Churchill's Grandmama

by Margaret E. Forster

  There is no doubt about his popularity at Blenheim, among his own family and also among the local people who were later to vote him into the House of Commons. One of them later wrote that he always found Lord Randolph a generous, friendly, cheerful personality, with strong likes and dislikes, but one of the staunchest and most amiable of friends. As for the borough of Woodstock, an interesting situation was developing. The retiring MP was the Duke’s brother, Lord Alfred, who leaned more towards the Liberals than the Duke would like, and in 1864 John Winston had withdrawn his substantial support from him. The Marlboroughs had always hoped that their younger son, who would remain unclaimed by the House of Lords because he was not in the direct line of the title, would find his career as a politician. At this moment, therefore, it was 15-year-old Randolph who rose to his feet at a dinner given by the constituents of Woodstock to express thanks to Lord Alfred for his services in a carefully prepared and delivered speech. And so Randolph the public speaker was on his way and his future was taking shape.

  Notes

  1. I Corinthians Ch. 9, v. 22.

  2. Recollections of My Dear Son, by Frances, 7th Duchess of Marlborough, Blenheim Archives.

  3. Recollections of My Dear Son, by Frances, 7th Duchess of Marlborough, Blenheim Archives.

  Chapter Eleven

  RANDOLPH AT OXFORD

  * * *

  When John and Frances’ second son moved on from Eton, they agreed that now was the moment to plan for the future. His behaviour had improved considerably but the next hurdle awaiting him was a high one. The Reverend Lionel Damer was engaged to prepare him for entry into Oxford, and he left the Marlboroughs in no doubt about the enormity of his task. He tells the Duke that Randolph did not care for scholarship, that he was ‘horribly inaccurate’, and that he guessed at truth instead of applying his mind.

  However, in 1867, after one unsuccessful attempt to pass the entrance examination, Randolph took up residence at Merton College, Oxford. Here he was assigned to Dr Creighton, a wise choice. The open and free atmosphere of the university opened up his life considerably. In the mid-nineteenth century Merton’s reputation was one of social superiority, catering as it did largely for old Etonians, particularly aristocratic ones like Randolph. He soon forgot his disappointment at not getting into Balliol, where many of his friends were, and continued to spend a great deal of his time with his two closest companions at Christ Church, Lord Dalmeny and Edward Marjoribanks, who later married Randolph’s sister Fanny and became the 2nd Baron Tweedmouth. The proximity of Blenheim brought him back regularly to his devoted family and the pleasures of a landed estate. Always a bold and skilful horseman, he took up hunting again with renewed vigour and these were the golden years of the Blenheim Harriers, which lasted for three years and demonstrated his good qualities. He built affectionate relationships with huntsmen and farmers. As a horseman he was courteous and composed, ready to take his tumbles with the best. He also took a keen interest in his sisters’ lives, as by 1870 three of them were already launched socially. He was a good brother and a considerate son in this period, endearing himself to his mother and the other women in his life. His friendship with Lord Dalmeny, which lasted a lifetime, ripened now and the two young men were encouraged towards politics by Disraeli.

  Randolph continued to worry Frances, however, for he had not lost his taste for social disruption. At Oxford he was a founder member of the ‘Myrmidons’, a dining club exclusive to Merton men and a few carefully selected guests, which met regularly at the city’s Mitre and Randolph hotels, and soon attracted the attention of the college and university authorities. Although he may not have become particularly outrageous, nevertheless the legends have survived, and he was a familiar target for the university’s proctors and ‘bulldogs’; there was concealment in coal cellars, imprisonment of waiters in pantries and ice safes, and a general level of high spirits which often went out of control. Further, there was conflict with the city police, to whom students were a permanent problem. On one occasion Lord Randolph was charged with drunkenness, and he was so incensed that he brought an action for perjury against a police witness. The college authorities wanted him to withdraw the charge and appealed to the Duke for his support, but on this occasion, interestingly enough, the Duke supported Randolph. There were fines, however, for smoking in academic dress in the street; severe reprimands for breaking windows at the Randolph Hotel, an occupation which was later imitated by his son Winston at Harrow; and loud and forceful expressions of his opinions which would have been better expressed in the more formal surroundings of the Oxford Union Debating Chamber.

