1826
Following the death of his wife, William dropped the use of her surname. The press and everyone else followed suit; from then onwards he would be known simply as Mr Wellesley. William was shocked to discover that his wife had left her affairs in such good order that the monumental custody battle would still go ahead. Even though she did not live to see the trial, she had succeeded in the first step of the process, making her three children Wards of Chancery pending the outcome of the hearing.
Catherine had stated her case very clearly in a series of statements and letters to her solicitor, secure in the knowledge that there were numerous witnesses to corroborate her story. She based her case on the grounds that her husband was an ‘unfit parent’, claiming that William ‘had been guilty of the grossest adultery; that he had brought up his children in a course of swearing and blasphemy’, and that he did not have finances to support them.1
The notion that a man could be an unfit parent was radical. The custody battle Wellesley v Beaufort provoked nationwide reflection and debate, exploring this concept for the first time. Wellesley v Beaufort was sufficiently high profile to capture the public imagination, divide opinion and challenge the status quo. All classes in society took an interest in public affairs, and newspapers represented ‘a genuinely wide body of opinion which engaged in a vigorous and frequently polarised debate’.2
People talked about the court case in coffee houses, factories, shops and taprooms all over England. Illiteracy did not mean that people were ill-informed. Daily news bulletins spilt out into the streets through the media of newspapers, posters and the colourful caricatures that filled the print-shop windows. Consumption of newspapers was social rather than solitary, with audiences gathering in alehouses to be entertained by Cobbett’s Political Register or other publications that were read aloud. Debating societies, lecture rooms and public meetings were also used to discuss issues of the day. Coffee houses and reading rooms offered a variety of newspapers and periodicals. In 1815, the proprietor of Crown Coffee-House in Haymarket served around 1,800 customers every day, attributing his success to his stock of forty-three dailies, ‘five or six copies of some, eight of the Morning Chronicle’.3 In the home, individuals often read aloud to family and guests after dinner, in grand salons as well as humble abodes. Such social consumption meant that the daily news reached a considerable proportion of the population and quite naturally led to comment and debate.
One week after Catherine’s death, the Evening Herald stated, ‘The premature death of an amiable lady . . . furnishes a lasting lesson to the heartlessness of too many of the men of the present age.’4 The comment struck a chord and was quoted and reprinted in several other newspapers. For several decades national identity had been inexorably linked to liberty and freedom, with many impassioned speeches about the Rights of Freeborn Englishmen. The most pertinent term here was the word ‘men’ – women were overlooked in the fight for reform. Catherine lived in an entirely patriarchal society where the rights of women were sadly neglected.
In 1826, William would face the charge of criminal conversation, filed by Captain Bligh, as well as the custody battle Wellesley v Beaufort. With two high-profile court cases pending, he needed to return to England to prepare his argument. Industrious as ever, his father had kept his word to creditors and settled outstanding debts, which enabled William to arrive back in London in December 1825. Somehow William managed to raise £6,000 to purchase a charming villa in Hall Place (now Hall Gate), adjoining Regent’s Park. The large house was set in two acres, with a sunny glass conservatory overlooking the gardens.5 Having established a suitable family home, he felt confident that the Lord Chancellor would look favourably on his application for custody of his children.
Facing judicial and public scrutiny, William could not risk being seen with his mistress, so he had left Helena behind in France with their newborn son, William Bligh-Wellesley. After his departure, Helena frequently observed, ‘If it was not for my infant child, I would destroy myself, I am in such an unhappy state of mind.’6 Without any money and unable to support the child, Helena soon followed William to London – leaving her son behind in Calais in the care of a French nurse.7 Helena barely knew the woman and there was no guarantee that she would find the baby alive and well when she returned.
A message arrived for William, and he was furious to discover his mistress holed up at the Hyde Park Hotel. With her presence drawing attention, he had no option but to set her up in a more discreet residence at No. 50 York Street under the assumed name of Mrs Thompson. The couple resumed their elaborate charade, donning heavy disguises and meeting clandestinely.8 Once she was back with William and established in her own home, Helena sent for her child. William had been sorely neglectful of his baby son, leaving him behind in Calais with no money for support. He had behaved in a similar fashion when he abandoned Maria Kinnaird and his child in 1820. This did not bode well for a man about to appear in court to attest that he was a good father.
