To Marry an English Lord

by gail maccoll

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  “As may be guessed this début was attended by a fine flourish of trumpets, for where can the free-born American be found who does not know the art of self-advertisement?”

  Open letter to Hon. Mrs. John Ward, formerly Miss Jean Reid, in the Tatler (1909)

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  CLEVER AND CULTURED AMERICANS

  These daughters of the international set were more or less bound to make English marriages, since their very lives were thoroughly English. They were considered perfectly eligible, moreover, for the English were finally becoming familiar with the signposts of American social life. Of Beatrice Mills (who married the Earl of Granard in 1909), the Tatler noted that “her mother, who was a Livingstone, belongs to the ancienne noblesse of the United States.” In a paragraph on Alice Blight, a beautiful Philadelphian who had married Englishman Gerard Lowther, the Tatler referred to “the millionaire Mills-Astor circle” and knowingly called the new Mrs. Lowther “as cultivated as any Bostonian.”

  Of course, the traditional American attractions had not faded. Mentioning a dinner given by the Marchioness of Granby, Town Topics remarked that “it was easy to pick out the American girls. They dress so well and know exactly how to put on their clothes.” And American girls were still richer than anyone else.

  The countess of Granard (at right), née Beatrice Mills. Mrs. Cavendish-Bentinck was her aunt, Jean Reid her cousin, and Amy Phipps her sister-in-law.

  So they married their Englishmen. The weddings did not have the same triumphant aura that peaked in the Vanderbilt and Whitney weddings of 1895. When Beatrice Mills married the Earl of Granard in 1909, the comparatively modest ceremony took place at home in New York, with no fanfare about guest lists and gifts. And many of the girls simply married in England. The effort of coming home to marry off a daughter on her native soil was no longer seen as necessary. The new heiresses’ families and friends were in England. Frequently their bridesmaids were English. (They had often been bridesmaids in English weddings.) Why even bother with New York, when one could join a long line of society brides who had been wed at St. George’s Hanover Square or St. Margaret’s Westminster?

  COURT CURTSY

  Above: Buckingham Palace, c. 1895. On Drawing Room days, a traffic jam extended down Pall Mall.

  Below: Rosalind Secor Chetwynd, dressed for presentation at court.

  One of the crucial rituals of the American Invasion was being presented at court. Though traditionally a recent bride wore her wedding dress, other ladies ordered splendid new gowns. By court ruling, one’s dress must have a low neck and short sleeves. (Even elderly women wore décolletage unless they’d sent a doctor’s certificate ahead of time to the Lord Chamberlain’s office.) Any unmarried woman under sixty dressed in white, while the matronly grandes dames appeared in rich purple, crimson or even black.

  Once dressed for court (it took a good two hours), one got into a town-chariot and proceeded to the Mall leading to Buckingham Palace. During Victoria’s reign, women left the house at nine A.M. because the Drawing Rooms at which they were presented began at eleven, and one could expect to be stuck in Palace-bound traffic for two hours. The wait was the grueling part. Highly vocal onlookers amused themselves by commenting on the women’s clothes and jewels, while the court hairdresser hopped from carriage to carriage putting finishing touches on coiffures and feathers. Even at the Palace, the waiting continued. Here the women were herded, with their trains over their arms like bundles of laundry, through a succession of rooms known as “the pens.”

  The actual moment of presentation was very brief. At the door to the audience chamber, a lady’s train was lifted from her arm and spread out by a gentleman-in-wait ing. A card giving her full name was handed to a lord-in-waiting, who passed it on to the Lord Chamberlain, who in turn announced the name. The presentee walked forward and curtsied to the King (he had long ago taken Victoria’s place at Drawing Rooms, as she hated public appearances while he relished the chance to look over each fresh crop of women) and any other royals present. The court curtsy was very deep, with the head nearly touching the floor, and required extensive rehearsal. The trickiest part was inching out of the royal presence, since one may not turn one’s back on royalty. A lady held out her arm for her train, which was tossed to her by a page (there were dreadful rumors about pages throwing trains over ladies’ heads, or purposely crossing their trains to trip them), and tried to walk smoothly backward without glancing over her shoulder. English girls were drilled in the procedure. Elma Gordon-Cumming, daughter of the American Florence Garner, recalled: “Every dancing class I ever attended, even at the age of nine, included rehearsals of court curtsies.”

