England's Mistress: The Infamous Life of Emma Hamilton (35 page)

The British government recognized that Maria Carolina was a vital source of information, and employed Emma to mediate between her and
their visiting spies and representatives. For Sir William to pay a call on the queen with an English visitor would arouse everybody's suspicions, but Emma could pretend the diplomats were only her admirers, wishing to flirt with the queen. When in early 1796 an important English diplomat, Earl Macartney, came to investigate the latest intelligence that Spain was allying with France, Emma wrote that she "will be alone, and you will see her in the family way. You will be in love with her as I am." She meant that they would discuss politics in private, but to the court—and to anyone reading the letters—it would seem like an evening between two silly women and one gallant man.

In October 1796, Ferdinand's nerve gave way and he signed a treaty with the French, bribing them from attacking with sixty million francs, vases and statues, and the rights to excavate at Pompeii, Herculaneum, and Portici. But people soon began to whisper that Napoleon would break the treaty. Northern Italy was falling fast to the French. Throughout 1797, Napoleon seized Italian art for the Louvre, and his men, marching with no supplies, robbed from petrified villagers and city dwellers alike, attacking and raping as they went. Ferdinand declared himself and the queen "ready to spill our blood and perish for our subjects, we expect them to reciprocate." He offered new army recruits the bounteous salary of a shilling a day, and the Neapolitans hurried to join up (in England and France men were better fed and had to be press-ganged and conscripted into fighting). Ferdinand's fine words came too late: after years of underinvestment in the army and general poverty across the kingdom, the troops were malnourished and much less effective than Napoleon's determined, disciplined men.

Rome fell in February 1798, and the Pope was bundled out of his apartments and taken to France to die in ignominy. Napoleon's armies began trekking south. All the English travelers in Italy fled to Naples. Maria Carolina insisted that her subjects would see the French as their liberators, declaring there was "general unrest, all classes, especially the best educated, entirely corrupted" and that the city buzzed with "hothouses for running down the government." Afraid that the French would rob his home, Sir William took an inventory of his belongings. Emma conjured terrible scenarios of the queen seeing "her friends sacrificed, her husband, children and herself led to the Block." Pamphlets published around the city accused Emma of having been a spy from at least 1792, initially as a payback to the English government for leaning on John Acton to introduce her at court. Accused of lesbianism and manipulating Maria Carolina and portrayed
as a prostitute, Emma believed she risked sharing the fate of the Princesse de Lamballe.

Then, in the spring of 1798, Emma heard that Horatio Nelson was returning to the Mediterranean. Nelson's mission had nothing to do with Naples: he was charged with investigating reports of French ships being assembled in Toulon to attack. Sir William and she had corresponded with him over the last few years in a businesslike fashion, and now she saw her chance. Emma resolved to do everything in her power to persuade Nelson and his superiors to defend her dear queen.

CHAPTER 31
The Battered Hero

I
feel myself highly honoured and flattered by your ladyship's charming letter," enthused Earl St. Vincent, Nelson's commander, to Emma in May 1798. "The picture you have drawn of the lovely Queen of Naples and the royal family, would rouse the indignation of the most unfeeling of the creation, at the infernal designs of those devils, who, for the scourge of the human race, are permitted to govern France. I am bound by my oath of chivalry to protect all those who are persecuted and distressed." Luckily, he had a "knight of superior prowess in my train, who is charged with this enterprize, and will soon make his appearance."
¹

St. Vincent was not by any stretch of the imagination a gallant man. That same year he was waging a bitter war against women on British ships for wasting clean water on laundry (Nelson tactfully diverted his attention to more important matters). Emma's carefully constructed letter persuaded him that the ships at Toulon were intended to attack Naples. They were wrong: the armament was intended for Egypt. But the die was cast: Nelson, the "knight of superior prowess," was sent to Emma in Naples.

