Queen Victoria's Mysterious Daughter

by Lucinda Hawksley

  Despite her sadness Louise soon became ‘a great favourite’ with her husband’s subjects, as the British Minister, Sir Edward Thornton, reported at the start of January 1879. Before her arrival, one of Lord Dufferin’s staff, terribly nervous about how to deal with a princess, had issued orders on how to dress and behave, which angered the local people. Francis de Winton, who was acting as Lorne’s private secretary, earned the couple a lot of very bad press when – without their knowledge – he took the peremptory decision to force several journalists off their train when the couple first arrived. When Louise heard about this and about the concerns people had about not possessing ‘regal’ enough clothes to wear to the official gatherings, she was angry, commenting that she wouldn’t mind if they ‘came in blanket coats!’.

  Within days of her arrival, people had begun to realise that their fears were unfounded, and Louise was greeted even more warmly than she had anticipated. In January 1879, she held a party for the local children at their home, Rideau Hall in Ottawa (also known as Government House), and a few weeks later she proved to the Canadians that the queen’s daughter was unaffected and practical. When an outbreak of scarlet fever hit several of the servants and household at Rideau Hall, the other servants refused to nurse the patients, for fear of getting ill themselves. Louise, who had survived scarlet fever as a child, immediately took charge and nursed her staff and household back to health.

  Her culinary skills also surprised her guests. The lessons Louise had learnt in the Swiss Cottage at Osborne House had not been forgotten. One guest related to his family his astonishment at discovering the oyster pâté had been made by the princess. A long article appeared in an American magazine, telling the story of a dinner party in London at which Louise had happily shared her recipe and cooking tips. As The Hour (described as a New York City ‘society journal’) reported:

  [Princess Louise] is a lady of much good taste, with a large fund of commonsense. The supervision of her household affairs is upon the model characteristic of all well-appointed English households. A gentleman who has a weakness for apricot tart dined with her a short time before she left England. To his delight, apricot tart was included in the menu, and he expressed his fondness for it. ‘I am so glad you like it,’ replied his hostess, ‘because I made it myself. Let me give you the recipe,’ and with genial interest she detailed its ingredients. ‘Remember, when you get home, to tell Mrs J–– that apricot tart should always have an upper crust’.

  Louise became renowned for the ease with which she addressed people, chatting to everyone she met and shaking hands – people did not expect a royal to permit any physical contact – including with native Canadians and their wives. This was at a time when most local white settlers were both terrified of the native Canadians, and looked down upon them. In October 1879, the Toronto Globe reported ‘an amusing incident which occurred at the reception held by the Princess Louise at Hamilton. Chief Waubuno, of the Six Nations Indians, and a brother red-man, both arrayed in Indian costume, mounted the dais and shook hands with the Princess, who, though somewhat startled by the sudden appearance of such warlike-looking individuals, evidently enjoyed the novelty, and cordially returned their well-meant greeting.’ A similar incident had happened to Bertie, while travelling in North America, and he had received his native American visitors with the same aplomb and friendship.

  The stories of Louise’s ‘common touch’ continued to be talked about for decades after her time in Canada. A newspaper article of 1912 recalled how ‘on one occasion, in a Canadian cottage, the daughter of Queen Victoria peeled potatoes, while sheltering from a storm’. Not everyone was pleased by this, however, as several members of Ottawan society had been thrilled at the thought of how elevated society would become with a princess at its helm. Jehanne Wake reports in her book on Louise how cross one Ottawan luminary was when he discovered that despite having been invited to a viceregal party, he was expected to share the dance floor with his grocer. There were also grievances about the fact that Louise and Lorne spoke French fluently – in terms of diplomacy, this made the French-Canadians far more welcoming to the viceregal couple than had been expected, but it made the non-French speakers complain of being ‘left out’ of conversations. The division between French-owned, French-speaking Canada and British-owned, English-speaking Canada was marked and politically difficult. Louise and Lorne made their best attempts to close the vast rift between the two.

