For a number of years we’ve wanted to write a piece about William Bligh as his family lived in a house facing the Imperial War Museum. However, after a fair amount of research we’ve reached the scholarly conclusion that he was in fact an irascible and nasty piece of work who was given roles he wasn’t qualified for merely because of his connections. That led us to investigate into a more worthy resident of 100 Lambeth Road; his long suffering and patient wife Elizabeth.
When Elizabeth and Bligh married in 1781 she was aware that they would be apart for long periods of time, and after reading his history perhaps that’s one thing that attracted her to him. While not running a household with four kids and staff Elizabeth was a Conchologist; a collector of seashells. Many of which Bligh lovingly obtained as he sailed the South Pacific yelling at people.
Bligh is best known as the cause for the Mutiny on the Bounty, instigated by sailors who grew weary of his incompetence and abuse (Observer bigwigs take note of this). Less well known are his hijinks afterwards. In a ‘deju vu’ moment, several years after the Bounty he was involved in the Nore Mutiny and was once again forcibly removed from the ship has was captaining. Through all of this Elizabeth remained devoted to William and stood by him.
Possibly because they wanted to get him out of the way, in 1806 the Navy appointed Bligh as Governor of New South Wales. He requested that Elizabeth join him but she promptly shut him down. We’re picturing a Regency version of Elizabeth putting her hand in his face and saying ‘I don’t think so’. When stories began to circulate from New South Wales that he was trying to be deposed, the caricatures and rumours started to fly. As if she didn’t have enough on her plate, Elizabeth actively campaigned on his behalf by writing letters to persons with influence regarding his fitness to remain and defiance in what became known as the Rum Rebellion.
Despite her prolific letter writing, Bligh was dismissed from his role down under just two years after being appointed. In what must have been a ‘Oh FFS not this again’ moment for Elizabeth, he joined her again at 100 Lambeth Road. Elizabeth was probably Bligh’s only friend, and to repay her for a life spent raising kids, running a household, writing letters and collecting shells Bligh infected Elizabeth with syphilis and she died in 1812, aged 59. Websites indicate that Bligh contracted syphilis by ‘talking to natives in Tahiti’. Well, here at the Observer we know a thing or two about catching STD’s and they aren’t transmitted by talking, thank you very much.
The tranquil family resting point is in the courtyard of the Gardening Museum, next to their very swishy restaurant which we’ve been trying to get the aforementioned bigwigs to fund for ages, to no avail. Could a mutiny be brewing in our underground offices?
