genuine desire which must be granted to provide
for Emma's future, arose the feeling that Emma her-
self was now too fond. It was hard to resign her;
but, unless the choice was quickly made, it might be-
come impossible ever to make it ; and he might be en-
tangled 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 pre-
vail 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,
EMMA, LADY HAMILTON 67
could not agree. He had discerned powers in this
singular woman passing Greville's vision, and the con-
noisseur 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 War-
wick; 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 bor-
ough. . . ."
It was not, therefore, Emma only who had grown
" much more considerate and amiable." Lord War-Memoirs Vol. 14 3
68 EMMA, LADY HAMILTON
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 lec-
tures 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 faith-
ful 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 min-
erals, 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
EMMA, LADY HAMILTON 69
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 for-
ward any letter she wrote. . . . That she would not
fear being troublesome, as she would be perfectly satis-
fied 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. " Embold-
ened " 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."
70 EMMA, LADY HAMILTON
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
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 per-
manence 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 for-
warding 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.
EMMA, LADY HAMILTON 71
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 do-
ing 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.
72 EMMA, LADY HAMILTON
every movement. He gave her presents and showed
her all that romantic antiquity which he loved, under-
stood, 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 Ambassa-
dor'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 car-
riage 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 kal-
eidoscope of Naples, with its King of the Lazzaroni
and Queen of the Illuminati, together with the con-
EMMA, LADY HAMILTON 73
junctures of affairs and men first witnessed by her,
will find place in the next chapter. It was not many
months before she was to exclaim to Greville, " You do not know what power I have hear " ; before Acton, the Premier, was to rally Sir William on " a worthy and charming young lady." But now and here the
climax of her emotions, when she first fully realised
Greville's breach of faith and his real purpose in ex-
iling her, must be reached without interruption. Even
on the first of May, when his uncle told her in reply
to her solicitude for Greville's welfare, that she might command anything from one who loved them both so
dearly, " I have had a conversation this morning," she wrote, " with Sir William that has made me mad.
He speaks no, I do not know what to make of it."
Three months went by, and still no letter came, ex-
cept one to tell her how grateful was the nephew for
the uncle's care ; and still Sir William looked and lan-
guished. The truth began to dawn upon her, but even
now she dare not face, and would not believe it. At the
close of July, when Naples drowses and melts in dreamy
haze, she made her last and piteous, though spirited,
appeal. " I am now onely writing to beg of you for
God's sake to send me one letter, if it is onely a fare-
well. Sure I have deserved this for the sake of the
love you once had for me. . . . Don't despise me. I
have not used you ill in any one thing. I have been
from you going of six months, and you have wrote
one letter to me, enstead of which I have sent fourteen
to you. So pray let me beg of you, my much loved
Greville, only one line from your dear, dear hands.
You don't know how thankful I shall be for it. For
if you knew the misery I feel, o
h! your heart wou'd
not be intirely shut up against me ; for I love you with the truest affection. Don't let any body sett you
against me. Some of your friends your foes per-
74 EMMA, LADY HAMILTON
haps, I don't know what to stile them have long wisht
me ill. But, Greville, you never will meet with anyr
body that has a truer affection for you than I have,
and I onely wish it was in my power to shew you what
I cou'd do for you. As soon as I know your deter-
mination, I shall take my own measures. If I don't
hear from you, and that you are coming according to
promise, I shall be in England at Cristmass at farthest.
Don't be unhappy at that, I will see you once more for
the last time. I find life is insupportable without you.
Oh ! my heart is intirely broke. Then for God's sake,
my ever dear Greville, do write to me some comfort.
I don't know what to do. I am now in that state, I
am incapable of anything. I have a language-master,
a singing-master, musick, etc., but what is it for? If
it was to amuse you, I shou'd be happy. But, Greville,
what will it avail me? I am poor, helpless, and for-
lorn. I have lived with you 5 years, and you have
sent me to a strange place, and no one prospect but
thinking you was coming to me. Instead of which I
was told. . . . No, I respect him, but no, never. . . .
What is to become of me ? But excuse me, my heart is
ful. I tel you give me one guiney a week for every-
thing, and live with me, and I will be contented.
But no more. I will trust to Providence, and wherever
you go, God bless you, and preserve you, and may you
allways be happy ! But write to Sir William. What
[h]as he done to affront you? " 1
She awaited Greville's orders. Sir William had
commissioned still another portrait of her from Rom-
ney ; " Angelaca " was about to paint her ; she was
" so remarkably fair " that " everybody " said she
" put on red and white " ; Lord Hervey was her slave ; a foreign prince was in her train each evening; the
king was " sighing " for her. It was Greville's orders 1 Morrison MS. 152, July 22, 1786.
EMMA, LADY HAMILTON 75
for which she waited. She had just visited Pompeii
and viewed the wrecks of love and bloom and life un-
earthed by alien hands. Was here no moral for this
distraught and heaving bosom? And there that awful
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