Consuelo and Alva Vanderbilt

by Amanda Mackenzie Stuart

  William K. Vanderbilt immediately came from Paris to join Consuelo while Winston Churchill wrote to his mother from Blenheim on 13 October: ‘Sunny has definitely separated from Consuelo, who is in London at Sunderland House. Her father returns to Paris on Monday. I have suggested to her that you would be v. willing to go and stay with her for a while, as I cannot bear to think of her being all alone during these dark days. If she should send for you, I hope you will put aside other things and go to her. I know how you always are a prop to lean on in bad times. We are v. miserable here. It is a miserable business.’69

  His mother, who had recently married George Cornwallis-West, had already heard the news. She was at Sunderland House by 16 October and their letters crossed:

  At the last moment when I was in the train – I gave up Floors [staying at Floors Castle with the Duke and Duchess of Roxburghe] and came here as I was wanted – you will be I know awfully sorry to hear that Sunny and Consuelo have separated. It is a terrible thing, and I can’t tell you how painful it all is – Mr Vanderbilt is here and in a few days the legal separation will have been signed – and then it is finished forever – poor Consuelo is utterly miserable and dignified and quite calm … as far as I can I avoid everyone for fear of being asked questions – I feel as sorry for Sunny as I do for her – and I am obliged to say that he is justified in taking the course he has – it does not make it any easier that she has brought the whole thing on herself – how the women who have had 20 lovers and are kept by rich Jews et autres will be virtuously shocked.70

  Both Winston and his mother did their best to help both sides in the immediate aftermath of the separation. Winston sent presents to the boys at Blenheim, while Jennie took Consuelo off to Salisbury Hall near St Albans – the home she shared with her new (much younger) husband George Cornwallis-West. George wrote to Winston – who was simultaneously trying to sort out a loan to cover his stepfather’s losses – ‘Poor little Consuelo is here I do pity her with all my heart, what a tragedy, the whole thing reminds me of Hogarth’s series of satyrs [sic] “Marriage à la mode.” Take my advice and if ever you do marry, do it from motives of affection and none other. No riches in the world can compensate for anything else.’71

  Malicious gossip whirled round London, some of it put about by the Duke’s supporters. They were led by Lady Sarah Wilson who spread tittle-tattle via Minnie Paget, well known to be London’s biggest gossip. ‘Sarah has behaved like a perfect beast,’ wrote George Cornwallis-West to Churchill, ‘and the sooner she is told the better, I heard every little detail, unsavoury and otherwise, from a man today who was told by Minnie Paget who got it all from Sarah. I naturally did not discuss the case, but merely denied any knowledge of such details. If Sarah thinks she is championing Sunny’s case by casting mud (some of which will undoubtedly come back to him) she is much mistaken. Surely the obvious line for all your family to take is to decline all discussion on the matter, let alone volunteering disgusting gossip with the most renowned of gossip mongers.’72

  Unsurprisingly, it proved impossible to dam the flow of talk. Alice Vanderbilt saw William K. Vanderbilt’s wife, Anne, in Paris and wrote to her daughter Gertrude afterwards:

  It is very sad about Consuelo, is it not? Anne told me they were to be separated but did not specify whether there is to be a divorce, but as you will probably see Anne you will hear all about it. She made no charge against M. in talking to me except to say he was impossible and that he had insulted C. in every possible way and that for two years there had been trouble. Of course, the English will point to the example of her Mother and Father (i.e. on their divorce) which is unfortunate as that does give M. a leg to stand on, but they certainly cannot put anything to C’s charge, although I hear the Churchills are furious and are going to be as unpleasant as possible … It’s excessively sad, and as C. will always be an object of observation under any circumstances, the outlook is unpleasant.73

