St. Vincent tried in vain to conjure with the once beloved name of Troubridge, whom Nelson used to style the "Nonpareil," whose merits he had been never weary of extolling, and whose cause he had pleaded so vehemently, when the accident of his ship's grounding deprived him of his share in the Battle of the Nile. From the moment that he was chosen by St. Vincent, who called him the ablest adviser and best executive officer in the British Navy, to assist in the administration of the Admiralty, Nelson began to view him jealously. "Our friend Troubridge is to be a Lord of the Admiralty, and I have a sharp eye, and almost think I see it. No, poor fellow, I hope I do him injustice; he cannot surely forget my kindness to him." But when the single eye has become double, suspicion thrives, and when tortured by his desire to return to Lady Hamilton, Nelson saw in every obstacle and every delay the secret hand of Troubridge. "I believe it is all the plan of Troubridge," he wrote in one such instance, "but I have wrote both him and the Earl my mind." To St. Vincent, habit and professional admiration enabled him to submit, if grudgingly, and with constant complaints to his confidante; but Troubridge, though now one of the Board that issued his orders, was his inferior in grade, and he resented the imagined condition of being baffled in his wishes by a junior. The latter, quick-tempered and rough of speech, but true as his sword, to use St. Vincent's simile, must have found himself put to it to uphold the respect due to his present position, without wronging the affection and reverence which he undoubtedly felt for his old comrade, and which in the past he had shown by the moral courage that even ventured to utter a remonstrance, against the infatuation that threatened to stain his professional honor.

Such straining of personal relations constantly accompanies accession to office; many are the friendships, if they can be called such, which cannot endure the experience that official action may not always be controlled by them. If such is to be noted in Nelson, it is because he was no exception to the common rule, and it is sad that a man so great should not in this have been greater than he was. St. Vincent felt it necessary to tell him, with reference to the difficulty of granting some requests for promotion, "Encompassed as I am by applications and presumptuous claims, I have nothing for it but to act upon the defensive, as your Lordship will be compelled to do, whenever you are placed in the situation I at present fill." This Nelson contents himself with quoting; but of Troubridge he says: "Troubridge has so completely prevented my mentioning any body's service, that I am become a cypher, and he has gained a victory over Nelson's spirit. Captain Somerville has been begging me to intercede with the Admiralty again; but I have been so rebuffed, that my spirits are gone, and the great Troubridge has what we call cowed the spirits of Nelson; but I shall never forget it. He told me if I asked anything more that I should get nothing. No wonder I am not well."

The refusal of the Admiralty to give him leave to come to London, though founded on alleged motives of state, he thinks absurd. "They are beasts for their pains," he says; "it was only depriving me of one day's comfort and happiness, for which they have my hearty prayers." His spleen breaks out in oddly comical ways. "I have a letter from Troubridge, recommending me to wear flannel shirts. Does he care for me? No; but never mind." "Troubridge writes me, that as the weather is set in fine again, he hopes I shall get walks on shore. He is, I suppose, laughing at me; but, never mind." Petulant words, such as quoted, and others much more harsh, used to an intimate friend, are of course to be allowed for as indicating mental exasperation and the excitement of baffled longings, rather than expressing permanent feeling; but still they illustrate mental conditions more faithfully than do the guarded utterances of formal correspondence. Friendship rarely regains the ground lost in them. The situation did undoubtedly become exasperating towards the end, for no one pretended that any active service could be expected, or that his function was other than that of a signal displayed, indicating that Great Britain, though negotiating for peace, was yet on her guard. Lying in an open roadstead, with a heavy surf pouring in on the beach many days of the week, a man with one arm and one eye could not easily or safely get back and forth; and, being in a small frigate pitching and tugging at her anchors, he was constantly seasick, so much so "that I cannot hold up my head," afflicted with cold and toothache,—"but none of them cares a d—n for me and my sufferings."

In September the Hamiltons came to Deal, off which the ship was lying, and remained for a fortnight, during which he was happy; but the reaction was all the more severe when they returned to town on the 20th. "I came on board, but no Emma. No, no, my heart will break. I am in silent distraction.... My dearest wife, how can I bear our separation? Good God, what a change! I am so low that I cannot hold up my head." His depression was increased by the condition of Parker, the young commander, who had been wounded off Boulogne, and had since then hovered between life and death. The thigh had been shattered too far up for amputation, and the only faint hope had been that the bones might reunite. The day that the Hamiltons left, the great artery burst, and, after a brief deceitful rally, he died on the 27th of September. Nelson, who was tenderly attached to him, followed him to the grave with emotion so deep as to be noticeable to the bystanders. "Thank God," he wrote that afternoon, "the dreadful scene is past. I scarcely know how I got over it. I could not suffer much more and be alive." "I own," he had written to St. Vincent immediately after the repulse, "I shall never bring myself again to allow any attack to go forward, where I am not personally concerned; my mind suffers much more than if I had a leg shot off in this late business."

The Admiralty refusing any allowances, much of the expense of Parker's illness and of his funeral fell upon Nelson, who assumed all his debts. It was but one instance among many of a liberality in money matters, which kept him constantly embarrassed. To the surgeon who had attended the wounded, and to the captain of the "Medusa," a much richer man than he was, but who had shown him kindness, he gave handsome remembrances of the favors which he was pleased to consider done to himself personally. In a like spirit he wrote some months afterwards, concerning a proposed monument to Captain Ralph Willett Miller, who had fought under his flag. "I much doubt if all the admirals and captains will subscribe to poor dear Miller's monument; but I have told Davison, that whatever is wanted to make up the sum, I shall pay. I thought of Lord St. Vincent and myself paying,L50 each; some other admirals may give something, and I thought about L12 each for the captains who had served with him in the actions off Cape St. Vincent and the Nile. The spirit of liberality seems declining; but when I forget an old and dear friend, may I cease to be your affectionate Nelson and Bronte." Yet at this period he felt it advisable to sell the diamonds from the presents given him by foreign sovereigns. He was during these weeks particularly pressed, because in treaty for a house which he bought at Merton in Surrey, and for which he had difficulty in raising funds. In this his friend Davison helped him by a generous and unlimited offer of a loan. "The Baltic expedition," wrote Nelson in his letter of thanks, "cost me full L2,000. Since I left London it has cost me, for Nelson cannot be like others, near L1,000 in six weeks. If I am continued here, ruin to my finances must be the consequence."

On the 1st of October the Preliminaries of Peace with France were signed, and on the 9th news of their ratification reached Nelson on board his ship. "Thank God! it is peace," he exclaimed. Yet, while delighted beyond measure at the prospect of release from his present duties, and in general for the repose he now expected, he was most impatient at the exuberant demonstrations of the London populace, and of some military and naval men. "Let the rejoicings be proper to our several stations—the manufacturer, because he will have more markets for his goods,—but seamen and soldiers ought to say, 'Well, as it is peace, we lay down our arms; and are ready again to take them up, if the French are insolent.' There is no person in the world rejoices more in the peace than I do, but I would burst sooner than let a d—d Frenchman know it. We have made peace with the French despotism, and we will, I hope, adhere to it whilst the French continue in due bounds; but whenever they overstep that, and usurp a power which would degrade Europe, then I trust we shall join Europe in crushing her ambition; then I would with pleasure go forth and risk my life for to pull down the overgrown detestable power of France." When the mob in London dragged the carriage of the French ambassador, his wrath quite boiled over. "Can you cure madness?" he wrote to his physician; "for I am mad to read that our d—d scoundrels dragged a Frenchman's carriage. I am ashamed for our Country." "I hope never more to be dragged by such a degenerate set of people," he tells Lady Hamilton. "Would our ancestors have done it? So, the villains would have drawn Buonaparte if he had been able to get to London to cut off the King's head, and yet all our Royal Family will employ Frenchmen. Thanks to the navy, they could not." Nelson's soul was disturbed without cause. Under the ephemeral effervescence of a crowd lay a purpose as set as his own, and of which his present emotions were a dim and unconscious prophecy.

On the 15th of October he received official notification for the cessation of hostilities with the French Republic, the precise date at which they were to be considered formally at an end having been fixed at the 22d of the month. The Admiralty declined to allow him to leave his station until that day arrived. Then he had their permission to take leave of absence, but not to haul down his flag. "I heartily hope a little rest will soon set you up," wrote St. Vincent, "but until the definitive treaty is signed, your Lordship must continue in pay, although we may not have occasion to require your personal services at the head of the squadron under your orders." In accordance with this decision, Nelson's flag continued to fly as Commander-in-Chief of a Squadron of ships "on a particular service," throughout the anxious period of doubt and suspicion which preceded the signing of the treaty of Amiens, on the 25th of March, 1802. It was not till the 10th of the following April that he received the formal orders, to strike his flag and come on shore.

On the 22d of October, 1801, he left the flagship and set off for his new home in Surrey.

FOOTNOTES:

[37] These suggestive italics are in the letter as printed by Clarke and M'Arthur, and reproduced by Nicolas.

[38] Hollesley Bay.



