was the centre of all that was corrupt and brutal.  Napoleon, on the other hand, had no real hatred of the British people, but during his wars with their government his avowed opinion was that “all the ills, and all the scourges that afflict mankind, came from London.”  Both were wrong in their conclusions.  They simply did not understand each other’s point of view in the great upheaval that was disturbing the world.  The British were not only jealous and afraid of Napoleon’s genius and amazing rise to eminence—­which they attributed to his inordinate ambition to establish himself as the dominating factor in the affairs of the universe—­but they determined that his power should not only not be acknowledged, but destroyed, and their policy after twenty years of bitter war was completely accomplished.

The merits or demerits of British policy must always remain a matter of controversy.  It is too big a question to deal with here.  Napoleon said himself that “Everything in the life of man is subject to calculation; the good and evil must be equally balanced.”  Other true sayings of his indicate that he, at any rate, was a student of human life, and knew how fickle fortune is under certain conditions.  “Reprisals,” he declared, “are but a sad resource”; and again, no doubt dwelling on his own misfortunes, but with vivid truth all the same, he declares that “The allies gained by victory will turn against you upon the bare whisper of our defeat.”

III

After his victory on the Nile, Nelson fully expected to be created a Viscount, and his claim was well supported by Hood, his old Admiral.  He was made Baron Nelson of the Nile, and given a pension of L2,000 per annum—­a poor recompense for the great service he had rendered to his country.  But that was by no means the measure of the public gratitude.  He was acclaimed from every corner of Great Britain as the national hero.  The City of London presented him with a two hundred guinea sword, and a vote of thanks to himself, officers and men.  There was much prayer and thanksgiving, and several women went as daft as brushes over him.  One said her heart was absolutely bursting with all sorts of sensations.  “I am half mad,” says she, and any one who reads the letter will conclude that she understated her mental condition.  But of all the many letters received by Nelson none surpasses in extravagance of adulation that written by Amy Lyon, the daughter of a village blacksmith, born at Great Neston in Cheshire, in 1761, who had come to London in the early part of 1780, fallen into evil ways and given birth to a little girl.  She was then left destitute and sank as low as it is possible for a woman to do.  She rose out of the depths into which she had fallen by appearing as the Goddess of Health in the exhibition of a James Graham.  Sir Henry Featherstonehaugh took her under his protection for close on twelve months, but owing to her extravagance and faithlessness he turned