  If for Louise being in Canada meant being away from those she loved, it was also a welcome release from the stifling social conventions in Britain and her mother’s court. For Lorne, it was the start of an exciting new era and one which he embraced wholeheartedly. In England, Lorne was constantly made to feel second best: he was the commoner son-in-law of the queen; at certain official functions he was not even permitted to sit at the same table as his wife. In Canada, however, he was the most important person in the land. His and Louise’s roles had been switched, as she was now his subject and expected to behave as such. It was noted with wonder how easily Louise adjusted to being subservient to her husband. Marie von Bunsen, a German aristocrat and family friend of the Campbells, wrote in her memoirs:

  Government House was ugly, but comfortable and dignified; but the Court struck me as odd. All the honours were paid to him as the Sovereign’s representative; the Princess Louise, the Queen’s daughter and a Royal Highness, played second fiddle on every occasion. She took her seat and walked on his left, entered the room behind him, rose with all the rest of us when he came in and, like all the rest, remained standing until he was seated … [Lorne was] a fair, cheery man, not a personality, but keen, and with many interests; she, tall and slight, a handsome figure in black velvet with diamonds and emeralds in the evening. She was clever and had artistic tastes [and was] most likeable.

  Marie von Bunsen was available and willing to spend time with Lorne, so Louise used the opportunity to cry off social engagements, such as the theatre, suggesting Marie went in her place. This had the effect of making Marie side with Lorne. She seemed to think that Louise was terribly cruel to Lorne and that this must have been because she was in love with someone else. It seems likely that Marie was flattered by the attention Lorne paid to her, and perhaps saw herself as Louise’s rival in love. It was soon being whispered that Louise was not happy with her husband and that she was having an affair, using the numerous times she did not accompany Lorne to engagements to meet her lover. I discovered in the archives in Ottawa that many men had their names coupled with Louise in the gossip of the time – and in gossip printed several decades later, when people were still telling stories about the princess. The newspapers certainly elaborated over the years and the rumours grew in the telling. It is unlikely that she could possibly have had quite so many lovers in Canada as have been attributed to her – certainly not without the news getting back to England – but whoever she was or wasn’t having an affair with, the problems in her marriage were apparent to most of their circle in Ottawa.

  Louise and Lorne were keen to see Canada. One of their first sightseeing trips was undertaken with Edward Thornton and his wife; they visited Niagara Falls and the newspapers in America and Canada sent reporters in their droves. No one was fooled by the incognito of Lord and Lady Sundridge. An illustration of the viceregal couple (though neither is easy to recognise) walking across the ‘ice bridge at Niagara Falls’ appeared in a number of newspapers. Both the Lornes and the Thorntons grew weary of being constantly stalked by journalists and laughed out loud when one reporter fell over in the snow while trying to sneak up on them.

  In February 1879, Louise was upset at missing her beloved brother Arthur’s wedding to Princess Louise of Prussia (‘Louischen’). Her future sister-in-law had written her a very sweet letter, just before Louise and Lorne left for Canada, commiserating with Louise’s ‘low spirits’ and saying ‘Arthur and I will miss you terribly and it is so sad that his favourite sister should not be there for our marriage.’ In an attempt to raise h
er spirits, Louise hosted her first proper party since Lorne had taken office. It was to be a ‘uniquely Canadian’ event – an ice-skating party. Louise had learnt to skate as a child, but she needed to brush up her skills. Instead of taking private lessons, she endeared herself to her household by learning alongside them – and hooting with laughter every time she fell over. She also oversaw the decorations for the party, ensuring the grounds were lit with flaming torches and oriental-style lanterns. As there was to be dancing on the ice, as well as in the ballroom, a band was hired to play alongside the ice rink. Well versed in the habits of Canadian winters, the band insisted that a large stove be provided and the musicians took regular breaks to thaw out their frozen musical instruments.

