Such were the bare bones of the rumour, which spread like a forest fire throughout Europe and screeched in all the newspapers. There was never any real truth to support it, except the flirtation, which was real enough, "such as is continually going on without any serious result between half the youths and girls in London".28 The Duke of Beaufort, forgetting the dramatic proportions of his own youthful passion for Miss Wilson, was indignant; he caused a formal contraction of the story to appear in The Times, but it was too late. The damage was done. "There is such a disposition to believe such stories and such a reluctance to renounce such a belief once entertained . . . this calumny will affect the lady more or less as long as she lives." She was not pregnant, but "it is probably true enough that she behaved with very little prudence, delicacy, or reserve, for she is a very ill-behaved girl, ready for anything that her caprice or passions excite her to do". Like father, like daughter.
The worst of it was that the Queen herself believed the entire story. One would have thought that she would have known better, after the recent unpopularity she had incurred by her shameful treatment of poor Lady Flora Hastings, who had died partly as a result of the scandal the Queen provoked. But no. She forbade the Court to speak to or acknowledge Lady Augusta. When the Duchess of Cambridge (Prince George's mother) took Lady Augusta to Windsor, all the young ladies at court turned their heads to the wall. The Queen exploded in a violent temper. How dare the Duchess attempt to bring respectability to Lady Augusta by having her appear at Windsor! It was scandalous that she should even be in the castle! The Queen knew that the stories were true, she said. The Duchess strode out, seething, and the Queen returned to her prudish husband. Prince George gave his word that there was no truth in the matter, to which Prince Albert grudgingly replied that he and the Queen "supposed they must believe that it was so". Neither Cambridge nor Beaufort was satisfied with this. Beaufort approached Peel, who was scared of the Queen and dared not raise the subject. Finally, he summoned his courage, and the Queen allowed that she was entirely satisfied and wanted to hear no more about it.29 Beaufort boiled with rage and indignation for months afterwards. When Prince Albert suggested his son Lord Worcester as Lord-in-Waiting, Beaufort sent a peremptory refusal. As for Lady Augusta, she married the Austrian Ambassador, Baron Neumann, the following year (1844); foreigners were less touchy about scandal, and Neumann, being the son of Metternich's father's gardener, was in no position to assume a holier- than-thou attitude. (Metternich's father had also sported with the gardener's wife.) Augusta died in 1850. Three years later the Duke himself, a founder member of the Garrick Club, died, and the dukedom passed to his son, 8th Duke of Beaufort (1824-1899), whom we know as "The Blue Duke". (The Beaufort Hunt wears blue instead of the usual red).
Like his grandson, the Blue Duke was before all else the best known sporting figure in England. Not only a Master of Foxhounds, but a first-class shot, angler, racing man. He edited the Badminton Library of Sports and Pastimes, a collection of handbooks covering everything from archery to dancing, and the game we know as "Badminton" was invented at his house. He possessed the same romantic energies as his sisters and father, and was well-known for the number of his mistresses. His duchess, moreover, accepted their existence with exemplary calm. A fine example of this marble reserve at work is given in E. F. Benson's book As We Were. "The Duke of Beaufort was away, but there was a party in the house, and one day the butler told the Duchess as they went into lunch that a case had arrived for His Grace, which he had unpacked: it contained a picture, and he wanted to know where he was to hang it. So the whole party went into the corridor, when lunch was over, to see the picture, and there they found the portrait of a very pretty young lady whom everybody knew to be the Duke's mistress. Was that an awkward situation ? Not in the least. The Duchess with complete self- possession looked admiringly at it, and said, 'Is it not charming? A fancy portrait, I suppose,' and without a grin or a wink or a whisper, they all looked at the fancy portrait, and liked it immensely. It would do very well, thought the Duchess, just where it was, hung on the wall there. Then as they moved quietly on, she changed her mind. 'His Grace might like it in his own room perhaps,' she said to her butler. 'You had better hang it there.' That was all. Reticence and dignity had perfectly solved the method of dealing with this awkwardness, and when the Duke came home there was the fancy portrait hanging in his room as a pleasant surprise for him."30
The Duke, it appears, had far less self-control than the Duchess, and would turn blubbering to his sons when the mistress ditched him for someone else.31 Perhaps the spectacle of father's heaving shoulders and mother's stately reserve influenced the next generation of Beaufort children more than they knew; two of the 8th Duke's sons were deeply involved in the one kind of emotional attachment which the Victorians icily forbade - the homosexual kind.