CHAPTER XVIII.

RELEASE FROM ACTIVE SERVICE DURING THE PEACE OF AMIENS.—HOME LIFE AT MERTON.—PUBLIC INCIDENTS.

OCTOBER, 1801—MAY, 1803. AGE, 43-44.

During the brief interval between his return from the Baltic, July I,1801, and his taking command of the Squadron on a Particular Service, on the 27th of the same month, Nelson had made his home in England with the Hamiltons, to whose house in Piccadilly he went immediately upon his arrival in London. Whatever doubt may have remained in his wife's mind, as to the finality of their parting in the previous January, or whatever trace of hesitation may then have existed in his own, had been definitively removed by letters during his absence. To her he wrote on the 4th of March, immediately before the expedition sailed from Yarmouth: "Josiah[39] is to have another ship and to go abroad, if the Thalia cannot soon be got ready. I have done all for him, and he may again, as he has often done before, wish me to break my neck, and be abetted in it by his friends, who are likewise my enemies; but I have done my duty as an honest, generous man, and I neither want or wish for anybody to care what becomes of me, whether I return, or am left in the Baltic. Living, I have done all in my power for you, and if dead, you will find I have done the same; therefore my only wish is, to be left to myself: and wishing you every happiness, believe that I am, your affectionate Nelson and Bronte." Upon this letter Lady Nelson endorsed: "This is My Lord Nelson's Letter of dismissal, which so astonished me that I immediately sent it to Mr. Maurice Nelson,[40] who was sincerely attached to me, for his advice. He desired me not to take the least notice of it, as his brother seemed to have forgot himself."

A separation preceded and caused by such circumstances as this was, could not fail to be attended with bitterness on both sides; yet one could have wished to see in a letter which is believed, and probably was intended, to be the last ever addressed by him to her, some recollection, not only of what he himself had done for his stepson, but that once, to use his own expression, "the boy" had "saved his life;" and that, after all, if he was under obligations to Nelson, he would have been more than youth, had no intemperance of expression mingled with the resentment he felt for the slights offered his mother in the face of the world. With Nelson's natural temperament and previous habits of thought, however, it was imperative, for his peace of mind, to justify his course of action to himself; and this he could do only by dwelling upon the wrong done him by those who, in the eyes of men generally, seemed, and must still seem, the wronged. Of what passed between himself and Lady Nelson, we know too little to apportion the blame of a transaction in which she appears chiefly as the sufferer. Nisbet, except in the gallantry and coolness shown by him at Teneriffe, has not the same claim to consideration, and his career had undoubtedly occasioned great and legitimate anxiety to Nelson, whose urgency with St. Vincent was primarily the cause of a premature promotion, which spoiled the future of an officer, otherwise fairly promising.[41] If the relations between the two had not been so soon strained by Nelson's attentions to Lady Hamilton, things might have turned out better, through the influence of one who rarely failed to make the most of those under his command.

The annual allowance made to Lady Nelson by her husband, after their separation, was L1,800; which, by a statement he gave to the Prime Minister, two years later, when asking an increase of pension, appears to have been about half of his total income. On the 23d of April, 1801, when daily expecting to leave the Baltic for England, he sent her a message through their mutual friend Davison: "You will, at a proper time, and before my arrival in England, signify to Lady N. that I expect, and for which I have made such a very liberal allowance to her, to be left to myself, and without any inquiries from her; for sooner than live the unhappy life I did when last I came to England, I would stay abroad for ever. My mind is fixed as fate: therefore you will send my determination in any way you may judge proper."[42] To Lady Hamilton he wrote about the same time, assuring her, under the assumption of mystery with which he sought to guard their relations against discovery through the postal uncertainties of the day, that he had no communication with his wife: "Thomson[43] desires me to say he has never wrote his aunt[44] since he sailed, and all the parade about a house is nonsense. He has wrote to his father, but not a word or message to her. He does not, nor cannot, care about her; he believes she has a most unfeeling heart."[45]

His stay with the Hamiltons in Piccadilly, though broken by several trips to the country, convinced Nelson that if they were to live together, as he wished to do, it must be, for his own satisfaction, in a house belonging to him. It is clear that the matter was talked over between Lady Hamilton and himself; for, immediately upon joining his command in the Downs, he began writing about the search for a house, as a matter already decided, in which she was to act for him. "Have you heard of any house? I am very anxious to have a home where my friends might be made welcome." As usual, in undertakings of every kind, he chafed under delays, and he was ready to take the first that seemed suitable. "I really wish you would buy the house at Turnham Green," he writes her within a week. The raising of the money, it is true, presents some difficulty, for he has in hand but L3,000. "It is, my dear friend," he moralizes, "extraordinary, but true, that the man who is pushed forward to defend his country, has not from that country a place to lay his head in; but never mind, happy, truly happy, in the estimation of such friends as you, I care for nothing."

Lady Hamilton, however, was a better business-man than himself, and went about his purchase with the deliberation of a woman shopping. At the end of three weeks he was still regretting that he could not "find a house and a little ece of ground, for if I go on much longer with my present command, I must be ruined. I think your perseverance and management will at last get me a home." By the 20th of August she was suited, for on that date he writes to her, "I approve of the house at Merton;" and, as the Admiralty would not consent to his leaving his station even for a few days, all the details of the bargain were left in her hands. "I entreat, my good friend, manage the affair of the house for me." He stipulates only that everything in it shall be his, "to a book or a cook," or even "to a pair of sheets, towels, &c." "I entreat I may never hear about the expenses again. If you live in Piccadilly or Merton it makes no difference, and if I was to live at Merton I must keep a table, and nothing can cost me one-sixth part which it does at present." "You are to be, recollect, Lady Paramount of all the territories and waters of Merton, and we are all to be your guests, and to obey, all lawful commands."

In this way were conducted the purchase and preparation of the only home of his own on English ground that Nelson ever possessed, where he passed his happiest hours, and from which he set out to fight his last battle. The negotiation was concluded three days before the rumors of the peace got abroad, therefore about the 27th of September, 1801; and in consequence, so Sir William Hamilton thought, the property was acquired a thousand pounds cheaper than it otherwise might have been—a piece of financial good luck rare in Nelson's experience. "We have now inhabited your Lordship's premises some days," continued the old knight, "and I can now speak with some certainty. I have lived with our dear Emma several years. I know her merit, have a great opinion of the head and heart that God Almighty has been pleased to give her; but a seaman alone could have given a fine woman full power to chuse and fit up a residence for him without seeing it himself. You are in luck, for in my conscience I verily believe that a place so suitable to your views could not have been found, and at so cheap a rate. The proximity to the capital,"—Nelson found it an hour's drive from Hyde Park—"and the perfect retirement of this place, are, for your Lordship, two points beyond estimation; but the house is so comfortable, the furniture clean and good, and I never saw so many conveniences united in so small a compass. You have nothing but to come and enjoy immediately; you have a good mile of pleasant dry walk around your own farm. It would make you laugh to see Emma and her mother fitting up pig-sties and hencoops, and already the Canal is enlivened with ducks, and the cock is strutting with his hens about the walks."

As time passed, Sir William did not realize the comfort he had anticipated from surroundings so pleasant as those he described. He was troubled in money matters, fearing lest he might be distressed to meet the current expenses of the house. "If we had given up the house in Piccadilly," he lamented to Greville, "the living here would indeed be a great saving; but, as it is, we spend neither more nor less than we did." Why he did not give it up does not appear. As Lady Paramount over the owner of the place, Lady Hamilton insisted upon entertaining to a degree consonant to the taste neither of Lord Nelson, who was only too pleased to humor her whims, nor of her husband, who had an old man's longing for quiet, and, besides, was not pleased to find himself relegated to a place in her consideration quite secondary to that of his host. "It is but reasonable," he wrote to Greville, in January, 1802, "after having fagged all my life, that my last days should pass off comfortably and quietly. Nothing at present disturbs me but my debt, and the nonsense I am obliged to submit to here to avoid coming to an explosion, which would be attended with many disagreeable effects, and would totally destroy the comfort of the best man and the best friend I have in the world. However, I am determined that my quiet shall not be disturbed, let the nonsensical world go on as it will."

Neither the phlegm on which he prided himself, nor his resolutions, were sufficient, however, to keep the peace, or to avoid undignified contentions with his wife. Some months later he addressed her a letter, which, although bearing no date, was evidently written after a prolonged experience of the conditions entailed upon himself by this odd partnership; for partnership it was, in form at least, the living expenses being divided between the two.[46] In their quiet reasonableness, his words are not without a certain dignified pathos, and they have the additional interest of proving, as far as words can prove, that, battered man of the world though he was, he had no suspicion, within a year of his death, that the relations between his host and his wife were guilty towards himself.

