Churchill's Grandmama

by Margaret E. Forster

  Such was Frances’ and Harry’s introduction to European winters and the questionable delights of diplomatic life. The end of this letter, however, sees the natural resilience reasserting itself: their mother looks forward to being settled again in England and itemises the furniture which Charles had collected in Italy – the fine bed, armoires and commodes of buhl, vases without end, marble tables, alabasters, statues, candelabras and loads of plate, linen, wine and china.

  There were other incidents occurring around Frances and Harry at this time, one of which was to cause international scandal. Their mother had first met Tsar Alexander I in 1820 when she was considerably pregnant with Harry. Now, two years later, she had two small children, Harry and Frances, and the Tsar was to make much of both. He arrived in Vienna in mid-September on his way to the Congress of Verona and immediately sent word that he would call on the Londonderrys that same afternoon. Why this visit was so precipitate can only be the subject of conjecture. He arrived alone and spent two hours with Charles, Frances Anne and the children. Such attention was unusual and of course noticeable. A week later he came to dinner, attended by several of his staff, when Frances Anne was the only woman present, a daring thing for her to do. A few days later he wrote to her, in French, which was the language they conversed in, thanking her for the gift of a briefcase which he had admired at their home. His last visit in Vienna took place while Charles was away attending an official dinner. She writes in her Journal:

  He sat with me above two hours. He certainly is a very fine-looking man if not positively handsome, his countenance remarkably pleasing, his manners at all times affable and agreeable, when he addresses a woman captivating, his conversation perfectly beautiful … During this interview we had a long explanation, and he gave me to understand the extent of his feelings of attachment for me and the strong impression I had made upon him.’2

  There is considerable emotion here and it is tempting to believe what the rest of Vienna believed. He looked forward to meeting her again in Verona, and when he did, his visits were of great comfort among the miseries of the house she was occupying. He told her the strange story of her portrait which had so impressed him and how he had never felt drawn to any other woman. In the meantime, she writes that Charles was deep in gloom, which for some reason made her ‘very uncomfortable’. Did he sense his wife’s infatuation and was troubled? Had the gossip reached him?

  Frances Anne’s days were otherwise filled with social activity, involving the Emperor and Empress of Austria, the Duke of Wellington and other diplomatic personnel. Rumour was rife that she was now the Tsar’s mistress, and certainly if they had followed the custom of the day she would have been. It is certainly true that the situation was watched by the Austrian secret police, but it is not known precisely why. Anita Leslie, in her book Edwardians in Love, records that Frances Anne received gifts of jewellery (now in the Victoria and Albert Museum) from the Tsar, which were added to the Londonderry collection. In Frances Anne’s Journal, however, she gives her own very intimate and revealing description of the deep feelings that lay between them when she describes their final separation. So frankly does she reveal their emotion that, not surprisingly, the Journal remained private for years after her death, and was only published by Edith, 7th Marchioness of Londonderry, approximately three generations later.

  Frances Anne’s account of their parting is so raw in passion and so complete in her grief that it still moves the reader deeply today almost two hundred years after the event. Very poignantly and convincingly she conveys the deep emotion and uncontrollable grief that consumed them both. She describes how, when Alexander came to bid her farewell, he found her in a deep depression and spoke to her with a tenderness that became melancholy. He assured her of his love, maintaining that ‘while life shall last’ her image should rest in his heart. Neither could bear the parting: ‘my agitation quite unmanned him’, reducing him to tears. Neither could control feelings and, after trying twice to leave, the Tsar ‘once more strained me to his breast’ before rushing out of the room. Frances Anne describes herself as ‘stupefied by grief’, her remembrance of the scene being ‘like a faded dream’.

  Her description of a consuming love that cannot rest but must be released by some action or demonstration is psychologically very true to life. She needs to find some kind of release for her feelings and she finds it by pouring them out in writing her Journal. ‘In truth I loved him,’ she writes quite bluntly, without restraint, and confesses herself completely taken over by an overpowering feeling. She cannot believe that she is loved by such a man in whom she finds perfection in every way that would ‘captivate the heart’. Neither could he contain his love for her. She recalls intensely his being ‘at my feet, kneeling before me’ and ‘covering my hands with kisses’. Frances Anne describes how for long after this parting she remained depressed, felt as if her emotions were frozen and was consumed by a terrible lassitude.

  After reading this unrestrained and compelling account of this scene, it comes as a surprise to read her final words: that she could only rejoice and wonder that they came out of the ordeal innocent of grief. So it seems their relationship was purely platonic! But can this final remark be accepted with certainty? On the face of it, an affair seems to have been unlikely. Both Frances Anne and Alexander were married and he in particular was renowned for his austere and ascetic character. Both were high-ranking and public figures; to keep such an affair private would have been very difficult and Frances Anne categorically makes the nature of the relationship clear at the end of her account. Yet, from the depth of passion and the physical demonstration of it that Frances Anne describes, it is not too difficult to entertain at least the possibility of a sexual fulfilment.

  It is impossible to know the truth. Clearly, however, the Austrian secret police were aware of the relationship; they kept the couple under surveillance and, according to the custom and mores of the day, few eyebrows would have been raised anyway, always with the proviso, of course, that nothing became public. Yet Frances Anne makes it clear very forcibly at the end of her account that there was no sexual relationship. Supporting this is the fact that she has just given such a vivid account of her feelings in a document which, although private, she did not destroy but left for posterity. Would she have done this if her behaviour had been seriously questionable? Or is this a final subtlety, an escape clause to disguise the truth?

  There is one last detail. In her account of their parting, Frances Anne describes how she became so uncontrollably agitated that Alexander implored her to be calm and ‘consider the wickedness of endangering the infant within my bosom for I was above two months with child’. The baby girl, born some seven months later, was baptised Alexandrina and the Tsar became her godfather.

  And so the infant Frances and her elder brother Harry not only crossed the Alps in winter, a hazard at any time but in their early childhood doubly so, but were then some kind of party or witness to these dramatic scenes and the inevitable tensions that followed. At the end of her account of this episode in her Journal, Frances Anne’s husband Charles emerges as a man commanding respect. Whatever suspicions he had, despite the depression, gloom and feverishness that followed, he remained unfailingly caring, never voicing any criticism: on the contrary, she insists, his kindness was unwearied and his attentions unremitting.

  Notes

  1. Letter from Frances Anne to her mother, Countess of Antrim, 27 October 1822, cited by Edith Londonderry, p.91.

  2. Journal of Frances Anne, cited by Edith Londonderry, pp.89-90.

  Chapter Four

  A PRIVILEGED CHILDHOOD

  * * *

  Even from her early days the young Frances and future Duchess mixed at a level in society which produced the poise and confidence that characterised her as an adult. There is a significant account of her and her brother being taken to see the Empress of Austria in Verona. Harry was dressed in a short cambric frock with blue ribbons let in down the robings, trimmed with lace and
hanging buttons; his trousers had three rows of lace, his stockings a jour and little black shoes, a broad light blue sash and shoulder knots and his hair nicely settled. Frances had a cambric worked frock, blue satin sash and shoulder knots, a pretty cap trimmed and lined with blue, with a matching necklace and bracelets.

  On the whole Frances’ manners were better: while Harry cried and hid his face in his mother’s gown, she submitted to being picked up and petted and coaxed by the Empress, an early indication of her natural diplomacy. Nevertheless, returning from another freezing excursion, this time to Venice, Frances Anne wrote to her mother that she found both children quite well, ‘… the former delighted to see me, the latter I can hardly flatter myself either prettier or cleverer than I left her. She is so different from Henry that, while I reproach myself for it, I cannot love her as well as Henry.’1

  Such an admission for a mother to make! Is this the reason why there is only one surviving portrait of the young Frances while Harry’s good looks are displayed frequently?

  In some respects this is an echo of Frances Anne’s comments about herself at the age of 12:

  I was a woman in size, thoughts and feelings. I was singularly ugly – broad, fat, awkwardly made, with immense feet, huge purple hands, greasy stubborn hair and a fixed redness in my face.2

  Neglected by both her parents, Frances Anne had been taken under the wing of her aunt, Mrs Angelo Taylor, a singularly beautiful woman who later became her guardian, but her daughter Frances may not have been so fortunate. There is some evidence, however, that she was her father’s favourite.

  They set off on the long journey home from Verona. In Florence in 1823 Harry caught a cold and by the time they reached Milan this had developed into a bad cough which it was feared would settle on his chest. Charles, anxious to cross the Alps before Frances Anne’s most recent pregnancy developed too far, was forced to wait three weeks before Harry, having had leeches applied to his chest, was pronounced fit to travel. After a further delay of two weeks in Paris, Frances Anne finally reached Dover with a bed in the carriage and six nurses. Charles, full of relief at arriving in England, wrote to Emily, Castlereagh’s widow, living at Cray, that he could not bear to pass her by without communication, but that to go to her so soon after his brother’s death would be more than he could bear. He adds his news: his wife has crossed the Channel in safety and, although very ill, was not in danger of miscarriage; Harry was still recovering from his bout of illness, but Frances also was poorly:

  and I am afraid she is not nor will she be a beauty. But she will be, I hope, quick and clever and amiable and will find favour in your eyes.3

  Charles Stewart’s judgement of his eldest daughter was to prove very true. Obviously he loved her unconditionally.

  From this point of infancy until the year of her marriage, in 1843, only mere glimpses of Frances’ existence are known. These very formative years were largely spent in either Wynyard Hall near Durham, Mount Stewart near Belfast, or Londonderry House in Mayfair. All three homes exuded a rare degree of wealth, comfort, privilege and social contact. While Frances in her youthfulness would not have the experience to evaluate these advantages consciously, nevertheless they would have an impact and influence upon her and would form attitudes and qualities which would always stay with her.

  Frances Anne, returning to Wynyard after five years absence, found it almost unfurnished. The result of this was that she and her husband commissioned Benjamin and Philip Wyatt to demolish the old house and rebuild more grandly: the Tempest mansion, built in the Flemish rural style, was to be replaced by a classical Greek shape. This was not finished until 1825, when Frances was three years old and Harry was four. There is no surviving description of this house of Frances’ childhood; it was destroyed by fire in 1841. A very attractive watercolour of Wynyard Park itself does exist, however, dated 1840, by the local artist, John Wilson Carmichael. The Durham Directory of 1894 records that it stood on the site of the present Hall, ‘delightfully situated in the centre of the home park, near a large artificial lake, which is crossed by an elegant suspension bridge’. The area of the site was 2,500 acres, and an obelisk standing 127 feet high on the highest point in the Park commemorates a visit in 1827 by Londonderry’s old friend, the Duke of Wellington.

  Wynyard was the ancestral seat and home of the family. Here were hung the portraits of Frances Anne and Charles, painted on the occasion of their engagement in 1818 by Sir Thomas Lawrence; it was Tsar Alexander’s first sight of this portrait of Frances Anne that inspired his deep attachment to her. They are seen exactly as described by contemporaries: Charles is the handsome, dashing cavalry officer, and Frances Anne, although not pretty in the conventional sense, has a face full of confidence, character and humour. Also here were the twin portraits of the couple painted by Ender in 1820 in their rooms in the British Embassy in Vienna, when Charles was British Ambassador there. The original painting of Tsar Alexander I by Sir Thomas Lawrence also hung at Wynyard. To these was added later a portrait of eldest son and heir Harry, the future Viscount Seaham, an attractive, delicate-featured boy.

  Perhaps it was the staircase which fascinated the young Frances. Tiny as she was, she would surely love to climb each stair, holding tightly to the banister and looking to left and right, enjoying the improved view of each portrait and particularly that of Mama by Sir Thomas Lawrence, smiling affectionately out into the world, her eyes dancing with kindliness and humour. Frances was surrounded by love and goodwill, particularly from her father, whose portrait hung close by, his army uniform splendidly decorated with honours and his commanding profile staring confidently into the middle distance. These were some of the qualities that the girl inherited from her parents. The third portrait of fascination to the children would be that of Tsar Alexander I, Alexandrina’s godfather, a tall, imposing figure of dignity and strength.

  There seems to have been no portrait of Frances at Wynyard. She was said by several people, including the Tsar, to resemble her mother, Frances Anne, but this does not appear to have drawn affection from that quarter. It probably meant that she had brains and character rather than beauty, and this was certainly borne out in later life.

  In July 1823 Frances Anne’s baby was born in Londonderry House, a girl, Alexandrina Octavia Maria, and the Tsar was reminded of his promise to be godfather. In the meantime, in the House of Lords, the Londonderry wealth was considered too great for Charles to be given the usual diplomatic pension: on the other hand, the Prime Minister, Lord Liverpool, agreed to the unusual step of creating Charles an earl with special remainder to Harry, the eldest son of his second marriage. This delighted Frances Anne, who rejoiced in her son’s recognition. It was perhaps more an expression of regard for Charles than the pension, which he did not need. It meant that both sons would now have a peerage, his elder to succeed him as Marquess, the younger as Earl.

  The nursery now had three occupants: Harry, Frances and Alexandrina. They were not isolated; in common with the great houses of the nineteenth century, Wynyard teemed with life and was a community in its own right. There were many rooms and innumerable staff, all of whom lived in and received bed and board as well as their annual wage, which was strictly scaled according to their status on the staff. In a good house a servant was comfortable, preferring this life to one outside on the farms.

  Frances’ upbringing was consistent with that of girls of her class. With the other children, she was looked after in the nursery wing by nursery maids and Nanny. Just as she was to find years later as Duchess, with her own huge household at Blenheim, girls and women had many fewer opportunities than boys and men. In later childhood she remained at home with a governess responsible for her education, often restricted to such ladylike subjects as music, embroidery, art and some knowledge of European languages.

  Harry, however, was sent to Eton, his father’s public school. Here the emphasis was on developing the self-confidence and self-reliance of the public leaders it was assumed the boys would become. A dome
stic role in their own households was the assumption, and usually the reality, for girls. An important preparation for this was what they absorbed, subconsciously, in their childhood environment in all its aspects, from day to day routine to the grander occasions.

  The next major event in the Londonderry household was a typically grand ceremonial occasion. In the summer of 1825 the new London home, Londonderry House, was opened with a great banquet and ball. This was originally Holdernesse House in Park Lane, bought by Charles at about the time of Frances’ birth, and combined with the house next door to provide an impressive and fashionable London base for the family. Benjamin and Philip Wyatt were the architects, both here and at Wynyard, and certainly no expense seems to have been spared. Besides the initial purchase price of at least £43,000, no less than £200,000 is said to have been spent: a new entrance was created from Park Lane and given a splendid staircase; a ballroom, gallery and banqueting hall provided the means to entertain on a grand scale. The paintings and sculptures collected by Charles during his ambassadorship in Vienna were displayed here, together with portraits of George IV, the Duke of Wellington and Tsar Alexander I, the latter having been shipped from St Petersburg in 1824 to hang at Wynyard.