After his victory on the Nile, Nelson fully expected to be created a
Viscount, and his claim was well supported by Hood, his old Admiral.
He was made Baron Nelson of the Nile, and given a pension of £2,000
per annum--a poor recompense for the great service he had rendered to
his country. But that was by no means the measure of the public
gratitude. He was acclaimed from every corner of Great Britain as the
national hero. The City of London presented him with a two hundred
guinea sword, and a vote of thanks to himself, officers and men. There
was much prayer and thanksgiving, and several women went as daft as
brushes over him. One said her heart was absolutely bursting with all
sorts of sensations. "I am half mad," says she, and any one who reads
the letter will conclude that she understated her mental condition.
But of all the many letters received by Nelson none surpasses in
extravagance of adulation that written by Amy Lyon, the daughter of a
village blacksmith, born at Great Neston in Cheshire, in 1761, who had
come to London in the early part of 1780, fallen into evil ways and
given birth to a little girl. She was then left destitute and sank as
low as it is possible for a woman to do. She rose out of the depths
into which she had fallen by appearing as the Goddess of Health in the
exhibition of a James Graham. Sir Henry Featherstonehaugh took her
under his protection for close on twelve months, but owing to her
extravagance and faithlessness he turned her out when within a few
months of a second child, which was stillborn. The first was handed
over to her grandmother to take care of. Charles Greville, the second
son of the Earl of Warwick, then took her to live with him. She had
intimate relations with him while she was still Featherstonehaugh's
mistress, and he believed the child about to be born was his. At this
time Amy Lyon changed her name to Emily Hart. Greville went to work on
business lines. He struck a bargain that all her previous lovers were
to be dropped, and under this compact she lived with him in a
respectable manner for nearly four years. He gave her some education,
but she seems to have had natural genius, and her beauty was
undisputed.
Emily Hart sat to Romney,[2] the artist, and it is said that
twenty-three portraits were painted, though some writers have placed
the number at over forty. "Marinda," "Sibyl," and the "Spinstress"
were amongst them. The pictures bring high prices; one, I think called
"Sensibility," brought, in 1890, over £3,000. Notwithstanding her
lowly birth (which has no right to stop any one's path to greatness)
and lack of chastity, she had something uncommon about her that was
irresistibly attractive. Sir William Hamilton, Greville's uncle,
returned to England some time in 1784 from Naples, where he was the
British Minister. It was said that he was in quest of a second wife,
the first having died some two years before. Greville did not take
kindly to the idea of Sir William marrying again, because he was his
heir. He thought instead that, being in financial trouble himself, he
would try to plant Emma on his uncle, not with the object of marriage,
but of her becoming his mistress. Sir William was captivated with the
girl, which made it easy for the shameless nephew to persuade his
uncle to take her off his hands. Emma, however, was in love with
Greville, and there were indications of revolt when the astute lady
discovered that serious negotiations were proceeding for her
transference from nephew to uncle. It took twelve months to arrive at
a settlement.
There does not appear to have been a signed agreement, but there
certainly was a tacit understanding that Sir William was to assist
Greville out of his difficulties, in return for which Emma was to join
him at Naples, ostensibly as a visitor. She writes imploringly to
Greville to answer her letters, but never an answer came, and in utter
despair she tells him at last that she will not become his uncle's
concubine, and threatens to make Hamilton marry her. This poor
wretched woman was human, after all, and indeed she gave convincing
proofs of many high qualities in after-years, but in the passion of
her love for the dissolute scamp who bartered her away she pleaded for
that touch of human compassion that never came. She knew that her
reprobate lover was fearful lest she should induce his uncle to marry
her, and she may have had an instinctive feeling that it was part of
the contract that she was to be warded off if any attempt of the kind
were made likely to endanger his prospects of becoming Hamilton's
heir. His indifference made her venomously malignant, and she sent him
a last stab that would at least give him a troubled mind, even though
it should not cause him to recall her; she would then pursue her
revenge by ignoring him.
It is a sordid story which smears the pages of British History.
Emma lived with the British Ambassador at Naples as his mistress. He
was popular in this city of questionable morals at that time. She was
beautiful and developed remarkable talents as a singer, and was a
bright, witty, fascinating conversationalist. She worked hard at her
studies, and became a fluent speaker of the Italian language. Hamilton
had great consideration for her, and never risked having her affronted
because of the liaison. Her singing was a triumph. It is said she was
offered £6,000 to go to Madrid for three years and £2,000 for a season
in London. She invented classic attitudes. Goethe said that "Sir
William Hamilton, after long love and study of art, has at last
discovered the most perfect of the wonders of nature and art in a
beautiful young woman. She lives with him, and is about twenty years
old. She is very handsome, and of a beautiful figure. What the
greatest artists have aimed at is shown in perfection, in movement, in
ravishing variety. Standing, kneeling, sitting, lying down, grave or
sad, playful, exulting, repentant, wanton, menacing, anxious, all
mental states follow rapidly one after another. With wonderful taste
she suits the folding of her veil to each expression, and with the
same handkerchief makes every kind of head-dress. The Old Knight holds
the Light for her, and enters into the exhibition with his whole
soul." Sir William had twelve of the "Representations" done by a
German artist named Frederick Rehberg, entitled "Drawings faithfully
copied from Nature at Naples."
