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England's Mistress_ The Infamous Life of Emma Hamilton - Kate Williams [163]

By Root 1497 0
the Devonshire set and, to Nelson's fury, the Prince of Wales. Even when she was up to her ears in boxes moving to Merton, Nelson fulminated about "that fellow's wanting you for his mistress, but I know your virtue too well to be the whore of any rank stinking king's evil; the meanness of the titled pimps does not suprize me in these degenerate days. I suppose he will try to get at Merton, as it lays in the road, I believe, to Brighton; but I am sure you will never let them in." Her ebullient guests were high-stake gamblers at faro and hazard. By the end of the year, her banker Thomas Coutts informed her that the balance in her account was an unacceptably low twelve shillings and eleven pence.

The Morning Chronicle reported Nelson's birthday party in breathless detail, rhapsodizing about Lady Hamilton's singing. Emma spent over £60 a week on food alone, and coal, wines, candles, and decorations cost her hundreds a year.5 She was expected to set trends not only in fashion, acting, and dance but also in entertaining, balls, table decoration, and dining. As the Oracle reported in March, the exotic delicacy of sows' udders from Sicily had arrived at the Customs House in London and "The Lady of a celebrated Antiquarian has lately imported a large quantity, flattering herself that their salubrious effects will ever continue her the blooming goddess of health."6

By the autumn of 1803, the Peace of Amiens was disintegrating. Nelson expected to be back at sea in the new year. Emma knew she was about to lose him again. "I love him, adore him, his virtue, heart, mind, soul, courage," she scrawled, busily trying to organize an extravagant Christmas party for him.7 She pressed Kitty Matcham that they had "3 Boltons, 2 Nelsons, and only need two or three little Matchams to be quite en famille."8 Determined to have Horatia at Merton, she invited all the nephews and nieces to cover their daughter's presence. Nelson's family and friends expressed their pleasure in Nelson's "god-child," although the William Nelsons saw her as a potential rival as Nelson's heir and prayed there would be no son. The Children's Ball after New Year's, which continued until 3 a.m., was thrown in Horatia's honor. Now that she was nearly one, her resemblance to Nelson was striking. She behaved beautifully for her first Christmas and entranced both her father and Sir William, who, as Nelson later wrote, thought her "the finest child he had seen."


Sir William seemed to be recovering from his recent bout of ill health. In the first month of 1803, the Post spotted him and Emma enjoying a winter walk near the Serpentine, in London's Hyde Park. "Among the fashionable, Lady Hamilton was much noticed for the elegance of her dress and appearance. Her Ladyship was in plain white, with a rich white satin cloack, trimmed with ermine and lined with amber."9 In February the Hamiltons staged a grand concert at home for a hundred guests, and the newspapers reported that her performance at the pianoforte "electrified her auditors." But within a week, Sir William collapsed at 23 Piccadilly. By late March he was dying. Emma spent every night nursing him with Mrs. Cadogan, and Nelson also assisted. There was little she could do except keep her husband comfortable, but she refused to go to bed, determined to be with him through the final days. Still lucid in spite of the painkilling drugs, he instructed Greville he did not want to see a clergyman. A few days later, on April 6, he died in Emma's arms with Nelson holding his hand. "Unhappy day for the forlorn Emma," she mourned. "At ten minutes past ten, dear, blessed Sir William left me."

Her grief was real. Sir William had been her loyal partner since she was twenty-one, and her husband for twelve years. He had been the first man to treat her with respect, ignoring the judgment of his family and friends and risking his social status to marry her for love. Although sometimes remote he had always indulged her. "I feel truly bereaved of all comfort," she wrote; "my wounds bleed afresh in writing & thinking on what I have lost in such

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