  Rideau Hall was a forbidding property when Louise and Lorne arrived, and Louise took immediate action to make it less ugly and more habitable. The original stone house had been built as a private family home in the 1830s. In 1865, it was leased to the first Governor-General and was eventually bought by the government. By the time of Lorne’s residency, the house had undergone a number of extensions and changes. Evelyn Moreton recalled its appearance in 1878: ‘cramped inside, monstrous outside … the Tent-room and ballroom already flanked the front door, which was a squat affair – more like a stable entrance than a Governor-General’s residence’. The ‘tent-room’, an innovation added during the tenancy of Lord Dufferin, was an indoor tennis court that could be, according to one contemporary report, ‘converted in a few hours into a splendid supper-room’. Lord Frederic Hamilton, the brother-in-law of Lord Lansdowne who would become Governor-General after Lorne, recalled how the room could be transformed: ‘a red and white tent is lowered bodily from the roof; a carpet is spread over the floor; great white-and-gold electric standards bearing the arms of the different Provinces are placed in position, and the thing is done’. Several other visitors to Rideau Hall also commented on a peculiarity that Hamilton noticed. ‘The thing most surprising to strangers was that it was possible in winter-time to light the gas with one’s finger. All that was necessary was to shuffle over the carpet in thin shoes, and then on touching any metal object, an electric spark half an inch long would crack out of your finger.’

  When she wasn’t carrying out official duties, Louise filled her days with walking, riding, shopping and art. Depressed by her new home’s dark, dull interiors, she set about decorating Rideau Hall, painting pictures to hang on the walls and painting the walls themselves. As part of their entourage, Louise and Lorne had invited the artist Sydney Prior Hall to Canada; he was a talented portrait painter and book illustrator and Louise and he often painted and discussed decorating ideas together. (During their first Christmas in Canada, Louise asked Hall to sit to her so she could paint him.) Inspired by Japanese art and Aestheticism, she decorated her own boudoir in peacock blue, and painted sprays of apple blossom trailing over the doors. Other artist friends who visited Louise during her first months in Canada were Henrietta and Clara Montalba. The three friends worked happily together on paintings and sculptures of one another and on recreating scenes of Canadian life (Henrietta also sculpted a bust of Lorne dressed in Canadian furs).

  Louise decided that the woods around Rideau Hall were too dense, obscuring the beautiful views around them when she went for walks. So she ordered what became known as the ‘Princess Vista’, a swathe cut through the woods so that a glimpse of the Ottawa River could be seen in the distance. Evelyn Moreton, who spent her weekdays having lessons with the de Winton children, recalled with great fondness her Sundays with Louise.

  There were sedate ViceRegal walks on Sunday afternoons during the winter, when in a solid phalanx, we sallied forth in sealskin coats, the women and children with their heads shrouded in white woollen mufflers called ‘clouds’ and worn over our caps, a blessing to one’s ears, though we must have looked funny trudging along, headed by Lord Lorne, talking in his high-pitched, nasal voice, with Princess Louise, young and beautiful, by his side. It was she who nicknamed me ‘Little Seal’, because she said I was seal-coloured all over – eyes, hair, and coat. And I was full of importance as I trotted along with the grown-ups on those Sunday afternoons!

  The grounds of the house were spectacular, with two skating rinks, which were also used for curling matches, and an aviary. Something that Louise found especially touching was that Lord Dufferin had left specific instructions that the artist’s studio he had had built for his own works be preserved for the princess. He also left painting and sculpting equipment, knowing how much she would miss her own studio in the years she would be away from London.

  Louise took every opportunity to be outside sketching. She commissioned a special ‘sketching hut’ to be made, a portable shed which could be moved around the grounds but which was warm enough for her to sit inside and shelter in on inclement days. It sounds as though it was similar to a bird hide, on wheels, although one wall was made entirely of glass to allow the princess and her companion to sketch even when the weather was bad. Her love of ingenious devices to enable her to paint on the move was well known, begun in childhood when her tutor Edward Corbould encouraged her to carry a sketchbook wherever she went. The artist Arthur Severn (whose wife, Joan, was Ruskin’s cousin and housekeeper) created three of what were described by the artist Henry Stacy Marks as ‘the tiniest paintboxes in existence’. In an interview with the journalist Harry How in 1891, Marks said that the three paintboxes were owned by him, by Arthur Severn and by Princess Louise. He described the box as: ‘in the shape of a charm for a watch-chain but, on opening it, it is found to contain all the necessary colours in miniature for painting a picture’.

