Memoirs of Emma, lady Hamilton, the friend of Lord Nelson and the court of Naples; (42 page)

From Yarmouth, after a brief spell of final preparation, Nelson sailed for the double feat of annihilating the Northern Confederation single-handed, and negotiating with a mastery both of men and management the truce that preceded the Peace of Amiens. Copenhagen was now the key of the situation, as it was to prove six years later, when Canning saved Europe from the ruin of Austerlitz and the ignominy of Tilsit by that secret expedition which would have gladdened Nelson, had he been alive. As victor and peacemaker he was now to stand forth supreme. ' Time is our best ally," he wrote to Lord St. Vincent a few days later, when the wind caused a week's delay in the start of the refitted ships. " I hope we shall not give her up, as all our allies have given us up. Our 1 Nelson's stepson Josiah Nisbet.

friend here is a little nervous about dark nights and fields of ice, but we must brace up; these are not times for nervous systems. I want peace, which is only to be had through, I trust, our still invincible navy "; and, just before sailing, he made a declaration to Berry that no Briton should ever forget:—". . . As to the plan for pointing a gun truer than we do at present, if the person comes, I shall of course look at it, and be happy, if necessary, to use it. But I hope that we shall be able, as usual, to get so close to our enemies, that our shots cannot miss their object, and that we shall again give our northern enemies that hailstorm of bullets which is so emphatically described in the Naval Chronicle, and which gives our dear country the dominion of the seas. We have it, and all the devils in, hell cannot take it from us, if our wooden walls have fair play." On the verge of battle he indited three lines meant for Emma's eyes alone: " He has no fear of death but parting from you."

Emma resumed her disconsolate epistles both to him and, until her return, to Mrs. William Nelson. The first can only be inferred from his most vehement answers, while of the second a few scraps may find appropriate place.

With a single exception she had withheld nothing from Nelson; their communion was unreserved. But of " Emma Carew," that " orphan," now a girl of nineteen, for whom she was still caring, who was soon to be put under the alternate charge of Mrs. Denis and of Mrs. Connor, and who was frequently to see her undisclosed mother at Merton, she seems to have kept silence. On the first day of March Nelson addressed to the " friend of his bosom " that most remarkable letter opening " Now, my own dear wife," which has become so hackneyed. He at last found a full vent for his feelings, for Oliver was the bearer of the paper.

There was nothing, he said, that he would not do for them to live together, and to have their dear little child with them. He firmly believed that the imminent campaign would ensure peace, and then—who knew?— they might cross the water and live in avowed partnership at Bronte. He wanted to see his wife no more, but until he could quit the country with Emma (and before that possibility England must be safeguarded), there could be no open union. After ensuring a " glorious issue," he would return with " a little more fame " for his Emma, proud of him and their country. " I never did love any one else," he continues; " I never had a dear pledge of love till you gave me one, and you, thank my God, never gave one to anybody else. . . . You, my beloved Emma, and my country are the two dearest objects of my fond heart, a heart susceptible and true. Only place confidence in me and you never shall be disappointed." He is now convinced of his dominion over her. He protests in the most passionate phrases his longing and his constancy. He is hers all, only, and always. " My heart, body, and mind l is in perfect union of love towards my own dear beloved "—his matchless, his flawless Emma.

Yet a living proof of flaw lurked in oblivion. We have heard Emma in 1798 sighing over her married childlessness. Horatia, Nelson's Horatia, was at length hers. Horatia's name and influence tinge his every tone; he even writes to the babe-in-arms, the child of his own heart. As Horatia's mother, Emma seems holy in his eyes. Every letter that he kisses before he sends it, is sealed with her head; each of hers with " Nelson " and " The Nile," with his glori-

1 It is worthy of notice that he omits " soul." In a much later letter to her he says that his being is hers entirely, but that his " soul " is his Creator's.

