Memoirs of Emma, lady Hamilton, the friend of Lord Nelson and the court of Naples; (21 page)

1 On April 21, 1/95, fc> r example, the Queen sends three papers " confidentially," " which may be useful to your husband." Cf. Professor Laughton's article in Colburn's United Service Magazine, April, 1889, and for the famous letter of April 28, cf. also Eg. MS. 1615, f. 22, containing another example. It is needless to multiply instances. One citation only will illustrate Emma's initiative. In Hamilton's despatch of April 30, 1795, he says, " However, Lady Hamilton having had the honour of seeing the Queen yesterday morning, H.M. was pleased to promise me one, etc." In another of the following year he speaks of documents being " communicated " to him " as usual."

2 Cf. Emma's copy of the Queen's note forwarding it to her, Eg. MS. 1615, f. 22, and Emma's reference to the courier and her having "got into politicks," April 19. Morrison MS. 263. On June 9 she copied another despatch from presumably Gala-tone (Prince Belmonte), ibid. 265. Later in the year the Queen communicated information about Spain and. in another letter, rumours about Hood having got out of Toulon, Eg. MS. 1617, ff. 3, 4-

secret de Polichinelle, is likely from the scarcity of references to it in the Acton correspondence with Hamilton about this time. Nor is it any answer to Emma's activities, even in this and less material years, that she voiced the Queen's urgent interest, because it is abundantly manifest that the Queen, in her need, did for Emma what she would never have done for Hamilton apart, while in return Emma doubtless communicated also Nelson's Mediterranean information to Maria Carolina. She had suddenly become a safe and trusted go-between, and none other at this juncture could have performed her office. The supine Sir William had at last been pricked into action. He had now every incentive to earn the King of England's gratitude. In a private missive to Lord Grenville of April 30, 1795, alluding to the communication of this very " cipher of Galatone," he himself asserts, " Your Lordship will have seen by my despatch of 2ist April the unbounded confidence which the Queen of Naples has placed in me and my wife." Emma could now advantage not only herself and her country, but her royal friend and her own husband— Tria juncta in uno.

But the position in the later summer of 1796 was far more serious both for Naples and England than it had ever been before. Acton had been dallying. During the interval Ferdinand seems to have been pelted with letters from Charles, menacing, cajoling, persuading him. Already in August Hamilton had communicated secrets respecting the movements of the French and Spanish squadrons. Every one knew that Spanish retirement from the European Coalition was soon to be succeeded by some sort of league; but nobody, either at Naples or in England, could ascertain its exact conditions revealed to Ferdinand alone. If it was to be (as it was) an alliance of offence, the is-

sues must prove momentous for Great Britain. All was kept a profound secret.

About September, 1796, apparently, Charles the Fourth's final letter reached the hands of his Neapolitan brother. But his coming alliance with France had already been notified by Acton to Hamilton. The murder was out. The compact between the two courts was fixed as one of war to the knife against the allied powers, among whom England was wavering and Austria on the verge of concluding a scandalous peace. Ferdinand, who alone knew what was impending, must have chuckled as he thought how he had worsted his masterful spouse. If Emma could only clear up the mystery and the uncertainty, England might be forearmed against the veiled sequel of that long train of hidden pourparlers which she had been able to discover and announce during the previous year; and in such a case she counted with assurance on her country's gratitude towards her and her husband.

How the Queen or Emma, or both, obtained the loan of this document, whether out of the King's pocket, as Emma avers in her Prince Regent's memorial, and Pettigrew, with embellishments, in his Life of Nelson; or whether, according to the posthumous Memoirs of Lady Hamilton, through a bribed page, does not concern us. Such strokes of the theatre are, at any rate, quite consonant with the atmosphere of the court. The sole question is: Did she manage to receive and transmit it?

The letter to which I apply her pretensions was in Spanish—a " private letter " or a " letter," as Emma and Nelson respectively describe it, and not a " letter in cipher " like the one received from Galatone in the year preceding. The problem's intricacy defies a real solution. In the main, habit and motive only can be urged for Emma's use of the Queen's friendship in

this instance also. What she had done in the one year, she may well have done in the other. On the other hand, there is no definite document that she can be proved to have procured.

Is there any distinct circumstance in her favour to counterweigh the hypotheses against her? One such exists of some weight. It relates to her statement that a messenger of her own was despatched with the document to London.

