Lady Emma Hamilton – More Than Just A Muse

by | Apr 4, 2018 | Europe, Mid Modern Period (1750 - 1914), UK | 0 comments

This week I would like you to meet Lady Emma Hamilton, although you might know her already as the muse of several famous paintings (notably by George Romney, see picture). But there is a lot more to her than her pretty face and that’s what this post will be all about. 

Born 1765 in the English town of Ness, her original name was Amy Lyon. Not much is known about her early life, but that she was earning her living as a maid. Her next job was dancing at the “Temple of Health,” an establishment lead by a quack doctor, where she met her first lover when she was 15. He wasn’t a very kind guy and ditched her when she became pregnant with his child. She had however formed a friendship with Charles Greville, Earl of Warwick, who was not a very interesting person and double her age, but kind and sincere.

So she decided to become the mistress of Greville, who after all was of noble blood and a nice man – and smitten with her. He accepted her into his London home under the condition that she severed all ties to her former life, as it had been a tumultuous and at times scandalous one, that he did not want associated with his person, being of nobility and all.

And so she did, adopting the new name of Emma Hart, and moving into Greville’s appartement in 1782. She was taught noble manners, had writing and singing lessons and became interested in literature and the arts. She was also introduced to famous painter George Romney, as her lover wanted to have her portrait painted.

Romney fell in love with Emma too, on an intellectual, artistic level, so she became his muse and the subject of many of his paintings. He never had her sit in any indiscreet poses though, even if he had her model nude, showing how much respect he had for her. Through these paintings, she became quite famous in London’s society, being witty and smart on top of her beauty and elegance. And quite a few painters decided to portray her in their works, her ability to adapt a variety of roles attracting them. (see picture, by Louise Élisabeth Vigée Le Brun)

In the meantime, just one year after she had moved in, Greville’s love for Emma diminished and he hoped to find a rich heiress to marry, helping his measly financial situation. The relationship with his mistress however posed a threat to these goals, no potential bride would accept him when he openly lived with another woman.

Luckily it was exactly then that his uncle Sir William Hamilton came to visit him from Naples – and fell head over heels for Emma. She remained faithful to Greville however and did not return his avances.

In 1786, Emma departed for Naples nonetheless – an only six-month stay, Greville had promised, while he was away on business in Scotland. This was nothing but a scheme though and all Greville wanted was to usher Emma off to become Hamilton’s mistress, so that he could marry his sugar mama. At first she felt homesick, but Hamilton proved himself a true gentleman who shared many of her interests and introduced her to Naples’ high society. So she grew to like life in the city, learned Italian and French and was fascinated by Hamilton’s vulcanic research. Not too much later though, she realized she was supposed to stay in Naples as her host’s mistress. She wrote many letters to Greville, assuring him of her love and that she felt nothing but friendship for his uncle. He coldly replied she was to do as his uncle wished. There was nothing else she could do, so she accepted Hamilton, who was 35 years her senior, as her lover.

Making the best of her situation, Emma began to live her artistic ideas, starting to exhibit “living pictures” for her guests (see picture). Using minimal requisites, she managed to captivate her audience, making these kind of performances an accepted art form. With these “attitudes,” as she called them, as well as with her singing voice she was soon known throughout Europe – basically the Marilyn Monroe of her time. She even managed to win over members of the court, who had originally disdained “the courtesan.”

In 1790 Sir Hamilton decided to legalize their relationship. Greville was shocked (heh!). This marriage could prove fatal to Hamilton’s position as British ambassador though, so they travelled to London to ask the king for permission. Emma used this trip to reconnect with many of her former acquaintances, including George Romney who created several more paintings of her. Although Queen Charlotte refused to meet “the mistress,” King George III gave his blessing in secret. On September 6th, 1791 they were married in Marylebone Church, where Emma, now Lady Hamilton, signed the register with “Amy Lyon,” her birth name – a scandal in British aristocracy.

On their way back home, they came through revolution-torn Paris, where they talked with Marie Antoinette and received a confidential letter to the Queen’s sister in Naples, Queen Maria Carolina. Emma delivered the letter, a meeting that resulted in a long and close friendship with the Neapolitan Queen – there were even rumours of a lesbian relationship (but as much as I love my historic lesbians, I highly doubt that and consider it propaganda, there were a shitton of critics).

With this friendship Emma’s role became a more and more political one, acting as middlewoman for correspondence and translating delicate documents. That’s how she met Admiral Nelson, who returned from battle wounded but victorious. Emma nursed him back to health and eventually they fell in love. This affair was entirely tolerated by the elderly Sir Hamilton, who had nothing but respect for the Admiral – a feeling that was mutual.

