_Keep this to yourself_, unless you hear too much
said in praise of others.

"J.J."

The national wrath was poured on Sir Hugh Palliser, Keppel's second in
command, whose tardiness in obeying signals was charged as the cause
of the French escape; so strong had already become the national
assurance that a British fleet could go forth only to victory. But the
succession of courts-martial cleared up nothing except the characters
of the two admirals. Palliser was enabled to show that his ship had
suffered so much from the enemy's fire as to be at least (plausibly)
unfit for close action, and the whole dispute on land closed, like the
naval conflict, in a drawn battle. Jervis was the chief witness for
Keppel, as serving next his ship; and his testimony was of the highest
order to the gallantry, skill, and perseverance of the admiral. But
Palliser was acknowledged to be brave; and it is evident from Jervis's
personal opinion, that when it was once the object of the enemy's
commander to get away, it was next to impossible to have prevented his
escape.

But these were trying times for the British navy: it was scarcely
acquainted with its own strength; the nation, disgusted with the
nature of the American war, refused its sympathy; without that
sympathy ministers could do nothing effectual, and never can do any
thing effectual. The character of the cabinet was feebleness, the
spirit of the metropolis was faction; the king, though one of the best
of men, was singularly unpopular; and the war became a system of
feeble defence against arrogant and increasing hostilities. France,
powerful as she was, became more powerful by the national
exultation--the frenzied rejoicing in the success of American
revolt--and the revived hope of European supremacy in a nation which
had been broken down since the days of Marlborough; a crush which had
been felt in every sinew of France for a hundred angry years. Spain,
always strong, but unable to use her strength, had now given it in to
the training of discipline; and the combined fleets presented a
display of force, which, in the haughty language of the Tuileries, was
formed to sweep the seas.

The threat was put in rapid and unexpected execution. The combined
fleet moved up the Channel; and to the surprise, the sorrow, and the
indignation of England, the British fleet, under Sir Charles Hardy,
was seen making, what could only be called "a dignified retreat." The
Foudroyant, on that melanchol