Memoirs of Emma, lady Hamilton, the friend of Lord Nelson and the court of Naples; (24 page)

Let us glance at a little farce enacted with exquisite gravity by the Governor of Syracuse.

It emerges from a document addressed by him to General Sir John Acton. A key to this is supplied by the fact that General Acton, days after handing the informal " order," had expressly cautioned Hamilton that, pending the as yet unsigned articles with Austria,

all the governors of all Sicilian ports had been specially directed to make an " ostensible opposition," lest the French might be incensed into attack by any open breach of the stipulated Neapolitan neutrality. Above all, it should be noted that this Governor's letter at Naples seems to distinguish between a royal despatch signed by Acton, and a royal letter in Nelson's possession. On the other hand, the other construction is open. When the " Vice-Admiral " declared that the letter entitled the whole fleet to be watered, he may only have been making the best of the despatch.

The whole scene rises vividly before us. On the morning of Thursday the igth " several ships " were seen sailing in slow procession from the east. Gradually fourteen emerged from " the distance." As they became more distinct in the freshening east wind, the Governor ordered the castle flag to be hoisted, and the British flag was instantly flown in reply.

The Governor next sent out his boat with the "Captain of the Port" and the "Adjutant of the Town," civilians charged with compliments and offers. Nelson, however, regardless of these ceremonies, profited by the wind to steer " straight into the harbour." The pompous Governor, shocked at such haste, forwarded a second boat with two military functionaries to repeat his compliments, and to acquaint the Admiral with what he had known and resented for weeks—the impediment of " not more than four ships of war at a time." But Nelson had anticipated these formal courtesies. A shore-boat promptly met the Governor's with " a royal letter " purporting to contain royal instructions for the admission of the whole squadron. This I take to have been the Queen's private letter, forwarded in pursuance of her promise to Emma, and holding the Governor harmless in disobeying the strict letter of the law. While, therefore, in

pursuance of certainty, the entire squadron advanced to cross the bar, the British " Vice-Admiral " proceeded with the officers, and was received by the Governor at his house. There he delivered a further (and separate?) missive, "a royal despatch" written in the King's name, and signed by Acton — in fact, the irregular " order " obtained on that memorable morning of June 17, and by no means expressly empowering the reception of the whole fleet. The Governor, conforming to the prescribed comedy, feigned hesitation; thereupon a letter from Nelson himself was shown — " difficult to read," and justifying the entire squadron's entrance. Hereupon the Governor, " struck " by what he must have known, and also by other rejections [The Queen's private order?], reminds one of Byron's " and whispering I will ne'er consent, consented." He affected to raise " friendly protests," while he enforced the King's directions to save appearances by spreading the ships over different regions and at various distances. He even hinted in confidence the " propriety " of quitting the port as soon as possible, and of landing none but unarmed sailors, and even these under a promise to return so soon as the city gates were closed at sunset. On the following afternoon Nelson and his " staff " paid their respects. The Governor grasped him warmly by the hand, but still maintained his outward show of resistance. There were, he said, royal orders, under present circumstances, forbidding him to return the call on shipboard. And the last sentence of his record perhaps best illustrates the whole comedy by solemnly informing Sir John that the recital was only addressed to him for the official purpose of being shown to his Sicilian Majesty. Ferdinand was to be kept in the dark. He was ignorant of anything that the Queen might have dared through Emma's request. He was to believe that the stretch of international ci-

vility had been empowered by Acton's document alone, the document signed in his name.

So much for outward semblance. Nelson's inner feelings at this most critical juncture supplement the story.

We have reached July the 2ist. The fleet was not completely stocked and watered till the 23rd. Before that date the whole town rejoiced and fraternised with the British sailors: of sympathy at least there was no concealment, and—a real Sicilian trait—all the countryfolk immediately raised the price of their provisions.

On July 22nd Nelson forwarded two private letters, one to Sir William, the other to Lady Hamilton.

