The Pelhams of Newcastle, too, were conservative, despite the dysfunctions that characterized the family. The duke, Archibald, no doubt influenced by his mother, was the President of the English Church Union, a leader of the High Church Party, and a member of the London School Board. He sought a more moral, religious England. Furthermore, he and the Newcastle family were still enmeshed in complicated financial dealings that threatened their estate and standing. The treasure, already squandered by his father Linky, and saved by the Hopes, could now lost all over again merely to promote the career of the American interloper.
May’s lifestyle simply did not fit the ideals professed by these Victorian aristocrats. Though she never said it herself, May was a dramatic example of the “new woman” of the 1890s, a breed heralded in English and American progressive writing of the time. Contrary to the more conservative Victorian ideal of woman as mother and as nurturing, passive angel of the home, the “new woman” worked outside of the home and was independent, assertive, and sensual. Many writers and commentators associated her with modernity itself, a new egalitarianism of the sexes, consistent with the drive by suffragists and suffragettes to gain the vote and the same rights as men. The “new woman” had several variants; the “wild woman” was one. She would be zestful, youthful, humorous, audacious, even shocking, and not shy about her own gratification, sexual and otherwise. Overall, she would not only be willing to cross the boundaries of convention, but would also possess an uncontrollable desire to do so. May, as an attractive, outspoken “new woman,” and Lord Francis, as an undisciplined, degenerate Victorian dandy, would make for a dynamic, voracious, almost destructive pair.
May Yohe, 1894. (photo credit 6.4)
Speculation about the couple accompanied the run of Little Christopher Columbus with its play on ducal marriage. One headline called May the “Comic Opera Duchess.”12 Another wondered whether May would be properly received by Queen Victoria at court. Some saw the theater and May’s association with it as a threat to English civilization. The discordance of May at court provoked all sorts of commentary, some quite iconoclastic, reflecting what many recognized as the contradictions and hypocrisy of Victorian respectability beset by a rampant, scandalous aristocracy. Yet May seemed to rise above the clamor by virtue of her talent and force of personality. She performed a burlesque opera for the duke of Edinburgh and the Prince of Wales at a dinner hosted by Arthur Sullivan—and the royals were reportedly “delighted.” When he heard about the possible marriage, Lord Carnarvon, a young and risqué English peer (later the sponsor of the excavations of the tomb of the Pharaoh Tutankhamen) who knew May from her backstage parties, captured the irony, “Well, we are honored, indeed: her ladyship’s adjectives would even make a marine blush.”13
In 1894, the Washington Post reported that the couple had been married. By March, the Windsor Peerage, a publication on the British aristocracy, announced that May and Lord Francis had been married. May immediately issued a denial.
Years later, May revealed what happened. That March, Lord Francis took May to his shooting box outside of London over a weekend. Francis asked May to marry him “in a peculiar way”—with a five-month “probationary” marriage. As May explained,
If at the end of the five months I still loved him we would be married formally. If by that time I had found him wanting and had grown tired of him, or found someone I liked better, I could leave and forget him.14
May also asked Francis, “Will you be bound by the same privilege—that if you are disappointed with me you will withdraw on your part?”15 Francis agreed, and so the two later announced their engagement to a small group of friends and told them also that they would begin to live together.
May rented a lovely cottage in Maresfield Gardens, Hampstead, just outside of London at the time. Here, as May says, “Lord Francis came to be husband and suitor at the same time.”16
A few weeks later, on her birthday, May recalled a behatted Francis coming into her boudoir one night as she was preparing for bed. May suspected a surprise, and when she lifted the hat, she found a case containing a string of gorgeous, pear-shaped, perfectly matched pearls. He told her they cost $350,000. The pearl necklace became, in May’s words, “Aladdin’s Lamp,” as Francis soon “showered” her with rare and expensive gems from every corner of the globe. For May, her time with Francis was like “a lover’s dream.”
