Queen Victoria's Mysterious Daughter

by Lucinda Hawksley

  Louise was welcomed warmly by the Campbells; her parents-in-law and Lorne’s siblings had taken to her and were pleased she was happy to be ‘one of them’, rather than insisting on stiff formality. The Duchess of Argyll would later write that her son’s wife was ‘a pleasure in our lives’. The Duke of Argyll and Louise had liked each other since before Louise had agreed to marry his son, and at the start of her marriage Louise’s relationship with her father-in-law was one of mutual affection and respect (this would change in years to come when she considered the duke had behaved unkindly). In preparation for the couple’s honeymoon, the duke had bought Benmore Lodge on the Isle of Mull. It is a pretty and pleasant house surrounded by lush parkland. During the honeymoon, Louise (and possibly Lorne) painted murals on its walls. Later residents are divided in their opinion of the murals, which range from ‘excellent’ to ‘dreadful’. One resident who lived in Benmore Lodge for many years in the mid twentieth century commented that there were ‘two splendid murals on the walls of the sitting room, which are still there, as well as two hideous others not done by her, at least I am fairly certain they weren’t’. I was lucky enough to visit the house, thanks to the generosity of the family who were renting it for the summer when I appeared unannounced and asked them about it. Having heard the paintings described as ‘murals’ I expected them to stretch the length of the walls, but they are small in size. They differ greatly in accomplishment; two of the murals I saw are very pretty and accomplished and seem to indicate the freedom Louise felt for perhaps the first time in her life. As a married woman, her time of independence was beginning. The others, I would agree, were almost certainly not painted by Louise.

  The year, however, was to prove tragic. While Louise and Lorne were away, Alix gave birth to a son, who died. Once again the Princess of Wales had gone into labour prematurely and the new baby boy was even smaller than Prince Eddy had been. He was baptised almost immediately after his birth, with the names Alexander John Charles Albert (but was always referred to as Prince John). He lived for only one day, dying inauspiciously on Good Friday. Louise would later hear how her beloved Alix had remained cocooned in bed with her dead baby, crying in misery. She wished fervently that she could have been there to comfort her. Prince John was to be Alix’s last baby. Despite the fact that she was just twenty-six years old, her multiple health problems meant that she was extremely frail and the doctors advised the future king that his wife must never suffer pregnancy again. A short time after Bertie and Alix’s tragic bereavement, Louise heard the shocking news that her friend Sybil St Albans had died in childbirth. Sybil’s husband was left a single father to three children, including the newborn baby. Sybil had been one of the few members of the royal household whom Louise had been able to trust with her secrets. She missed her friend dreadfully over the coming decades.

  In order to honour Sybil, Louise began working on a memorial; the project allowed Louise a physical expression of her grief. She sculpted a portrait medallion of her friend, a style of art that had become increasingly popular, thanks to the work of Thomas Woolner (the only sculptor in the now-famous Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood (PRB)). The Brotherhood had become highly influential in the British art world, even though it had disbanded after only five years. It had come to an end in 1853 when Woolner had set sail for Australia hoping to make his fortune in the gold rush – certain he would never do so as an artist. Although he did find a small amount of gold, his greatest achievement while overseas was perfecting his technique of producing portrait medallions – portable round portraits, sculpted in relief. These became very fashionable in Australian society, with many local luminaries and their families commissioning them. He set sail for England in July 1854, encouraged by his success in Australia. He went on to become Professor of Sculpture at the Royal Academy – and was memorable for delivering not a single lecture during his tenure. His most celebrated works included statues of John Stuart Mill, Prince Albert and Sir Stamford Raffles. The last of these was erected in Singapore (today the precious original is in a museum, but a replica can still be seen marking the spot where it is believed Raffles first landed in Singapore).

