Lady Constance Lytton Read online

  In 1848, Rosina heard that twenty-year-old Emily was suffering from typhoid, and muscled her way into the boarding house where her daughter lay dying. In a scene worthy of Edward’s most lurid fiction, there was a shouting match over Emily’s deathbed in which Rosina accused her ex-husband of neglect and murder. Rosina would not go quietly, and turned to literature, not just for financial support, but for revenge. Writing about her own position illustrated broader points about the precarious position of women in the Victorian age. In 1839, she published a merciless portrait of Edward in her novel Cheveley, or The Man of Honour. A series of novels was to follow: increasingly bitter satires of her husband, his family and their friends. She thought it unfair that while his books were bringing him fame and fortune, she was kept on an allowance of just £400 a year (though to put this in context, it represents something more like £20,000 today).8 Time did not diminish her righteous fury. In 1851, when Queen Victoria attended a performance of his play Not So Bad As We Seem, Rosina wrote to Prince Albert threatening to pelt her with eggs (and began to advertise an alternative play, Even Worse Than We Seem). When Edward stood for election in Hertfordshire in 1858 Rosina appeared at the hustings to shame him. There is another legend about this scene which has Edward fainting at the sight of his ex-wife, dressed in Liberal yellow, climbing up on the platform and listing his crimes against her to a cheering crowd. ‘Fiend, villain, monster, cowardly wretch, outcast,’ she – allegedly – said. ‘I am told you have been sent to the colonies. If they knew as much about you as I do they would have sent you there long ago.’9 (He was being made Secretary for the Colonies.) Bulwer-Lytton won the election but felt humiliated. He hit back by claiming that Rosina was insane, and had her committed to an asylum.

  Rosina’s story is a stark reminder of the absolute power of men and utter powerlessness of women in the mid-nineteenth century. Children, money, even freedom: all could be taken away on the say-so of a man. All he needed was two signatures from the medical profession – which Edward, with his money, power and influence, found easy to obtain. In the asylum, Rosina went on hunger strike in an effort to prove that she was of sound mind. She only gave in and ate again when it was pointed out to her that this would be used as evidence of her insanity.10 Fortunately for Rosina, her female friends were outraged at the way she was treated. She may have been angry and resentful – and with good cause – but she was not mad. They campaigned for her release and she was let out after three weeks. Bulwer-Lytton’s case was not helped by the fact that he had been advised by a John Conolly, an asylum reformer who subsequently got in trouble when it was discovered that asylums were actually paying him for referrals. Rosina’s experience may have helped inspire The Woman in White: Wilkie Collins moved in similar circles to Bulwer-Lytton and it is impossible that he would not have been aware of this cause célèbre.11 Rosina read this book and wrote to Collins:

  The great failure of your book is the villain; Count Fosco is a very poor one, and when next you want a character of that sort I trust you will not disdain to come to me. The man is alive and constantly under my gaze. In fact he is my own husband.12

  Their son Robert was hopelessly caught in the middle of this acrimony. With the death of his sister, he had lost his closest companion and was almost totally friendless. Edward had visited him just twice a year through his childhood. Despite this neglect, Robert idolised and adored this absent father, and submitted to his wishes even as an adult. After being sent to Harrow, he spent lonely holidays at school, with a tutor, or with his father’s friend John Forster. Best remembered as Dickens’s friend and biographer, Forster took the young Robert under his wing and nurtured his interest in poetry and literature. Robert was grateful for the attention and the two remained close as Robert grew up. After the scandalous asylum episode, Robert took Rosina out of the country to the Pyrenees in order to try to restore some semblance of peace. Instead, he found himself right in the centre of the quarrel, both parents expecting his allegiance. After three months in Europe, Rosina and Robert fell out in Paris. Robert gave up and went home. He never saw his mother again.

  Meanwhile, what was Robert to make of his own life? Encouraged by John Forster, Robert hoped to be a poet. Edward, though, wouldn’t have it. ‘I don’t think whatever your merit, the world would allow two of the same name to have both a permanent reputation in literature,’ he wrote.13 Instead, Robert was sent into the diplomatic service. Aged just eighteen, he went to work for his uncle William, Edward’s older brother Baron Dalling, who was then ambassador to the United States. He later followed his uncle to Florence and then began a steady rise up the ranks in his own right. But he continued to write poetry and in Florence, his talent was discovered and nurtured through friendship with Robert Browning and Elizabeth Barrett Browning. His first volume of poetry was published under the pseudonym Owen Meredith in 1855 and was quietly well received. His most successful and lasting work was Lucille, a novel in verse, published 1860. But his writing increasingly had to take a back seat to his public service.

  Robert entered into European diplomatic society enthusiastically. He was eccentric, dressing ‘in the fashion of his father’s day with bell-bottomed trousers and square-cut toes to his shoes and a good deal of jewellery’,14 but he was charming and attractive, blessed with a natural ease and grace that helped him both personally and professionally. With so few family members to rely on, he was eager to make good friends.15 In Europe, he discovered women. There was at least one serious relationship in Florence and another during his next post at The Hague, which eventually resulted in an engagement. Edward at first refused to countenance the marriage and by the time he came around, the young woman herself had changed her mind. Robert’s next post was in Vienna, where he spent four years and became close friends with the ambassador’s wife, Lady Georgina Bloomfield. Lady Bloomfield saw Robert needed a wife, so when Robert went home on leave in 1864, she sent him to visit her sister, Elizabeth Villiers, a widow then living with her last unmarried daughter, Edith.