Hamilton married Emma in 1791 in England, and when they returned to
Naples she was presented to the Queen, and ultimately became on
intimate terms with Her Majesty of Naples, whose questionable morals
were freely spoken of. Emma quickly attained a high social standing,
but it is doubtful whether she exercised that influence over the Queen
of which she liked to boast.
In September, 1793, Nelson was at Naples by orders, and was the guest
of the Hamiltons for a few days. He had not been there for five
years, yet the precious Emma, without decorum or ceremony, sent him a
written whirlwind of congratulations on the occasion of his victory at
the Nile. Every line of the letter sends forth crackling sparks of
fiery passion. She begins, "My dear, dear Sir," tells him she is
delirious, that she fainted and fell on her side, "and am hurt," when
she heard the joyful news. She "would feel it a glory to die in such a
cause," but she cannot die until she has embraced "the Victor of the
Nile." Then she proceeds to describe the transports of Maria Carolina.
"She fainted too, cried, kissed her husband, her children, walked,
frantic with pleasure, about the room, cried, kissed and embraced
everybody near her." Then she continues, "Oh! brave Nelson! Oh! God
bless and protect our brave deliverer! Oh! Nelson, Nelson! Oh! Victor!
Oh! that my swollen heart could now tell him personally what we owe to
him. My dress from head to foot is Allah Nelson. My earrings are
Nelson's anchors." She sends him some sonnets, and avers that she must
have taken a ship to "send all what is written on you." And so she
goes on, throwing herself into his arms, metaphorically speaking, at
every sentence.
When the _Vanguard_ arrived at Naples, Nelson invited Lady Hamilton on
board and she was no sooner on the deck than she made one dramatic
plunge at him, and proceeded to faint on the poor shattered man's
breast. Nelson, whose besetting weakness was love of approbation,
became intoxicated with the lady's method of making love. Poor
gallant fellow! He was, like many another, the victim of human
weakness. He immediately believed that he and Emma had "found each
other," and allowed himself to be flattered with refined delicacy into
a liaison which became a fierce passion, and tested the loyalty of his
closest friends to breaking-point. How infinitely pathetic is this
piteous story from beginning to end!
Like most sailors, Nelson had a fervent, religious belief in the
Eternal, and never went to battle without casting himself on the mercy
of the Infinite Pity which alone can give solace. He was fearless and
strong in the affairs of his profession, and it may be safely assumed
that, even if it went no deeper, he had a mystic fear of God, and was
lost to all other fear.
I think it was Carlyle who said, "God save us from the madness of
popularity. It invariably injures those who get it." There never was a
truer thing said, and it is sadly true of our great national hero. Not
many months had passed before the dispenser of his praises had become
his proprietor. It is doubtful whether Emma ever loved him, but that
does not concern any one. What does concern us is the imperious
domination she exercised over him. No flighty absurdities of fiction
can equal the extravagance of his devotion to her, and his unchecked
desire to let every one know it. He even informs Lady Nelson that Lady
Hamilton is the very best woman in the world and an honour to her
sex, and that he had a pride in having her as a friend. He writes to
Lord St. Vincent that she is "an angel," and has honoured him in being
his Ambassadress to the Queen and is worthy of his confidence. Again
he writes, "Our dear Lady Hamilton, whom to see is to admire, but to
know are to be added honour and respect; her head and heart surpass
her beauty, which cannot be equalled by anything I have seen."
It is impossible to suppose that a man could fall so violently in love
with this extraordinary creature and permit her to come so intimately
into his life without injury to his judgment and to those keen mental
qualities which were needed at that time in the service of his
country. Such loss of control must surely have been followed by mental
and intellectual deterioration. This lady of varied antecedents was
the intermediary between the Court of Naples and himself, and it is
now an authentic fact that it was on the advice of the Queen and Emma
that Naples entered into a war, the result of which was the complete
defeat of the Neapolitans; the Court and the Hamiltons had to fly to
Palermo and Nelson again lived with the Minister and his wife. He
again pours out the virtues and charms of Lady Hamilton, to whom he
gives the credit of engineering the embarkation of the Royal Family
and two and a half million sterling aboard the _Vanguard_. After
giving St. Vincent another dose of Emma, he goes on to say, "It is my
duty to tell your Lordship the obligations which the whole Royal
Family, as well as myself, are under on this trying occasion to her
Ladyship." Her Ladyship, still hankering after her old friend
Greville, writes him, "My dear adorable queen and I weep together, and
now that is our only comfort." It is no concern of ours, but it looks
uncommonly as though Greville still held the field, and the opinion of
many that Nelson would not have had much chance against her former
lover is borne out by many facts.
Amongst the saddest stories that raged about the Hamiltons, their
friends, and Nelson was the scandal of gambling for large stakes. Some
are persistent in the assertion that the report was well founded, and
others that it was not so bad as it was made out to be. Lady Hamilton
asserted that the stories were all falsehoods invented by the
Jacobinical party, but her Ladyship's veracity was never to be relied
upon. Perhaps a foundation of truth and a large amount of exaggeration
sums up the reports, so we must let it go at that. Troubridge seems to
have been convinced that his Admiral was in the midst of a fast set,
for he sends a most imploring remonstrance to him to get out of it and
have no more incense puffed in his face. This was fine advice, but the
victor of the Nile made no response.