Nelson's Lady Hamilton

by Meynell, Esther

  brother, would choose Lady Hamilton as his envoy. " I leave it to your Ladyship (my best and truest friend)," he wrote to her in 1801, " to say everything to him, for and from me: it will come best from your lips, and adorned with your eloquence."

  Yet when Nelson was dead, and the title and the power and the money—far more than had* ever belonged to his heroic brother—had fallens to his share, Emma Hamilton received nothing; save fair words and promises from him, and later not even those. He kept the codicil to Nelson's Will out of her possession till his own prospects were fully assured, and then, Emma says, he tossed it back to her " with a very coarse expression/' telling her to do what she liked with it

  Many years later, when poor and exiled at Calais, she wrote bitterly of the conduct ol Nelson's brother: " Earl and Countess Nelson lived with me seven years. I educated Lad) Charlotte and paid at Eton for Trafalgar. . . , They have never given the dear Horatia a frock or a sixpence."

  On the other hand, Nelson's sisters, Mrs Bolton and Mrs. Matcham, were faithful in thei: attachment to Lady Hamilton, though owing t( her pecuniary embarrassments and the variouj shifts to which she was driven, they necessaril) saw less of her in later years. At first, however after Nelson's death, things went on very mucl

  the same as before at Merton and in London. Before Trafalgar debt had already begun to cast its dark shadow over Emma's horizon of ample worldly prosperity. Nelson had left Merton to her and an annuity of ^500 from his Bronte estates, as well as the interest from the ^4000 settled upon Horatia, and a gift of ^2000 to Herself. Besides this she had ^700 or ^800 a ;j/ear left her by Sir William Hamilton, and his •legacy of ^800. But Emma, who used to keep liccounts so carefully, even down to the halfpenny given to a " poor man/' had long lost the habit of Economy. She was involved in a large way of

  iving, and the restraint and effort needed in brder to pull up had become not only most distasteful to her, but almost impossible. Her

  noral fibre was permanently slackened, her in-jjpiration and her youth were alike gone, she

  :ould never again be strung up to the old brave

  Ditch. She still remained excitable and emotional ever ; the grief for Nelson, which she described " sacred," must, nevertheless, be indulged full

  n the public eye. Professor Knox Laughton Lays that night after night she attended the

  heatre to hear Braham sing the "Death of

  kelson;" weeping at the recitative—

  " O'er Nelson's tomb, with silent grief opprest, Britannia mourns her hero now at rest; But those bright laurels will not fade with years, Whose leaves are watered by a nation's tears,"

  2 A

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  and fainting at the concluding verse. It cannot be denied that Lady Hamilton was capable of doing such a thing, though it shocks every idea of dignity and reticence, and savours of the tricks of the stage; but it must also be remembered that such actions on her part were not necessarily insincere, though they are obviously shallow.

  To the end of her life Emma went under the delusion that her fate and her fortunes were a national affair. Perhaps the most amazing of all her many claims was her expressed wish to be buried in St. Paul's Cathedral. " If I can be buried in St. Paul's, I should be very happy to be near the glorious Nelson, whom I loved and admired," she said, with a paralyzing unconsciousness as to the outrageous nature of her request.

  The whole history of her last years is a series of petitions and memorials, none of which were ever heeded, though they were less wild than her request for burial in St. Paul's. The parts of her Prince Regent Memorial referring to her actions before the Battle of the Nile have been quotec in an earlier chapter. But in 1809, under the guidance of Mr. Rose, she stated her claim* in a reasonable and unexaggerated manner " My case is plain and simple," she said; ". rendered a service of the utmost importance t< my country, attested in the clearest and mos undeniable manner possible; and I have receive<

  10 reward, although justice was claimed for me

  :>y the hero who lost his life in the performance

  )f his duty to that country, in one of the most

  Brilliant victories that was ever accomplished,

  lifter a series of former services unexampled

  ilmost in the history of the world. If I had

  >argained for a reward beforehand, there can be

  10 doubt but that it would have been given to

  ne, and liberally; I hoped then not to want it.

  do now stand in the utmost need of it, and surely

  t will not now be refused to me. I accompany

  his paper with a copy of what Lord Nelson

  frote in the solemn moments which preceded

  le action in which he fell; and I am still not

  without a hope that the dying, earnest, entreaty

  f such a man, in favour of a child he had adopted

  nd was devotedly fond of, will be complied with,

  s well as my own application." She concluded

  lis memorial by expressing her faith in " the

  istness and perfect fairness " of any Government

  epartment to which her claims might be referred,

  iut added, " If to the Naval one, where they in be well judged of, I should hope for due :tention."

