LETTER XLVII.
Victory, May 27th, 1804.
MY DEAREST EMMA,
Yesterday, I took Charles Connor on board, from the Phoebe, to try what we can do with him. At present, poor fellow, he has got a very bad eye—and, I almost fear, that he will be blind of it—owing to an olive-stone striking his eye: but the surgeon of the Victory, who is by far the most able medical man I have ever seen, and equally so as a surgeon, [says] that, if it can be saved, he will do it.
The other complaint, in his head, is but little more, I think, than it was when he first came to Deal; a kind of silly laugh, when spoken to. He always complains of a pain in the back part of his head; but, when that is gone, I do not perceive but that he is as wise as many of his neighbours.
You may rely, my dear Emma, that nothing shall be wanting, on my part, to render him every service.
Capel—although, I am sure, very kind to younkers—-I do not think, has the knack of keeping them in high discipline; he lets them be their own master too much.
I paid Charles's account, yesterday; since he has been in the Phoebe, one hundred and fifty-five pounds, fourteen shillings. However, he must now turn over a new leaf; and I sincerely hope, poor fellow, he will yet do well.
I wrote you on the 22d, through Rosas, in Spain; and I shall write, in a few days, by Barcelona: this goes by Gibraltar.
I have wrote Admiral Lutwidge; Mrs. Lutwidge must wait, for I cannot get through all my numerous letters: for, whoever writes, although upon their own affairs, are offended if they are not answered.
I have not seen young Bailey: I suppose, he is in the Leviathan. By the parcel, I see, he is in the Canopus; and I can, at present, be of no use to him.
May 30th.
Charles is very much recovered.
I write you, this day, by Barcelona. Your dear phiz—but not the least like you—on the cup, is safe: but I would not use it, for the world; for, if it was broke, it would distress me very much.
Your letters, by Swift, I shall never get back. The French Consul, at Barcelona, is bragging that he has three pictures of you from the Swift.
I do not believe him; but, what if he had a hundred! Your resemblance is so deeply engraved in my heart, that there it can never be effaced: and, who knows? some day, I may have the happiness of having a living picture of you!
Old Mother L—— is a damned b——: but I do not understand what you mean, or what plan.
I am not surprised at my friend Kingsmill admiring you, and forgetting
Mary; he loves variety, and handsome women.
You touch upon the old Duke; but, I am dull of comprehension: believing you all my own, I cannot imagine any one else to offer, in any way.
We have enough, with prudence; and, without it, we should soon be beggars, if we had five times as much.
I see, Lord Stafford is going to oppose Mr. Addington; the present ministry cannot stand.
I wish Mr. Addington had given you the pension; Pitt, and hard-hearted
Grenville, never will.
What a fortune the death of Lord Camelford gives him!
Every thing you tell me about my dear Horatia charms me. I think I see her, hear her, and admire her; but, she is like her dear, dear mother.
I am sorry, if your account of George Martin's wife is correct; he deserved a better fate. But, he is like Foley; gave up a great deal, to marry the relation of a great man: although, in fact, she is no relation to the Duke of Portland.
I wish, I could but be at dear Merton, to assist in making the alterations. I think, I should have persuaded you to have kept the pike, and a clear stream; and to have put all the carp, tench, and fish who muddy the water, into the pond. But, as you like, I am content. Only take care, that my darling does not fall in, and get drowned. I begged you to get the little netting along the edge; and, particularly, on the bridges.
I admire the seal; and God bless you, also! Amen.
The boy, South, is on board another ship, learning to be a musician. He will return soon, when he shall have the letter and money. I hope, he will deserve it; but he has been a very bad boy: but good floggings, I hope, will save him from the gallows.
Mr. Falcon is a clever man. He would not have made such a blunder as our friend Drake, and Spencer Smith. I hear, the last is coming, viâ Trieste, to Malta. Perhaps, he wants to get to Constantinople; and, if the Spencers get in, the Smiths will get any thing.
Mr. Elliot, I hear, is a candidate for it. He complains of the expence of Naples, I hear; and, that he cannot make both ends meet, although he sees no company.
The histories of the Queen are beyond whatever I have heard from Sir
William. Prince Leopold's establishment is all French. The Queen's
favourite, Lieutenant-Colonel St. Clair, was a subaltern; La Tour, the
Captain in the navy; and, another!
However, I never touch on these matters; for, I care not how she amuses herself.
It will be the upset of Acton; or, rather, he will not, I am told, stay.
The King is angry with her; his love is long gone by.
I have only one word more—Do not believe a syllable the newspapers say, or what you hear. Mankind seems fond of telling lies.
Remember me kindly to Mrs. Cadogan, and all our mutual friends; and be assured, I am, for ever, my dearest Emma, your most faithful and affectionate
NELSON & BRONTE.
George Campbell desires me always to present his best respects; and make mine to good Mr. Yonge. What can I write him? I am sure, he must have great pleasure in attending you: and, when you see Sir William Scott, make my best regards acceptable to him. There is no man I have a higher opinion of, both as a public and private character.
You will long ago have had my letter; with one to Davison, desiring he will pay for the alterations at Merton. I shall send you a letter for the hundred pounds a month, to the Bank.