of life by meeting with Mr. Charles Fulke Greville. He was not a mere
squire, but a gentleman and a connoisseur: he so loved beauty that
when he beheld Romney’s model he longed to possess it as he would
have longed to possess a Grecian statue. In this case the matter was
negotiable: she passed from the studio to the bower. Mr. Greville
discovered her mental powers as well as admired her material beauty,
and he was humane enough to do--what no human being had ever thought of
doing--educate her. It came of the latest, when the tares had choked
the wheat. She progressed, indeed, rapidly in all she studied, and in
music she attained a wonderful perfection: her voice, even in speaking,
was one to melt the heart: in singing it fairly carried it off by
magic. If vanity accompanied the possession of powers such as no one
has since possessed--not even our now silent Nightingale--her apology
is in her course of life, for much of which others were responsible.
This vanity reached its culmination one night at Ranelagh, when,
intoxicated by the remarks flung in her way like flowers as she passed,
she electrified the entire crowd by breaking forth into song, and,
by the exercise of her unequalled vocalisation, flung uncontrollable
ecstasy over the idle public of the place. ‘Mr. Greville’ (says Dr.
Pettigrew, in his interesting ‘Sketch of Lady Hamilton’) ‘had gone
farther than he intended, and became alarmed at her fondness for
admiration, and ventured to reproach her for her indiscretion. She
retired to her room, threw off the elegant attire in which she was
clothed, and, presenting herself before him in a plain cottage dress,
proposed to relieve him of her presence. This act, however, served
only the more securely to bind him in his chains, and a reconciliation
took place.’ It is reported that three children were the fruit of
this connection; but there is a letter from Nelson to Lady Hamilton
extant, which, if it does not prove the contrary, shows at least that
Nelson knew nothing of it--a not likely circumstance if the alleged
fact were one in reality. However this may be, Dr. Pettigrew adds, ‘In
the splendid misery in which she lived she hastened to call to her her
mother, to whom she was through life most affectionate and attentive.’
In 1789, the year of many sorrows, Mr. Greville found himself, by the
French Revolution and other accidents, a nearly ruined man. His uncle,
Sir William Hamilton, our minister at Naples, stepped in to relieve
him of many of his embarrassments--among them of the lady to whom
perhaps some of them might be traced. Dr. Pettigrew says:--‘It is only
charitable to suppose Sir William to have been ignorant of his nephew’s
connection with Emma, but there have not been wanting reports that the
condition of the engagement between Sir William and the lady was the
payment of the nephew’s debts.’ At this time Sir William was within a
year of threescore. He was neither the Pericles of his age, nor was
Emma quite the Aspasia; but when we remember the bond which bound the
great statesman and refined lover of refined art to the most beautiful
and most accomplished woman in Greece--when we remember that in his
home intellect and skill were almost deified--that to it her presence,
her powers, and even her virtues (for all were not wanting because one
was absent) gave its chiefest charm--that without her the war against
Samos would not have been a matter of history--that she inspired great
commanders, and that but for her, much eloquence would have been mute,
which, through her, fired Greece to deeds of noble daring--with these
memories about us, we say, there is much in the persons and lives of
Sir William Hamilton and his wife that reminds us of Pericles and
Aspasia, even down to the very circumstance that the great lawgiver
took the courtesan to wife after she had been his mistress.
Dr. Pettigrew thus describes Sir William himself:--
Sir William Hamilton was a native of Scotland, born in 1730, and
was Minister at Naples for the long period of thirty-six years.
He was a distinguished antiquary, remarkable for his taste in,
and appreciation of, the fine arts. He possessed also scientific
acquirements, and had some knowledge of mineralogy: he was a
Trustee of the British Museum, Fellow of the Royal Society, and
a Vice-President of the Society of Antiquaries: he was also a
distinguished member of the Dillettanti Club, and appears among
their portraits in their meeting-room at the Thatched House
Tavern. A portrait of him, by Sir Joshua Reynolds, one of his
intimate friends, may be seen in the National Gallery. He is known
as an author by his works. With the King of Naples he was a great
favourite, and largely shared with him the enjoyment of the chase
and other sports, to which the sovereign is well known to have
been egregiously addicted.
Such was the sexagenarian philosopher. At this period the Aspasia
of his affections, if we may indeed use such a word, was just
five-and-twenty. She is thus limned by her biographer:--
Already familiarised to the studies of the painter, and, according
to Romney and his biographer, no mean judge of the arts, with
Sir William she had in Italy many opportunities of enjoying her
taste, of improving herself, and also of imparting knowledge.
