Nelson's Letters
The Nelson Touch: An Anthology of Lord Nelson's Letters. By Clemence Dane. (Heinemann. z5s.) Tint great store of Nelson's letters is contained in Sir Harris Nicolas' seven volumes. They have as yet hardly been made the subject of a careful study ; they are seldom read. Mr. C. S. Fores- ter's chapter in his Nelson contains the only mature evaluation of the letters and despatches considered as revealing the Admiral's personality, and his book is essential to any real appreciation of this anthology.
Miss Dane has brought a novelist's eye to the selection of each portion of each letter. The effect is singularly vivid. The Admir- al's moods and tastes are well revealed, if not his actions. Each sentence breathes simplicity and the utter absence of self-conscious- ness. He had high histrionic talent, as is displayed in his letters to the Bashaw of Tripoli. "Buonaparte's tongue," he wrote to the Grand Vizir, " is that of a serpent oiled. Nothing shall be wanting on my part to frustrate the designs of this common disturber of the human race." Dictating swiftly in his cabin in the Vanguard' in Palermo harbour, he would give full rein to his immediate and unrealised sense of drama. "For I never believed that your High- ness would say a word that was not most strictly true: a lie is impossible for a true Mussulman to tell—at least I had always believed so." With speed and with a nervous mounting gusto he traced his sentiments. _" The Russian Admiral has a polished out- side, but the bear is close to the skin. The Turk is our brother."
In his personal contacts he would swing between a glowing hero-worship and depreciation. "I shall not talk of Sir John Orde," so began his easy, searing phrases, " who must be the richest Admiral that ever England saw. He will torment the Admiralty enough. How should he know HOW to behave: he never was at sea?" Throughout his later correspondence, with the exception of one range of letters, there is constantly this note of urgency. " The d—d Pilots have run the `Raisonnable' aground: take care of scant winds in sands." It is seen again in Nelson's exclamations when he learned that the information given him at St. Lucia as to the French Fleet was false. " Oh! General Brereton General Brereton 1" His words slipped on to the paper. It is like over- hearing conversation by turns wild and hurt and generous, and always free. Among the letters printed in this volume is an appeal to the Admiralty in favour of Captain Layman whose ship had been stranded on the Spanish coast. It is characteristic of that whole-hearted and efficacious generosity to his chosen subordinates which made Lord Nelson so beloved. The Admiral's mind had all his life a galloping romantic innocence. " Not for all the world," he wrote to Lord Spencer in connexion with the duel between the Foudroyant ' and the Guillaume Tell,' " would I rob any man of a sprig of laurel—much less my children of the Foudroyantl I love her as fond father a darling child, and glory in her deeds." He was singularly unsoiled by experience. It is not correct to des- cribe his deliberate and heroic frame of mind as childlike. Yet his petulance is that of a man who had never known the undertow of human character. It is curious that the one great figure in the English scene from whom he was collaterally descended should have been Sir Robert Walpole.
He had a warm affectionateness, unconsidered in its expression. " I beg," wrote Nelson when young Captain Parker died after the attack upon Boulogne, " that his hair may be cut off and given to me ; it shall remain and be buried with me." Miss Dane points out with accuracy that the Admiral's style was always much affec- ted by the personality of his correspondent, and it is remarkable how swiftly he became attuned to his idea of Emma Hamilton. In this anthology it is the domestic side of his passionate devotion which is most in evidence, the colloquies on the poop at Merton, the fond husbandly love, the household care. The celebrated letter from the ' Victory ' off Plymouth is printed here. " However, I have got clear of Portland, and have Cawsand Bay and Torbay under the lee. I intreat, my dear Emma, that you will cheer up: and we will look forward to many, many happy years, and be surrounded by our children's children."
Another view is presented in a note for which space is not found. " But forgive me, I know my Emma, and don't forget you ,had once a Nelson, a friend, a dear friend, but, alas! he has his misfortune. He has lost his best friend, his only friend, his only love. Don't forget him, poor fellow." Singularly limpid, and with a perfect clarity, we have in volume after volume of his letters a mirror of the personality of our greatest admiral.
DAVID MATHEW.
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