  While Louise was working on her portrait medallion and grieving for her dead friend, she was worrying about her mother. Queen Victoria was very ill – but as the queen had ‘cried wolf’ so often, the newspapers refused to believe that she was genuinely unwell. Once again the monarch came in for of criticism for not carrying out her public duties. This time, however, the queen really was ill: for some time she had been suffering from blood poisoning, she was unable to walk and had to be pushed around in a wheelchair, usually by the long-suffering Beatrice. Louise and Beatrice became exhausted by their mother’s capricious demands and Louise and Lorne longed to go overseas to escape the British winter; the queen refused to allow this and an irate exchange of letters between mother and daughter ensued, with Victoria pulling rank and forbidding Louise to leave the country. Louise was starting to realise that marriage was not going to afford her the independence she had craved. The queen’s illness was debilitating, but she was recovered by the end of the year – just in time for another family health scare.

  For months, Queen Victoria’s family had been dreading the tenth anniversary of Albert’s death. Now, as the date approached, they were horrified to hear that Bertie had been diagnosed with typhoid fever. The whole family waited in trepidation and Louise stayed with Alix as much as possible throughout Bertie’s illness. The house at Sandringham, where the future king lay on what was feared to be his deathbed, was overcrowded. Louise and Beatrice had to sleep in the same bed and the queen cruelly refused to allow either Helena or Vicky to visit their ailing brother. Lorne was snubbed by being pointedly not invited into the family drama. As the dreaded fatal date of 14 December grew close, the queen became convinced that she was going to lose her eldest son on the same date she had lost her husband. She began to spend more time with her son, and, rather pathetically, Bertie repeatedly told his mother through his fever how ‘kind’ it was of her to visit him. It was a terrible few weeks, but by Christmas, the crisis was past and Bertie was starting to recover. The family spent their first Christmas at Windsor Castle since Albert had died there.

  Bertie’s illness had two fortunate outcomes. He and his mother grew closer and the country began to exhibit patriotic fervour for the queen and her family. Victoria had been surprised and touched by the number of supportive letters and telegrams that had poured in from all over the country during her son’s illness. For the first time in many years, the queen had started to elicit the sympathy and understanding of her subjects. Another positive outcome was that Bertie and Alix, whose marriage had not been happy, grew closer. The Princess of Wales confided happily to Louise, ‘We are never apart, and are now enjoying our second “Honey Moon”.’ Louise and Lorne were, however, not so happy. An intriguing letter survives from Leopold in which he writes to his sister: ‘I am very sorry also about other matters, but I sincerely trust that what you say will not be the case, and that you are taking a gloomier view of affairs than necessary.’ Although it is not known what the ‘other matters’ were, it seems likely that they were to do with her marriage.

  In the new year, thanksgiving services were held for the recovery of the Prince of Wales from the illness that was believed to have killed his father. Ironically, almost immediately after receiving so much love and affection from her subjects, the queen was brought face to face with the more terrifying realities of her reign. While she was returning to Buckingham Palace from St Paul’s Cathedral, having just attended a thanksgiving service for Bertie’s life, a Fenian terrorist leapt on to the queen’s open carriage. Arthur and Leopold were in the landau with their mother and all three were rendered powerless by the shock. The man, Arthur O’Connor, was carrying a pistol. His intention, however, was not to kill (the pistol was later discovered to have been broken and quite useless as anything except a threat). What O’Connor wanted was to force the queen, at gunpoint, to sign a d
ocument he had with him, a petition for the release of Fenian prisoners. The queen and princes’ rescue was effected by the ubiquitous John Brown who tackled and disarmed the attacker. Arthur O’Connor was later sentenced to a year in prison and given twenty lashes.

  The attack on the queen was not the only royal topic being discussed at this time. If Louise had thought that once she was married speculation about her private life would end, she was disappointed. Within weeks of the wedding there were already whisperings about the expected pregnancy and with every month that passed without an announcement, Louise was placed under more pressure. Throughout her marriage, Louise would take regular overseas trips to spas and destinations renowned for their healthy air.

