England's Mistress: The Infamous Life of Emma Hamilton (51 page)

Sir William's kindest act was to bequeath to Nelson an enamel version by Henry Bone of the portrait by Vigée-Lebrun of Emma as a bacchante. Pained to see erotic images of Emma on sale, he had sent Alexander Davi-son to buy the original from Christie's in 1801. Sir William was well aware that Nelson was wildly jealous of Greville and would detest the thought of Emma's ex-lover possessing such a portrait of her or even worse, selling it. Nelson treasured the enamel, and it now hangs on the walls of the sumptuous Wallace Collection in Manchester Square, London.

Charles was infuriated to find that his uncle had squandered his inheritance and amassed debts of over £5,000. As both executor and sole beneficiary, he was not about to give his old mistress any more money than she had already received. Quickly realizing that Greville was too angry about the debts to do much for her, and newly poor, since Sir William's pension from the government ceased at his death, Emma redoubled her efforts to extract money from the government for services rendered at Naples. It was usual to give a pension to the wife of an ambassador, but the government was proving reluctant to accept Emma's claim, still infuriated that the envoy and Nelson had been dragged into putting down an internal rebellion.

Emma had no idea of the truth: her husband had put up the greatest obstacle to her ever receiving any financial recompense for her work. In his letters to the Foreign Office, Sir William did not mention any of the acts for which she claimed a pension, including her contribution to victualing the fleet before the Nile and her efforts in assisting the royal family to flee. Despite the fact that Maria Carolina mistrusted him and communicated secrets exclusively to Emma, Sir William had claimed to the government that the queen herself had given him the letters from the King of Spain that proved so vital to espionage in 1795. Sir William told his friends and Greville about Emma's deeds, but he inflated his role to the government (stung by gossip that Emma did all the work). He had never sent them official word that she was so much more than his "private wife." As a consequence, they considered her descriptions of her services as lies.

In the midst of the financial chaos, Nelson was offered the position of commander in chief of the Mediterranean Fleet. Emma had to prepare herself to cope alone. They rushed to have Horatia christened before he left. Emma wrote to Mrs. Gibson to take Horatia to Marylebone Parish
Church and to pay the clergyman and the clerk double fees not to mention the name of the father and mother. Horada Nelson Thompson was recorded as born on October 29, 1800.
¹²
The date of her birth was put back three months to pretend that she had been born in Naples and pursue the fiction that she was the couple's "godchild."
¹³
Emma tried to distract herself from worrying over Nelson's imminent departure by planning (and paying for) the wedding of his niece Kitty Bolton and her cousin William Bolton. Secretly, Nelson was dismayed by his family's greed, and he hated the way Sarah Nelson pushed Emma to cement her friendship with the Prince of Wales in order to gain patronage for her husband, but he had no time to tell her his feelings.
¹⁴
On May 18, the same day as the wedding, Nelson left at four in the morning for Portsmouth. Emma had been wise to keep herself busy; he hated a weepy parting and he wanted her to be affectionate but brave. She cried a little, for he sent a message from the first stage of his journey:

Cheer up, my dearest Emma, and be assured that I ever have been, and am, and ever will be, your most affectionate and faithful

Nelson and Bronte

Neither of them knew it then, but she was pregnant with their second child.

CHAPTER 45
Nelson's Lonely Mistress

E
mma hoped Nelson might return in six months. Soon after he left C_^ in 1803, she began to suspect she was pregnant, and by midsummer she was sure. Lonely and needy, she wrote to Nelson constantly, but he did not receive any of her letters until July. She spent most of the year in mourning for Sir William, her growing bulge hidden under voluminous black robes.

Everybody clamored to see Emma's Attitudes, but she performed them only for a select few. Even though she had declared she would never do them in London again, Elisabeth Vigée-Lebrun persuaded her to put on a show for two French emigré princes on their visit to London.

I placed a large frame in the centre of the room and two screens on either side of the frame. I had an enormous candle which bathed the scene in a pool of light but I placed it out of sight so that the whole might resemble a painting more. After all the invited guests had arrived, Lady Hamilton took up various poses within this frame and her expressions were indeed quite remarkable. She had brought a little girl with her who must have been about seven or eight and who resembled her greatly. I was told this was the daughter of Mme [Sarah] Nelson. She had the child pose with her and the picture reminded me of the women fleeing in Poussin's
Rape of the Sabine Women.
She passed from sorrow to joy, from joy to terror, so rapidly and so convincingly that we were all delighted.
¹

Vigée-Lebrun adds a sly hint that Emma was performing with a daughter—but Horatia was hardly two and Emma Carew too old. The
child was more likely little Lizzy Matcham, Nelson's eight-year-old niece. Vigée-Lebrun, perceptive as ever, spotted that Emma was pregnant, alerted by the fact that she was drinking porter, a fortified wine popular with expectant women, and looking much bigger.

In the summer, Emma's old friend Jane Powell begged her to visit Southend, where she was playing at the local theater: "Your absence is regretted by all ranks of people. Would to Heaven you were here to enliven this present dull scene." Everyone wanted to meet her, but Emma had lost interest in socializing. On September 6, she commemorated her wedding to "that dearest and best of men." "This day am I at South End forlorn & alone my Husband to a better world, Nelson our friend gone out to save his Country oh Great God protect him for all our sakes prays the hapless Comfortless Emma Hamilton."
²

After years in the limelight, Emma had wearied of press attention. Despite frequent bathing, she was suffering from blisters on the neck and stomach, digestive problems, and headaches. When she read the newspaper gossip that she and Mrs. Billington were singing regularly for the Duke of Queensberry at Clarges Street, she issued a disclaimer in the
Post
asserting she had been "very unwell and does not see any company"
³
Feeling lost without Nelson, she begged him to allow her to come out to live with him on ship, but he told her it was impossible.

