February 1895, London
‘After her debut, Mrs Chamberlain took her daughter to England, and presented herself with a letter of introduction to Lady Paget, who at once arranged a dinner to meet the Prince of Wales.’ – FREDERICK TOWNSEND MARTIN
Minnie Paget’s unmistakable Brougham carriage pulled up slowly outside the Naylor-Leyland mansion at Albert Gate. The liveried coachman descended from his commanding position surveying the streets ahead to assist his mistress out of the carriage. The mansion in front of them enjoyed one of the best views in London, overlooking Hyde Park, and its magnificent five-storey façade was a testament to the vision and deep pockets of Captain Thomas Leyland, who had commissioned the palatial residence in 1852. It was now occupied by his grandson, Captain Herbert Naylor-Leyland, and his American wife, Jennie. Number 3 Albert Gate represented all that was great about the English aristocracy and had established itself as a bustling centre for opulent entertainments during the Season. Jennie had been instrumental in this transformation of the house from just another grand building to a dynamic political and social salon. Her success ensured that her husband’s career remained on course, despite his consistent attempts to sabotage it with unwise political decisions, and she maintained her beneficial links to Bertie by having the space and means to entertain grandly. From Minnie’s point of view, Jennie was one of her most successful protégés; now they just had to ensure that her sister Josephine continued the family tradition.
Both Jennie and Herbert had been dangerously ill with typhoid fever for some time, causing London society to speculate on whether they would survive. It was believed that the disease had taken hold after they had eaten oysters, and it had raged violently with no signs of retreating. But eventually they had begun to recover and, with diligent care and attention, appeared to be over the worst. Minnie had been in close contact with Jennie’s parents, Mr and Mrs W S Chamberlain, asking for regular updates on Jennie’s health, as had Consuelo Manchester. They had both known the Chamberlains for over a decade, after Jennie had stunned the aristocracy by capturing the attentions of Bertie and therefore compelling the whole of society immediately to accept her into its circle.
Jennie’s impact had been part of Minnie’s plan, of course, which she had formulated the moment her mother had written informing her of the Chamberlains’ arrival in London in 1882 and appraising her of the details of Jennie Chamberlain’s background. Jennie was a nineteen-year-old debutante from Cleveland, Ohio, whose father had become an influential judge after a successful career as a lawyer. Although this profession afforded the Chamberlains a comfortable existence, the family had been thrust into the realms of the nouveaux riches when they inherited a large fortune from Jennie’s uncle, Selah Chamberlain, who had derived his wealth from Minnesota state bonds and Cleveland’s booming real estate. The family’s wealth and standing in the community immediately afforded them the position of leaders of Cleveland’s provincial society, yet this failed to satisfy the Chamberlains. Hoping to conquer the highest society that America could offer, they headed to Newport, where Mrs Astor and the most elite members of the New York upper classes spent their summers. Marietta told Minnie that Jennie’s debut in Newport had been a triumph. The New York Sun described her as having eyes that were ‘liquid blue shaded by dark lashes’1 and features of a ‘classic Grecian cast’2.
Despite this success, New York’s drawing-room doors would not open so easily for the Chamberlains and a trip to Europe to cement their social credentials was considered prudent if they didn’t want to fall into the trap of attempting an assault on New York without the proper preparation. Many Swells had unwittingly sabotaged their efforts to be accepted by the elite by making their move too early. Consequently, families would use less fashionable resorts than Newport, such as Saratoga Springs or Bar Harbor, as a practice ground and to establish connections before committing to a summer in Mrs Astor’s backyard. The Chamberlains had received a warm initial welcome in Newport, but it was in no way certain that this would extend to a place on the influential guest lists during New York’s winter Season. Cosmopolitan acknowledged that for the daughters of the nouveaux riches a period spent abroad would enhance their marital prospects: ‘Had she lived in America, the chances of her marrying into the real society of this country would have been small.’3
Those society matrons with experience, such as Marietta, agreed and would advise ambitious families like the Chamberlains to be patient, as such manoeuvres could not be rushed. Far better to head to Europe to experience the culture, learn finesse and have the chance to build alliances with the French, Italian or English nobility before attempting a calculated move on New York. Many families had been ostracised for having the audacity to assume they had been accepted when they had been merely tolerated, and once they had been shunned by society it was almost impossible to claw their way back in.
Frederick Townsend Martin remembered in his memoirs Jennie Chamberlain’s trip to Europe, where she presented herself to Minnie: ‘After her debut, Mrs Chamberlain took her daughter to England, and presented herself with a letter of introduction to Lady Paget, who at once arranged a dinner to meet the Prince of Wales.’4 The beautiful and flirtatious Jennie had been a conscientious student, filing away in her pretty little head every piece of advice that Minnie bestowed upon her, ready to spring into action as soon as an opportunity presented itself. She proved so successful that many started to whisper that she must have had help. Speculation of this kind with regard to all American heiresses endured for many years, with one reporter for Harper’s Magazine writing, ‘One is almost tempted at times to believe that there must somewhere be a school in existence given up to teaching American women how to be English, and to coaching them in all the subjects required for social honours.’5
Minnie had perhaps underestimated just how successful Jennie would be at charming Bertie, and became concerned by worrying rumours of his infatuation with her. Jennie quickly gained a reputation and was variously known as ‘American Beauty’ or ‘Morning Glory’. Bertie and the Chamberlains were spotted at fashionable European holiday resorts such as Homburg and Cannes and there were reports of a rendezvous between the pair in Paris at the Hotel Balmoral. The flirtation appeared to progress apace and, although the Chamberlains continued to chaperone their daughter when she was invited to Sandringham in Norfolk, the normally impassive Princess Alexandra, who made a habit of ignoring her husband’s dalliances, showed her displeasure at the situation when she nicknamed Jennie ‘Miss Chamberpots’. The rumours surrounding Jennie gained her notoriety but not the virtuous, respectable reputation that was vital for acceptance into high society on either side of the Atlantic. For a time it looked as if Minnie’s meticulous planning had been in vain.
