1814
Curious about the new interiors at Wanstead, the public appetite was whetted when newspapers announced that Mr Long Wellesley would be hosting a grand fete at Wanstead in June 1814, to mark the baptism of his infant son.1 The christening of an heir was a momentous occasion, and the celebration would be all the more spectacular because it coincided with the triumphant return of Wellington, victorious from the Peninsular War. His army had liberated Spain after driving the French back across the Pyrenees. When Napoleon finally surrendered himself, he was imprisoned on the island of Elba, and the whole of England rejoiced. On 3 May 1814, Arthur Wellesley was awarded the title Duke of Wellington, in recognition of his success. The long and expensive war was finally over, and the working classes hoped that now the starvation and hardship they had endured for many years were finally coming to an end.
William was highly gratified to have a national hero in the family. There could not have been a more opportune moment for him to show off his newly refurbished home while at the same time exhibiting his powerful family connections. Wellington’s tremendous success was good for the entire Wellesley clan, and with the family back in favour, a top job was found for William’s father. Mr Pole had been striving away in the background of government for many years, and his contribution was finally acknowledged when he was awarded the prestigious position of Master of the Mint, which included a seat in the Cabinet. With rewards for the Wellesley family being handed out, William hoped there would be something in it for him.
On returning to England at the end of June 1814, the Duke of Wellington received standing ovations wherever he went and victory celebrations were held in his honour at Vauxhall Gardens and other public parks. Keen to maximize his own celebrity, William made sure to be seen in public with his famous uncle as often as possible. Just days after Wellington arrived back in London, William took him out for the evening. Rumours abounded that the conquering hero would be present at the opera on Saturday night and crowds flocked to the Drury Lane Theatre. William’s private box was festooned with garlands of laurel, keeping alive expectations of an appearance throughout the performance of Artimidoro. In the middle of the ballet, the audience noticed that the noble duke had surreptitiously slipped into the theatre and was sitting in the box. The whole assembly rose and burst into cheers of welcome. The orchestra struck up ‘See, the Conquering Hero Comes’ and was drowned out by singing from a thousand voices. His Grace modestly kept back, but William pushed up against him, jostling him into the limelight. Standing shoulder to shoulder with his uncle, William waved to the crowd and soaked up the adulation. The torrent of applause continued for several minutes, as Wellington bowed respectfully to the company. He was genuinely moved by their enthusiasm, but when the ovation showed no signs of abating he stepped back into the shadow. After some time the ballet was permitted to go on, but the ripple of excitement stayed in the theatre for the rest of the evening.2
William’s association with Wellington gave him access to the highest circles in Europe. The grand fete at Wanstead was to take place on 29 June 1814, but the planned baptism was sidelined in favour of a lavish celebration honouring the Duke of Wellington, thus ensuring that royalty and dignitaries from across Europe would feel obliged to attend. Wanstead House had been a hive of activity for a full nine months. Dozens of gardeners planted beds of brightly coloured blooms, decorators hung new wall coverings, velvet curtains appeared on the windows and Axminster sent a procession of carriages loaded down with thick rolls of silk carpets. Days before the fete, fresh produce was gathered from around the estate, the culmination of many months of planning and hard work. Lambs, pigs, cows and deer were slaughtered, farm labourers filed through the kitchens wheeling great barrows of fresh vegetables, gardeners carried in exotic fruit lovingly cultivated in the hothouses, and florists made up tasteful displays for the tables.
On the day of the fete, the interconnecting doors of the assembly rooms were thrown open, so that guests could appreciate the perfectly coordinated décor. Wanstead House had reached the height of perfection: Sir Josiah’s gardens were in full bloom; Sir Richard’s Palladian palace was tastefully renovated; Sir John’s priceless art collection was out on display. William, too, was looking exceptionally elegant. Sartorially astute, he set a new trend that evening by wearing a tailcoat with black silk lapels perfectly offset by an ‘ample tie of black silk . . . he was the embodied perfection of a man of fashion’.3 It was the first time a black tie appeared in society, but the style was so striking it became instantly famous.4 Even Brummell approved, conceding that this innovation was suitably elegant and restrained. The black tie has remained the ultimate in gentlemen’s formal evening wear ever since.