  Lady Bloomfield thought Edith Villiers would be a perfect diplomatic wife and she was correct. Edith came from a long line of aristocrats: one of her ancestresses had been a mistress of King William III.16 Edith’s father, Edward, had been the brother of Lord Clarendon, the Foreign Secretary. When Edward died in 1843, Lord Clarendon invited his widow, Elizabeth, and her four children to live on his estate in Hertfordshire. Elizabeth, already suffering serious financial difficulties, gratefully accepted.

  When Robert met Edith, two of her sisters had recently married. Teresa, married to Charles Earle, would become a major part of Constance’s life, known fondly as ‘Aunt T’. Edith’s twin sister, yet another Elizabeth, had married the diplomat Henry Loch. The family story goes that both twins were in love with Henry and he accidentally proposed to the wrong woman but was either too proud to admit his mistake or too gentlemanly to go back on his word.17 Regardless, he married Elizabeth, and Edith pined.

  Edith was incredibly beautiful. Around this time she was painted by G. F. Watts in a Pre-Raphaelite portrait which became famous and much admired. Perhaps because she was better known for her looks, she has been treated harshly by Robert’s biographers: ‘She loved him too uncritically to be of any intellectual stimulus to him … she had no originality of mind, no intellectual sparkle,’ says one (her own granddaughter). Because she did not come from the same sort of literary family, these writers have considered her relatively stupid. Of course, Edith had no formal education apart from the music, drawing and dancing, which, together with winters in Europe, were essential for girls of her class. She is allowed to be ‘sweet tempered, gentle, gracious and tactful’18 but these traits are undervalued, and her contribution to Robert’s career has been seriously underestimated. Not by Constance, though, who truly appreciated and admired her mother. She could see how much Robert had benefited from Edith’s influence. Around 1892, reflecting on her family history, she wrote to her cousin Adela that it was a

  sheer miracle that
father came forth from such generations of undesirables … the whole family history, as one looks back on it, gives me an awed sense of the fearful power of wrong-doing and of the yet more wondrous power of right doing … if there ever was a crude moral tale, it was grandfather’s life.

  For Constance, ‘the great turning point in generations of misery’ was when ‘mother married into our family … an upright, conscientious, dutiful, law-abiding, sane and normal woman! Whatever her shortcomings, her outlook on life was high-minded and unselfish in aim.’19

  Edith was everything that Robert was looking for, and they soon became engaged. Predictably enough, Edward was also opposed to this marriage. This time, it was because Lord Clarendon was one of his political opponents – and a local one to boot, as Clarendon’s estate was in the same county as Knebworth. Eventually, he was persuaded to allow the wedding to go ahead, though with bad grace. He would not allow the newlyweds to use Knebworth for their honeymoon.

  Edith and Robert then set out for their new lives together in European capitals. She was fortunate in that his postings were relatively undemanding and close to home; her sister Elizabeth had to move to South Africa with Lord Loch. Their marriage was professionally very successful, and seems to have worked personally too, though Robert’s reputation as a flirt was well established and entirely justified. They began in Athens, then moved to Lisbon, Madrid and then Vienna. Here, Robert invited disapproval by taking George Henry Lewes, then on ‘honeymoon’ with his new partner MaryAnn Evans – George Eliot – into the official box. The two couples would become friends and Edith rather surprisingly became a correspondent of George’s – she particularly enjoyed Daniel Deronda.20 Robert would always surround himself with writers, especially poets. His closest friendship was with the poet Wilfred Scawen Blunt, formed in Lisbon when Edith was away in England. Edith disapproved of Blunt and his rackety lifestyle, but he would be a lasting part of their lives (almost with disastrous consequences for one of their daughters).21

  Robert and Edith’s first child, Rowland, was born in August 1865, followed by Elizabeth – known as Bina as a child and Betty as an adult – in June 1867. Their third child, Constance Georgina, was born on 12 February 1869 in Vienna.22 Her second name was a tribute to the great-aunt who had brought her parents together. In the summer of 1871, all the children had whooping cough. Rowland never recovered and died. Eight months later, a second son, Henry, known as ‘Teddy’, was born.