They are both indignant and irritable at delay aggravated by intense disappointment. It was not only that he was still without news of the French. He had counted on the instant virtue of Acton's order, without the need of recourse to a secret charm. For Hamilton had been told only three weeks before by the General that, in pursuance of it, " every proper order " for the British squadron " had been already given in Sicily," and " in the way mentioned here with the brave Captain Troubridge." Nelson had therefore good reason to hope for prepared co-operation. He had been met by farcical routine; and red-tape, even when most expected, always repelled and ruffled him. Nor so far had the Queen's letter of indemnity to the Governors been followed by the actual " open sesame " which she had promised as a last resort. For disappointment concerning Acton's order he was prepared, but not for the failure of his hidden talisman. So far the charm had not worked; a fresh letter from the Queen might still be required.

" I have heard so much said," runs Nelson's first outburst—which he entrusted to the Governor himself for transit—" about the King of Naples' orders only to

admit three or four of the ships . . . that I am astonished. I understood that private orders at least would have been given for our free admission. . . . Our treatment is scandalous for a great nation to put up with and the King's flag is insulted at every friendly port we look at."

The second—to Lady Hamilton—is almost cool in ironical displeasure, a coolness betokening how unexpectedly his cherished hopes had been belied:—

" MY DEAR MADAM, —I am so hurt at the treatment we received from the power we came to assist and fight for, that I am hardly in a situation to write a letter to an elegant body: therefore you must on this occasion forgive my want of those attentions which I am ever anxious to shew you. / wish to know your and Sir William's plans for coming down the Mediterranean, for if we are to be kicked at every port of the Sicilian dominions, the sooner we are.gone, the better. Good God! how sensibly I feel our treatment. I have only to pray that I may find the French and throw all my vengeance on them."

The omission in these lines of any specific mention either of the Queen or her letter, so far from being singular, is exactly what was to be expected. She always stipulated in such matters that her name should never be breathed, nor her position jeopardised with the King, and in this instance Acton also had to be kept in the dark. It will be remembered also that Emma's letter inclosing the Queen's promise to Nelson expressly stated that she was " bound not to give any of her letters," and, indeed, claimed its instant return.

But meanwhile, on this very 22nd of July, a sudden change came over Nelson's tone; still more so, on the following day before he weighed anchor. Melancholy

and annoyance gave way to delight. Something must have intervened to alter the face of affairs, something with which Nelson's temper accorded, and that something was certainly not any sight of the French fleet. Delay had been removed.

Shortly after these two epistles to the Hamiltons Nelson further penned his short but memorable " Arethusa " letter to them. Both Sir Harris Nicolas, and Professor Laughton following him, have denied the authenticity of this letter on the internal evidence of its style. They say that Nelson could never have used such a classical or poetical phrase as " surely watering by the fountain of Arethusa." But in the first place it is not, in Syracuse, poetical or classical, as every traveller is aware. Each Syracusan street-boy to this day calls the spring by the sea, with its rim of Egyptian cotton-plants, " the fountain of Arethusa." And in the second, if it were, it would be in accordance with many of Nelson's phrases caught from the Hamiltons. Professor Laughton has, I believe, gone so far as even to doubt that Hamilton about this period could address his friend as " My dear Nelson." He is mistaken. .Writing to Nelson a month previously, Sir William ends with " All our present dependance is in you, my dear Nelson, and I am convinced that what is in the power of mortal man, you will do."

The " Arethusa " letter springs, it is true, from the suspected source of the Life of Nelson by the hireling Harrison—that same Harrison who, perhaps, was one of those to embitter the darkening days and fortunes of Lady Hamilton, his benefactress. But it is sanctioned by Pettigrew, who, as a collector par excellence of Nelson autographs, was, on questions of style, an expert of tried judgment; and it will be noticed with interest that "the laurel or cypress" passage (itself both poetical and classical) forms a feature also of his in-

disputable " private " letter to Hamilton already noticed, and following immediately on his authentic answer to Lady Hamilton's newly found note of June 17:—

" MY DEAR FRIENDS, —Thanks to your exertions, we have victualled and watered: and surely watering at the Fountain of Arethusa we must have victory. We shall sail with the first breeze and be assured I will return either crowned with laurel, or covered with cypress."

