dependence in this, as
well as in the practical concerns of his profession, coincided with
the opinions held by Sandy Mackay in "Alton Locke," who declared that
he would "never bow down to a bit of brains." But these independent
views alternated with weaker ones. He was as indiscreetly lavish with
his love as he was with his money; at one time he would contemptuously
defy the poisoned arrows that were darted at him, and when beset by
the sullen storm-cloud of scandal, he let fly with red-hot courage and
audaciously upheld his honour: at another time he was timid,
vacillating, and ridiculous in his attempts to avert the public eye
from his love affair and its consequence. People who knew him
intimately were aware that Horatia was his daughter, and in order to
throw them off their 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 productio