The Lord Chancellor was sufficiently concerned for the welfare of Will, James and Victoria to take them into care. This was unprecedented. As Wards of Chancery, the children needed a temporary home pending the outcome of the custody hearing and the court agreed that they could be left in the care of the Miss Longs. The spinster sisters lived in constant fear that William would arrive in the middle of the night and take the children by force. They needed to find a guardian of some standing who would be willing to take on William. They approached the Duke of Wellington, who was reluctant to become entangled in the onerous affairs of his nephew yet again. On reflection, he agreed to become guardian for the sake of the children, promising to perform the task ‘zealously, and to the best of my abilities’.9 There was no doubt that whoever assumed this role would have to face the full force of William’s wrath. Nevertheless, the great military commander would prove to be a powerful protector who could not be intimidated. With Wellington’s consent, Victoria continued to live with the Miss Longs while the boys were sent to Eton under the care of their tutor, Mr Pitman.
Preliminary hearings for the Wellesley v Beaufort case commenced in November 1825. The presiding judge was the Lord Chancellor, Lord Eldon,10 a conservative stickler, staunchly resistant to reform of Chancery. Having officiated over some of the longest-running cases, his peers dubbed him ‘Lord Endless’ and Dickens lampooned him in Bleak House. But even those who mocked recognized his strict adherence to considerations of principle and of constitutional law. As far as William was concerned, he had no case to answer for the children were legally and naturally his. In view of this, he tried to overturn the trial before it had even begun, instructing his counsel to argue, ‘No court has the right to take children from under the care of their father, who was lawfully their natural guardian.’11
But Lord Eldon was more than a match for William, countering that, ‘it was beyond dispute that [the court] had such power’ in extreme circumstance.12
On 7 November 1825, The Times reported that William had demanded a private hearing. Once again, Eldon issued a rebuttal, stating, ‘In cases of this anxious and delicate kind, a public hearing was preferable, because it was a guard to the conduct of the judge . . . as well as of public justice.’13 Eldon was conscious that the nation was following the case and that his judgement would be subject to scrutiny with widespread repercussions. Public feelings were high.
The historic custody trial Wellesley v Beaufort opened on 24 February 1826 at the Court of Chancery, Lincoln’s Inn. The name of the trial was misleading, because the Duke of Beaufort had no actual involvement in the custody case. As Catherine was dead, William had been obliged to file his suit against the trustees of her estate, namely the Duke of Beaufort (and others). In real terms the battle was William Wellesley v Catherine Long Wellesley. Her legal team were now following through on her instructions, driven forward by her appointed next of kin, her sisters Dora and Emma, and supported by the Duke of Wellington.
Wellesley v Beaufort was the ultimate cause célèbre. Real-life melodramas staged in a courtroom with a celebrity cast were more gripping than Drury Lane productions. A landmark courtcase promising tales of the grossest adultery guaranteed front-page headlines. Wellesley v Beaufort provided the perfect vehicle for the press to turn private scandal into theatrical spectacle, satisfying the public’s appetite for salacious trials. The Times reported that ‘excited’ crowds gathered at the courthouse,14 with hordes of female admirers hoping to glimpse the delectable Mr Wellesley, remarking, ‘The most anxious of the crowd were some women, without bonnets, whose eagerness knew no bounds.’15 Despite the bad press, William still embodied male desirability.
In a society where sexual inequality was deeply ingrained, the odds were stacked firmly against Catherine. Reiterating her case, Mr Shadwell opened the proceedings by declaring that affidavits would demonstrate that Mr Wellesley was an unfit father. He stated, ‘Mr Wellesley has been guilty of the grossest adultery . . . he has brought up his children in a course of swearing and blasphemy’; and he does not have finances to support them.16
In response, Mr Wellesley admitted that he had neglected his wife and dissipated her wealth with liberal extravagance; however – as he rightly pointed out – this was not illegal. As such, he stated, ‘My conduct ought not to deprive me of the paternal care of my children.’17 He denied completely the accusations relating to his parenting, adultery and finances.
The more titillating the evidence, the more extensive the newspaper coverage became. The courtroom was packed to the rafters to hear accounts from the family physician who had witnessed William’s shenanigans first-hand. Bulkeley’s testimony did not disappoint: he described the ‘criminal intercourse’ between William and Mrs Bligh on Mount Vesuvius; the miscarriage which was induced despite his determination ‘to preserve not destroy life’; Mrs Bligh’s frustration that her husband was too infirm to perform ‘the gratifications she desired’; the depravity of the ménage à trois; William calling Mrs Bligh a ‘damned dangerous bitch’ and finally his callous treatment of Catherine, swearing, declining her company and saying ‘he would be damned if he went anywhere with her’.18
Naturally, William denied everything and attempted to discredit the doctor by swearing endless counter-affidavits. However, the British ambassador in Naples and the upright Mr Pitman were among those who corroborated Bulkeley’s version of events. Tourists on the Mount Vesuvius trip told how Mr Wellesley and Mrs Bligh had stayed a night in the hermitage instead of completing the journey up the mountain. Servants described how Mrs Bligh would fall into William’s arms, the expensive lingerie and how she banished her favourite dog from her bedroom.19 The court also heard how the invalid Captain Bligh had chased William around Naples with loaded pistols in his pocket, forcing him to retreat and head for Paris.
By October 1826, the Lord Chancellor was thoroughly fed up with William’s ridiculous counter-allegations, as he attempted to deny his adultery and discredit witnesses. Eldon decided to halt the custody case, pending the outcome of the criminal conversation trial. Reluctant to recess, William demanded that the Lord Chancellor name an early day to give judgement. Unfazed, Eldon stated that he was in no hurry because the impending Bligh v Wellesley adultery case would give ‘a singular turn’ on the subject, while going far towards determining certain allegations in the custody suit.20
Captain Bligh intended to divorce his wife on the grounds of adultery, but as obtaining a divorce was notoriously difficult, a precursory criminal conversation trial often took place to prove the infidelity. Mrs Bligh was not permitted to appear in court or testify in her own defence. In many respects it was the legal equivalent of a duel, a dispute to be thrashed out between the two rival men, the husband and the lover. Matters of honour needed to be addressed. On 1 November 1826, William appeared at the Court of Common Pleas, Guildhall, facing charges of criminal conversation filed by Captain Bligh. The trial was based on the premise that a wife forms part of her husband’s goods and chattels. By embarking on a sexual liaison with Mrs Bligh, William had defiled another man’s property.21 Captain Bligh had summed up his case perfectly when he wrote to William, ‘Adultery is the deepest civil injury that can be inflicted on a man . . . you have robbed me of the affections of my wife . . . and committed an outrage upon my domestic happiness.’22 The calibre of witnesses such as William Hamilton and Sir William Drummond made their testimonies beyond dispute. To put the final nail in the coffin, Captain Bligh was able to produce documentary evidence. In the tumultuous aftermath of the siege at Clarges Street, William had rushed from his lodgings in great haste, leaving behind a stack of private correspondence between himself and Helena. On calling at the lodgings some days later, Captain Bligh paid off the landlady and took away the letters. Their explosive contents irrevocably incriminated William. Although William continued to protest his innocence, the evidence against him was overwhelming. It took the jury less than fifteen minutes to find for the plaintiff. The adulterer was declared guilty as charged and Captain Bligh awarded damages of £6,000.23 But in many respects the money was immaterial; the important point was that Captain Bligh had his ‘satisfaction’ and his honour restored. William had lost the duel.
When the custody trial reconvened in the Court of Chancery on 9 November 1826, William was unable to deny his adultery because this had already been categorically proved. It had also become clear that many of the affidavits filed by William contained blatant lies regarding his adultery, which meant he could face charges for perjury. At this point, however, the Lord Chancellor was keen to press on and focus on the burning question – was William an unfit parent?
One of the key witnesses was Catherine. Although William objected to her letters and statements being read aloud in court, the Lord Chancellor deemed them admissible.24 As William feared, spectators broke down in tears as they heard Catherine’s story, told in her own words. She had employed powerful rhetoric, vividly describing the ‘miseries I have endured . . . the insult and degradation . . . I have borne it till I can bear it no longer’. Her statements were highly emotive, providing convincing evidence: ‘Under their father’s roof, [my children] would hear vice upheld and admired, and morality and religion scorned and ridiculed every day.’25 There could be no doubt that Catherine had led a miserable existence at the hands of her husband, and no one wanted her children to suffer the same fate.