Lord Henry Somerset (1849-1932) was the Duke's second son. His career was conventional enough to begin with: member of Parliament for Monmouthshire in 1871, married in 1872, appointed Comptroller of the Royal Household in 1874. His wife was Isabel, whose mother Lady Somers was one of the fabulous Pattle sisters. Virginia Pattle had been so beautiful that she was mobbed and followed the way film-stars are a century later. Her every move was noted by the Press. The same family were to give us Virginia Woolf and Vanessa Bell, the former being named after her great-aunt Virginia Pattle, Lady Somers. Of Lady Somers's two daughters, one became Adeline Duchess of Bedford, and the other married Lord Henry Somerset. Presumably the pressures of convention made Lord Henry enter the alliance, for there can be no doubt that his inclinations lay elsewhere. What he did not bargain for was a mother-in-law who, in addition to being an astonishing beauty, was a meddlesome, domineering, frightful busybody. At the wedding, people noticed how the bride clung to her mother when it was time to leave for the honeymoon.32 This did not augur well. Lord Henry did his duty by his wife, producing the required offspring to satisfy public (and family) morals, but his tenderest love was reserved for men. One in particular, a commoner called Harry Smith, who was seventeen when his relationship with Lord Henry began, provoked a disastrous response. Of course, Lady Henry knew what her husband was up to, and she was not made to suffer thereby; had she kept quiet, there is no reason why she should not have remained comfortable and reasonably content for the rest of her life; more than that no Victorian lady had a right to hope. But she made the mistake of revealing all to mother, who sparked off like a catherine-wheel. "Lady Somers descended on the situation, in a whirlwind of French horror and dramatic tableau, and persuaded her daughter not to spend another night in her husband's house."33 Naturally, a public scandal ensued, out of which nobody emerged triumphant. The London clubs began to whisper about the "foul charges" which Isabel and her mother were spreading about London against Lord Henry. Isabel claimed in public that her husband was guilty of a crime mentioned only in the Bible, and the Victorian drawing-rooms fell hushed in mute horror. She sued for a separation, stating the reasons, and she won her case. Lord Henry was denied custody of his child. He resigned his post as Comptroller of the Royal House, and took the only course open to him; he fled the country in 1879. His wife was ostracised by society, much to her amazement, because, though she was the "innocent" party, she had sinned against the unwritten law, "thou must not admit the truth". She had mentioned the unmentionable and brought disrepute upon the head of the Beaufort house, when all could have been kept quiet. She would have done better to copy her mother-in- law, the imperturbable Duchess, rather than her excitable mother. From now on, she received no further invitations, was no longer welcomed in polite society, and, of course, could never marry- again. She retired to the country, where she devoted herself to looking after drunkards.
Meanwhile, Lord Henry took refuge in Italy, and there wrote some beautiful poems celebrating his love for Harry Smith, who he admitted quite candidly was "dearer to me than my life".34 He was never to see Harry again after the scandal, but his poems were published in L
ondon by Chatto & Windus under the title Songs of Adieu ten years later (1889), and in them he expresses the poignancy of a desperate affection which though killed by events yet refuses to die. He pleaded with Harry to join him :
"I cannot live without thee - oh, come back !
Come back to him that, weeping, waits for thee;
For life is death without thee - oh, come back!
Dear love, thou art the very life of me.
i
"Hast thou no care that, ebbing all too fast,
My youth is scorched and scarred with burning tears? Hath thy hard heart no memories of the past, No longings for the love of happier years ?