When the French were advancing into the kingdom of Naples. The Hamiltons fled with the Queen’s household on Nelsons ships to Palermo, Sicily. The Neapolitan territory was recovered but the Hamilton estate destroyed, so the couple did not return home. Instead they embarked on a sea journey with Nelson where Emma spent the nights with the Admiral, eventually becoming pregnant. Finally back in England, Emma now met Nelson’s wife Fanny for the first time in late 1800. Only a few months later, Fanny ended the marriage as Nelson was not willing to give up Emma, which resulted in him moving in with the Hamiltons. Society did not approve.

After Emma gave birth to Nelson’s daughter, who was named Horatia, the triad moved to Merton Place, a residence in the outskirts of London in 1801. Two years later Sir Hamilton died with both Emma and Nelson holding his hands. Unfortunately Greville (remember him?) was appointed the sole heir of his uncle’s estates, the price for Emma years ago. She only got a small yearly pension.

Even though Nelson was a sea frequently, the couple enjoyed their times together and Emma encouraged him in fulfilling his duty even if she probably didn’t like seeing him that seldomly. In 1805, they were married in St. Paul’s Cathedral just before his final departure. While the Battle of Trafalgar was won by the British, it was Nelson’t final fight. He was struck by a bullet and died immediately. Neither her nor his ex-wife Fanny were invited to his burial. She did inherit Merton Place and got a yearly pension, but Nelsons final wish that she be supported by the state of Naples for her diplomatic deeds was rejected.

In the last decade of her life, Emma’s health and wealth deteriorated, a huge contribution being her ensuing alcoholism. Her pensions were often paid to late and didn’t suffice to pay her considerable debt (she had never been good with money). Finally she was forced to sell her home to pay off a part of her creditors and placed in a small barrack under house arrest with her daughter. In the end the small family fled to France (the irony) where Emma died in Calais in 1815.

The picture on the left is a pastel owned by Nelson, painted around 1800.

A tumultuous and scandalous life for sure and a woman who was much more than just a pretty face, just trying to find happiness and being taken along by the flow of life. But forever immortal in a multitude of paintings.

image credits:

1: “Emma Hart, Lady Hamilton as Circe” by George Romney, ca. 1782 – © National Trust, Waddesdon Manor (104.1995)
2: “Lady Hamilton as a Bacchante” by Élisabeth Vigée Le Brun, ca. 1790 – © Lady Lever Art Gallery (WHL 712)
3: from “Drawings Faithfully copied From Nature at Naples and with permission dedicated To the Right Honourable Sir William Hamilton” by Friedrich Rehberg – Link
4: “Emma, Lady Hamilton”, by Johann Heinrich Schmidt, 1800 – © National Maritime Museum Collections (PAJ3940)

Osh-Tisch and The-Other-Magpie – The Women Who Fought at the Rosebud

by | Apr 4, 2018 | Mid Modern Period (1750 - 1914), North America, USA | 0 comments

I would like to introduce you to two badass ladies of the Crow Tribe: Osh-Tisch and The-Other-Magpie who fought at the Battle of the Rosebud!

A little preface: Osh-Tisch was baté (also badé or boté), which is the Crow word for Two Spirit. This term describes the third gender, recognized in most Native American societies. Two Spirits fulfill the duties of the opposite gender they are assigned, or often the duties of both genders. Baté specifically refers to male-bodied people, that live as women. This is why I will be using female pronouns referring to Osh-Tisch, as the members of her tribe do.

So let’s get started: Enter Osh-Tisch, baté of the Crow Nation. And not just any baté, but one of their leaders, described as a regal personality. In this highly regarded role, she lived separate from the main area and took on a number of roles including artist, medicine woman and shaman. As a skilled craftswoman who made intricate leather goods and large tipis, she earned the right to construct the buffalo-skin lodge of the tribe’s Chief Iron Bull. However, on the day she earned her name, translating to “Finds Them And Kills Them,” she showed what a ferocious warrior she was as well.

The sources on The-Other-Magpie are a little less extensive. It is known that she was an unmarried woman, pretty and wild. Her brother had been killed by the Lakota not long ago and she wanted revenge.

At the Battle of the Rosebud, the Crow fought in a coalition led by the US Army against the Lakota and Cheyenne.

During the battle, Bull-Snake, a Crow warrior was wounded and fell off his horse. In a second, Osh-Tisch lept from her horse and faced the charging Lakota (who did of course notice their advantage). Hefting her rifle, she fired shot after shot at the approaching enemy, reloading as fast as her fingers allowed it, defending her fallen comrade.

Meanwhile, The-Other-Magpie decided it was on her to help and began to ride towards the Lakota, screaming from the top of her lungs. She did not have a gun. Or bow and arrows. The-Other-Magpie had a stick. A coup stick to be precise.

What is a coup stick you ask? There was this tradition among Native warriors to ride into battle unarmed but with a decorative stick. The goal was, to hit as many people as possible with it without dying – so, kind of the most dangerous game of tag ever. The more people you hit, the more you were allowed to decorate your stick and it would become quite fancy indeed.

The-Other-Magpie’s stick was not fancy. It had a single tiny feather on it.

So, there was The-Other-Magpie, charging the Lakota, wildly waving her coup stick, spitting at them while screaming “My spit is my arrows!” – and there was Osh-Tisch, standing over the fallen warrior, shooting bullet after bullet at their enemies.

Believe it or not, The-Other-Magpie did land a hit on a (presumably pretty confused) Lakota warrior and a second later he fell down dead, hit by one of Osh-Tisch’s bullets. Horrified by this mad but seemingly supernatural warrior woman, the Lakota scattered and The-Other-Magpie took the fallen’s scalp. Riding into the village, she cut it up and distributed it amongst the men so they would have more scalps to dance with in the post-battle ceremonies. It was one of 10 scalps taken by the Crow that day.

This story would most likely have been forgotten, if not for Pretty-Shield, medicine woman of the Crow who, while recounting details from this battle, told of her. You can find her original account here, if you are interested.

Now the story starts to get a little sad, so feel free to just stop reading here if you want (I’d totally understand that.)

In the following years, the Crow were confined to reservations and government agents and missionaries began to visit, starting the oppression of Two Spirits and anything apart from the very screwed morals of the time. In the late 1890s, Osh-Tisch and the other baté were imprisoned, forced to cut their hair and wear men’s clothing by an agent named Briskow. The Crow however were not okay with this at all and their protests had Briskow fired. Sadly however, the gender oppression was not over at all and many Two Spirits assimilated to society and dressed like their assigned gender. Those who could not bear it, committed suicide or were driven into substance abuse. Unfortunately the numbers are high.

Osh-Tisch did not give up though, and continued to try and educate her contemporaries. When asked why she wore women’s clothes, she’d answer she was “inclined to be a woman, never a man.” When asked what work she did, she’d reply “All woman’s work” and proudly present an ornate dress she had made.

Besides trying to normalize who she was, she started an intertribal network of Two Spirits. They worked together, secretly communicating with each other, coordinating their efforts to make people understand and providing a support net for one another.

Sadly her efforts were not rewarded and she remains one of the few Two Spirits whose name and story has survived until today. When she died in 1929, the ancient knowledge of the baté died with her.

There is a modern movement to revive the idea and tradition of Two Spirits among the tribes, but it has been met with great resistance, even from within the tribes. Two Spirits today still face persecution and suffer from hate crimes. While it is commonly accepted that Two Spirits have existed, their role in society and especially their acceptance has been lost. It is important to remember them.

So remember Osh-Tisch, baté of the Crow, a bridge between genders, a bridge between tribes.

The picture shows her (on the left) with her wife.

image credits: found at Indian Country Media Network

Marianne of Orange-Nassau – A True Free Spirit

by | Apr 4, 2018 | Europe, Germany, Mid Modern Period (1750 - 1914), the Netherlands | 0 comments

Today I’d like to present to you one of my biggest personal heroines: Wilhelmina Frederika Louise Charlotte Marianne of Orange-Nassau (or Marianne for short).

Born in 1810 as Princess of the Netherlands her upbringing was already quite unusual for the time with her parents being loving and liberal. Her family’s residence was called “Het Loo,” which made me giggle.

Aged 20 (relatively late!) she was married to her cousin (not unusual), the youngest Prince of Prussia. It was quite a happy marriage at first, producing five children. The couple however was not really compatible, with her being a free spirit and him being more of military character. And when he began to entertain relations with mistresses, she was not willing to take it quietly (as was expected of her): After 14 years of marriage she demanded a divorce. She was denied however, with both the Prussian and the Dutch court trying to avoid a scandal. So she packed her bags and left.

She took her carriage and travelled Europe and her several estates, eventually falling in love with her coachman, Johannes van Rossum. When she got pregnant, she was finally allowed to separate from her husband – if only to avoid an even bigger scandal as she was not only pregnant with an illegitimate child but the father was well below her social rank as well. This was five years after she took off. 

She was now almost 40 (see picture on the right) and forbidden from entering Prussian ground for more than 24 hours at a time. This meant she was separated from her children as well as her own estates in the country. But Marianne was not one to give up.

She simply bought a castle right at the border, thus being able to visit her children regularly or have them visit her and managing her property. And she did well: her descendants became one of the richest branches of the dynasty.