At Christmas she packed her house with guests in a vain attempt to forget that she was without her lover. In his chilly cabin on the Mediterranean, Nelson was missing Emma and Horatia. "She must be grown so much," he wrote. "How I long to hear her prattle."
⁴
In January, his Christmas package of presents and letters finally arrived for Emma. To Horatia he sent a doting note thanking her for her letter and her present of "a lock of your beautiful hair," and enclosing some of his own hair and £1 to buy a locket to hold it. He promised her a watch, adding, "I am glad to hear that you are so good and mind everything that your Governess and Lady Hamilton tell you."
⁵
Brimming with anticipation of being a father once more, Nelson wrote to Emma, "Kiss dear Horatia for me, and the other." He confessed he had "been so uneasy for this last month, desiring, most ardently, to hear of your well doing." "I shall make you a Duchesss; and if it pleases God that time may arrive!" he exulted.
"What changes]"
Emma had been pondering names. Nelson replied, "Call him what you please, if a girl, Emma."

Nelson encouraged Emma to move to Merton for her final weeks of pregnancy. He knew there had been gossip about Emma's condition, and
he dreaded a repetition of the press frenzy about her "embonpoint." "You will live much more comfortable and much cheaper than in London," he wrote. "If you like to have the house altered, you can do it."
⁶
Although Nelson directed her to keep the architect to his estimate, he urgently expected the "new room built, the grounds laid out neatly but not expensively, new Piccadilly gates, kitchen garden, &c." He instructed her "not to pay from the income," ordering her to keep account of how much she had paid for improvements, and give him the bills. He had no idea of the cost of materials and workmen. Emma lied that the alterations were cheaper than they were and paid the surplus with credit.

Soon, Emma was in no state to be thinking of home improvements. She retired to Clarges Street and by mid-January was in the final stages of a complicated pregnancy. After a difficult labor, she gave birth to a girl. At nearly forty, she was exhausted and ill for three weeks afterward, and at least one doctor was in regular attendance. The child was also weak. Too feeble to be given to Mrs. Gibson to take to Marylebone, as Emma had intended, baby Emma sickened at home. In Titchfield Street, Horatia also fell ill, possibly with smallpox. Emma believed she might lose both her daughters.

Some six weeks later, little Emma died. Emma had to ensure news of the death did not leak out, while trying to crush her grief. She could not take comfort from Nelson, the only man apart from her doctor who knew the secret.

Emma had to pay an undertaker double the usual fee to keep quiet and remove the body from Clarges Street without attracting the attention of the press. The child's burial is not recorded either in her parish of St. George's Hanover Square or in the Marylebone parish of Mrs. Gibson. Little Emma lay in an unmarked grave, probably outside London, for church grounds were reserved for declared parishioners. Emma usually found some consolation in expressing her emotions extravagantly, but now she had to stifle her pain and mourn in silence. She tried to focus instead on Horatia's recovery, but her daughter was too weak to visit Clarges Street. In despair, she longed for Nelson to understand and sympathize. He received a bundle of her letters in April and replied as soon as he heard.

I opened—opened—found none but December and early January. I was in such an agitation! At last, I found one without a date, which thank God! told my poor heart that you was recovering, but that dear little Emma was no more! and that Horatia had been so very ill—it all together upset me. But it was just at bed time, and I had time to reflect and be thankful to God for sparing you and our dear Horatia. I am sure the loss of one—much more both—would have drove me mad.

Nelson had his work to occupy his thoughts, but Emma could not forget, and nothing dulled the pain. As she confessed to Sarah Nelson, "I have not been out these 3 weeks, so very ill I have been." Infant mortality was high in the early nineteenth century, but few women had to endure such sorrow with almost no support from friends and family. Although Nelson's siblings and her friends knew of her loss, she downplayed her distress to them, for she was terrified of anyone suggesting that she might lose her hold on Nelson's heart because she had failed to give him the large family he so wanted. At nearly forty, she knew she was unlikely to have another child. She yearned to travel out to visit him, but he discouraged her.

Always bad at being alone, Emma found it increasingly difficult to cope with the death of the baby without Nelson's passionate love or Sir William's supportive companionship. Previously, she had been less of a drinker and gambler than most high-society women. In the early months of 1804, she succumbed to binges of heavy drinking and eating, followed by days in bed, destroying her constitution with frantic dissipation. Society feted her, but in private she was racked with pain and misery. Crippled by fevers, sickness, stomachaches, and migraines, she took laudanum to ease the pain and to comfort her sleepless nights. She longed to be with Nelson again.

I am anxious and agitated to see him. The disappointment would kill me. I love him, I adore him, my mind and soul is now transported with the thought of that blessed ecstatic moment when I shall see him, embrace him. My love is no common love. It may be a sin to love I say it might have been a sin when I was
anothers
but I had merit then in trying to suppress it. I am
now free
and I must sin on and love him more than ever. It is a crime worth going to Hell for.
⁷

CHAPTER 46
Money Is Trash