During his absence, the uncertain deferment of his desires had worked together with the perverse indolence of Sir Hyde Parker, the fretting sight of opportunities wasted, the constant chafing against the curb, to keep both body and mind in perpetual unrest, to which the severe climate contributed by undermining his health.  This unceasing discomfort had given enhanced charm to his caressing dreams of reposeful happiness, soothed and stimulated by the companionship which he so far had found to fulfil all his power of admiration, and all his demands for sympathy.  Released at last, he landed in England confidently expecting to realize his hopes, only to find that they must again be postponed.  Reputation such as his bears its own penalty.  There was no other man in whose name England could find the calm certainty of safety, which popular apprehension demanded in the new emergency, that had arisen while he was upholding her cause in the northern seas.  Nelson repined, but he submitted.  Within four weeks his flag was flying again, and himself immersed in professional anxieties.

War on the continent of Europe had ceased definitively with the treaty of Luneville, between France and Austria, signed February 9, 1801.  Over four years were to elapse before it should recommence.  But, as Great Britain was to be the first to take up arms again to resist the encroachments of Bonaparte, so now she was the last to consent to peace, eager as her people were to have it.  Malta had fallen, the Armed Neutrality of the North had dissolved, the French occupation of Egypt was at its last gasp.  Foiled in these three directions by the sea-power of Great Britain, unable, with all his manipulation of the prostrate continent, to inflict a deadly wound, Bonaparte now resorted to the threat of invasion, well aware that, under existing conditions, it could be but a threat, yet hoping that its influence upon a people accustomed to sleep securely might further his designs.  But, though the enchanter wove his spells to rouse the demon of fear, their one effect was to bring up once more, over against him, the defiant form of his arch-subverter.  Both the Prime Minister, Addington, and the First Lord of the Admiralty assured Nelson that his presence in charge of the dispositions for defence, and that only, could quiet the public mind.  “I have seen Lord St. Vincent,” he wrote the former, “and submit to your and his partiality.  Whilst my health will allow, I can only say, that every exertion of mine shall be used to merit the continuance of your esteem.”  St. Vincent, writing to him a fortnight later, avowed frankly the weight attached to his very name by both friend and foe.  “Our negotiation is drawing near its close, and must terminate one way or another in a few days, and, I need not add, how very important it is that the enemy should know that you are constantly opposed to him.”