  Spa trips overseas would become a regular part of Louise’s routine. She would take the majority of her overseas ‘health’ trips with a female friend, usually Lady Sophia MacNamara. As the years progressed and there were no signs of the princess producing an heir, these trips were assumed to be Louise’s attempts to improve her fertility.

  Querying why there was no sign of a royal baby became a hot topic in the newspapers almost as soon as Louise signed her name on her marriage certificate. It is a sign of how accessible the people of Britain felt Princess Louise to be that she began to receive intimate letters from complete strangers offering her advice. Later she would say that she had received hundreds of such letters, many containing very private details of how her correspondents had managed to overcome infertility and what sexual tricks they had used to help them conceive. In a world where women were defined by marriage and motherhood, being a childless princess was a difficult role. Regular rumours were broadcast that the princess was expecting a child, such as the confident report in the Manchester Evening News, from ‘our London correspondent’, on 30 August 1873: ‘It is stated that the Princess Louise, Marchioness of Lorne, will shortly make an addition to the house of Argyll.’ Both the royal family and the Argylls also put pressure on her. In a letter of 1874 Vicky wrote to her sister that Louise and Lorne’s country house, Dornden, in Kent, wanted for nothing except ‘a few little fair heads looking out of the windows above – perhaps I may see that glad sight some day please God’. Louise’s one ally in her childless state was her mother, who could always see the benefits of not enduring pregnancy and childbirth. Writing to Louise after the tragic death of a friend’s daughter and her baby in childbirth, the queen commented that perhaps Louise’s motherin-law might realise ‘that it is not always such happiness to have such prospects’. She added rather cryptically in the same letter that ‘Lorne I know will’. She also sent Louise regular letters about boring christenings, in which the mothers looked a fright and the babies even worse.

  In February 1872, she and Lorne were in Menton, a health resort in the South of France: they had a sociable time, with Alice and her husband, and several of Lorne’s relations. Louise had been unwell for some weeks; the pain in her knee was troubling her again and she had been plagued by a persistent cough. She told friends she was struggling to deal with the damp greyness of a British winter and longing for sunshine and bright blue skies. Her illness was physical, but exacerbated by a feeling of emotional depression. Louise was obsessive about her health: she became renowned for the well-equipped medicine case she carried around with her, packed with homeopathic and conventional remedies, which she was always quick to offer if anyone in her party was suffering. Unfortunately the Hôtel Bellevue did not meet the princess’s requirements – she described it as horribly dirty and unhygienic. Louise was especially shocked by the fact that there were no bathtubs; she loved her long, cleansing baths. The party, in the words of Louise’s letters to her mother, made ‘the best of it’ and her spirits were raised by the warm, ‘beautiful’ weather. Leaving the sanitary disappointments of Menton behind them, Louise and Lorne travelled to Paris where Louise thrilled in the vibrant atmosphere of a city so recently released from the grip of the terrifying siege and a bloody war. The artists of London and Paris were closely connected and many travelled regularly between the two cities to study and to sell their works. Many young artists had fled to England during the Franco-Prussian War;1 when Louise and Lorne arrived in Paris, they had returned and the city was buzzing with energy.

  At the start of her marriage, Louise was happy to enjoy the novelty of being able to live as she chose. She had started to become involved in education reform and helped with the launch of the Girls’ Public Day School Company, a charity with which she would remain closely involved. Both Louise and Lorne were passionate about the need for girls and boys to receive a proper education. Until now, it had been very common for girls to leave school after a few rudimentary years. Louise was determined to change this. She became friendly with one of Lorne’s relations, Madeleine Wyndham (née Campbell), and was particularly interested in a new artistic project for women with which Madeleine was involved: the School of Art Needlework in South Kensington (of which Princess Helena would be appointed first president). The school aimed both to revive what was seen as a failing art, and to train respectable women, who had fallen on hard times, so that they could find employment and support their families.

