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