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  The ceremony took place at eleven o’clock at night in the tiny church at Lainston near Winchester. Apart from the vicar and the bride and groom, there were only four other people present, one of them being Miss Chudleigh’s aunt, and another, her maid. Precautions were taken to ensure that the domestic staff of all concerned had no idea what was being planned, and the brief ceremony took place in semidarkness, the only illumination being a lighted taper stuck in the hat of Mr. Mountenay, one of the witnesses. Afterward the newly married couple returned to the house where they were staying, and Elizabeth Chudleigh’s maid helped them to enter by a backdoor unseen so they could creep up to a bedroom and spend their wedding night together. A few days later, Hervey had to rejoin his ship at Portsmouth, and they did not see each other again before he sailed for the West Indies.

  Apart from a brief reunion when Hervey returned from Jamaica in 1746, they drifted apart and both sought lovers elsewhere. Miss Chudleigh, as she continued to be known, acquired an increasingly scandalous reputation that was typified by her startling appearance at the Venetian Ambassador’s Ball at Somerset House in May 1749. She arrived wearing a costume so transparent and flimsy that most of her lovely figure was revealed. The King and the other men present seem to have been delighted, but the women were not. The Princess of Wales draped her wrap over the bare shoulders and breasts of her maid of honor, and afterward Mrs. Elizabeth Montagu noted, “Miss Chudleigh’s dress, or rather undress, was remarkable; she was Iphigenia for the sacrifice, but so naked the high priest might easily inspect the entrails of the victim. The Maids of Honour (not of maids the strictest) were so offended they would not speak to her.” 2

  Meanwhile Hervey had embarked on a pattern of life that he was to pursue for as long as he was on active service in the navy. We know the most intimate details of this because he kept a private journal that he later used as a basis for his racy memoir. If this had ever been intended for publication, one would be tempted to think that he had invented the more extraordinary episodes in order to establish his reputation as a great lover, but it was written between 1767 and 1770 (several years before the bigamy scandal) and according to his own words, “I write this over purely for my own satisfaction of recalling to my memory most of the events of all kinds of my life, I pursue the threads of it, just as I had set it down every day of my life as it happened, only not quite all the very particular circumstances attending it.” 3

  Hervey had made the crucial step to post-captain in 1747, and his contacts in high places had ensured that after the briefest of spells in command of small warships he was given command of the 70-gun Princessa. In this splendid ship of the line, he sailed with Admiral Byng’s squadron to the Mediterranean. At this time, the hostilities with France had ended, and the squadron’s purpose was to show the flag in various ports and to be ready should hostilities be resumed. The period of peace provided an ideal opportunity for senior naval officers to organize entertainments in foreign seaports and to become acquainted with local society, particularly the ladies. Every ship had musicians, and a prolonged stay in a civilized port like Lisbon or Genoa was marked by a succession of gracious dinners and musical evenings. Hervey reveled in this way of life. In January 1748, at the little port of Vado, near Genoa, he held a masquerade on board and arranged for the whole ship to be so illuminated that “she was as pretty a sight to those on shore as those within her.” All the officers of the fleet arrived in fancy dress, and the entire ship’s company were persuaded to put on party masks.

  A few weeks later he organized an entertainment on a grander scale. At the Italian port of Leghorn, he invited the governor of the province, his mistress, and twenty-eight members of the nobility who were visiting the city from Florence and Pisa. The evening began with a concert on board his ship, and as darkness fell, the guests were rowed in boats along the city’s canals. Hervey had arranged for all the bridges to be illuminated, and at intervals along the canals he had boats with musicians playing and boats with food and drink for his guests. Thousands turned out to see the spectacle, some watching from windows and others lining the banks of the canals.

  In return, Hervey received numerous invitations to dinners and concerts. He found the ladies of Florence to be the most gallant in Italy and their husbands the least jealous, so that he was able to enjoy the favors of, among others, the Marchesa de Pecori and the Marchesa Acciaiola. Back in Leghorn, he spent his time with the wives of two merchants: “The first I had every enjoyment with I could wish, and she was very pretty as well as entertaining.” To show her appreciation, she presented him with her picture and a ring set with diamonds.

