peril and its greatest glory. Magnificent,
magniloquent, turbulent, it is starred with glowing phrases as thickly
as with glowing deeds. "Fear! I never saw fear: what is it?" "A
peerage, or Westminster Abbey;" the immortal signal; the famous saying
off Copenhagen: "It is warm work; this day will be the last to many of
us, but I would not be elsewhere for thousands;" the pathos of the
dying lover: "Let my dear Lady Hamilton have my hair;" and the pride of
the dying hero: "Thank God, I have done my duty"--all these things are
the splendid ornaments of a splendid career; they gleam on his story as
his stars and orders gleamed upon his breast when the "Victory" renewed
her name. With the battle of Trafalgar and the destruction of the
allied French and Spanish fleets Napoleon's dream of England's conquest
came to an end. The result was bought at a great price, the price of
Nelson's life. But Nelson had done his work, and done it well. He
saved his country; he had deserved well of his countrymen; he summed in
himself all the qualities that made the English sailor the idol of his
people and the terror of his foes.

While Nelson still lived and conquered, there came a check to the
troubled supremacy of Pitt. In 1801--when the memories of the battle
of the Nile and the defence of Acre were still fresh in men's thoughts,
and Napoleon had been for a year First Consul--Pitt, baffled by
circumstances, surrendered to mediocrity and Addington was Prime
Minister in his place. For three disastrous years Addington was
permitted to prove his incompetency, till in 1804 Pitt, as the only
possible man, came back to power to face a Napoleon more menacing than
ever, a Napoleon now, in that same year, crowned and triumphant as
{338} Emperor of the French. England was Mistress of the Seas, but
Napoleon was Master of Europe. Pitt's health was fading swiftly; he
watched with despair the progress of his enemy. Ulm came, and
Austerlitz, and Austerlitz struck Pitt at the heart.

The closing hours of Pitt's career were as troubled and as gloomy as
its dawn had been radiant and serene. It may have cost him little to
be reconciled with the pompous mediocrity of Addington, and thereby to
placate the King. His nature could afford to be magnanimous to the
ungrateful incompetency that was able only in betrayal. It need not
have given a pang to that proud and lonely spirit to welcome into the
Cabinet the Earl of Buckinghamshire, who had wed