Around six o’clock a procession of state carriages made their way to Wanstead House, conveying the Duke of Wellington, the Prince Regent, the Duke of York and the Prussian Princes Frederick-William and Henry.5 As carriages rattled through the stone gateposts, blazing torches flamed along the driveway, creating theatre and illuminating the stately avenue of elms when dusk fell. William had organized the event down to the finest detail, borrowing chefs, cooks, waiters and stable hands from his friends and neighbours. Liveried footmen directed the incoming carriages in a clockwise direction around the lake. After guests alighted at the front steps, their carriages and coachmen were led away to nearby stables, to be fed and watered in preparation for their journey home.
A military band played in the portico while William and Catherine stood in the Great Hall proudly presenting the Duke of Wellington to the guests waiting in line. When everyone had assembled, the infant William Richard Arthur Pole Tylney Long Wellesley was christened, swaddled in a regal green and gold damask table cover that had been seized by Wellington from Joseph Bonaparte’s carriage.6 The Iron Duke presented the trophy to Catherine, who promised to preserve the cloth for future generations, as a symbol of Wellesley valour. An altar was set up against the rear wall of the Ballroom and a respectful silence fell over the proceedings as Reverend William Gilly performed the rite. Throughout the entire ceremony, the Duke of Wellington cradled the child in his arms, ‘beaming with benevolence, and free from every trace of the cares of war or politics . . . a subject worthy of the pencil of the finest painter’.7
Supper tables were laid for 150 guests, all seated in the Great Hall surrounded by ancient statues, sparkling chandeliers and a display of rare gold plate.8 The top table was on a raised platform, where the most distinguished guests were enthroned on ebony dining chairs once owned by Elizabeth I. When supper was served, a hundred footmen paraded into the Great Hall, each carrying a silver platter at shoulder height. Fine wine was brought up from the well-stocked cellars with suitable vintages to accompany each course. The food was of such quality and abundance that Frances, Lady Shelley, remarked, ‘It was the most magnificent banquet I ever saw.’9 After everyone had raised their glasses to the king’s health, the Prince Regent made a neat speech proposing a toast to the Duke of Wellington. Smiling broadly, the Iron Duke rose to reply, although he seemed to regard all the pageantry and the honours of that day as nonsense and fun.
Around 200 more guests arrived later that evening for the Grand Ball.10 Wellington opened the proceedings by dancing a polonaise, promenading his partner around the Ballroom with a long line of couples gliding behind him in order of rank. The Prussian General Blücher joined in and danced a German country dance, skipping down the middle of the room with William’s sister, Lady Burghersh, on his arm. Old Platoff, Hetman of the Cossacks, then performed his own national dance, which involved ‘stamping his feet like a horse and nodding his head. The whole thing was exquisitely ludicrous and the Duke could not help joining in the laughter.’11 Festivities did not break up until eight in the morning, when forty close friends and family sat down to an intimate breakfast in the Small Oak Dining Room.
