Queen Victoria's Mysterious Daughter

by Lucinda Hawksley

  The party travelled by train to London’s Euston station, then went straight to Kensington Palace, which had been renovated during the five years of their absence. The Canadians did not forget the princess easily; the year after Louise had returned to England, Lake Louise was named after her and quickly became a popular tourist attraction. The princess’s memory began to be revered and in January 1884 there was a outcry when the special chair that had been built for her, alongside the usual Governor-General’s chair, was to be cut down for use as the Speaker’s chair. Newspaper articles expressed the nation’s fury at such ‘vandalism’. A reporter from the Ottawa Free Press went so far as to call it ‘desecration of the relic’, stating that the government should intervene as the people of Canada thought the chair should be placed in a museum.

  Louise had been excited to return to England, but 1884 was destined to be one of her most painful years and it would see an already strained marriage severely tested. The couple had grown used to being apart in Canada, an arrangement that suited them. Back in Britain, it was more difficult to manage this without exciting press attention. By the end of the year, their disagreements were obvious outside the marriage.

  Louise threw herself into life in London, embracing the new ‘Rational Dress’ movement and other social changes and advances, such as the International Health Exhibition which opened that year and caused great discussion of its vegetarian restaurant. When Louise had first talked of wanting to become a sculptor, her mother had warned her against spending time with artists because they mix ‘with all classes of society’ and should be considered ‘dangerous’. In that intoxicating world of artistic dangerousness Louise was more than happy to embroil herself once again.

  At the start of the year, Lorne was preparing to deliver a series of lectures about Canada, around the country. He had not returned to being an MP at once, as his brother Colin was still in his former seat; Colin, never a popular MP, was lampooned in the press and infuriated his constituents. In 1884, he would also become entangled in a sensational and scandalous court case, damaging his reputation and career even further.

  When Lorne chose to travel to the South of France to escape the end of the British winter, Louise decided not to go with him. By the end of March, Lorne was back in England and it fell to him to break the terrible news to his wife that Leopold had suffered a fatal accident. While visiting a club in Cannes, the prince had fallen and, despite its being a minor incident, it had proved fatal for a haemophiliac: Leopold had died within a few hours. He was only thirty years old at the time of his death and his wife Helen was pregnant. Bertie went to Cannes to bring his brother’s body home and broke down in tears in public as the casket was placed into the train carriage. Leopold’s funeral took place at St George’s Chapel in Windsor on 5 April – two days before what would have been his thirty-first birthday.

  Nothing in Louise’s life – not the death of her father nor that of Sybil St Albans – had been as terrible as the death of Leopold, the brother she had always adored and who had given her nothing but adulation and love. She wrote to Lord Tennyson a distraught letter in which she called Leopold ‘the joy and object’ of her life. To Lorne’s sympathetic Aunt Dot, she described their relationship: ‘we were to each other … the dearest friend we each had’. Nearly four months after Leopold’s death, Lord Ronnie Gower went for lunch at Kensington Palace and was alarmed by Louise’s depression. Lorne had no idea how to help her, other than to warn Ronnie not to mention Leopold’s name.

  That Lorne had no comfort to offer his wife emphasises how stagnant the marriage had become. The queen wrote to Vicky about how unhappy Louise and Lorne were; Louise had told her mother that she wanted a separation, but the queen refused to sanction this. In her letter to Vicky she mentioned Louise’s ‘perfect aversion’ to Lorne and that she was ‘bent on separating from him. This dare not be for we cannot have a Scandal in the family!’ Louise blamed her mother, writing to her in 1884: ‘It was yr wish for two years, that I shd marry Lorne, & because I saw how much it bothered & worried you, that I said I wd see him again. You asked me to choose between him & another, all I answered was that I thought Lorne was the best of those two, if you remember.’

  In August of 1884, the same month in which the queen wrote to Vicky, the New York Times published a short article about the marriage: ‘The continued separation of Lord Lorne and the Princess Louise is again attracting comment. The Princess left England yesterday to spend the Autumn in Germany. Lord Lorne is yachting with his father and mother in the Hebrides.’

