Lies, Damned Lies and the Carnarvons
By William Cross, FSA Scot
A Book Review By Michael Keyton
I have, in the past, referred to Will Cross as a truffle hound, ferreting out the hidden or obscure in the archives, and here again, the footnotes prove an evocative joy. In this book, however, Will Cross is less the truffle hound with a yen for the occasional ferret, more the rottweiler. Lies, Damned Lies and the Carnarvons is a ruthless demolition job on what a family might prefer to remain hidden. And yes, to play Devil’s Advocate for the moment, families do have a right to keep their skeletons tightly locked up, but only as much right as the researcher has to winkle them out.
The book starts off on what seem relatively trivial, but
even these small things—such as the Earl of Carnarvon’s near fatal car accident
on an obscure German road, is meticulously researched, along with what at first
seems to be a meaningless untruth in the official accounts—ie that the incident
occurred in 1901, that Carnarvon recuperated in Egypt, and there discovered a
lifelong interest in tombs and archaeology.
William Cross however proves beyond doubt that the
car accident occurred in 1909 and conjectures the motive behind the shuffling
of dates. Lord Carnarvon was in
The book is a real potpourri—not all of it fragrant—of
well researched tittle-tattle and gossip, totally gripping but too much to
incorporate in a review.
I loved, for example the picture conjured up of the Earl
and Countess at an archaeological dig
‘Even in the baking hot wilderness of the deserts of
Neither deigned to do any digging. ‘They liked to watch,
and sat under heavy canvas in the shade, protected from the sun and sandstorms,
relaxing in idle comfort, reading and drinking mint tea. A native boy with a
stick was on guard to deter snakes, with another to swat flies.’
Almina was an efficient and dutiful wife who found sexual
relief where she could—even at the age of seventy with a heating engineer.
By then, her husband, the Earl of Carnarvon was long dead; a
victim of an insect bite and the curse of King Tut—a popular theory of the time
and one that conveniently glossed over the more likely cause—the sins of the
flesh having caught up with him at last.
As ever, Almina proved the dutiful wife. When in the last
stages of his illness, she flew with an amenable doctor
in a small plane to his sick bed and put him out of his
misery.
An experienced nurse after World War I who had long
advocated euthanasia and was conversant with morphine, it is suggested and
hinted at by those at the time that she quietly and mercifully put her husband
to sleep.
Unlucky with her choice of husband, though she made the
best of it, Almina was equally unlucky with her children. Her son-in-law took a
profound dislike of her and made it difficult for Almina and her daughter
Evelyn to meet.
But the real rascal was her son, the new ‘Porchey’ and
the future Sixth Earl who showed little love for his mother - possibly because
she spent much of the money he hoped to inherit.
He was a bounder of the first order and ended up as the
archetypal ‘dirty old man.’ Contracting mumps as a child, may or may
not have made him sterile. His second wife the actress Tilly Losch strongly
suggests he was, and rumours abound that his first wife, who he drove to
alcoholism and a nervous breakdown, provided him with an heir with
the help of artificial insemination and perhaps a willing butler. It was,
apparently, a common practise at the time, at least amongst those aristocrats
desperate for an heir.
Sterile he may or may not have been, but an arrogant cad
he was without doubt. One peeress was warned against spending a night at
Highclere, the Earl’s castle, because of his propensity to appear stark naked
from a wardrobe ‘brandishing his male member like a pirate’s cutlass.’ The
peeress added that it was ‘exactly the same at Blenheim. Porchey
Carnarvon and Bert Marlborough were alike, barrack room roughs, both together
in the Hussars Regiment. They treated their women like their horses, and much
worse.’
According to Michael Lewis, the Earl’s Chimney Sweep and
one who knew the estate well, “His Lordship went around knocking and
calling out at cottage doors – inside, the girls knew what he wanted and
shuddered but conceded. Any refusal would have resulted in their family being
thrown off the estate. . .It was horrible…The Earl was not a good man, he was
vile."
He ended up as a rather sad nuisance, struck down by
Parkinsons and housed in Edgecombe Nursing Home in Newbury where he continued
to behave disgracefully to the end.
Poor old Almina, meanwhile ended up in a terraced house
in
LIES DAMNED LIES AND THE CARNARVONS
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Liverpool born and bred, Author of " The Gift" series, "Tales from the Murenger", "The Clay Cross Chronicles" and many others.
https://www.amazon.com/Michael-Keyton/e/B016S5RBI4
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