Expanding her house by a gallery with about 600 artworks, she took in aspiring artists to support them and thus created a cultural and intellectual hotspot.

She also decided to raise her illegitimate son herself instead of giving him away, once again making the court wrinkle their noses. Van Rossum and her never married too – they just lived together. And she was never ashamed of it.

A woman ahead of her time, a loving mother, a badass businesswoman and always unapologetically herself.

image credits:

painting: by Jan Philip Koelman, 1846 – via Wikimedia Commons
photo: unknown – via Wikimedia Commons

Zheng Yi Sao – Pirate Queen of the Qing Dynasty

by | Apr 4, 2018 | Asia, China, Mid Modern Period (1750 - 1914) | 0 comments

Did you know the world’s most powerful pirate was a woman? Her name was Zheng Yi Sao, or Madame Ching, who lived in the Qing Dynasty of ancient China and at one point commanded a fleet of about 1800 ships with more than 70000 men, terrifying the Imperial Navy. You can see her on the right, this is one of the very few authentic images of her. But let’s start at the beginning.

She was born on the coast of Southern China and like many women there, she later worked as a prostitute on one of the many swimming brothels. 1801, when she was 26 years old, the already quite powerful pirate captain Zheng Wenxian asked for her hand in marriage and bought her free. At first they went to Vietnam, where the pirate life was a lucrative one. The Zhengs shared every aspects of their lives – yes, the fighting too – life was good.

Unfortunately after just one year the pirates who had been allies in Vietnam, now found themselves competing for the limited ressources of the Chinese coastline again. That’s when the Zhengs started to work on a pirate alliance. In 1804/05, they had established a confederation of six pirate leaders, each commanding a fleet and all under their supreme command. Well, officially HIS supreme command, but that would change when he drowned in a Taifun in 1907, aged 42. Without hesitation Zheng Yi Sao assumed leadership – surprisingly without any uproar and soon she had earned the nickname “Dragonlady.”
And she led well, delegating the command of her fleet to her adoptive son and lover (ignoring both, the mourning tradition and the incest taboo – which still did not diminish her authority) and implementing a strict code of rules. By 1808 (when she was 33) her alliance had brought the whole coast of the Guangdong province under their control (the red part in the picture), so that’s quite a bit of coastline they controlled there) and ships faring the Southern Chinese waters had to pay them for protection – so basically all the ships because the vast majority of trade routes went South. The salt and opium trade had also become a pirate monopoly.
And now the emperor finally had enough. The pirate problem was obviously out of control and his military offences kept failing. So in 1809 he took the desperate measure of forbidding all maritime traffic, all goods had to be transported by land. But well, hungry pirates are not necessarily tamer than well-fed ones, so that plan kinda backfired. Realizing the coast was dead, they began sailing the rivers, advancing into the inland. They frightened the people so bad, that they killed every stranger on sight, fearing him to be a disguised pirate. With no one left to oppose them, it was now time for inner conflicts. Gu Podai, the captain of the second-most powerful fleet in Zheng Yi Sao’s alliance (after hers), was not happy with the quick rise of her adoptive son and lover (whom she had appointed captain of her fleet), taking orders from someone so much younger and less accomplished did not go with his honor. And there was an opportunity: because the Imperial Navy was rendered completely powerless, the authorities offered rewards for pirated denouncing their trade. So Gu Podai left and he and his feared Black Fleet joined the Imperial Navy – not without a generous “compensation” of course. Not a critical change for the pirates but life had become uncomfortable. Zheng Yi Sao had to decide now: continue her pirate life or give up now, as long as the rewards were high? She made her decision and spoke before the governor on April 17, 1810 and three days later surrendered herself, 17318 pirates, 226 ships and 1315 cannons. Then she and her frenemy Gu Pao ran down the remaining pirates. Now the time for surrender was over, no more rewards. The power had shifted – once more thanks to Zheng Yi Sao. That same year the pirate queen retired, aged 35, and lived a happy and relatively quiet life. Just as quietly and entirely unobstructed she led a smuggling operation for opium and a gambling house. In 1844 she died in peace at 69 years old.
While she is certainly not an entirely forgotten “heroine” – I mean, she was in Pirates of the Caribbean – not many people know how powerful she really was and how she defied the rules of society to find happiness for herself. So this is why in my opinion she was the perfect opener for this project – a prostitute from the flower boats becoming a pirate queen, no, THE pirate queen.

image credits:

portrait: found at Ancient Origins
map: That’s Magazine – The Explainer, HK Focus Media Group
movie still: from “Pirates of the Caribbean – At World’s End,” 2007 – Link