The event was a triumph for William but it was only a trial run. Two years later, on 14 August 1816, he would host a fete on an even grander scale. On this occasion supper tables were laid for 550 guests, with 150 seated in the Great Hall, 200 in the adjoining Salon and 200 in the Grand Dining Room. One newspaper recorded:
Upwards of 500 of the first rank and fashion sat down to a most splendid supper . . . The table was covered with every variety and delicacy that the season affords . . . interspersed with temples, pyramids, and other ornamental devices, richly wrought in the highest style of taste on silver wire-work. The dessert was truly splendid, and the fruits of the most exquisite kind, with every possible variety.12
After this supper, 600 more guests arrived for the Grand Ball. ‘Three bands of music played waltzes, cotillions, and country dances, and went merrily round after supper, in various rooms, during the whole night.’13 At the height of the party, around 1,100 revellers were inside the house, dancing and feasting. It was ‘universally allowed that a more splendid entertainment had never been witnessed, except the first grand fete given by the Prince Regent at Carlton House’.14 Entertaining on this scale was usually reserved for royalty. The Examiner compared William’s extravagance to the court of Henry VIII, remarking, ‘The private hospitalities of England, however celebrated, furnish no precedent, in expense, variety, and extent, since the days of Cardinal Wolsey.’15
Following the fete in 1814, William and Catherine’s most intimate circle stayed on at Wanstead for a few nights to participate in a house party. The English elite were relentless in their pursuit of pleasure, but they often found gratification in its most rarefied and refined forms. Full of creativity, many spent their leisure time cultivating their favourite pastime to an extremely high standard. There were accomplished poets such as Byron and Shelley, alongside many talented musicians, singers, composers, playwrights, artists and painters. Owing to this, house parties were imaginative affairs, with the character varying from house to house depending on the interests of the hosts. Undeniably, these gatherings also provided guests with the ideal opportunity to sneak about and indulge in illicit sexual exploits. Devonshire House, the town house of the fifth Duke of Devonshire, was ‘the setting of so many intrigues’ as well as the place for serious political discussion.16
It had become fashionable for the aristocracy to have little theatres in their homes, where famous actors or singers performed alongside family members eager to display their talent. The Priory, for example, country seat of the Abercorns, was renowned for amateur dramatics, engaging guests in full-scale theatrical productions.17 Everyone got involved in some capacity, writing scenes and sketches, playing piano or painting scenery. Various professionals were recruited to oversee the proceedings, including the famous painter Thomas Lawrence for the stage sets and Mrs John Kemble to coach the actors.18 The middle classes also had a taste for the theatre and boasted the likes of Keats, Wordsworth, Coleridge and Blake among their ranks. In Mansfield Park, Jane Austen illustrates the bourgeois fascination for amateur theatricals when her characters stage the scandalous play Lovers’ Vows. Austen successfully captures the hilarity and sexual thrill that play-acting evokes, demonstrating why it was such a popular activity and perfectly suited to house parties.
As an accomplished sportsman, William’s greatest passions were horses and carousing. His house parties would have been high-spirited affairs, which revolved around hunting, fine dining, music and dancing. There were plenty of other diversions for guests as the pleasure grounds at Wanstead boasted boating lakes, scenic walks and follies such as the Temple, which was perfect for open-air concerts. Indoors, there was the Billiards Room, Music Room and well-stocked Library. With so many options at his disposal, William undoubtedly had many novel amusements planned.
No records exist to tell us definitively who attended this particular house party at Wanstead. However, as all three of William’s sisters were in the process of moving abroad, the gathering was probably to allow the family to spend quality time together before they emigrated. The sisters were known in society as ‘The Three Graces’, and renowned for their beauty and vivacity. Priscilla, Lady Burghersh, was relocating to Florence where her husband would become the Envoy Extraordinary and Minister Plenipotentiary. Emily, Lady Fitzroy Somerset was heading to Paris, as her husband was to become Private Secretary to Wellington. Mary Bagot would be settling furthest away as her husband, Charles Bagot, was appointed Envoy Extraordinary and Minister Plenipotentiary to the United States (where he would become famous as the man who defined the border between British North America, now Canada, and the United States). In fact, it was possibly the last time all the siblings were together under one roof.
Visiting Wanstead was like staying at an opulent boutique hotel. Vases bursting with fresh flowers scented all the rooms. Luxurious toiletries stood beside the washstands: thick towels, china dishes of perfumed soaps, bottles of expensive French scents, plus trays of brushes and other grooming utensils.19 On the state floor, there were four magnificent bedchambers with adjoining en suites. The most exquisite of these was the Blue Damask Suite overlooking the front gardens and lake. A massive four-poster dominated the bedroom, six feet wide and sixteen feet high, with an elaborately carved oak frame. The dressing area contained a particularly beautiful French buhl armoire, inlaid with elaborate gilt and tortoiseshell mouldings and friezes of arabesque design, together with a matching dressing table and escritoire. The adjoining Blue Damask Dressing Room was fitted up with wardrobes, full-length cheval mirrors and a bidet, as well as a washstand with china basins and ewers.
