Memoirs of Emma, lady Hamilton, the friend of Lord Nelson and the court of Naples; (48 page)

pense. To the incessant inquiries of Nelson's sisters, she could give no answer, for she could glean no news. At last letters arrived. He was longing to fly to " dear, dear Merton." He dared not enclose one of his " little letters," for fear of " sneaking and cutting," but he published for all to read " that I love you beyond any woman in the world, and next our dear Horatia." As for her, she paid visits. She threw herself into London distractions—again she sought retirement. But the hard fact of debt stared in the face of all her emotions. Just before her return to Merton, her mother wrote to her: " I shall be very glad to see you to-morrow, and I think you quite right for going into the country to keep yourself quiet for a while;. My dear Emma, Cribb is quite distrest for money, would be glad if you could bring him the £13 that he paid for the taxes, to pay the mowers. My dear Emma, I have got the baker's and butcher's bills cast up; they come to one hundred pounds seventeen shillings. God Almighty bless you, my dear Emma, and grant us good news from our dear Lord. My dear Emma, bring me a bottle of ink and a box of wafers. Sarah Reynolds thanks you for your goodness to invite her to Sadler's Wells."

While Emma lingered, bathing at Southend, Mrs. Tyson, returning from a visit to her there, described a pleasant day spent at " charming Merton" with " dear Mrs. Cadogan ": " She, with Miss Lewold " (Emma always left her mother a companion) " did not forget to drink my Lord's and your health. Tom Bol-ton was of the party. We left them six o'clock, horseback, but, alas! I am got so weak that the ride is too much for me. ... I am, my dear Lady Hamilton, wishing all the blessings your good and charming disposition should have in this life. . . . Your Ladyship, I beg, will pardon this and please give it to Nancy.

Memoirs—Vol. 14—14

'420 EMMA, LADY HAMILTON

... I will be much obliged to look for a pair of silk stockings marked H.S. or only H., as they were given me at Bath, changed in the wash. . . . She has been very pert about them, and I will not pay her till I hear from you." Nor did old sailors forget to show Emma their appreciation. Captain Langford brought back for her from Africa a crown-bird and a civet cat, which must have astonished the Mertonites.

Far removed from such trivialities Nelson still struggled to come up with that fleeing but unconquered fleet. Once more at Cadiz he gained fresh advices: it had been seen off Cape Blanco. He rounded Cape Vincent, the scene of his earliest triumphs. Collingwood, steering for the Straits' mouth, reported Cape Spartel in sight; but still no French squadron. Anchored again at Gibraltar, Nelson could descry not a trace of them. He went ashore, as he recounts, for the first time since June 16, 1803, and although it was " two years wanting ten days " since he had set foot in the Victory, still he would not despair. The French destination might be Newfoundland, for aught he knew; Ireland, Martinique again, or the Levant; each probability had its chance. He searched every point of the compass. He inquired of Ireland. He secured Cadiz. He sailed off to Tetuan. He reinforced Corn-wallis, lest the combined ships should approach Brest. At last he heard of Sir Robert Calder's brilliant encounter, but problematic victory, sixty leagues west of Cape Finisterre. Pleasure mingled with disappointment ; at least and at last he was free. On August 17 he rode off Portland, at noon off the Isle of Wight. He anchored at Spithead on the following morning at nine, and with a crew in perfect health, despite unfounded allegations of the need of quarantine, he landed.

All his family were gathered at Merton with Emma, who had sped from Southend to greet him. The next

day saw him in Emma's and Horatia's arms. This was his real reward. The society that resented his isolation rushed to honour him. London was jubilant. Deputations and gratitude poured in on his privacy. But, rightly or wrongly, Merton was his Elysium, and from Merton he would not budge.

" Thank God," wrote her lively cousin Sarah to Emma the day after his arrival, " he is safe and well. Cold water has been trickling down my back ever since I heard he was arrived. Oh! say how he looks, and talks, and eats, and sleeps. Never was there a man come back so enthusiastically revered. Look at the ideas that pervade the mind of his fellow-citizens in this morning's post. Timid spinsters and widows are terrified at his foot being on shore; yet this is the man who is to have a Sir R. Calder and a Sir J. Orde sent to intercept his well-earned advantages. I hope he may never quit his own house again. This was my thundering reply last night to a set of cowardly women. I have lashed Pitt ... to his idolatrice brawler. I send you her letter. The public are indignant at the manner Lord Nelson has been treated." Outside his family he received friends like the Perrys. With reluctance he acceded to the Prince's command that he would give him audience before he went.

