An officer holding a rank qualifying
him for command at the outset of a great war might well have looked
forward confidently to exceptional opportunities of distinguishing
himself. Even in our own days, when some trifling campaign is
about to be carried on, the officers who are employed where they
can take no part in it vehemently lament their ill-fortune. How
much more disheartening must it have been to be excluded from
active participation in a great and long-continued conflict! This
was Nelson's case. As far as his hopes of gaining distinction
were concerned, fate seemed to persecute him pertinaciously. He
was a captain of more than four years' seniority when the treaty
of Versailles put an end to the war of American Independence. Yet,
with the exception of the brief Nicaragua expedition--which by
the side of the important occurrences of grand naval campaigns
must have seemed insignificant--his services during all those
years of hostilities were uneventful, and even humdrum. He seemed
to miss every important operation; and when the war ended--we may
almost say--he had never seen a ship fire a broadside in anger.
There then came what promised to be, and in fact turned out to
be, a long period of peace. With no distinguished war service
to point to, and with the prospect before him of only uneventful
employment, or no employment afloat at all, Nelson might well
have been disheartened to the verge of despondency.
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