Dinner on the first evening would have been a relaxed affair, as the assembled party knew each other intimately. Guest speakers were invited to keep discussions interesting, while the addition of one or two raconteurs, such as Sheridan or Beau Brummell, provided amusement. Following the meal it was customary for guests to entertain each other by singing or playing instruments. Lord Burghersh was a talented musician well up to the task and Catherine was one of the ladies present who played piano beautifully. Wanstead House had an exquisite music room fitted out for this purpose, complete with Catherine’s grand piano, harpsichord and harp. The merriment would have continued late into the night with games of charades and card tables laid out for those who wished to play a few hands of faro.
Some aristocratic houses were like gambling dens, where the stakes set at card tables were so high, guests left parties thousands of pounds poorer. Even the well-heeled Duchess of Devonshire described how sickened she felt by her gambling losses, confessing to debts so large they almost bankrupted her. She wrote, ‘I never had the courage to own it . . . I have kept absolute ruin to myself scarcely off.’20 Brummell, too, had mixed fortunes at gambling. In 1813, he had reputedly won £26,000 at one card game and a further £30,000 from betting on horse races.21 But in the following year, losses spiralled out of control, leaving him deeply in debt and reliant on the benevolence of his friends. Guests at Wanstead were safe from this fate, however, because – contrary to popular belief – William was not a gambler. Later in life he successfully sued the Sunday Times after they printed an article stating that he had lost huge amounts at the gaming tables.22 During the libel action, William told the court that he had ‘never lost by gaming, any sum amounting to £500, or that he ever won above £50, or ever played for more than £20’.23 In response, the Sunday Times could produce no evidence of William’s gambling because his name did not appear in any betting books. As a result, the newspaper was forced to retract the statement and print an apology.24
William had a highly competitive nature and he enjoyed winning simply for the sport. Rather than gambling, he would place a bet on his own abilities, challenging his friends to a race on horseback or a shooting match, for a stake of no more than £20. During the house party he would certainly have organized one of his legendary hunting parties, resplendent with pomp and pageantry, inviting local gentry along to make up the numbers. For those guests who did not bring their own mounts, William had a stable full of thoroughbreds at their disposal. A hunt breakfast would have followed, washed down with generous quantities of alcohol.
While the men were out hunting, Catherine and the other ladies would have started their day in a more leisurely fashion with a breakfast tray in bed. After this they were free to explore the pleasure grounds, strolling together along the tree-lined vista to the finger of water, where pleasure boats bobbed invitingly. If the weather was fine, lunch may well have been served outdoors on the lawns, with tables and chairs set up under awnings to protect them from the sun. Enjoying each other’s company, the gathering was an opportunity for William’s sisters to get to know Catherine. They found her refreshingly genuine and unspoilt. Whereas their brother enjoyed being the centre of attention, Catherine excelled at making others feel special by putting them at ease and encouraging them to talk. Mary would later remark that Catherine was ‘an angel . . . all virtues and excellencies’.25 Gossiping among themselves, the sisters were pleased to observe that William seemed to have given up his flirtations, to settle down very happily with his wife.26 Emily declared that William was ‘in high delight’, stating that she was gratified to see him expressing ‘proper feeling’ towards Catherine.27
William was keen to impress his sisters and show them how far he had come since his reckless teenage years. Growing up, he had been closest to Mary, often confiding his misdeeds to her. After one incident Mary had written to him, ‘I have not mentioned your letter to Mamma, for I think it would almost kill her!’28 Spending time with his siblings, William took them on a behind-the-scenes tour of the house. Visitors to Wanstead were familiar with the rooms on the principal state floor, but very few were granted access to the family apartments on the ground floor. William’s private sanctuary was a particularly impressive set of rooms. His study was bright and airy with views of the gardens spilling in through three generously sized windows. The particularly splendid French buhl library table formed the centrepiece, inlaid with an intricate design in pure gold. Flamboyant purple morocco sofa and chairs provided an artistic splash of colour, offsetting the