England's Mistress_ The Infamous Life of Emma Hamilton - Kate Williams [145]
In their letters, Nelson and Emma established an elaborate secret code to discuss Emma's condition. They pretended he wrote to Emma on behalf of a sailor on his ship called Thomson or Thompson, whose pregnant wife was under Emma's protection. William Hamilton became Mrs. Thompson's uncle. Since the publication of Jean-Jacques Rousseau's La Nouvelk Héloise, English aristocrats had rushed to adopt pen names to conduct their amorous correspondence, enjoying the frisson of speaking in code and pretending to be a member of the lower classes. The code of the "Thompsons" was more of a mutual thrill than a useful strategy. Firing off letters late at night, Nelson was often so carried away by feeling that he wrote "I" instead of "Thompson."
Nelson instructed his friend and prize agent, Alexander Davison, to hustle Fanny out of town. "I will stay on purpose," she protested. But Davison increased the pressure and none of Nelson's family or friends would support her, so she was forced to leave. Nelson wrote to a triumphant Emma, "Let her go to Brighton or wherever she pleases, I care not; she is a great fool and thank god you are not in the least like her." The stage was clear for Emma to give birth.
Emma locked herself in her room and crossed her fingers, praying for a boy. Only the wealthiest women, whose heirs were of paramount importance, paid for a doctor to attend a routine childbirth, but Emma paid £100 for medical services, so she must have hired a doctor, midwife, and nurse. The child was born on January 28, 1801. It was a girl. Emma was not too disappointed, for she planned to get pregnant again very quickly and give Nelson a son. Now that the baby was born, she was relieved that he was away. She did not want to risk him developing any sort of familiarity with the doctor and midwife, to whom it was evident that she was not giving birth for the first time. Nelson wanted to call the baby Emma, but she overruled him and named her Horatia. A very rare name for a girl, it was the most ridiculously obvious declaration possible that the baby was Nelson's child.
"I believe poor dear Mrs Thomson's friend will go mad with joy," bubbled the new father when he heard. He "does nothing but rave about you and her." Most men in the period were fathers by thirty. Nelson, exulting that "I never had a dear pledge of love til you gave me one," was embarking on fatherhood at forty-three.7 Surrounded by men with families of five or more, Nelson had felt self-conscious about his childlessness. Now he had proof: Fanny was infertile, not him. Bursting with glee, he suggested that his daughter should be registered as born of Johem and Morata Et-norbe, the surname being "Bronte" backward and the former anagrams of "Emma" and "Hora," with an extra "Jo" added to make it sound more like a name. It was accepted practice for astute mistresses—particularly those who had essentially obtained the status of common-law wife—to press for the establishment of a settlement for their child as soon as possible after birth. Emma did not do so because she was sure that there was no need: Nelson truly loved her and would never fail to provide for Horatia and herself.
Doctors and midwives told women to shut themselves up in their rooms for weeks after birth, keeping the fires burning high and never opening the windows. Nelson instructed her to stay in bed for a week and at home for a fortnight, but Emma wanted to reveal her victory to the nation. Defiant and triumphant, she retrieved a glamorous evening