  Emma Hamilton always believed in the avy, and always liked seamen. To Earl St. ! incent she wrote—

  " MY DEAR LORD, —A strong sense of the deep gard which you have ever shewn, for all that ;lates to the welfare of our country in general,

  and consequently to its naval glory in particular; with the tender recollection, how dear you thus rendered yourself to the heart of our immortal and incomparable hero, whose ardent wish it was to see your Lordship always at the head of the Admiralty, a sentiment that still pervades the: bravest bosoms in the navy; have awakened in my heart a hope after so many years of anxiety and cruel disappointment, that the public services of importance, which it was my pride as well as duty to perform, while the wife of his Majesty*s Minister at the Court of Naples, may, possibly, through your Lordship's friendly and generous advice, and most able and active assistance, whicl" I now most earnestly solicit, but a short time longer remains either unacknowledged, or un rewarded, by my King and country. ... I wil not arouse the just indignation of your Lordship'.' great and honourable mind, by reciting the mani petty artifices, mean machinations, and baseb deceptive tenders of friendship, which hitherto have prevented Lord Nelson's dying request fron being duly heard, by those to whom it is s< peculiarly and pathetically addressed."

  Poor Emma might well feel herself alone i the world so far as real friends went—hangers-o she always had about her so long as she possesse a penny. But of her real friends and the ol circle that had so pleased her, some were dea< some had gone away, and some were disguste

  by her incurable extravagance and foolish passion for exaggeration. By this very Memorial to which she refers in her letter, she lost the support —rather a chilly support, but still influential and valuable to her—of Rose and Canning, owing to some unjustifiable statements she made about their promises to Nelson in regard to her future. Emma never could learn to tell the strict truth—it was almost always too plain and unadorned for her flamboyant taste. And before judging her very obvious failings in this respect and in others too harshly, it is well to remember ihe deep truth and deeper charity of the mad Ophelia's saying, " Lord, we know what we are, Nbut know not what we may be."

  Some years before the production of this Prince Regent Memorial of 1813, Lady Hamilton lad come to financial grief. Merton Place, which she loved for its many associations and for all !:he improvements that she and Nelson had jplanned together, and she had carried out with a beckless disregard of cost, had to be sold, and her iffairs were taken in hand by some excellent men ;#ho desired to aid her and disentangle her from i.he wretched state in which she was then living. iFhey formed themselves into a committee, did ihe best they possibly could with her assets, and Cleared h
er of debt. Emma, of course, was vehemently grateful : " Goldsmid and my city Iriends came forward, and they have rescued me

  from Destruction, Destruction brought on by Earl Nelsons having thrown on me the Bills for finishing Merton, by his having secreted the Codicil of Dying Nelson, who attested in his dying moments that I had well served my country. All these things and papers ... I have laid before my Trustees. They are paying my debts. I live in retirement, and the City are going to bring forward my claims."

  Thus Emma was pulled out of the Slough of Despond—for a time. But " living in retirement " was against the grain with her ; whatever resolutions she may have taken she certainly managed to see plenty of society at Richmond, where she was residing at this time. The fear of debt could not check her passion for amusement. It may be that she clung so tenaciously to the light and stir of her little world because she felt how blank was the future, how dark the outer circle beyond the rays of the fire and the candlelight. Perhaps she did not dare to sit down and "look before and after and pine for what is not." It is no wonder if there are indications o melancholy in her letters ; the outer props of hei life were crumbling so visibly.