During this “probation” period Lord Francis was as careful in his attentions to me as if he were indeed, just a suitor for my hand. He was with me constantly, and took me everywhere. His kisses never lost their warmth. We never spoke of our being together as a “trial.”17
While May and Francis were certainly lovers there was a familial aspect to their relationship. To some extent, Francis was like a father to May—the attentive, nurturing, provider she never enjoyed as a child. He looked after her needs and took care of her. Francis showered May with gifts, money and affection. On the other hand, May was like a mother to Francis, taking care of him, guiding him in matters of relationships, and playing the diva figure to his proud delight.
In August, an exhausted May took time off from Columbus to go yachting and prepare for her next role. By October 1894, May was starring in a new, well-received operetta, The Lady Slavey. The story line uncannily presaged her future. May plays Phyllis, who must go to work as a domestic “slave” to keep her bankrupt father from his creditors. In it she sings “What Is a Poor Girl to Do?” a catchy song by Jack Watson that immediately became a popular hit:
May Yohe in Lady Slavey. (photo credit 6.5)
Was there any poor girl so run after?
I can’t imagine why it should be so;
It’s enough to make me split my sides with laughter,
When I think of how my “mashers” come and go;
Ev’ry time that I’m sent out to do the shopping
Half a dozen I am almost sure to meet,
One by one they slyly up to me come hopping,
They await me at the corner of each street! Well,
What’s a poor girl to do?
I’m sure I can’t help it—could you?
To be young and pretty
Seems almost a pity,
But has its advantages too!18
May Yohe as Lady Slavey. (photo credit 6.6)
It is hard to understand how Lord Francis’ precarious situation—amply reported on by the English press—did not cross May’s mind as she sang this song and performed in the play. In June, the English papers and even the New York Times reported that Lord Francis had filed a statement of bankruptcy with reported assets of £104,042 and liabilities of £405,277. Yet May wore her precious jewelry, gifts of Lord Francis and other admirers—gifts worth “a King’s ransom.” She would drive up to the theater in the “neatest of broughams with a coachman in livery and accompanied by her maid” and dine regularly at the Savoy.19
Lord Francis Hope and May Yohe as a young couple. (photo credit 6.7)
On November 27, 1894, Francis arranged for a brief, quiet ceremony at the Hampstead Registry Office for him and May to be formally married. A few close friends accompanied them. As May wrote with the dreamy, fairy-tale exuberance of the Cinderella-like characters she played,
If there was any change in Lord Francis after that noon time, it was only that now he had become in sight of all the world my really true husband. And for me—well, now I was Lady May, on the way to becoming one of the proudest and richest duchesses in the British Empire, the mistress of half a score of wonderful castles and palaces—the Maysie of “Oh Honey, My Honey” transformed into a peeress of the realm and a prospective Her Grace!
Now I, the poor dressmaker’s daughter, was in line for the strawberry crown of a duchess, for my husband was heir to the duke of Newcastle, one of the most conservative and wealthiest dukes in the empire.
As the prospective Duchess of Newcastle, I was in line to be mistress of famous Clumber Castle … filled with old masters, wonderful furniture and art treasu
res of immense value … It contains ten beautiful old cabinets from the Doge’s Palace at Venice. On its walls hang Van Dyck’s “Rinaldo and Armida” … and a number of family portraits by Sir Thomas Lawrence. Clumber is packed from garret to cellar with art treasures, the Sevres and Dresden porcelain being unrivalled …
The estate consists of 35,600 acres of land … The present Duke has built a splendid private chapel on his estate in Gothic style. This is almost a cathedral in size … The Duke has an income of $600,000 a year, largely due to coal mines on his property …
Lord Francis has inherited from his mother the great Deepdene Castle and estate … like Clumber, it contains many rare paintings and works of art. The Hope diamond also came to Lord Francis from his mother, who, as the daughter of a wealthy banker, Thomas Hope, brought a large fortune to the Newcastle family. The country residence of Lord Francis is Castle Blayney, in County Monaghan, Ireland.
