Nelson's Lady Hamilton

by Meynell, Esther

  The strain of such a situation could not go on indefinitely, though it appears that Lady Nelson consented to overlook her husband's conduct in

  I

  AS "CIRCE"

  GEORGE RO.MNEY

  visiting Fonthill Abbey with Emma, for after his return they still lived together for a time in Arlington Street. Lord Nelson's solicitor, i William Haslewood, was present when the final rupture came.

  " In the winter of 1800, 1801," he says, " I was breakfasting with Lord and Lady Nelson, at their lodgings in Arlington Street, and a cheerful conversation was passing on indifferent subjects, when Lord Nelson spoke of something which had been done or said by ' dear Lady Hamilton;' upon which Lady Nelson rose from her chair, and exclaimed, with much vehemence, * I am sick of hearing of dear Lady Hamilton, and am resolved that you shall give up either her or me/ Lord Nelson, with perfect calmness, said: 'Take care, Fanny, what you say. I love you sincerely; but I cannot forget my obligations to Lady Hamilton, or speak of her otherwise than with affection and admiration/ Without one soothing word or gesture, but muttering something about her mind being made up, Lady Nelson left the room, and shortly after drove from the house. They never lived together again."

  Such was the end of the marriage founded on "esteem." Nelson had many times declared that his motto was "All or nothing," and he followed it out in this aspect of his life, as in all others. Captain Mahan says truly, "The same

  disregard of consequences that hazarded all for all, in battle or for duty, broke through the barriers within which prudence, reputation, decency, or even weakness or cowardice, confine the actions of lesser men." He had " the reckless singleness of heart which was not ashamed to own its love, but rather gloried in the public exhibition of a faith in the worthiness of its object, and a constancy, which never wavered to the hour of his death."

  He sacrificed his wife and his own fair and untarnished name for Emma's sake—he gave her all he had to give, which was much, and never, while he lived, counted the cost or looked back. He gave Lady Nelson a handsome allowance, and, when finally parting from her, made the generous but, under the circumstances, somewhat curious statement: " I call God to witness there is nothing in you or your conduct I wish otherwise." Lady Nelson wrote to her husband three times after their separation : once to thank him for his " generosity and tenderness" in giving her an ample allowance ; once to declare her " thankfulness and happiness " for his safety after the Battle of the Baltic ; and the third time, at the close of 180 1, asking that the past might be forgotten and the breach between them healed. In jdoing this, Frances Nelson showed herself the reverse of an unforgiving and indignant wife, for Nelson's last letter to her, in March of the same year, had been

  very harsh in tone, and he had ended by saying, "Living, I have done all in my power for you, and if dead, you will find I have done the same ; therefore, my only wish is to be left to myself."

  There is another allusion to his wife in a letter Nelson wrote Emma in the September of 1801 :—

  " I had, yesterday, a letter from my father; he seems to think, that he may do something which I shall not like. I suppose, he means, going to Somerset Street. Shall I, to an old man, enter upon the detestable subject; it may shorten his days. But, I think, I shall tell him, that I cannot go to Somerset Street, to see him. But, I shall not write till I hear your opinion. If I once begin, you know, it will all out, about her, and her ill-treatment to her son. But, you shall decide/ 1

  Neither Nelson nor Emma, once the break was made, showed any feeling for Lady Nelson's position. Emma, with jarring bad taste, gave her the nickname of " Tom-Tit," and writing in February, shortly after Nelson's separation from his wife, she says, " Tom-tit does not come to town. She offered to go down, but was refused. She only wanted to go, to do mischief to all the great JOVE'S relations. 'Tis now shewn, all her ill-treatment and bad heart. Jove has found it out." Jove was the name Nelson was sometimes called by his family, in allusion to his title of

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  Bronte — the Thunderer. On another occasion, writing to Mrs. William Nelson, whom she vows is so " congenial/' Emma says, " Not so with Tom Tit, for their was an antipathy not to be described."

