and the Victory ran on board the Redoubtable, just as her tiller ropes were shot away. The French ship received her with a broadside, then instantly let down her lowerdeck ports for fear of being boarded through them, and never afterwards fired a great gun during the action. Her tops, like those of all the enemy's ships, were filled with riflemen. Nelson never placed musketry in his tops; he had a strong dislike to the practice, not merely because it endangers setting fire to the sails, but also because it is a murderous sort of warfare, by which individuals may suffer, and a commander now and then be picked off, but which never can decide the fate of a general engagement.

Captain Harvey, in the Téméraire, fell on board the Redoubtable on the other side; another enemy was in like manner on board the Téméraire; so that these four ships formed as compact a tier as if they had been moored together, their heads all lying the same way. The lieutenants of the Victory, seeing this, depressed their guns of the middle and lower decks, and fired with a diminished charge, lest the shot should pass through and injure the Téméraire; and because there was danger that the Redoubtable might take fire from the lowerdeck guns, the muzzles of which touched her side when they were run out, the fireman of each gun stood ready with a bucket of water, which, as soon as the gun was discharged, he dashed into the hole made by the shot. An incessant fire was kept up from the Victory from both sides; her larboard guns playing upon the Bucentaure and the huge Santissima Trinidad.

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It had been part of Nelson's prayer that the British fleet might be distinguished by humanity in the victory which he expected. Setting an example himself, he twice gave orders to cease firing upon the Redoubtable, supposing that she had struck, because her great guns were silent; for, as she carried no flag, there was no means of instantly ascertaining the fact. From this ship, which he had thus twice spared, he received his death. A ball fired from her mizzen-top, 50 which, in the then situation of the two vessels, was not more than fifteen yards from that part of the deck where he was standing, struck the epaulette on his left shoulder,-about a quarter after one, just in the heat of the action. He fell upon his face, on the spot which was covered with his poor secretary's blood. Hardy, who was a few steps from him, turning round,

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saw three men raising him up. "They have done for me at last, Hardy," said he. "I hope not!" cried Hardy. "Yes," he replied; "my back bone is shot through." Yet even now, not for a moment losing his presence of mind, he observed, as they were carrying him down the ladder, that the tiller ropes, which had been shot away, were not yet replaced, and ordered that new ones should be rove immediately:then, that he might not be seen by the crew, he took out his handkerchief, and covered his face and his stars.-Had he but concealed these badges of honor from the enemy, England, perhaps, would not have had cause to receive with sorrow the news of the battle of Trafalgar.

The cockpit was crowded with wounded and dying men, over whose bodies he was with some difficulty conveyed, and laid upon a pallet in the midshipmen's berth. It was soon perceived, upon examination, that the wound was mortal. This, however, was concealed from all, except Captain Hardy, the chaplain, and the medical attendants. He himself being certain, from the sensation in his back, and the gush of blood which he felt momently within his breast, that no human care could avail him, insisted that the surgeon should leave him, and attend to those to whom he might be useful; "for," said he, "you can do nothing for me." All that could be done was to fan him with paper, and frequently to give him lemonade to alleviate his intense thirst. He was in great pain, and expressed much anxiety for the event of the action, which now began to declare itself. As often as a ship struck, the crew of the Victory hurraed, and at every hurra a visible expression of joy gleamed in the eyes and marked the countenance of the dying hero. But he became impatient to see Captain Hardy; and as that officer, though often sent for, could not leave the deck, Nelson feared that some fatal cause prevented him, and repeatedly cried: "Will no one bring Hardy to me? He must be killed! He is surely dead!" An hour and ten minutes elapsed from the time when Nelson received his wound before Hardy could come to him. They shook hands in silence; Hardy in vain struggling to suppress the feelings of that most painful and yet sublimest moment. "Well, Hardy," said Nelson, "how goes the day with us?"-"Very well," replied Hardy, "ten ships have struck, but five of the van have tacked, and show an intention to bear down upon the Victory. I have

66

called two or three of our fresh ships round, and have no doubt of giving them a drubbing."-"I hope," said Nelson, "none of our ships have struck?" Hardy answered, There was no fear of that. 6 Then, and not till then, Nelson spoke of himself. "I am a dead man, Hardy," said he; "I am going fast; it will be all over with me soon. Come nearer to me. Let my dear Lady Hamilton have my hair and all other things belonging to me. Hardy observed that he hoped Mr. Beatty could yet hold out some prospect of life. "Oh no!" he replied, "it is impossible; my back is shot through. Beatty will tell 15 you so. Captain Hardy then once more shook hands with him, and with a heart almost bursting hastened upon deck.

