CHAPTER 20
Scandal amongst the Campbells
In October I had a severe chill. I was confined to my room … I did not then see much of Lady Colin. On attending a political meeting at Killmun in Scotland, I got another chill, and was attended there by the local doctors. Lady Colin did not nurse me there. I was unwell when she left me.
Morning Post, reporting Lord Colin Campbell’s statements during the Campbell divorce case, 7 December 1886
It was not only the Fenians who had been angered by recent political decisions: in the mid-1880s many people in Britain were feeling let down by the government. The gap between the rich and poor showed few signs of narrowing and unemployment was frighteningly high. Following the miseries of a cold winter, poverty-stricken families were growing increasingly desperate. Although the signs of discontent should have been obvious, the police claimed they were ‘taken by surprise’ when the streets of central London exploded in riots. Following the first day of the riots, in February 1886, journalists reported, ‘The mob,… numbering about 5,000, held possession of the West End for fully two hours, and perpetrated acts of lawlessness almost unchecked … A wanton and vindictive spirit was displayed by the rioters … provisions were taken out of the shops and kicked into the streets.’ Three days later The Star reported, ‘The panic in London has subsided this morning, though an uneasy feeling continues to prevail. The shops are open as usual this morning. The troops and police are still kept in reserve in readiness for emergencies.’
The papers were also getting ready for the other big story: the upcoming Campbell divorce case – being fought by Lorne’s younger brother Colin and his wife Gertrude (known as Lady Colin). In 1886, London gossips and newspapers were whispering about every lurid detail.1 Was it true that Lady Colin had committed adultery with four lovers (a duke, a general, a doctor and the fire chief for London)? Or was Lord Colin attempting to blacken her name to cover up his own behaviour? Was it true that he had married despite knowing he had contracted an ‘unmentionable disease’, and that he had knowingly infected his wife with the result of his ‘bachelor indiscretions’?
That such a scandalous case had close contact with one of Queen Victoria’s children gave the gossips a field day. On 30 December 1886, Prince Arthur wrote a sympathetic letter to Louise: ‘How sorry I have been for you at all this disgraceful Colin divorce case, there has never been anything so bad before and I am amazed that the Duke, Lorne and all the family ever permitted the matter going before a public court. One is quite ashamed to talk about it and I should think that Colin will be unable to show his face for some time to come.’ Usually, it was Bertie and his notorious ‘Marlborough House Set’ whose name was in the gossip columns. Some years previously, Bertie had been questioned in court during the scandalous Mordaunt divorce case – in which he had been accused of committing adultery with Lady Mordaunt.2 Despite Bertie having been found innocent in court, the public was not convinced and the case continued to be whispered about later. Now, however, it was not one of Bertie’s indiscretions in the limelight; it was the turn of Louise, and especially her husband, to be embroiled – by association – in the unsavoury affairs of the divorce court.
Throughout 1886, the couple put on a public show of unity. They were, however, spending as little time together as they could. In the autumn of 1886, Louise returned to Aix-les-Bains. Everyone in Victorian England empathised with the curse of ill health, and the need for a ‘cure’. Louise also spent the first few months of 1887 travelling overseas, incognito, with her lady-in-waiting, Lady Sophia MacNamara. Lorne was with her only briefly. Louise visited Malta, Italy and the French Riviera, sailing on the royal yacht Surprise and on ‘her Majesty’s ironclad Alexandra, flagship of the Mediterranean Squadron’, a ship about which the papers wrote with great enthusiasm. Although Lorne was with his wife when she arrived in Malta, he is not mentioned in any of the later reports of her time there, even though articles that were based on official telegrams all state that he was with her at strategic points of the trip. As Louise was now 39 years old, the gossips were starting to abandon the hope that there would ever be an Argyll heir. Lorne’s nephew, Niall, was now recognised as the heir to the dukedom.