"I have passed the last 40 years of my life in the hurry & bustle that must necessarily be attendant on a publick character. I am arrived at the age when some repose is really necessary, & I promised myself a quiet home, & altho' I was sensible, & said so when I married, that I shou'd be superannuated when my wife wou'd be in her full beauty and vigour of youth. That time is arrived, and we must make the best of it for the comfort of both parties. Unfortunately our tastes as to the manner of living are very different. I by no means wish to live in solitary retreat, but to have seldom less than 12 or 14 at table, and those varying continually, is coming back to what was become so irksome to me in Italy during the latter years of my residence in that country. I have no connections out of my own family. I have no complaint to make, but I feel that the whole attention of my wife is given to Ld. N. and his interest at Merton. I well know the purity of Ld. N.'s friendship for Emma and me, and I know how very uncomfortable it wou'd make his Lp, our best friend, if a separation shou'd take place, & am therefore determined to do all in my power to prevent such an extremity, which wou'd be essentially detrimental to all parties, but wou'd be more sensibly felt by our dear friend than by us. Provided that our expences in housekeeping do not encrease beyond measure (of which I must own I see some danger), I am willing to go on upon our present footing; but as I cannot expect to live many years, every moment to me is precious, & I hope I may be allow'd sometimes to be my own master, & pass my time according to my own inclination, either by going my fishing parties on the Thames or by going to London to attend the Museum, R. Society, the Tuesday Club, & Auctions of pictures. I mean to have a light chariot or post chaise by the month, that I may make use of it in London and run backwards and forwards to Merton or to Shepperton, &c. This is my plan, and we might go on very well, but I am fully determined not to have more of the very silly altercations that happen but too often between us and embitter the present moments exceedingly. If realy one cannot live comfortably together, a wise and well concerted separation is preferable; but I think, considering the probability of my not troubling any party long in this world, the best for us all wou'd be to bear those ills we have rather than flie to those we know not of. I have fairly stated what I have on my mind. There is no time for nonsense or trifling. I know and admire your talents & many excellent qualities, but I am not blind to your defects, and confess having many myself; therefore let us bear and forbear for God's sake."[47]

There are other accounts by eye-witnesses of the home life at Merton, in which participated, from time to time, not only the many outside guests, of whose burden Hamilton complained, but also most of the members of the Nelson family. Lord Minto, who had returned to England from Vienna, and whose personal friendship to Nelson never slackened, wrote to his wife, in March, 1802: "I went to Lord Nelson's on Saturday to dinner, and returned to-day in the forenoon. The whole establishment and way of life are such as to make me angry, as well as melancholy; but I cannot alter it, and I do not think myself obliged, or at liberty, to quarrel with him for his weakness, though nothing shall ever induce me to give the smallest countenance to Lady Hamilton. She looks ultimately to the chance of marriage, as Sir William will not be long in her way, and she probably indulges a hope that she may survive Lady Nelson; in the meanwhile she and Sir William, and the whole set of them, are living with him at his expense. She is in high looks, but more immense than ever. The love she makes to Nelson is not only ridiculous, but disgusting: not only the rooms, but the whole house, staircase and all, are covered with nothing but pictures of her and him, of all sizes and sorts, and representations of his naval actions, coats-of-arms, pieces of plate in his honour, the flag-staff of L'Orient, &c.—an excess of vanity which counteracts its own purpose. If it was Lady Hamilton's house there might be a pretence for it; to make his own house a mere looking-glass to view himself all day is bad taste. Braham, the celebrated Jew singer, performed with Lady Hamilton. She is horrid, but he entertained me in spite of her." Of this same period, but a year later, at the time of Hamilton's death, Minto wrote: "Lady Hamilton talked very freely [to me] of her situation with Nelson, and the construction the world may have put upon it, but protested that their attachment had been perfectly pure, which I declare I can believe, though I am sure it is of no consequence whether it be so or not. The shocking injury done to Lady Nelson is not made less or greater, by anything that may or may not have occurred between him and Lady Hamilton."

On the 6th of November, 1861, Mr. Matcham, a nephew of Lord Nelson, wrote for the "Times" some reminiscences of the great admiral, as he had known him in private life, both at this period, and three years later, just before Trafalgar. His letter was elicited by the publication of the "Remains of Mrs. Trench." In this had appeared extracts from her journal, when Mrs. St. George, containing statements derogatory to Nelson's conduct in Dresden, when on the journey from Trieste to Hamburg in the year 1800; some of which have been quoted already in this work.[48] Mr. Matcham's words, so far as they relate to Nelson himself, are here given in full[49]:—

I too Sir, as well as "the Lady," had some knowledge of that person, so much honoured and so much maligned; and although I do not defend his one great error (though in that, with some palliation, there were united elements of a generous and noble nature), I venture to say that whoever forms a notion of his manners and deportment in private life from this account of him, will labour under a very great delusion.

I visited my uncle twice during the short periods in which he was on shore—once in 1802, during his journey to Wales, when he was received at Oxford and other places; and the second time at his house at Merton, in 1805, for three weeks preceding the 15th of September, when he left to embark at Portsmouth to return no more; and I can assert with truth that a more complete contrast between this lady's portrait and my thorough recollection of him could not be forced on my mind. Lord Nelson in private life was remarkable for a demeanour quiet, sedate, and unobtrusive, anxious to give pleasure to every one about him, distinguishing each in turn by some act of kindness, and chiefly those who seemed to require it most.

During his few intervals of leisure, in a little knot of relations and friends, he delighted in quiet conversation, through which occasionally ran an undercurrent of pleasantry, not unmixed with caustic wit. At his table he was the least heard among the company, and so far from being the hero of his own tale, I never heard him voluntarily refer to any of the great actions of his life.

I have known him lauded by the great and wise; but he seemed to me to waive the homage with as little attention as was consistent with civility. Nevertheless, a mind like his was necessarily won by attention from those who could best estimate his value.

On his return from his last interview with Mr. Pitt, being asked in what manner he had been received, he replied that he had reason to be gratified with his reception, and concluded with animation, "Mr. Pitt, when I rose to go, left the room with me, and attended me to the carriage"—a spontaneous mark of respect and admiration from the great statesman, of which, indeed, he might well be proud.

It would have formed an amusement to the circle at Merton, if intemperance were set down to the master of the house, who always so prematurely cut short the sederunt of the gentlemen after dinner.

A man of more temperate habits could not, I am persuaded, have been found. It appears that the person of Lord Nelson (although he was not as described, a little man, but of the middle height and of a frame adapted to activity and exertion) did not find favour with the lady; and I presume not to dispute her taste, but in his plain suit of black, in which he alone recurs to my memory, he always looked what he was—a gentleman. Whatever expletives of an objectionable kind may be ascribed to him, I feel persuaded that such rarely entered into his conversation. He was, it is true, a sailor, and one of a warm and generous disposition; yet I can safely affirm that I never heard a coarse expression issue from his lips, nor do I recollect one word or action of his to which even a disciple of Chesterfield could reasonably object. If such did arise, it would be drawn forth when a friend was attacked, or even an enemy unjustly accused; for his disposition was so truly noble, that it revolted against all wrong and oppression. His heart, indeed, was as tender as it was courageous. Nor do I think, Sir, that it is a necessary concession to truth that you or others should lower your conception of this popular personage, on account of the exaggerated colours in which he is here drawn. Those who best knew the man the most estimated his value, and many who like myself could not appreciate his professional superiority, would yet bear witness to his gentleness, kindness, good-breeding, and courtesy.

He was not "a rude and boisterous captain of the sea." From his early years, by the introduction of his uncle, the Comptroller of the Navy, he was associated with the elite of his own profession; and the influences of his own paternal home, and his acquaintance with the first families of his native county, to many of whom he was related, would not allow a man of his intelligence and proper pride to foster coarseness beyond the habits of his age.

It appears to me that, however flattering or consolatory the recital of the follies or foibles of great men may be to that mediocrity which forms the mass of mankind, the person who undertakes to cater for mere amusement withdraws something from the common stock of his country. The glory of Great Britain depends as much on the heroes she has produced, as on her wealth, her influence, and her possessions; and the true patriot and honourable man, if he cannot add to their lustre, will at least refrain from any premeditated act which may dim their fame, and diminish that high estimation of them which expedience, nationality, and gratitude should alike contribute to sustain.

A NEPHEW OF ADMIRAL LORD NELSON.

A glimpse of the family life at Merton, and of the society which gathered there, has been casually preserved for us. It presents not only an interesting group of the admiral's associates, but also the record of a conversation concerning him, under his own roof, transmitted by one of the parties to it; particularly instructive, because showing the contradictory traits which illustrated his character, and the impression made by him upon his contemporaries and intimates,—men who had seen him upon all kinds of occasions, both great and small. It corroborates, too, the report of these superficial inconsistencies made by the Duke of Wellington on a later occasion. The narrator, Lieutenant Layman, was the same who had recently been with Nelson in the Baltic, and who has before been quoted in connection with that expedition. Sir Alexander Ball will be remembered as one of his chief supports during the long chase that preceded the Battle of the Nile, as well as in the action, and afterwards during the protracted operations around Malta. Hood was also a Nile captain.

