Princess Louise to Lady Margaret

Osborne House, Isle of Wight, 31 July 1865

My Very Dearest M.,

What on earth have you done!!!! Your letter arrived yesterday, but needless to say, news of your plight preceded it by some days. I knew at once there must be a scandalous reason for your sudden departure from the metropolis—a view, in case you’ve not seen it, that the somewhat lurid Illustrated London News shares. Why did you not heed my warnings about the press? I told you, M., the price of fame is relentless scrutiny. The newspapers love nothing better than to knock someone from her pedestal, especially when they put her there in the first place. This tale your parents put about of a sudden illness will not be believed. (Though Her Majesty did believe it. Her many chins were shaking with disapproval at the suddenness of your departure, for you know how little my mother tolerates illness as an excuse for avoiding one’s obligations.)

What on earth possessed you to take such extreme measures as to run off? I know you had reservations about the gentleman in question, but I thought you had resigned yourself to taking him on. I cannot condone your behaviour, though I am slightly in awe of your courage. I know that a lecture from me is not what you want to hear, but I would not be your friend if I refrained. You have broken almost every rule of court life and conduct, and you will be crucified if that is discovered. It matters not a whit that you hold Killin in such distaste that you couldn’t bring yourself to marry him. Were he a monster, you would still be castigated for defying your father, and Killin is not a monster.

I wish you had not been so rash! We are both of us, you and I, females who feel emotions intensely, but the difference between us is that you wear your heart on your sleeve. And that is your most heinous crime, in the eyes of the society we inhabit. You must resist the urge to let your heart steer your actions, my dearest friend. If the truth of that night were ever known (whatever it is, I know you left out a great deal of the detail in your letter!), it would be the ruin of you. What’s more, it would generate a scandal that even your family would be hard put to weather. Though I am reluctant to mention it, I must point out that your behaviour affects me, too. As a princess of the realm, my own reputation must be spotless. Her Majesty’s advisers would insist that I discontinue our friendship. Had you remained in London, I would have been obliged to distance myself from you. I am sorry to sound so unfeeling, but I do not make the rules; I am merely obliged to follow them.

That being said, let us adopt a more positive tone. All is not yet completely lost. If anyone knows how to play the game, it is your parents. Your exile may seem harsh, but out of sight in our flighty society is very much out of mind. The attention of the world will move on quickly to the next cause célèbre.

I wish I could be with you to prove that these difficult words are spoken from the heart, but here I am, languishing at Osborne for goodness knows how much longer, and you are at the other end of the country. I am sending you my heartfelt love and some sketches in the hope that my feeble attempts will bring you some cheer. I hope and pray I will see you soon, but the prospects are not good, for the queen is talking of a trip to Coburg in August, where there is to be an unveiling of a statue of dear Papa.

Do not despair.

Your friend now and (hopefully!) always,

Louise