wrought excellence,—­even though that were the purely subjective creation of his own enthusiasm.  This hold Lady Nelson never gained; and the long absence from 1793 to 1797, during the opening period of the war of the French Revolution, probably did to death an affection which owed what languid life it retained chiefly to propinquity and custom.  Both Saumarez and Codrington, who served under him, speak passingly of the lightness with which his family ties sat upon Nelson in the years following his short stay at home in 1797.  The house was empty, swept, and garnished, when the simple-minded, if lion-hearted, seaman came under the spell of one whose fascinations had overpowered the resistance of a cool-headed man of the world, leading him in his old age, with open eyes, to do what every prepossession and every reasonable conviction of his life condemned as folly.

In the summer of 1786 Sir Richard Hughes was recalled to England.  During the later part of his association with Nelson, the strain which had characterized their earlier relations had not only disappeared, but had been succeeded by feelings approaching cordiality.  The Government’s approval of his subordinate’s action, and of himself as credited with supporting it, had removed that element of apprehension which in timid men induces irritation; and Hughes, who, though irresolute, was naturally kindly, had been still farther placated by the prize-money falling to him from the vessels condemned through the zeal of Nelson.  The latter, who never harbored malice, easily forgave the past, and responded to this change of tone.  “I have been upon the best terms with the Admiral,” he wrote from Barbadoes to his intended wife in April, 1786, “and I declare I think I could ever remain so.  He is always remarkably kind and civil to every one;” and again, a few days earlier, “The admiral is highly pleased with my conduct here, as you will believe, by sending me such fine lines with a white hat.  I well know I am not of abilities to deserve what he has said of me:  but I take it as they are meant, to show his regard for me; and his politeness and attention to me are great:  nor shall I forget it.  I like the man, although not all his acts.”  He then directs that the lines shall not be shown to any one, “as the compliment is paid to me at the expense of the officers of the squadron,” an injunction thoroughly characteristic of the man’s kindly consideration for others.  It was creditable to Hughes that, after being so braved, and his instructions set at naught, by his junior, he had candor enough to see and acknowledge his merit; but the fact still remained that in the hour of trial he had failed Nelson, nor did the latter, though he forgave, forget it.  As he wrote to Locker in September, 1786, after the admiral’s departure, “Instead of being supported by my admiral, I was obliged to keep him up, for he was frightened at this business;” of which business he truly said, emphasizing, but not at all exaggerating, the gravity of the responsibility he had taken in defiance of his superior:  “After loss of health and risk of fortune, another is thanked for what I did against his orders. Either I deserved to be sent out of the service,[15] or at least to have had some little notice taken of me.”