"During the temporary peace, Mr. Layman spent some days at Merton, with Sir Alexander Ball and Sir Samuel Hood. One day, after tea in the drawing-room, Lord Nelson was earnestly engaged in conversation with Sir Samuel. Mr. Layman observed to Sir Alexander, that Lord Nelson was at work by his countenance and mouth, that he was a most extraordinary man, possessing opposite points of character; little in little things, but by far the greatest man in great things he ever saw: that he had seen him petulant in trifles, and as cool and collected as a philosopher when surrounded by dangers, in which men of common minds, with clouded countenance, would say, 'Ah! what is to be done?' It was a treat to see his animated and collected countenance in the heat of action. Sir Alexander remarked this seeming inconsistency, and mentioned that, after the Battle of the Nile, the captains of the squadron were desirous to have a good likeness of their heroic chief taken, and for that purpose employed one of the most eminent painters in Italy. The plan was to ask the painter to breakfast, and get him to begin immediately after. Breakfast being over, and no preparation being made by the painter, Sir Alexander was selected by the other captains to ask him when he intended to begin; to which the answer was, 'Never.' Sir Alexander said, he stared, and they all stared, but the artist continued: 'There is such a mixture of humility with ambition in Lord Nelson's countenance, that I dare not risk the attempt.'"[50]

There is yet another casual mention of the Merton home life, illustrative of more than one feature of Nelson's native character. Many years later the daughter of the Vicar of the parish, when transmitting a letter to Sir Harris Nicolas, added: "In revered affection for the memory of that dear man, I cannot refrain from informing you of his unlimited charity and goodness during his residence at Merton. His frequently expressed desire was, that none in that place should want or suffer affliction that he could alleviate; and this I know he did with a most liberal hand, always desiring that it should not be known from whence it came. His residence at Merton was a continued course of charity and goodness, setting such an example of propriety and regularity that there are few who would not be benefited by following it." His thoughtfulness and generosity to those about him was equally shown in his charges to his agents at Bronte, for the welfare of the Sicilian peasantry upon his estate. In the regularity and propriety of observance which impressed the clergyman's daughter, he carried out the ideal he had proposed to Lady Hamilton. "Have we a nice church at Merton? We will set an example of goodness to the under parishioners."

Whatever of censure or of allowance may be pronounced upon the life he was living, there was in the intention just quoted no effort to conciliate the opinion of society, which he was resolute in braving; nor was it inconsistent with the general tenor of his thoughts. In the sense of profound recognition of the dependence of events upon God, and of the obligation to manifest gratitude in outward act, Nelson was from first to last a strongly religious man. To his sin he had contrived to reconcile his conscience by fallacies, analogies to which will be supplied by the inward experience of many, if they will be honest with themselves. The outcome upon character of such dealings with one's self is, in the individual case, a matter to which man's judgment is not competent. During the last two years and a half of Nelson's life, the chaplain of the "Victory" was associated with him in close intimacy as confidential secretary, with whom he talked freely on many matters. "He was," said this gentleman, "a thorough clergyman's son—I should think he never went to bed or got up without kneeling down to say his prayers." He often expressed his attachment to the church in which he had been brought up, and showed the sincerity of his words by the regularity and respect with which he always had divine service performed on board the "Victory," whenever the weather permitted. After the service he had generally a few words with the chaplain on the subject of the sermon, either thanking him for its being a good one, or remarking that it was not so well adapted as usual to the crew. More than once, on such occasions, he took down a volume of sermons in his own cabin, with the page already marked at some discourse which he thought well suited to such a congregation, and requested Dr. Scott to preach it on the following Sunday.[51]

On the 29th of October, 1801, just one week after he left the Downs, Nelson took his seat in the House of Lords as a Viscount, his former commander-in-chief, Hood, who was of the same rank in the peerage, being one of those to present him. While in England he spoke from time to time on professional subjects, or those connected with the external policy of the country, on which he held clear and decided opinions, based, naturally, upon naval exigencies. His first speech was a warm and generous eulogy of Sir James Saumarez, once second to himself at the Battle of the Nile, an officer with whom it is not too much to say he was not in close personal sympathy, as he had been with Troubridge, but who had just fought two desperate squadron actions under conditions of singular difficulty, out of which he had wrenched a success that was both signal and, in the then state of the war and negotiations, most opportune. "Sir James Saumarez's action," said Lord St. Vincent, "has put us upon velvet."

Nelson's own thirst for glory made him keenly appreciative of the necessity to be just and liberal, in distributing to those who had achieved great deeds the outward tokens of distinguished service, which often are the sole recompense for dangers run and hardships borne. Scarcely had he retired from his active command in the Channel when he felt impelled to enter upon a painful and humiliating controversy, on behalf of those who had shared with him all the perils of the desperate Battle of Copenhagen; for which, unlike himself, they had received no reward, but from whom he refused to be dissociated in the national esteem and gratitude.

On the 19th of November, 1801, the City of London voted its thanks to the divisions of the Army and the Navy, whose joint operations during the previous summer had brought to an end the French occupation of Egypt, begun by Bonaparte in 1798. Nelson had for some time been uneasy that no such notice had been taken of the Battle of Copenhagen, for the custom of the Corporation of the chief city of the Empire, thus to honor the great achievements of their armed forces, was, he asserted, invariable in his experience; consequently, the omission in the case of Copenhagen was a deliberate slight, the implication of which, he thought, could not be disregarded. Delay, up to the time then present, might be attributed to other causes, not necessarily offensive, although, from a letter to his friend Davison, he seems to have feared neglect; but the vote of thanks to the two Services for their successes in Egypt left no room to doubt, that the failure to take similar action in the case of Copenhagen was intentional.

This Nelson regarded, and justly, as an imputation upon the transactions there. Where a practice is invariable, omission is as significant as commission can be. Either the victory was doubtful, or of small consequence, or, for some other reason, not creditable to the victors. He wrote at once to the Lord Mayor. After recalling the facts, he said: "If I were only personally concerned, I should bear the stigma, now first attempted to be placed upon my brow, with humility. But, my Lord, I am the natural guardian of the characters of the Officers of the Navy, Army, and Marines, who fought, and so profusely bled, under my command on that day.... When I am called upon to speak of the merits of the Captains of his Majesty's ships, and of the officers and men, whether seamen, marines, or soldiers, I that day had the happiness to command, I say, that never was the glory of this country upheld with more determined bravery than upon that occasion, and more important service was never rendered to our King and Country. It is my duty to prove to the brave fellows, my companions in dangers, that I have not failed, at every proper place, to represent, as well as I am able, their bravery and meritorious services."

This matter was the occasion, possibly the cause, of bringing him into collision with the Admiralty and the Government on the same subject. Although his private representations, soon after his return to England, had obtained from Lord St. Vincent, as he thought, a promise that medals should be issued for the battle, no steps thereto had been taken. He now enclosed to the Prime Minister and to the First Lord a copy of his letter to the Lord Mayor; and to both he alluded to the assurance he believed had been made him. "I have," he said, "been expecting the medals daily since the King's return from Weymouth." St. Vincent's reply was prompt as himself. With reference to the former matter, he confined himself to drily thanking Nelson, without comment, "for communicating the letter you have judged fit to write to the Lord Mayor;" but as to the medals, he wrote a separate note, telling him that he had "given no encouragement, but on the contrary had explained to your Lordship, and to Mr. Addington, the impropriety of such a measure being recommended to the King."

Nelson, to use his own word, was "thunder-struck" by this statement. "I own," he said, "I considered the words your Lordship used as conveying an assurance. It was an apology for their not being given before, which, I understood you, they would have been, but for the difficulty of fixing who was to have them;" an allusion particularly valuable as indicating, in this case of flat contradiction between two honorable men, what was the probable cause of withholding the marks of hard-won distinction. "I have never failed assuring the Captains, that I have seen and communicated with, that they might depend on receiving them. I could not, my dear Lord, have had any interest in misunderstanding you, and representing that as an intended Honour from the King which you considered as so improper to be recommended to the King: therefore I must beg that your Lordship will reconsider our conversation—to me of the very highest concern, and think that I could not but believe that we would have medals. I am truly made ill by your letter." St. Vincent replied briefly, "That you have perfectly mistaken all that passed between us in the conversation you allude to, is most certain. At the same time I am extremely concerned that it should have had so material an effect upon your health," etc. "Either Lord St. Vincent or myself are liars," wrote Nelson to Davison; a conclusion not inevitable to those who have had experience of human misunderstandings.

