaparte found upon the land nothing to oppose his will, or to contest his influence, in the smaller and weaker nations to the southward and westward, close to his own doors, but isolated from the rest of Europe, except by sea—a weighty exception. Spain, reduced to virtual vassalage in the previous war, no longer even pretended to dispute his orders. She was not engaged in the present hostilities, simply because it suited him better to take a money tribute from her, and to enjoy for French ships the benevolent neutrality of Spanish ports, more necessary to them than to the British. Moreover, if Spain joined in the war, Minorca, restored to her at the peace, would be at the mercy of Great Britain, and Port Mahon, the fine haven of that island, was always a menace to Toulon. The harbors of remote Portugal, where Lisbon formerly had given powerful support to the British fleet, were now closed to it for offensive operations; and Nelson, within whose command its seaboard lay, was strictly enjoined to refrain from any such use of them, even from sending in prizes, except under stress of weather. In Italy, Piedmont had been incorporated with France, while the Italian and Ligurian (Genoa) Republics in the North were so identified with her in action, and so submissive to her, that the capture of the latter's ships was at once ordered by Nelson; and he recommended to his Government that a formal blockade should be proclaimed of her ports, as well as of Leghorn, where the French flag was flown on the same staff as the Tuscan. The States of the Pope, intermediate between these tributaries of Bonaparte in the North and his garrisoned province in Naples, enjoyed only such precarious independence as he from day to day allowed. But, mighty as was the growth of French ascendency, as shown by these changes, the very advantages accruing to France from her advanced maritime positions laid her further open to the Sea Power of Great Britain. The neutrality of Genoa and Tuscany could no longer embarrass the British admiral, as it had Nelson in 1795 and 1796. Offensive operations against them were now merely a question of adequate force, and the South of France depended greatly upon free access to their ports. Taking Piedmont from the King of Sardinia, too, relieved any scruples the British might have concerning their use of the island of Sardinia injuring a friendly monarch, a consideration which kept them away from Sicily.

Nelson, instructed by the experience and observation of the recent past, and by a certain prescient sagacity which was at once native and cultivated in him, recognized that the Mediterranean, with its immense indented coast line, its positions of critical importance,—such as the Straits of Gibraltar and the Bosphorus, Egypt and Malta,—and its comparatively short water distances, was the field of operations to which the maritime ambitions of Bonaparte, debarred a wider flight by the sea-power of Great Britain, must inevitably incline. To this contributed also its remoteness from England, as well as its nearness to France and to the ports subject to her influence in Italy and Spain; while the traditional ambitions of French rulers, for three centuries back, had aspired to control in the Levant, and had regarded Turkey for that reason as a natural ally. It was, therefore, not merely as magnifying his own office, nor yet as the outcome of natural bias, resulting from long service in its waters, that Nelson saw in the Mediterranean the region at once for defence and offence against Bonaparte; where he might be most fatally checked, and where also he might be induced most surely to steps exhaustive to his strength. This conviction was, indeed, rather an instance of accurate intuition than of formulated reasoning. Clear, ample, and repeated, as are his demonstrations of the importance of the various positions at stake, and of the measures necessary to be taken, they rather apply to the necessities of the moment than indicate a wide scheme of policy, which should divert the energies of the enemy to the South of Europe, and so provide the best of defences against his projected invasion of England. Yet even of such broader view tokens are not wanting. "To say the truth," he writes to the Queen of Naples, "I do not believe we had in the last war, and, according to all appearance, we shall not have in the present one either, plans of a sufficiently grand scale to force France to keep within her proper limits. Small measures produce only small results. The intelligent mind of your Majesty will readily comprehend the great things which might be effected in the Mediterranean. On this side Buonaparte is the most vulnerable. It is from here that it would be the most easy to mortify his pride, and so far humble him, as to make him accept reasonable conditions of peace."

It cannot be claimed, however, that there entered into Nelson's thoughts, for Italy, any such diversion as that by which the Spanish Peninsular War some years later drained the life blood of France. The time, indeed, was not yet ripe, nor would the scene have been in any way as favorable to Great Britain; and, moreover, so far from being ready to threaten, her energies were effectually constrained to her own defence, by the superior audacity and direct threats of Bonaparte. Even the limited suggestions for the employment of troops in the Mediterranean, made by Nelson from time to time, failed to receive attention, and he himself was left to struggle on as best he might, with inadequate means and upon a bare defensive, even in naval matters. Great Britain, in short, had stripped herself, incautiously, so bare, and was so alarmed by the French demonstrations of invasion, that she for the moment could think only of the safety of her territory and of her home waters, and her offensive operations were confined to the sea.

