e of the
bravest of the brave for an agony unrivalled in the story of the sea.

[Sidenote: 1758-1805--Nelson]

The British admirals are the heroes of the dying eighteenth century.
"Admirals all, they said their say, the echoes are rising still"--in
the words of Henry Newbolt's gallant song. "Admirals all, they went
their way to the haven under the hill." Dundonald was called, and
finely called, the last of the sea-kings; but they were all true
kinsmen of the Vikings, the admirals who were famous figures in
Dundonald's fiery youth and famous memories in Dundonald's noble age.
And as the admirals were, so were the captains, so were the men.
Fearney sticking the surrendered swords in a sheaf under his arm;
Walton calmly informing his superior that "we have taken or destroyed
all the Spanish ships on this coast: number as per margin," are typical
figures in a tradition of a courage so superlative that Admiral Sir
Robert Calder, who fought very gallantly and took two ships, was tried
by court-martial and severely reprimanded for not having destroyed the
French fleet. The age of George the Third would be memorable, if it
were memorable for nothing else, for the deeds and the glories of the
great sea fights and the great sea fighters who saved England from
invasion, knocking the tall ships of France to pieces, taking monstrous
odds with alacrity, eager to engage in all weathers and under all
conditions, cheerfully converting what seemed an impossible task into
not merely a feasible but an easy piece of business. There are some
sea battles of that time, fought out in storm and darkness, which read
in the tamest statement with the pomp and beauty of the most majestic
music. The names of the great admirals must always be dear to English
ears, must always sound sweet on English lips. St. Vincent,
Collingwood, Howe, Duncan, the noble list proceeds, each name
illuminated with its only splendid story of desperate enterprise and
deathless honor, till the proudest name of all is reached, {337} and
praise itself seems to falter and fall off before the lonely grandeur
of Nelson. Never was a little life filled with greater achievements;
never was a little body more compact of the virtues that make great
captains and brave men. The life that began in the September of 1758
and that ended in the October of 1805 holds in the compass of its
forty-seven years the epitome of what England meant for Englishmen in
the days of its greatest