He had not long to remain. On September 13, little more than three weeks after his arrival, the Victory was at Spithead once more, preparing to receive him. Villeneuve must be found, and the sole hope of the French at sea shattered. Nelson's " band of brothers " were to welcome the last trial of the magic " Nelson touch." Emma'is said to have chimed with, and spurred his resolve for, this final charge. Harrison's recital of this story has been doubted, but she herself repeated it to Rose at a moment, and in a passage, that lend likelihood to sincerity. Moreover, in a strik-

ing letter of self-vindication to Mr. A. J. Scott, Nelson's trusted intimate, she thus delivered herself in the following year, assuming his own knowledge of the fact:—" Did I ever keep him at home, did I not share in his glory? Even this last fatal victory, it was I bid him go forth. Did he not pat me on the back, call me brave Emma, and said, ' If there were more Emmas there would be more Nelsons.''

Together with his assembled relatives she shrank from bidding him adieu on board. One by one all but the Matchams departed. On that Friday night of early autumn, at half-past ten, the postchaise drew up, as he tore himself from the last embraces of Emma and Horatia, in whose bedroom he had knelt down and solemnly invoked a blessing. George Matcham went out to see him off, and his final words were a proffer of service to his brother-in-law. At six next morning he sent his " God protect you and my dear Horatia " from the George at Portsmouth.

A familiar and pathetic excerpt from his letter-book bears repetition:—

Friday, Sept. 13, 1805.

" Friday night, at half-past ten, drove from dear, dear Merton, where I left all that I hold dear in this world, to go to serve my King and country. May the great God whom I adore enable me to fulfil the expectations of my country, and if it is His good pleasure that I should return, my thanks will never cease being offered up to the throne of His mercy. If it is His good providence to cut short my days upon earth, I bow with the greatest submission, relying that He will protect those so dear to me that I may leave behind. His will be done. Amen. Amen. Amen."

The humility of true greatness rings through this valediction.

He seems to have felt some foreboding—and his last letters confirm it—that he would never return. During the two days on board before he weighed anchor, each moment that could be spared from business was devoted to the future of Emma and his child. His thoughts travelled in his letters to every cranny of his homestead. A few hours after he stepped on deck, he asked Rose, come from Cuffnells, to bring Canning with him to dinner. Canning was not present when Nelson engaged his friend in a parting conversation about Bolton's business, and also the prosecution of Emma's claims, though she maintained eight years later that she understood them to have given their joint assurances on her behalf. He purposely embarked from the bathing-machine beach to elude the populace. To Davison, in sad privacy, while he was off Portland, he gave his last mandate for mother and child. He twice answered Emma's last heart-broken notes. " With God's blessing we shall meet again. Kiss dear Horatia a thousand times."—" I cannot even read your letter. We have fair wind and God will, I hope, soon grant us a happy meeting. We go too swift for the boat. May Heaven bless you and Horatia, with all those who hold us dear to them. For a short time, farewell." The next day, off Plymouth, he entreated her to " cheer up," they would look forward to many, many happy years," surrounded by their " children's children." There are tears, and a sense of tragedy, in all these voices.

Passing the Scilly Islands, three days later, he again conveyed his blessings to her and to Horatia. At that very time Miss Connor wrote prettily of her young charge to Charlotte, whose family the mother had joined at Canterbury. " She is looking very well indeed, and is to me a delightful companion. We read about twenty times a day, as I do not wish to confine

her long at a time. . . . We bought some shoes and stockings and a hat for the doll. She is uncommonly quick. ... I told her she was invited to see a ship launched; every morning she asks if it is to be to-day, and wanted to know if there will be any firing of guns." How these trifles contrast with the coming doom, and lend a silver lining to the dark cloud hanging over the sailor-father! Poor child, there was soon to be firing of guns enough, and a great soul, as well as a ship, was to be launched on a wider ocean. Emma forwarded this letter to Nelson:—" I also had one from my mother, who doats on her, and says that she could not live without her. What a blessing for her parents to have such a child, so sweet; altho' young, so amiable. . . . My dear girl writes every day in Miss Connor's letter, and I am so pleased with her. My heart is broke away from her, but I have now had her so long at Merton, that my heart cannot bear to be without her. You will be even fonder of her when you return. She says, ' I love my dear, dear Godpapa, but Mrs. Gibson told me he killed all the people, and I was afraid.' Dearest angel she is! Oh! Nelson, how I love her, but how do I idolise you,—the dearest husband of my heart, you are all in this world to your Emma. May God send you victory, and home to your Emma, Horatia, and paradise Merton, for when you are there, it will be paradise. My own Nelson, may God preserve you for the sake of your affectionate Emma." *

1 Morrison MS. 844, 845, October 4 and 8 respectively. These two letters only escaped destruction because Nelson never lived to receive them. In the last Emma also says: " . . . She now reads very well, and is learning her notes, and French and Italian. The other day she said at table, ' Mrs. Cadoging, I wonder Julia [a servant] did not run out of the church when she went to be married, for I should, seeing my squinting husband come in, for . . . how ugly he is, and how he looks

It was not for that paradise that Nelson was reserved.

