Catherine gave up her life to protect her children. On her death, her entire estate devolved to her elder son, a nervous child who was mercilessly bullied and beaten by his peers at Eton. The inheritance was a mixed blessing for Will, because he was no match for his devious father, who pursued him relentlessly for money, misappropriating huge sums by various means such as begging, cajoling or even terrorizing with violent threats.
James was a bright, handsome boy with a reckless streak. As the younger son he had to earn his living and he did this by joining the army for a spell and later becoming a prizefighter. Regrettably, the damage done by his father proved to be enduring. In his early years, James had not received the education of a young gentleman, exposed instead to working in stables and attending cockfights. As a result, the life he chose to follow was a coarse one, travelling from town to town, often living rough and boxing for his supper. Although he was fairly successful at his chosen career, the constant beatings took their toll and James died relatively young.
Victoria lived very happily with her aunts, who doted on her as if she were their own child. Guided by their example, Victoria always endeavoured ‘to do good and to show kindness to all’.1 As an eighteen-year-old debutante she was a great beauty, with lustrous blonde curls cascading down her back and her mother’s gentle expression discernible in her startling blue eyes. When she was presented at court William IV took a keen interest, saying he ‘wished to watch the little fairy dance’.2 The king had been genuinely fond of Catherine and when her daughter appeared at the palace it struck a chord, bringing back bittersweet memories. Having never produced a legitimate heir, the sight of Victoria Long Wellesley reminded him of what could have been – she might have been his child and successor.
The Miss Longs provided a loving home for Victoria for fifty years, and her presence encouraged them to rent a town house in London each season, to enjoy the theatres, suppers and abundance of entertainment on offer. Living well into their eighties, Dora and Emma settled contentedly together, enjoying the same pursuits, even writing letters at the same table. The annuities settled on them by Catherine enabled their comfort and independence, but they upheld the thriftiness of their early years and ‘thought fires in the bedroom self-indulgent’.3 The economy they exercised on themselves was never practised on others and they were benevolent to the last degree. No tale of distress ever reached their ears without immediate assistance. Travelling was one of their greatest pleasures; most years they went to London for the season, arriving in town in April to attend the drawing-room celebrations of Queen Victoria’s birthday.4 In the hotter months they headed to one of the fashionable coastal resorts, staying at the Royal Crescent in Brighton, at the Marina in St Leonards-on-Sea, or wherever took their fancy.
Dora and Emma never married, their prospects ruined by William’s refusal to pay over their portions. Victoria also remained single. Will and James never married, discouraged perhaps by memories of their parents’ turbulent marriage and its disastrous consequences. As none of Catherine’s children produced heirs, it marked the end of the industrious Tylneys. Not only had William ruined Sir Josiah’s estates, he also succeeded in extinguishing his family line.
Mr Pitman was among the employees who suffered reprisals. Wicked William cast aspersions and raised various objections to the boys’ tutor accompanying them to Eton. When this failed, he sent henchmen to intimidate Pitman at the school. Loyal as ever, the tutor stayed on for the sake of the boys who had already lost much and were now struggling to adapt. Sadly, William’s threats took their toll and gentle Pitman died in January 1828, just a few months after settling the boys at Eton.
Dr Bulkeley returned to Italy and got married. He continued to keep in touch with Catherine’s children, sending letters and small gifts, and when Victoria was kidnapped it was Bulkeley who travelled to Paris to track her down and accompany her back to England. William, however, spread such vicious slander that the doctor became notorious. Eventually, he appealed to Dora and Emma, writing, ‘I implore you all to come forward and shield me from his infamous attacks by stating the particulars which your deceased Sister must have often dwelt upon.’5 Despite their best endeavours, Bulkeley was no match for the bad publicity William engineered. The good doctor’s medical practice was ruined and he barely earned a living.
Left without a reference, the valet Meara also struggled to find work. Friends of the family were well aware of his tremendous loyalty, but everyone declined his services because they could not face William’s wrath. Mary Bagot was among those who refused, saying, ‘It might make a quarrel between me and my brother.’6 Nevertheless, Meara remained devoted to the children and more than twenty years after he left their service, he was still writing to enquire after them.
Sickly Captain Bligh did not receive one penny of the £6,000 in damages he had been awarded in court. Even before he could sue for the money, malady overtook him and he died in 1828.
Helena married William in 1828 and they had at least one more child together. William’s second wife suffered even worse treatment than his first; he continued to squander money without sparing a thought for the welfare of his young family. Eventually he abandoned Helena, leaving her destitute and running off with her maid. Helena resorted to begging on the streets of London and she ended up living in the workhouse at Wanstead, where she applied for aid using her official title, Countess of Mornington. When Wellington learned of her plight, he came to her rescue, setting her up in a comfortable home and paying her a small pension.
In the final battle of the Wellesley brothers, the Duke of Wellington became prime minister in 1828. His greatest achievement in this role was ushering the Roman Catholic Relief Act through Parliament in 1829. His magnificent home at Apsley House still stands at No. 1 London, overlooking Hyde Park, and has changed very little since the Iron Duke was in residence. Open to the public, the museum boasts one of the finest art collections in London, with paintings by Velázquez and Rubens as well as displays of silver and hand-painted china. Apsley House pays testament to the fact that the Duke of Wellington has made his mark in history.