  In September, Louise travelled to the Tyrol to stay with her eldest sister, who was holidaying there. Some reports claim she and Lorne travelled there together, but in newspaper reports of the time, Lorne’s name is conspicuously absent. The queen wrote to tell Vicky it was good that Louise was able to see her sister, who could try and cheer her up; the queen also commented that she believed Louise and Lorne would never live together again and they must do their best to make it as unremarked upon as possible. Louise was reported to have travelled on the mail steamer with Count Gleichen (Queen Victoria’s half-nephew) and his daughter. When the sisters met, Vicky was extremely worried about Louise and reported back to her mother how depressed and unwell she seemed to be. In November, the queen commented: ‘Louise’s aversion [to Lorne] will be permanent.’

  The couple did not separate, but their marriage was being exposed as a sham; all the early newspaper reports of the couple having been so in love were starting to look rather foolish. In Canada, Louise had needed Lorne. Now she no longer had to keep up the pretence of being the perfect wife and was as desperate to live alone as when she had been trapped in Buckingham Palace as her mother’s companion-secretary. Even the queen seems to have been on her daughter’s side, although sorry for Lorne, writing that he ‘is totally unsuited to her, very unsoigné, not overfond of soap and water, all of which is very uncongenial to her. He bears her open dislike wonderfully well in public.’ That Lorne was an eccentric comes across in the memoirs of family members and friends, who joked about his lack of understanding about what clothes should be worn at which occasions and of inappropriate behaviour, such as refusing to receive honoured guests, most notably – as Elizabeth Longford relates – snubbing the German Emperor, who wanted to bestow upon Lorne the Order of the Black Eagle. Lorne insisted that he did not have time to meet the Emperor as he wanted to have a bath. Many such stories were circulated. As, towards the end of his life, he would begin to suffer from what is believed to have been Alzheimer’s or a similar condition, it is possible that he was starting to suffer from dementia earlier than was realised. A sweet and witty letter he wrote to Louise survives from August 1898 while Lorne was on holiday in France with Lord Ronald Gower and their friend Frank Hird (who was Gower’s lover): ‘Hird is bathing in the Loire. Ronald and I have had a tub each in our rooms – and I write with nothing on! Clothes are altogether a mistake. I anoint myself with eau de cologne after bathing and remain horizontal till dinner.’

  A now-legendary story exists about the state of Louise and Lorne’s marriage. Reputedly when they were living at Kensington Palace, Louise became so infuriated by her husband sneaking out at night to try and meet sexual partners, usually soldiers, loitering in the park that she ordered the French windows in their apartments to be bricked up. I was unable to verify this – although I learnt from the staff at Kensington Palace another story which seems to lend credence to the rumour. In the mid twentieth century, Princess Margaret was given the apartments that had formerly belonged to Louise and Lorne. She tried to research the story of the bricked-up window, according to one staff member at the palace; but even Princess Margaret wasn’t able to access the records. Elizabeth Longford, who did have access to the Royal Archives, mentions the story in her book and states that Princess Margaret was told ‘it had been done on the orders of Princess Louise to keep her husband inside’.

  The absence of Leopold was felt very keenly as Louise tried to adjust to being back
in England, forced to live closely with her husband and once more under the watchful eye of her mother. She missed her brother and confidant desperately. While Louise was deeply miserable, Princess Beatrice seemed finally on her way to happiness. Despite her mother having thwarted all other attempts at a romance, in 1884 Beatrice met Prince Henry of Battenberg, known as ‘Liko’. He was very good looking and amusing – and although everyone knew the queen would never allow her youngest daughter to fly the nest, Liko was willing to marry her.

  CHAPTER 19

  Keeping up appearances

  But their aim, and their claim, which are one and the same,

  Are founded in falsehoods of sand, you know.

  The Campbells are cunning, oho, oho …

  Lines from an anonymous poem criticising Lord Colin Campbell, MP

  Lorne’s tenure as Governor-General had been such a success that in 1885 he was suggested as the new Governor of New South Wales in Australia. Louise refused to go. So, instead, Lorne returned to British politics, but, following the travesty of his brother Colin’s time as MP for Argyll, the Campbells were no longer welcome as MPs in their local constituency. The disappointment of Colin’s tenure had led formerly loyal constituents to start parodying him, singing a cynical version of the proud song ‘The Campbells Are Coming’ as ‘The Campbells Are Cunning’.