  The problem was that malicious and inaccurate gossip about Consuelo’s extra-marital relationships endangered not just her social position, but the extent to which she might be able to see her children. Jennie’s letter to Winston suggested that she, at any rate, did not think that Consuelo was one of those ‘women who have had 20 lovers and are kept by rich Jews et autres’, but the Churchill camp were now implying something different. The Duke was certainly making ‘charges’ wrote Alice Vanderbilt to Gertrude, ‘implicating 3 some say 6, but the real reason seems to be that she is physically repulsive to him and that he cannot bear to be near her’.74 One reason for treating the Duke’s ‘charges’ with caution can be found in another furious letter from George Cornwallis-West to Winston Churchill. He had discovered that Sarah Wilson had been going round suggesting that he, George, had been one of Consuelo’s lovers. ‘She actually had the impudence to tell Consuelo that she [Sarah] was not certain whether I was her [Consuelo’s] lover, and the only reason that she had any doubt about it was because I had borrowed money from Sunny. I don’t want to start a row between Jennie and the Churchill family, but I am sorely tempted to go and tell Sarah what I think of her, and if I did she certainly would not forget it in a hurry. I’ll come and look you up some time tomorrow. What a liar that woman is.’75

  In spite of George and Jennie Cornwallis-West’s friendly support, however, they had an upset with Consuelo on 2 November that ended in a quarrel at Sunderland House. Jennie felt strongly that discretion in the matter of affairs was essential. She may have let slip her view that Consuelo had, at least in part, ‘brought the whole thing on herself’ (presumably because of her lack of discretion in going to Paris with Lord Castlereagh) and that Sunny was justified in taking a stand. Consuelo may have seen such even-handedness as betrayal. Afterwards, Jennie Cornwallis-West wrote to her that her conduct was ‘inexplicable’ and that she was ‘deeply wounded’. ‘I make every allowance for the frame of mind you must be in during such a terrible crisis in your life – hurt that you should turn on me who have not only been a true friend to you, and had you been a sister could not have shown you more loyalty or affection … I do not regret it – God knows you are not in a position to alienate a friend – therefore I will still call myself one.’76 But the breach was serious, for even by the end of 1907 (when they had, on the face of it, made up the quarrel) Jennie Cornwallis-West refused an invitation to spend Christmas with friends, the Ridleys, because Consuelo would be there; Winston’s brother, Jack, felt compelled to refuse the invitation too. From then onwards, the Cornwallis-Wests seem to have spent more time supporting the Duke. There was a quarrel between Churchill and Sarah Wilson too, which the Duke wrote telling him to forget because it had been caused by Consuelo being ‘mischievous and malicious’.77

  Winston Churchill now did his best to bring about a separation agreement between the Marlboroughs which would simultaneously do the least damage to Sunny and protect Consuelo’s reputation – essential if she were to see her children and live the life of a separated woman in Edwardian society. Her reputation would be irrevocably damaged if her infidelity with Lord Castlereagh came out in court. This may have been one reason why William K. Vanderbilt was adamant there could be no question of divorce, though it is also tempting to suspect that he did not wish his daughter to detach herself entirely from the house of Marlborough, whatever she might feel about the matter. Even Alice Vanderbilt, no friend of divorce, found his attitude peculiar, writing to Gertrude: ‘Her Father will not listen to there being any divorce; queer is it not after his own experience!’ Alice also thought it was wrong of William K. to go back to Paris in view of the publicity the matter was inevitably attracting. ‘How like a man to get out of the way. Why could not W. K. have stayed in London for at least a few days after the publicity? He got well out the way before the papers got the story!’78 One reason that William K. may have ‘got out of the way’ was to avoid Alva who was steaming across the Atlantic to London, ready for a fight. In spite of accusations made by Town Topics in the past – that she was all too ready to tak
e advantage of her position as ‘the American dowager’ – she seems to have been much more ready than her ex-husband to contemplate divorce for Consuelo. The problem was that the terms of Edwardian divorce law gave Sunny the upper hand here – in 1906 a husband could simply accuse his wife of infidelity while a wife had to prove both infidelity and physical cruelty, or desertion and non-support. However, the more sensible of the Duke’s friends and supporters felt it was more important to stop him from taking a vindictive and unfair step which would damage his own standing, and make his children’s lives a misery. Even if it were true that he was in the stronger position legally, his feelings for Gladys Deacon were well known, and it was the view of the American press, at least, that the Duchess’s lawyers had not a shadow of doubt that as a result of the evidence against the Duke, the court would give the custody of the children for at least half the year to their mother.

