was gradually rising to the appreciation of its own might, and gathering together its energies to endure single-handed the gigantic strife, with a spirit unequalled in its past history, glorious as that had often been.  From 1796 began the rapid ascent to that short noontide of unparalleled brilliancy, in which Nelson’s fame outshone all others, and which may be said to have begun with the Spanish declaration of war, succeeded though that was by the retreat in apparent discomfiture from the Mediterranean, now at hand.

The approach of this extraordinary outburst of maritime vigor is aptly foretokened in the complete change, gradual yet rapid, that passed over Nelson’s opinions, from the time when rumors of a Spanish war first assumed probability, up to the moment when the fact became tangible by the appearance of the Spanish fleet in the waters of Corsica.  Accentuated thus in a man of singular perceptions and heroic instincts, it further affords an interesting illustration of the manner in which a combative race—­for Nelson was through and through a child of his people—­however at first averse to war, from motives of well-understood interest, gradually warms to the idea, and finally grows even to welcome the fierce joy which warriors feel, as the clash of arms draws near.  “If all the states of Italy make peace,” he writes on the 20th of May, “we have nothing to look to but Corsica; which in the present state of the inhabitants, is not, in my opinion, an object to keep us in the Mediterranean:  we shall, I hope, quit it, and employ our fleet more to our advantage.”  “Reports here,” on the 20th of June, “are full of a Spanish war.  If that should be the case, we shall probably draw towards Gibraltar and receive large reinforcements.”

On the 15th of August, however, he writes to Jervis, betraying the incipient revulsion, as yet not realized, against abandoning the Mediterranean, which was already affecting the current of his thoughts.  “I hope we shall have settled Leghorn before the Dons, if they intend it, arrive.  I have still my doubts as to a Spanish war; and if there should be one, with your management I have no fears.  Should the Dons come, I shall then hope I may be spared,[39] in my own person, to help to make you at least a Viscount.”  A few days later, having meantime heard of Wurmser’s disasters at Castiglione:  “Austria, I suppose, must make peace, and we shall, as usual, be left to fight it out:  however, at the worst, we only give up Corsica, an acquisition which I believe we cannot keep, and our fleet will draw down the Mediterranean;” but at the same time, August 19, he writes to the Duke of Clarence with glowing hopes and rising pride:  “I hope Government will not be alarmed for our safety—­I mean more than is proper.  Under such a commander-in-chief as Sir John Jervis nobody has any fears.  We are now twenty-two sail of the line; the combined fleet will not be above thirty-five sail of the line.  I will venture my