The Prime Minister took a week to reply. When he did, he deprecated the sending of any letter to the Mayor, for reasons, he said, "not merely of a public nature, but connected with the interest I shall ever take in your well-earned fame." These reasons, he added, he would be ready to give him in a private interview. Nelson had asked his opinion upon the terms of the letter; but, impatient after waiting three days, had already sent it in when this answer came. It seems probable that, with his usual promptness, he called at once; for on the same day, November 28, that he received Addington's letter he withdrew that to the Mayor.[52] "By the advice of a friend," he said, "I have now to request that your Lordship will consider my letter as withdrawn, as the discussion of the question may bring forward characters which had better rest quiet."[53] There seems, therefore, little reason to doubt that the honors, due to those who fought, were withheld out of consideration to those who did not fight. Nelson himself recognized the difficulty. "They are not Sir Hyde Parker's real friends who wish for an inquiry," he had written confidentially to Davison before leaving the Baltic. "His friends in the fleet wish everything of this fleet to be forgot, for we all respect and love Sir Hyde; but the dearer his friends, the more uneasy they have been at his idleness, for that is the truth—no criminality." But, as he vigorously and characteristically said of another matter occurring about this time, "I was told the difficulties were insurmountable. My answer was, 'As the thing is necessary to be done, the more difficulties, the more necessary to try to remove them.'"

As regards the soundness of Nelson's grounds, and the propriety of his action in this matter, it must, first, be kept in mind, that, before the City voted its thanks to the Navy engaged in Egypt, he had spoken in the House of Lords in favor of the thanks of the Government to the same force, although, as a whole, it had there played a subordinate part; and also, that, although deprived of the medal which he hoped to get in common with others, he had himself been rewarded for Copenhagen by promotion in the peerage.[54] This separation between himself and the mass of those who fought under him, necessarily intensified the feeling of one always profusely generous, in praise as in money; but his point otherwise was well taken. The task was ungracious and unpleasant, it may almost be called dirty work to have thus to solicit honors and distinction for deeds in which one has borne the principal part; but dirty work must at times be done, with hands or words, and the humiliation then rests, not with him who does it, but with them who make it necessary. Had the victors at Copenhagen fought a desperate fight, and were they neglected? If so, and the outside world looked indifferently on, who from among them should first come forth to defend their glory from implication of some undefined stain, if not their Commander-in-Chief, one whose great renown could well spare the additional ray of lustre which he demanded for them. Whether underneath lay some spot of self-seeking, of the secondary motive from which so few of us are free, matters little or nothing. The thing was right to be done, and he did it. If the Government and the City of London, by calculated omission, proclaimed, as they did, that these men had not deserved well of their country, it became him to say, as he did, openly to the City, subordinately to his superiors, that they had done men's work and deserved men's reward.

"If Lord Nelson could forget the services of those who have fought under his command, he would ill deserve to be so supported as he always has been." Thus he closed his last letter to the Lord Mayor on this subject, a year after the correspondence began. It was this noble sympathy with all beneath him, the lack of which has been charged against the great Commander of the British Army of this period, that won for Nelson the enthusiastic affection which, in all parts of his command, however remote from his own eyes, aroused the ardent desire to please him. No good service done him escaped his hearty acknowledgment, and he was unwearied in upholding the just claims of others to consideration. In the matter of Copenhagen, up to the time he left the country, eighteen months later, he refused any compromise. He recognized, of course, that he was powerless in the face of St. Vincent's opposition; but, he wrote to one of the captains engaged, "I am fixed never to abandon the fair fame of my companions in dangers. I have had a meeting with Mr. Addington on the subject; I don't expect we shall get much by it, except having had a full opportunity of speaking my mind." The Premier's arguments had been to him wholly inconclusive. Oddly enough, as things were, the Sultan sent him a decoration for Copenhagen. Coming from a foreign sovereign, there was, in accepting it, no inconsistency with his general attitude; but in referring the question to the Government, as was necessary, he told the Prime Minister, "If I can judge the feelings of others by myself, there can be no honours bestowed upon me by foreigners that do not reflect ten times on our Sovereign and Country."[55]

In conformity with this general stand, when it was proposed in June, 1802, to give him the thanks of the City, for taking command of the force destined to defend it against invasion, he wrote to request that the motion might be withdrawn, on the express ground that no thanks had been given those engaged at Copenhagen. "I should feel much mortified, when I reflected on the noble support I that day received, at any honour which could separate me from them." He alleged the same reason, in the following September, for refusing to dine with the Corporation. "Never, till the City of London think justly of the merits of my brave companions of the 2d of April, can I, their commander, receive any attention from the City of London." A like refusal was sent to his invitation for Lord Mayor's day.

After the interview with Mr. Addington, the question of medals was dropped. He had explained his position fully, and felt that it was hopeless to attempt more, so long as the Admiralty was against him; but when the Administration changed, in May, 1804, he wrote to Lord Melville, the new First-Lord, enclosing a statement of facts, including his correspondence with St. Vincent, and requesting a reconsideration of the matter. "The medal," he said, is withheld, "for what reason Lord St. Vincent best knows. I hope," he concluded, "for your recommendation to his Majesty, that he may be pleased to bestow that mark of honour on the Battle of Copenhagen, which his goodness has given to the Battle of St. Vincent, the First of June, of Camperdown, and the Nile." Melville, in a very sympathetic and courteous letter, declined, for a reason whose weight must be admitted: "When badges of triumph are bestowed in the heat and conflict of war, they do not rankle in the minds even of the enemy, at whose expense they are bestowed; but the feeling, I suspect, would be very different in Denmark, if the present moment was to be chosen for opening afresh wounds which are, I trust, now healed, or in the daily progress of being so." So it resulted that for some reason, only dimly outlined, no mark of public recognition ever was conferred upon the most difficult, the most hazardous, and, at the moment, perhaps the most critically important of Nelson's victories; that which he himself considered the greatest of his achievements.

This unfortunate and embittering controversy was the most marked and characteristic incident of his residence at Merton, between October, 1801, when he first went there, and May, 1803, when he departed for the Mediterranean, upon the renewal of war with France. Living always with the Hamiltons, the most copious stream of private correspondence was cut off; and being unemployed after April, 1802, his official letters are confined to subjects connected rather with the past than with the then present time. Upon general naval questions he had, however, something to say. A trip to Wales suggests a memorandum to the Prime Minister concerning the cultivation and preservation of oak timber in the Forest of Dean. He submits to him also his views as to the disposition of Malta, in case the provision of the Treaty of Amiens, which re-established there the Order of the Knights under the guarantee of the six great Powers, should fail, owing to the refusal of Russia to join in the proposed guarantee. At the time he wrote,—December, 1802,—the question was become burning, threatening the rupture of the existing peace between France and Great Britain; a result which, in fact, soon followed, and turned mainly upon this point. The essential aim in the provision, he observed, was that neither of the two countries should have the island. If the Order could not be restored, then it ought to go to Naples, again under the guarantee of the Powers. It was useless to England, for operations against France; and in the hands of the latter was a direct menace to Sicily. This arrangement would accord with the spirit of the treaty; but if it also was impracticable, Great Britain had no choice but to keep Malta herself. It would cost L300,000 annually, but anything was better than to chance its falling again into the hands of France.

In like manner he submitted to the Admiralty plans for the more certain manning of the Navy, and for the prevention of desertion. The material conditions of seamen while in the service, the pay and provisions, were, he considered, all that could be desired; but still there was great indisposition to enlist, and the desertions in the last war, 1793-1801, rose to the enormous figure of forty-two thousand. The remedy he outlined was a Registration of seamen, and of certificates to be given them, bearing a personal description by which they could be identified, and on which their character and services would appear. For lack of such papers, seamen by hundreds were in London in distress, although large amounts of money were due them at prize agencies, where the agent feared to pay for want of identification. A certificate showing five years' faithful service should entitle the holder to an annual bounty of two guineas, to be increased by further periods. Such provisions were well calculated to appeal to men accustomed to entertain prudential considerations, and to create gradually a class with whom they would weigh, and who would by them be retained in permanent employment. In meeting the case of desertions, caused by the heedlessness and weakness of seamen, Nelson became more vague. The nature of the trouble he recognized clearly enough, but there is a lack of definiteness in the remedy he proposed to meet an evil which still exists. "The mainspring of all my plan is, that of Certificates fully descriptive of the persons; the very greatest good must result from it. Something should be attempted at these times to make our seamen, at the din of war, fly to our Navy, instead of flying from it." His plan is substantially that now adopted.

Closely connected with the discontent of seamen was the subject of prize-money, in the receipt and distribution of which great irregularities and abuses existed among the agents, to remove which also he made particular and detailed suggestions; and he strongly supported, though with discriminating criticism, the Bill for an Inquiry into Naval Abuses, which embodied the most prominent of St. Vincent's administrative measures while at the head of the Admiralty. But, though thus supporting the Earl in his policy of investigation, and retaining his respect for him as a sea-officer, he was utterly dissatisfied with the general conduct of the Admiralty and with its attitude towards himself in particular. "I attribute none of the tyrannical conduct of the late Board to Lord St. Vincent," he wrote two years later. "For the Earl I have a sincere regard, but he was dreadfully ill-advised, and I fear the Service has suffered much from their conduct." It would seem as if he did not, after the first moments of annoyance, forget the irritation he felt against Troubridge at being retained in the Downs against his will, and, as he thought, without necessity. "I thank you," he wrote to Captain Murray, "for taking the trouble of driving seven miles to make me a visit; for, could you believe it, there are those who I thought were my firm friends, some of near thirty years' standing—who have never taken that trouble!" This may not refer to Troubridge, but the description answers to him, and it appears that in the Nelson-Hamilton circle his name now stood as a type of ingratitude.[56]

Writing to Davison in September, 1802, after a trip of six weeks made to Wales, in company with the Hamiltons, he says: "Our tour has been very fine and interesting, and the way in which I have been everywhere received most flattering to my feelings; and although some of the higher powers may wish to keep me down, yet the reward of the general approbation and gratitude for my services is an ample reward for all I have done; but it makes a comparison fly up to my mind, not much to the credit of some in the higher Offices of the State." He seems to have felt that neither in his influence with the Admiralty, nor in reference to his opinions on foreign topics, did he receive the recognition that his distinguished services, abilities, and experience claimed. "Having failed entirely in submitting my thoughts on three points"—those just cited, manning, desertion, and prize-money—"I was disheartened;" and to this he attributes his not sending in a memoir which he had prepared upon the subject of the Flotilla for Coast Defence.