In Malta, Louise stayed with Alfred and Marie. Alfred had first visited Malta in the 1850s and 1860s (and it was there in 1867 that he had fallen into disgrace for a ‘sexual escapade’, the news of which reached the ears of Queen Victoria and caused as much furore in the royal household as Bertie’s affair with Nellie Clifden had done). As he was a serving naval officer, Alfred returned to Malta on several occasions. It had caused great excitement on the island when Marie gave birth to one of their children, Princess Victoria Melita, there.3 By the time of Louise’s visit, Alfred been appointed Commander-in-Chief of the Mediterranean Fleet and he and Marie were enjoying a thriving, if small, ‘court’ in Malta, although their marriage remained unhappy. Louise sympathised with her brother. Not only was she in an unhappy marriage herself, but she had never grown fond of her overbearing sister-in-law.
Malta had long prided itself on its royal and aristocratic associations, and when Disraeli had visited the island he had written, ‘society in Malta is very refined indeed for a colony’. Having a son of the queen living on the island was deemed a very great honour and Alfred was treated more like a king than a commander-in-chief. In January 1887, a grand ball was held to celebrate the anniversary of his wedding. In The Graphic’s commemorative issue the front-page illustration shows Alfred speaking to a man wearing a kilt. One can assume the kilted man (whose back is to the viewer) is intended to be Lorne; beside them Louise and Marie, dressed in the latest fashions, look on. Neither woman looks happy, both are pouting and they seem to be looking askance at their husbands. Inside the paper is a brief description of the ball; interestingly, although Louise is mentioned amongst the list of important attendees, Lorne’s name is absent from this and from the many other articles about the ball. A few weeks later, Louise celebrated her thirty-ninth birthday, for which Alfred arranged a special event. As the papers reported (again ignoring Lorne): ‘Malta has been even more than usually gay this winter. Balls, picnics, and parties of every description have abounded, on many of which Royalty has shed the lustre of its presence. A review of the troops and naval brigade was held in honour of the Princess Louise’s birthday … Considerable amusement was caused … [when] General Davis, who was in command of the troops, called for three cheers for Princess Beatrice instead of the Princess Louise. This little matter, however, was soon put right.’
After leaving Malta, Louise travelled on to Italy; once again a few – but not all – reports state that Lorne was with her. They visited Naples and reputedly stayed at the Hôtel Royal des Etrangers for a week. Louise also visited Rome, where she was inspired by the antiquities and art galleries. Her time in Rome provides an interesting insight into her relationship with Beatrice’s husband, Liko. Louise and Liko met up in Rome, purportedly by chance, although it seems likely they had arranged to meet there. Most of the family still disapproved of Liko, despite the fact that Beatrice was apparently very happy. Unfortunately, Beatrice’s cosseted and spoilt childhood still rankled with most of her siblings, particularly her brothers, who could not see that it was the queen who was to blame for favouring Beatrice, rather than Beatrice herself. Most of her siblings were jealous of their youngest sister and they distrusted her, nervous of her role as the queen’s confidante and, in some instances, the queen’s spy. As a result, unflattering letters about Liko continued to be sent between family members.
Most galling to some of Beatrice’s siblings was that the queen, so opposed to the match at the start, had been utterly won over by Liko; this felt especially bitter to Vicky, who did not approve of Liko’s ‘low’ family connections. The House of Battenberg was considered ‘not of the blood’ by Fritz and his family. Others pitied Liko condescendingly because his role as Beatrice’s husband meant he was forced to be so completely under the iron thumb of Queen Victo
ria.
Despite having no recognised children of her own, Louise was always adored by the children (and, later, by the grandchildren) of her siblings, several of whom described her as their ‘favourite aunt’. In April 1887, Prince George of Wales wrote a fond letter to Louise: ‘My darling Aunt Louise … I was dreadfully sorry to say goodbye to you the other day in Malta, but still the few days we spent together were better than none at all. I hope you had some fun after we left and went for some rides … I miss you very much, my dear, you are always so kind to me. We must look forward to our next meeting in June, which I am glad to say is not so very far off now.’ A letter from his older brother, Prince Eddy, addresses her as ‘Dearest Aunt Louise’ and ends with ‘your ever affectionate old nephew’. Throughout her life Louise had the enviable ability to get on with people of all ages, and children and young people especially loved her. Her siblings who had children of their own but often did not ‘understand’ their offspring envied her position as adored aunt, and Beatrice in particular often resented how much her children loved Louise.