  The princess also indulged one of her favourite new pastimes: fishing. In 1974, the owner of a junk stall in London’s Camden Market sold ‘a very tatty canvas bag containing a rather heavy greenheart salmon fishing rod’. The man who bought it was intrigued to discover that the butt was engraved with the words ‘H.R.H. the Princess Louise, 18th March 1879’ – it was a present for her thirty-first birthday, which she spent in Canada. It was obviously well used – in autumn 1879, a ship returning to Liverpool from Canada was entrusted with a consignment of ‘nine fine salmon’, caught by Princess Louise and sent as a gift to her mother, siblings and members of the royal household. The National Library and Archives in Ottawa contain a large number of Louise’s sketches and drawings, many of which depict figures fishing, often from a canoe. In several of these the people fishing are identifiable as herself and her husband. Louise’s one grievance while fishing was that mosquitoes and other insects plagued them as they fished; so she invented a ‘mosquito helmet’, an uncomfortable-looking contraption. One observer recalled seeing Louise smeared all over with a dark tar-like substance, said to be impenetrable to biting insects.

  The newspapers in England had not forgotten their princess and waited eagerly for stories to appear in the Canadian press, so they could repeat them. In the spring of 1879, the Manchester Evening News reported that the princess

  may be seen in the dull grey mornings, of which we have had so many since her arrival, at as early an hour as 8.30, vigorously walking in the romantic neighbourhood of Rideau Hall. She comes to town nearly every day, not in a carriage, but in good stout English walking boots, in which she tramps through mud and slush with a bold firm step … A few days ago she was seen suddenly to stop before a small tinshop. She saw something in the window which attracted her attention, and after observing it for a moment, walked into the very humble place. Now, what do you suppose had struck her fancy? A small tin teapot. A little common thing, with a capacity of about one cup, and worth about 25 cents. She bought it, put it in her capacious pocket, and trudged on.

  In May 1879, Louise and Lorne travelled to Quebec, visiting Montreal – where they opened the new gallery of the Arts Association – and Quebec City. In Quebec Louise was instantly popular because of her superb French (she learnt from babyhood to speak German, French and English equally fluently), and the couple decided to make their su
mmer home the Citadel in Quebec City. A few weeks later, the Argyll family arrived to stay in Canada. They loved the countryside and decided that they should all go camping. The journalists, who noted their every move, were amazed that the queen’s daughter was happy to ‘rough it’ in a tent.

  Following their summer at the Citadel, to which Louise and Lorne returned once the Argyll family had left, the viceregal couple travelled by ship to Nova Scotia, visiting Prince Edward Island, and on to western Ontario. Lorne was determined that he should see as much of ‘his’ country as possible. He would become a respected Governor-General, but it must have been galling that, no matter how tirelessly he worked, the person his subjects really wanted to see was his wife. In a letter sent when Louise and Lorne had been in Canada for nearly ten months, Disraeli wrote that although Lorne was not as popular as Lord Dufferin had been, Louise was ‘a great success … she is extremely gracious, speaks to everybody and is interested in everything and skates divinely’.

  For some reason, Lorne was never quite as popular as he should have been, and it seems that this may have been because people in Canada (and America, when he visited), had their suspicions about his sexuality. While the women of Britain were writing letters to the princess suggesting how she might overcome her infertility, the women of North America may have been rather more aware of why the marriage was childless. In the 1980s, Sandra Gwyn, a Canadian academic, published The Private Capital, about the history of the Governors-General. In most books, when one reads about Lorne, the words ‘allegedly’ and ‘perhaps’ often appear in references to his sexuality. In Gwyn’s book it was refreshing to discover that the chapter devoted to Lorne’s time in Ottawa is simply entitled ‘The Gay Governor-General’. Gwyn comments: