39. Strain Every Nerve

DRAYCOT, APRIL 1825

Almost one year had passed since Catherine had separated from her husband but she was still living in fear, terrorized by his constant demands and menaces. Now he was planning to return to England to take away her children. William had already damaged her life beyond repair, destroying her health, happiness and peace of mind, not to mention her houses and her fortune. Catherine had suffered her fair share of heartache but there was nothing more excruciating than watching her children suffer; she refused to stand back and let William ruin their lives. His recent conduct had clearly demonstrated the type of father he would be: encouraging his young boys to ride their horses recklessly, utter obscene oaths, get drunk and debauch at every opportunity.

With the Bligh v Wellesley adultery case pending, Catherine knew that the salacious details of William’s affair would soon be raked over by the press and she would lose credibility if she did not react. One of the perils of celebrity is judgement by the court of public opinion. She was aware that the eyes of the nation were on her and the public would adjudicate over her next move. She was part of a culture that for the most part accepted male superiority. Women’s rights were sadly neglected, but faced with the prospect of losing her children, the unfairness of the system certainly hit home for Catherine. Filled with righteous indignation, she resolved to challenge the status quo and fight for custody. Aside from personal motivations, Catherine was conscious of her public image and mindful of the fact that other women looked up to her – what she did next would set the trend for wives in similar situations. For all these reasons, both public and private, she felt compelled to make a stand. Writing to Dr Bulkeley, she stated her intention to fight the system: ‘I have shown patience and forbearance enough, it is full time that I should assert my rights; I am resolved to do so, they will find me firm.’1

Catherine’s insistence on asserting her ‘rights’ was part of a growing tide of rebellion among women, which we now recognize as the early stirrings of feminism. Post-Peterloo, ideals were changing rapidly and people were questioning traditional customs, morals and beliefs. In this climate, the issue of child custody loomed large. A valiant woman was needed to challenge the status quo, and it was Catherine Long Wellesley who took up the gauntlet. Prior to her marriage, she had been a resourceful and daring woman, involved at the sharp edge of business and well able to handle unpalatable situations when necessary. She was an innovator, who had pushed the boundaries of propriety on many occasions, dealing with problems involving blackmailers and mistresses. Now that she had regained her confidence, she was ready to publicly challenge her husband, instigating a court case that would shake the establishment to the core.

Catherine’s philanthropic family included visionaries such as the seventh Earl of Shaftesbury and Lord John Russell, who would lead the fight for social reform. One of the biggest influences in her life was Bartholomew Bouverie, her father’s nephew and best friend, who was a member of the Shaftesbury family. Sir James Tylney Long had thought so highly of Bouverie he had appointed him guardian to his children in his will.2 Bouverie served as a father figure to Catherine, offering advice and protecting her interests. Perhaps it was his influence that encouraged her to proceed as she did. Urging Catherine to commence legal proceedings, he explained that as matters stood, her husband could move into Draycot at any time, even bringing along his mistress if he wished! To protect against any further molestation, Bouverie recommended that Catherine should ‘resort to Parliament, where a Bill of Divorce would reinstate the entire possession of all your property’.3 In the 1820s, however, it was virtually impossible for a woman to obtain a divorce, and Bouverie admitted, ‘a Bill of Divorce, instituted at the suit of the wife, has been rarely granted’.4

Bouverie also held out little hope that Catherine would gain custody of the children and he warned, ‘You would labour under great difficulty . . . interfering with a Father’s authority.’5 Henry Windsor, Catherine’s uncle, was equally pessimistic about her chances and he informed her, ‘There seems to be only one case on record, of it having succeeded, and that was one of a most atrocious nature.’6

Windsor was probably referring to the notorious custody battle that had involved the infamous Lord Byron. In 1816, Lady Byron had filed for legal separation along with custody of her baby daughter, after private communication with the Lord Chancellor. With the nature of her allegations shrouded in mystery, her supporters fuelled rumours of sodomy, incest and rape of a ten-year-old girl. As a result, the poet faced judgement by the court of public opinion. Blackwood’s Magazine printed a particularly damning article:

It appears in short, as if this miserable man, having exhausted every species of sensual gratification – having drained the cup of sin even to its bitterest dregs – were resolved to show us that he is no longer a human being in his frailties, but a cool, unconcerned fiend.7

Byron submitted to his wife’s demands by signing a private agreement, and then he promptly left England for good.8 From exile he wrote in his own defence, ‘I was accused of every monstrous vice by public rumour and private rancour . . . I felt that England was unfit for me.’9

In retaliation, the poet’s friends orchestrated a malicious backlash against Lady Byron, branding her ‘the foulest slanderer . . . the vilest of criminals’.10 By the time they had finished, her reputation was also in tatters and she was shunned by society.

