The scandalous fate of the former shepherdess, who skillfully managed her natural “capital,” has inspired numerous works, including three historical novels by Alexandre Dumas. Rising from poverty through her feminine allure, she found herself back in destitution with its loss. The charming actress, singer, mime, courtesan, mistress, and wife of British ambassador William Hamilton, as well as the lover of the legendary British naval commander Horatio Nelson, became the “Marilyn Monroe” of her time—at the turn of the 18th and 19th centuries, Emma Hamilton was the most talked-about celebrity in Europe.
The Mystery of Her Birth
The beauty from Chester, Amy Lyon (known in English as Amy Lyon, and in Dumas’s texts as Emma Lyonna), was born on April 26, 1765, in Cheshire, England. Her official father was a blacksmith named Henry Lyons, about whom only two facts are known: he moved to Chester from Flintshire in search of work and died young. Amy’s earliest memories are tied to the time when her mother, Marie, brought her to her parents’ village, where the widow and her little daughter faced numerous hardships. While her mother sold coal, seven-year-old Amy tended sheep on a farm in exchange for food.
When the girl turned 10, the impoverished widow unexpectedly received funds to send her daughter to a boarding school—financial aid from the Earl of Halifax. Some biographers of Emma Hamilton have interpreted the aristocrat’s support in raising the child as a hint at a possible connection to her true parentage. In any case, thanks to the earl, Amy learned to read, mastered music, and developed her drawing skills, but with Halifax’s death, financial hardship returned for mother and daughter.
Amy at 17, the first portrait painted by George Romney, 1872.
In the Role of Juliet
Two years later, Amy left the boarding school and took a job as a nanny for the three grandchildren of Viscount Thomas Hawarden. One day, while out for a walk with her charges, the 13-year-old “Mary Poppins” caught the eye of artist George Romney, who was captivated by her innocent beauty and invited the potential model to pose for him in London. The following year, Amy ran away to the capital with her friend Fanny Strong and her smuggler brother. Arriving in 1779 in the most expensive city in Europe, Lyon found work as a servant for wealthy families. Initially unable to find the artist who had invited her to work, Amy relied on the support of her previous employer’s son.
Successful surgeon James Hawarden found the girl a position as a saleswoman in a jewelry store and invited the charming provincial girl to the London theater. After watching Shakespeare’s “Romeo and Juliet,” the grateful audience member was so impressed by the theatrical art that she memorized Juliet’s role and acted out Shakespearean passions in her imaginary performances. Soon, she would apply her innate talent for acting on the stage of life, gaining a scandalous reputation within three years, becoming the mistress of several men, participating in a nude demonstration, and giving birth to an unwanted child.
Emma as Circe at Waddesdon Manor, George Romney, 1782.
The Taste of Vice
Amy’s first confirmed sexual experience was with naval captain John Payne. Accompanied by her friend Fanny Strong, whose brother was forcibly taken to serve as a sailor, Amy found herself on a ship where the new recruit was to serve. Amid the war between England and the North American colonies, Richard was called to duty, but the girls, dressed in fine gowns, decided to use their feminine charms to persuade the authorities to release the boy from the ship. Amy was pleased with her “acting debut” as a young seductress, as her first experience turned out to be successful.
If Dumas’s account of the incident is to be believed, the stern captain of the warship granted the request of his charming guest, making her his mistress. The young lover settled in her patron’s house, where she had servants and a carriage. However, the captain soon set sail with his squadron, and Amy Lyon received an offer of intimacy from a wealthy and attractive friend of her predecessor. The next year, the “girl for entertainment” spent time with Sir Harry Fazeyson. Dancing, parties, and hunting trips opened up an alluring world of leisure for Amy, in which she quickly adapted.
Emma Hart, painted by George Romney, 1782.
The Art of Seduction
After ending her relationship with her second lover, Amy found herself on the streets in a literal sense: the need for quick cash forced her to offer herself on the sidewalks of Haymarket. Unfortunately, the 16-year-old Lyon was abandoned by her lover while pregnant. After giving birth to a daughter named Emma, the young mother entrusted her child to her grandmother, who had raised her alone. Emma Carew’s fate was predictable: she spent most of her life as a servant, never started her own family, and died childless at the age of 75.