  There was a brush with the Dean of Christ Church, H.G. Liddell, father of Alice, the inspiration for Lewis Carroll’s famous ‘Alice’, and a regular guest at Blenheim, who accused him of acting outrageously in the college precincts and, more seriously, of denying the offence. The latter was the real issue, as it ran completely counter to the principles John Winston and Frances valued and had tried to instil. Dr Liddell wrote angrily:

  I was taught when I was young and I have always clung to the belief, that the first quality of an English Gentleman was to speak the truth without fear, or if unhappily he was compelled to tell an untruth, to feel shame at what he had done and to own his fault frankly … However, I have no wish to prolong this correspondence. We shall accept your second note as an apology and shall hope that the expression of sorrow for what you did implies a promise that such an act will not be repeated.1

  It is possible that the misdemeanours of the sons of public figures receive more attention than others and are more frequently thrust into the public eye than those from more ordinary backgrounds. Randolph was possibly no worse than his peers: no better, either. But he was the son of the Duke and Duchess of Marlborough, both public figures in their own right, and subsequent events have meant his childhood and adolescence have been researched carefully. Whether he had more than most to cringe about later is a matter of opinion.

  What is more significant is the fact that, at the time of Randolph’s student days, Oxford was alive with all the vigour and intellectual debate which characterised this period nationally. It seems to have taken place over his head. Immersed as he was in his own activities, both in Oxford and at home at Blenheim, there is no reference to the activity going on around him. The scene was dominated by the Oxford Movement and the Pre-Raphaelite artists; in 1859 Charles Darwin published his On the Origin of Species, although it was to be some time before the book became significant. From the proceeds of the Great Exhibition of 1851 were built in London the Science Museum, the Natural History Museum and the Victoria and Albert Museum. Prince Albert had died in 1861 from typhoid fever and Queen Victoria in her grief had withdrawn from public life. In Edinburgh Joseph Lister was revolutionising modern surgery with his introduction of antiseptic techniques; in 1867 Dr Barnardo founded his first home for destitute children. The London Underground was established in 1862, driven by steam with open carriages. Closer to home, the Dean of Christ Church, Henry Liddell, the father of three girls, had confronted his mathematics don, C.L. Dodgson, in June 1862 and forbidden him to have any further contact with his daughters. In 1865 Dodgson published Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland under the pseudonym of Lewis Carroll and thus began the genre of children’s literature. At Blenheim both Duke and Duchess were keenly active locally.

  In the General Election of 1868 the Liberal candidate for Woodstock was one of the Merton dons, a Mr Brodrick. The seat was normally occupied by a Marlborough member, but because of the disagreement between the Duke and his brother, Lord Alfred, the contest was more exciting than usual and some of Brodrick’s supporters waxed more enthusiastic than was acceptable. Lord Randolph took exception to the language used by these gentlemen, particularly when they accused his father of bribery, intimidation and dishonest interference with the suffrage. He showed his usual lack of restraint by proceeding to cut Brodrick’s lectures, which in those days were compulsory. Accused by the Warden of Merton, he re
plied that he could not in all conscience attend the lectures of a man who had called his father a scoundrel. Nothing further was said but, typically, Randolph was unable to leave it there. He prepared a letter for the press, but before posting showed it to Dr Creighton, his tutor, a shrewd, competent man who later became Bishop of London. Creighton’s comment was that if he were going to send a letter at all, he could not send a better one. He advised Randolph not to send it, however, telling him to keep out of politics at his age. Sensible for once, Randolph followed this advice, but he was not to be so wise 20 years later.