  At the beginning of 1810, Fate dealt her ; shrewd blow—her mother died. Mrs. Cadogai had been the greatest support and comfort t< Emma, and in all the vicissitudes of her caree there is no sign of anything but the most perfec

  accord and mutual devotion between them. Emma was completely overcome by her loss, and more than a year afterwards wrote, " I have lost the best of mothers, my wounded heart, my comfort, all buried with Her. I can not now feel any pleasure but that of thinking and speaking of her/ 1

  There was now only Horatia left, and with Nelson's daughter Emma Hamilton wandered to different places in London—from Bond Street to Albemarle Street, from thence to Piccadilly once more, and then to Dover Street. She might frequent the old haunts, but the old faces were gone, and she again involved herself in debt, for she still kept open house and presented some appearance of prosperity to the people who hung on to her reckless bounty. Then quite suddenly the crash came : she was arrested for debt, and only saved herself from prison by residing with poor Horatia within the rules of the King's Bench. This disaster did not continue very long ; she still had faithful friends, who came to her aid and stood bail, while the Boltons and the Matchams, instead of turning from her, evidently regarded her as a shamefully ill-treated woman. With that marvellous power of recovery with which she had been endowed by nature, and an 1 equally marvellous power of procuring funds or living on credit, Emma established herself again in Bond Street after this episode. But her

  360 NELSON'S LADY HAMILTON

  resuscitation was short; in July, 1813, she was arrested for debt a second time, and had to return with Horatia to the narrow lodgings in Temple Place. Her confinement was not rigorous ; she could see her friends, and was allowed, for her health's sake, to drive out. But she was really ill, and her indomitable spirit was at last beginning to break under her accumulated troubles. The state of mind to which she was driven is shown by the way in which she attacked the innocent little girl, Horatia, to whom she was really devoted, and who was certainly more deserving of pity even than her unfortunate mother. On Easter Sunday of this year she wrote an extraordinary accusatory letter to her young daughter.

  " Ah! Horatia," she cries, " if you had grown up as I wished you, what a joy, what a comfort might you have been to me ! For I have been constant to you, and willingly pleas'd for every manifestation you shew'd to learn and profitt of my lessons. ... I have weathered many a storm for your sake, but these frequent blows have kill'd me. Listen then from a mother, who speaks from the dead. Reform your conduct, or you will be detested by all the world, and when you shall no longer have my fostering arm to sheild you, woe betide you, you will sink to nothing." There is more in this strain, and she goes on, " I weep, and pray you may not be totally

  lost; my fervent prayers are offered up to God for you. I hope you may become yet sensible of your eternal welfare. I shall go to join your father and my blessed mother, and may you on your deathbed have as little to reproach yourself as your once affectionate mother has."

  There is something distinctly unbalanced in these reproaches to a child of twelve, and Emma was bewailing herself again in six months' time. "If my poor mother was living to take my part," she tells her young daughter, "broken as I am with greif and ill-health, I should be happy to breathe my last in her arms. I thank you for what you have done to-day. You have helped me nearer to God, and may God forgive you."

  Poor Horatia! Poor Emma!

  While she was still confined within the rules of King's Bench—her kind " City friend," Alderman Smith, eventually came to the rescue and bailed her out—a further trouble fell upon her. Some years earlier Nelson's letters to her had been stolen by some unfaithful servant or dependant, and in 1814, to her public discomfiture and private grief, they were published. Her last rag of reputation was torn from her, and the revelation of the Prince of Wales' episode, which so agitated Nelson in 1801, destroyed her last 1 chance of royal help. It is needless to inquire what were the comments of the scandal-mongers of the day. But as the criticism of Mrs. St.

  362 NELSON'S LADY HAMILTON

  George—who had known both Nelson and th< Hamiltons at Dresden— is at once just and true it is worth transcribing. Of Nelson's letters sh< said—

  "Though disgraceful to his principles ol morality on one subject, they do not appear t< me, as they do to most others, degrading to hii understanding. They are pretty much what evei man, deeply entangled, will express, when h< supposes but one pair of fine eyes will read hi< letters; and his sentiments on subjects uncoi nected with his fatal attachment are elevated-looking to his hearth and his home for futui happiness; liberal, charitable, candid, affectionate, indifferent to the common objects of pursuit, and clear-sighted in his general views of politics and life."

  Before the publication of the "Nelson Letters," and while still residing within the rules of King's Bench Prison, Emma celebrated, for the last time on English soil, the anniversary of the Battle of the Nile. In inviting one or two of her remaining friends, she wrote—

  "It is the first of August, do come, it is a day to me glorious, for I largely contributed to its success" [a characteristic Emma exaggeration!] " and at the same time it gives me pain and grief, thinking on the Dear lamented Chief, who so bravely won the day, and if you come we will drink to his immortal memory. He cou'd never

  have thought that his Child and my self shou'd pass the anniversary of that victorious day were we shall pass it, but I shall be with a few sincere and valuable friends, all Hearts of Gold, not Pincheback."

  It must have been a sorry celebration of a glorious anniversary—the shabby room, the harassed, debt-ridden woman, whose beauty had coarsened and whose fortunes had sunk to zero, yet who still raised her glass, defiant on the very edge of calamity, to the memory of the dead hero.

  By the summer of the following year, Alderman Smith and other of her " City friends " had obtained her discharge and collected a sum of money for her immediate needs. She was free once more, and most of her creditors were paid; but some few were still unsatisfied, and were about to issue fresh writs against her. So with the assistance and advice of Alderman Smith and one or two others, she prepared to fly from England to Calais. She was most anxious that those who had helped her should not be injured by her flight. As she told George Rose, " I then begged Mr. Smith to withdraw his bail, for I wou'd have died in prison sooner than that good man should have suffered for me."

  At the end of June, 1814, she and Horatia embarked at the Tower, and, sailing down the Thames, Emma Hamilton looked her last upon

  the country where she was born—the countn for which Nelson had lived and died. There i; reason to imagine from her letters that her owi susceptibilities were somewhat blunted; that hei emotions, which in earlier years had been expended upon large affairs, were now limited her own and Horatia's fortunes and comfort T
he sadness of her exile from her native lam seemed counterbalanced by the fact that in France people were kind, that turkeys and partridges were cheap, and Bordeaux wine, fifteenpence a bottle. Perhaps after all her unhappy experiences since Trafalgar she did not feel exile from England so bitter—she may have felt that England had treated her but ill. All her life she cherished loyalties for persons, not causes. It was Nelson she loved, not England. England was included during his lifetime because the two could not be separated, because it pleased her to play the patriot before his admiring eyes. But England without Nelson she found cold—the abstract passion of country was not in her. As the fires of life sank down, she, like many another, ceased to care for " lost causes and impossible loyalties," but craved a little comfort to end her storm-tossed days.

  This at first she found in France, living for a time at Dessein's hotel, with her usual disregard of cost. Then she moved to another and cheaper hostelry, and from there to a comfort-

  able farmhouse kept by two French ladies. She seems for a time to have been fairly contented, unhaunted by the thought of what she once called her " former splendours." Writing to George Rose at this time, she tells him—

  "Everybody is pleased with Horatia. The General and his good old wife are very good to us; but our little world of happiness is ourselves. If, my dear Sir, Lord Sidmouth would do something for dear Horatia, so that I can be enabled to give her an education, and also for her dress, it would ease me, and make me very happy. Surely he owes this to Nelson."

  To what a small petition was Emma Hamilton reduced after all her large Memorials! Her chief anxiety was now for Horatia. Within a few months of her death she wrote to Sir William Scott, " If my dear Horatia was provided for I should dye happy, and if I could only now be enabled to make her more comfortable and finish her Education, ah, God, how I would bless them that enabled me to do it!" She vows she has " seen enough of grandeur not to regret it," but she is distressed at the strait-ness of her means. She had asked Earl Nelson to let her have her Bronte pension quarterly instead of half yearly, but he had refused, " saying he was too poor." "Think what I must feel," she cries, "who was used to give God only knows, and now to ask!"