ous emblem— " Honor est a Nilo." Was it now possible, at this longed-for moment, to reveal the dark error of her day's clouded opening? She had been but seventeen when that other daughter, watched, be-friended, but never acknowledged, had been born. The foundling's disavowal had been wholly the work and craft of Greville, once so " good," so " tender " to her and the offspring that he snatched away from her girl's embrace. Was this the moment, she might well plead with the Pharisees, for withdrawing the veil that hid Horatia's half-sister from Nelson? She remained a " Protestant of the flesh"—a born pagan. As pagan she would be true in trial. She would do her duty as she knew it, and act her double part of nurse and wife. She would be generous and warm-hearted. But such surrender!—Was it in human, in feminine nature? Had she been the born " saint " of Nelson's canonisation, she would have done so now. Pale and weeping, she would have humbled herself and placed that daughter by her side as some token of atonement. How the scribes of the long robe, like Greville, would have sneered, how Hamilton would have smiled! And Hamilton's name—poor, fading Hamilton's—must surely have struck some chord in her better self. Who was she, w r hat manner of man was Nelson, to make or exact such sacrifice! Although Sir William's own recent weakness had endangered her, and belittled him before Nelson, they still esteemed him—formed to--gether, indeed, his right hand. And yet, whether Greville and he had guessed the truth or not, to him they were half traitors—an ugly word for an ugly fact; for what had Caracciolo been but a traitor! This was a moment when self-illusions might have vanished, and Nelson's Roman virtue might have listened to the stern rebuke to David—" Thou art the man." Yet, contrasted with the lax crew of Carlton

House and many at St. James's, Nelson and she were all but virtuous, virtuous sinners. Would her sin, then, ever find her out ? Was this the time to bare her conscience to the world ?

And during that brief London visit they had surely both seen the child, as they must have often done in the two succeeding years. Their visits suggest a striking picture,—the spare, weather-beaten man in the plain black suit, with the firm yet morbid mouth; the beautiful woman longing to call aloud to her baby; the little, homely room; Nurse Gibson with her housekeeper air, furtively wondering why the great Lord Nelson and the Ambassador's lady were so much concerned in this work-a-day world, with the mysterious child of " Mr. and Mrs. Thomson."

The very day that Emma received Nelson's confession of faith in her, she took up her pen once more to his sister-in-law:—

" My dearest friend, anxiety and heart-bleedings for your dear brother's departure has made me so ill, I have not been able to write. I cannot eat or sleep. Oh, may God prosper and bless him. He has wrote to Lord Eldon for Mr. Nelson. You will have him at Yarmouth in two days. Oh, how I envy you! Oh God, how happy you are! . . . My spirits and health is bad endeed. . . . Tom Tit is at Brighton. She did not come, nor did he go. Jove, for such he is—quite a Jove—knows better than that. Morrice means to go to Yarmouth. The Cub dined with us, but I never asked how Tom Tit was. . . . How I long to see you; do try and come, for God's sake do." And a like burden pervades the notes of days following: she is " so very low-spirited and ill " since " the best and greatest man alive went away." She has " no spirit to do anything." She prays Mrs. Nelson of her charity to come. They can then " walk and talk, and be so

happy together." She can hear " all the news of my Hero." She has bought Charlotte presents, and will take them to her. The King is better, and Tom Tit is in the country. She sends every message to " little Horatio." She had been ill all night, and cannot even take the morning air. For the second time, " Calypso ne pouvait se consoler du depart d'Ulysse."

Nelson had asked, Emma had hoped, that she and Sir William (for Nelson would never see her without her husband) might run down to Yarmouth, and bid him and the St. George farewell. But " his eternally obliged " Sir William (possibly warned by Greville) declined with civil thanks. He was dedicating every moment to art. Some of his choicest vases, to his great joy, had turned up from the wreck. Pending the dubious bounty of the Government, he was preparing to sell these and his pictures by auction. Among the latter were three portraits of his wife. Nelson was furious at Emma being thus for the second time " on sale." He bought the St. Cecilia, as has been recounted earlier, for £300, and enshrined it as a true " saint " in his cabin: had it cost " 300 drops of blood," he would " have given it with pleasure." And almost up to the date of departure, renewed uneasiness about the loose set that Sir William now encouraged harassed him. Should she ever find herself in extremities, she must summon him back, and he would fly to her deliverance. It was at this moment that in once more revising his will, he bequeathed to her a diamond star.

It is strange that the virtuously indignant Miss Knight's pen should have been employed in celebrating the loves of Nelson and Lady Hamilton; yet such had been the case. Nelson retained them until the great battle was over, when he enclosed them in a letter to Emma:—

"L'lNFELiCE EMMA AI VENTI."