This she is said to have practically evinced; for with a common
piece of stuff she could so arrange it and clothe herself as
to offer the most appropriate representations of a Jewess, a
Roman matron, a Helen, Penelope, or Aspasia. No character seemed
foreign to her, and the grace she was in the habit of displaying
under such representations excited the admiration of all who
were fortunate enough to have been present on such occasions.
The celebrated ‘Shawl Dance’ owes its origin to her invention;
but it is admitted to have been executed by her with a grace and
elegance far surpassing that with which it has ever been rendered
on the stage of any of our theatres. Under the tuition and
government of Sir William she improved so greatly, and obtained
such complete sway over him, that he resolved upon making her
his wife. They came to England, and on September 6, 1791, she,
writing the name of Emma Harte (an assumed name under which she
had long been known), he married her at the Church of St. George,
Hanover Square, resolving to return with her to Naples that she
might there be recognised by the Neapolitan Court. But prior to
quitting London to return to Naples she was doomed to experience
disappointment; for although she had, through the position of Sir
William Hamilton and his high connections, together with her own
attractions and accomplishments, gained admission into a very high
circle of society, she was very properly refused admission into
the Court of St. James’s, which Sir William in vain endeavoured
most assiduously to effect. In the society, however, in which she
now moved, she became distinguished for her great accomplishments;
and the dulness of fashionable life was greatly relieved by her
displays as a singer and as an actress. The admiration she excited
was universal. It is said that at first, upon the return of Sir
William Hamilton to Naples, there was some difficulty in the way
of her introduction to the Queen, not having been received at the
Court of her own country; that, however, was soon removed, and in
a short time she maintained the confidential intercourse with her
Majesty. That the Queen of Naples should have become intimately
attached to Lady Hamilton cannot be a matter of surprise when we
recollect the calamities her family had sustained by the French
Revolution. To seek consolation in the bosom of the wife of the
English Minister--the Minister of that country which almost stood
alone in its opposition to the principles and conduct of the
French Revolution--seems natural. Friendship is often created
by sympathetic associations called forth under the pressure of
affliction, and is sustained by the consolations of hope derived
from them. There are many letters in my possession from the
Queen of Naples to the Lady Hamilton breathing the most ardent
attachment, the most unbounded friendship, and expressing eternal
gratitude to her.
It was in the year 1793 that Nelson first saw this dangerous beauty.
From the period of her arrival up to this time, she appears to have
been the only source of joy and admiration to the Neapolitan Court.
The Duke of Sussex retained to the last lively recollections of her
charms, and of the effect she produced when singing with the famous
Mrs. Billington. In the eventful year last named Nelson landed at
Naples with despatches from Lord Hood. Sir William, as we have said,
on returning home after his interview with Nelson, told Lady Hamilton
that he was about to introduce to her a little man who could not boast
of being very handsome, but who would be the greatest man that England
ever produced. ‘I know it’ (said Sir William) ‘from the very few
words of conversation I have already had with him. I pronounce’ (said
the Minister) ‘that he will one day astonish the world. I have never
entertained any officer in my house, but I am determined to bring him
here: let him be put in the room prepared for Prince Augustus.’ Nelson
is stated to have been equally impressed with Sir William Hamilton’s
merits. ‘You are’ (he said) ‘a man after my own heart: you do business
in my own way. I am now only captain; but, if I live, I will be
at the top of the tree.’ The impression produced upon him by Lady
Hamilton, and her kindness towards the son of Nelson’s’ wife by her
first marriage, he thus simply describes in one of his letters:--‘Lady
Hamilton has been wonderfully kind and good to Josiah. She is a young
woman of amiable manners, and who does honour to the station to which
she is raised.’
The early attachment entertained by the Queen of Naples for Lady
Hamilton admits of ready and natural explanation. Sir William after his
marriage conducted his young bride to Naples by way of Paris, where she
was received by the ill-fated Marie-Antoinette. This unhappy queen was
sister to the Queen of Naples; and to Lady Hamilton she entrusted the
last letter she ever wrote to her scarcely less unhappy relative. The
wife of the British Minister became at once the personal friend of the
Neapolitan Queen, and her influence so great that the King himself said
of her that she had de-Bourbonised them and made them all English. It
was from this period that her patriotic mission commenced--a mission
which she carried out regardless of personal expense or personal peril,
and for the performance of which, though so great in its results, she
obtained slight acknowledgment and no recompense.