When the Chamberlains retreated back to America in 1883, a number of shops were selling portraits of Jennie, along with Bertie’s longstanding mistress, Lillie Langtry, to the general public. Realising the gravity of the situation and the implications of Jennie’s portrait being sold alongside Lillie, Jennie’s father took action. He informed the newspapers that any business caught selling Jennie’s picture would almost certainly face prosecution. Her behaviour had been reckless and had almost derailed the family’s plans for social acceptance. They briefly abandoned their plans to infiltrate New York society and instead spent time in Cleveland and on extended tours of Europe. They had made great inroads there before and it was certainly true that Europeans had a less puritanical view of morality than their American contemporaries. They requested help to rebuild their social position from their American friends in England, but it would be another six years before Jennie would finally marry.
In 1889, Captain Herbert Naylor-Leyland and Jennie Chamberlain of Cleveland, Ohio, were married, with Jennie’s sister Josephine as one of their bridesmaids. In June 1889, Mrs Chamberlain and Josephine were presented at the Queen’s Drawing Room, their journey to the upper echelons of the nobility complete. The Chamberlains, now gloriously content with their new status, abandoned all attempts to be accepted by Mrs Astor and her associates and instead made a permanent move to England. When Minnie moved on from her first marital home at Halkin Street, London, it was the Chamberlains who quickly moved in.
In contrast with the mansion that Jennie now occupied, with its large drawing room, impressive ballroom and gallery housing paintings by Brueghel, Gainsborough, Rubens, Tintoretto and Van Dyck, 35 Belgrave Square paled into insignificance. Minnie must have found it hard to believe how far her young apprentice had come, but she could be proud of her own achievements as well as basking in the light of her protégé’s, and the money she earned would always be hers. Never would she have to rely on the whims and mood of her husband to secure a paltry amount of pin money. Now that divorce was becoming more acceptable, marriage was ever more precarious. If a gentleman found himself in possession of an errant or inferior wife, he could simply divorce her, rescinding her position, money and access to ancestral seats. Minnie had been party to negative rumours about the Naylor-Leylands’ marriage, which had been heightened by Herbert’s sudden resignation from the Conservative party owing to his sympathies with the Liberal cause, triggering a by-election. Minnie had predicted a bumpy ride for the Naylor-Leylands while they navigated their way through those two scandals, which were being played out in the press for all of England to comment on. Then she had heard that Herbert and Jennie had contracted typhoid fever, which she had to admit was not awful timing, if such a thing was destined your way. The Evening Telegram reported on their progress speculating that: ‘…the resignation was due to other than political reasons, and that it was in some way or other connected with divorce proceedings against his wife, which proceedings have been the gossip of clubs and papers for some time past. Rumour has it that Captain Leyland even went so far as to direct his solicitors to prepare to serve a citation. While this was supposed to be going on, the Captain and Mrs Leyland fell ill with typhoid fever, and both were nursed to convalescence at the Naylor-Leyland mansion, Albert Gate. It was during the wearisome days of this disease, said to have been occasioned in their case by eating oysters, that a reconciliation was effected, and with complete convalescence came domestic peace.’6
Minnie was pleased that common sense had prevailed and harmony had been restored. Divorce was bad for business and Minnie had been anxious to enquire about Jennie’s sister Josephine’s progress in the matrimonial market. She was now twenty-five years old and generally considered plainer than her ravishing sister. Minnie had heard rather concerning stories about Josephine’s lack of deportment or elegance and her unflattering features.
‘She has been carefully kept in the background and will never make such a furor as did her handsome sister. Josephine was known long ago as the “flamingo”, because of her length of limb and her unvarying scarlet frocks. The “flamingo” was at that time a source of immense entertainment at a late dinner… and she used to skip into the dining room, a haggard, careworn expression on her childish face, contrasting so eloquently with the madly mirthful motion of her feet.’7
What she lacked in beauty, Josephine more than made up for in experience. She had grown up in her sister’s shadow, but during the whole period she had made a careful study of the British aristocracy and had attended endless occasions where royalty were present, standing her in good stead for duties as a wife of a viscount or lord. In 1894, a reporter for the New York Evening Post described Josephine as looking girlishly sweet at a reception held by Queen Victoria. They continued describing her toilette: a white crêpe-de-chine Empire-style gown, trimmed with small fringed ruching, which was evidently very becoming.
Minnie had met Josephine many times and found her perfectly charming, as she should be, given the influences she had had. Everything was a bit less about Josephine than her sister. She was quieter than Jennie, less fair, less charming, less interesting, but she would still make a good wife for any gentleman and Minnie knew the Chamberlains were determined to procure her a good match. Jennie, who had been on a rollercoaster of fortune, seemed to be on the rise again, and her younger sister was riding, as usual, on her coat-tails. This visit to Albert Gate would be a good opportunity for Minnie to counsel Jennie in the ways of the aristocracy once more and to remind her gently that she was always there whenever the Chamberlains needed assistance.