is own words, which
he had endured since the middle of June, she attended and nursed him.
"Lady Hamilton," he exclaimed to Lady Nelson, with enthusiasm
undiscriminating in more ways than one, "is one of the very best women
in this world; she is an honour to her sex." A week later he tells
her, with an odd collocation of persons: "My pride is being your
husband, the son of my dear father, and in having Sir William and Lady
Hamilton for my friends. While these approve my conduct, I shall not
feel or regard the envy of thousands." The matter was passing rapidly
into the platonic stage, in which Sir William was also erelong
assigned an appropriate, if not wholly flattering, position. "What can
I say of hers and Sir William's attention to me? They are in fact,
with the exception of you and my good father, the dearest friends I
have in this world. I live as Sir William's son in the house, and my
glory is as dear to them as their own; in short, I am under such
obligations as I can never repay but with my eternal gratitude."
"Naples is a dangerous place," he sagely tells Lord St. Vincent, "and
we must keep clear of it. I am writing opposite Lady Hamilton,
therefore you will not be surprised at the glorious jumble of this
letter. Were your Lordship in my place, I much doubt if you could
write so well; our hearts and our hands must be all in a flutter."
Matters progressed; within ten days the veteran seaman learned, among
other concerns of more or less official importance, that "Lady
Hamilton is an Angel. She has honoured me by being my ambassadress to
the queen: therefore she has my implicit confidence and is worthy of
it."

That such intimacy and such relations resulted in no influence upon
the admiral's public action is not to be believed. That he consciously
perverted his views is improbable, but that he saw duty under other
than normal lights is not only probable, but evident. His whole
emotional nature was stirred as it never had been. Incipient love and
universal admiration had created in him a tone of mind, and brought to
birth feelings, which he had, seemingly, scarcely known. "I cannot
write a stiff formal public letter," he tells St. Vincent effusively.
"You must make one or both so. I feel you are my friend, and my heart
yearns to you." Such extravagance of expression and relaxation of
official tone has no pertinent cause, and is at least noteworthy. The
Court, or rather the Queen through Lady Hamilton, took possessi