Truth has no secrets. It is the duty of the historian to reveal all and to hide nothing. The archÆologist with pick and spade unearths a buried city, disclosing alike the mansions of the wealthy and the hovels of the poor. In describing the result of his researches the investigator would betray his science were he merely to mention the beauties of the king’s palace, the tesselated pavements, the marble columns. The hideous back street must also tell its drab story, for aristocrat and plebeian are alike members of the Commonwealth.

The pen is the scalpel of history. It must neither condone nor palliate, although justice may be tempered with mercy.

Temptation came to Nelson at Naples, and he fell. Physically frail, he proved morally frail as well, but we must not unhesitatingly condemn him. Vanity caused him to stumble, and before he had time to realise the consequences a woman had sullied his reputation and tarnished his glory. Probably no reputable biographer of the great Admiral has penned the chapter dealing with this phase of his life without a wish that he could be excused from the necessity of doing so.

No sooner do we begin to investigate the relations between Nelson and Lady Hamilton than we are in a maze of perplexities. He was ill and she nursed him, he was victorious and she praised him, she was beautiful and he admired loveliness, she had a warm heart and he was susceptible, his wife was reserved and his “friend” was vivacious. The spider and the fly have their counterpart in real life. Once in the entangled meshes of the web Nelson never found his way out, even supposing he had wished to do so, which his passionate letters do not for a moment suggest.

When the Vanguard hove in sight off Naples, King Ferdinand, Sir William Hamilton, Lady Hamilton, and others went to meet “our liberator.” In writing to Earl Spencer, Nelson says, “You will not, my Lord, I trust, think that one spark of vanity induces me to mention the most distinguished reception that ever, I believe, fell to the lot of a human being, but that it is a measure of justice due to his Sicilian Majesty and the Nation. If God knows my heart, it is amongst the most humble of the creation, full of thankfulness and gratitude!” No one doubts the latter portion of the remark. Nelson always exhibited a lively trust in an All-wise Providence. The “one spark of vanity” was self-deception, although perhaps “pride” would be more correct than “vanity,” for the vain man usually distrusts his own opinion in setting great store by himself and wishes it to be confirmed by others. The Admiral was nothing if not self-reliant. Those who have read his voluminous correspondence and the memoirs of those with whom he came in contact cannot be blind to the fault of which he was seemingly in ignorance.

For instance, the writer of the “Croker Papers” furnishes us with the following particulars of the one and only occasion on which Nelson and Wellington had conversation. The latter noted the Admiral’s weak point at once:

“We were talking of Lord Nelson, and some instances were mentioned of the egotism and vanity that derogated from his character. ‘Why,’ said the Duke, ‘I am not surprised at such instances, for Lord Nelson was, in different circumstances, two quite different men, as I myself can vouch, though I only saw him once in my life, and for, perhaps, an hour. It was soon after I returned from India.35 I went to the Colonial Office in Downing Street, and there I was shown into the little waiting-room on the right hand, where I found, also waiting to see the Secretary of State, a gentleman, whom from his likeness to his pictures and the loss of an arm, I immediately recognised as Lord Nelson. He could not know who I was, but he entered at once into conversation with me, if I can call it conversation, for it was almost all on his side and all about himself, and in, really, a style so vain and so silly as to surprise and almost disgust me. I suppose something that I happened to say may have made him guess that I was somebody, and he went out of the room for a moment, I have no doubt to ask the office-keeper who I was, for when he came back he was altogether a different man, both in manner and matter. All that I had thought a charlatan style had vanished, and he talked of the state of this country and of the aspect and probabilities of affairs on the Continent with a good sense, and a knowledge of subjects both at home and abroad, that surprised me equally and more agreeably than the first part of our interview had done; in fact, he talked like an officer and a statesman. The Secretary of State kept us long waiting, and certainly, for the last half or three-quarters of an hour, I don’t know that I ever had a conversation that interested me more. Now, if the Secretary of State had been punctual, and admitted Lord Nelson in the first quarter of an hour, I should have had the same impression of a light and trivial character that other people have had, but luckily I saw enough to be satisfied that he was really a very superior man; but certainly a more sudden and complete metamorphosis I never saw.’”