  Hugh Cecil, a supporter of Sunny’s, wrote two long and thoughtful letters about the Duke’s position to Winston Churchill who was emerging as chief intermediary. He was concerned that the Duke appeared to be prepared to disgrace Consuelo publicly while Alva was threatening legal action to stop him. In the first he argued that: ‘I am satisfied after hearing much talk that Sunny is in danger of falling between two stools. What I said to you is evidently true: what he is doing pleases neither the Christians nor the fast set. The Christians feel that whatever his wife may have done at any rate he is blame as himself unfaithful: the fast set do not like a fuss about such a matter and the implied rebuke at their own lives.’79 Saying that Sunny’s position was that ‘his wife is unfit to live with him because she went wrong before he did and because the standard for women in these things is higher than for men’, really would not impress anyone very much, he added.

  In the next letter Hugh Cecil discussed Sunny’s view that the timing of their respective affairs somehow made a difference to their relative degrees of guilt. Here, it is unclear exactly what he meant. Consuelo may have had an affair – possibly with Helleu – as early as 1900 – and a relationship between the Duke and Gladys Deacon may have taken place after that, or in 1903 after he returned from the Delhi Durbar. It is also possible that the Duke and Gladys Deacon finally became lovers in 1906 at the time of Consuelo’s affair with Lord Castlereagh; but that too is pure conjecture. In the event, Gladys’s name was not introduced into any legal discussion, although it came up frequently in reports of the separation in the American press, along with vague references to ‘actresses’. Whatever the truth, Hugh Cecil was clear about two things. Sunny had married Consuelo without loving her, which he should not have done; and Sunny had also been unfaithful. However badly Consuelo had behaved ‘he is not and has not been absolved now by her misconduct and that therefore his unfaithfulness is a thing of which he ought to be seriously ashamed. The doctrine that the obligations of the two sexes are quite different is not now believed even by the world to anything like the degree that it used to be’. Cecil went on to say that even if Sunny believed it was his duty to clear himself of all complicity in Consuelo’s affair, ‘he may not rightly cast stones’; the children’s welfare mattered above all else, and that it was ‘really very wrong indeed for Sunny out of vindictiveness – for now there can be no question of dishonourable complaisance – to insist on a separation which will ruin their lives’.80 Hugh Cecil felt strongly that in view of this, the Marlboroughs should attempt a reconciliation.

  His views were studiously ignored for both sides were now committed to a legal separation. Far from being wrapped up in a few days, as William K. and Jennie Cornwallis-West had thought, negotiations continued for weeks, punctuated by threats of court action by Alva who tried hard to insert a ‘social clause’ into the agreement to stop Sunny and his supporters from making the kind of vindictive allegations which George Cornwallis-West had so vigorously repudiated. This in turn was met by threats from Sunny to the effect that if ‘the Hag’ persisted in talking about going to court, Consuelo could expect no protection ‘formal or informal’ from him ever again.81

  By Christmas, a settlement had almost been reached: neither party would allege infidelity publicly and the boys would spend six months of the year with their father, and six months with their mother. There were concerns on the part of Sunny’s cousin and best man, Ivor Guest, that this was tantamount to an admission of Sunny’s guilt and he was also worried about the Duke’s physical and psychological state: ‘He seems quite worn out physically and mentally with the struggle and his judgement I think suffers in consequence’, and that: ‘He allows himself to be talked over by his opponents (ie Lady Lord Londonderry [sic]).’82

  Just before Christmas, both Consuelo and the Duke of Marlborough thanked Winston for his help in settling matters thus far. He replied to Consuelo with a charming note in which he said he would always cherish the memory of their friendship. Then, on 4 January 1907 Churchill wrote an uncharacteristically angry letter to his cousin, which he never sent: ‘As I fully expected, everything is back again on the war basis … Of course, I cannot save you from yourself. If you cannot fight and will not make peace you must just be hunted down and butchered. When I think how near we were to a satisfactory settlement it makes me heartsick to see you cast away your last chance of a decent life by folly and weakness.’83

