guard he proceeded to invent a cock-and-bull story
of how he came by the child. Here is his letter
to Lady Hamilton written in the middle of 1804:
“I am now going to state a thing to you and
to request your kind assistance which, from my dear
Emma’s goodness of heart, I am sure of her acquiescence
in. Before we left Italy, I told you of the extraordinary
circumstances of a child being left to my care and
protection. On your first coming to England, I
presented you the child, dear Horatia. You became,
to my comfort, attached to it, so did Sir William,
thinking her the finest child he had ever seen.
She is become of that age when it is necessary to
remove her from a mere nurse, and to think of educating
her. I am now anxious for the child’s being
placed under your protecting wing”; a clumsy,
transparent piece of foolery, which at once confirms
its intention to mislead! But we are saved the
trouble of interpretation, for the father goes on
to write on another piece of note-paper, “My
beloved, how I feel for your situation and that of
our dear Horatia, our dear child.” It is
almost incredible that Nelson could have written such
a silly fabrication. In the early part of 1804,
Emma gave birth to another child, of which he believed
himself to be the father. He asked the mother
to call
him what she pleased (evidently he hoped
and expected a boy), but if a girl, it was to be named
Emma. It was a girl, so it was called after the
mother, but it did not live long, and the father never
saw it.
As though he thought the letter written about little
Miss Thompson (Horatia, be it understood) were not
sufficiently delusive, he sends an equally absurd
production to his niece, Charlotte Nelson, who lived
a good deal at Merton, in which he says that he is
“truly sensible of her attachment to that dear
little orphan, Horatia,” and although her parents
are lost, yet she is not “without a fortune;
and that he will cherish her to the last moment of
his life, and curse them who curse her,
and Heaven bless them who bless her.” This
solemn enthusiasm for the poor orphan puts Nelson out
of court as a cute letter-writer. The quality
of ingenious diplomacy had been left entirely out
of him, and like any one else who dallies with an art
for which they have no gift, he excites suspicions,
and more often than not discloses the very secret
he is so anxious to keep. Every line of these
letters indicates a tussle between a natural tendency
to frank honesty and an unnatural and unworthy method
of deception. Obviously, the recipient of this
precious document would have her curiosity excited
over the disingenuous tale of romance. She would
ask herself first of all, “Why should my kinsman
be so desirous to tell me that the orphan in whom
he has so fond an interest is not without a fortune?
and why should the responsibility of rearing and educating
the child have been entrusted to him, the most active
and important Admiral in the British Navy? And