“His Lordship had lost his right eye by a contusion which he received at the siege of Calvi, in the island of Corsica.  The vision of the other was likewise considerably impaired:  he always therefore wore a green shade over his forehead, to defend this eye from the effect of strong light; but as he was in the habit of looking much through a glass while on deck, there is little doubt that had he lived a few years longer, and continued at sea, he would have lost his sight totally."[68]

The business hours of the day from seven to two were spent by Nelson largely with his secretaries.  We know from Colonel Stewart that in the Baltic, where his command was more numerous than in the Mediterranean, his habit was to get through the ordinary business of the squadron before eight o’clock; for the rest, the greater part of the detail work would fall upon the Captain of the Fleet, then Rear-Admiral George Murray, who would require only general instructions and little interference for carrying on the laborious internal administration of the fleet.  The admiral’s energies were sufficiently taxed in considering and meeting, so far as his resources would permit, the numerous and complicated demands for external services in the different quarters of his wide command—­the ingenious effort to induce two and two to make five, in which so much of the puzzle of life consists.  His position necessarily involved extensive diplomatic relations.  Each British Minister around the shores of the Mediterranean had his own particular care; the British admiral was in confidential communication with all, and in every movement had to consider the consequences, both of what he did and of what he left undone.  It was a day when force ruled, and all the nations of Europe, whether they wished or not, had to put their chief trust in the sword, and in those who bore it.  Not the least of Nelson’s qualifications for his post was that he possessed intimate knowledge and experience of political conditions in the Mediterranean, knew the peoples and the rulers well, and to great sagacity and sound judgment added a temper at once firm and conciliatory.  “He had in a great degree,” said a contemporary who knew him well,[69] “the valuable but rare quality of conciliating the most opposite tempers, and forwarding the public service with unanimity amongst men not of themselves disposed to accord;” and although the remark referred primarily to his conduct in the naval service, it will readily be seen that this aptitude is nowhere more useful than in the tangled maze of conflicting national interests.  “My line of conduct,” he wrote to Hobart, a year after taking his command, “in obedience to the spirit of his Majesty’s instructions communicated through your Lordship, has been simply this,—­to conciliate all, to protect all from French rapacity.  I have been honoured with your letter of January 7th, and it has given me most sincere pleasure that my whole conduct in my command here has been such as to meet his Majesty’s approbation.”  The new Ministry, upon assuming office, requested him in the most flattering terms to continue his direct correspondence on political subjects with them, as with their predecessors.