  Lady Nelson had not the temperament to make many friendships, but Nelson's father always clung to her, and Hardy, in spite of his immense attachment to Nelson, took her side entirely in the quarrel, and continued to pay her attention when her husband had deserted her. In his " Letters " there are several allusions to her; in one, written in the summer of 1802, he says : " I breakfasted this morning with Lady Nelson. I am more pleased with her if possible than ever ; she certainly is one of the Best Women in the World." Even when dismissed so unwarrantably from any further share in her husband's life, Lady Nelson seems to have cherished no bitter feelings. Sir William Hotham, who knew her till her death in 1831, said: " She continually talked of him, and always attempted to palliate his conduct towards her, was warm and enthusiastic in her praises of his public achievements, and bowed down with dignified submission to the errors of his domestic life." In later years she lived with her son and his family, and her eldest grandchild remembered all her life how her grandmother had constantly with her a miniature of Nelson, at which she used to look long and

  sadly, and how she would say, " When you are older, little Fan, you too may know what it is to have a broken heart."

  And so Frances Nelson passed out of Nelson's life. She was not the stuff from which heroes' wives are made; she lacked fire, enthusiasm, passion; but, according to the light that was in her, she loved Nelson. Such women are doomed, however, to be eclipsed by the Emmas of the world.

  Having broken finally and completely with his wife, Nelson was drawn still more closely to the woman who was now everything to him, for at the end of January, 1801, their child, Horatia, was born. With extraordinary adroitness, Emma Hamilton contrived to conceal this by no means trifling incident from the knowledge of all save her mother, Mrs. Cadogan, and possibly a few servants. She retired to her room under the pretext of a severe cold, and for a few days refused to see any one. The physical and moral hardihood involved are alike astonishing. Sir William Hamilton was, of course, in the house, and apparently guessed nothing; while in little over a week after her confinement Lady Hamilton herself took the baby and placed her in the charge of a foster-mother, who cared for the child for a year or two. Later on the little Horatia was brought openly to Sir William Hamilton's house, though, of course, her presence was accounted for

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  by a train of fictitious circumstances. But thenc< forward Nelson and Emma involved themselves in a cloud of dissimulation, and the extraordinary success with which she practised the art of deceit is shown by the fact, that to the end of her long life, Horatia (who became Mrs. Ward) was firmly convinced that Lady Hamilton was not her mother. Writing to Sir Harris Nicolas, in a letter recently discovered by Mr. E. S. P. Haynes, Horatia Ward says—

  " Would she (i.e. Lady Hamilton) have dared to have a child brought constantly to her husband's house had she had a nearer interest in it than that of friendship to whom it belonged ? It has always appeared to me that she was just the woman who, to gain a stronger hold on Lord Nelson's affection, would be likely to undertake the care of a child which he might feel anxious about, to show herself above common jealousies. The only quarrel which I ever heard between Lady H. and her mother took place when we lived at Richmond, when I suppose I had been very naughty, for I was in sad disgrace, and had received a most pathetic lecture on the error of my conduct. Mrs. Cadogan pleaded for me, saying that I had done nothing requiring such a severe scolding, when Lady H. became angry, and said that she alone had authority over me. Mrs. Cadogan, rather irritated, said, ' Really, Emma, you make as much fuss about the child as if she

  were your own daughter/ when Lady H. turned round, much incensed as I was present, and replied, ' Perhaps she is/ Mrs. Cadogan looked at her and replied : ' Emma, that will not do with me
; you know that I know better/ Lady H. then ordered me out of the room. On her deathbed, at Calais, I earnestly prayed her to tell me who my mother was, but she would not, influenced then, I think, by the fear that I might leave her." During the ordeal of Emma's secret confinement, Nelson, who had hoisted his flag as Second-in-Command of the Channel Fleet, was at Plymouth, expecting day by day the orders that would take him from England to strike at the Northern Coalition, for as he said in one of his letters, " We are now arrived at that period, what we have often heard of, but must now execute—that of fighting for our dear Country." It was a cruel situation for both of them; but they had foreseen it, and provided themselves with a means of communicating freely. It was not safe in letters which might be seen by other eyes to refer openly to the expected child which was officially non-existent. Yet the anxious father must have news. So a Mr. and Mrs. Thompson were invented—Thompson supposed to be an officer in Nelson's own ship, his wife on shore * under Lady Hamilton's special protection and care. Thus, under other names, Nelson and Emma were able to express their own feelings