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By this time all feeling below the breast was gone; and Nelson, having made the 20 surgeon ascertain this, said to him: "You know I am gone. I know it. I feel something rising in my breast"-putting his hand on his left side-"which tells me so, And upon Beatty's inquiring whether his 25 pain was very great, he replied, "So great that he wished he was dead. Yet," said he in a lower voice, one would like to live a little longer too!" And after a few minutes, in the same under-tone, he added: 30 "What would become of poor Lady Hamilton if she knew my situation?" Next to his country she occupied his thoughts. Captain Hardy, some fifty minutes after he had left the cockpit, returned, and again taking the hand of his dying friend and Commander, congratulated him on having gained a complete victory. How many of the enemy were taken he did not know, as it was impossible to perceive them dis- 40 tinctly, but fourteen or fifteen at least. "That's well!" cried Nelson, "but I bargained for twenty." And then in a stronger voice he said: Anchor, Hardy, anchor. Hardy upon this hinted that Admiral Col- 45 lingwood would take upon himself the direction of affairs. "Not while I live, Hardy," said the dying Nelson, ineffectually endeavoring to raise himself from the bed. "Do you anchor." His previous order for preparing to anchor had shown how clearly he foresaw the necessity of this. Presently, calling Hardy back, he said to him, in a low voice, "Don't throw me overboard"; and he desired that he might be buried by his parents, unless it should please the king to order otherwise. Then, reverting to private feelings: "Take care of my dear Lady Hamilton, Hardy; take care

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of poor Lady Hamilton.- Kiss me, Hardy,' said he. Hardy knelt down, and kissed his cheek and Nelson said, "Now I am satisfied. Thank God, I have done my duty." Hardy stood over him in silence for a moment or two, then knelt again, and kissed his forehead. "Who is that?" said Nelson; and being informed, he replied, "God bless you, Hardy." And Hardy then left him-forever.

Nelson now desired to be turned upon his right side, and said: "I wish I had not left the deck; for I shall soon be gone. Death was, indeed, rapidly approaching. He said to the chaplain: "Doctor, I have not been a great sinner'; and, after a short pause, "Remember that I leave Lady Hamilton, and my daughter, Horatia, as a legacy to my country.' His articulation now became difficult; but he was distinctly heard to say, "Thank God, I have done my duty!" These words he had repeatedly pronounced; and they were the last words he uttered. He expired at thirty minutes after four,-three hours and a quarter after he had received his wound.

Once, amidst his sufferings, Nelson had expressed a wish that he were dead; but immediately the spirit subdued the pains of death, and he wished to live a little longer; doubtless that he might hear the completion of the victory which he had seen so gloriously begun. That consolation

that joy-that triumph, was afforded him. He lived to know that the victory was decisive; and the last guns which were fired at the flying enemy were heard a minute or two before he expired.

A

It is almost superfluous to add that all the honors which a grateful country could bestow were heaped upon the memory of Nelson. His brother was made an earl, with a grant of £6,000 per year; £10,000 were voted to each of his sisters; and £100,000 for the purchase of an estate. public funeral was decreed, and a public monument. Statues and monuments also were voted by most of our principal cities. The leaden coffin, in which he was brought home, was cut in pieces, which were distributed as relics of Saint Nelson,-so the gunner of the Victory called them,-and when, at his internment, his flag was about to be lowered into the grave, the sailors who assisted at the ceremony, with one accord rent it in pieces, that each might preserve a fragment while he lived.

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The death of Nelson was felt in England as something more than a public calamity: men started at the intelligence, and turned pale, as if they had heard of the loss of a dear friend. An object of our admiration and affection, of our pride and of our hopes, was suddenly taken from us; and it seemed as if we had never, till then, known how deeply we loved and reverenced him. What the country had lost in its great naval hero-the greatest of our own, and of all former times-was scarcely taken into the account of grief. So perfectly, indeed, had he performed his part, that the maritime war, after the battle of Trafalgar, was considered at an end; the fleets of the enemy were not merely defeated, but destroyed; new navies must be built, and a new race of seamen reared for them, before the possibility of their invading our 20 shores could again be contemplated. It was not, therefore, from any selfish reflection upon the magnitude of our loss that we mourned for him: the general sorrow was of a higher character. The people of England grieved that funeral ceremonies, public monuments, and posthumous rewards, were all which they could now bestow upon him, whom the king, the legislature, and the nation, would alike have delighted to honor; whom every tongue would have blessed; whose presence in every village through which he might have passed would have wakened the church bells, have given school-boys a holiday, have drawn' children from their sports to gaze upon him, and "old men from the chimney corner, to look upon Nelson ere they died. The victory of Trafalgar was celebrated, indeed, with the usual forms of rejoicing, but they were without joy; for such already was the glory of the British navy, through Nelson's surpassing genius, that it scarcely seemed to receive any addition from the most signal victory that ever was achieved upon the seas; and the destruction of this mighty fleet, by which all the maritime schemes of France were totally frustrated, hardly appeared to add to our security or strength; for while Nelson was living, to watch the combined squadrons of the enemy, we felt ourselves as secure as now, when they were no longer in existence.