“Healing Beauty” by the charlatan doctor James Graham
Amy Lyon changed her name to Emma Hart and began posing in “living sculptures” at the “Healing Beauty” salon of Dr. James Graham—a pleasure-seeking Scottish charlatan who called himself a doctor and “exhibited” naked beauties in erotic poses to a circle of admirers. The salon always attracted art enthusiasts, and one day, the same painter who had invited Amy to London came to see the advertised “goddess of health.” George Romney’s trained eye immediately recognized the familiar grace. The new lover painted the “goddess” in the guise of seductive bacchantes.
“Creators of Kings”
The next London cohabitant of the future Emma Hamilton (by this time, there was less and less time left) was a wealthy young aristocrat, the nephew of Sir William Hamilton, Charles Grenville. The carefree womanizer belonged to an honorable lineage, dubbed by the British as “creators of kings.” Deep down, the 17-year-old lover, who captivated men with her erotic “shawl dances,” hoped to marry the eligible bachelor, but after a few years of intimacy and even the birth of children, Charles handed his mistress over to his uncle. This happened after Sir William Hamilton found his nephew’s situation unsatisfactory and threatened to cut off his inheritance if he did not stop wasting his life with a courtesan.
Emma Hart, portrait by George Romney, 1784.
In 1784, the British ambassador to the Kingdom of Naples unexpectedly visited his relative in London and spent a week assessing the situation based on what he saw and heard from neighbors. By then, the nephew’s mistress had already made a favorable impression on her lover’s relative: she was knowledgeable in music and painting, spoke three languages fluently (besides English, she knew French and Italian), could speak in rhyme, and had achieved success in the art of posing and pantomime. An educated and open-minded 50-year-old widower could not help but be intrigued by such a woman.
Nothing Personal
The details of that arrangement remain undisclosed by history, but rumors filled the air: the nephew allegedly agreed to hand Emma over to his uncle in exchange for help in settling his personal debts. Emma was not informed of the men’s agreement. Grenville was supposed to accompany Emma on a trip to Italy but was unable to leave his affairs, so he sent his woman on the journey alone. Upon arriving at Sir William’s house, the guest was captivated by his fascinating stories about archaeological expeditions and professional studies of volcanoes.
In 1786, Emma settled in Naples and alleviated the loneliness of the 56-year-old British ambassador. The marriage in 1791 of 60-year-old Sir William to his 26-year-old bride drew disapproval from aristocratic circles, but the scandal only heightened interest in the woman with a questionable past. In Naples, Lady Hamilton engaged in promoting the art of “living pictures,” in which she already had experience. For distinguished guests, the British ambassador’s wife organized performances (“attitudes”), portraying heroines from classical works.
Sir William Hamilton, portrait by David Allan
The Flame of Passion
One of Emma Hamilton’s admirers was Queen Maria Carolina of Austria, who, during the revolutionary and Napoleonic wars, displaced her husband Ferdinand IV of Naples from power. Certain historians explain the close friendship between Emma and the daughter of Austrian Empress Maria Theresa (who was also the sister of the executed French Queen Marie Antoinette) as a romantic connection. It was this queen friend who facilitated Emma Hamilton’s introduction to the heroic Briton Horatio Nelson, with whom the ambassador’s wife became involved in 1798.
Admiral Nelson, painted by John Francis Rigaud, 1781.
Igniting the flame of passion in the heart of the brave naval commander, who had lost his right eye and arm in battles, was not difficult for the experienced seductress. Even in her mature form (the once slender body of the bacchante had noticeably softened from a life of comfort), Emma could attract the attention of a sailor who had seen more stormy seas than tender affection. Horatio Nelson had been sailing as a cabin boy on his uncle’s ship since he was 12, and by 20, he had already become a captain in the Royal Navy. When he returned home from yet another victory, battered from battles with the French, people on the shore greeted his ship with cheers. This was also the case on September 22, 1798, during his arrival in Naples. The excitement of the hundreds of Italians gathered at the port knew no bounds. But Nelson’s attention in that crowd was drawn to only one woman, whom he would call “the best in the world.”