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  and agitations. The first reference to the Thompsons occurs in a letter from the Admiral to Lady Hamilton, dated the 25th of January, when he did not know whether the child was yet born or how the mother fared : " I delivered poor Mrs. Thompson's note," he tells her; " her friend is truly thankful for her kindness and your goodness. Who does not admire your benevolent heart ? Poor man, he is very anxious, and begs you will, if she is not able, write a line just to comfort him. He appears to feel very much her situation. He is so agitated, and will be so for 2 or 3 days, that he says he cannot write, and that I must send his kind love and affectionate regards." In a letter three days later he says: " I have this moment seen Mrs. Thompson's friend. Poor fellow ! he seems very uneasy and melancholy. He begs you to be kind to her! and I have assured him of your readiness to relieve the dear, good woman."

  When the news of the child's birth reached him, Nelson gave expression to his own gladness and relief under the assumed name.

  " I believe," he wrote to the Emma, who was also " Mrs. Thompson," " dear Mrs. Thompson's friend will go mad with joy. He cries, prays, and performs all tricks, yet dares not show all or any of his feelings, but he has only me to consult with. He swears he will drink your health this day in a bumper, and damn me if I

  don't join him in spite of all the doctors in Europe, for none regard you with truer affection than myself. You are a dear good creature, and your kindness and attention to poor Mrs. T. stamps you higher than ever in my mind. I cannot write, I am so agitated by this young man jat my elbow. I believe he is foolish, he does nothing but rave about you and her. I own I participate in his joy and cannot write anything."

  In another and later letter he wrote direct to Mrs. Thompson in his own name and person—

  " I sit down, my dear Mrs. T.," he says, " by desire of poor Thompson, to write you a line: not to assure you of his eternal love and affection for you and his dear child, but only to say that he is well and as happy as he can be, separated from all which he holds dear in this world. He has no thoughts separated from your love and your interest. They are united with his ; one fate, one destiny, he assures me, awaits you both. What can I say more ? Only to kiss his child for him : and love him as truly, sincerely, and faithfully as he does you; which is from the bottom of his soul. He desires that you will more and more attach yourself to dear Lady Hamilton."

  Thus the Thompson fiction was varied; though with the excitability and lack of caution which might be expected from Nelson under such circumstances, the disguise at times wears very thin. But in one respect he showed considerable

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  self-control—he burnt all Lady Hamilton's letters to him at this time, and that is the reason we only possess his side of the correspondence. " I burn all your dear letters, because it is right for your sake," he told her on the ist of March, " and I wish you would burn all mine—they can do no good, and will do us both harm, if any seizure of them, or the dropping even one of them, would fill the mouths of the world sooner than we intend." Emma disobeyed his wishes in this respect, for she kept his letters to her, both those addressed to her as Mrs. Thompson and in her own name. Probably she felt unequal to the sacrifice of destroying them ; possibly— and the suspicion is not entirely unjustified in view of some of her later actions—she thought they might have some future value. There is every reason to believe that Nelson's love for her was far more deep-rooted, far more an essential part of his nature, than hers for him. It was his first and his only real passion: it was not hers—long ago Charles Greville had had the best of her heart.