  After the Conservative defeat in 1868 Disraeli was a frequent visitor at Blenheim. Even though his life-long friend and supporter Frances Anne was dead, he was still a welcome and honoured guest and he held a high opinion of Randolph and young Lord Dalmeny, who also was frequently at the Palace. Disraeli was greatly disappointed when Dalmeny, later Rosebery, was drawn by Gladstone’s oratory and joined the Liberals, but his interest in Lord Randolph was more than mere politeness to the son of an influential colleague: he respected his talent, remarking to Frances that it lay with her younger son to make a distinguished political career for himself.

  By 1869 Randolph, aged 20, was showing a maturity and sense of responsibility which can only have brought a sense of relief to his long-suffering parents. His reading had advanced from R.S. Surtees’ Jorrocks, inspiration for Pickwick Papers, to Gibbon’s Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, for his knowledge of which he became well known. He suddenly disbanded his Blenheim Harriers, much to the members’ disappointment, and announced his determination to work for his finals, in his case in History and Law. He was going to add industry to talent and, aided by the admirable Creighton, he worked long hours to try to repair the effects of years of idleness. A letter from Dr Creighton to the Duchess at this time shows the quality of his tutorial skills. She and the Duke were unfailing in concern and support for their son, and this particular letter must have been a welcome occasion for the Marlboroughs for it made clear that after long years spent causing worry and disappointment Randolph had at last come to his senses. Creighton began by acknowledging that Randolph had done well in his studies, the only question now being whether he would reach an appreciably higher standard if he deferred his examination for six months. At the moment Randolph was working very well and in general was up to a second class degree, in some cases a first. Dr Creighton wrote that if the exam could be postponed for six months Randolph might improve his prospects, but to wait six months could mean he would peak too early; therefore, better to make a firm decision to take the examination now.

  Then Dr Creighton made a remarkable offer. He told the grateful mother that he would require Randolph to give him a rigorous account of what he had done in the examination and if Creighton thought he had not done himself justice he would advise him to remove his name before the end and wait a further six months. Wisely, however, he asked Frances not to let her son know of this possibility. He wanted Randolph to make his best effort at the first attempt without knowing of the alternative plan.

  A second letter a month later shows how well Dr Creighton had judged and acted. Admitting his own disappointment at hearing how narrowly Lord Randolph had missed the first class, he said he had been told by the examiners that his tutee was the best man to be placed in the second class. He found it tantalising that Randolph had come so near to a first, but the decision not to delay had been the correct one: Randolph would have peaked too early. The final words of Creighton’s letter must have been balm to the parents who had had so many years of disappointment and anxiety: ‘I am sorry to lose him.’ It is tempting to compare this degree of parental involvement with the dismissive attitude of Randolph himself, when it came to the question of his own son’s career. In spite of Frances’ insistence that Winston was a clever boy, the future prime minister was never given the chance to go to university.

  Obviously Randolph was difficult to handle and unused to the sort of consistent application that brings the best results; most academics would agree he was fortunate in his tutor and in his result. Two years later, after a lengthy and light-hearted tour of Europe, he emerged self-confident, elegantly dressed, socially accomplished and well-educated.

  Notes

  1. Letter from H.G. Liddell, Dean of Christchurch, cited by Robert Rhodes James in Lord Randolph Churchill, pp.27-8.

  Chapter Twelve

  RANDOLPH AND JENNIE

  * * *

  In August 1873, as in every August, exhausted by their efforts at the end of the London season, the English upper classes repaired to Cowes on the Isle of Wight, where entertainment consisted of racing boats in the Solent, the stretch of water between the island and Britain’s south coast. Cowes was in 1873, as it still is today, the centre of Britain’s yachting world. Close beside the walls of Osborne, the house which Queen Victoria and Prince Albert had built together, the parties, the gossip and the flirting went on with a privacy and anonymity which London could not afford. The leader in all this activity, both the yachting and the socialising, was Albert Edward, Prince of Wales. At the age of 32 his reputation for fast and loose living was already established and he led a life devoid of commitment, either personal or political, spending his time, as it were, waiting to be king and indulging himself in every manner possible.