Sir William Hamilton gave wind of the critical news in a " secret " despatch to Lord Grenville. It is dated September 21, 1796; and the bearer of it seems to have started on the 23rd. It should be observed that this official missive appears exceptional in only transmitting the purport of the letter, and not, as repeatedly before and afterwards, either copies of hazardous documents, or, in earlier cases, the originals themselves.

On this very September 2ist the Queen of Naples wrote to thank Emma for putting at her service the unexpected medium of " the poor Count of Munster's courier," available through his employer's misfortune. She says that she and the General will profit by the opportunity, and that Emma shall receive " our packet" the day after to-morrow (mid-day, Friday). Acton, once more addressing Hamilton on September 22, and before this special courier had started, begged him to include both his and the Queen's despatches to Circello, Ambassador at St. James's, " by the courier which goes to-morrow for London."

On this identical September 21, 1796, once again Lady Hamilton herself sat down for a hurried chat with Greville. " We have not time," she says, " to write to you, as we have been 3 days and nights writing to send by this courrier letters of consequence for our Government. They ought to be grate full to Sir Will-

iam and myself in particular, as my situation in this Court is very extraordinary, and what no person [h]as yet arrived at." She adds, " He is our Courrier."

The coincidence of these combined statements of two successive days suggests the " poor Count of Mun-ster's " courier as the possible bearer both of official despatches and of any copy of the King of Spain's most crucial declaration, that Emma may have made.

It is only fair to state that another contingency presents itself. Emma's service may really have amounted to little more than having been the means of procuring a prompt courier for this urgent despatch. If, however, she also got the original document, or even a copy, forwarded, Hamilton's omission to include it in his despatch is explained. In any case it is material. He may have feared to do so, or she may not have been allowed to retain it long enough, in which case Emma could truthfully describe his brief summary of its pith as the King of Spain's letter.

Professor Laughton has urged with force' that no Treasury minute relating to Emma's service is to be found. But must it be assumed that the bare absence of such record is fatal to her case? It might further be urged that no copy of this particular King of Spain's letter exists in our archives. But has every important document mentioned in the despatches of this period invariably come to light?

That the Spanish letter may have arrived about a month earlier than the date of the despatch, and that Acton also may have gleaned its contents, appears from the close similarity between Acton's two letters to Hamilton of August 18 and 21, and the spirit of Hamilton's short summary in his communication of September 21 to Lord Grenville. Hamilton wrote that the King of Naples was " bitterly reproached for acting constantly in opposition to his brother's advice," and

was warned that Charles would " soon be obliged to take another course with him." Acton wrote of the King's " odd and open threatenings to his brother," and in his first letter that Spain had " certainly signed a treaty of alliance with the French," and was to " join with them even against us. We are assured of this by threatenings even not equivocal."

Mr. Jeaffreson has further dwelt on the unlikelihood of such a sum as Emma names being spent on retaining the messenger out of her private purse, when her allowance was limited to £200 a year. But this allowance seems to have been only nominal. From the Morrison Collection it would appear that for some time she had been authorised by her husband to overdraw her account in view of increasing requirements. Then there are the minutiae about their health in 1795 and 1796 to show that the former year better fits her claim. These would seem indecisive, considering his constant ailments. But a strange confirmation of her story remains in the fact of a locket given by Nelson to Emma in 1796, and recording the date. Such a present from one who had never seen her since 1793 may well betoken a real service. Everything, it must be conceded, remains inconclusive. All rests on circumstantial evidence merely, but apart from the problems of 1796, it will be owned that she succeeded in serving England during 1795.

During the following month of October, Emma is still to be found transcribing documents and endorsing effusive gratitude on one of the Queen's letters. She had exerted herself, even if she exaggerates her exertions. It is perfectly possible, of course, that her memory, in confusing the events of these two years, may have also confused the date of her husband's illness. But that her story, stripped of accidentals, is a myth, I cannot bring myself to believe. Even Lord

Grenville, thirteen years later, did not apparently specify fabrication as his reason for rejecting her claims. That during her future she proved often and otherwise blameworthy, that her distant past had been soiled, are scarcely reasons for discrediting the substance of her story, though her efforts passed unheeded by the Government; nor should Greville's repeated acknowledgments of her natural candour be forgotten. To every motive for political exertion had now been added immense opportunity. There is ample reason why she should have used it for her country's advantage. She was no dabbler. She had wished to play a big part, and she was playing it. She had every qualification for acquitting herself well in the arena where she longed to shine, and promptitude alone could ensure success.

Gloom deepened with the opening of the year 1797, but it riveted the Neapolitan House faster to England. The many French immigrants exulted. The pro-Spanish party and all the Anglophobes became confident. Austria had ignobly desisted, and her ministers were rewarded by diamonds from the Pope. Great Britain —hesitating though she seemed—remained the sole champion against Buonaparte. Lord St. Vincent's name and Nelson's rang throughout Europe on the " glorious Valentine's day," and Emma infused fresh hope in the downcast Queen. She delighted to vaunt England's sinew and backbone. She prevented Hamilton from relaxing his efforts, and kept him at his post of honour. She was already ambitious for Nelson. Maria Carolina at last divined that Buonaparte's objective was the Mediterranean. But Nelson had divined the aims of France earlier, when he wrote in October, 1796, "We are all preparing to leave the Mediterranean, a measure which I cannot approve.

They at home do not know what this fleet is capable of performing; anything and everything." But Downing Street, in the person of the narrow-sighted Lord Grenville, still closed its eyes, shut its ears, and hardened its heart. At Rome the French republicans organised an uprising, and were driven for shelter into Joseph Buonaparte's Palazzo Corsini. He himself was threatened, and Duphot was killed, by the Papal guard. Eugene Beauharnais made a sortie of vengeance. Napoleon utilised the manoeuvre to despatch General Berthier against the Pope's dominions. By the February of the ensuing year the Castle of St. Angelo was taken. On Ascension Day the Pope himself, in the Forum, heard the shouts of " Viva la Republica; abasso il Papa! " He did what other weak pontiffs have done before and since. He protested his " divine right," took his stand on it—and fled. Ousted from Sienna by earthquake, he retired to the Florentine Certosa, where his rooms fronting that beautiful prospect may still be viewed. Hounded out once more, he was harried from pillar to post—from Tortona to Turin, from Briangon to Valence—in the citadel of which, old and distressed, he breathed his last.

At home Maria Carolina now reversed her policy of the knout. Vanni, the brutal Inquisitor of State, was deposed and banished, the diplomatic Castelcicala was given a free hand. All the captives were released. The Lazzaroni cheered till they were hoarse over the magnanimity of their rulers.

And Acton, relieved from the burdens of bureaucracy, at last pressed Great Britain for a Mediterranean squadron. He and the Queen had both determined that their forced neutrality should be of short duration.

If we would appreciate Emma's influence for England at Naples, the tone of his correspondence at this date should be compared with his indifference during

the earlier portion of the preceding year. The Mediterranean expedition which Nelson was to lead to such decisive triumph was far more the fruit of Neapolitan importunities than of English foresight.

Buonaparte had boasted that he would republicanise the Two Sicilies also. No sooner was Acton apprised of the fact than he immediately invited Sir Gilbert Elliot, who happened to be visiting Naples, to meet him and the Hamiltons. He again murmured against Lord Grenville's finesse. He assured Sir Gilbert that his country had strained every sinew " to move and engage seventeen million Italians to defend themselves, their property, and their honour "; all had been vain for lack of extraneous assistance; even their fleet had laboured to no purpose; in his quaint English, their " head-shiprfian had lost his head, if ever he had any." The case was now desperate. All hinged on a sufficient Mediterranean squadron. " Any English man-of-war, to the number of four at a time," could still be provisioned in Sicilian or Neapolitan ports. Their compelled compact with France allowed no more. And at a moment when the French were disquieting Naples by insurgent fugitives from the Romagna and elsewhere, Napoleon's smooth speeches were, said Acton, mere dissimulation. A " change of masters " might soon ensue. By the April of 1798 Acton was still more explicit in his correspondence with Hamilton. A fresh incursion was now definitely menaced. Naples was being blackmailed. The Parisian Directors offered her immunity, but only if she would pay them an exorbitant sum; otherwise*she must be absorbed in the constellation of republics, while her monarch must join the debris of falling stars. Viennese support was little more than a forlorn hope for ravaged Italy. In the King's name he implored Hamilton to forward an English privateer to announce their desperate plight