The couple settled matters out of court by signing a private Deed of Separation that included a caveat relating to the child. Almost a decade had passed and no other woman had dared to instigate custody proceedings in Chancery. In view of Lady Byron’s ordeal, it would take a great deal of courage for Catherine to commence proceedings against William. The timing could not have been worse because Lord Byron had recently returned from exile in a casket. Sympathy for him was at its height as the hearts of men were wrung with pity for his sorrows.

The Byron custody suit was never tested in a court of law. This meant that Catherine’s action would be groundbreaking. Her advisors had informed her that a legal separation would not suffice; only a Bill of Divorce would protect her against ‘further molestation . . . and reinstate her property’. An Act of Parliament was required in order to grant a divorce; from 1800 to 1830 there were around a hundred petitions, of which seventy-five were granted.11 A vast proportion came from childless men desperate for an heir – only a handful were instituted by women.12 Divorce, particularly one instigated by a woman, was more or less taboo and, if she decided to proceed, Catherine was in danger of suffering public disgrace. However, she had already stated her resolve to separate from William ‘at every hazard and at every risk’.13 Taking unprecedented steps, Catherine decided to file for divorce, petitioning at the same time for custody of her children. Knowing that William would avail himself of the best lawyers, she needed to arm herself with first-rate representation. She hired the services of Mr Julius Hutchinson, of Lincoln’s Inn, whose practice was right beside the Courts of Chancery. Hutchinson held several long meetings with Catherine, during which he established the grounds for her case.

Various double standards enshrined in law made it difficult for women to leave their husbands. A man could divorce his spouse for adultery, but the law made it much harder for a woman, who had to prove cruelty and desertion in addition to her husband’s infidelity. The epistle Catherine had sent to Lord Maryborough one year earlier proved invaluable. The letter was much more than a simple cry for help – it clearly laid out Catherine’s grounds for divorce. Alluding to her husband’s cruelty, she described the ‘miseries . . . insult and degradation . . . and wrongs he has heaped upon me’. Desertion was also suggested through continual repetition of the word ‘abandon’, particularly when she resolved to ‘separate myself from a husband who already in conduct has abandoned me’. She also made it clear that she had tried everything in her power to ‘reconcile’ with her husband, while also laying down generous ‘terms’, offering to pay off the mistress.

This letter demonstrated that although Catherine was mild-mannered, she was not foolish or weak. Far from being the impassioned ramblings of a distraught woman, the narrative had been shrewdly calculated to record her position unequivocally. Catherine had even primed the perfect witness to collaborate her version of events – William’s own father! Catherine made him complicit when she wrote, ‘You are, my dear Lord Maryborough, but too well acquainted with the miseries I have endured for many months past from the conduct of my husband.’

Despite William’s many attempts to escape from his mistress, however half-hearted they may have been, Catherine had heard from many sources that they were back together. On hearing that William was still living with Mrs Bligh, the solicitor gave Catherine some excellent advice regarding alimony payments. He told her that she must stop sending William money, as she could be accused of furnishing him with the means to continue his adultery. In effect, she was aiding and abetting his life of vice.

Hutchinson was impressed by the fact that Catherine had gathered together such a strong body of evidence to support her case, including witnesses plus many incriminating letters written by William. Although Hutchinson assured Catherine that she had grounds for divorce, he warned that it would be a long and difficult process.

An even greater hurdle to surmount was the fact that English law granted fathers ultimate parental control. With the odds stacked firmly against her, Catherine’s decision to fight for custody of her children was unprecedented. Making her case, she told her solicitor that William would corrupt their minds and lead them along a path of self-destruction. Hutchinson was appalled when he heard the circumstances: William had neglected the boys’ education for two years, allowing them to run wild in the stables and pick up foul language from the grooms. He had also encouraged his sons to drink and swear, while ridiculing their mother’s values and beliefs. Hutchinson was particularly disgusted by William’s inappropriate behaviour in front of the children, flaunting his mistress in the family home, even permitting her to caress him intimately, in full view. With steely determination Catherine told her solicitor, ‘I earnestly trust, then, I shall be considered the fittest parent of the two to have the care of such treasures; I shall strain every nerve to obtain this desired object.’14

Despite all he had heard, Hutchinson informed Catherine that it was highly unlikely that she would get custody of the children. Frustrated, Catherine replied: ‘My children are now uncontaminated by bad example! They are growing happier by the day, and acquiring habits of virtue. I shudder to think of the fatal consequences of their being placed under their father’s roof, where they would hear and see vice upheld and admired, and religion and morality turned into ridicule every day.’15

This made no difference whatsoever. Hutchinson warned that she faced an impossible task – no woman had ever fought for custody of her children in a court of law. Nevertheless, she was determined to go ahead. Like other members of her family, she would join the fight for social justice. In order to succeed, however, Catherine would have to overturn the law of the land.