To sum up the whole matter. Pride, or vanity if you prefer it, laid Nelson open to the great temptation of his life, and it assailed him at a time when he was ill and suffering. He was by nature sympathetic and grateful, and could not fail to be impressed by the ministrations of Lady Hamilton during his sickness, any less than by her flattery—a hero-worship which may, or may not, have been sincere on her part.

Josceline Percy, who was on the Victory in the trying times of 1803, has some sage remarks to offer in this matter. Though the Christian faith “did not keep him from the fatal error of his life,” Percy says, “it ought to be remembered that few were so strongly tempted, and I believe it may safely be affirmed that had Nelson’s home been made to him, what a wife of good temper and judgment would have rendered it, never would he have forsaken it.”

The candid friend, though seldom loved, is oftentimes the best friend. Nelson was warned of his mad infatuation for Lady Hamilton by more than one person who desired to save him from himself, but the fatal spell which she exerted upon him held him beyond reclamation.

On meeting the Admiral Lady Hamilton fainted away, and we find the hero writing to his wife that “she is one of the very best women in this world; she is an honour to her sex. Her kindness, with Sir William’s, to me, is more than I can express: I am in their house, and I may now tell you, it required all the kindness of my friends to set me up.” A week or so later, he says, “The continued kind attention of Sir William and Lady Hamilton must ever make you and I love them, and they are deserving the love and admiration of all the world.”

We must now return to the scene of the tragedy. Italy was in a turmoil. Berthier had appeared before Rome, the aged Pontiff had been dragged from his palace and sent into Tuscany, a Republic set up, and an offensive and defensive alliance entered into with Revolutionary France. By his placing the citadel of Turin in the hands of the all-conquering nation for “security” the King of Sardinia became a mere State-prisoner. These events in the North naturally caused trepidation in the kingdom of Naples, and Ferdinand wisely secured the assistance of Austria. The news of the French defeat at the Nile, more especially the presence of the victor, caused the war party—of which Queen Maria Carolina and Lady Hamilton were the leaders—to forget that mere enthusiasm, although a valuable asset, was not the sole requisite in a campaign, especially when the enemy to be met was one so formidable as the victorious French. Naples was for up and doing, regardless of the consequences. She sowed the storm and reaped the whirlwind by reason of her undue haste in taking up arms before everything was ready for the conflict. There is perhaps some excuse for her Majesty’s eagerness. Sister of the ill-fated Marie Antoinette, who had perished on the scaffold, and “truly a daughter of Maria Theresa,”36 as Nelson averred, she wished to be avenged. Lady Hamilton on her part had become the confidential friend of Her Majesty and had rendered certain services to the Neapolitan and English Courts which she afterwards grossly exaggerated in an endeavour to secure a competence for herself. Nelson is not undeserving of censure for having forced the issue. He quoted Chatham’s dictum, “The boldest measures are the safest,” to Lady Hamilton, and told her that should “this miserable ruinous system of procrastination be persisted in, I would recommend that all your property and persons are ready to embark at a very short notice.”

Nelson’s instructions were to provide for the safety of the Sicilian kingdom, “the cutting off all communication between France and Egypt,” and “the co-operating with the Turkish and Russian Squadrons which are to be sent into the Archipelago.” In addition he was to blockade Malta. He delegated the last duty to Captain Ball, who, with four ships, was to cruise off the island in company with a Portuguese squadron under the Marquis de Niza. Of General Mack, who commanded the Neapolitan army, Nelson at first entertained a favourable opinion. With delightful naÏvetÉ he informed St Vincent, “I have endeavoured to impress the General with a favourable impression of me, and I think have succeeded. He is active and has an intelligent eye, and will do well, I have no doubt.” But something more than these estimable qualities was necessary, as the total failure of the campaign was to prove.

