Edward VII

by Catharine Arnold

  Chapter Seven

  THE JERSEY TOMBOY

  I learned to steady my nerves, control my tears, and see things from a boy’s point of view.

  —LILLIE LANGTRY

  The woman who would become Bertie’s most famous mistress, Lillie Langtry, was born in Jersey on October 13, 1853, a long way from the glittering world of London society. Lillie was born Emilie Charlotte Le Breton, the sixth of seven children and the only daughter of the Reverend William Corbet Le Breton, Dean of Jersey, and his wife, Emilie. Five brothers preceded Lillie: Francis, William, Trevor, Maurice, and Clement. Reggie, to whom Lillie was closest, was the last child, born a year after Lillie. “I was nicknamed ‘Lillie’ very early in life,” Lillie wrote in her memoirs, “perhaps on account of my skin being unusually white, and that soubriquet has clung to me ever since.”1 “Lillie” was the way the young Lillie with a childish lisp pronounced her own name, and the pet name stuck. Lillie’s mother, Emilie, had been a beauty in her day, “petite and lovely, with blue eyes, curling auburn hair and perfect skin,”2 according to Lillie, growing up in Chelsea on the same street as the young Charles Kingsley, author of The Water-Babies, and his brother Henry, both of whom were madly in love with her. Charles tells us that Emilie was “the most bewitchingly beautiful creature he had ever seen.”3 Charles and Henry Kingsley had both wanted to marry Emilie, but, instead, Emilie chose the dashing and handsome Reverend Le Breton, a blue-eyed six-footer with an athletic physique and distinctive, prematurely white hair. According to Lillie, her father was “a remarkably handsome man, and widely adored for his gentility and charm of disposition.” Born in Jersey to an old distinguished family, and educated at Winchester College and Pembroke College, Oxford, Reverend Le Breton was considered something of a catch. But he also possessed a character weakness that would lead to the humiliation of his wife and daughter and to his own spectacular downfall. It is no surprise that Lillie, a mistress of spin, omitted all mention of this in her narrative.

  But this was all in the future. After coming down from Oxford, Reverend Le Breton had accepted a living at St. Olave’s, Southwark, the church once frequented by the noted diarist Samuel Pepys. This was something of a surprise posting for an Oxford-educated public schoolboy, but Lillie tells us that her father rejected the position of dean of Jersey in favor of this insalubrious district as a matter of principle. As with so many of Lillie’s comments, this has to be taken with a large spoonful of salt. Eventually, Reverend Le Breton accepted the offer of dean and returned home to Jersey with his wife and sons, and it was here that Lillie was born. In her memoir, Lillie described Jersey in lushly sentimental terms:

  Jersey enjoys the benefits of the Gulf Stream, and therefore the climate is so mild that ixias, camellias, palms and geraniums flourish in the open air throughout the winter. The sky is intensely blue and the sea more violet than the Mediterranean. Indeed, with its indented shores fashioned by nature into numberless small and beautiful bays with their stretches of golden sand, its country lanes with their high hedges topped by green aisles of arching trees, its apple orchards, its soft-eyed cattle browsing knee-deep in cool green valleys through which brooklets of clear water wander, and the comely milkmaids in native costume, the little Isle is certainly most attractive.4

  Lillie’s antecedents were portrayed in similarly glowing tones, the better to enhance her claims to nobility. Buying into family myth, Lillie boasted that her Jersey ancestors were seigneurs, or “lords of the manor,” who dated back to the days of William the Conqueror. One particular forebear apparently fought at the Battle of Hastings and was recorded on the Bayeux tapestry. Such tales, poured into Lillie’s ears by her father at an impressionable age, no doubt convinced Lillie that she was more than just the daughter of a rural dean. Other precursors included a bishop and a judge. And, since we all have black sheep in the family, there was a “shameful Le Breton who helped to murder Thomas a Becket,” and Raoul Le Breton, “insultingly referred to in French histories as “The Channel Islands Pirate.”5

