part of a
great plan of invasion, could never be the only one, and he did not
think it was a command for a vice-admiral. It was not that he wanted
a more lucrative situation; for, seriously indisposed as he was, and
low-spirited from private considerations, he did not know, if the
Mediterranean were vacant, that he should be equal to undertake it. He
was offended with the Admiralty for refusing him leave to go to town
when he had solicited: in reply to a friendly letter from Troubridge he
says, "I am at this moment as firmly of opinion as ever, that Lord St.
Vincent and yourself should have allowed of my coming to town for my own
affairs, for every one knows I left it without a thought for myself."
His letters at this time breathe an angry feeling toward Troubridge, who
was now become, he said, one of his lords and masters. "I have a letter
from him," he says, "recommending me to wear flannel shirts. Does he
care for me? NO: but never mind. They shall work hard to get me
again. The cold has settled in my bowels. I wish the Admiralty had my
complaint: but they have no bowels, at least for me. I daresay Master
Troubridge is grown fat; I know I am grown lean with my complaint,
which, but for their indifference about my health, could never have
happened; or, at least, I should have got well long ago in a warm room
with a good fire and sincere friend." In the same tone of bitterness
he complained that he was not able to promote those whom he thought
deserving. "Troubridge," he says, "has so completely prevented my ever
mentioning anybody's service, that I am become a cipher, and he has
gained a victory over Nelson's spirit. I am kept here, for what?--he may
be able to tell, I cannot. But long it cannot, shall not be." An end
was put to this uncomfortable state of mind when, fortunately (on that
account) for him, as well as happily for the nation, the peace of Amiens
was just at this time signed. Nelson rejoiced that the experiment was
made, but was well aware that it was an experiment. He saw what he
called the misery of peace, unless the utmost vigilance and prudence
were exerted; and he expressed, in bitter terms, his proper indignation
at the manner in which the mob of London welcomed the French general
who brought the ratification saying, "that they made him ashamed of his
country."
He had purchased a house and estate at Merton, in Surrey, meaning to
pass his days there in the society of Sir William and Lady Hamilton
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