We are introduced to this story through memoirs,
not the usual autobiography you might see in this day and age
but one of a society in which this woman lived.
It’s a tale of prostitution, fraud and enough scandal
to keep even the noblest men, to have their eyes glued to every page.
A story that starts so innocuously
but soon leads to a mighty backlash and a world devoid of scruples or honour.
She said she “was not in the humour to gratify curiosity.” We can see why.
These were the opening words to one of the most scandalous accounts
printed, which included a list of high society
gents from royalty to other high-ranking officials.
We’ll now take a look at the fraudulent and courtesan world of Harriette Wilson.
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Harriette Wilson, born in 1786, was the daughter of a Swiss mathematician
John Dubouchet who had eloped with Amelia, who herself
was an illegitimate child to a schoolgirl named Gadston.
Harriette was the sixth born to her parents,
who then went on to have a total of fifteen children.
Harriette, Amy, and Sophia, Harriette’s sisters,
made their way into London Society during the final decade
of the 18th century and made quite an impression, earning the
moniker, the Three Graces.
“Far from beautiful,” as John Gibson Lockhart put it, “but
a sharp, sassy girl, with good eyes, hair,
and the attitude of a wild schoolboy.”
Harriette’s opening in her memoir recalled, “I shall not say
why at 15 I became the mistress of the Earl of Craven.”
Although It’s safe to assume that her intelligence and sexiness
won over the Earl though
he almost certainly wasn’t the first among her numerous lovers.
However, men hounded her and would not take no for an answer,
and while it’s said they worshipped her, they always stopped
short to see her provided for properly.
Once their affair ended, she went to live with the Duke of Argyll in London.
But It appears that the Duke, who had been quite popular with Harriette,
let her down by having a relationship with her sister
Amy. Yet Argyll was visibly shaken when he found that the Duke of Wellington
was also visiting the house at the same time he was.
She was now one of the brightest
young stars in what can only be described as a peculiar period.
A world of secrets frequented only by men.
When anyone dared publish anything scandalous about the Duke of Wellington,
his reply was “publish and be damned” however,
when this lady came calling, his words were “publish and be hanged.”
The 3rd Duke of Leinster was another who paid court to her, yet
she did not seem to have shared her bed with him
since she thought he was just a good-natured idiot.
However, he did introduce her to his eldest son and heir,
the Marquess of Worcester, a tall, pale long-nosed boy of nineteen,
yet a boy who was incredibly shy and often tongue-tied.
But one who became very keen on marrying her.
But both his parents were naturally disapproving,
they had him moved to Spain under the Duke of Wellington’s staff
and ordered to pay Harriet an allowance.
When Harriet broke the agreement by talking to the Marquess,
the Duke stopped making payments, and Harriet then threatened legal action.
After some time, she was offered £1200 to discontinue the romance.
This was just the tip of the iceberg as more names started to appear, alongside
George IV, the Duke of Wellington, Viscount Palmerston,
and presumably other wealthy men who had come to light
under the shadowy Harriette, and this meant anyone who was anyone,
would soon find out if they had been included in the book.
Although claims later made suggest there is no substantial proof
of a connection either with George IV or even Wellingtton.
In her words, a simple “fifty-pound note
will do as simply as an introduction” this was her approach to these situations.
Harriet made her livelihood this way, but as the years passed, so did her physical
attractiveness, and her earnings probably faltered as a result.
At the age of forty, she decided to publish her kiss-and-tell
autobiography to ensure her financial security.
The decision to write about her life and share it with the world was not unusual.
Based on the vast list of publications included in the eight
editions of Whore Biographies,
between 1700-1825, published by Pickering and Chatto,
one may argue that her Memoirs were just another example
of the established genre of “prostitutes confessions.”
But Harriette’s writing stood out because she wasn’t afraid to name names
and because she had a long list of famous people, starting with the monarch.
However, It seems that she and her publisher, John Joseph Stockdale,
decided they could make more money by not publishing her narrative
after hearing about Mary Ann Clarke, former mistress of the Duke of York.
The latter had been paid £10,000 not to publicise her recollections.
So instead Harriette and Stockdale started sending around draughts of Harriette’s
work to the several individuals featured in it, offering
that they may remove the parts about them in exchange for a monetary contribution.
Both Harriette and her publisher did not attempt any subtlety in their claims.
They merely contacted her 200 or so old clients by letter, requesting
payment of £20 per year or £200 in full
in exchange for her silence.
The famous reply “Publish and be Hanged” was written in response
to such a demand of Arthur Wellesley, 1st Duke of Wellington.
Or so the story goes; alas, there is no hard proof either way.)
And so Wellesley made an appearance in Harriette’s memoirs,
in which she somewhat unfavourably described him
as appearing “like to a rat catcher, but I’ll confess,
he got me out of the duns, so it was all good.
Blessed be, Wellington.” Her memoirs, published in nine parts
between February and August 1825 and titled Beauty, Marriage-Ceremonies,
and Intercourse of the Sexes, in all Nations. It was an instant hit.
Stockdale announced a list of persons whose names would appear
in the first instalment, and he proceeded to promote the names
to follow in later instalments
providing an extra incentive for those named to pay up.
The Memoirs quickly became the talk of Society
and represented a unique attempt at blackmail on a massive scale.
The release of these letters alarmed the highest echelons
of the British government, who were concerned that
whatever information she revealed about King George IV
would further tarnish his already tarnished reputation.
Although subsequently George wasn’t mentioned,
although it was reported that on his deathbed in 1830,
he denounced “Harriette Wilson and her hellish gang.” Presumably,
he paid up.
Sadly for the
contemporary reader, her memoirs rely on a few suggestive statements
and general scathing comments about her numerous partners
rather than explicit sexual content.
Harriette took a forgiving stance toward the truth, or as she put it,
“Dates make ladies uneasy and stories dry.” Or, to put it another way,
she was a notorious liar; in her Memoirs, she wrote about a meeting
she had with the legendary Lord Byron
but that is now another story said to be completely fake.
It is safe to believe
that she similarly embellished most of the remainder of her writing.
Having written her memoirs, Harriette probably didn’t make any money off of them
apart, that is, from the receipt of the blackmail amounts.
Numerous pirated editions often added raunchy images
to the otherwise demure content and accounted for most sales.
At the same time, her publisher became embroiled in a series of legal challenges
following the book’s publication, cutting into the revenues.
Soon after her disclosures were published, she moved to Paris
surprisingly to be with her “husband,” William Henry Rochfort,
who had also fled to the city to avoid paying off his debts.
She took the opportunity to try her hand at fiction
there, publishing Paris Lions and London Tigers.
Her subsequent writing, including this one, was met with similar critical
and commercial failure.
Her literature suggests that Harriette had no talent as a writer,
and the disparity between the quality of her early works and her later
publications suggests that her memoirs were most likely ghostwritten.
After being discouraged from writing, she returned to her previous job
as a procurer of young girls until her poor death in poverty
arrived in 1846.
It may be fair to assume that if Harriette were born in the present day, she’d
be running a highly successful business and for sticking to her principles
even though they were vastly different from those of everyone else at the time.
So should we give her credit for her entrepreneurial skills,
for having the ability to adapt to situations.
If anything Harriette Wilson certainly planted the seed,
for later nineteenth century feminists, to ponder.