When a young man of twenty-four, Wellesley—then the Earl of Mornington—contracted an irregular alliance with a Parisian girl of remarkable beauty, Hyacinthe Gabrielle Roland, and for nine years they lived together. She bore him children, and they appear to have been happy. Wellesley, however, was growing in public importance, and it was represented to him privately that his domestic relations might interfere with his chances of promotion. To end an impossible situation, he married his mistress in 1793, and from the day of the marriage they seemed to lose their mutual affection. Gabrielle Roland was modest in her demands, and content to look after her children; as Countess of Mornington she pestered her husband to compel society to recognize her new status. He was helpless, of course, and quarrels ensued, but they lived together until 1797, when he was appointed Governor-General of India. At first Lady Mornington wished to accompany him, but he was able to persuade her to remain at home.
India at the time had a reputation for cruelty and treachery created by the episode of the Black Hole of Calcutta, and Lady Mornington, thinking doubtless of her children and not herself, consented to remain behind, and enjoy the generous allowance her husband proposed to make her. For the rest of her life—which lasted until 1816—husband and wife saw little of each other; she failed to provide him with a legitimate heir, and at the time it seemed likely that Lord Wellesley would be Prime Minister he lived alone in London. It was said that he refused the viceroyalty in 1812 because it would mean taking 'the Frenchwoman to Dublin,' though a close examination of the existing records points to the fact that Wellesley was unwilling to leave the centre of political interest at such a critical period in the history of England.
Lord-Lieutenant assaulted
The coming of Wellesley to Dublin Castle roused the enthusiasm of the Catholic party and the animosity of the governing minority. In 1822 a great public meeting voted an address of congratulation to the marquis, the motion being proposed by O'Connell and seconded by Richard Lalor Sheil. Meetings all over the country followed suit, and the squeakings of the Orange lodges were drowned in the popular welcome. There was a temporary lull in the formation of secret societies, and the Whiteboys, the Orangemen, the Ribbonmen, and other associations for doing evil by stealth, waited for a sign from the Lord-Lieutenant. He gave it by abolishing the annual Orange decoration of King William's statue, and instantly the Orangemen flew to 'arms.' Wellesley attended a gala performance at the theatre, and an infuriated Orangeman entered a practical protest by hurling a bottle at his head. It missed its mark by inches, and the culprit was arrested. The Grand Jury, unanimously anti-Catholic, threw out the bill, and the powerful minority followed up this blow by inspiring a debate in the House of Commons, in which a vote of censure on the Lord-Lieutenant was rejected with the utmost difficulty. It was only too evident that the Orangemen were determined to contest every inch of ground with the viceroy.
Marquis Wellesley
The general opinion regarding the Marquis Wellesley, when it was known that he had no power to grant relief to the Catholics, was summed up in the lines by Furlong, the Irish poet:
'Who that hath viewed him in his past career
Of hard-earned fame could recognize him here?
Changed as he is in lengthened life's descent
To a mere instrument's mere instrument;
Crippled by Canning's fears and Eldon's rules,
Begirt with bigots and beset with fools.
A mournful mark of talents misapplied,
A handcuffed leader and a hoodwinked guide;
The lone opposer of a lawless band,
The fettered chieftain of a fettered land.'