It was for no individual, but for her country solely, that she
exercised her unbounded influence when at Naples. Sir John Jervis named
her the ‘patroness of the navy;’ and when he was engaged upon the
reduction of Corsica he depended upon Lady Hamilton for despatching
to him all the necessaries he required from Naples: he subsequently
confessed that the reduction of the island was facilitated and
expedited by her aid and energy. At a time when British interests were
at stake and nearly all Europe was engaged in destroying them, she was
unceasingly wakeful to maintain and strengthen them. We had about this
time a most uncertain ally in Spain. It came to the knowledge of Lady
Hamilton that a Spanish courier had arrived at Naples with a letter
for the King: she forthwith repaired to the Queen, and so exercised
the power she possessed over even the powerful mind of that Sovereign
that she induced her to repair to the King’s cabinet and abstract
the important document from the monarch’s possession. The letter was
obtained: it was from the King of Spain himself, and it announced his
determination to break up his old alliance and to unite with France
against England. Sir William Hamilton was sick and incapable of action;
but ‘our General’s wife was now the General;’ and she further prevailed
on the Queen to allow her to take a copy of the document. This copy
she transmitted by a secure but costly method to Lord Grenville. To
effect its safe arrival cost her out of her own private purse not less
than four hundred pounds sterling. She was hardly thanked and was never
remunerated.
But ingratitude did not render her patriotism weary or unwilling: year
after year the British flag in the Mediterranean was indebted to her
for triumphs which it achieved, because without her aid the English
could not have profited even by opportunity. It must be remembered,
too, as Dr. Pettigrew justly remarks, ‘that at this period so high were
French ascendency and revolutionary principles in Naples that it was
absolutely dangerous for the British Minister to go to court.’
Her greatest service, though not her last, remains to be mentioned. It
is of that importance that it merits being mentioned in detail, and
the details are so clearly and concisely told by Dr. Pettigrew that
we cannot do better than adopt them. Never was service more greatly
needed: its having been rendered saved England, changed the aspect of
European politics, and gave to Lady Hamilton a branch of the showers of
laurel that fell to the victors at the Nile:--
In June, 1798, about three days after the French fleet had passed
by for Malta, Sir William and Lady Hamilton were awakened one
morning about six o’clock by the arrival of Captain Trowbridge
with a letter from Sir Horatio Nelson, then with the fleet lying
off the bay near to Capri, ‘requesting that the ambassador would
procure him permission to enter with his fleet into Naples or
any of the Sicilian ports to provision, water, &c., as otherwise
he must run for Gibraltar, being in urgent want; and that,
consequently, he would be obliged to give up all further pursuit
of the French fleet which he had missed at Egypt on account of
their having put into Malta.’ At this time Naples had made peace
with France, and an ambassador was resident then at Naples. One
of the stipulations of the treaty which had been entered into was
to the effect that _no more than two English ships of war should
enter into any of the Neapolitan or Sicilian ports_. However,
Sir William Hamilton called up Sir John Acton, the Minister, who
immediately convened a council at which the King was present. This
was about half-past six. Lady Hamilton went immediately to the
Queen, who received her in her bed-room: she represented to her
Majesty that the safety of the two Sicilies now depended upon her
conduct, and that should the council, as she feared that under the
circumstances they must do, decide on negative or half measures,
the Sicilies must be lost if Nelson were not supplied agreeably
to his request, by which he would be enabled to follow the great
French force which had passed in that direction only a few days
before. Nothing could exceed the alarm with which the Queen
received this intelligence: she urged that the King was in council
and would decide with his Ministers. Lady Hamilton dictated, and
the Queen wrote a positive order, ‘directed to all governors of
the two Sicilies to receive with hospitality the British fleet to
water, victual, and aid them.’ In every way this order, as Lady
Hamilton well knew, would be more respected than that which might
emanate from the King. The council did not break up until eight
o’clock, and Lady Hamilton attended Captain Trowbridge and her
husband to their residence! The faces of the King, of Acton, and
Sir William too plainly told the determination at which they had
arrived, and that _they could not then break with France_. On the
way home Lady Hamilton told Sir William and Captain Trowbridge
that she had anticipated the result and provided against it;
that, whilst they were in council debating on the application,
she had been with the Queen and had not without effect implored
her Majesty to render the aid required: she then, to his great
astonishment and delight, produced the order in question. Nothing
could exceed the gladness this occasioned. Trowbridge declared
that it would ‘cheer Nelson to ecstasy;’ and that by this means
they should be enabled to pursue and conquer the French fleet,
otherwise they must have gone for Gibraltar. Sir William Hamilton
wrote to Sir Horatio Nelson, communicating to him the formal
decision of the council; but added, ‘You will receive from Emma
herself what will do the business and procure all your wants.’