Mack was then forty-six years of age, and had served under Field-Marshal Loudon, the most formidable soldier against whom Frederick the Great had fought. He was not a brilliant soldier, although he had acquitted himself with honour in the campaign of 1793. The son of a minor official, Mack had found it difficult to obtain promotion in a service dominated by the aristocracy, and he was certainly unpopular, which was not to his advantage in the field. He had accepted his present service in an army which he called “the finest in Europe,” but which was scarcely more than a rabble, at the request of the Empress. Nelson, in a burst of enthusiasm, referred to it as “composed of 30,000 healthy good-looking troops,” and “as far as my judgment goes in those matters, I agree, that a finer Army cannot be.” The optimistic told themselves that Nelson had banished Napoleon and the finest warriors of France, which was correct, and prophesied that the scattered Republican army in Italy would be as completely overwhelmed as was the French fleet in Aboukir Bay. In this they were grievously mistaken. Instead of concentrating his forces and striking a decisive blow, the Austrian commander saw fit to divide them, with the result that although the Eternal City was occupied and Tuscany entered, the French succeeded in defeating three of the five columns. After a series of reverses, Mack retreated, Ferdinand fled, and Rome was retaken.

Nelson’s part in this unfortunate undertaking was to convey some 5,000 troops to Leghorn and effect a diversion in the rear of the enemy by taking possession of the aforementioned port. When this was done, and the cannon and baggage landed, Nelson returned to Naples. The story of the campaign, which ended in disaster and the creation of the Parthenopeian Republic37 at Naples, does not concern us. Suffice it to say that in the last month of 1798 King Ferdinand and his Court concluded that they would be safer under Nelson’s protection than in the Capital. They therefore embarked in the British fleet on the night of the 21st December, whence they were taken to Palermo. The circumstances and manner of the enforced retreat are described at length in the Admiral’s despatch to the Earl of St Vincent, which runs as follows:—

“... For many days previous to the embarkation it was not difficult to foresee that such a thing might happen, I therefore sent for the Goliath from off Malta, and for Captain Troubridge in the Culloden, and his Squadron from the north and west Coast of Italy, the Vanguard being the only Ship in Naples Bay. On the 14th, the Marquis de Niza, with three of the Portuguese Squadron, arrived from Leghorn, as did Captain Hope in the Alcmene from Egypt: from this time, the danger for the personal safety of their Sicilian Majesties was daily increasing, and new treasons were found out, even to the Minister of War. The whole correspondence relative to this important business was carried on with the greatest address by Lady Hamilton and the Queen, who being constantly in the habits of correspondence, no one could suspect. It would have been highly imprudent in either Sir William Hamilton or myself to have gone to Court, as we knew that all our movements were watched, and even an idea by the Jacobins of arresting our persons as a hostage (as they foolishly imagined) against the attack of Naples, should the French get possession of it.

“Lady Hamilton, from this time to the 21st, every night received the jewels of the Royal Family, &c., &c., and such clothes as might be necessary for the very large party to embark, to the amount, I am confident, of full two millions five hundred thousand pounds sterling. On the 18th, General Mack wrote that he had no prospect of stopping the progress of the French, and entreated their Majesties to think of retiring from Naples with their august Family as expeditiously as possible. All the Neapolitan Navy were now taken out of the Mole, consisting of three Sail of the Line and three Frigates: the seamen from the two Sail of the Line in the Bay left their Ships and went on shore: a party of English seamen with Officers were sent from the Vanguard to assist in navigating them to a place of safety. From the 18th, various plans were formed for the removal of the Royal Family from the palace to the water-side; on the 19th, I received a note from General Acton,38 saying, that the King approved of my plan for their embarkation; this day, the 20th and 21st, very large assemblies of people were in commotion, and several people were killed, and one dragged by the legs to the palace. The mob by the 20th were very unruly, and insisted the Royal Family should not leave Naples; however, they were pacified by the King and Queen speaking to them.

“On the 21st, at half-past 8 P.M., three Barges with myself and Captain Hope, landed at a corner of the Arsenal. I went into the palace and brought out the whole Royal Family, put them into the Boats, and at half-past nine they were all safely on board the Vanguard, when I gave immediate notice to all British Merchants that their persons would be received on board every and any Ship in the Squadron, their effects of value being before embarked in the three English transports who were partly unloaded, and I had directed that all the condemned provisions should be thrown overboard, in order to make room for their effects. Sir William Hamilton had also directed two Vessels to be hired for the accommodation of the French emigrants,39 and provisions were supplied from our Victuallers; in short, everything had been done for the comfort of all persons embarked.

