“Exalted,” he wrote, not “augmented.”  And therein his feeling and his pen captured the very truth.  Other men there were ready and able to add to the treasure of victories the British navy has given to the nation.  It was the lot of Lord Nelson to exalt all this glory.  Exalt! the word seems to be created for the man.

XLVII.

The British navy may well have ceased to count its victories.  It is rich beyond the wildest dreams of success and fame.  It may well, rather, on a culminating day of its history, cast about for the memory of some reverses to appease the jealous fates which attend the prosperity and triumphs of a nation.  It holds, indeed, the heaviest inheritance that has ever been entrusted to the courage and fidelity of armed men.

It is too great for mere pride.  It should make the seamen of to-day humble in the secret of their hearts, and indomitable in their unspoken resolution.  In all the records of history there has never been a time when a victorious fortune has been so faithful to men making war upon the sea.  And it must be confessed that on their part they knew how to be faithful to their victorious fortune.  They were exalted.  They were always watching for her smile; night or day, fair weather or foul, they waited for her slightest sign with the offering of their stout hearts in their hands.  And for the inspiration of this high constancy they were indebted to Lord Nelson alone.  Whatever earthly affection he abandoned or grasped, the great Admiral was always, before all, beyond all, a lover of Fame.  He loved her jealously, with an inextinguishable ardour and an insatiable desire—­he loved her with a masterful devotion and an infinite trustfulness.  In the plenitude of his passion he was an exacting lover.  And she never betrayed the greatness of his trust!  She attended him to the end of his life, and he died pressing her last gift (nineteen prizes) to his heart.  “Anchor, Hardy—­anchor!” was as much the cry of an ardent lover as of a consummate seaman.  Thus he would hug to his breast the last gift of Fame.

It was this ardour which made him great.  He was a flaming example to the wooers of glorious fortune.  There have been great officers before—­Lord Hood, for instance, whom he himself regarded as the greatest sea officer England ever had.  A long succession of great commanders opened the sea to the vast range of Nelson’s genius.  His time had come; and, after the great sea officers, the great naval tradition passed into the keeping of a great man.  Not the least glory of the navy is that it understood Nelson.  Lord Hood trusted him.  Admiral Keith told him:  “We can’t spare you either as Captain or Admiral.”  Earl St. Vincent put into his hands, untrammelled by orders, a division of his fleet, and Sir Hyde Parker gave him two more ships at Copenhagen than he had asked for.  So much for the chiefs; the rest of the