"I cannot describe to you my feelings on your being so near us," exulted Emma to the knight on his way. She enclosed a letter of the queen's in which "with her whole heart and soul she wishes you victory," and flirtatiously instructed him to
"kiss it,
and send it back."
²
Coyly, Nelson replied that he hoped to be "kissing her hand" soon.
³
Her request for British help coincided with Nelson's decision to fight Napoleon in the Mediterranean, and he was eager to reach Naples. On the way, however, he heard that Bonaparte was heading for Egypt, and he changed his plans to set off in hot pursuit. He sailed so fast that he arrived before his prey; rather than
wait, a sitting target, he turned the ships around and headed back to Syracuse in Sicily to restock with food and water. When he attempted to enter, however, the governor refused him entry, believing that Ferdinand's kingdom was still keeping to the treaty with the French. Nelson wrote to Sir William for help, and Emma sent him a deeply sympathetic letter while encouraging Maria Carolina to press her husband to order the governor to allow Nelson to take the supplies he needed. The queen and Emma together were successful. Bulging with food and drink, Nelson's
Vanguard
and the ten other ships left Syracuse and sailed once more for Egypt.

On the night of July 28, Nelson and his company shattered the French fleet off the coast of Alexandria at Aboukir Bay. In what came to be known as the Battle of the Nile, nine ships were taken, two were sunk, and only two escaped. “Victory,” Nelson declared, “is not a strong enough name for such a scene as I have passed.” He instructed Sir William to “communicate this happy event to all the courts in Italy.” Emma immediately wrote to Maria Carolina, who declared herself “wild with joy.” “Gratitude is engraven on my heart,” she wrote, and begged Emma to find her a portrait of Nelson. Emma scrawled on the back of the letter that she received it on “the happy day we received the joyful news of the gret Victory over the infernal french by the brave gallant Nelson.” The city was illuminated for three days in honor of the amazing victory.

Nelson set sail for Naples, ready to be fêted. Emma made plans to celebrate him, struggling a little to imagine how he would look on his arrival. She knew he had been badly wounded in the battles against the French, but she had no idea of how ravaged his body had been. Since she had last seen him in 1793, he had lost what little good looks he had. At the Battle of Calvi in Corsica, in 1795, stone splinters from an enemy shot hit Nelson's right eye, and he was immediately blinded, although he could soon distinguish objects as well as light and dark. His eye was heavily scarred, the iris and pupil were so static as to seem dead, and it gave him terrible pain in times of stress. In July 1797, when leading a rash assault on the town of Santa Cruz on Tenerife by night, his right arm was destroyed by grapeshot. Josiah bound it with handkerchiefs and the surgeon amputated the arm in a dark, freezing, and flooded ship's cabin, where nothing would hold still under a weak, flickering light. Nelson returned home in agony from his infected wound, tormented by hallucinations caused by the laudanum he took for the pain. Fanny was a devoted nurse, and the period of Nelson's convalescence was the happiest in their marriage. To her misery, he recovered only to seize fame with doubled fervor.

Nelson trumpeted his triumph against the French at the Battle of Cape St. Vincent, a Portuguese peninsula near Gibraltar, on February 14, 1797, by presenting himself as the champion of the hour, dramatically boarding the enemy ship and shooting his way to the quarterdeck until the crew surrendered. His version appeared in the
Times
and the
Sun.
Most English soon believed that he lost his arm at Cape St. Vincent. The newspapers gushed praise for Nelson's bravery, engravings of him were sold across the country, and London, Bath, Bristol, and Norwich voted him the freedom of the city. He was promoted to the position of rear admiral and was given a knighthood. Fanny, newly Lady Nelson, hoped that Nelson's promotion would encourage him to desist from "boarding," leading parties of armed men onto enemy ships, a dangerous job that most admirals delegated to their captains. Nelson ignored her: he loved the excitement of the risk and was determined to pursue glory at all costs.