Three weeks after Louise had left Malta, Prince George wrote to his ‘darling Aunt Louise’ again, telling her with amusement that one of Marie’s ladies-in-waiting, Lady Mary Fitzwilliam, had been shocked by the news that Louise had been ‘to Rome with Fortescue and Marsh [two officers under Arthur’s command], it amused me very much the way she said it, as much as to say that you ought not to have gone with them and that she did not like it’.
In May he wrote a reply to one of Louise’s letters, in which she had told him stories of her travels: she had told George that she had happened to be in Rome at the same time as Liko and that he had teased her about her clothes – Louise remained an artistic and unconventional dresser, pleased with her ability to defy the social expectations of how a princess should dress. George responded indignantly, as though Liko had hurt Louise’s feelings, ‘I’m very glad you spent a pleasant time in Rome … so Liko arrived before you left and began abusing your clothes, you certainly ought to have snubbed him and told him you had not so much money as Beatrice has to spend on your clothes, damn his impertinence, he has nothing else to do I suppose but look at people’s clothes, poor creature.’ The young prince did not pick up on the obvious fact that Liko and Louise felt comfortable enough with each other for him to tease her. Nor did George seem to realise that it was unlikely their meeting was a chance one – or perhaps, given the tone of his earlier letters, he was all too aware and jealous of Liko. From the start, Louise had been fascinated by Beatrice’s handsome husband, and he seems to have been equally willing to engage in a flirtation with his attractive sister-in-law. Whether they ever embarked on a full affair is something that has caused speculation ever since.
While Louise was in Malta and Italy, Alix was in need of her sympathetic sister-in-law. When Lorne’s mother had died, Beatrice had written to him that it was good he had Louise to take care of him as ‘she is so calm and full of feeling’. Alix would have appreciated some of that calming influence while the papers were poking fun at the mental health of her younger sister, who was pregnant while also suffering from post-natal depression (an illness unrecognised at the time). The Graphic published a supposedly concerned article, in which the desire to laugh at what the editor obviously found an amusing story is made explicit in the journalist’s final sentence:
The Duchess of Cumberland, youngest sister of the Princess of Wales, is seriously ill with melancholia, and is being treated at a private asylum in one of the Viennese suburbs … It is stated that she has suffered mentally, occasionally, since the birth of her last child … The Duchess’s illness being of a comparatively mild form, however, it is hoped that she will speedily recover. The Duke does not see her … The Duchess shows much interest in birds, especially pigeons.
Although the newspapers were ostensibly pro-royalty, such sniping articles, with their undertones of cruelty and the sting in the tail, were common – and they were exactly the kind of publicity that Louise was trying to avoid. She already knew how swiftly journalists would latch on to any signs of weakness in her marriage, and she was equally aware how much the journalists would love to link Lorne’s story to that of his brother’s sordid divorce. That the papers were so reluctant to write about what was obviously a bad marriage is testament to the fact that Louise was so popular with the newspaper-reading public. Had one of her sisters, married to foreign royalty, been experiencing similar marital problems, the newspapers would probably have been far less kind.
On leaving Rome, Louise travelled to Geneva before returning once again to Aix-les-Bains, where she joined the queen, Princess Beatrice and their royal entourage. She stayed for several days ensuring the court circulars would write about her being a dutiful daughter, taking carriage rides with her sister and mother or walking in the grounds of their villa with the ladies-in-waiting. Henry Ponsonby4 wrote to tell his wife that ‘charming’ Louise’s arrival had finally livened up the family’s ‘long, dreary evening parties’. Liko arrived a couple of days before Louise was due to depart. She was travelling back to England separately from the rest of her family. One newspaper commented on Lorne being absent from the party at Aix: ‘the Princess went on alone to join the Queen at Aix-les-Bains, where she stayed for six days … Lord Lorne was not invited to accompany his wife to Aix, possibly because his family are entirely out of favour at Court.’