“I did not forget in these important moments that it was my duty not to leave the chance of any Ships of War falling into the hands of the French, therefore, every preparation was made for burning them before I sailed; but the reasons given me by their Sicilian Majesties, induced me not to burn them till the last moment. I, therefore, directed the Marquis de Niza to remove all the Neapolitan Ships outside the Squadron under his command, and if it was possible, to equip some of them with jury masts and send them to Messina; and whenever the French advanced near Naples, or the people revolted against their legitimate Government, immediately to destroy the Ships of War, and to join me at Palermo, leaving one or two Ships to cruize between Capri and Ischia in order to prevent the entrance of any English Ship into the Bay of Naples. On the 23rd, at 7 P.M., the Vanguard, Sannite, and Archimedes, with about twenty sail of Vessels left the Bay of Naples; the next day it blew harder than I ever experienced since I have been at sea. Your Lordship will believe that my anxiety was not lessened by the great charge that was with me, but not a word of uneasiness escaped the lips of any of the Royal Family. On the 25th, at 9 A.M., Prince Albert, their Majesties’ youngest child, having eat a hearty breakfast, was taken ill, and at 7 P.M. died in the arms of Lady Hamilton; and here it is my duty to tell your Lordship the obligations which the whole Royal Family as well as myself are under on this trying occasion to her Ladyship.... Lady Hamilton provided her own beds, linen, &c., and became their slave, for except one man, no person belonging to Royalty assisted the Royal Family, nor did her Ladyship enter a bed the whole time they were on board. Good Sir William also made every sacrifice for the comfort of the august Family embarked with him. I must not omit to state the kindness of Captain Hardy and every Officer in the Vanguard, all of whom readily gave their beds for the convenience of the numerous persons attending the Royal Family.

“At 3 P.M., being in sight of Palermo, his Sicilian Majesty’s Royal Standard was hoisted at the main-top gallant-mast head of the Vanguard, which was kept flying there till his Majesty got into the Vanguard’s barge, when it was struck in the Ship and hoisted in the Barge, and every proper honour paid to it from the Ship. As soon as his Majesty set his foot on shore, it was struck from the Barge. The Vanguard anchored at 2 A.M. of the 26th; at 5, I attended her Majesty and all the Princesses on shore; her Majesty being so much affected by the death of Prince Albert that she could not bear to go on shore in a public manner. At 9 A.M., his Majesty went on shore, and was received with the loudest acclamations and apparent joy.”

Alas, that one has to admit that while Lady Hamilton was the “slave” of the Sicilian Royal Family, Nelson was rapidly becoming so infatuated that the same word might be used to describe his relationship with “our dear invaluable Lady Hamilton”! He also seems to have had an exaggerated sense of the importance of the princely personages who had placed themselves under his protection. In his letters he speaks of “The good and amiable Queen,” “the great Queen,” and so on. “I am here,” he writes to Captain Ball, of the Alexander, dated Palermo, January 21st, 1799, “nor will the King or Queen allow me to move. I have offered to go to Naples, and have wished to go off Malta in case the Squadron from Brest should get near you, but neither one or the other can weigh with them.” To Earl Spencer he confides on the 6th March, “In Calabria the people have cut down the Tree of Liberty; but I shall never consider any part of the Kingdom of Naples safe, or even Sicily, until I hear of the Emperor’s entering Italy, when all my Ships shall go into the Bay of Naples, and I think we can make a Revolution against the French—at least, my endeavours shall not be wanting. I hope to go on the service myself, but I have my doubts if the King and Queen will consent to my leaving them for a moment.” On the 20th of the same month he tells St Vincent very much the same thing. “If the Emperor moves, I hope yet to return the Royal Family to Naples. At present, I cannot move. Would the Court but let me, I should be better, I believe; for here I am writing from morn to eve: therefore you must excuse this jumble of a letter.”

