the name of the Deity, violated them.

The Duke of Thunder was proud of the Sicilian meaning of his title,
and so were his sailors, who loved the thrilling effect of anything
that conveyed the idea of being associated with a formidable power
that devastated every other force that stood in its way. For the most
part, Nelson's sailors had great faith in his naval genius. He had led
them many times to victory, and they did not forget the glory that
attached to themselves. He planned the strategy, but it was they that
fought and won the battles. The Duke of Thunder was a fine title to
fight under. A name has frequently done more damage to a foe than
glittering bayonets. But Nelson in no degree had the thunder element
in him, so far as we are able to judge by the descriptions given to us
of him. He was a dashing, courageous, scientific genius, gifted with
natural instincts, disciplinary wisdom, deplorable sentimentality, and
an artificial, revengeful spirit of hatred that probably became real
under the arbitrary circumstances of war, but, I should say, was
rarely prominent. His roaming attacks on the French were probably used
more for effect, and had, we hope, only a superficial meaning. But be
that as it may, it detracts from the dignity of an officer occupying,
as he did, a distinguished position to use language and phrases such
as are common in the forecastle or on the quarterdeck of a sailing
merchantman in the early days before the introduction of steamers.
Here are a few quite amusing outbursts which do not produce the
impression of coming from a person known to fame as the Duke of
Thunder:--On the 1st October, 1801, the preliminaries of peace with
France were signed. When Nelson heard of it he thanked God, and went
on to say, "We lay down our arms, and are ready to take them up again
if the French are insolent." He declares there is no one in the world
more desirous of peace than he is, but that he would "burst sooner
than let any damned Frenchman know it." But it was too much for his
anti-French sentiments when he heard that their Ambassador's carriage
had been dragged by the London mob. He wrote to his medical man, and
asked if he could cure madness, for he had gone mad to learn "that our
damned scoundrels dragged a Frenchman's carriage." And he hoped
nevermore to be dragged by such a degenerate crowd; which was
exhibiting in a characteristic way his high opinion of himself. "Would
our ancestors have done it?" he a