But, while he resented this neglect, it did not greatly interfere with his happiness, which was at this time well-nigh complete. He complains of ill health, it is true, from time to time, and his means were insufficient duly to keep up the two establishments—Lady Nelson's and Merton—for which he was pecuniarily responsible. Under this embarrassment he chafed, and with a sense of injustice which was not unfounded; for, if reward be proportioned to merit and to the importance of services rendered, Nelson had been most inadequately repaid. For the single victories of St. Vincent and Camperdown, each commander-in-chief had received a pension of L3,000. The Nile and Copenhagen together had brought him no more than L2,000; indeed, as he had already been granted L1,000 a year for St. Vincent, another thousand may be said to have been all he got for two of the greatest victories of the war. In submitting a request for an increase, he asked pertinently, "Was it, or not, the intention of his Majesty's Government to place my rewards for services lower than Lord St. Vincent or Lord Duncan?" There was, of course, the damaging circumstance that the conditions under which he chose to live made him poorer than he needed to be; but with this the Government had no concern. Its only care should have been that its recompense was commensurate with his deserts, and it is revolting to see a man like Nelson, naturally high-toned and always liberal, forced to the undignified position of urging—and in vain—for the equal remuneration that should have been granted spontaneously long before.

In his criticisms of the Admiralty's general course, it does not appear whether Nelson, who was hereafter to be the greatest sufferer from St. Vincent's excessive economies, realized as yet the particular injury being done by them to the material of the Navy. In his passion for reform, the veteran seaman obstinately shut his eyes to the threatening condition of the political atmosphere, and refused to recognize the imminent danger of a renewal of the war, because it necessarily would postpone his projected innovations. Assuming the continuance of peace with all the violence of a prejudice, he permitted the strength and resources of the Navy to deteriorate rapidly, both by direct action and by omission to act. "Lord St. Vincent," wrote Minto in November, 1802, "is more violent than anybody against the war, and has declared that he will resign if ministers dare go to war. His principal reason is, I believe, that the ships are so much out of repair as to be unfit for service." "Lord Nelson," he says at the same period, "has been with me a long time to-day. He seems much of my mind on material points, but especially on the necessity of being better prepared than we now are." The admiral's own letters at this time make little allusion to the measures, or the neglects, which were rapidly undermining the efficiency of the fleet; but a year after leaving England he wrote, "With all my personal regard for Lord St. Vincent, I am sorry to see that he has been led astray by the opinion of ignorant people. There is scarcely a thing he has done since he has been at the Admiralty that I have not heard him reprobate before he came to the Board."

Much as he enjoyed his home and desired peace, Nelson had never felt assured of its continuance. Like Great Britain herself during this repose, he rested with his arms at his side, ready for a call. The Prime Minister, Addington, has transmitted a curious story of the manner in which he exemplified his ideas of the proper mode of negotiating with Bonaparte. "It matters not at all," he said, taking up a poker, "in what way I lay this poker on the floor. But if Bonaparte should say it must be placed in this direction," suiting the action to the word, "we must instantly insist upon its being laid in some other one." At the same time Bonaparte, across the Channel, was illustrating in almost identical phrase the indomitable energy that was common to these two men, the exponents of the two opposing and irreconcilable tendencies of their age. "If the British ministry should intimate that there was anything the First Consul had not done, because he was prevented from doing it, that instant he would do it." "You have proved yourself too true a prophet," wrote an occasional correspondent to Nelson, "for you have said ever since the peace that it could not be of long duration." Jar after jar, as Bonaparte drove his triumphal chariot over the prostrate continent, announced the instability of existing conditions; and the speech from the throne on the 16th of November, 1802, was distinctly ominous, if vague. Nelson then seconded the address in the House of Peers, in words so characteristic of his own temper, and of that then prevailing in the nation, that they serve to explain the strong accord between him and it, and to show why he was so readily and affectionately distinguished as its representative hero. They are thus reported:—

"I, my Lords, have in different countries, seen much of the miseries of war. I am, therefore, in my inmost soul, a man of peace. Yet I would not, for the sake of any peace, however fortunate, consent to sacrifice one jot of England's honour. Our honour is inseparably combined with our genuine interest. Hitherto there has been nothing greater known on the Continent than the faith, the untainted honour, the generous public sympathies, the high diplomatic influence, the commerce, the grandeur, the resistless power, the unconquerable valour of the British nation. Wherever I have served in foreign countries, I have witnessed these to be sentiments with which Britons were regarded. The advantages of such a reputation are not to be lightly brought into hazard. I, for one, rejoice that his Majesty has signified his intention to pay due regard to the connection between the interests of this country and the preservation of the liberties of Europe. It is satisfactory to know, that the preparations to maintain our dignity in peace, are not to be neglected. Those supplies which his Majesty shall for such purposes demand, his people will most earnestly grant. The nation is satisfied that the Government seeks in peace or war no interest separate from that of the people at large; and as the nation was pleased with that sincere spirit of peace with which the late treaty was negotiated, so, now that a restless and unjust ambition in those with whom we desired sincere amity has given a new alarm, the country will rather prompt the Government to assert its honour, than need to be roused to such measures of vigorous defence as the exigency of the times may require."

During the winter, Bonaparte, resentful of Great Britain's claim to a voice in the politics of the Continent, became more and more distinctly menacing in deed and word. On the 20th of February, 1803, in a message to the legislature, he made the imprudent, because useless, vaunt, "This government says with just pride, England, alone, cannot to-day contend against France." Two days later Minto, who was in opposition, was told by Nelson, "in strict confidence," that for some time back there had been great doubts between peace and war in the ministry. "One measure in contemplation has been to send him to the Mediterranean, by way of watching the armament and being ready if wanted. He says that he is thought the fitter for that delicate service, as on the one hand he wishes the continuance of peace, and therefore is not likely to precipitate matters, and on the other hand Bonaparte knows that if he hoists his flag it will not be in joke." It had for some time been arranged that, if war came, he was to have the Mediterranean command.

On the 8th of March, 1803, the King sent a message to Parliament, that, in consequence of military preparations going on in the ports of France and Holland, he judged expedient to adopt additional measures of precaution for the security of his dominions. While this was under discussion in the Upper House, Nelson, impressed with the idea that war must come, left his seat, and wrote to the Prime Minister the following line: "Whenever it is necessary, I am your Admiral." Yet he felt the tug at his heartstrings as he never had before. "War or Peace?" he writes to his old flag-captain, Berry. "Every person has a different opinion. I fear perhaps the former, as I hope so much the latter." Only with large reservations would he now have repeated the rule Codrington tells us he inculcated,—"that every man became a bachelor after passing the Rock of Gibraltar, and he was not very tardy in showing that he practised what he preached. Honour, glory and distinction were the whole object of his life, and that dear domestic happiness never abstracted his attention." He did, indeed, rail at marriage[57] during his last cruise, now fast approaching; but his passionate devotion to Lady Hamilton, and his yearning for home, knew no abatement. Yet, through all and over all, the love of glory and the sense of honor continued to the last to reign supreme. "Government cannot be more anxious for my departure," he tells St. Vincent, "than I am, if a war, to go."

Meantime the necessary preparations were quietly progressing, while the diplomatic discussions with France became more and more bitter and hopeless, turning mainly on the question of Malta, though the root of the trouble lay far deeper. The "Victory," of a hundred guns, was named for Nelson's flag, her officers appointed, and the ship commissioned. On the 6th of May he received orders to prepare for departure. On the 12th the British ambassador left Paris, having handed in the Government's ultimatum and demanded his passports. On the 16th Great Britain declared war against France, and the same day Nelson at the Admiralty received his commission as commander-in-chief in the Mediterranean. Within forty-eight hours he joined the "Victory" at Portsmouth, and on the 20th sailed for his station.