When the news of the Battle of the Nile was confirmed on October 2, England went wild. Their Nelson had won the most cataclysmic victory of the Napoleonic Wars so far. He became Baron Nelson of the Nile and of Burnham Thorpe in Norfolk, his home town. Every newspaper praised him, and even scabrous James Gillray produced congratulatory caricatures. The fashion for Nelson merchandise that began after his victory at Cape St. Vincent became a craze, an unprecedented hysteria for one man that has never been equaled. Shop windows exploded with Nelson memorabilia. Manufacturers put his face and figure on any possible item and worked overtime to satisfy demand. Within a month or so of the Nile victory, virtually every house owned an image of Nelson, whether on paper, porcelain, cloth, silk, wood, or stone. As well as busts, bronzes, and portraits, there were Nelson tea sets, dinner sets, and home accessories such as doorknob handles, flowerpots, and vases, along with less delicate ware, cheap jugs, mugs in Pratt ware, and pewter plates. Ladies embroidered tapestries of England's hero, and others bought Nelson jigsaws. When they were not buying Nelsonia, they treated themselves to Egyptian-themed homeware and fashions. Wedgwood even produced a blancmange mold that made a pudding topped with an Egyptian symbol. In England's most exquisite drawing rooms, ladies wore crocodile ornaments and seated themselves on a sofa shaped like a sphinx, while mummies decorated the walls. One satirist ridiculed the "Dresses a la Nile," showing a gentleman resplendent in a crocodile coat and boots like webbed feet conversing
with a woman festooned in feathers, both blazoning “Nelson and Victory” on their ludicrous headdresses.

Nelson was suddenly a heartthrob. Fashionable ladies hurried to dress themselves “alla Nelson” in Nelson-themed shawls, hair ribbons, rings, brooches, earrings, charms, scarves, bags, necklaces, pendants, hats, and petticoats. They wore gold anchors that celebrated their hero, who “relieves the World at the Mouth of the Nile.” Particularly sought after was the Nelson riding habit, a blue jacket with gold buttons, a near exact copy of his uniform.
⁴
His face was featured on thousands of enamel boxes used to store beauty patches, as well as on other intimate objects, such as jewelry and pomade boxes. Patriotic ladies turned up at social functions festooned with Nelson jewelry and knickknacks. They snapped up fans commemorating him that also bore lists of the English and French fleets and details of new dances, including “Sprigs of Laurel for Lord Nelson.”

England wanted Fanny to be the high priestess of the new Nelson cult, but she refused. The new Lady Nelson refused to wear fashions after her husband, crocodile earrings, or
Vanguard
buttons, and she had no intention of ornamenting her home with life-size mummies. Accosted by fans when she was shopping and besieged by dignitaries wishing to praise her husband, Fanny struggled with the social demands made upon her. She dreaded being caricatured, and she was horrified to find that her name was being used to dub a quickstep “Lady Nelson's Fancy.” Nelson was deeply disappointed by her efforts to ignore the avalanche of tacky goods in his honor and to fan worship. He wanted her to cultivate his fame while he was away, cover her house and herself in tributes to him, and report back on the eulogies in the papers.

Emma knew that Nelson's arrival in Naples was her opportunity to catapult herself onto a world stage. She desperately wanted to grab his attention and share some of his incredible fame. At the same time, she was determined to confirm him as the defender of her dear queen, proving herself the key political machinator of the court. Intent on captivating him, she wrote an extravagantly passionate letter:

How shall I begin, what shall I say to you 'tis impossible I can write…. I am delerious with joy, and assure you I have a fervour caused by agitation and pleasure. God, what a victory! Never, never has there been anything half so glorious, so compleat. I fainted when I heard the joyfull news, and fell on my side and am hurt, but well of that. I shou'd feil it a glory to die in such a cause. No I wou'd not like to die till I see and embrace the Victor of the Nile. How shall I describe to you the transports of Maria Carolina, 'tis not possible. She fainted and kissed her husband, her children, walked about the room, cried, kissed and embraced every person near her, exclaiming, Oh brave Nelson, oh, God bless and protect our brave deliverer, oh Nelson, Nelson what do we not owe to you, o Victor, Saviour of Itali, that my swolen heart cou'd now tell him personally what we owe to him!