  The issue once again seemed to be Sunny’s persistent allegations against Consuelo, which Winston Churchill felt were unreasonable and unfair. ‘All you were asked to do is give up the pleasure of blackguarding your wife. Rather than surrender that, you will immerse yourself in such shame and public hatred that no one will ever be able to help you any more …’ Once again, Alva was poised to take legal action to fight defamation of her daughter’s character. ‘If you are not equal to the task of settling this social difficulty, why won’t you entrust it to Cecil or to Ivor? Let them talk to Mrs B. There is still time. But the days are slipping by: and at any moment a step may be taken that will be fatal.’ Winston’s exasperation with his cousin finally got the better of him. ‘Why on earth can’t you face the situation like a man? Do your best to help Consuelo to have a fair chance in life, under the new conditions, and forget for a moment your petty pride, your shoddy consistency … and the damned fools to whom you listen … From the bottom of my heart I feel for you in your distraction; but if you muddle this business any longer compassion is all you will ever get in the world, and that only from a few dumbfounded friends.’84

  Although the Duke never received this letter because Winston wisely withheld it, there was clearly a froideur. The next letter to Winston came from the Blenheim estate office asking him when his three ponies might be leaving. But at the end of January the Duke wrote a warm-hearted letter in response to one from Winston who was concerned by his silence, and they made up the quarrel. By now, terms had finally been agreed and ratified by William K., although there were still rumblings about whether or not Consuelo should be allowed to visit Blenheim. The Duke had delayed making contact with Winston, he explained, because he knew that Mrs Belmont felt that Winston was her intermediary and ‘relies on your influence to work on me’. She had also tried to manipulate Ivor Guest and Hugh Cecil, but as soon as she realised that the Duke had broken off contact with them she agreed to the terms of the settlement very quickly. ‘My dear you tried to bring pressure on me to do what you wished but not what I wanted,’ wrote the Duke. ‘You must forgive me if … I had to pretend to be a stranger from you. It was the only way I could triumph over that old Hag. She is now utterly deflated.’85 Town Topics concurred with this latter description, observing with ill-concealed glee that on Oliver Belmont’s Long Island estate even the rare black and white pigs were squealing in sympathy, the Jersey calf brayed sonorously and ‘the stepfather of the Duchess looked the picture of dead hope’.86

  Newly separated, Consuelo accepted an invitation from her father to escape publicity’s glare by joining him on a Valiant cruise in the Mediterranean, accompanied by her two sons. Between the beginning of January and
18 February 1907, she found herself back on board, drifting once more in the company of her Vanderbilt family from France to Italy, Greece, and Tunis. Of the two, however, it was the Duke who appeared more miserable. It was agreed even by those who liked him that he had not married Consuelo for love; but he seemed to suffer more when they separated, afflicted again by the melancholia that was never far away. In April 1907, he went with Daisy, Princess of Pless and Jennie Cornwallis-West on a motoring expedition from Beaulieu-sur-mer, on the Riviera, to Avignon. But everything seemed to go wrong. The Duke’s car ran out of petrol and he arrived in Avignon hours late; and after dinner when he pushed a table out of the way, it collapsed. ‘Down the whole thing went,’ wrote Daisy, ‘Dessert, wine, butter, olives, dates, plates: the corner of the room into which everything fell looked like a pig-sty … The Duke was miserable; by the way he looked at the debris one might have thought he was peering at his own life, which at the present moment is in much the same state.’87

  * She played the role of the Countess of Clondyke and sang:

  ‘The season’s over, all the lights are blown out far the present;

  I feel a perfect wreck, of course, a feeling not unpleasant …

  And well I may, for not a ball was held, nor candle lighted

  In Palace or in marble hall, where I was not invited.

  And: I feel so tired

  Terribly, awfully tired

  I think I shall die

  I don’t know why

  Except – I’m tired.’