The scandalous story of Mary Imlay, Mary Shelley’s (the author of Frankenstein’s) half-sister

I thought today, as I’d mentioned Mary Shelley (Godwin) in my Halloween blog, that I would start the stories of the sisters of the Godwin household in this weekend’s tale of scandalous women from history. I’ll begin with Fanny Imlay’s Story, Mary’s older half-sister.

Let me begin though by telling a little of Percy Bysshe Shelley’s history before he met Fanny and Mary.

Percy Shelley

Shelley published two gothic novels while at Oxford, in 1810 and 1811, while also writing anti-war and atheist based pamphlets. These earned him an expulsion from Oxford and when he refused his father’s help to return to Oxford a separation from his family.

He eloped to Scotland in 1811, four months after his expulsion from Oxford and married Harriette Westbrook. He knew Harriette Westbrook through his sisters who attend the same school. Shelley was heir to a Baronete, her father owned a tavern, needless to say Shelley’s father was not best pleased and cut off Shelley’s allowance.

Shelley did not even particularly care for Hariette but she had poured out her heart to him in letters claiming misery and of course I have often said before men of Shelley’s era loved to play the gallant. He saw himself as her rescuer. But he had not anticipated that Harriette would insist her elder sister, who Shelley did not like, would live with them. He was disappointed in life again when his best friend showed his true colours and sought to seduce Hareitte when he came to stay.

Seeing himself as a political radical, another romantic notion of the era, Shelley sought mental stimulation of men of a similar mind and began leaving his wife behind.

He accused Harriette of marrying him for his money and built questionable friendships with women with more stimulating conversations and more active minds. While equalling haunting the company of William Godwin a man who had published political work whose leanings Shelley favoured, although Godwin was equally more interested in Shelley’s money than his views. However Godwin had three daughters, Fanny Imlay, Claire Clairmont and Mary, who later became Shelley’s wife.

So let me now begin the story of these sisters.

Mary Wollstonecraft – Fanny Imlay’s and Mary Godwin’s mother

Fanny Imlay was the eldest, she was not William Godwin’s daughter but an illegitimate child her mother had conceived during in an affair with an American entrepreneur. They had commenced the affair during the French Revolution and Fanny was conceived on the border where her parents met regularly.

Her father had gone to France to seek commercial opportunity, while her mother was there to promote feminism, having written A Vindication of the Rights of Woman, in 1792. Her mother’s family thought the pair married. They were not and the affair ended badly. Fanny’s father left only to be pursued by her mother who tried to commit suicide on two occasions when he would not have her back. She failed.

Then Fanny’s mother met William Godwin and fell in love again, she also fell pregnant with his child but Godwin did marry her. She died shortly after though, giving birth to William Godwin’s daughter, Mary. Fanny was only three at the time and so was raised by a man who was no relation to her.

William Godwin remarried four years after the death of his first wife, and his second wife brought another daughter in the household, Jane (who later renamed herself, Claire) as well as a son. Godwin then had another child, a son, with his new wife.

William Godwin once described Fanny and Mary,

‘My own daughter (Mary) is considerably superior in capacity to the one her mother had before. Fanny, the eldest, is of a quiet, modest, unshowy disposition, somewhat given to indolence, which is her greatest fault, but sober, observing, peculiarly clear and distinct in the faculty of memory, and disposed to exercise her own thoughts and follow her own judgment. Mary, my daughter, is the reverse of her in many particulars. She is singularly bold, somewhat imperious, and active of mind. Her desire for knowledge is great, and her perseverance in everything she undertakes is almost invincible. My own daughter is, I believe, very pretty; Fanny is by no means handsome, but in general prepossessing.’

But despite this slightly disparaging account of Fanny, it was Fanny he leaned upon, it was Fanny who helped him manage money and support the family. There are copies of letters Fanny wrote to several wealthy benefactors, begging money, which is rather sour when you learn that her own inheritance of £200 was lost due to her step-father’s debts.

When Shelley first made contact with Godwin his initial interest was in Fanny who was then 18. Before he had even met her, he asked if she might be allowed stay with himself and Hariette, solely because he admired her mother’s writing. Godwin did not agree because he had no cause to trust Shelley when it was widely known he had eloped to take his wife.

