England's Mistress_ The Infamous Life of Emma Hamilton - Kate Williams [72]
Every evening, Emma proudly paraded with Sir William along the Chi-aia and past the royal palace. As they did so, up to six hundred gilt carriages jammed along the seafront while actors, singers, dancers, and even preachers performed to the gathered crowd.5 Each of the splendid carriages was led by a footman carrying a flambeau and pulled by up to eight horses wearing ornate costumes of blue silk and silver, adorned with white ostrich feathers and strewn with flowers. The nobles waved graciously, dressed up in gold and silver lace and heavy gold jewelry. One traveler grumbled that the multitude of footmen, flambeau, and carriages looked like a "grand funeral procession," but Emma was deeply impressed and spent hours preparing herself6 Excluded from the court and aristocratic gatherings, she aimed to catch the eye of the Neapolitan elite on their public outings. She quickly found a little circle of admirers. The debauched English aristocrat Lord Hervey became her devoted fan and the royal courtier Prince Dietrichstein begged for a portrait, promising he passed his time telling the queen about Mrs. Hart's amazing beauty.
The king soon spotted Sir William's new friend and began sending her lecherous looks and bowing to her whenever he saw her out walking or sailing. On one occasion when she was accompanying her host in his boat, Ferdinand came beside her and "took off his hat & sett with his hat on his knees all the wile & when we was going to land, he made his bow & said it was a sin he could not speak English." Maria Carolina was recovering from childbirth at the palace, and the full force of his schoolboy seduction efforts were directed at Emma. "We are closely besieged by the K. in a round about manner," she reported, sighing that he came to Posillipo every Sunday to ogle her. She declared she would "never give him any encouragement," for she was hoping to "keep the good will" of the queen, who punished those of his lovers she could by banishing them. Deterring the king was not easy: he expected to get what he wanted. Emma decided to pretend she was too innocent to understand what the king desired, which was a delicate matter considering she was neither married nor Sir William's mistress and could not claim that she had to be faithful. Still, her efforts were successful, and when Maria Carolina heard about her pains to fend off her husband's advances, she declared Emma a pattern of virtue.
"The great heats are but just set in," complained Sir William in July7 Emma had still not heard from Greville, although she wrote to him that she had written fourteen times. The letters do not survive; perhaps she wrote and never sent them. She was desperate for a reply.
I have a language master, a singing master, musick etc etc, but what is it for, if it was to amuse you I should be happy, but Greville, what will it avail me. I am poor, helpless & forlorn. I have lived with you 5 years and you have sent me to a strange place & no one prospect, me thinking you was coming to me; instead of which, I was told I was to live, you know how, with Sir W No. I respect him, but no, never, shall he peraps live with me for a little wile like you & send me to England, then what am I todo?
Finally, in August, Greville replied and her illusions were shattered.
"You have made me love you, made me good," wrote Emma in consternation, and now "you have abbandoned me." In his reply, Greville instructed her to be Sir William's mistress. "If you knew what pain I feil in reading those lines whare you advise me to oblidge Sir Wm…. nothing can express my rage, I am all madness, Greville, to advise me, you that used to envy my smiles, now with cooll indifferance to advise me to go to bed with him, Sir Wm." Feeling as if she could "murder you and myself boath," she could not believe that she had turned down offers from other men and struggled to obey Greville's rules, only for him to pimp her out. She threatened that she would return to the streets: "I will go to London, their go in to every exess of vice, tell I dye a miserable