Memoirs of Emma, lady Hamilton, the friend of Lord Nelson and the court of Naples; by 1855-1933 Walter Sydney Sichel
Authors: 1855-1933 Walter Sydney Sichel
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celebrating their patron, Saint Joseph; the priests their childlike "saint-humorous," San Filippo Neri; high and low alike, their civic patrons, Saints Anthony and Janu-arius, whose liquefying blood each January propitiated Vesuvius. Preaching Friars, dreaming Friars; singing, sceptical, enjoying Abbes. A country luxuriant
Si
not only with southern growths, but garlanded even in February by "banks of wild violets and tangles of wild heliotrope and sweet-peas. A spirit of Nature, turning dread to beauty, and beauty into dread.
She sits, her head leaned against her hand, and gazes through the open casement on a scene bathed in southern sun and crystal air—the pure air, the large glow, the light soil that made Neapolis the pride of Magna Grsecia. Her room—it is Goethe himself who describes it—" furnished in the English taste," is " most delightful "; the " outlook from its corner window, unique." Below, the bay; in full view, Capri; on the right, Posilippo; nearer the highroad, Villa Reale, the royal palace; on the left an ancient Jesuit cloister, which the queen had dedicated to learning; hard by on either side, the twin strongholds of Uovo and Nuovo, and the busy, noisy Molo, overhung by the fortress of San Elmo on the frowning crag; further on, the curving coast from Sorrento to Cape Minerva. And all this varied vista, from the centre of a densely thronged and clattering city.
The whirlwind of passion sank, and gradually yielded to calm, as Greville had predicted. " Every woman," commented this astute observer, resenting the mention of his name at Naples, " either feels or acts a part"; and change of dramatis personcc was necessary, he added, " to make Emma happy" and himself " free." But his careful prescription of the immaculate " Mrs. Wells" only partially succeeded. True, the elderly friend was soon to become the attached lover, and the prudential lover a forgiven friend; but he ceased henceforward to be " guide " or " philosopher," and gradually faded into a minor actor in the drama, though never into a supernumerary. She felt, as she told Sir .William, forlorn; her trust had
been betrayed and rudely shaken. What she longed for was a friend, and she could never simulate what she did not feel. 1 His gentle respect, his chivalry, contrasting with Greville's cynical taskmastership, his persuasive endearments, eventually won the day; and by the close of the year 'Emma's heart assented to his suit. Her eyes had been opened. To him she " owed everything." He was to her " every kind name in one." " I believe," she told him early in 1787, " it is right I shou'd be seperated from you sometimes, to make me know myself, for I don't know till you are absent, how dear you are to me "; she implores one little line just that she " may kiss " his " name." Sir William at fifty-six retained that art of pleasing which he never lost; and she was always pleased to be petted and shielded. Already by the opening of 1788 she had come to master the language and the society of Naples. Disobedient to his nephew, and his niece Mrs. Dickinson, who remonstrated naturally but in vain, Sir William insisted on her doing the honours, which she astonished him by managing, as he thought, to perfection. Every moment spared from visits abroad or her hospitalities in the Palazzo Sessa was filled by strenuous study at home, or in the adjoining Convent of Santa Romita. Her captivating charm, her quick tact, her impulsive friendliness, her entertaining humour, her natural taste for art, which, together with her " kindness and intelligence," had already been acknowledged by Romney as a source of inspiration; her unique " Attitudes," her voice which, under Galluci's tuition, she was now beginning " to command," even her free and easy manners when contrasted with those of the
J Cf. her very striking letter to Hamilton, Morrison MS. 163: "... Do you call me your dear friend ? . . . Oh, if I cou'd express myself! If I had words to thank you, that I may
Si
not only with southern growths, but garlanded even in February by "banks of wild violets and tangles of wild heliotrope and sweet-peas. A spirit of Nature, turning dread to beauty, and beauty into dread.
She sits, her head leaned against her hand, and gazes through the open casement on a scene bathed in southern sun and crystal air—the pure air, the large glow, the light soil that made Neapolis the pride of Magna Grsecia. Her room—it is Goethe himself who describes it—" furnished in the English taste," is " most delightful "; the " outlook from its corner window, unique." Below, the bay; in full view, Capri; on the right, Posilippo; nearer the highroad, Villa Reale, the royal palace; on the left an ancient Jesuit cloister, which the queen had dedicated to learning; hard by on either side, the twin strongholds of Uovo and Nuovo, and the busy, noisy Molo, overhung by the fortress of San Elmo on the frowning crag; further on, the curving coast from Sorrento to Cape Minerva. And all this varied vista, from the centre of a densely thronged and clattering city.
The whirlwind of passion sank, and gradually yielded to calm, as Greville had predicted. " Every woman," commented this astute observer, resenting the mention of his name at Naples, " either feels or acts a part"; and change of dramatis personcc was necessary, he added, " to make Emma happy" and himself " free." But his careful prescription of the immaculate " Mrs. Wells" only partially succeeded. True, the elderly friend was soon to become the attached lover, and the prudential lover a forgiven friend; but he ceased henceforward to be " guide " or " philosopher," and gradually faded into a minor actor in the drama, though never into a supernumerary. She felt, as she told Sir .William, forlorn; her trust had
been betrayed and rudely shaken. What she longed for was a friend, and she could never simulate what she did not feel. 1 His gentle respect, his chivalry, contrasting with Greville's cynical taskmastership, his persuasive endearments, eventually won the day; and by the close of the year 'Emma's heart assented to his suit. Her eyes had been opened. To him she " owed everything." He was to her " every kind name in one." " I believe," she told him early in 1787, " it is right I shou'd be seperated from you sometimes, to make me know myself, for I don't know till you are absent, how dear you are to me "; she implores one little line just that she " may kiss " his " name." Sir William at fifty-six retained that art of pleasing which he never lost; and she was always pleased to be petted and shielded. Already by the opening of 1788 she had come to master the language and the society of Naples. Disobedient to his nephew, and his niece Mrs. Dickinson, who remonstrated naturally but in vain, Sir William insisted on her doing the honours, which she astonished him by managing, as he thought, to perfection. Every moment spared from visits abroad or her hospitalities in the Palazzo Sessa was filled by strenuous study at home, or in the adjoining Convent of Santa Romita. Her captivating charm, her quick tact, her impulsive friendliness, her entertaining humour, her natural taste for art, which, together with her " kindness and intelligence," had already been acknowledged by Romney as a source of inspiration; her unique " Attitudes," her voice which, under Galluci's tuition, she was now beginning " to command," even her free and easy manners when contrasted with those of the
J Cf. her very striking letter to Hamilton, Morrison MS. 163: "... Do you call me your dear friend ? . . . Oh, if I cou'd express myself! If I had words to thank you, that I may
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