But Shelley then began spending time with the Godwins and at this time most of his attention was focused on Fanny. She had enlightened and spirited conversations with him, discussing politics. But then Godwin sent Fanny away to Wales and we can only speculate on why, but perhaps it was because he feared she was at risk of being sucked into an affair, and of course as Shelley was already married it could have had no happy end.

But while Fanny was away Shelley fell in love with Mary, Fanny’s half-sister, (whose story I’ll tell in a couple of weeks).

Mary Godwin later Shelley

With Fanny gone, her father fell further into debt and her step-mother grew more intolerable, and both Mary, who was 16, and her step-sister Jane, desired to escape. Shelley gave them the means and the opportunity for an exiting romantic escape. They fled with him to the continent, leaving Fanny behind alone in Wales. This all occurred in 1814.

Fanny was immediately called back to London to support her father in clearing his debts and help her step-mother run the house and look after the two boys in face of scandal and humiliation.

Godwin was a man who was widely known and well-respected, with two of his daughters running off with a married man he was a mockery and increasingly embarrassed as they stayed abroad.

Fanny was placed in the untenable position of having to write to Shelley and continue to beg money from him. It left her in the middle of a bitter separation as she sought to keep her relationship with her sisters while trying to continue to support the man who had raised her as his daughter.

Jane (later Claire)Clairmont

When Mary, Claire and Shelley returned to London in September 1814, Fanny was in the difficult position of wishing to see her sisters without upsetting their father and she balanced both relationships poorly, angering Godwin if she saw her sisters while her sisters ridiculed her for not having the courage to simply leave him and move in with them and Shelley. All through this time Fanny continued to beg Shelley to give Godwin money, while pressured by the fact both men were deeply in debt.

In February 1815 Mary gave birth to a child who later died and it was Fanny she called upon to support her through the episode, which only brought more of Godwin’s wrath down upon Fanny. Charles, Jane’s/Claire’s brother then also left home.

In January 1816 Mary gave birth to a second surviving child, whom she called William after her father. After this though Shelley, Mary and Claire left England once more, escaping debts and seeking to join Lord Byron abroad.

Shelley’s departure increased Godwin’s state of poverty and pressure on Fanny grew.

She argued with Mary before she left and they separated on ill-terms, but Fanny, ever the peacekeeper sought to repair the relationship in letters to her sisters. Again her gestures of affection and her desire to keep a close relationship with them was ignored.

Life became so difficult for Fanny in the Godwin household while they were away that when they returned again and took up residence in Bath, she began asking if she might join them in letters, and stating she wished to escape.

She was not welcomed, and on the 9th October 1816 Fanny took her own life.

She left her father’s house and went to Swansea, and her suicide must have been planned and long considered I should imagine. She posted letters to both her father and Mary in the midst of her journey to Swansea, from Bristol, writing to the two people who had torn her apart as she stood in the middle of their bitter war and scandal.

It is distressing to think she was born the daughter of a woman who had so strongly and publicly declared a desire for women to be free of the rule of men, and then both herself and her mother had ended up being ill-used by men, her mother by Fanny’s father, and Fanny by her mother’s second lover.

Whatever those letters said, and no one now knows as they were destroyed, both Shelley and her father were so disturbed by them they immediately set out for Swansea. They were too late.

Fanny took and overdose of laudanum to end her life. She had taken a room in an inn, the Mackworth Arms, and instructed the chambermaid not to disturb her. She was found dead the next day. Shelley and her father arrived the day after and Shelley was left to cover up her death, removing her name from her suicide note, and any evidence which might associate her name with her father or himself (suicide was an unbearable sin in those days and both Godwin and Shelley bore enough scandal they did not wish more).

She was buried without being recognized by either man and probably lies in an unmarked grave.

Another sorry end I’m afraid.

Mary’s suicide note –

‘I have long determined that the best thing I could do was to put an end to the existence of a being whose birth was unfortunate, and whose life has only been a series of pain to those persons who have hurt their health in endeavouring to promote her welfare. Perhaps to hear of my death will give you pain, but you will soon have the blessing of forgetting that such a creature ever existed as…’

The poem Shelley composed after her suicide which was written amongst various scribblings and doodles on a sheet of paper –

‘On Fanny Godwin

Her voice did quiver as we parted,

Yet knew I not that heart was broken,

From which it came, and I departed

Heeding not the words then spoken.

Misery–Oh Misery,

This world is all too wide for thee.’