"Come back ! Come back! I beg thee from this boon - Oh, turn thine ear and hearken to my cry — Come back! come back ! and come, dear love, full soon, For if thou come not soon I needs must die."35
Harry did not, could not, come back. The cruel hypocrisy of the time had despatched him as far away as possible from polite gaze, to New Zealand, where he died in 1902. Lord Henry, now exiled for nearly twenty-five years, thought England might be ready to receive him again, and chose to come for Edward VII's coronation. He did not reckon with his mother-in-law's vindictiveness. She set private detectives upon him, who watched his every move, and she informed Scotland Yard that the monster was again at large.36 Presumably, his own family at Badminton was not ready to forgive him either, for he appears to have stayed in London only a few days, to return once more to Florence, a saddened man.
Lord Henry's younger brother was Lord Arthur Somerset, born in 1851, a former Guards officer, and Assistant Equerry to the Prince of Wales (Edward VII). In 1889 there erupted the scandal already mentioned in a previous chapter, concerning a male brothel in Cleveland Street, frequented on the one hand by adolescent telegraph boys, who were paid for their services, and on the other by members of the aristocracy, who did the paying. The case would not have reached the proportions it did were it not for the assiduous probing of the North London Press, an organ since retreated into obscurity. The newspaper named some clients of the establishment, among them Lord Euston (son of the Duke of Grafton), who successfully sued; by implication the Duke of Clarence, eldest son of the Prince of Wales, and heir to the throne (he died in time, and was succeeded as heir by his brother, George V); and Lord Arthur Somerset, who was known in Cleveland Street as "Mr Brown".
A police constable called Sladden observed "Mr Brown" call at 19 Cleveland Street on 9th July and on 13th July 1889. Two weeks later, on 25th July, P.C. Sladden went with two of the boys, Swins- cow (aged fifteen) and, incredibly, Thickbroom (aged seventeen) to Piccadilly, where they identified "Mr Brown" in the street as the man they had both been to bed with at Cleveland Street. P.C. Sladden then followed the suspect to Knightsbridge barracks, where he was identified as Lord Arthur Somerset."7
The same day, the papers were sent to the Director of Public Prosecutions, in whose opinion the evidence was sufficient to prosecute Lord Arthur for gross indecency. Another boy called Newlove had testified to the police that Lord Arthur "had to do with me on several occasions there"38 and a fourth, a "good-looking curly- headed youth" of fifteen called Algernon Alleys, had been kept by Somerset for the past two years. There were a number of compromising letters to Alleys, which were hurriedly destroyed, but the police did have two of the postal orders which Lord Arthur had sent him, as well as sworn statements. The Prime Minister was informed, and he sent to the Lord Chancellor for an opinion; Lord Arthur should not be prosecuted, came the reply.
Meanwhile, the Prince of Wales, who was a personal friend to Lord Arthur, heard the rumours and refused to believe them. "I won't believe it," he said, "any more than I should if they accused the Archbishop of Canterbury", an unfortunate comparison since the Archbishop's sons were every one of them brothers in inclination. The Prince thought any man capable of such behaviour "an unfortunate lunatic".39 Whatever his reasons (and his own son's name had also been whispered), the Prince of Wales brought some pressure to bear, and Lord Arthur Somerset was permitted to escape. The Chief Commissioner of Police suspected that this would happen. On 19th September he wrote to the Director of Public Prosecutions, "my impression is that it is by no means certain we shall be authorised to prosecute L.A.S. Steps will certainly be taken to remove him from the country and consequently 'Society'."40 That is in fact what occurred. Lord Arthur exiled himself to Boulogne on 17th or 18th October, with the connivance of authority higher placed than the Director of Public Prosecutions, and remained beyond the jurisdiction of English courts. The warrant for his arrest was not issued until 12th November. Only once did he return to England, when he was smartly told to make himself scarce again. The man who ran the brothel, Hammond, also escaped abroad. Two who had acted as procurers for the others, Veck and Newlove, were prosecuted, found guilty, and sentenced to nine months' and four months' hard labour respectively, but not before Lord Arthur had tried to get them out of the country too, through the mediacy of his solicitor, leading to another trial. Newlove was eighteen years old. What the Duke of Beaufort made of all this, we are not told.