  In those letters to her, which are not primarily love-letters, Nelson says some fine and characteristic things. In one of them, dated February 8th, he writes—

  " I am not in very good spirits; and, except that our Country demands all our services and abilities, to bring about an honourable Peace

  nothing should prevent my being the bearer of my own letter. But, my dear friend, I know you are so true and loyal an Englishwoman, that you would hate those who would not stand forth in defence of our King, Laws, Religion, and all that is dear to us. It is your sex that make us go forth; and seem to tell us—' None but the brave deserve the fair!' and, if we fall, we still live in the hearts of those females, who are dear to us. It is your sex that rewards us; it is your sex who cherish our memories; and you, my dear, honoured friend, are, believe me, the first, the best of your sex. I have been the world around, and in every corner of it, and never yet saw your equal, or even one which could be put in comparison with you. You know how to reward virtue, honour, and courage; and never to ask if it is placed in a Prince, Duke, Lord, or Peasant." Lady Hamilton expressed her feelings about Nelson with her usual freedom to her intimate friend, Mrs. William Nelson, the wife of the admiral's brother. Writing towards the end of February, she says : " I received yesterday Letters from that great adored being, that we all so Love, esteem, and admire. The more one knows him, the more one wonders at his greatness; his heart, his head, booth so perfect." Then she indulges in a little outburst which reminds one of her statement many years earlier to Greville, that "the wild, unthinking Emma has turned philosopher."

  " I miss our little friendly confidential chats,'* she tells Mrs. Nelson ; "but in this world nothing is compleat. If all went on smoothly, one shou'd regret quitting it, but 'tis the many little vexations and crosses, separations from one's dear friends, that makes one not regret leaving it."

  Before going to the Baltic, Nelson had three days' leave of absence, and came up to London to see Emma, and—in secret—his child : the child that he already regarded with such passionate affection. In later times, while the little Horatia was still under the care of the foster-mother, Mrs. Gibson, she used to tell how Nelson, "often came alone, and played for hours with the infant on the floor, calling her his own child." It is a new aspect of Nelson's character, but the desire for a child to call his own had always been with him; and as he held his little Horatia upon his knee, he may have felt, in spite of that consuming passion for glory which had driven him all his life to great actions—

  " How vainly men themselves amaze, To win the palm, the oak, or bays."

  Records of this short visit are preserved in Emma's letters to Mrs. William Nelson. The day after his arrival she writes:
  continues: " Oh, my dearest friend, our dear Lord is just come in. He goes off to-night and sails immediately. My heart is fit to Burst quite with greef. Oh, what pain, God only knows ! I can only say, may the Allmighty God bless, prosper, and protect him. I shall go mad with grief. Oh, God only knows what it is to part with such a friend, suck a one. We were truly called the ' Tria Juncta in nno,' for Sir William, he, and I have but one heart in th
ree bodies!' After Nelson's departure Emma writes again : "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 / "

  Before Nelson came up to town the Hamil-tons had moved from the house in Grosvenor Square, lent them by William Beckford, to a house of their own in Piccadilly—Emma selling some of her valuable diamonds in order to furnish it in suitable splendour. Nelson might be sighing for her at sea, and she might consider herself prostrate with grief over his absence, but she meant to take advantage, nevertheless, of the pleasures of London society, and was bent on entertaining. It will be remembered that Mr. Elliot had prophesied of her at Dresden, " She will captivate the Prince of Wales, whose mind is as vulgar as her own, and play a great part in England." A portion of this prophecy

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  threatened to come true, for shortly after moving into their new house the Hamiltons were informed that the Prince desired to dine with thei and have the pleasure of hearing Emma sing. Sir William Hamilton wrote to inform Nelsoi of this fact, telling him—

  " We have been drawn in to be under th< absolute necessity of giving a dinner to the P. ol Wales on Sunday next. He asked it himsell having expressed a strong desire of hearing Banti's and Emma's voices together. I am well aware of the dangers ... Not that I fear, that Emma could ever be induced to act contrary to the prudent conduct she has hitherto pursued; but the world is so ill-natured, that the worst construction is put upon the most innocent actions. As this dinner must be, or he would be offended, I shall keep strictly to the musical part, invite only Banti, her husband, and Taylor; and as I wish to show a civility to Davison, I have sent him an invitation. In short, we will get rid of it as well as we can, and guard against its producing more meetings of the same sort. Emma would really have gone any lengths to have avoided Sunday's dinner. But I thought it would not be prudent to break with the P. of Wales; who, really, has shewn the greatest civility to us, when we were last in England, and since we returned: and she has, at last, acquiesced to my opinion."