Shelley

Sadly there are no pictures of Fanny, perhaps a reflection of how little she was appreciated by her family. But if you follow this link you can see the image of the letter Fanny’s father wrote to Shelley after her death, click on transcript to read the letter.

http://shelleysghost.bodleian.ox.ac.uk/?location_id=52#Description

And on this link is the letter Fanny wrote to Mary when Mary and Shelley left for the continent a second time and they had fallen out, which indicates the rope she played in the family’s tug of war. http://shelleysghost.bodleian.ox.ac.uk/?location_id=51#Description

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The Reckless Love of an Heir 

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The story of Emma Hart – Lady Hamilton – one of the scandalous women of history – including her relationship with Admiral Nelson

I learnt Emma’s story when I visited the English Heritage Ladies of Kenwood exhibition in Wellington Arch. One of the portraits on display was of Emma Hart at Prayer, and beside it there was a brief story about a woman who had been a mistress and become a wife. Of course I was fascinated so I had to find out more.

Emma was linked to Kenwood because she’d married Sir William Hamilton, a friend of the 2nd Earl and Countess of Mansfield but Lord Mansfield did not approve of his wife spending time with Emma.

So Emma’s story.

She was born on the 26th April 1765, the daughter of a blacksmith and called Amy or Emy Lyon. She was raised by her mother as her father had died when she was an infant, and in her young teens she was already in London earning a living through her beauty.

There are a few conflicting tails of how she was earning her living then. Some reports say she was the maid of an actress in Drury Lane but several concur that she spent time in a ‘temple of health’ more like a brothel. Although one report declares her role within the-quack-Dr Graham’s ‘Temple of Health’ was to pose as a living illustration.

The first man to secure her sole attentions was Sir Harry Featherstonehaugh of Uppark in Sussex. That relationship did not last long as Emma fell with child and Harry instantly abandoned her. But from here on Emma’s fortunes improved.

With her looks it did not take her long to find another man, The Hon. Charles Greville. At this time Emma was still only sixteen. Her child was sent to relatives in the country and Charles Greville took her as his paid mistress, setting her up with a house in Paddington Green where he may visit her often. She resided there as Mrs Emma Hart. No longer known as Amy Lyon.

In April 1782, Charles Greville decided to have his beautiful mistress painted for posterity and took her to the studios of George Romney. The artist fell in love with her.

Emma Hart as Circe

I have said before, it was a symptom of this era that man felt a need to be romantically inclined. Men competitively fawned about women, seeking their favour and women who lived on their looks encouraged it and flirted and hinted and teased right back, massaging men’s egos for all it was worth. Emma became George Romney’s addiction, in four years she sat a hundred times or more for him. He called her his muse and he painted her in numerous poses, finishing sixty paintings in total and becoming distracted from his more beneficial commissions.

Sir William Hamilton by Sir Joshua Reynolds

In August 1783 Emma met her future husband. Charles Greville’s uncle. He was the British Envoy in Naples, and he had returned to Britain with the remains of his first wife who he wished to bury in England. He enjoyed spending time with his nephew’s mistress and was as charmed by her as Charles and George Romney had been. He named her his ‘fair tea maker of Edgware Row.’ Lord Hamilton saw a Greek Goddess in Emma, thinking of the beautiful Roman and Italian sculptures he lived amongst in Naples. He commissioned Reynolds to paint her as bacchante and he took the portrait home with him when he returned.

Emma as bacchante

In 1785 Charles Greville wrote to his uncle – Charles was Lord Hamilton’s heir – complaining that he had financial difficulties. Lord Hamilton’s response was that Charles must marry and he must marry a women with a dowry not below £30,000 per year. Of course the other obvious implication was that Charles could no longer afford to keep Emma and he must give her up.

The letters which passed between London and Naples, between nephew and uncle, slowly developed a plan unknown to Emma. If Charles’s uncle took Emma then Charles would be released of his obligation to maintain her (most contracts with courtesans contained clauses for a separation fee and a future income once the woman was cast off, often men did not pay it).

The other benefit to Charles was that if his uncle was distracted by a beautiful young mistress he may never remarry and if he did not then it was more likely Charles might have his inheritance. If his uncle remarried there may yet be sons who would stand between Charles and any hope of his inheriting his uncle’s fortune.

Emma left London in 1786, alone, packed off to Naples by Charles Greville and leaving a grieving George Romney behind.