All these became mine when I became Lady Hope.20
The duke of Newcastle’s Clumber Castle, Nottingham, c. 1900. (photo credit 6.8)
I was envied by the richest and noblest of a great nation.
I was received in the most select circles. I was the rage of London in the music halls and to me came not only the highest salary ever paid an actress but the homage of gifts.… I had a husband who, seemingly, adored me. Yet almost from that first hour the course of fortune changed until I was forced down through all the humiliations that can come to a proud woman.
—May Yohe, recalling the period after her marriage1
CHAPTER SEVEN
Destitute Duchess
LORD FRANCIS’ FINANCIAL SITUATION was more dire than it appeared to May and was captured in newspaper commentary:
Lord Francis Hope was married the other day to May Yohe, the young actress, and this week he has been spending part of his honeymoon in Froway, the unromantic precincts of bankruptcy courts. The proceedings showed that he badly needed someone to look after him, and he ought to be thankful that he has now got a clever young woman as his wife, who will be able to keep him out of the hands of moneylenders if any one can.2
The situation led George Bernard Shaw to cleverly remark, “He’s Hope, and it’s a cinch he has faith, seeing that he married Yohe and she hasn’t got a dollar in the world; so I guess it’s a case of Faith, Hope, and Charity”—referring to the three key Catholic virtues.3
Lord Francis’ checks at the Lyric Theatre were bouncing. He couldn’t pay for the Morning, his London newspaper. He tried to sell a number of his family’s paintings, but was stopped by his siblings, who claimed in court that if the sale went through, “the money would just be frittered away.”4 Lord Francis’ debts at the bankruptcy proceedings were found to amount to more than £650,000, the equivalent of more than $3 million at the time and roughly $81 million today.
Hope argued that his financial troubles were largely caused by payments of succession duties, payments for the liabilities of family members, and interest paid to lenders. This was true, but much of his debt was also incurred by extravagant overspending, speculation in the theater business, and huge gambling losses.
The bankruptcy settlement was harsh. All of the income due Lord Francis from his estate was to go into a sinking fund, controlled by trustees, to pay off his debts. He was left with £2,000 annually to provide for himself and his wife. For many in England, this was a substantial amount, but it was totally inadequate to cover the couple’s extravagant lifestyle. Among those expenses were the home in Hampstead, a yacht, several servants, and, of course, May’s pets—a wheezy bulldog and a baby tiger. Seemingly oblivious to it all, the couple continued to sail in the Cowes regatta, race horses at Langtry, and dine at the Savoy.
Meanwhile, May continued her role in The Lady Slavey. Reviews were mixed. Critic Henry Hibbert noted that May “gambols very agreeably through the part of the neat-ankled Phyllis. There is a crudity in her acting which is undeniably piquant; and her clarion voice—to my ear its timbre seems precisely that of a cornet-à-piston—is certainly unique, though its beauty may be open to question.”5
Nonetheless, May was a celebrity. Her songs were sung and performed around London. Other actresses tried to imitate her contralto voice. Her stage costumes—especially those of Little Christopher Columbus—were inspiring fashion. A gold mine in South Africa was named after her. So too was a carnation: reddish-pink, sweetly fragrant, handsome in form, strong and vigorous in growth. This was somewhat ironic, as May couldn’t stand to have flowers near her when she sang, claiming their perfume “utterly destroyed” her voice.
May Yohe, 1895. (photo credit 7.1)
With Lady Slavey winding down in January 1895, May was ready to be introduced to London society as the prospective duchess of Newcastle. May claimed this happened at a dinner hosted by Lord Alfred de Rothschild, scion of the famously wealthy Jewish banking family, former head of the Bank of England, patron of the arts, and close friend of the Prince of Wales. May wrote:
It was my first society recognition, and my presence caused a great sensation … I wore, for the first time, the great diamond … The Prince of Wales was to be a guest, but he arrived late. When he came in there already was a tacit agreement among the others that they would snub poor little May Yohe. The Countess de Mannin walked by me with her nose upraised, looking me over quite superciliously. The Duchess of Edinburgh … walked up to me, looked at me and walked away as stiff as you please.
