Read Online Memoirs of Emma, lady Hamilton, the friend of Lord Nelson and the court of Naples; by 1855-1933 Walter Sydney Sichel - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: 1855-1933 Walter Sydney Sichel
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is home though 'tis ever so homely. . . . PS. —. . . I bathe Emma, and she is very well and grows. Her hair will grow very well on her forehead, and I don't think her nose will be very snub. Her eys is blue and pretty. But she don't speak through her nose, but she speaks countryfied, but she will forget it. We squable sometimes; still she is fond of me, and endead I love her. For she is sensible. So much for Beauty. Adue, I long to see you." *
Empowered by the Sultan of Edgware Row, the two Emmas, to their great but fleeting joy, were suf-
1 Morrison MS. 128. There is, of course, no conclusive evidence for identifying " little Emma" with the nameless child born early in 1782, but I can see no reason otherwise, or for supposing an earlier " Emma."
fered to return in the middle of July. Sir William and his nephew were still on their provincial tour, when Emma, who fell ill again in town, thus addressed him for the last time before his own return. It shall be our closing excerpt:—
" I received your kind letter last night, and, my dearest Greville, I want words to express to you how happy it made me. For I thought I was like a lost sheep, and everybody had forsook me. I was eight days confined to my room and very ill, but am, thank God, very well now, and a great deal better for your kind instructing letter, and own the justice of your remarks. You shall have your appartment to yourself, you shall read, wright, or sett still, just as you pleas; for I shall think myself happy to be under the seam roof with Greville, and do all I can to make it agreable, without disturbing him in any pursuits that he can follow, to employ himself in at home or else whare. For your absence has taught me that I ought to think myself happy if I was within a mile of you; so as I cou'd see the place as contained you I shou'd think myself happy abbove my sphear. So, my dear G., come home. . . . You shall find me good, kind, gentle, and affectionate, and everything you wish me to do I will do. For I will give myself a fair trial, and follow your advice, for I allways think it wright. . . . .Don't think, Greville, this is the wild fancy of a moment's consideration. It is not. I have thoughroly considered everything in my confinement, and say nothing now but what I sliall practice. ... I have a deal to say to you when I see you. Oh, Greville, to think it is 9 weeks since I saw you. I think I shall die with the pleasure of seeing you. ... I am all ways thinking of your goodness. . . . Emma is very well, and is allways wondering why you don't come home. She sends her duty to you. . . . Pray, pray come as soon as you
come to town. Good by, God bless you! Oh, how I long to see you."
It should be at once remarked that Greville conscientiously performed his promise. He put " little Emma " to a good school, and several traces of her future survive. Meanwhile, having won his point, and having also " prepared " her mind for another separation, of which she little dreamed, he came back to his bower of thankful worship and submissive meekness. He can scarcely have played often with the child, whose benefactor he was—a dancing-master, so to speak, of beneficence, ever standing in the first position of correct deportment. In August he bade farewell to his indulgent uncle, whom, indeed, he had " reason " to remember with as much " gratitude and affection " as Emma did. Romney was commissioned to paint her as the " Bacchante " for the returning Ambassador, who had reassured his nephew about the distant future. He had appointed him his heir, and offered to stand security if he needed to borrow. He had also joined Greville's other friends in advising him to bow to the inevitable and console his purse with an heiress. Whether he also had already contemplated an exchange seems more than doubtful. But the secretive Greville had already begun to harbour an idea, soon turned into a plan, and perpetually justified as a piece of benevolent unselfishness. While the
Empowered by the Sultan of Edgware Row, the two Emmas, to their great but fleeting joy, were suf-
1 Morrison MS. 128. There is, of course, no conclusive evidence for identifying " little Emma" with the nameless child born early in 1782, but I can see no reason otherwise, or for supposing an earlier " Emma."
fered to return in the middle of July. Sir William and his nephew were still on their provincial tour, when Emma, who fell ill again in town, thus addressed him for the last time before his own return. It shall be our closing excerpt:—
" I received your kind letter last night, and, my dearest Greville, I want words to express to you how happy it made me. For I thought I was like a lost sheep, and everybody had forsook me. I was eight days confined to my room and very ill, but am, thank God, very well now, and a great deal better for your kind instructing letter, and own the justice of your remarks. You shall have your appartment to yourself, you shall read, wright, or sett still, just as you pleas; for I shall think myself happy to be under the seam roof with Greville, and do all I can to make it agreable, without disturbing him in any pursuits that he can follow, to employ himself in at home or else whare. For your absence has taught me that I ought to think myself happy if I was within a mile of you; so as I cou'd see the place as contained you I shou'd think myself happy abbove my sphear. So, my dear G., come home. . . . You shall find me good, kind, gentle, and affectionate, and everything you wish me to do I will do. For I will give myself a fair trial, and follow your advice, for I allways think it wright. . . . .Don't think, Greville, this is the wild fancy of a moment's consideration. It is not. I have thoughroly considered everything in my confinement, and say nothing now but what I sliall practice. ... I have a deal to say to you when I see you. Oh, Greville, to think it is 9 weeks since I saw you. I think I shall die with the pleasure of seeing you. ... I am all ways thinking of your goodness. . . . Emma is very well, and is allways wondering why you don't come home. She sends her duty to you. . . . Pray, pray come as soon as you
come to town. Good by, God bless you! Oh, how I long to see you."
It should be at once remarked that Greville conscientiously performed his promise. He put " little Emma " to a good school, and several traces of her future survive. Meanwhile, having won his point, and having also " prepared " her mind for another separation, of which she little dreamed, he came back to his bower of thankful worship and submissive meekness. He can scarcely have played often with the child, whose benefactor he was—a dancing-master, so to speak, of beneficence, ever standing in the first position of correct deportment. In August he bade farewell to his indulgent uncle, whom, indeed, he had " reason " to remember with as much " gratitude and affection " as Emma did. Romney was commissioned to paint her as the " Bacchante " for the returning Ambassador, who had reassured his nephew about the distant future. He had appointed him his heir, and offered to stand security if he needed to borrow. He had also joined Greville's other friends in advising him to bow to the inevitable and console his purse with an heiress. Whether he also had already contemplated an exchange seems more than doubtful. But the secretive Greville had already begun to harbour an idea, soon turned into a plan, and perpetually justified as a piece of benevolent unselfishness. While the
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