"Blow, blow, thou winter wind, To Love and Emma kind! Ah! come! more grateful far Than perfumed zephyrs are. Blow, blow, and on thy welcome wing My Life, my Love, my Hero bring.

Blest, blest the compass be

Which steers my love to me!

And blest the happy gale

Which fills his homeward sail;

And blest the boat, and blest each oar

Which rows my True Lo've back to shore."

And " blest," one might add, this maudlin trash. Robuster, at any rate, than these, surely, is the mediocre set that Emma composed for her hero in the same month.

" Silent grief, and sad forebodings

, (Lest I ne'er should see him more), Fill my heart when gallant Nelson Hoists Blue Peter at the fore.

On his Pendant anxious gazing, Filled with tears mine eyes run o'er;

At each change of wind I tremble While Blue Peter's at the fore.

All the livelong day I wander,

Sighing on the sea-beat shore, But my sighs are all unheeded,

When Blue Peter's at the fore.

Oh that I might with my Nelson Sail the whole world o'er and o'er,

Never should I then with sorrow See Blue Peter at the fore.

But (ah me!) his ship's unmooring;

Nelson's last boat rows from shore; Every sail is set and swelling,

And Blue Peter's seen no more."

While Nelson reaped fresh laurels to lay at her feet, Emma waited for the peace which should bring him back, but which was indefinitely delayed. Among the frequenters of the Piccadilly household, " Old Q." and Lord William Douglas, an indefatigable scribbler of vers de societe, remained real friends, as Nelson constantly acknowledged, but the Carlton House gang still seems to have pestered her. For a space she became cross with herself, cross with Sir William and cross even with Nelson, whose most unselfish devotion to her never allowed the gall in her imperious nature to embitter its honey. But, despite her own ailments and her husband's, she soon resumed her energy. Never did she appear to better advantage, except in days of danger, than in those of sickness. She was always trying to get promotions for Nelson's old Captains, and caring for his proteges and dependants; she even acted as Nelson's deputy in urging the authorities to supply him with the requisite officers so often denied him, that he would protest himself forgotten " by the great folks at home." To Nelson she wrote constantly, pouring out her heart and soul.

From Kioge Bay Nelson sailed to Revel, from Revel to Finland; and thence Russia-ward to complete his work of peace by an interview with the new Czar, and with that Count Pahlen who had headed the assassinators of Paul in his bedroom. The Russians feted him and found him the facsimile of their " young Suwaroff." Nelson's new triumph—one of navigation, of strategy, and of ubiquitous diplomacy as well —which had again saved England and awoke the unmeasured gratitude of the people, met with the same chill reception from the Government as of old. Nelson had always been his own Admiral. He habitually disobeyed orders: it was intolerable. They suspected the armistice that he had made in the thick of

the battle; all along, the white flag seems to have pursued Nelson with misconstruction. He has himself recorded in two letters to Lady Hamilton a telling vindication, which does honour to his humanity and to his prudence. He did not conceal his vexation. " I know mankind well enough," he told Hamilton, " to be sure that there are those in England who wish me at the devil. If they only wish me out of England, they will soon be gratified, for to go to Bronte I am determined. So I have wrote the King of the Two Sicilies, whose situation I most sincerely pity." He comforts himself that he is " backed with a just cause and the prayers of all good people. No medals were struck for Copenhagen; even the City began to flag in its appreciation. He flew out against the Lord Mayor who had once said, " Do you find victories, and we will find rewards." It was not for himself but for his officers that he coveted the latter; and yet, as he was to write in the following year, " I have since that time found two complete victories. I have kept my word. They who exist by victories at sea have not." Nelson " could not obey the Scriptures and bless them." The victory itself he extolled as the most hard-earned and complete in the annals of the navy. He was a bold man, Addington told him, to disregard orders: he rejoined that in taking the risk he counted on Adding-ton's support. And Nelson was further troubled not only by wretched health and disappointment at the frustration of an earlier return, but by the blow of his brother Maurice's death. Amid his own engrossing avocations, he hastened to assure the poor blind " widow " that she was to cease fretting over her prospects, remain at Laleham, and count on him as a brother. " I am sure you will comfort poor blind Mrs. Nelson," he writes to Emma.