But when the Prince came in what did he do but walk straight up to me. When I curtseyed he said: “So glad, Lady May, to see you here. Now I know we won’t be dull. I don’t know where they have put me but I hope they have put you beside me” … There was a scurrying about to see that I was placed beside him. Then it was funny how the Countess de Mannin and the Duchess of Coburgh-Gotha fawned upon me … be assured I snubbed them good and plenty.6
The dinner lasted until five o’clock the next morning, whereupon the Prince escorted her to the door. May wrote, “I was very happy when I went home that morning with the Hope diamond blazing about my neck.” “After that I was as popular as Lady Francis Hope in society as I was as May Yohe on the stage.”7
There is no corroboration that this dinner actually took place. There are, however, ample press accounts about the Prince of Wales attending May’s performances; he came to Little Christopher Columbus at least twice. The prince had an eye for alluring young actresses, having had affairs with both Lillie Langtry and Sarah Bernhardt. He attended some of May’s friendly backstage gatherings, and they appeared together in public several times. Once, May greeted the prince, “Shake, old cock of the walk—how do you do?”8 The brazen familiarity shocked reporters, but lent some credence to May’s account.
If the dinner led to May’s acceptance in the upper realms of British aristocracy, there was a glaring exception—Lord Francis’ own family, the Pelhams of Newcastle. Things were still cold between May and Lord Francis’ brother, the reigning duke, her mother-in-law Henrietta Hope, and other relatives.
May’s recounting of the dinner, written almost twenty-five years later, places the Hope diamond around her neck. That is almost surely a fiction, and raises doubt that the dinner ever happened. According to court documents filed by Lord Francis in late 1898, the Hope diamond had never been removed from a vault at Parr’s Bank in Cavendish Square, where it had been deposited since 1894. Newspaper stories noted the prohibitive cost of insuring the Hope diamond and the measures required for its security. Lord Francis himself, decades later, declared to the press that May never wore the Hope diamond.
May could have been lying about wearing the gem. It would not by any means be her last fictional or apocryphal tale about the Hope diamond. More charitably however, she could have been exaggerating. Lying and exaggerating were both mainstays in her repertoire. The couple had a replica made of the Hope diamond, and May could have been wearing that costume jewelry diamond to the dinner—if it indeed occurred.
Even as May sought acceptance into Brit
ish high society, she nonetheless flaunted the fact that she was American. She relished her role as an “outsider.” It evoked her devilish, roguish nature. Her brazen attitude stood in marked contrast to the American women sent by their extremely wealthy, status-aspiring, Gilded Age parents to marry failing British aristocrats and play their wedded roles dutifully and quietly. Not so for May. First, she married Lord Francis without a million-dollar dowry. She earned her position with her own wiles, not family wealth. “I am a real American,” she’d always tell the press. “I am settled down in London for good—but I’m a real American for all that.”9 As if to exaggerate the point, she would often say she was “a real native American … I am not a Yankee—because my mother is an American Indian.”10 She even had that written in her theatrical biographies.
May was long planning to bring her stardom back to the United States. She envisioned a U.S. tour of Little Christopher Columbus even as she prepared for her next London stage role in Dandy Dick Whittington, where she was again playing the male lead. That production generated great interest from her admirers, with considerable competition for the good seats—and she was greeted with “a most enthusiastic reception” according to the Times.11 But her performance generated some harsh reviews. One pointed to her theatrical extravagance.
May Yohe as Dandy Dick Whittington. (photo credit 7.2)
Then there is May Yohe, who, whenever she is not on the stage, must evidently be in the hands of her dresser, so many are the costumes in which she successively appears. As a London apprentice in brown velvet knickerbockers, as a sailor, as a midshipman, and as a jockey. And of course she sings a plantation song with lots of ‘honey’ in it.12
Madcap May Page 8