William was desperate to return to England, but this was not prudent while he was still so deeply in debt, as he would probably be arrested and thrown into debtors’ prison. Catherine, however, was free to go home and she longed to visit her mother, who was seriously ill. She also had the welfare of her children to consider; although William had employed numerous staff to attend to his every comfort, he still had not bothered to hire a tutor for the boys. By law, men had ultimate control and Catherine held little sway over the education and upbringing of her own children. Despite her numerous entreaties, William had totally neglected the boys’ schooling, insisting that mucking-out the stables was character-building. Although Will and James were nine and seven, they could barely read or write. Beau Brummell was among those who were shocked by the children’s behaviour. The boys were like feral creatures, wild, uneducated and always filthy from the stables. Even the angelic Victoria had learned obscene language from the grooms, and she frequently uttered the most coarse and vulgar oaths in French. Whenever her brothers annoyed her, the tiny three-year-old would hiss, ‘God damn you,’ or ‘Damn both your eyes.’1
One evening over dinner, Brummell was unusually tactful when he broached the subject with William, suggesting that Will and James should be mixing with genteel boys of their own age, rather than rough stable lads. Catherine agreed that the boys would benefit from a formal education and she suggested that she should take them back to England to get them settled in school. Speaking wistfully, she told William that the trip would also give her the opportunity to visit her family after an absence of over two years. This was not an unreasonable request, especially in light of everything Catherine had been through; it was natural for her to want to see her mother. William would not hear of it; he was afraid that if his wife left France with the children, she might be tempted to remain in England and abandon him.
With his exile abroad now prolonged indefinitely, William delegated yet another task to faithful Shawe, asking him to find a tutor for the boys. Having neglected the children’s education thus far, William was characteristically deluded when he wrote to Shawe, gushing, ‘I feel more alive to the good education of my children than I do to any other circumstances of my life.’2
Mr Pitman came with such glowing references and qualifications, William wrote and urged for him to be sent over as soon as possible:
My Dear Shawe, your account of Mr Pitman . . . is so satisfactory I beg you to see him immediately, and make with him the following arrangement. That he shall live in my family, have a separate table for the two boys and himself, and his salary of £250 per annum . . . You must explain to him that they are young, wild, and quite uneducated; they know nothing, but I believe they have imbibed no ill principles.3
John Pitman was a kindly, spare, nervous man with grey hair and spectacles. Within days of taking up his post, he was already wary of his employer, Mr Long Wellesley, who could be charming in one instant and volatile the next. The tutor had been warned that the children were uneducated, but he was still appalled by their behaviour. Pitman was particularly ‘surprised and shocked on hearing the boys use some very disgusting expressions . . . and vulgar oaths in French. When he reproved them, young Will told him that his father . . . liked it, and had always allowed him to do so.’4 It seemed that Mr Wellesley believed it was ‘manly’ to educate his sons in the ways of the world and he fully intended to take his sons along to ‘bull-baits, dog-fights, cock-fights and all other manly sports’.5
Although Mr Pitman was tempted to give up his position and return to England, the children had many endearing qualities and he grew attached to them very quickly. The younger boy, James, was a lot like his father: charming, athletic and completely wild. The older boy, Will, was slower and easily led astray by his forceful younger brother. Will was given to violent rages, but was always tearful and contrite afterwards, cuddling up to his tutor for comfort. The dedicated gentleman stayed because he felt he had a duty to them. Pitman believed that if he walked out at this delicate point in their development, they might become totally irredeemable.
As always, William’s parents were supportive and they travelled to Calais immediately after the auction to console their son. By now, plain old Mr Pole had gained recognition for his achievements as Master of the Mint, and he was raised to the peerage in July 1821. He now deservedly held a title – Baron Maryborough.
Lord and Lady Maryborough were perfect role models. With a marriage that would span a period of sixty-two years, they were steady, reliable people, devoted to each other and their children. Unfortunately, William had never listened to their advice; he was reckless and headstrong from a young age, ignoring his father’s many warnings about extravagance. This had already resulted in one exile when, aged sixteen, William had been sent on diplomatic postings to avoid prosecution for debts. At the time, his father explained the difficulties he experienced providing for William’s expenses, pleading with him, ‘I hope you will . . . confine your ideas and your expenses within the just bounds of propriety.’6
Despite this, William had continued to spend lavishly, particularly when he was working at the embassy in Constantinople, buying expensive gifts to impress people. His father had written affectionately and tactfully:
It is with extreme pain that I am forced to place any limits to the natural generosity of your temper, which I will not call extravagance for I am sure it deserves a better name . . . You are very kind to think of sending presents to me and your Mother. But we beg you will not put yourself to one farthing expense on our accounts . . . The best present you can make us is such a testimony of your good conduct and advancement as we have lately received . . . all we wish for is a continuance of your celebrity.7
Ironically, William had declared war on Turkey shortly after this letter was written. Nevertheless, Lord and Lady Maryborough had continued to cajole and compliment their son to keep him on side, but William did not learn. Fifteen years on, he found himself in the same predicament, stranded abroad in order to avoid debtors’ prison.
Prior to the auction, William had not asked his parents for help or advice, possibly because he was too proud. At this point, however, Lord Maryborough rallied in support, stepping in to try to obtain a mortgage against his own estate in Ballyfin. Unfortunately, Lord Maryborough was unable to raise any money, because the recession had drastically reduced the value of his land in Ireland. Master of the Mint for nine years, Lord Maryborough was renowned for his financial acumen, and he became one of the four trustees appointed to resolve William’s affairs in England. William genuinely believed that his shrewd father would be able to work miracles and get him home within one year. However, on 16 August 1822, Lord Maryborough wrote to him with bad news: ‘Upon the most painful examination of every document . . . [the trustees] are unanimous in our opinion that there is not the most faint hope of effecting anything essential for you in a lesser period than five years.’8
William was devastated to learn that he would not be able to return to England for such a long period of time. His father also added, ‘I hope you will seriously consider the absolute necessity of the strictest economy.’9 For William, this sermon was an unwelcome reprise of his youth.
By now both William and Catherine had grown tired of France and they were desperate to move on. Naples seemed like a good option, particularly as Catherine had always longed to go on a Grand Tour of Italy, taking in the sights and the architecture. Before setting off on such a long trip, however, she would have appreciated the opportunity to cross the Channel to visit her sick mother. A more benevolent man may have relented, but William insisted they set off immediately, maintaining that they needed to cross the Alps before it snowed. On 16 September 1822, they left for Naples in a blaze of style and ceremony. A parade of equipages conveyed the family, their luggage and their servants. Their entourage included Henry Bicknell the butler, John Meara the valet and Mr Pitman the tutor. Streaming banners of Wellesley blue fluttered from all the carriage windows, with coachmen kitted out in matching liveries. The Long Wellesleys were embarking on a new adventure that would prove to be even more shocking than the last.