Memoirs of Emma, lady Hamilton, the friend of Lord Nelson and the court of Naples; (8 page)

could form a plan by which you could have a trial, and could invite her and tell her that I ought not to leave England, and that I cannot afford to go on; and state it as a kindness to me if she would accept your invitation, she would go with pleasure. She is to be six weeks at some bathing place; and when you could write an answer to this, and inclose a letter to her, I could manage it; and either by land, by the coach to Geneva, and from thence by Veturine forward her, or else by sea. I must add that I could not manage it so well later; after a month, and absent from me, she would consider the whole more calmly. If there was in the world a person she loved so well as yourself after me, I could not arrange with so much sang-froid; and I am sure I would not let her go to you, if any risque of the usual coquetry of the sex being likely to give uneasiness or appearance. . . ."

Sir William's " invitation " was to be perfectly innocent. She was to understand that her dear Greville's interest demanded a temporary separation; that she and her mother would be honoured guests at the Naples Embassy; that she could improve the delightful change of scene and climate by training her musical gifts under the best masters, by studying the arts in their motherland, by learning languages amid a cosmopolitan crowd; that by October her fairy-prince would reappear, and, like another Orpheus, bring back his Eu-rydice. And all this she was to be told, after absence, that makes the heart grow fonder, had inured her to separation, softened her heart to self-sacrifice, and reconciled her to his lightest bidding—when, in short, it would be easiest to practise on devotion. About these machinations Emma was presumably left in the dark; their windings took place behind her back. Her all-wise, all-powerful and tender Greville could never consult but for her good, while his real unselfishness

towards the child forbade any suspicion of his purpose.

To Emma his prim platitudes were the loving eloquence of Romeo. And for the last few months he had been always preaching up to her the spotless example of a certain " Mrs. Wells," refined and accomplished, who, in Emma's own situation, had earned and kept both her own self-respect and that of more than one successive admirer; who had learned the art of retaining the lover as friend, while she accepted his friend as lover. These innuendoes may well have puzzled her. Had she not realised a dream of constancy, and could that pass ? Had she not parted with the child she loved to please the man of her heart, and fasten his faith to hers? Yet all the time her dearest Greville could speak of " forwarding " her, just as if she were one of those crystals on which he doted.

The fact was that, added to his embarrassments, his need for fortune with a wife, his wish at once to oblige Sir William and to preclude him from wedlock, his genuine desire—which must be granted—to provide for Emma's future, arose the feeling that Emma herself was now too fond. It was hard to resign her; but, unless the choice was quickly made, it might become impossible ever to make it; and he might be entangled into a marriage which would hold him up to ridicule.

But for once Greville was in haste. Sir William, always leisurely, took time before he began to broach a scheme of life which filled his nephew with alarm. Greville had never doubted that, should his will prevail with Emma as well as with his uncle, the latter would sequester her in one of his villas near Naples — some Italian Edgware Row. His mind recoiled from the awful thought that she might ever dispense the honours of the Embassy. The Ambassador, however,

could not agree. He had discerned powers in this singular woman passing Greville's vision, and the connoisseur longed to call them forth and create a work of art. He lived, too, in a land where the convenances were not so rigid as in his own. Did not the bonne amie of a distinguished diplomat and Knight of Malta grace his Roman house and circle ?

Illness also made for postponement. When Greville returned to town after his summer outing, he found Emma, fresh from her sea-baths, " alarmed and dis-tress'd " over her mother's " paralysis." " It was not so severe an attack," he told his uncle in November, " as I understood it to be when I informed you of it from Cornwall. . . . You may suppose that I did not increase Emma's uneasiness by any hint of the subject of our correspondence "; " at any rate," he sighs, " it cannot take place, and she goes on so well, . . . and also improv'd in looks, that I own it is less agreeable to part; yet I have no other alternative but to marry, or remain a pauper; I shall persist in my resolution not to lose an opportunity if I can find it, and do not think that my idea of sending her to Naples on such an event arises from my consulting my convenience only. I can assure you she would not have a scarcity of offers; she has, refused great ones; but I am sure she would prefer a foreign country. ... I know that confidence and good usage will never be abused by her, and that nothing can make her giddy. I was only ten days with her when I was call'd away to be Mayor of Warwick; it was not kindly meant, but it will turn out well. I have been at the castle; I have put myself on good terms with my brother, and I think I shall keep him passive, if not interested for me in the borough. . . ."