The 9th Duke of Beaufort (1847-1924), elder brother of Lords Henry and Arthur, succeeded his father in 1899. Of him it is recorded that he strongly objected to the Gloucestershire Hussars (of which he was Colonel) being encamped in undignified fashion on Salisbury Plain and having to wear khaki; the Boer War had just finished, and austerity was the order of the day. "Because there has been a war in South Africa," proclaimed the Duke, "I do not see why we should be condemned to spend our time in wet tents and convicts' dress."41
His son was the 10th Duke of Beaufort, 1900-1984, the "Master". He also had half a dozen other titles, decorations from Norway, Sweden, Portugal, France, Belgium, Rumania, Ethiopia, and presided over that sub-county of Gloucestershire commonly known as "Beaufortshire". Beaufortshire is distinguished by a membership totally committed to the country life, with mud on their boots and hot air puffing from their nostrils, gentlemen farmers and retired military men, eligible daughters in expensive twin-sets giving all their attention to eldest sons and ignoring everyone else, and the whole community speaking with an unmistakable clipped nasal twang. They move about in large cars built for comfort not speed, never raise their voices except in the hunt, and return to elegant comfortable homes, full of old rugs, log fires, and house-dogs (The Duke himself had about a dozen house-dogs, and was President of the Battersea Dogs' Home). The Duke's day was a strenuous one, as befitted a man grown to strength in the healthy country air. He was often called "as tough as nails".42 His routine involved getting up at seven o'clock, and riding round the estate before breakfast to see what was going on. He knew the 120 men who worked on his estate far better than any factory boss knows his staff. No decision concerning the estate was taken without the Duke's active authority. He answered all his own letters. He was President of the Federation of Boys' Clubs, of the Outward Bound School, and of every society that has anything to do with horses. The only one that he had no time for is the Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, which had the cheek to ask His Grace to treat with care the horses that were to draw the coronation coach in 1953. He replied that he knew how to treat horses, thank you. The Duke was Chancellor of the University of Bristol from 1966 to 1970, an appointment which provoked violent opposition from the students; clashes with the police marred the installation, and decorated the front page of all newspapers. Even The Times joined in the attack, and declared that it did not think the appointment was a wise choice.43 However, the Duke rode it out, and was finally a very popular Chancellor indeed. He was not a man to succumb to pressures of any sort.
Anyone who travelled on an express train from London to South Wales, as I have had to do, might have been astonished that the train stopped briefly at a tiny station called Badminton, where usually no one would get off or on, and only two houses were in view. I always wondered by what anomaly this situation occurred. I now discover that the station was built in 1
903 to oblige the then Duke of Beaufort in fair exchange for the Duke's permission to lay tracks across his land. Beaufort said to the Great Western Railway, in effect, you can run your railway track across my land if you guarantee that four trains per day will stop there. The Duke had the additional right to stop any other train that he wished, if he or his guests wanted to travel to London. The station was built just one mile from Badminton House, with the Duke's crest on the wall, and the stationmaster's office carpeted in red; the Queen used this as a waiting-room. With the demise of the train in favour of the motorcar as a popular means of transport, the railways lost money, and had to economise. In the face of severe financial need, the old promise to the Duke of Beaufort had to go the way of all privilege; Badminton station was closed in 1968.
The Duke was one of the foremost sportsmen in England. He had been President of the M.C.C., of Bristol Rovers Football Club, and of the British Olympic Association. But of course it is as the Master of Foxhounds that he is best remembered. Until he retired to the rear of the pack in 1966, the sight of the Duke of Beaufort at the head of the hunt was one of the greatest spectacles to be seen in England. He devoted an extraordinary amount of time and energy to keeping his hounds the finest pack in the land. His ancestors were largely responsible (though not solely) for the establishment of foxhunting in this country in the mid-eighteenth century, as a replacement to stag-hunting. (When James I and the Earl of Worcester hunted, it was stags they were after.) Two hunts soon had a reputation above the others, and they were both ducal; the Duke of Rutland's Belvoir Hunt, and the Duke of Beaufort's Badminton Hunt. Beaufort has the edge now because his hounds have rather more stamina and more bone, and also because the reigning Duke has always been Master of the hunt which bears his name. The Beauforts have a rare uncanny feeling for the hunt. It was said of the 8th Duke that he "had an intuitive perception, more animal than human, of what may be called the line of chase".44
The Dukes Page 29