  In the autumn of 1872, Robert spent his leave with his father at Torquay; a reunion which also became a farewell as Edward died early in the New Year. He was at the height of his fame, having outlived his friend Dickens and taken his place as the nation’s most popular author. He left countless essays, reams of poetry and several plays, as well his wildly successful novels. But as literary fashions changed, Bulwer-Lytton was left behind, and he is no longer as widely read as some of his Victorian contemporaries. He was buried in Westminster Abbey, which suggests how successful he had been at hiding his colourful private life. Along with Knebworth, Robert inherited financial responsibility for Edward’s mistresses and children. In 1875, he was in regular correspondence with Marion Lowndes and her daughter Lucy as they asked for more support; in return he asked for Marion’s help in preparing his memoir of Edward.23

  In a terrible echo of Rowland’s death, towards the end of 1872 the children all suffered flu, and this time Teddy died. Just afterwards, on Christmas Day, another daughter, Emily, was born. Robert now seriously considered resigning from the diplomatic service and moving home to Knebworth. He had served his country competently for nearly a quarter of a century but with no great distinction. Finally freed from his father’s long shadow and enormous ego, he could at last devote himself to poetry and see if his talent was as great as his desire. But while he was still considering his future, he received a telegram from Benjamin Disraeli which would change his life. It was an invitation to be the Viceroy of India. ‘I believe if you will accept this high post, you will have an opportunity, not only of serving your country, but of obtaining an enduring fame,’ said the Prime Minister.24

  Robert did not want to accept. Aside from his renewed commitment to poetry, his health wasn’t very good. He battled with depression, and piles made his life a misery. He had already turned down the offer to be the Governor of Madras precisely for this reason. Then there were the children. Having lost two sons already, Edith and Robert were understandably protective of their girls, and worried about the many possible diseases and illnesses. Typhoid, cholera and malaria were major killers, as were smallpox, tetanus and dysentery.25 Edith was also pregnant again.

  But the call to serve at such a high level eventually proved irresistible. To give an idea of just what a significant promotion this was, Robert had been earning £4,400 in his last role at Lisbon, and his salary in India would be £25,000.26 But far more important than the money was the prestige. This was the high point of British rule in India and the glamour and glory associated with the viceroyalty was extremely attractive to Robert. Edith refused to be separated from the children so leaving them at home was not an option, but they consulted various doctors who put their minds at ease about the possible risks to the girls. Once Robert had made up his mind to go, Edith supported him utterly. This was her duty and it was not her place to question his decision, whatever her private feelings might have been.

  One of Robert’s first and most important tasks as viceroy would be to proclaim Queen Victoria the Empress of India. The British public was baffled by Victoria’s preoccupation with India, as she had been living in a permanent state of mourning for years, with seemingly no interest in being Queen of her own country, let alone Empress of another. Acquiring this new title was the start of a process which tempted Victoria back into public life and reconnected her with her people. Aside from organising this ceremony, Robert’s main task – as Disraeli and his Foreign Secretary, Lord Salisbury, made clear – was to bring Afghanistan to heel. Russia was increasingly making trouble in the region, which was a direct threat to India because of the long border they shared. Robert’s assignment was to get relations with Afghanistan on an ‘intimate and friendly’ footing, and ideally to establish a British mission in Afghanistan, which would give the British a more secure footing in the area.27 At the same time, Robert would have to contend with the day-to-day running of this vast subcontinent and effectively address long-standing Indian grievances, without causing undue resentment among the British. Robert had to contend with myriad complicated issues in India, including a growing middle class which was increasingly, and rightly, discontented about its lack of representation in government; a British civil service becoming ever more insular and disconnected from the people it was supposed to be governing; and periodic catastrophes of famine and disease. Change in India was at once extremely rapid and extremely slow. Where it occurred, the impact of new transportation and communication was swift and dramatic, but away from the centres of activity, life in the villages continued much as it had done for centuries.28

  It seems obvious in hindsight, but apparently not at the time, that Robert was hopelessly unprepared for, and totally unsuited to, this immense task. He was charismatic and charming, but had little regard for hierarchy and protocol, features which dominated Anglo-Indian society. Moreover, most of his experience in Europe was irrelevant. He had no direct experience of government and certainly nothing even approaching the scale of Indian rule. Furthermore, having spent so much of his career abroad, he did not have good connections with the British Cabinet to rely on in difficult situations. Instead, Robert confidently assumed that his own instincts, together with Disraeli’s support, would carry him through. He did, however, have something very important going for him: Queen Victoria (unusually) genuinely liked and respected him. This was important, because the Queen took a strong personal interest in India. She wrote in her journal that Robert was ‘a man full of feeling’.29 He was the only person who was allowed to address her in the first person in his let
ters, a breach of protocol that became a mark of their mutual respect and affection.

  Robert now had to go on a crash course in the government of India. It is almost impossible to overstate just how complicated this was. Since the Indian Mutiny in 1857, the Crown had taken over direct rule from the East India Company. Relations between governed and government now appeared stable, but underneath the surface there was still considerable tension. Successive viceroys tried to manage this with a hands-off approach to ruling which was more respectful of Indian customs and traditions, however incomprehensible they were to the British. But it was a mammoth task simply to understand how the administration of this vast continent worked. The new viceroy would have to contend with an advisory council, a legislative council and an executive council, several governors, and nine provinces divided into innumerable districts. Robert was fortunate to find an excellent guide through this maze of bureaucracy in Fitzjames Stephen, brother of Leslie. Fitzjames, who had spent years in the Indian civil service, gave Robert a crash course in Indian government and became Minister of Finance. Robert’s other great ally in India was Richard Strachey, another senior government administrator, who named his son, Lytton Strachey, after Robert.30