Lady Hamilton as a Bacchante, Élisabeth Louise Vigée Le Brun, 1790–1791.
The Love Triangle
On the Italian shore, Lady Hamilton awaited the British ambassador, who noted that she was the first to fall into his arms and whispered, “Is this possible?” At the residence of the English ambassador, Emma skillfully tended to the wounded guest, changing his bandages and never leaving his bedside, entertaining him with stories about local traditions. The longer they conversed, the clearer it became to Nelson how happy this woman made him. “I have never met anyone equal to you,” Horatio would write to his beloved, who was six years younger than him.
James Gillray caricatured Sir William’s attitude toward the affair between Emma and Nelson. Emma is depicted as “Cleopatra” in the upper left corner, while Nelson is “Mark Antony” nearby.
In 1800, Nelson and the Hamiltons returned to England. Rumors of the scandalous affair reached the newspapers. Sir William Hamilton’s outward calm was remarkable: it seemed that the legal husband of the unfaithful woman was not at all troubled by the love triangle. In 1801, Emma gave birth to a daughter by Nelson, naming her Horatia. In 1803, the disgraced Sir William Hamilton passed away, leaving his estate to his nephew. The latter evicted his former mistress from the inherited house, where Lady Hamilton was no longer the mistress.
The Unfulfilled Will
After her husband’s death, Lady Hamilton openly moved in with Nelson: the country house he purchased was located on the southern outskirts of London, in Wimbledon. The vice-admiral (in the contemporary British rank hierarchy, a middle rank between rear-admiral and admiral) had left his family in 1801 and had honestly requested a divorce from his wife, but he never received it before his death. “Love me as strongly as I love you, my dear, and let there be no happier couple in the world than us,” Horatio asked Emma as he went off to his last battle at Trafalgar.
Lady Hamilton depicted as Ariadne, Élisabeth Louise Vigée Le Brun, c. 1790. The painting belonged to Nelson and hung above his bed.
On October 21, 1805, 47-year-old Nelson received a fatal wound aboard his ship: a sniper’s shot was aided by the gleam of his battle medals, polished with care by Emma before the campaign. It is believed that the admiral’s last words were, “I bequeath Lady Hamilton and our daughter Horatia to the nation.” The homeland mourned its hero, who was buried in St. Paul’s Cathedral in central London, named after his last battle at Trafalgar. However, the United Kingdom did not consider it necessary to care for Nelson’s “informal” loved ones. After the national hero’s death, his illegitimate daughter was handed over to the care of the admiral’s sister, and Horatia never learned who her parents were. On her gravestone, she was referred to as “the adopted daughter of Horatio Nelson.”
Horatia, daughter of Hamilton and Nelson
A Slave to Love
After the death of her last patron, no one cared about Emma Hamilton at all. She was even barred from attending the public funeral ceremony. This was to be expected, as the queen had forbidden the court from receiving the sinful woman even during her protector’s lifetime. While the government reasonably ignored the mistress, it granted a pension of £2,000 to the official widow of the hero (Fanny remained legally married to Nelson in the documents). By the end of her short life, the commoner who had felt like a “lady” struggled to make ends meet (she also had to leave the house purchased by Nelson, as it was taken by the heirs) and by 1813 was completely entangled in financial troubles. Moving from one cheap corner to another (in her last days, she lived in an attic due to constant hardship), the former favorite of the elite sold off her cherished personal belongings, including a silver locket—a gift from Nelson for the birth of their daughter—and the uniform of the hero of Trafalgar.
“Lady Hamilton as the Persian Sibyl,” 1792, Vigée Le Brun, commissioned by the Duke de Brissac in Naples.
Condemned by creditors, Lady Hamilton ended up in prison and, after her release, hid from new pursuers in France. On the other side of the Channel, the fugitive drank not out of joy but sorrow, pouring herself not elite champagne or her favorite Scotch whisky, but cheap “swill” from the port workers’ menu. Under the threat of a second imprisonment in a debtors’ prison, Emma Hamilton secluded herself from the world in Calais, where she died on January 15, 1815, from dysentery. The “slave to love” passed away at 50, when she no longer felt desired or needed by anyone, except for her debt collectors.