John Pitman was perfectly placed to observe how William treated his children and proved to be the most crucial witness. The mousy middle-aged tutor was devoted to his charges and Eldon described him as ‘a person of unimpeachable character’. Even at this stage Pitman was torn, having ‘experienced much personal civility, attention, and even kindness from Mr Wellesley’.26 However, he had the interests of the children to consider. Pitman testified that when he joined the family in July 1822, he was appalled to find that the children were like feral creatures, wild and filthy from playing all day in the stables. Even little Victoria had learned obscene language from the grooms.27 Pitman corroborated Bulkeley’s evidence, testifying that after Mrs Bligh moved into the family home, she formed a system with William to ‘alienate the children’s affections from their mother’. Together they permitted the boys to drink wine after dinner, ridiculing Catherine when she objected, and encouraging the children to do likewise.
William had not been as shrewd as his wife. He had been unguarded in his correspondence to Pitman and the damning contents of his own letters were used against him. The court heard that he had instructed the boys to ‘chase all the cats, dogs, bulls and women, both young and old’. William had also sent commands: ‘I positively order that all Story Books be burnt . . . I forbid all Religious Tracts.’28 When James suffered yet another serious fall from his horse, Lady Maryborough was suitably concerned, writing to Catherine, ‘I am most grieved to think what torrents of misery you must have had on account of James’ accident.’29 In contrast, William wrote to his son, ‘My Dear Mr Jemps . . . I write to you to congratulate you upon your fall a-hunting . . . a few more good thumps, and you will soon learn how to fall easy.’30
Although the adultery trial was over, William’s transgressions continued to entertain. Quality newspapers such as The Times, Morning Chronicle, The Age and Bell’s Life in London took their positions in the courtroom and produced lengthy reports to keep the public fully apprised of developments. London newspapers often quoted from affidavits verbatim. Picking up the story, provincial papers followed suit. Taprooms and coffee houses the length and breadth of England were buzzing, as everybody continued to debate the social and moral issues raised by this trial. On 22 November 1826, the Morning Chronicle capitalized on the nation’s love of theatre and amateur dramatics by publishing a lengthy skit, laid out like the script of a melodrama, complete with theatricals and heated exchanges:
Mr Wellesley: rose to address his Lordship in the utmost agitation . . . incessantly striking the bar with the greatest force. He said – ‘I am now accused of perjury . . . As a man of honour and an English gentleman, I call on you to do me justice . . . take these affidavits, read them, weigh and digest them, but, in God’s name, decide on them.’
The Chancellor: ‘I shall give my judgement in what way I please, whatever you, or any other Englishman may think of it . . . I will also tell you that in this court there is a propriety of countenance as well as speech to be observed.’
Mr Shadwell [Catherine’s counsel]: ‘Mr Wellesley’s epistles contained the elegant phrases “Hell and Tommy”, and “Damn their infernal souls to Hell” . . . Mr W had at the very least two systems of education, which were not consistent or well calculated to benefit the children.’
Such a style of reporting was an instant success and many other newspapers followed suit. On 19 January 1827, The Times published a 9,000-word scripted report recalling the ‘adultery on Mount Vesuvius’ and other choice episodes involving the doctor and the abortion. It proved so popular that yet more salacious dialogues were published in The Times on 25 and 26 January. It is easy to imagine how these would have entertained in taprooms, as people consumed pints of ale and acted out the bawdy scenes. These ‘scripts’ took the social consumption of newspapers to a new level, and the courtroom drama may well have been re-enacted in genteel drawing rooms, salons or private theatres across the country. They certainly provided some light relief. According to one discourse, William purportedly told his wife, ‘I acknowledge your high merits, but I am a slave of a passion from which I cannot emancipate myself, and which bows me to the earth.’31
Satirists were also keen to have their say. Isaac Cruikshank’s cartoon The effects of a Blithe W riding on a Long Pole resurrected the old innuendoes, and showed a see-saw shaft between William’s legs probing beneath the skirt of Mrs ‘Blithe’.32 The Lord Chancellor appeared in the background shielding the forlorn children and gesturing towards the Miss Longs. Forceful Dora stood hands on hips, with Emma right behind her. Most importantly, however, the cartoon revealed that Wellesley v Beaufort was finely balanced, with the weight of public opinion swaying to and fro like a see-saw. According to this cartoonist, however, William was now floundering as a result of his indiscretions.
The public and press were fixated on the fact that William had been found guilty of adultery, and this was clouding the issue of child custody. Needing a new strategy, William came up with an argument so compelling that the tide of opinion began to turn in his favour.