Bonaparte understood as fully as Nelson the importance of the Mediterranean to him. His mind was set upon the extension of France's dominion therein,—in its islands, upon its northern and southern shores, and in the East; nor was he troubled with scruples as to the means by which that object might be attained. During the short peace of Amiens, Lord Keith had felt it necessary to take precautions against the re-occupation of Corfu by the French troops; and again at a later date had stationed a ship for the same purpose at the Madalena Islands, belonging to Sardinia, which Nelson afterwards made a rendezvous for his fleet. Algiers, too, had attracted the First Consul's attention. "Algiers will be French in one year after a peace," wrote Nelson in August, 1804. "You see it, and a man may run and read; that is the plan of Buonaparte." "The Ministers of the Dey must know, that an armament at Toulon, and a large army, after the peace with Great Britain, was intended to land and plunder Algiers, which they doubtless would have effected, had not a British fleet been placed in Oristan Bay [Sardinia] to watch their motions." These and similar reasons had led the British Government to maintain the Mediterranean Squadron nearly upon a war footing during the peace. But, if Bonaparte's purpose was fixed to control the Mediterranean some day, it now was set also upon the invasion of England; and although he looked and plotted in many directions, taking long views, and neglecting no opportunity to secure advanced footholds for future uses, he had not yet reached the stage in his development when he would divide his energies between two gigantic undertakings. One at a time, and with an accumulation of force abundantly adequate to the end in view, was his policy all the days of Nelson. The Mediterranean with its varied interests was to him at this time one of several means, by which he hoped to distract British counsels and to dissever British strength; but it was no part of his design to provoke Great Britain to measures which would convert her alarm for the Mediterranean peninsulas into open war with them, or in them, compelling France either to recede from thence, or to divert thither a force that might weaken his main effort. His aim was to keep anxiety keenly alive, and to cut short the resources of his enemy, by diplomatic pressure upon neutral states, up to the last extreme that could be borne without war against them being declared, as the lesser evil; and the nearer he could approach this delicate boundary line, without crossing it, the greater his success. "I do not think a Spanish war [that is, a declaration by Spain] so near," wrote Nelson in November, 1803. "We are more likely to go to war with Spain for her complaisance to the French; but the French can gain nothing, but be great losers, by forcing Spain to go to war with us; therefore, I never expect that the Spaniards will begin, unless Buonaparte is absolutely mad, as many say he is. I never can believe that he or his counsellors are such fools as to force Spain to begin."

The course instinctively advocated by Nelson, transpiring through occasional utterances, was directly contrary to Bonaparte's aims and would have marred his game. "We never wanted ten thousand troops more than at this moment," Nelson wrote shortly after he had reached the station and become acquainted with the state of affairs. "They might save Naples, Sicily, the Morea and Egypt, by assisting and giving confidence to the inhabitants." "It has been my plan to have 10,000 disposable troops in the Mediterranean," he wrote to Acton; and he regretted to the Ministry that they should have withdrawn all the fine army which had regained Egypt in 1801. "The sending them home," he remarked to an occasional correspondent, "was a very inconsiderate measure, to say nothing further of it." His idea was to garrison Gaeta and Naples on the coast of the mainland, and Messina in Sicily; and to throw a force into the mountains of Calabria, which should sustain and give cohesion to the insurrection that he confidently expected would follow. With the British fleet covering the approaches by water, and sustaining and reinforcing garrisons in the ports, there would be imposed upon the enemy, unless he chose to abandon Southern Italy, a scene of operations in a distant, difficult country, with a long and narrow line of communications, flanked throughout by the sea, and particularly by the two fortified harbors which he proposed to occupy. "The peasantry would, I believe, defend their mountains, and at least it would give a check to the movements of the French, and give us time to get a fleet into the Mediterranean." That the attempt would have been ultimately successful, against such power as Napoleon then wielded, cannot be affirmed; but, until put down, it necessarily would have engaged a force very disproportionate to its own numbers, drawing off in great part the army destined against England, as it was diverted two years later by Austria, and giving opportunity for changes in the political conditions, even to the formation of a new Coalition.

