reason he asks to be relieved. Here is an example of his moods. "I am
much obliged to your Lordships' compliance with my requests," he says,
"which is absolutely necessary from the present state of my health,"
and almost immediately after he tells a friend he "will never quit his
post when the French fleet are at sea as a commander-in-chief once
did." "I would sooner die at my post than have such a stigma upon my
memory." This is a nasty dig at Lord St. Vincent, presumably for
having a hand in the appointment of Sir John Orde. Then he writes to
Elliot that nothing has kept him at his post but the fear of the
French fleet escaping and getting to Naples or Sicily. "Nothing but
gratitude for the good sovereigns would have induced him to stay a
moment after Sir John Orde's extraordinary command, for his general
conduct towards them is not such as he had a right to expect." I have
heard that snobbishness prevails in the service now only in a less
triumphant degree to what it did in Nelson's time. If that be the
case, it ought to be wrestled with until every vestige of the ugly
thing is strangled. The letters of Nelson to personal friends, to the
Admiralty, and in his reported conversations, are all full of
resentment at the viciousness of it, though he obviously struggles to
curb the vehemence of his feelings. No one felt the dagger of the
reticent stabber more quickly and sensitively than he. Invisible
though the libeller might be, Nelson knew he was there. He could not
hear the voice, but he felt the sinister action.

Making full allowance for what might be put down to imagination, there
is still an abundance of material to justify the belief that the first
naval authority of his time was the target of snobs, and that, but for
his strong personality and the fact that he was always ready to fight
them in the open, he would have been superseded, and a gallant duffer
might have taken his place, to the detriment of our imperial