Lady Hamilton enclosed to the admiral the order, praying him ‘that
the Queen might be as little committed in the use of it as the
glory and service of the country would admit of.’ To this Nelson
replied that he received the precious order, and that if he gained
the battle it should be called hers and the Queen’s; for to Lady
Hamilton he should owe his success, as without the order their
return to Gibraltar was decided upon; but, he added, ‘I will now
come back to you crowned with laurels or covered with cypress.’
It was more especially for this service rendered when he was in his
utmost need that Nelson, while dying, recommended Lady Hamilton to
the memory and gratitude of his country. The effect of this service
we need not repeat. The British ships watered and victualled at
Syracuse, spread their huge wings in pursuit of their foe, and at
the Nile launched their heavy thunder to his destruction. On the
20th of September the triumphant squadron arrived at Naples, where
ships, officers, and men found every want supplied and every wish
anticipated. ‘But especially’ (says Dr. Pettigrew) ‘were the broken
health and wounded body of the valorous chief regarded. Nelson was
taken into the British Minister’s house, and there personally tended by
her whose sympathies had been so awakened, and by whose attentions he
was after a time restored to health.’ Her services did not terminate
here. While all at Naples were at the very high top-gallant of their
joy, Lady Hamilton induced the court to break altogether with the
French. The ambassador of the Republic was consequently dismissed with
scanty courtesy and in considerable haste. When, at a later period,
a French army marched on Naples itself and the royal family were
reduced to fly to Palermo, the chief arrangements for the safety of
the lives and properties of others were made or carried out by Lady
Hamilton: she privately removed from the palace the royal jewels and
thirty-six barrels of gold. These were marked ‘Stores for Nelson,’ and
under that device were safely shipped. Indeed, it was not till the
treasure was secured that the King consented to embark. In a despatch
to the Admiralty Lord Nelson says, ‘Lady Hamilton seemed to be an
angel dropped from heaven for the preservation of the royal family.’
To effect that preservation she was regardless of her own. On the
night in which she personally assisted the King, Queen, and children
to escape, she attended a party given by Kelim Effendi: she withdrew
from this party on foot, leaving her equipage in front of the house,
hastened to the place of meeting, conducted the royal family by a
subterranean passage to Nelson’s boat waiting to receive them, embarked
with the fugitives, and with them went before the storm that blew them
to Palermo. To accomplish this Sir William and his wife voluntarily
abandoned their entire possessions in their house at Naples: they did
not convey away one single article. The whole of their private property
was thus left behind in order to prevent discovery of their proceedings
in behalf of the royal family. The value of Lady Hamilton’s portion
thus abandoned amounted to 9,000_l._; not less than 30,000_l._’s worth
of property was sacrificed which belonged to Sir William. The virtue of
this sacrifice was the sole reward gained by those who made it.
It was in this year (1799) that Sir Alexander Ball, who held a part of
Malta, the French occupying another part, sent despatches to Nelson
at Palermo for provisions, without which he would be compelled to
surrender. Nelson was absent at his old occupation looking after the
enemies of England. Lady Hamilton opened the despatches, purchased
several entire cargoes of corn at her own risk, and forwarded them to
the half-starved English in Malta. She expended 5,000_l._, of which
not one shilling was ever returned to her. All that she profited
thereby was in receiving the order of St. John of Jerusalem from the
Emperor Paul, Grand Master of the Knights. England owed her much and
acknowledged nothing. The Queen of Naples acted with more generosity:
she put into the hands of Lady Hamilton, on parting from her
subsequently at Vienna, a conveyance of 1,000_l._ per annum; but the
latter magnanimously destroyed the deed, remarking that ‘England was
just, and to her faithful servants generous, and that she should feel
it unbecoming to her own beloved and magnanimous Sovereign to accept of
meed or reward from any other hand.’