Nelson, therefore, was not far from right in reasoning that the Mediterranean should, and therefore would, be the chief scene of operations. In Bonaparte's eyes, to invade Britain was, justly, the greatest of all ends, the compassing of which would cause all the rest to fall. Nelson, weighing the difficulties of that enterprise more accurately than could be done by one unaccustomed to the sea, doubted the reality of the intention, and thought it more consonant to the true policy of France to seize control of the Mediterranean, by a sudden concentration of her fleets, and then to transport her troops by water to the heel of Italy, to the Ionian Islands, to the Morea, to Egypt. So stationed, with fortified stepping-stones rising at short intervals from the deep, future movements of troops and supplies from point to point would be but an affair of coasters, slipping from battery to battery, such as he had experienced to his cost in the Riviera. In this project he thought it likely that France could secure the co-operation of Russia, by allowing the latter her share of the spoils of Turkey, especially in Constantinople. He saw, indeed, that the partition would involve some difficulty between the two partners, and in his correspondence he attributes the Morea and the islands, now to one, now to the other; but the prediction, elicited piece-meal from his letters, received a close fulfilment four years later in the general tenor of the agreements of Tilsit, nor was it less accurate in its dim prophecy of a disagreement.

Such, in broad outline, were the prepossessions and views Nelson took with him from England in 1803, as modified by the information he received upon reaching the station; and such the counter-projects of Bonaparte, to whom belonged, as the privilege of the offensive, the choice of direction for his attack. The essential difference between the two was, that one believed the invasion of England, however difficult, to be possible, and therefore to be the true and first object of his efforts; while the other, without pronouncing that attempt impossible, saw its difficulties so clearly, that he conceived his enemy must be aiming for the Mediterranean from the beginning. It is permissible to remark that Bonaparte, after the failure of the invasion, first busied himself in reducing Austria, Prussia, and Russia, successively, to the state of inaction in which they were in 1803; next came to an understanding with the latter, such as Nelson had foreseen; and then turned to the Mediterranean, where he established his own rule in Naples, in the Ionian Islands, on the eastern shore of the Adriatic, and finally in the Spanish peninsula. Beyond that his advance was stayed by the Sea Power of Great Britain, which at last wrought his ruin. Thus in the event the predictions of the British admiral were postponed, but not falsified.

Nelson's characteristic impatience and energy hurried him on from the moment he took up his command. "I cannot sail before to-morrow," he said repeatedly in Portsmouth, "and that's an age." "If the Devil stands at the door," he tells St. Vincent, "we shall sail to-morrow forenoon." The Admiralty, in its primary anxiety about Brest, imposed upon him a delay under which he chafed angrily. He was directed to meet off that port the squadron of Admiral Cornwallis, in order that, if the latter wanted the "Victory," she might be left there, and an intimation was even given that he was "on no account to pass Admiral Cornwallis, so as to run any chance of his being deprived of the services of the Victory, if he should judge it necessary to detain her." Nelson resented the implication that he was capable of evading an order, like a frigate-captain parting company to better his chance of prize-money. "I beg to assure you that I hold it impossible for any officer, under such orders as their Lordships' to me, to designedly miss Admiral Cornwallis off Brest."

On the 22d of May he was off Ushant, between which and Cornwallis's rendezvous he passed twenty-four hours, fuming and fretting over a delay that was losing him a fresh, fair, northerly wind; the more so, that he was satisfied Cornwallis neither needed nor wanted the ship. "From his conduct,"—not being on his rendezvous,—"I am clear there can be nothing in Brest to demand his attention." On the 23d, however, he could stand it no longer. "What a wind we are losing!" "If the wisdom of my superiors had not prevented me," he growled, "at this moment I should have been off the coast of Portugal. I am aware of the importance of my getting to the Mediterranean, and think I might safely have been allowed to proceed in the Victory." At 6 P.M. of that day, Cornwallis not turning up, he tumbled himself and his suite on board the frigate "Amphion," which was in company, and continued his voyage, going out in all the discomfort of "a convict," to use St. Vincent's expression; "seven or eight sleeping in one cabin," as Nelson himself described it. "It is against my own judgment but in obedience to orders," he told the Earl; while to the Prime Minister, with whom he was in personal correspondence, he lamented the loss, "for I well know the weight of the Victory in the Mediterranean." As he anticipated, Cornwallis did not want the ship, and she joined Nelson two months afterwards off Toulon.