  By September 1748, the squadron was in Lisbon, which enabled Hervey to renew his acquaintance with Signora Paghetti, the Italian singer who had taken him to her bed when he was a sixteen-year-old lieutenant. He found her still to be very handsome, but he also looked for pleasures elsewhere. He paid several visits to the convent at Odivellas, which had an unusually liberal regime. The previous king had maintained two mistresses there and had a child by each of them. Hervey noted that many of the nuns were ladies of quality and were most beautiful. Of a later visit to the convent he wrote, “We stayed late, making love in the frereatica way (as they call it).” By way of contrast he also visited the local prostitutes. He described one morning’s work in company with the Duke of Bagnos and Charles Gravier, later Comte de Vergennes and foreign minister under Louis XVI: “We went in cloaks to upwards of, I verily believe, thirty ladies houses—ladies of pleasure, I mean.” 4

  Hervey’s aristocratic background and social contacts opened doors at the highest level. Leaving his ship at Lisbon, he spent a few weeks in Paris during the summer of 1749. He was presented to the Queen of France, visited Madame de Pompadour and went hunting regularly with the Duke de Penthieve, the grandson of Louis XIV and admiral of France. At this time, it was his custom to get up very early and to keep in good shape by dancing for half an hour each morning and by riding three times a week. If he dined at home, he would spend two hours after dinner playing the harpsichord. The nights were spent with two dancers from the Paris Opéra.

  This round of social engagements and casual sexual encounters was somewhat disrupted in November 1749 when he met Susanne-Félix Lescarmot, whom he described as the most beautiful woman in France. She had been groomed to become the mistress of the King, but the Duc de Richelieu had ensured that Madame de Pompadour gained that position, so she had been married off to Monsieur Caze, a fermier-général who later became secrétaire du cabinet. Hervey was introduced to Madame Caze at a masquerade and fell madly in love with her. He abandoned his opera girls and all other distractions in order to pursue her. Madame Caze was evidently attracted to him, but it was some time before they had an opportunity to meet in private and reveal how they felt about each other. They continued to steal meetings together, and the relationship blossomed to the point where she gave Hervey a ring with the motto L’Union en la passe and told him that she was no longer mistress of herself but was all his. Unfortunately, their attempts to consummate their love were frustrated by the presence of others, in particular her husband and her mother. However, one day, several weeks after their first meeting, Madame Caze sent for Hervey when the coast was clear, and they were able to spend one entire afternoon and evening together, “giving and receiving the last charming proofs of an unbounded love, and I never tasted such most exquisite delight, nor was I ever more fit for the scene.” 5

  They now arranged to meet every day, and somehow avoided causing a scandal or arousing her husband’s jealousy. On one occasion, the lovers were engaged in a tender farewell when Monsieur Caze entered the room. Hervey was able to conceal his aroused state with a large muff that he had slung from his girdle, and although Monsieur Caze observed their guilty confusion, he assumed they were merely kissing. He stomped off to his library, and any suspicions he might have entertained about the true nature of their friendship he kept to himself. Life was simplified for the lovers when Mon
sieur Caze was appointed secrétaire du cabinet and had to spend much of his time at Versailles. This enabled Hervey to spend every night with Madame Caze. He would arrive at her house late in the evening, enter through the stables, and stay with her until two or three o’clock in the morning. Although Hervey seems to have been given considerable latitude by his fellow officers, the time came when he had to return to his ship.

  By December 1750, he was back in England, and on half-pay. He used all his contacts to try to get another command and was eventually appointed captain of the Phoenix, a 20-gun ship, the smallest class possible for someone of his rank—Lord Anson informed him that there were no larger ships available. While he was supervising her outfitting at Deptford, he received a letter from Madame Caze informing him that she was determined not to injure her husband again and had decided to give up her life to devotion.