  He had gathered around himself some of the country’s younger aristocrats and others who had become known as the Marlborough House set. Marlborough House, originally built by Sarah, 1st Duchess of Marlborough next to St James’s Palace on the Mall, had reverted to the Crown in 1817 and been given to the Prince of Wales on his marriage to Princess Alexandra. Included in the elite, privileged group were George, Marquess of Blandford, aged 29, eldest son and heir to Blenheim and the Marlborough dukedom, and Lord Randolph, second son, aged 25 and fresh from Oxford and the Grand Tour of Europe. George’s personality seems by this time to have been set in the mould of the ‘fast set’; nor is it surprising that Randolph, whose own capacity for self-indulgence and self-justification had been amply demonstrated at school and university, was gravitating in this direction, despite the fact that others were more experienced in the ways of the world than he was. Blandford’s reputation was one of self-centredness and marital infidelity, but Lord Randolph was known to be much closer to his parents and sisters and less cynical.

  At a ball given on 12 August by the officers of the cruiser Ariadne, the guard ship of the Royal Regatta, in honour of the Tsarevitch and Tsarevna of Russia, Randolph Spencer-Churchill met Jennie Jerome, a pretty nineteen-year-old American girl who was to play an important role in his life. Randolph’s emotional volatility, however, which had so distressed his parents, dominated him again. The following evening he dined with her family, the day afterwards they went for a walk, and on that third evening, under a pattern of stars, as the moonlight danced above the yachts in the harbour, the ever-impetuous Randolph proposed marriage. Jennie accepted. It had taken him only three days to come to a momentous decision, which the contemporary observer would have thought highly impractical.

  It had been a most romantic setting. The ball, the highlight of the Regatta, was held in the afternoon on the deck of the Ariadne, and guests were ferried across the harbour in crowded boats. The ship’s ladder had to be negotiated by women in their full skirts, causing much hilarity and contributing to the excitement of the occasion. The deck, draped with the national colours of Britain and Imperial Russia, was lit by bobbing lanterns and a Royal Marine Band played in the background. Jennie and her two sisters, brought from America to Paris by their ambitious mother, had found life in the French capital very dull, but in Cowes the summer heat, the exuberant dancing and the freedom from social restraint worked its magic on them all. The invitation to the ball was a direct consequence of Jennie being presented to the Prince and Princess of Wales, and that was largely the consequence of Mrs Jerome’s previous diligent work in Paris, where she negotiated the social scene tirelessly on behalf of her daughters. By the time
the Jerome sisters reached the deck of the Ariadne, they were fully established in the social set in Cowes. Jennie was an accomplished dancer and her natural vivacity responded to the situation; her dark hair and sparkling eyes made her a magnet for dancing partners. Randolph, on the other hand, did not dance because it made him dizzy, but he made the most of the opportunities to converse and to display his own sartorial elegance.

  He was introduced to Jennie at his own request by Frank Bertie, an old friend. What she saw before her was a pale young man of average height, with a large head and a walrus moustache, attractive but not handsome. He was immaculately dressed, however, with all the elegant polish of his class, and the fact that he belonged to the Marlborough set intrigued Jennie immediately. They lost no time in becoming more closely acquainted. Randolph always spoke with great rapidity and vehemence, occasionally with a compelling intensity; he could be charming and witty and was capable of captivating a woman for whom he felt a profound attraction. Soon they had both lost interest in everyone else and sat on the open deck, talking happily and sipping champagne. A souvenir of the occasion was kept by Jennie for the rest of her life: the invitation to the ball, ostensibly to meet the Russian royal couple, had Randolph’s name inserted above theirs in Jennie’s handwriting.

  Mrs Jerome, who had rented Rosetta Cottage, a small house with pretty gardens facing the sea near the village of Cowes, was persuaded to invite Randolph and his friend, Colonel Edgcumbe, to dine with the family the next evening. There Jennie and her sisters demonstrated their prowess on the piano, and she later confided in her sister Clara, demanding that she should not be critical of Randolph because she was intuitively drawn to him and might marry him. Interestingly, the colonel was taken into confidence at almost exactly the same moment by Randolph, who joked that he would endeavour to marry the dark-haired Miss Jerome.