  Top right: The process allowed all too much time for final adjustments.

  Bottom left: The first court under the new king, March 14, 1901. Presentees were required to wear three ostrich plumes, affixed to the back of the head “so they can be clearly seen on approaching the Presence.”

  In Victoria’s time, neither food nor drink was served; afterward, one could only go home, wildly overdressed for the midafternoon. But when Edward became king, receptions were tacked on after the evening courts, or one could take off ones veil and feathers and go to a dance in one’s glorious dress, and everybody would know one had been to court.

  Jean Reid was the ruling belle of the American community in London, and her wedding was signally marked by royal favor.

  ROYAL FAVOR

  There was still competition. Some American features are not as easily eradicated as an accent, and what better opportunity to compete than a wedding? Worth wedding dresses in white satin were still de rigueur; elaborate flowers, Mendelssohn and Wagner on the organ were essential. The American diplomatic community must always be represented. (Ambassador Reid went to so many weddings that it’s hard to know how he got any work done.) Other London features were numerous titled guests, especially American heiresses of previous vintages, and the presence in force of the groom’s delighted family.

  But the crucial distinction was the interest—or lack thereof—that Their Majesties showed in these marriages. On one level were royal wedding presents. Usually the newspaper listings of gifts featured the offering from the Palace: a clock, a piece of jewelry, some fine lace. On an entirely loftier plane was actual royal attendance; since the King and Queen seldom went to weddings, even of the English haute noblesse, their presence was considered a real coup. In this category, Jean Reid came out miles ahead. Her father was Whitelaw Reid, ambassador to the Court of St. James, from a country whose position in the world was growing steadily more important; her fiance, the Honourable John Ward, was the Earl of Dudley’s brother and His Majesty’s favorite equerry. Royal condescension at her wedding was almost crushing. Not only did the ceremony take place at the Chapel Royal in St. James’s Palace, in the royal presence (along with that of the Prince and Princess of Wales, the Duke and Duchess of Connaught, Princess Patricia of Connaught, Prince and Princess Alexander of Teck, Prince and Princess Francis of Teck, and Grand Duke Michael of Russia), but on her wrist the bride wore the personal royal wedding presents: matching diamond snake bracelets with jeweled eyes, ruby from the Queen and cat’s-eye from the King. After the ceremony the Queen kissed the bride, and the King slapped the groom on the back as he said, “Well done, Johnny!”

  Among Margaretta’s bridesmaids was Mildred Carter (third from left). The bouquets included daisies, also known as “marguerites.”

  END OF THE WORLD

  The season of 1910 was slated to produce a bumper crop of new heiress brides. Margaretta Drexel would marry, in early June, Lord Maidstone, heir of the Earl of Winchilsea (who had declared bankruptcy in the 1870s); the reception would take place at the Drexels’ house. Mildred Carter and Helen Post, two of Margaretta’s bridesmaids, were to marry later in the month. Mildred’s fiance was Viscount Acheson, eldest son of the Earl of Gosford, and she was to be married from Dorchester House since her family no longer lived in London. Helen Post was eng
aged to the Honourable Montague Eliot, second son of the Earl of St. Germans. Each of these weddings would be held at St. George’s Hanover Square. The church would be packed with Anglo-American nobility, and displayed among the gifts would be a memento sent with best wishes from Buckingham Palace.

  Margaretta Drexel and her fiancé, Lord Maidstone, at a race meeting shortly before their marriage.

  “Are there any more like you at home?”

  Jennie, Clara and Leonie Jerome: sisters who always stood by each other in financial and romantic crises.

  Like any pioneers in a new land, the American wives in England got themselves settled, looked around—and sent for the rest of the family. In particular, they sent for their unmarried sisters. As young matrons in fashionable English society, they found themselves in an unparalleled position to provide what every young girl in that era wanted to find: an eligible bachelor.

  Sisters wouldn’t have to fight for social sponsorship or forge alliances on their own; owing to the close-knit nature of English society, the weight of their brother-in-laws’ families would back them up. Furthermore, American sisters married to Englishmen would form their own power block in society. So the sisters came to London. They were charming and pretty and rich. They were something of a given quantity. In no time at all, they were married.

  In addition, not a few American mothers, having successfully placed their daughters and somehow become single again, settled down for the second time with Englishmen of their own.

  THE SISTER ACTS

  THE BONYNCES: Louisa (m. Major General Sir John Maxwell) and her stepsister Virginia (m. Viscount Deerhurst).

  THE BREESES: Eloise (m. Lord Willoughby de Eresby, later Earl of Ancaster) and Anna (m. Lord Alastair Innes-Ker, younger brother of 8th Duke of Roxburghe, who married May Goelet).

  THE CARRS: Alys, “the lovely young widow Mrs. Chauncey” (m. Sir Cecil Bingham), and Grace (m. Lord Newborough).

  THE CHAMBERLAINS: Jeannie (m. Herbert Naylor-Leyland, later Sir Herbert) and Josephine (m. T.T.L. Scarisbrick of Lancashire).

  THE FROSTS: Jane (m. Sir Lewis Molesworth), Evelyn (m. Philip Beresford-Hope) and Louisa (m. Hon. William FC. Vernon).

  THE GRACES: Elena (m. Lord Donoughmore) and Elisa (m. Hon. Hubert Beaumont).

  THE JEROMES: Jennie “the Beautiful” (m. Earl of Randolph Churchill), Clara “the Good” (m. Moreton Frewen) and Leonie “the Witty” (m. Sir John Leslie).

  THE LEITERS: Mary (m. Hon. George Curzon, later Lord Curzon), Marguerite (Daisy) (m. Earl of Suffolk) and Nancy (m. Major Colin Campbell).

  THE RANDOLPH/WHITNEY STEPSISTERS: Adelaide Randolph (m. Hon. Lionel Lambart) and Pauline Whitney (m. Almeric Paget, later Lord Queenborough).

  THE WADSWORTHS: Widow Cornelia Wadsworth Ritchie (m. John Adair of County Rathdaire, Ireland) and her widowed sister Elizabeth Wadsworth Post (m. Arthur Barry, later Lord Barrymore).

  THE YZNACAS: Consuelo (m. Viscount Mandeville, later Duke of Manchester) and Natica (m. Sir John Lister-Kaye).

  MOTHER-DAUGHTER DUOS

  LADY BARRYMORE (née Elizabeth Wadsworth) and Helen Post (m. Hon. Montague Eliot, later Earl of St. Germans).

  WIDOW MRS. EDWARD PADELFORD (m. Ernest Cunard) and Florence (m. Hon. Robert Grosvenor, later Lord Ebury).

  The Three Graces: Elisa, Elena and Margarita, who married Amy Phipps’ brother John. Insets: Mary Leiter (left) disapproved when Daisy (right) married Suffolk, thinking it was merely an ambitious match.

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  “For my part I do not think that common justice is done by writers and journalists to that wondrous thing, American womanhood. After all, the best class of women from the New World have done much to change the face of London society. In a word, they brought the grit and ‘go’ of a new race to bear on our rusty if cherished institutions. They have made us more modem in our ways and more up-to-date in our opinions; they have taught us how to manage the mere man, and how to rule our own houses and keep our own money. In a word, they opened our eyes to women’s rights long before we ever heard of a Suffragette demonstration. We were a weaker, more backward, and certainly poorer people before the seventies and eighties brought us the first of our now well-known Anglo-American alliances.”

  Open letter to the Countess of Donoughmore, formerly Miss Elena Grace of New York, in the Tatler (1910)

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  Mildred Carter and her fiancé, Viscount Acheson. Acheson’s father had sold the contents of the family home to pay his debts.

  Then, in May, the King died. His reign had been less than one-sixth the length of his mother’s, but he was no less deeply mourned. When the funeral procession wound through London, with the King’s dog Caesar following the coffin, the onlookers’ tears were sincere. Edward’s death, particularly for Americans in London, seemed the end of the world.