Emma Hart in Cavern

George Romney painted two pictures to express his grief. The first is of Emma, his ‘English Rose’ in the cavern’s of the Neapolitan coastline, looking heart-sore because he imagines her missing London.

The second was Emma in mourning dress, expressing George Romney’s own grief at the loss of his muse.

There is no doubt that Emma was passed from Charles to his uncle with out her consent, because letters are in existence which confirm her confusion. Three months after she had arrived in Naples she wrote to Charles. She had been waiting for his arrival. She had thought only that she had gone ahead of him and that he was to join her.

‘I have a language master, a singing master …but what is it for, if it was to amuse you I should be happy, but Greville… I am poor helpless and forlorn. I have lived with you for five years and you have sent me to a strange place no one prospect, me thinking you were coming to me; instead of which I was told I was to live with Sir W. No. I respect him, but no, never shall he perhaps live with me for a little while like you and send me to England, then what am I to do, what is to become of me.’

She did become Lord Hamilton’s mistress within six months, although her letters still recorded that she pined for Charles. It was not her choice at the time.

The Neapolitan court were drawn to Emma’s very English beauty with her auburn hair and Lord Hamilton encouraged her to pose for people in statuesque ‘attitudes’. When Johann Wolfgang Goethe a writer visited Naples in 1787 he wrote. ‘After many years of devotion to the arts and the study of nature, Hamilton has found the acme of these delights in the person of an English girl… with a beautiful face and a perfect figure… she lets down her hair and, with a few shawls, gives so much variety to her poses that the spectator can hardly believe his eyes.’

Emma married Lord Hamilton on a return visit to London in 1791, she was 26 and he 61 and by this point she had clearly grown accustomed to her fate as she is recorded as writing to Charles Greville ‘I love him tenderly.’ Before she married during her stay in London George Romney had her sit for him many times but after her marriage she never sat for him again as Lord Hamilton forbade it.

She was never accepted in English circles because she was considered too vulgar but in Naples her celebrity grew, and in August 1793 she met Admiral Nelson and played a part in securing the Kingdom of Naples allegiance with Britain through association with the Queen. Both Hamilton and Nelson believed her influential in the agreement.

After this Lord Hamilton fell ill but Emma continued performing her ‘attitudes’, though she also grew in size.

It was in 1798 Emma began her last and most notable affair.

Wounded with one arm amputated and blind in one eye, following his defeat of the French in Aboukir Bay, Nelson wrote to the Hamiltons. ‘I trust my mutilations will not cause me to be less welcome.’ Of course Emma would welcome the Hero of the Nile and she prepared a lavish welcome.

Emma was responsible for nursing Nelson back to health, as a maid and a mistress while Lord Hamilton treated Nelson as a friend and like a son. The lived ménage-à-trios for eighteen months in Naples, with Nelson’s ships in the bay responding to occasional action and when he helped the King and Queen flee to the safety of the court at Palermo, he took the Hamiltons with him. But rumours of their scandalous relationship were spreading. Emma became known for her drinking and her gambling and when she played at tables Nelson would always be seated directly behind her watching.

In June 1800, Nelson claimed to be too ill to continue in his post and although he had a wife in London, he remained mostly with the Hamiltons.

The cartoon below was drawn by James Gillroy in 1801, and depicts Emma in a classic attitude of despair, with her husband sleeping behind her while she looks out at Nelson’s departing ships, while spread about the floor are phallic symbols her husband was known to show an interest in, and emblems of her former beauty in statues. However more fool Gillroy for Emma’s size at the time was in part due the fact she was secretly carrying Nelson’s child, Horatia.

When Lord Hamilton died in 1803, Emma then lived with Nelson until he died too. In his will Nelson entrusted Emma’s care upon the nation. But George III wanted nothing to do with such an embarrassing social climber, especially as by this time she was a drunk and had a habit of displaying herself in public inappropriately.

As with other stories of women who lived upon their looks Emma’s end was not happy at all. She fled to Calais and died of alcoholism.

Jane Lark is a writer of authentic, passionate and emotional love stories.

See the side bar for details of Jane’s books, and Jane’s website www.janelark.co.uk to learn more about Jane. Or click  ‘like’ on Jane’s Facebook  page to see photo’s and learn historical facts from the Georgian, Regency and Victorian eras, which Jane publishes there. You can also follow Jane on twitter at @janelark