England's Mistress_ The Infamous Life of Emma Hamilton - Kate Williams [183]
Creditors were still pursuing Emma, but no one in high society suspected that Nelson's glamorous mistress was poor. When she emerged from mourning, she was once more at the helm of style. The classical look had slipped slightly out of favor, but after Nelson's death, the season's most sought-after look was once more "petticoat white crape, a Grecian drapery elegantly drawn up," and flat slippers, just as Emma had worn in her Attitudes.5 Everywhere she went, she took her belongings with her: the Nelson souvenirs, the relics, and most dramatically his blood-spattered coat, which servants in the houses of her guests fought to have the privilege of airing.6 Afraid of losing her friends, Emma tried to be an exciting guest. Discussing Emma's visit to town, Lady Abercorn commanded, “We hope you will not forget any of your shawls or things for attitudes.” Emma had previously experimented with different kinds of performance, and before Nelson's death, she had often refused to perform the Attitudes. Now, frantic to keep her place in high society, she had to recreate the old favorites she had perfected at twenty-six.
Dreary supper parties across London perked up when Lady Hamilton arrived. George Villiers, Hyde Earl of Clarendon asked to meet her. Delighted by “her talent and cleverness at conversation,” he encouraged Emma to describe her sea voyage from Naples to Palermo in 1799.
Her picture of the danger and horror which had surrounded her was awful almost to reality, and it was diversified by the introduction of some ludicrous incidents, which had occurred at the time, in a manner not unlike that of Shakespeare—particularly an anecdote of the pursuit of an old Duenna after her confessor, in the utmost eagerness to say a sin or two before she sank.
Since her audience seemed so interested in imitations of peasant women, Emma performed another act.
Lady Hamilton arose from table to address herself to the supposed image of the Virgin, in the character of a young Italian peasant, who wished for permission to remarry. Her shawl was adjusted as if mantling an infant, and she supplicated her patroness with every possible in-treaty… interrupted only by soothings and caresses of her child. The Saint being supposed to remain unmoved by her prayers, they were heightened into expostulations, and, at length, with an apparent impulse of forwardness, she arose and turned from the image—But, after having retired a few paces in disdain, she seemed to recollect herself, and again turned, her countenance and attitude changing, at once into an expression of resignation and humility so captivating that she seemed to have reserved the full effect of her genius for the conclusion of the personification, which ended in her again casting herself at the feet of the image.7
Emma's overblown style was perfect for an age when Sarah Siddons was acclaimed for tearing up the scenery when she played Lady Macbeth.
At her writing desk, Emma scribbled begging letters, flitting between demanding the government carry out Nelson's wishes and requesting a pension for her services in Naples. Unhappy that Mrs. Fox, widow of Charles James Fox and previously a courtesan, received a pension of more than £1,200 a year, she began to lie that she herself had collected the Neapolitan gold from Maria Carolina to put it on Nelson's ship, rather than receiving the convoys of luggage at the Palazzo Sessa. Still no money came. Her position was hopeless. If she had sold Merton immediately, dismissed all her servants, and retired with Horada to a cheap rented house in Norfolk, perhaps, or by the sea, she could have managed on Sir William's legacy. But she owed about £7,000 at Nelson's death, and she had over a dozen people directly dependent on her, with many more soliciting regular payouts. She had no choice but to keep up Merton and continue wasting her money in London, the city with the highest cost of living in the world. Her life was crammed with concerts, parties, and