Late in the evening of June 3d, the "Amphion" anchored at Gibraltar, whither she brought the first certain news of the war, though it had been declared nearly three weeks before. The next day was actively employed in giving necessary instructions to the yard officials, and detailing cruisers to guard the entrance to the Straits, and to maintain the communications with the Barbary coast, upon which the Rock depended for supplies of fresh provisions. At 4 P.M. the ship again sailed for Malta, accompanied by the frigate "Maidstone," to which, on the 11th of June, was transferred, for direct passage to Naples by the north of Sicily, the new British minister to the Two Sicilies, Mr. Elliot, who had embarked with Nelson on board the "Victory," and afterwards gone with him to the "Amphion." Throughout the following two years an active correspondence, personal and diplomatic, was maintained with this gentleman, who, like his brother, Lord Minto, placed the utmost dependence upon the political sagacity and tact of the admiral. When the latter, a year later, spoke of leaving the station on account of his health, Elliot wrote to him: "Where such great interests are concerned, I shall not presume to dwell upon my own feelings, although I cannot but recall to your Lordship that I only consented to depart as abruptly as I did from England, to undertake this arduous and ruinous mission, from the expectation that my efforts to direct the councils of this Kingdom would have been seconded by your pre-eminent talents and judgment." After the two frigates parted, the "Amphion" kept on to Malta, where she arrived on the 15th of June.

With the separation of the "Maidstone" Nelson began the extensive diplomatic correspondence, which employed so much of his time during this command, and through which we are made familiar with the workings of his mind on the general political conditions of the Mediterranean. She carried from him letters to the King and Queen of the Sicilies, to their Prime Minister, Acton, and to the British minister to the Court of Sardinia. To these succeeded, upon his arrival in Malta,—as a better point of departure for the farther East, now that the French held the west coast of the Adriatic,—despatches to the British minister to the Porte, to the Grand Vizier and the Capitan Pacha, to the Republic of the Seven Islands, as the group of Corfu and its sisters was now styled, and to the British representative to their government.

All these communications were, of course, tentative, based upon a yet imperfect knowledge of conditions. For the most part they conveyed, besides the notification of his having taken the command, chiefly general assurances of the good-will of the writer's government, and an undefined intimation that all had best be on their guard against French scheming and aggressions. To Naples he spoke more definitely, and indicated at once the considerations that would dictate his course, and, he intimated, should control theirs also. He had been instructed, he said, to consider the welfare of the Two Sicilies as one of the first of British objects, and his Government was convinced of the advantages that would accrue both to Sicily and Naples, if their neutrality could be maintained. They had to do, however, with an enemy that was not only powerful, but wily and unscrupulous; one whose action would be governed wholly by considerations of interest and expediency, not by those of right. Great Britain could not, probably, keep the French out of Naples, but she could out of Sicily, provided, and only provided, Messina was adequately garrisoned and held. If, however, there was any hasty overt action taken, looking to the security of Sicily, it might merely precipitate the seizure of Naples and the entire conquest of the King's continental dominions; or, "ten times more humiliating," leave him "an odious commissary to raise contributions from his unhappy subjects for the French." On the other hand, if, to avert suspicion, there was too much slackness in the measures to guard Sicily, Messina might be suddenly seized, the gates of the island thus thrown open, and, Sicily once lost, "Naples falls of course." "It is a most important point," he wrote to Elliot soon after, "to decide when Sicily ought to be placed in a state of security. For the present, I am content to say that Messina need not be taken possession of; but the strictest watch must be kept by Sir John Acton that we are not lulled into a fatal security, and thus lose both Kingdoms. To save for the moment Naples, we risk the two Kingdoms, and General Acton must join me in this heavy responsibility." "My whole opinion rests in these few words—that we must not risk Sicily too far in trying to save Naples; therefore, General Acton, yourself and myself must keep a good lookout."