“Before sunset,” wrote an eye-witness on board the “Belleisle,” “all firing had ceased.  The view of the fleet at this period was highly interesting, and would have formed a beautiful subject for a painter.  Just under the setting rays were five or six dismantled prizes; on one hand lay the Victory with part of our fleet and prizes, and on the left hand the Royal Sovereign and a similar cluster of ships.  To the northward, the remnant of the combined fleets was making for Cadiz.  The Achille, with the tricoloured ensign still displayed, had burnt to the water’s edge about a mile from us, and our tenders and boats were using every effort to save the brave fellows who had so gloriously defended her; but only two hundred and fifty were rescued, and she blew up with a tremendous explosion.”

There, surrounded by the companions of his triumph, and by the trophies of his prowess, we leave our hero with his glory.  Sharer of our mortal weakness, he has bequeathed to us a type of single-minded self-devotion that can never perish.  As his funeral anthem proclaimed, while a nation mourned, “His body is buried in peace, but his Name liveth for evermore.”  Wars may cease, but the need for heroism shall not depart from the earth, while man remains man and evil exists to be redressed.  Wherever danger has to be faced or duty to be done, at cost to self, men will draw inspiration from the name and deeds of Nelson.

Happy he who lives to finish all his task.  The words, “I have done my duty,” sealed the closed book of Nelson’s story with a truth broader and deeper than he himself could suspect.  His duty was done, and its fruit perfected.  Other men have died in the hour of victory, but for no other has victory so singular and so signal graced the fulfilment and ending of a great life’s work.  “Finis coronat opus” has of no man been more true than of Nelson.  There were, indeed, consequences momentous and stupendous yet to flow from the decisive supremacy of Great Britain’s sea-power, the establishment of which, beyond all question or competition, was Nelson’s great achievement; but his part was done when Trafalgar was fought.  The coincidence of his death with the moment of completed success has impressed upon that superb battle a stamp of finality, an immortality of fame, which even its own grandeur scarcely could have insured.  He needed, and he left, no successor.  To use again St. Vincent’s words, “There is but one Nelson.”

FOOTNOTES: 

[132] The name Thompson was spelled by Nelson indifferently with or without the “p”, which, as Nicolas observes, confirms the belief that it was fictitious.  The fact is singular; for, from a chance remark of his, it appears that he meant it to be Thomson. (Morrison, Letter No. 569.)

[133] The author is indebted for this anecdote to Mr. Edgar Goble, of Fareham, Hants, whose father, Thomas Goble, then secretary to Captain Hardy, was present at the table.