  Both Madeleine and Louise were patrons of Whistler, whose unusual modern work they admired. Visiting art galleries and other artists’ studios was becoming a regular part of Louise’s life and she often wrote to Leopold telling him about the works she had seen and the ways in which these artists ordered their studios. In the 1880s, Madeleine Wyndham and her husband, Percy, became part of a bohemian set that Louise was delighted to be involved with: the Souls. This was a group of aristocratic, educated men and women who met to talk about the issues of the day – the only rule being that the conversation should be intelligent or witty. One of their most celebrated members was Arthur Balfour, whose brother was married to Lorne’s sister, Frances. Another was the beautiful Violet Manners, Duchess of Rutland, with whom Louise would become close friends. They were all in thrall to the work of Edward Burne-Jones, who was rapidly becoming one of the most famous artists in the country. The Souls were concerned with the great questions of life and death – particularly death, as they had all been greatly affected by the deaths of two of their friends, May Lyttelton and Laura Lyttelton (née Tennant – the sister of Margot Asquith). The group received its name when their friend Lord Charles Beresford commented, ‘You all sit and talk about each other’s souls – I shall call you The Souls.’

  The new Marchioness of Lorne sometimes found it difficult to keep up with her brilliant and wealthy friends. Despite being the daughter of the queen and being married to the son of a duke, Louise had a relatively small income, especially when compared to her siblings, who had married royalty. A large number of expenses had to be met. It would have been impossible for a woman in her position not to have had an expensive house and the requisite number of servants. After all the necessary expenses and salaries had been covered, she had little disposable income. Her siblings pitied Louise for having to economise over things they would never have thought about.

  Louise and Lorne’s first home was 1 Grosvenor Crescent, owned by their relative, the Duke of Westminster. It was from this elegant town house that Louise prepared for her first London Season as a married woman. Like the other royal children, Louise had been granted by Parliament a settlement of £30,000 when she married, but unlike her siblings she had no great financial resources available from her husband as the Duke of Argyll had an expensive estate to keep. Louise learnt to economise early, discussing with her family and in-laws the merits of wallpapering versus painting – the former being cheaper – and whether it was necessary to open up all the rooms of the house when it was only she and Lorne and their small staff living there. There are no records of how Louise chose to decorate this first home, although it is known that she decided to keep changes to a minimum, in the hope that this home was temporary. Louise was not fond of the overstuffed, cluttered look that typifies so much of Victorian interior decor. She appreciated beauty and spac
e and she wanted, more than anything, to make her home one in which she, Lorne and their friends would feel comfortable. The newly-weds were agreed that they wanted bohemian comfort, not the stiff formality of the royal homes. Louise loved bright colours – she was tired of feeling oppressed by the gloominess of mourning. Her home would be a place where creative, artistic and fascinating people could meet and talk and feel inspired.

  Lorne’s family had been concerned that his wife would be full of ‘royal’ ways and would not be content to be the wife of a marquess, but they were pleasantly surprised. The Argyll family, and the local people in their part of Scotland, were impressed with the ways in which Louise adapted to fit in with their lives. They could not have known how much she had been looking forward to being able to live with such a difference from the royal household as the Argylls’ way of life provided.

  They were also impressed that Louise was able to cook, sew and genuinely run a household. If a servant did not know how to do something, or the food was substandard, Louise did not just tell them to improve, she could go into the servants’ hall or kitchen and put it right herself. No one had expected a princess to dirty her hands and cook dinner for the family.

  It was a mark of how quickly the people of Argyllshire took to the princess that, within a year of her wedding, the 91st Argyllshire Highlanders changed their name and became known as the Princess Louise’s Argyllshire Highlanders. In contrast, when the queen went to stay with the Argylls at Inveraray Castle, she managed to offend everyone – despite Louise’s attempts at diplomacy. Victoria did so by peremptorily treating the Argylls’ home as though it was her own and the family as her servants.

  Louise’s in-laws may have taken her warmly into their family, but the cracks in her marriage were already apparent. Even at this early stage, the Marquess and Marchioness of Lorne spent very little time together. Henry Ponsonby commented that it was ‘absurd’ that Louise and Lorne barely ever ate dinner together.