ion to Nelson that he had received an anonymous letter, containing
"severe reproaches for my conduct to you, which is such, it seems, as
will totally separate us."[58] There is no record that he permitted
himself to use direct expostulation, and it seems equally clear that
he would not, by any implication, manifest approval or acquiescence.
It has been said, indeed, but only upon the authority of Lady
Hamilton, that it was his intention to take up his residence entirely
at Merton, with the admiral and the Hamiltons; an act which would have
given express countenance to the existing arrangements, and disavowed,
more strongly than any words, the bearing imputed to him by the
anonymous letter. In whose interest would such a letter most likely be
penned? Nelson mourned him sincerely, but was prevented by illness
from being present at the funeral. He is a man known to us only by his
letters, which are marked by none of the originality that
distinguishes the professional utterances of the admiral, and cannot
be said to rise much above the commonplace; but they show a strong
and unaffected piety, and particularly a cheerful, resolute,
acceptance of the infirmities of protracted old age, which possesses
charm and inspires respect. There is also a clear indication of the
firmness that characterized Nelson himself, in the determination, amid
all the feebleness of age, and notwithstanding his pride and love for
his famous son, upon whom, too, he was partially dependent, that he
would not join in the general abandonment of the wife by the husband's
family. His attitude in this regard, as far as can be inferred from
his letters, commands sympathy and admiration.

A year later, on the 6th of April, 1803, Sir William Hamilton also
died, "in Lady Hamilton's and my arms," wrote Nelson, "without a sigh
or a struggle. The world never lost a more upright and accomplished
gentleman." Lady Hamilton, with ready tears, recorded: "Unhappy day
for the forlorn Emma. Ten minutes past ten dear blessed Sir William
left me." The grouping of figures and emotions at that death-bed was
odd almost beyond comprehension; one of the most singular studies
which human nature has presented to itself of its powers of
self-cajolement. A man systematically deceived, yet apparently
sincerely regarded, and affectionately tended to the last by his
betrayers, one of whom at least prided himself, and for the most part
not unjustly, upon his fidelity to his friends. Ham