It was not, therefore, Emma only who had grown " much more considerate and amiable." Lord War-Memoirs—Vol. 14—3

wick must be enlisted if Greville was to " stand high with both parties," and urge them into competition for his services, as he gravely proceeded to inform his uncle.

December brought Sir William's offer, and with it matured Greville's plans for the March ensuing. He would visit Scotland to retrench and profit by the lectures of Edinburgh dominies, while his " minerals " would remain his, thanks to Hamilton's generosity; Emma, she was assured, for a while only, would repair to Naples chaperoned by her mother, and the pleasant Gavin Hamilton, Romeward bound. All of them were to be couriered so far as Geneva by the Swiss Dejean; at Geneva Sir William's man Vincenzo—still his faithful servant in Nelson's day—would meet the party. For six months only Emma could cease her own course of incomparable lectures at Edgvvare Row; and a brief absence alone reconciled her to severance. A charming visit was to hasten a welcome re-union.

". . . The absolute necessity," explains the casuist once more, " of reducing every expence to enable me to have enough to exist on, and to pay the interest of my debt without parting ivith my collection of minerals, which is not yet in a state of arrangement which would set it off to its greatest advantage, occasion'd my telling Emma," with sudden artlessness, " that I should be obliged on business to absent myself for some months in Scotland. She naturally said that such a separation would be very like a total separation, for that she should be very miserable during my absence, and that she should neither profit by my conversation nor improve in any degree, that my absence would be more tolerable if she had you to comfort her, . . . as there was not a person in the world whom'she could be happy with, if I was dead, but yourself, and that she certainly would profit of your kind offer, if I should

die or slight her "—two equally improbable alternatives in Emma's purview. "... I told her that / should have no objection to her going to Naples for 6 or & months, and that if she really wish'd it I would forward any letter she wrote. . . . That she would not fear being troublesome, as she would be perfectly satisfied with the degree of attention you should from choice give her, and that she should be very happy in learning music, Italian, etc., while your avocations im-ploy'd you. ... I told her that she would be so happy that I should be cut out, and she said that if I did not come for her, or neglected her, she would certainly be grateful to you; but that neither interest nor affection should ever induce her to change, unless my interest or wish required it."

It should be noted that the previous sentences about Emma's alternatives are contradicted by those which set her down as only to be weaned from Greville by becoming a willing sacrifice to his " interest."

Enclosed was Emma's own missive. " Emboldened " by Sir William's kindness when he was in England, she recapitulated the circumstances. Greville, " whom you know I love tenderly," is obliged to go for four or five months in the " sumer " " to places that I cannot with propriety attend him to "—here surely it is Greville who dictates? She has too great a " regard for him to hinder him from pursuing those plans which," she thinks, " it is right for him to follow." As Hamilton was so good as to encourage her, she " will speak her mind." Firstly, she would be glad " to be a little more improv'd," and Greville " out of kindness " had offered to dispense with her for the few months at the close of which he would come to " fetch " her home, and stay a while there when he comes, " which I know you will be glad to see him."

He therefore proposed the ist of March for his own departure northward and hers to the south. She would be " flattered " if Hamilton will " allot " her an apartment in " his house," " and lett Greville occupye those appartments when he comes; you know that must be; but as your house is very large, and you must, from the nature of your office, have business to transact and visiters to see,"—here Greville dictates again— " I shall always keep my own room when you are better engaged, and at other times I hope to have the pleasure of your company and conversation, which will be more agreable to me than anything in Italy. As I have given you an example of sincerity, I hope you will be equaly candid and sincere in a speedy answer. ... I shall be perfectly happy in any arrangements you will make, as I have full confidence in your kindness and attention to me. . . ."