  Knowing he would be thwarted in Scotland, Lorne stood as the Liberal candidate for Hampstead, in London; but the Liberal Party was out of favour and Lorne was defeated by his Conservative opponent, Sir Henry Holland, by almost 900 votes. Lorne felt keenly the vast gulf between his life in Canada and his life back in Britain, once again in the shadow of his wife’s mother.

  The queen was battling her own demons. Having initially been furious that Beatrice could even think of marrying, she had brokered an agreement whereby Beatrice and Liko promised to live near her. Having persuaded herself that Beatrice’s marriage would be acceptable, the queen had not anticipated opposition from the rest of the family. Beatrice’s marriage brought out political prejudices from all sides, not least from Vicky and the queen’s Prussian relations – Liko was from the House of Battenberg,1 which Fritz’s family thought far too inferior to be allied to by marriage. Added to Vicky’s angry snobbery was the reaction of the British people – they were not amused at the idea of yet another member of their royal family marrying a foreigner. It was a difficult time politically. As Beatrice’s wedding approached, the situation in the country was becoming increasingly fevered.

  The issue dividing the House of Commons and the House of Lords was that of Home Rule for Ireland; the ‘Fenian problem’ was becoming ever more serious, marking the beginning of a new terror campaign in London. In 1883, Fenian terrorists had bombed the underground train tunnel between Charing Cross and Westminster stations; in 1884 they had caused great embarrassment to the police by the successful bombing of Scotland Yard; now they stepped up the campaign. On 20 January 1885, a Fenian bomb exploded on a train at Gower Street tube station.2 Just days later, two bombs were detonated at the Houses of Parliament, as well as one at London Bridge and one at the Tower of London (where the bomber was actually witnessed lighting the fuse. He and his accomplice were arrested and later convicted). Early newspaper reports erroneously suggested the bombs had been left by women, who had concealed them under their voluminous skirts. People were living in fear, angry with the government’s perceived inability to keep them safe.

  The situation was exacerbated by the news of a tragedy overseas: the war hero General Gordon had been murdered in Khartoum. The general had gone to the Sudan to help the Egyptian forces, who were under siege from Sudanese rebels led by Muhammad Ahmed (known as the Mahdi). Gordon had requested urgent reinforcements, but the government and military commanders had been slow to react. He was killed two days before reinforcements arrived, when the rebels broke into the besieged city. When the vivid reports of his death reached Britain the public reacted with fury against the government. Although later historians have blamed Gordon for not getting out of the city, at the time of his death he was seen as a martyr.

  *

  Beatrice and Liko’s wedding took place on 23 July 1885, but it was far less formal than her sisters’ weddings and, due to the political situation at the time, was a somewhat muted affair. They were married at St Mildred’s Church on the Isle of Wight, where a troop of soldiers from Princess Louise’s Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders formed a guard of honour for the couple. Shortly after the wedding, the London correspondent for the New York Times wrote an article about the unsuitability of the match and how ‘dreadful’ Prince Henry of Battenberg was rumoured to be, hinting at having spoken to ‘those in the know’. The underlying reason for people believing the marriage to be doomed was that Liko was considered extremely good looking and Beatrice was not. The general consensus was that Liko was bound to stray and would not remain happy for long tethered to the queen’s apron strings, as was expected of Beatrice’s husband.

  Knowing that the queen was initially against the match, Liko had used his charm to win her over to his side. The queen’s comment in a letter to the disapproving Vicky is revealing about Liko’s and Beatrice’s relationship ‘[Liko] is so modest, so full of consideration for me and so is she, and both are quietly and really sensibly happy. There is no kissing, etc. (which Beatrice dislikes).’ An article in the London Truth, which was picked up by the American papers, gave an unflattering account of the wedding and the royal family:

  Princess Louise looked well, but she has a very flighty manner. Lord Lorne has something of his sire’s bantam-like air. He was in tartans, but certainly looked very common … The Prince of Wales … seemed ill at ease and out of sorts, and so also did the Queen, who looked exceedingly cross and who was dressed, as she always is … in black satin with a white tulle cap and veil … [The bridesmaids] looked very pleasing and simple, but there was a decided lack of beauty among the group.