There was reason to suppose, from the appearances upon opening the body, that in the course of nature he might have attained, like his father, to a good old age.

1 Sidney, The Defense of Poesy, 23, 27 (Ath. Press ed.).

Yet he cannot be said to have fallen prematurely whose work was done, nor ought he to be lamented who died so full of honors and at the height of human fame. The most triumphant death is that of the martyr; the most awful that of the martyred patriot; the most splendid that of the hero in the hour of victory; and if the chariot and the horses of fire had been vouchsafed for Nelson's translation, he could scarcely have departed in a brighter blaze of glory. He has left us, not indeed his mantle of inspiration, but a name and an example which are at this hour inspiring thousands of the youth of England-a name which is our pride, and an example which will continue to be our shield and our strength. Thus it is that the spirits of the great and the wise continue to live and to act after them, verifying in this sense the language of the old mythologist:

Τοί μεν δαίμονες εἰσί, Διός μεγάλου διὰ βουλὰς Εσθλοὶ, ἐπιχθόνιοι, φύλακες θνητῶν ἀνθρώπων.3

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What potent spirit guides the raptured eye

To pierce the shades of dim futurity? Can Wisdom lend, with all her heavenly power,

The pledge of Joy's anticipated hour? Ah, no! she darkly sees the fate of man20 Her dim horizon bounded to a span; Or, if she hold an image to the view, "Tis Nature pictured too severely true. With thee, sweet Hope! resides the heavenly light,

That pours remotest rapture on the sight: 25 Thine is the charm of life's bewilder'd way,

That calls each slumbering passion into play.

Waked by thy touch, I see the sister band, On tiptoe watching, start at thy command,

And fly where'er thy mandate bids them steer,

30 To Pleasure's path or Glory's bright

And asks the image back that Heaven
bestow'd!

Fierce in his eye the fire of valor burns,
And, as the slave departs, the man returns.
Oh! sacred Truth! thy triumph ceased
a while,

350 And Hope, thy sister, ceased with thee to smile,

When leagued Oppression1 pour'd to
Northern wars

Her whiskered pandoors and her fierce
hussars,2

Waved her dread standard to the breeze of morn,

Peal'd her loud drum, and twang'd her trumpet horn;

355 Tumultuous horror brooded o'er her van,

Presaging wrath to Poland-and to man! Warsaw's last champions from her height survey'd,

Wide o'er the fields, a waste of ruin laid,"Oh! Heaven!" he cried, "my bleeding country save!

360 Is there no hand on high to shield the brave?

again;

All, all forsook the friendless, guilty mind, 40 But Hope, the charmer, linger'd still behind.1

Where barbarous hordes on Scythian mountains roam,

340 Truth, Mercy, Freedom, yet shall find a home;

Where'er degraded Nature bleeds and pines,

From Guinea's coast to Sibir's dreary mines,

Truth shall pervade th' unfathom'd darkness there,

And light the dreadful features of Despair.

345 Hark! the stern captive spurns his heavy load,

1 See the story of Pandora, from whose box all the blessings but hope escaped; also the story of the Iron Age, in which the vices took possession of the earth after the virtues had departed.

Yet, though destruction sweep those lovely plains,

Rise, fellow-men! our country yet remains!

By that dread name, we wave the sword on high!

And swear for her to live!-with her to die!'

He said, and on the rampart-heights array'd

His trusty warriors, few, but undismay'd; Firm-paced and slow, a horrid front they form,

Still as the breeze, but dreadful as the storm;

Low murmuring sounds along their banners fly,

70 Revenge, or death, -the watchword and reply:

Then peal'd the notes, omnipotent to

charm,

And the loud tocsin toll'd their last alarm!

In vain, alas! in vain, ye gallant few! From rank to rank your volley'd thunder flew :-

375 Oh, bloodiest picture in the book of Time,

1 In 1792 and 1794 when Russia, Prussia, and Austria united in wars for the partition of Poland.

2 The pandoors were members of a regiment in the Austrian army, noted for its courage and cruelty. The hussars were light cavalrymen. Thaddeus Kosciusko: he was defeated and taken prisoner, Oct. 10, 1794.