The Fall of the House of Windham

William Frederick Windham was always, to put it politely, a bit odd.  From an early age, he became both a puzzle and a worry to his family, all of them wealthy and respectable members of English society.  From boyhood on, he was anti-social, ill-mannered, headstrong, and bad-tempered.  After his unruly behavior got him kicked out of Eton, “Mad” Windham, as he was known, ignored his social equals, preferring to spend his time with servants and other members of the working class.  He was obsessed with trains, bribing porters and guards into letting him turn the railway into his own personal playground.  Wearing a guard’s uniform, he would parade the platform, herding passengers, blowing a whistle, and generally having a grand time.  He also enjoyed impersonating the police.  Some nights, he would dress as a constable and go about London “arresting” prostitutes.

And then, an event took place that turned his story from farce to tragedy.  For the first time in his life, Windham showed an interest in a woman.  Unfortunately, his choice was a beautiful and highly successful young courtesan named Agnes Willoughby.  When in 1861 he inherited the immense Windham family fortune, he decided that she would make the ideal lady of the manor, and proposed marriage. 

Willoughby was personally repelled by this unkempt, socially inept boor, and she never hesitated to say so in his presence.  However, she had no compunction about selling herself when the price was right, and she knew that in this dotty train-fancier she had hit the jackpot.  She agreed to marry him—in return for fifteen hundred pounds a year and nearly twenty thousand pounds’ worth of jewelry.  The happy couple wed on August 30, 1861.  Three weeks later, the new Mrs. Windham ran off to Ireland to join her lover, the famed opera singer Antonio Giuglini, leaving her husband with a pile of bills she had rung up that amounted to nineteen thousand pounds.

Agnes Willoughby

Windham sought consolation for his romantic difficulties by blowing through the family fortune at a truly astounding rate.  He also executed a deed where an uncle—who stood to inherit what was left of the estate if Windham died without issue—was prevented from succeeding to any of it.  This uncle became so alarmed at the trail of ruin his nephew was leaving behind him that he decided there was nothing for it but to haul him in front of a lunacy commission.  He reasoned that if it could be formally established that young William was of unsound mind—something that none of his relatives had ever doubted for an instant—his marriage could be annulled and this hemorrhage of Windham cash stopped.

The inquiry, which took place in December of 1861, ruled that while William Windham may have been strange and generally unpleasant, he was legally sane. However, the court ordered that he pay twenty thousand pounds in costs.  His uncle’s efforts to save the family fortune backfired dismally.

Windham filed for divorce, which proved as disastrous as every other action of his life.  Agnes asserted she had left her husband on the grounds of his cruelty to her.  Her descriptions of his threats to kill her and overall violently frightening behavior only increased Windham’s already notorious reputation.  There were two hearings on the divorce and a third scheduled.  Before this last court meeting could take place, however, Agnes had lured her cash cow husband back to her side.  This so annoyed the judge that he dismissed the case and ordered Windham to pay not only his costs, but Agnes’ as well.

Before long, the once fantastically wealthy William Windham was completely bankrupt.  In 1864, Agnes had somehow persuaded him to sell his remaining assets to her, not to mention take out no less than five insurance policies on his life where she was sole beneficiary.  The family manor, Felbrigg Hall, which had been theirs for generations, was put up for sale.  It was bought by a merchant named Kitton, which led to a popular music hall song featuring the refrain, “Windham has gone to the dogs, Felbrigg has gone to the Kittons.”  

Predictably, Windham’s reunion with his wife did not last long.  When Giuglini’s star began to fade, Agnes tossed him aside as well and moved on to other wealthy admirers.  The former musical idol eventually entered a private lunatic asylum.

Windham ended up living in utter destitution in a Norwich flophouse, where, after a night of heavy drinking in a round of pubs, he died on February 1, 1866, aged only 26.  After his demise, a London newspaper asked how “a British Jury could have been led into the insane belief that Mr. Windham possessed a sound mind.”

As for Agnes Willoughby, her sins reaped a spectacular reward.  In 1864 she gave birth to a son, Frederick, with the highly dubious assertion that it was her husband’s, and therefore, the rightful Windham heir.  After a great deal of legal brawling with the Windham family, she managed to have this claim legally established.  In 1870, she married the agent of the Windham estate of Hanworth, and settled down to a life of prosperous respectability.  Having grown prematurely plain and dowdy, she turned to good works, becoming a pious, prim Lady Bountiful.  She died in 1896.

Frederick Windham—who proved to be as feckless as his ostensible father—died childless only a few months after the death of his mother, and the venerable Windham line became extinct.