Prince Leopold, the younger brother of the Prince of Wales, was already one of Lillie’s greatest fans. The first of Queen Victoria’s sons to respond to Lillie’s appeal, Prince Leopold had purchased Frank Miles’s sketch of her and hung it above his bed at Buckingham Palace.42 Queen Victoria did not approve. “I was told she then and there took it down,” Lillie wrote, “standing on a chair to do so.”43 This attitude did nothing to deter young Leopold, who soon became one of Lillie’s gentlemen callers, visiting the Langtrys’ home in Eaton Place. This development could not have pleased Ned Langtry, but he had little choice in the matter. As a social climber of Alpine proportions, Lillie would have scarcely refused the attentions of the young prince. In return for stepping back, Ned accompanied Lillie when she was invited to sail on Prince Leopold’s yacht. Perhaps this proved some compensation for Ned, who must have missed his sailing. Visits to the yacht were limited to the occasions when it was moored in Cowes, on the Isle of Wight, as the queen kept Leopold on a short rein. Indeed, Queen Victoria’s disapproval of Lillie was so great that the Langtrys were obliged to hide belowdecks “until we got out of range of the Osborne House telescopes.”44
Lillie’s friendship with Prince Leopold would, one would think, have been sufficient to guarantee an introduction to the Prince of Wales. What better way for Lillie to showcase herself than flushed with excitement, drenched to the skin by sea spray as she reveled in the elements on Prince Leopold’s yacht? But there was a strict protocol to these matters, and so it fell to Sir Allen Young, the explorer, to effect an introduction between Bertie and the latest beauty, just two months after Lillie had made her debut in London society.
Sir Allen, known to his friends as “Alleno,” was a wealthy bachelor who had devoted much of his time and money attempting to find the remains of Captain Sir John Franklin, an arctic explorer who had set out to navigate the Northwest Passage in 1845 and never returned. Lillie found Sir Allen to be “a fidgety creature, already in the forties,” with the faraway gaze and monosyllabic speech of the explorer.45 But despite his lack of small talk, Sir Allen was a loyal and considerate host, and so an invitation to dine at his home, Stratford House, was something of a coup. Even so, Lillie and Ned, along with eight other guests, were somewhat surprised when dinner was delayed and they were asked to remain in the drawing room. Who could they be waiting for? Lillie wondered.
And then came a flurry of activity, followed by an expectant hush, and Sir Allen made a swift exit to deal with the slight commotion outside. After a moment or two, Lillie heard a deep, cheerful voice saying, “I am afraid I am a little late,” and looked up to see the Prince of Wales, “whose face had been previously unfamiliar to me except through photographs,” appear at the doorway and walk into the room.46
Bertie had clearly come from a previous function, and glittered importantly, with medals and the blue ribbon of the Garter over his white tie and tails. At thirty-six, Bertie was still handsome in a substantial, Victorian fashion, slightly overweight but not yet defined by the heavy jowls and obesity that would characterize his middle age. With a twinkle in his blue eyes and undoubted charisma, Bertie became the focus of every eye in the room. The women in particular pressed forward to curtesy to him, while their husbands bowed in a resigned fashion, aware that if Bertie hadn’t already slept with their wives, it was only a matter of time. Bertie observed these social niceties and then he turned his attention to the only newcomers in the room: Mr. and Mrs. Edward Langtry.
Chapter Nine
THE REAL PRINCE CHARMING
I had gone from being an absolute “nobody” to what the Scotch so aptly describe as a “person.”
—LILLIE LANGTRY
Lillie Langtry later admitted that meeting the Prince of Wales for the first time had filled her with utter terror. “I was panic-stricken, and for one bewildered moment really considered the advisability of climbing the chimney to escape.”1 But the resilient Mrs. Langtry held her nerve, stood her ground, and made her curtsey, confessing that “for various reasons I greatly enjoyed watching my husband go rather stammeringly through a similar ordeal.”2 Sir Allen had arranged that Lillie would be seated next to Bertie at dinner, but Lillie was so overcome by the royal presence that she could only respond to the prince’s inquiries with monosyllables, finding him good-natured but slightly aloof. While he complimented the servants and obviously worked hard to make the evening enjoyable, “it would have been a brave man who, even at this little intime supper-party attempted a familiarity with him.”3 Some years later, Lillie told the actor Alfred Lunt that she had always been a little afraid of Bertie, and that “he always smelt so very strongly of cigars.”4 Given Lillie’s physical courage and strong personality, this was an unusual confession. Perhaps Lillie realized, even at that first meeting, that this was one man she must keep on the right side of.
Within weeks of this introduction, Lillie became Bertie’s mistress. Although Lillie’s memoirs do not reveal exactly how the affair began, Bertie had a fixed modus operandi when it came to married women. At some point in the proceedings, perhaps on the very night that they were introduced, Bertie would have asked Lillie discreetly whether he could call on her at home one afternoon. The meaning of this would have been clear to Lillie: she had, after all, entertained a number of admirers in this fashion, including Bertie’s younger brother, Prince Leopold. On the rare occasion that a young woman resisted Bertie’s advances, he would retreat graciously and never trouble her again. Once Lillie had consented to Bertie’s request, the gentle inquiry would be followed up with a letter, hand-delivered by a royal footman, asking if the prince could call upon a specific afternoon.
Bertie’s reputation preceded him and there was a royal protocol to his afternoon visits. When the Prince of Wales came to call, the master of the house was required to make himself scarce. Just as with every other aspect of social intercourse, there was a fixed code of practice regarding adultery if the man in question was the Prince of Wales. In a typically English fashion, this sanctioned cuckoldry revolved around the golden hour of teatime. Long before the discreet royal carriage appeared at the door, the gentleman of the house would have taken himself off to his Pall Mall club, where he would remain until dinner, when it was safe to return home. Or the gentleman in question might very well have gone to visit a mistress of his own. Among the upper classes it was not unusual for a wealthy man to support two households, one for his wife and family and a separate establishment for his mistress. Poor Ned Langtry, being something of a social outcast, had no club to retire to. Instead, he had the choice of spending the afternoon in a public house or walking the streets until their royal visitor had left. Whatever his belief in allowing his wife to do her patriotic duty by sleeping with their future king, Ned must have been appalled by the prospect of Lillie betraying him with Bertie.
Once the tea tray had been taken in to the drawing room, the parlor maid, trying not to stare at Bertie, would withdraw, leaving Lillie alone with the royal visitor. As Lillie hated corsets, she was doubtless already prepared for the occasion, in her loose black dress or a long, floating tea gown. More formal dress presented formidable obstacles to sexual congress: all those layers of corsets and petticoats, elaborate coiffures and jewelry. As one commentator said, seduction in day dress seemed like “an enterprise which would have to be organised like a household furniture removal.”5
We shall never know whether their mutual captivation was consummated on Bertie’s first visit, or the second, or the third. But as Bertie was a fast worker and Lillie was already notorious for her habit of swooning into the arms of a gentleman caller, it is fair to assume that the relationship was established quickly. Lillie was so determined to make her way in society that it is entirely likely she initiated full sex then and there, in the drawing room of Eaton Place, as her landlady and the maid waited expectantly in the basement kitchen, ears cocked for the hurly-burly of the chaise longue or the collateral damage of a smashed teacup.
If Lillie had held o
ut for something more romantic than a quickie on the sofa, she and Bertie would have spent their first night together in the congenial surroundings of a stately home, at a safe distance from Princess Alexandra, who loathed weekending and refused all invitations.6 Lillie and Bertie’s amorous pursuits would have passed without comment in the round of aristocratic wife swapping that characterized country house weekends. But one factor swiftly became evident: Bertie was completely smitten with Lillie and she was more than just another affair. Previously discreet, Bertie was soon parading Lillie in public as his first official mistress. And, given their shared love of horses, what better place to show off this marvelous young filly than riding along Rotten Row in Hyde Park?
Lillie owned a beautiful chestnut gelding called Redskin, presented to her by a young admirer named Morton Frewen before he departed for America. Redskin came with a wonderful testimonial saying that he had “the nuances and devotion of your favourite dog.”7 The horse, or possibly Lillie, was later described by Margot Asquith, who as a child watched Lillie out riding, as “a chestnut thoroughbred of conspicuous action.”8
For Lillie, riding along Rotten Row with the Prince of Wales meant her wildest dreams had come true. Here she was, the dean’s daughter from Jersey, poised on her high-stepping chestnut, next to the heir to the British throne. Lillie cut a magnificent figure in her beautifully cut, skin-tight riding habit, while Bertie, despite his increasing weight, was still a keen rider, and the red browbands of the Prince of Wales and his equerries never failed to create a commotion on the Row.9 In the mornings, Bertie rode out with “the Liver Brigade,” a cohort intent on “shaking up” their sluggish livers with a spot of vigorous trotting, including Sir Allen Young, Christopher Sykes, and the mischievous Beresford brothers. Accompanying these luminaries were the royal equerries, and officers from the Prince of Wales’s regiments, the “Blues,” the Royal Horse Guards, and the “Royals,” the 10th Royal Hussars. Magnificent in its way, Bertie’s appearance was reminiscent of the royal progresses of his ancestors, who themselves had once ridden through London, to the general awe of their subjects.
Bertie also liked to ride through the Park late in the afternoons, between lunch and dinner engagements. The closest Lillie came to acknowledging the significance of their relationship is this story:
The latter hour [seven o’clock in the evening] caused dinner to be a very late meal, seldom commencing before nine o’clock. I remember that, on one occasion, when riding with the Prince, it was past that hour when I left the Row, as etiquette demanded that I should ride on so long as His Royal Highness elected to do so. Mr Langtry and I were, as usual, dining out, and when I arrived home I found him impatiently waiting on the doorstep, watch in hand, and in all the paraphernalia of evening dress. After a scrambling toilette we eventually arrived at the Clark-Thornhills’, in Eaton Square, where we were due, to find it nearly ten o’clock. Everyone was waiting, of course, but before I could apologise, my hostess greeted me pleasantly, saying: “Sir Claude Champion de Crespigny on his way here saw you riding in the Park, and, as we knew you couldn’t get away, we postponed dinner indefinitely.” After the very natural grumbling of my husband, these words served as balm to any troubled soul. It is so difficult to please everyone.10
Lillie pleased the prince, and that was all that mattered. In the giddy weeks that followed, Lillie began to appear in public with Bertie and realized that she had at last entered the world for which she had been intended. It soon became evident to any hostess that she could not invite the Prince of Wales without inviting Lillie. “There was nothing clandestine about their affair. Lillie became an openly acknowledged and apparently permanent feature of the Prince’s life. She became, in short, his first official mistress.”11
Now Lillie had Bertie, and London, at her feet. But there was another aspect to her conquest, and one that would, over the coming months, become unendurable. Lillie was famous. The simple country girl with a tragic past, dressed in a plain black gown, had become public property, a state for which she was not fully prepared. From the satisfying experience of being celebrated within the safe confines of London society, where the most alarming thing that could happen to her was the fellow guests at a reception standing on chairs to get a better view, Lillie was now experiencing the reality of life as a celebrity.
Thanks to the artists and photographers who had circulated her image around the country, Lillie was forced to forgo the simple amusements of the past. She could not pop out to a shop without drawing a crowd and having to leave through the back door. If she attempted to go for a quiet walk in Hyde Park, she was stalked and swiftly surrounded by adoring fans. When she took Redskin out for a canter on Rotten Row, Lillie had to ensure that the stable gates were closed before she mounted her horse, so that the crowds could not surge in and block her way. When a young girl bearing a slight resemblance to Lillie was spotted in the Park, there was such a stampede that she was almost crushed to death and had to be taken away in an ambulance.12
“It is easy to imagine the marvel of it all to a country girl like me, who had not been allowed by my band of brothers to think much of myself in any way.”13 Lillie had changed, in the course of a few weeks, “from being an absolute ‘nobody’ to what the Scotch so aptly describe as a ‘person.’14 “Surely,” Lillie concluded, “London has gone mad.”15
There was one other “person” who had become distinctly troubled by Lillie’s transformation. While Lillie was prepared to sacrifice her privacy and her reputation in order to promote her social ambitions, the same was not true of Ned Langtry. According to Lillie, her husband had grown increasingly more irritated by Lillie’s status as a “species of phenomenon” to the extent that he was “sometimes losing his temper and blaming me!”16 Ned’s temper would continue to deteriorate, along with his behavior, on an exponential level as Lillie’s fame increased.
But as far as Lillie was concerned, she had arrived. She had only to fasten her hair in a loose knot at the base of her neck for the style to be dubbed the “Langtry.”17 When she twisted a band of black velvet around her head and secured it in place with a feather for an afternoon’s racing at Sandown Park, milliners swiftly copied the look and marketed it as “the Langtry Hat.”18 So famous, indeed, had Lillie become that she began to dispense with her original persona and change her distinctive appearance.
In June 1877, Lillie was invited to “a magnificent ball given at Dudley House for some visiting royalty.”19 Lady Dudley had tactfully requested Lillie to discard her mourning for the evening, as Lord Dudley hated black, to the extent of banning his wife from wearing it, “so strangely that he could not bear the idea of anyone appearing at his house in that sombre hue.”20 Lillie tells us that the poverty of her wardrobe was not only the result of her own lack of funds and her dislike of the fitting process but “my absolute indifference at the time to elaborate frocks.”21 This, like everything else about Lillie, was soon to change. Deciding that the Dudley House ball was important enough to undergo the ordeal, Lillie commissioned “a fashionable London dressmaker,”22 Mrs. Stratton, to create a “white velvet gown, severely cut, embroidered with pearls.”23 The gown and its wearer caused a sensation. As Lillie entered the ballroom, the other dancers stopped dead and crowded around her, and then parted like the waves of the Red Sea as she proceeded toward her hostess.24 And the fantastic white velvet gown did not cost Lillie a penny. Lillie had become so famous that Mrs. Stratton offered unlimited credit, knowing that Lillie would serve as a great advertisement for her skills. This gesture, welcomed at the time, heralded the beginning of a line of credit that would almost destroy Lillie.
Lillie remained Bertie’s close companion until the end of the season, which concluded in London with a magnificent ball at Marlborough House, such a significant event that no other hostess in London would dare to throw a party the same night. The following Monday, Lillie and Ned accompanied the Prince of Wales to Goodwood, for the most fashionable race meeting of the season, and joined Bertie at an
exclusive house party thrown by Lord Ferdinand Rothschild, who had rented a house near the course. As soon as Goodwood was over, it was off to the Royal Yacht Squadron on the Isle of Wight for Cowes Week. But this was the last engagement of the season, and it was here that Lillie and Bertie must part. For even Bertie could not overthrow royal protocol and delay his visit to the royal family’s Scottish retreat at Balmoral, where Queen Victoria demanded his presence. Lillie must have been grateful that she had a standing invitation to go and stay with Frances “Daisy” Maynard at Easton Lodge, the family estate in Essex. Daisy remembered the visit with pleasure.
“Soon we had the most beautiful woman of the day down at Easton, and my sisters and myself were all her admiring slaves. We taught her to ride on a fat cob, we bought hats at the only milliner’s shop in the country town of Dunmow, and trimmed them for our idol, and my own infatuation, for it was a little less, for lovely Lillie Langtry, continued for many a day.”25 No doubt for her own reasons, Lillie concealed her riding skills from Daisy, who was her equal as a horsewoman. But Lillie clearly enjoyed the time she spent at Easton, saying that the visit stood out in her memory, and “I think I felt more at home there than anywhere else, galloping about the park with their nice daughters, and enjoying myself thoroughly.”26
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