Louise was back in England by the beginning of May 1887, fully refreshed in time for the rigours of the queen’s golden jubilee. For her mother’s birthday at the end of the month, Louise sent a silk shawl she had bought in Aix. She also sent a fan she had painted herself, asking her mother to excuse the lack of artistic merit as it was ‘my first attempt on gauze so it’s not very good’. For the jubilee, Louise, in common with all her siblings, had a vast number of public duties to attend to, either in lieu of the queen or by her mother’s side. Shortly before the jubilee a Canadian artist, Frederick Bell-Smith, had travelled to England to paint a portrait of the queen. He gave an interview about his experiences:
The sitting lasted a whole hour and the result was ‘a common little wooden panel a few inches long’. Mr Bell-Smith and the photographer were waiting for the Queen when in came the Princess Louise, who said ‘The Queen wants to know if she shall wear her bonnet?’ ‘Yes, please’ was the reply. Almost at once the Queen entered supporting herself with a heavy cane, and resting lightly on the arm of her Indian secretary. ‘I am sorry to have kept you waiting,’ said her Majesty, and bade the artist be seated. But there was no chair close at hand, so the Princess Louise was despatched to fetch one. It was, the artist found, very embarrassing, to ‘work close to the wrinkles’, especially as the Princess watched every stroke over his shoulder, but he was encouraged by such remarks as ‘It’s very like you, mamma, dear’. The Queen proved to be an excellent sitter, and at the end of an hour she rose, bowed to the painter and left the room.
During the jubilee, Louise and Lorne were ordered to put on a united front. In addition, Louise had an important sculpture to work on – she had been commissioned by the people of Kensington to sculpt a full-length statue of her mother, larger than life size, to commemorate the jubilee. In addition to her public appearances, she needed to devote a great deal of time to working in her studio. She worked on this tirelessly, and a Alfred Gilbert commented how frustrating it was that no matter how hard Louise worked, the public would always claim Boehm had done the work. Like all wealthy artists, she had studio assistants, but according to the contemporary art critic M.H. Spielmann, Louise ‘is the master and enforces her own ideas’. She worked on the sculpture in clay (maquettes were also produced in metal), perfecting every detail before the final marble sculpture could be produced.
Because it had been at Kensington Palace that the young Princess Victoria had heard of her uncle’s death and her accession to the throne, Louise chose to depict her mother as a nineteen-year-old seated on a throne and wearing her coronation robes. The statue is on a lar
ge stone plinth (the base is of buff-coloured stone and the pedestal of fashionable white Portland stone, to match the marble of the statue). A large bronze plaque proclaims that it is the work of Princess Louise. The young, slender queen in her flamboyant robes and jewels, carved from gleaming white marble was a world away from the elderly, black-clad widowed queen who unveiled it. Louise used paintings and illustrations of her mother’s coronation to help her design the statue. The statue was placed in Kensington Gardens within sight of the window of the room in which the young Victoria had slept.
Although the statue of her mother was commissioned for the 1887 jubilee, it was not completed and unveiled until 28 June 1893, on the anniversary of the queen’s coronation. In the princess’s opinion, the committee chosen to organise the event seemed determined to make it dull and formal, so Louise decided it would be vastly improved by the presence of children. She invited twenty-four girls and boys, representative, she said, not only of the queen’s own childhood in Kensington, but of the many local children who played in the gardens and would see the statue every day. So that the children would know what to do on the day, they had been invited into Princess Louise’s garden at Kensington Palace for rehearsals (and, no doubt, for cakes and sweets). The statue had been veiled with an enormous Union Flag, waiting to be revealed. When the unveining day arrived there was a band playing and large crowds came to witness the spectacle – all of whom were soaked when the heavens opened just as the queen’s carriage approached the park. One of the little girls chosen to attend was terrified by the sight of her forbidding monarch. For some reason she became convinced that she was going to be forced to go home and live with Queen Victoria and burst into noisy tears at the very idea of it.
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