Richard, Marquess Wellesley watched from the sidelines as his younger brother became prime minister and attained everything he had ever dreamed of. By now, however, Richard had given up on political ambition and deep contentment had settled over him. Married to the lovely Marianne, the final decades of his long life were filled with peace. Richard Wellesley is the great-great-great-grandfather of Queen Elizabeth II and a huge portrait of him occupies pride of place in the staterooms at Buckingham Palace.
After serving the Wellesleys for more than half a century, faithful Shawe retired with a small pension, sufficient to allow him to indulge his pleasure in fine food and wine. Late in his life, he enjoyed nothing more than to sit in an armchair with a glass of claret, regaling his nephew with reminiscences of the Wellesley family, whom he held in great affection. Fortuitously, his nephew happened to be William Makepeace Thackeray. Armed with intimate first-hand accounts of one of the most sensational marriages of the Regency, Thackeray used his uncle’s memories to enrich his writing. His tour de force, Vanity Fair, contains many veiled references to the Long Wellesleys and the events at Wanstead House.
In a low-key ceremony, the Duke of Clarence was crowned William IV in 1830. A benevolent monarch with no taste for grandeur, he greatly reduced the costs run up by George IV. King William’s ‘wish to spread happiness round him was genuine’ and on his birthday he gave a banquet to 3,000 of the town’s poorer inhabitants.7 This was a far cry from the excesses of the Regency fete hosted by his older brother. William IV successfully bridged the gap between the decadence of the previous age and the staunch Victorians. During his reign, the Great Reform Act was finally introduced, in 1832, implementing far-reaching changes to the electoral system of England and Wales, while laying the foundations for further reforms during the Victorian era.
Despite her great triumphs, history has been unkind to Catherine. In the main, stories about her are tragic, ending with her downfall and untimely death. She is often depicted as a faceless character, the cowering victim of a tyrannical husband; or else she is portrayed as a foolish woman who squandered the chance of becoming queen of England and ended her life in ruin. Until now, nobody has scratched beneath the surface of her story or identified her as the remarkable woman who successfully challenged the legal system in England.
Prior to the trial, William terrorized Catherine and, in the face of such abuse, most women would have given up the cause. In an age when women had very few rights, she showed remarkable courage. In many respects, the Lord Chancellor’s verdict was a compromise, because the children went to a male guardian in William’s family. Would Catherine have gained custody if she had lived? Could Eldon have handed over the children to a woman? Judging by the mood in the press, it seems unlikely. Even the social reformer Jeremy Bentham considered William to be the ‘victim of plunderage, [warning that] a single precedent made by a single judge suffices to make law’.8 The verdict was only achieved because influential men in William’s family supported Catherine’s application – namely the Duke of Wellington and Lord Maryborough. Without their help, the outcome may not have gone in her favour.
Catherine’s story reveals a society on the cusp of change, at a time when attitudes to love, marriage and the role of women were being redefined and Regency decadence gave way to Victorian virtues. Wellesley v Beaufort came at the end of a pivotal era that influenced many aspects of modern life. As Lawrence Stone has argued, women’s causes began to be heard and addressed in the 1830s, when well-born, well-connected women began to lobby for them. Catherine was one of these women.
Catherine was a popular celebrity, portrayed in the press as the ideal wife and mother. When she challenged the legal system, she was aware that her actions would influence other women, and that the nation would be watching. Acknowledging that her motivations were public as well as private, she resolved to protect her children ‘at every hazard and at every risk’,9 stating, ‘I feel that my own character demands, and that my beloved children’s best interests require, that I should take the step on which I am determined.’10
Wanstead Park is all that remains of the Tylney legacy. For centuries it has been a much-treasured local amenity, a sanctuary where ordinary people can escape for an hour or two, taking a scenic stroll or enjoying a family picnic. Remnants of the old park remain. The original stone gateposts still stand at the top of Overton Drive, at the intersection with Blake Hall Road. If you walk through the gateposts and follow the curve of the road, it will take you past many of the features that once formed the approach to Wanstead House: Sir Josiah’s octagonal lake; Grade I-listed St Mary’s Church, which houses the Tylney family crypt along with a huge monument to Sir Josiah; and William’s famous stables which now form part of the clubhouse at Wanstead Golf Club.
Follow the line of the old scenic walk down to the River Roding and you will come to the tranquil bluebell wood which continues to thrive, as does the heron pond, richly swathed with lily pads and dragonflies in the summer. Some of the winding avenues still lead to follies, including the Temple and derelict Grotto. For those who know Catherine’s story, parts of the park retain an air of hushed tragedy. Probably the most poignant feature is a bunker near the eighteenth green at Wanstead golf course – the huge hole in the ground is where Wanstead House once stood, before it was removed from the face of the earth.
Despite all that was lost, Wanstead Park has survived to form part of Britain’s first public open space, with the Corporation of London acting as conservators. On 6 May 1882, half a million Londoners turned out for the official opening of Epping Forest at which Queen Victoria declared, ‘It gives me the greatest satisfaction to dedicate this beautiful Forest to the use and enjoyment of my people for all time.’11