The " first breeze " did not apparently rise until the day following; and even if the "Arethusa" letter were a fabrication, which I can see no valid reason for supposing, we are able to dispense with its witness to Nelson's sudden relief of mood. He was now enabled to start about two days earlier than he had hoped, and on the 23rd, before departing, he wrote yet again to his dear friends in joyful gratitude, and in phrases implying that the long-deferred " private orders " had arrived, though the evidently guarded wording provides, as so often, against its being shown to General Acton. This letter's authenticity can hardly be doubted.

" The fleet is unmoored, and the moment the wind comes off the land shall go out of this delightful harbour, where our present wants have been amply supplied, and where every attention has been paid to us; but I have been tormented by no private orders being given to the Governor for our admission. I have only to hope that I shall still find the French fleet, and be able to get at them. . . . No frigates! " Even a fortnight later Acton still excuses himself to Hamilton.

Assuredly throughout these quick transitions the undertone of Emma and the Queen is audible. Nelson

knew what had really happened; his commentators are left to guess the truth from disputed shreds of correspondence.

Refitted and reheartened, Nelson, who, as ever, had long been rehearsing his plans to his officers, hastened with his fleet to Aboukir Bay. There is no need to recount that memorable struggle of the ist of August, which lasted over . twenty-four hours—the daring strategy of a master-pilot, the giant L'Orient blazing with colours already struck, and exploded under a sullen sky torn with livid lightning, the terrific thunderstorm interrupting the death-throes of the battle, the complete triumph of an encounter which delivered England from France, and nerved a revived Europe against her. Villeneuve had been outwitted; Brueys was dead; so was Ducheyla. Even Napoleon's papers had been captured. Nelson stands out after the turmoil, once more battered, once again far more zealous for the fame of his officers than his own, yet furious at the escape of the only two French frigates that avoided practical annihilation. Never was there a supreme naval encounter that exercised such a moral effect, and so defeated both the foe and anticipation. He was acclaimed the " saviour " both of Britain and the Continent.

And his trust in the Hamiltons, his unshakable belief in Emma, were at once evinced by his giving them the earliest intelligence of what set all Europe tingling. Emma's ears and her husband's were the very first to hear it.

The French had vaunted that Buonaparte would erase Britain from the map. In their desperation they still vowed to burn her fleet. Their insolence on Carat's lips had resounded in the streets and on the very house-tops of Naples. It was not long before that same Carat was to be curtly dismissed, before not a

" French dog " dared " show his face," before at the opera " not a French cockade was to be seen "; before the Queen, half-mad for joy, addressed an English letter to the British sailors, doubtless with her Emma's aid, sent them casks of wine incognita, and presented Hoste with a diamond ring, before Britain and Naples had struck up a close alliance against the common foe. The world was a changed world from that of a week before. History had been made and was making. On Nelson's life, to quote Lord St. Vincent's words, hung the fate of the remaining Governments in Europe, " whose system has not been deranged by these devils." But for him Britain might have been France, and the Mediterranean a French lake. To the end of time the Nile would rank with Marathon, with Actium, with Blenheim. Nelson had entered the Pantheon of fame, he had embodied his country, he was Great Britain. He belonged to Time no longer. Emma's heart leaped, as she flew exulting with the first breath of victory to the Queen. So early as September the ist she had heard the triumph of which ministers and potentates were ignorant; she, the poor Cheshire girl, the " Lancashire Witch," whose dawn of life had been smirched and sullied; she, the eleve of lecturing and hectoring Greville, the wife of an ambassador whose lethargy she had stirred to purpose; she, the admired of artists, the Queen's comrade. Was anything impossible to youth and beauty, and energy and charm? It had proved the same of old with those classical freed women—Epicharis, staunch amid false knights and senators; and Panthea, perhaps Emma's own prototype, whose giftedness and " chiselled " beauty Lu-cian has extolled. Had she not from the first fed her inordinate fancy with grandiose reveries of achievement ? Had she not burst her leading-strings ? More than all, had not Nelson, already in August, asked her