rich golden browns of the furniture and velvet curtains. No doubt the sisters raised an eyebrow at the sight of two huge rosewood bookcases stuffed full of William’s political literature and legal reference books – not bad for someone who had never particularly enjoyed reading. The adjoining rooms testified to their brother’s obsession with grooming and preening. His bedchamber was comfortably furnished with solid, masculine, mahogany furniture. His dressing room contained an innovation not often seen in England – a large marble bath plumbed in with hot and cold running water. Numerous brushes and grooming utensils were displayed on a cabinet, with nine bottles of scent lined up neatly beside the washstand. The three sisters were cheered by all the positive changes they detected in William. He was clearly in his element, thoroughly relishing his role as lord of the manor. They were also impressed by his resolve to educate himself for a career in politics, and heartened by his devotion to his wife. William seemed to have settled very happily into married life. As for Catherine, the sisters noted that she was completely smitten with William. Emily remarked, ‘She devours him with her eyes, and she is desperately in love.’ 29
Life at Wanstead, however, was not all fun and games for William. One cold morning in March 1813 he came close to being murdered on his own doorstep. Running the estate was arduous and there were many contentious issues to deal with. Despite possessing an inherently genial nature, William could be an argumentative man who refused to back down on certain matters. Natural stubbornness was compounded by the fact that, as a man of wealth and privilege, he was accustomed to getting his own way. Over the course of his lifetime he was involved in an inordinate amount of disputes and litigation. During the first months of his marriage he became embroiled in a disagreement with his neighbours, and local people eventually took him to court after he blocked access to Wanstead Park by locking the gates and digging trenches to stop trespassers. Tensions were high as locals argued that the park had been an important recreational facility for many centuries; a sanctuary where working folk could escape for an hour or two, to take a scenic stroll or enjoy a family picnic.
On 12 March 1813, a total of thirty-two locals appeared to give evidence at the trial The King v Long Wellesley, held at Chelmsford Assizes. A carriage driver from the Red Lion in Ilford declared that Wanstead Park was his favoured destination when taking clients for pleasure rides, a magistrate recalled playing in the grounds since the age of four and a Whitechapel undertaker liked to divert his funeral cortèges through the park to give the dead ‘a final turn around the parish’.30 No one disputed Long Wellesley’s legal ownership of the land; their concern was that he had meddled with tradition by refusing unrestricted entry. The presiding judge agreed and directed the jury to rule in favour of the local community. Following the trial, William built Blake Hall Road to redirect traffic around the estate. Farmers ignored the new thoroughfare and continued to drive their hefty carts, laden with produce, right through the gardens. Eventually, in 1817, William used his position as an MP to overturn the court order by a private Act of Parliament. Generous in victory, he granted the public access to his pleasure grounds on Saturdays, but from then onwards the park was strictly out of bounds to all commercial traffic.
William’s fight to close the park was not due to simple possessiveness; he desperately needed to safeguard his family. Having received various threats, he believed that they were in real danger from fanatics, or criminals hoping to extort money. This fear was exacerbated after he was attacked on his doorstep by an early-morning caller at Wanstead House. Visibly deranged, the man lunged at William with a large carving knife; only the strength and bravery of attending servants prevented a tragedy. It transpired that the assailant was Catherine’s stalker, Mr Scott, who had continually besieged her house and waylaid her carriage at Draycot. He had recently escaped from a Norwich madhouse. On the morning of 12 March 1813, William appeared at Walthamstow magistrates to give evidence against Scott, who was remanded to Barking Bride-well prison.31 The incident made William even more determined to keep people off his land: to protect his property, to preserve his privacy and to safeguard his family.
The family’s increasing need for privacy and personal security highlighted the challenges facing those caught up in the developing celebrity culture. William had his wife’s wholehearted support in closing Wanstead Park. Catherine sincerely hoped that this would be the last that they saw of the madman Scott and others like him, but she would continue to encounter threats and danger from various quarters.