And after evening what? Rumour, not altogether devoid of fact, told strange tales of gambling continued far into the night, of money made and money lost, of an insidious enchantment which was beginning to sully the fair soul of Britain’s greatest Admiral. How far the influence of Lady Hamilton led Nelson to neglect his duty is a debatable point. Admiral Mahan points out that on the 22nd October 1798, Nelson wrote to Lord St Vincent to the effect that he had given up his original plan, “which was to have gone to Egypt and attend to the destruction of the French shipping in that quarter,” owing to the King’s desire that he should return to Naples, after having arranged the blockade of Malta. This and similar expressions, says Mahan, “show the anxiety of his mind acting against his judgment.” The late Judge O’Connor Morris, commenting on this phase of the Hero’s career, is most emphatic in his condemnation. His connection with Emma Hamilton “kept him at Naples when he ought to have been elsewhere; it led him to disobey a superior’s orders, on one occasion when there was no excuse; it perhaps prevented him from being present at the siege of Malta. It exposed him, too, to just censure at home, and gave pain and offence to his best friends; and the consciousness that he was acting wrongly soured, in some degree, his nature, and made him morose and at odds with faithful companions in arms.” For the defence there are no more able advocates than Professor Sir J. Knox Laughton and Mr James R. Thursfield, M.A. Nelson, the former asserts, “in becoming the slave of a beautiful and voluptuous woman, did not cease to be a great commander. There is a common idea that his passions detained him at Naples to the neglect of his duty. This is erroneous. He made Naples his headquarters because he was ordered to do so, to provide for the safety of the kingdom and to take measures for the reduction of Malta.” “The point to be observed and insisted on,” Mr Thursfield says, “is that the whole of this pitiful tragedy belongs only to the last seven years of Nelson’s life.” He asks, “Why should the seven years of private lapse be allowed to overshadow the splendid devotion of a lifetime to public duty?” This authority does not deny that during the two years following the victory of the Nile Nelson’s genius “suffered some eclipse,” that his passion for Lady Hamilton was then “in its first transports, when he seemed tied to the Court of the Two Sicilies by other bonds than those of duty, when he annulled the capitulation at Naples and insisted on the trial and execution of Caracciolo,40 and when he repeatedly disobeyed the orders of Lord Keith.” He further points out that the period is the same “during which his mental balance was more or less disturbed by the wound he had received at the Nile, and his amour-propre was deeply and justly mortified by the deplorable blunder of the Admiralty in appointing Lord Keith to the chief command in succession to Lord St Vincent.” At the time with which we are now dealing the latter disturbing element was not present, although he was considerably worried by the appointment of Captain Sir Sidney Smith as commander of a squadron in the Levant, “within the district which I had thought under my command.” “The Knight forgets the respect due to his superior Officer”: Nelson tells Lord St Vincent, “he has no orders from you to take my Ships away from my command; but it is all of a piece. Is it to be borne? Pray grant me your permission to retire, and I hope the Vanguard will be allowed to convey me and my friends, Sir William and Lady Hamilton, to England.” Mr Thursfield makes no mention of this vexation, perhaps because the matter distressed the Admiral less than Lord Keith’s appointment. On the other hand, Nelson’s correspondence contains frequent reference to the gratuitous snub, which shows how deeply the iron had entered into his soul. “I do feel, for I am a man, that it is impossible for me to serve in these seas, with the Squadron under a junior Officer:—could I have thought it!—and from Earl Spencer!” is a typical instance. In the opinion of the same biographer, “the influence of Lady Hamilton, which ceased only with Nelson’s life, cannot have been the sole cause, even if it was a contributory cause, of an attitude and temper of mind which lasted only while other causes were in operation and disappeared with their cessation. The evil spirit which beset him, whatever it may have been, had been exorcised for ever by the time that he entered the Sound.41... Yet the influence of Lady Hamilton was not less potent then and afterward than it was during the period of eclipse. There are no letters in the Morrison Collection more passionate than those which Nelson wrote to Lady Hamilton at this time, none which show more clearly that, as regards Lady Hamilton, and yet only in that relation, his mental balance was still more than infirm, his moral fibre utterly disorganized.”

With this verdict the present writer is in complete accord. Nelson is to be censured for his moral breach and any neglect of duty which may be traceable to it, but to condemn him to infamy is to forget his subsequent career and to consign to the flames many other great figures of history.