Thus ended the longest period of retirement enjoyed by Nelson, from the opening of the war with France, in 1793, until his death in 1805. During it, besides the separation from Lady Nelson, two great breaks occurred in his personal ties and surroundings. His father died at Bath on the 26th of April, 1802, at the age of seventy-nine. There had been no breach in the love between the two, but it seems to the author impossible to overlook, in the guarded letters of the old man to his famous son, a tinge of regret and disapproval for the singular circumstances under which he saw fit to live. That he gladly accepted the opinion professed by many friends, naval and others, and carefully fostered by the admiral, that his relations with Lady Hamilton were perfectly innocent, is wholly probable; but, despite the usual silence concerning his own views, observed by himself and Nelson, two clues to his thought and action appear in his letters. One is the remark, already quoted, that gratitude required him to spend some of his time with Lady Nelson. The other, singular and suggestive, is the casual mention to Nelson that he had received an anonymous letter, containing "severe reproaches for my conduct to you, which is such, it seems, as will totally separate us."[58] There is no record that he permitted himself to use direct expostulation, and it seems equally clear that he would not, by any implication, manifest approval or acquiescence. It has been said, indeed, but only upon the authority of Lady Hamilton, that it was his intention to take up his residence entirely at Merton, with the admiral and the Hamiltons; an act which would have given express countenance to the existing arrangements, and disavowed, more strongly than any words, the bearing imputed to him by the anonymous letter. In whose interest would such a letter most likely be penned? Nelson mourned him sincerely, but was prevented by illness from being present at the funeral. He is a man known to us only by his letters, which are marked by none of the originality that distinguishes the professional utterances of the admiral, and cannot be said to rise much above the commonplace; but they show a strong and unaffected piety, and particularly a cheerful, resolute, acceptance of the infirmities of protracted old age, which possesses charm and inspires respect. There is also a clear indication of the firmness that characterized Nelson himself, in the determination, amid all the feebleness of age, and notwithstanding his pride and love for his famous son, upon whom, too, he was partially dependent, that he would not join in the general abandonment of the wife by the husband's family. His attitude in this regard, as far as can be inferred from his letters, commands sympathy and admiration.

A year later, on the 6th of April, 1803, Sir William Hamilton also died, "in Lady Hamilton's and my arms," wrote Nelson, "without a sigh or a struggle. The world never lost a more upright and accomplished gentleman." Lady Hamilton, with ready tears, recorded: "Unhappy day for the forlorn Emma. Ten minutes past ten dear blessed Sir William left me." The grouping of figures and emotions at that death-bed was odd almost beyond comprehension; one of the most singular studies which human nature has presented to itself of its powers of self-cajolement. A man systematically deceived, yet apparently sincerely regarded, and affectionately tended to the last by his betrayers, one of whom at least prided himself, and for the most part not unjustly, upon his fidelity to his friends. Hamilton, alone among the three, seems to have been single-minded—to have viewed their mutual relations to the end, not with cynical indifference, but with a simplicity of confidence hard to be understood in a man of his antecedents. It may have been, however, that he recognized the inevitable in the disparity of years and in his wife's early training, and that he chose to cover her failings with a self-abnegation that was not without nobility. Upon such a tacit affirmation he set a final seal in a codicil to his will, well calculated to silence those who saw scandal in the association between his wife and his friend. "The copy of Madam Le Brunn's picture of Emma, in enamel, by Bone, I give to my dearest friend Lord Nelson, Duke of Bronte, a very small token of the great regard I have for his Lordship, the most virtuous, loyal, and truly brave character I ever met with. God bless him, and shame fall on those who do not say amen."

Sir William's death, by withdrawing the husband's countenance to Nelson's remaining under the same roof, might have complicated matters for the two lovers, but the outbreak of war necessitated the admiral's departure a month later. When he returned to England for the last time, in August, 1805, he was, deservedly, the object of such widespread popular devotion, and his stay was so short, that the voice of censure was hushed amid the general murmur of affectionate admiration. The noble qualities of the man, the exalted spirit of self-sacrifice and heroic aspiration that breathed in his utterances, and was embodied, not only in his brilliant deeds, but in the obscure, patient endurance of the last two years, evoked a sentiment which spread over him and her a haze of tender sympathy that still survives. In the glory of Trafalgar, in his last touching commendation of her and his child to the British Government, in the general grief of the nation, there was justly no room to remember their fault; both acquaintance and strangers saw in her only the woman whom he loved to the end. The sisters of Nelson, women of mature years and irreproachable character, maintained a correspondence with Lady Hamilton during their lives; long after his death, and the departure of his influence, removed any interested motive for courting her friendship. Between them and Lady Nelson, on the other hand, the breach was final. Their occasional mention of her is unfriendly, and upon the whole contemptuous; while she, as far as can be judged from their letters, returned to them an equal measure of disdain.

FOOTNOTES:

[39] Josiah Nisbet, her son.

[40] Nelson's eldest brother. There appear to have been two copies of this letter in Nelson's hand. One, of which the latter half only remains, is in the British Museum. It bears the endorsement of Lady Nelson, as given. The other copy, entire, is in the Alfred Morrison collection—Number 536. Nelson probably sent a copy to Lady Hamilton to satisfy her exigencies that the breach was final. The two correspond, word for word,—as far, that is, as the former remains. Maurice Nelson died in April, 1801.

[41] Nelson several times spoke of Nisbet's early promise. The author is indebted to Mrs. F.H.B. Eccles, Nisbet's granddaughter, for a copy of the following letter from St. Vincent to his sister Mrs. Ricketts:—

LONDON, January 22, 1807.

My dear sister,—Upon reflexion it appears best to send you the only letters I can find relative to Captain Nisbet, and to authorize you to assert in my name that Lord Nelson assured me that he owed his life to the resolution and admirable conduct of his stepson, when wounded at Teneriffe, and that he had witnessed many instances of his courage and enterprise. Yours most affectionately,

ST. VINCENT.

This letter explains how St. Vincent, feeling the value of Nelson's life to the country, granted, in the still warm memories of Teneriffe, a promotion which must have been sorely against his judgment.

[42] Nicolas, vol. vii. Addenda, p. ccix. In a letter to Lady Hamilton of the same date, Nelson says: "Read the enclosed, and send it if you approve. Who should I consult but my friends?" (Morrison, vol. ii. p. 142.) Whether the enclosed was this letter to Davison cannot be said; but it is likely. Compare foot-note, preceding page.

[43] Nelson.

[44] Lady Nelson.

[45] Morrison, vol. ii. p. 137.

[46] On the 21st of September, 1802, six months before Hamilton's death, he was still L1,200 in Nelson's debt. (Morrison, vol. ii. p. 404.)

[47] Morrison, No. 684.

[48] Ante, p. 43.

[49] From Mr. G. Lathora Browne's "Nelson: His Public and Private Life," London, 1891, p. 412.

[50] Naval Chronicle, vol. xxxvii. p. 445.

[51] Life of Rev. A.J. Scott, D.D., p. 191.

[52] Nicolas, vol. iv. p. 533.

[53] Ibid., vol. vii. p. ccx. Author's italics.

[54] Ibid., vol. v. p. 60.

[55] It is possible that Nelson here used the word "reflect" in the primary sense of reflecting honor; but in the secondary sense of being a reflection upon those who had denied a just claim, the phrase, ambiguous as it stands, represented accurately his feelings. "I own, my dear Sir," he said again to the Premier, with reference to this decoration, "great as this honour will be, it will have its alloy, if I cannot at the same time wear the medal for the Battle of Copenhagen, the greatest and most honourable reward in the power of our Sovereign to bestow, as it marks my personal services."

[56] See Pettigrew, vol. ii. p. 225; Morrison, vol. ii. p. 176.

[57] This habit is mentioned by Captain James Hillyar, for extracts from whose journals the author is indebted to Admiral Sir W.R. Mends, G.C.B.

[58] Morrison Collection, No. 632, October 8, 1801.



CHAPTER XIX.

COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF IN THE MEDITERRANEAN.—THE LONG WATCH OFF TOULON.—OCCUPATIONS OF A COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF.

MAY, 1803—JANUARY, 1805. AGE, 45-46.

When Nelson, after a three years' absence, returned to the Mediterranean in 1803, he found the conditions, upon which the military balance of power there depended, greatly altered from those he had known during the period of his previous service. He had been present, indeed, almost an eye-witness, at the tremendous reverse associated with the name of Marengo, for that battle, it will be remembered, was fought while he was at Leghorn on his return to England; but Marengo, and the conventions following it, were at the moment only the beginning of an end which then could not be foreseen.

The most significant token of the entire change of conditions—of the predominant, far-reaching, and firmly fastened grip of France on the land—was the presence of an army corps of fifteen thousand men in the extreme southeast of Italy, occupying the Kingdom of Naples from the river Ofanto, on the Adriatic coast, round to the Bradano on the Gulf of Taranto, and including the useful ports of Brindisi and Taranto. This distant and ex-centric extension of the arms of the Republic bespoke Bonaparte's confidence in the solidity of his situation in the South of Europe; for under previous circumstances, even after his victorious campaign of 1796, he had always deprecated an occupation of Naples, and relied upon threats and a display of force to insure the quiescence of that state. That one of his first steps, upon the renewal of war with Great Britain, should have been to place a large body of troops in a position he once considered so exposed, shows the fulness of his conviction that upon the Continent he had, for the moment, nothing to fear from the other Great Powers. Strongly stirred as they had been by his highhanded aggressions, none as yet ventured to call him directly to account. Great Britain, the least immediately affected, had stepped into the lists, and demanded not only that aggression should cease, but that the state of the Continent should be restored as it existed when she signed the treaty of Amiens. With this requirement she maintained the war, single-handed, from May, 1803, to the autumn of 1805.