  In March 1752, Hervey set sail from Portsmouth on the Phoenix and headed for Portugal and the Mediterranean. First he sailed into Lisbon, and during the four months that his ship was anchored there, he amused himself by renewing his acquaintance with the ladies in the convent at Odivellas and by making love to the local Portuguese ladies. In August he sailed on to Marseilles, where he met Mademoiselle Sarrazin, a cheerful and spirited Frenchwoman who was the mistress of a French colonel. She insisted that he take her to sea with him. He agreed, and she came aboard with her maid and sailed with him to Minorca, Gibraltar, and Lisbon, where he set her up in a house that he rented so they could spend time together whenever he was free. This convenient arrangement did not prevent him from enjoying affairs with other women. In October 1752, he was intercepted by a man on horseback. At first Hervey thought the man had orders to assassinate him, but he had been sent to bring him to a lady who wished to make his acquaintance. He was taken to the garden entrance of an estate and led up to a finely furnished apartment in a large house. There he found a lady waiting for him: “She told me our time was short, and we must go to bed, which I did not hesitate as she had fired me all over. I put my pocket-pistols under my pillow, and passed a most joyous night.” After several more secret rendezvous with this mysterious woman, he discovered that she was the Duchesse de Cadaval and a princess of the House of Lorraine.

  During the next four years, Hervey continued to have affairs with aristocratic ladies whenever his ship was in port long enough. When the Phoenix put in to Genoa in August 1754, for instance, he embarked on an affair with Madame Pellinetta Brignole, a good-looking and intelligent woman of thirty from a distinguished Genoese family. She was an accomplished musician and so captivated Hervey that she remained the principal object of his affections during the remaining time he spent in the Mediterranean. She was, of course, married, a fact that had never deterred him in the past but which, in this case, required them to use some ingenuity. In the first instance, Madame Brignole feigned an inflammation of the eye as an excuse for her to go to bed in a darkened room. Hervey crept into her bedroom and lay down next to her under the thick down quilt. When her husband came to say goodnight to her after supper, Hervey remained hidden under the quilt. After a few anxious moments, the husband went out, “leaving me in the arms of one of the loveliest women that ever was. I lay till near daylight and performed wonders.” At dawn he managed to creep out of the house and return to his lodgings without being seen. On a later occasion, he was compelled to hide under his mistress’s bed for two hours before it was safe for him to emerge and embark on another night of lovemaking.

  In addition to his affairs with high-society women, Hervey also made a practice of seducing pretty girls in their teens. In May 1752, he attended mass in Lisbon while his ship lay at anchor in the harbor. Spotting a good-looking country girl in the congregation, he had her followed and brought to him. She proved to be “a most lovely piece.” In the same city a year later, he laid siege to Donna Felliciana de Sylvera, a tall and well-built girl of fifteen. He had frequently chatted with her as she sat at her window and at length persuaded her to go to bed with him. According to his diary, she gave him as much joy as ever he could remember. In January 1756, he sailed the Phoenix into Port Mahon. He ordered the ship to be prepared for sea because a declaration of war was imminent, but this did not prevent him from flirting with the daughter of the tavernkeeper of the inn where he was staying: “She and I agreed very well, and I kept her all the while, and a sweet pretty creature she was, so that she engrossed my whole time here, and as I lay at the house we had no interruption.” 6

  This life of sensual indulgence was somewhat curtailed in 1756 when war was declared, and for the next seven years he spent much of his time on active service. He proved a bold and active commander. He served under Hawke in the English Channel, though he missed taking part in the Battle of Quiberon Bay. He was with Admiral Keppel at Belle Isle in 1760 and played a major part in the West Indian campaign in the capture of Martinique, St. Lucia, and Havana. He did find time during his periods of leave in England to have several affairs, most notably with Kitty Fisher, a society beauty and courtesan who was a favorite model for Sir Joshua Reynolds, for whom she sat as Cleopatra. On his return from the West Indies in 1763, he struck up a liaison with Kitty Hunter, the daughter of one of the Lords of the Admiralty. She subsequently bore him a son named Augustus, the only child Hervey ever acknowledged. He grew up to be a charming and impetuous young man like his father. He joined the navy as a midshipman, but at the age of eighteen, he was tragically killed in action during the relief of Gibraltar.