There is no need to recount the glories of Trafalgar. Let more competent pens than mine re-describe the strategy of the only action in which Nelson ever appeared without his sword. When he explained to the officers " the Nelson touch" " it was like an electric shock. Some shed tears, all approved "; " it was new, it was singular, it was simple."—•" And from Admirals downwards, it was repeated—it must succeed if ever they will allow us to get at them." Again he had been stinted in battleships.

Nelson ascended the poop to view both lines of those great ships. He directed the removal of the fixtures from his cabin, and when the turn came for Emma's portrait, " Take care of my Guardian Angel," he exclaimed. In that cabin he spent his last minutes of retirement in a prayer committed to his note-book. " May the great God whom I worship, grant to my country, and for the benefit of Europe in general, a great and glorious victory; and may no misconduct in any one tarnish it, and may humanity after victory be the predominant feature in the British fleet! For myself individually, I commit my life to Him that made me, and may His blessing alight on my endeavours for serving my country faithfully. To Him I resign myself, and the just cause which is entrusted to me to defend. Amen. Amen. Amen."

And then he entrusted to his diary that memorable last codicil, witnessed by Blackwood and Hardy, recounting his Emma's unrewarded services, and commending her and Horatia (whom he now desired to

cross-eyed; why, as my lady says, " he looks two ways for Sunday."' Now Julia's husband is the ugliest man you ever saw; but how that little thing cou'd observe him; but she is clever, is she not, Nelson ? "

bear the name of " Nelson " only *) to the generosity of his King and country:— " These are the only favours I ask of my King and Country at this moment when I am going to fight their battle. May God bless my King and Country and all those I hold dear. My relations it is needless to mention; they will, of course, be amply provided for." On his desk lay open that fine letter to Emma, the simple march of whose cadences always somehow suggests to one Turner's picture of the femeraire: —

" My dearest, beloved Emma, the dear friend of my bosom, the signal has been made that the enemies' combined fleet is coming out of port. May the God of Battles crown my endeavours with success; at all events I will take care that my name shall ever be most clear to you and Horatia, both of whom I love as much as my own life; and as my last writing before the battle will be to you, so I hope in God that I shall live to finish my letter after the battle. May Heaven bless you prays your Nelson and Bronte. . . ." 2

As in a vision, one seems to behold that huge Santis-sima Trinidad, that mighty Bucentaur, that fatal Redoubtable, the transmission of that imperishable " Duty " signal; the Victory nigh noon, hard by the enemy's van. One hears the awful broadside—the " warm work " which rends the buckle from Hardy's shoe—Nelson's words of daring and comfort. One heeds his acts of care for others and carelessness for himself.

1 The King duly gave his licence to that effect. Morrison MS.

* October 19.. The original was prominent in 1905 at the British Museum with Emma's indorsement:—" This letter was found open on His desk, and brought to Lady Hamilton by Captain Hardy. ' Oh, miserable, wretched Emma! Oh, glorious and happy Nelson!''

His four stars singled him out as a target for the deathblow that " broke his back " fifteen minutes afterwards. He fell prone on the deck, where Hardy raised him:—" They have done for me at last, Hardy." And then, as he lies below, in face of death—" Doctor, I told you so; doctor, I am gone "; the whisper follows, " I have to leave Lady Hamilton and my adopted daughter Horatia as a legacy to my country." He feels " a gush of blood every minute within his breast." His thoughts are still for his officers and crew. " How goes the day with us, Hardy? " His day is over. " I am a dead man . . . come nearer to me." Over his filming eyes, assured of conquest, 1 hover but two presences, but one place. " Come nearer to me. Pray let my dear Lady Hamilton have my hair, and all other things belonging to me." And next, raising himself in pain, " Anchor, Hardy, anchor! " Not Collingwood but Hardy shall give the command; " for, if I live, I. anchor."—" Take care of my poor Lady Hamilton, Hardy. Kiss me, Hardy." 2 —" Now I am satisfied." While his throat is parched and his mouth agasp for air, his oppressed breathing falters once more to Scott: " Remember that I leave Lady Hamilton and my daughter [now there is no " adopted "] to my country." Amid the deafening boom of guns, and all the chaos and carnage of the cockpit, while the surgeon quits him for five minutes only on his errands of mercy, alone, dazed, cold, yet triumphant, with a spirit exulting in self-sacrifice, and wavering ere its thinnest thread be