It was not without reason that Bonaparte reckoned upon the inaction of the Continent. Austria, although profoundly discontented by much he had done since the peace of Luneville, in 1801, was too thoroughly disheartened and exhausted by the unsuccessful and protracted struggle which preceded it, to be ready to renew the strife. Limited as she now was, by the treaty, to the eastern bank of the Adige, there was in Northern Italy no force to threaten the French communications, between their divisions in the valley of the Po and the one at the heel of the peninsula. Prussia, playing a double part for years back, seeking from day to day the favor of the most powerful, was wholly committed for the time to the First Consul; while Russia, although her youthful sovereign had abandoned the anti-British policy of his predecessor, remained undecided as to the general course she should pursue amid the ever-shifting perplexities of the day. Less fantastic in imagination than his insane father, Alexander I. inherited a visionary tendency, which hindered practical action, and showed itself in plans too vast and complicated for realization, even when two rulers of the overwhelming power of himself and Napoleon, at a later date, set their hands to the task. Swayed, alternately, by sympathy with the ancient order of things, which Great Britain for the moment represented, and by prospects of Russian aggrandizement, which Bonaparte dangled before his eyes, the Czar halted between two opinions, pleasing himself, meanwhile, in weaving, with associates of his own age, schemes for a general reorganization of Europe. In these the interests of Russia naturally, and quite properly, had a leading part, and not least in those seas and regions that fell within the limits of Nelson's command.

The power of the great states which lay to the northward and eastward of him being thus neutralized, Bonaparte found upon the land nothing to oppose his will, or to contest his influence, in the smaller and weaker nations to the southward and westward, close to his own doors, but isolated from the rest of Europe, except by sea—a weighty exception. Spain, reduced to virtual vassalage in the previous war, no longer even pretended to dispute his orders. She was not engaged in the present hostilities, simply because it suited him better to take a money tribute from her, and to enjoy for French ships the benevolent neutrality of Spanish ports, more necessary to them than to the British. Moreover, if Spain joined in the war, Minorca, restored to her at the peace, would be at the mercy of Great Britain, and Port Mahon, the fine haven of that island, was always a menace to Toulon. The harbors of remote Portugal, where Lisbon formerly had given powerful support to the British fleet, were now closed to it for offensive operations; and Nelson, within whose command its seaboard lay, was strictly enjoined to refrain from any such use of them, even from sending in prizes, except under stress of weather. In Italy, Piedmont had been incorporated with France, while the Italian and Ligurian (Genoa) Republics in the North were so identified with her in action, and so submissive to her, that the capture of the latter's ships was at once ordered by Nelson; and he recommended to his Government that a formal blockade should be proclaimed of her ports, as well as of Leghorn, where the French flag was flown on the same staff as the Tuscan. The States of the Pope, intermediate between these tributaries of Bonaparte in the North and his garrisoned province in Naples, enjoyed only such precarious independence as he from day to day allowed. But, mighty as was the growth of French ascendency, as shown by these changes, the very advantages accruing to France from her advanced maritime positions laid her further open to the Sea Power of Great Britain. The neutrality of Genoa and Tuscany could no longer embarrass the British admiral, as it had Nelson in 1795 and 1796. Offensive operations against them were now merely a question of adequate force, and the South of France depended greatly upon free access to their ports. Taking Piedmont from the King of Sardinia, too, relieved any scruples the British might have concerning their use of the island of Sardinia injuring a friendly monarch, a consideration which kept them away from Sicily.

Nelson, instructed by the experience and observation of the recent past, and by a certain prescient sagacity which was at once native and cultivated in him, recognized that the Mediterranean, with its immense indented coast line, its positions of critical importance,—such as the Straits of Gibraltar and the Bosphorus, Egypt and Malta,—and its comparatively short water distances, was the field of operations to which the maritime ambitions of Bonaparte, debarred a wider flight by the sea-power of Great Britain, must inevitably incline. To this contributed also its remoteness from England, as well as its nearness to France and to the ports subject to her influence in Italy and Spain; while the traditional ambitions of French rulers, for three centuries back, had aspired to control in the Levant, and had regarded Turkey for that reason as a natural ally. It was, therefore, not merely as magnifying his own office, nor yet as the outcome of natural bias, resulting from long service in its waters, that Nelson saw in the Mediterranean the region at once for defence and offence against Bonaparte; where he might be most fatally checked, and where also he might be induced most surely to steps exhaustive to his strength. This conviction was, indeed, rather an instance of accurate intuition than of formulated reasoning. Clear, ample, and repeated, as are his demonstrations of the importance of the various positions at stake, and of the measures necessary to be taken, they rather apply to the necessities of the moment than indicate a wide scheme of policy, which should divert the energies of the enemy to the South of Europe, and so provide the best of defences against his projected invasion of England. Yet even of such broader view tokens are not wanting. "To say the truth," he writes to the Queen of Naples, "I do not believe we had in the last war, and, according to all appearance, we shall not have in the present one either, plans of a sufficiently grand scale to force France to keep within her proper limits. Small measures produce only small results. The intelligent mind of your Majesty will readily comprehend the great things which might be effected in the Mediterranean. On this side Buonaparte is the most vulnerable. It is from here that it would be the most easy to mortify his pride, and so far humble him, as to make him accept reasonable conditions of peace."

It cannot be claimed, however, that there entered into Nelson's thoughts, for Italy, any such diversion as that by which the Spanish Peninsular War some years later drained the life blood of France. The time, indeed, was not yet ripe, nor would the scene have been in any way as favorable to Great Britain; and, moreover, so far from being ready to threaten, her energies were effectually constrained to her own defence, by the superior audacity and direct threats of Bonaparte. Even the limited suggestions for the employment of troops in the Mediterranean, made by Nelson from time to time, failed to receive attention, and he himself was left to struggle on as best he might, with inadequate means and upon a bare defensive, even in naval matters. Great Britain, in short, had stripped herself, incautiously, so bare, and was so alarmed by the French demonstrations of invasion, that she for the moment could think only of the safety of her territory and of her home waters, and her offensive operations were confined to the sea.

Bonaparte understood as fully as Nelson the importance of the Mediterranean to him. His mind was set upon the extension of France's dominion therein,—in its islands, upon its northern and southern shores, and in the East; nor was he troubled with scruples as to the means by which that object might be attained. During the short peace of Amiens, Lord Keith had felt it necessary to take precautions against the re-occupation of Corfu by the French troops; and again at a later date had stationed a ship for the same purpose at the Madalena Islands, belonging to Sardinia, which Nelson afterwards made a rendezvous for his fleet. Algiers, too, had attracted the First Consul's attention. "Algiers will be French in one year after a peace," wrote Nelson in August, 1804. "You see it, and a man may run and read; that is the plan of Buonaparte." "The Ministers of the Dey must know, that an armament at Toulon, and a large army, after the peace with Great Britain, was intended to land and plunder Algiers, which they doubtless would have effected, had not a British fleet been placed in Oristan Bay [Sardinia] to watch their motions." These and similar reasons had led the British Government to maintain the Mediterranean Squadron nearly upon a war footing during the peace. But, if Bonaparte's purpose was fixed to control the Mediterranean some day, it now was set also upon the invasion of England; and although he looked and plotted in many directions, taking long views, and neglecting no opportunity to secure advanced footholds for future uses, he had not yet reached the stage in his development when he would divide his energies between two gigantic undertakings. One at a time, and with an accumulation of force abundantly adequate to the end in view, was his policy all the days of Nelson. The Mediterranean with its varied interests was to him at this time one of several means, by which he hoped to distract British counsels and to dissever British strength; but it was no part of his design to provoke Great Britain to measures which would convert her alarm for the Mediterranean peninsulas into open war with them, or in them, compelling France either to recede from thence, or to divert thither a force that might weaken his main effort. His aim was to keep anxiety keenly alive, and to cut short the resources of his enemy, by diplomatic pressure upon neutral states, up to the last extreme that could be borne without war against them being declared, as the lesser evil; and the nearer he could approach this delicate boundary line, without crossing it, the greater his success. "I do not think a Spanish war [that is, a declaration by Spain] so near," wrote Nelson in November, 1803. "We are more likely to go to war with Spain for her complaisance to the French; but the French can gain nothing, but be great losers, by forcing Spain to go to war with us; therefore, I never expect that the Spaniards will begin, unless Buonaparte is absolutely mad, as many say he is. I never can believe that he or his counsellors are such fools as to force Spain to begin."