  The Drexel, Carter and Post marriages took place as scheduled. Despite messages from the Palace that court mourning should not interfere with the celebrations, most of the guests at all three weddings were dressed in black. It was considered notable that Mrs. Anthony Drexel, Margaretta’s mother, chose to put aside mourning for the day and wear peach. It was hard to be festive when so much had changed.

  TILL DEATH OR THE JUDGE DO US PART: THE AMERICAN HEIRESS DIVORCE

  Marrying an English aristocrat meant that the American heiress had to make enormous cultural transitions. But what if she simply gave up? Decided she hated her husband? Wanted to be American again? In the early years of the transatlantic match, the heiress who regretted her choice of husband was out of luck. Divorce, in England, was almost unheard of. Grounds for the proceeding were few (adultery, insanity, previous marriage) and shameful. A divorcée like the ninth Duke of Marlborough’s mother automatically disappeared from society. So women like Consuelo Yznaga (tied forever to the reprehensible eighth Duke of Manchester) had to make the best of matters by availing themselves of the aristocratic, Marlborough House Set leniency toward adultery.

  Alva took credit later in life for helping to make divorce socially acceptable. She considered this one of her great achievements.

  In the United States, the prevailing attitude toward divorce was very different. With a characteristic combination of idealism (Americans expected marriages to work) and pragmatism (if it’s not working, throw it away), individual states had thrashed out divorce laws that suited them. It was usually possible for an unhappy couple to find some haven (most often a western city) for a parting in which no one lost face. Grounds could be as innocuous as desertion. Frances Burke-Roche, having suffered through a contested divorce proceeding in London, returned to the States and succeeded in obtaining a Delaware divorce in 1891. (The outraged Burke-Roche subsequently sued Burke’s Peerage for noting the divorce in his listing.) And once Alva Vanderbilt faced down society with her New York state divorce from Willie K., more and more women followed suit.

  Above: Jacques Balsan had been present at Consuelo’s Paris début and was an occasional visitor to Blenheim. He and Consuelo were married in the Episcopal church in 1921.

  Below: Like mother, like daughter: Consuelo, after her separation from Marlborough, with her father.

  One of them was her daughter. In 1906, after eleven unhappy years, Consuelo moved out of Blenheim and into the newly built Sunderland House in London. Here, she began a new life, pledging herself to politics and Good Works while Sunny devoted his time to the lovely Bostonian Gladys Deacon—who had also been a warm friend of his wife’s. (Some sources alleged that both Marlboroughs had strayed before the separation, although Consuelo would always play the injured party.) Their estrangement infuriated Edward VII, who refused to meet either of the pair socially. In 1920, the divorce became final; a year afterward, Sunny married Gladys. Then, in 1926, Consuelo asked the Catholic Rota to annul her first marriage so that she could marry Frenchman Jacques Balsan in the Catholic Church. The Marlborough union, which had resulted in two sons, was declared void because it had been entered into under duress; the sons would not, howe
ver, have to suffer the taint of illegitimacy.

  In 1928, Mildred Carter divorced the Earl of Gosford for adultery and desertion. (Telling Mildred that he’d be back in four months’ time, the Earl had left for China in 1919 and stayed there tor three years.) American women married to Englishmen were finding they couldn’t completely shed their American-ness. As the twentieth century advanced, and “American” took on more legitimate and less outlandish connotations in Europe, they were more willing to claim the rights their nationality gave them. One of these was “the pursuit of happiness,” and that had nothing to do with being yoked for life to an incompatible husband.

  EPILOGUE

  By the turn of the century, trusting Americans were finally realizing that noble blood was no guarantee of noble character. Reporting on Virginia Bonynge’s engagement to Viscount Deerhurst, New York’s Town Topics gloomily stated that the heiress could hardly be congratulated and reminded its readers that Deerhurst’s father, the Earl of Coventry, “practically disowned his son after the latter had dissipated to such an extent that all efforts to induce him to reform appeared fruitless. Lord Deerhurst, finding that his father at length refused to pay his debts, promptly became bankrupt and then proceeded to Australia where strange tales of his proceeding were reported.” The concept of decadence had come alive—a titled cad could exist.