The imist in this letter leaves no doubt that the permanence of separation never crossed her mind. Greville's crystals, however, required a sacrifice, which for him she prided herself on making.

On April 26 —her birthday—she duly arrived at the Palazzo Sessa. 1 But she at once felt wretched away from the man she loved,and her sole comfort lay in forwarding his interest. " It was my birthday, and I was very low spirited. Oh God! that day that you used to smile on me and stay at home, and be kind to me— that that day I shou'd be at such a distance from you! But my comfort is that I rely upon your promise, and September or October I shall see you ! But I am quite unhappy at not hearing from you—no letter for me yet, . . . but I must wait with patience." " I dreaded," she continued later, " setting down to write, for I try to appear as chearful before Sir William as I could, and I am sure to cry the moment I think of *Then the Embassy.

you. 1 For I feel more and more unhappy at being separated from you, and if my fatal ruin depends on seeing you, I will and must at the end of the sumer. For to live without you is impossible. I love you to that degree that at this time there is not a hardship upon hearth either of poverty, cold, death, or even to walk barefooted to Scotland to see you, but what I wou'd undergo. Therefore my dear, dear Greville, if you do love me, for my sake, try all you can to come hear as soon as possible. You have a true friend in Sir William, and he will be happy to see you, and do all he can to make you happy; and for me I will be everything you can wish for. I find it is not either a fine horse, or a fine coach, or a pack of servants, or plays or operas, can make [me] happy. It is you that [h]as it in your power either to make me very happy or very miserable. I respect Sir William, I have a great regard for him, as the uncle and friend of you, and he loves me, Greville. But he can never be anything nearer to me than your uncle and my sincere friend. He never can be my lover. You do not know how good Sir William is to me. He is doing everything he can to make me happy. . . ."

Her inmost soul speaks in these sentences. They ring true, and are without question outpourings of the heart on paper bedewed with tears. Sir William was indeed kind. He wanted to wean her from one who could thus have treated her. He was never out of her sight. He gazed on her; he sighed; he praised her

1 Sir William had divined this probability the day before she arrived:—" However. I will do as well as I can and hobble in and out of this pleasant scrape as decently as I can. You may be assured I will comfort her for the loss of you as well as I am able, but I know, from the small specimens during your absence from London, that I shall have at times many tears to wipe from those charming eyes." — Morrison MS. 149, April 25, 1786.

every movement. He gave her presents and showed her all that romantic antiquity which he loved, understood, and explained so well. She had gazed on Posi-lippo, and was to revel in the villino at Caserta and the Posilippo villa, which soon bore her name. But carriage and liveries, " like those of Mrs. Darner," who had just left, a private boat, and baths under summer skies in summer seas—all these availed nothing with Greville absent. Her apartment was of four rooms fronting that enchanted bay. The Ambassador's friends dined with her, and she sang for them:— " Yes, last night we had a little concert. But then I was so low, for I wanted you to partake of our amusement. Sir Thomas Rumbold is here with [h]is son who is dying of a decline, . . . and poor young man! he cannot walk from the bed to the chair; and Lady Rumbold, like a tender-hearted wretch, is gone to Rome, to pass her time there with the English, and [h]as took the coach and all the English servants with her, and left poor Sir Thomas, with [h]is heart broken, waiting on [h]is sick son. You can't think what a worthy man he is. He dined with ous, and likes me very much, and every day [h]as brought [h]is carriage or phaeton . . . and carries me and mother and Sir William out." None the less her heart stays with Greville. She is always helping him with Sir William, whose good zvill (in both senses of that word) makes her " very happy for his sake. . . . But Greville, my dear Greville, wright some comfort to me." " Only remember your promise of October." This delusive October must have hung over Greville's head like a sword of Damocles, or Caesar's inevitable Ides of March.

The sensation of Emma's first appearance in the kaleidoscope of Naples, with its King of the Lazzaroni and Queen of the Illuminati, together with the con-