  The last great love of Hervey’s life was Mrs. Mary Nesbitt. According to an unkind commentator, her origins could be traced to a wheelbarrow, but her exceptional beauty and bright personality gained her entrée into society. 7 She married a City banker and, like Kitty Fisher, was painted by Joshua Reynolds. She was consistently unfaithful to her husband and took up with Hervey around 1770. She was to remain with him until his death.

  Meanwhile, Hervey’s wife, the notorious Miss Chudleigh, had become the mistress of the Duke of Kingston. He was a wealthy and generous man, and she was determined to marry him. It suited her to regard the marriage ceremony she had gone through with Hervey as “such a scrambling shabby business and so much incomplete” that it did not count. 8 In spite of a great deal of society gossip about the true state of affairs, she managed to convince the Ecclesiastical Court that she was a spinster, and in March 1769, she married the duke and became the Duchess of Kingston. Hervey had been contemplating divorcing her anyway and kept his own counsel, but when the Duke of Kingston died four years later, the eldest of his heirs, who had been disinherited, decided to contest his will and challenge the legality of his marriage. The lawyers had a field day, and the former Miss Chudleigh found herself having to face a charge of bigamy.

  Hervey had now succeeded to the family title as Earl of Bristol, so the trial had to take place before the House of Lords, because if Miss Chudleigh’s marriage to Hervey was legal, she was the Countess of Bristol and if not, she was the Duchess of Kingston. Either way, she was a peeress and must be tried by peers. There was so much interest in the case that the trial had to be moved from the House of Lords to Westminster Hall to accommodate all the spectators. The Queen, the Prince of Wales, and most of London society were present to listen to the arguments for the defense and the prosecution. In the end, the Lords ruled that Miss Chudleigh’s marriage to Hervey was legal and that she was therefore guilty of bigamy. However, no action was taken against her. She left for the Continent and died in Paris in 1788.

  Hervey had wisely left the country and retreated to Nice during the proceedings. At the time of the trial in 1776, he was fifty-one and a man of wealth and property. He died three years later on December 22, 1779, at the family’s London house in St. James’s Square.

  Hervey’s amorous adventures make a fascinating case study, but to what extent was he typical of the naval officers of his day? The evidence suggests that he was unusual in terms of the sheer number of women he slept with, but that in other respects his l
ife was not so different from those of other officers with aristocratic connections and wealth derived from prize money or private incomes. On foreign postings, particularly during periods of peace, many officers enjoyed a glamorous social life. Concerts, dances, and parties on board ship and ashore were a common occurrence. Every ship’s crew included one or two men who could play the fiddle, and in the eighteenth century, it was common practice for British warships to have a fife and drum band. Some captains ensured that there were enough musicians on board to make up a small orchestra. This practice was not confined to naval vessels. The larger merchant ships, particularly those carrying passengers, often provided musical entertainment for those on board. William Hickey gives us a vivid glimpse of this in his memoirs, as he describes his experiences aboard the East Indiaman Plassey in 1769:

  Each of the ships 5 English, 4 Swedish, 6 French, 4 Danish, 3 Dutch had an excellent band, consisting of every description of wind and martial instruments, the whole striking up the moment the sun appeared above the horizon and continuing to play for an hour. The same thing was done in the evening one hour previous to sunset. I never heard anything that pleased me more. 9

  The lavish parties ashore that Hervey attended were not uncommon, as the wealthier naval officers sometimes entertained on a spectacular scale. In the Portsmouth Telegraph of April 7, 1800, there is a description of a party hosted by Admiral Edward Russell on the grounds of a nobleman’s house near Lisbon. More than 6,000 guests were entertained, and the focal point of the evening was a large marble fountain in the gardens. Russell had arranged for the fountain to be filled with a traditional punch made from 4 large barrels of brandy, 8 of water, 25,000 lemons, 20 gallons of lime juice, 1,300 pounds of fine white sugar, 5 pounds of grated nutmeg, 300 toasted biscuits, and a cask of Málaga mountain wine. A large canopy was erected over the fountain, and a small boat with a young sailor boy floated among the lemons and grated nutmeg on the surface of the punch. During the evening, the boy rowed around the fountain filling up the cups of the delighted guests.