  The word ‘flighty’ was one that was often applied to Louise. (In 1880, a Canadian politician had noted, ‘Lord Lorne seems to be tolerably happy in the absence of his flighty spouse.’)

  While Lorne was attempting to resurrect his political career, Louise forged ahead with her charity work and accepted the presidency of the Society for Home Education. The one aspect of their marriage that was always strong was their desire to make Britain a more egalitarian place, and in their shared belief of the need for better education for all. The Society homed in on the ‘need which was felt to exist for an improved method of teaching the children of the upper classes, or those taught at home’ and to elevate their home schooling to the level of that given to boys at fee-paying schools. The bill was aimed specifically at girls, since sons of the upper classes (unless in delicate health) were taught at school. Louise wanted sisters to be given the same educational rights as their brothers. In addition, she continued to work with the Girls’ Public Day School Trust and the Ragged Schools’ Association. In the same year, Louise raised funds for Canadian troops, and money to send medics out to Canada to aid in the war between the new settlers and the first nations. She was also involved in fund-raising for wounded British troops fighting in the Sudan. In the summer, she laid the foundation stone for the new wing at the Victoria Hospital for Children, on Tite Street in Chelsea.3 In this project she was not merely acting as a figurehead; after visiting the hospital she had realised the necessity for a new wing, so had lobbied for it to be built and helped to raise both awareness and funds. The laying of the foundation stone was the culmination of an achievement Louise could deservedly be proud of. She also made the newspapers for reports of bravery, following a carriage accident in London’s Covent Garden. When another carriage ran into Louise’s vehicle, the newspapers reported, ‘The horses became restive, and knocked down and injured two bystanders. The Princess remained perfectly cool, and escaped unhurt.’

  In reponse to the many rumours about their marriage, Louise and Lorne made a number of high-profile public appearances. They
were seen together at a grand party thrown by the composer Arthur Sullivan, at an amateur performance of As You Like It in the grounds of Archie Campbell’s home in Surrey, at an artists’ ball and at numerous society events. Whilst giving the appearance of being united in public, they were leading increasingly separate lives. Louise was spending as much time as possible with her artistic friends. She enjoyed Whistler’s parody, in 1885, of the speech made by Royal Academician J.C. Horsley, who took a stand over what he saw as the obscene use of nude models. (Punch gave him the nickname ‘Clothes Horsley’.) Another artist with whom Louise became friendly was Edward Burne-Jones. Undated letters from the painter to Louise survive, in which he mentions her visiting his studio and his sending drawings or paintings to her at Louise’s request. Following the artist’s death (in 1898), his devoted wife, Georgiana, wrote to Louise thanking her for her kindness and friendship: ‘You knew something of him and what he was to those who lived near him. But I still thank God that no infirmity fell upon him, body or mind, and that before he left us he had done so splendid a day’s work.’

  Despite the sham that their marriage was in the mid-1880s, the fiction that Louise and Lorne’s marriage was a love match was being rekindled, in response to public disappointment in Beatrice’s marriage. The papers were thrilled by a perceived romantic reunion in the summer of 1885 when Louise returned to London by train from Balmoral and Lorne met her at the station. The wording of the article in every paper is exactly the same, suggesting that the source of the story was an official news bulletin. The story neatly avoids any mention of the fact that Louise had gone to Balmoral alone. By the autumn, however, the papers had got hold of the story that she was to travel incognito overseas without Lorne, returning to the spas at Aix-les-Bains (where she met old friends and made new ones, including Anny Thackeray, the novelist daughter of William Thackeray). Once again, there was speculation about their lack of children and queries as to whether it would be possible for a woman in her late thirties to conceive for the first time. In contrast, Beatrice’s marriage cannot have been as sexually passionless as her mother would have liked to believe, as just four months into her marriage, Beatrice suffered a miscarriage.