  On the face of it, life at the old rectory of St. Saviour’s, known as “the Deanery,” was idyllic. The Deanery, dating back to 1100, was built of gray granite, and “almost entirely covered with climbing roses—red, white, pink, blush” and, to Lillie, “me most beautiful of all) the single damask.”6 Surrounding the Deanery were ancient cherry and pear trees, a walled garden, an orchard, and a vegetable patch that the children all helped to weed. One entrance to the rectory was covered by a glass portico filled with flowering plants, a testament to Mrs. Le Breton’s love of gardening; it was her only consolation. After seven pregnancies and an unhappy marriage Mrs. Le Breton had gone from Titian-haired beauty to a depressed invalid who had withdrawn into a world of plants and pet animals. The Le Bretons saw to it that their children were educated: the boys attended Victory College, a minor public school, during the day, and Lillie was taught at home by a French governess. But for the rest of the time the Le Breton brood ran wild, terrorizing the neighborhood with high jinks and practical jokes; any form of mischief in the vicinity was inevitably blamed on “the dean’s children,” and Lillie joined in enthusiastically, enjoying all their games and escapades and sharing in their punishments. Lillie had already learned a vital life lesson: her brothers had told her “what a miserable handicap it was to be a girl” and she had promptly decided that if she was going to join in, she would have to “steady my nerves, control my tears, and look at things from a boy’s point of view.”7 This would prove to be valuable. Becoming “an incorrigible tomboy,”8 Lillie learned to ride, swim, and sail, climbing trees and vaulting fences with her brothers and sharing in their practical jokes. Escapades including patrolling the churchyard of St. Saviour’s at midnight, wearing stilts and draped in sheets, and terrifying late passersby.9 This continued until someone wrote to the local paper threatening the “ghosts of St. Saviour’s” with a dose of cold lead if they appeared again. The Le Breton children also had a passion for stealing door knockers, braving threats, dogs, enraged householders, and even shotguns to obtain one.10

  One target was an old man called Wilkins, a retired tradesman who lived with his two unmarried daughters at the top of Deanery Lane. Although patient and long-suffering, sometimes he was exasperated beyond endurance by the exploits of the Deanery children, and complained to their father. One evening, having already relieved the poor man of his door knocker, the children tied a strong rope to his bell and tied the other end around a stone, which they threw over a wall opposite. The result of this was that everyone who passed by, whether on foot or on a horse, struck the chord, causing the old man’s bell to ring furiously.11

  Every time this happened, Mr. Wilkins emerged like a cuckoo from a clock striking the hour and hurled abuse at the innocent passersby. The children’s laughter gave them away, and they were subsequently hauled up before their indignant father as he stifled his own laughter.12

  Lillie’s lifelong passion for horses began early and she learned to ride bareback, often mistaken for a boy as she galloped her horse along the sands. When she was thirteen, she and her younger brother, Reggie, bought a “weedy English mare”13 at the Jersey cattle market. They named the mare “Flirt” and nursed her back to health. Lillie and Reggie took turns to exercise Flirt, and at one point Lillie suffered a serious accident when she fell off. The following year, they entered Flirt in a race with Reggie in the saddle and won. The dean knew nothing of this escapade until it appeared in the local paper.14

  A year later, as a young woman of fourteen, Lillie realized that it was time to take up her position in Jersey high society. She had already had a taste of official duties, substituting for her mother in visiting the sick, presenting prizes at school, and other island functions.15 “I dare say thus being put forward a little prominently had the effect of making me rather precocious.”16

  Lillie had something of a high profile in Jersey, her unusual combination of good looks and high spirits ensuring that she attracted the attention of the goss
ips. And it had become evident that this mischievous tomboy was also becoming a beauty, with golden auburn hair and huge violet eyes. Jealous mothers and envious daughters who regarded Lillie as competition for the limited supply of eligible young men ensured that Lillie was soon notorious, “half witch and half hoyden.”17 It was said that Lillie had run naked up Deanery Lane for a dare; that she rolled naked in the dew of the Deanery meadow at dawn, and wore meat face-packs to achieve her incredible complexion.18 The gossip failed to deter Lillie’s suitors, and by the time she was fifteen she had already had her first proposal, from an officer named Arthur Longley, son of the archbishop of Canterbury, who was garrisoned on Jersey. But poor Longley did not appeal to Lillie, despite the fact that he went to the dean first and asked his permission to marry Lillie.19 The dean declined, on the grounds that Lillie was too young.

  It was already clear that Lillie would never be short of admirers. When she was introduced to Charles Harbord, 5th Baron Suffield (1830–1914), at a picnic, Lord Suffield commented: “Do you know, Miss Le Breton, that you are very, very beautiful? You ought to have a season in London.”20 Lord Suffield was a member of the royal household who often spent his summers in Jersey. His official role was lord of the bedchamber to the Prince of Wales; his unofficial role was that of talent scout, and he had doubtless spotted Lillie’s potential as a potential mistress for the prince. Perhaps with a royal introduction in mind, Lord Suffield suggested that Lillie must come to dinner whenever she found herself in London.

  This invitation appealed to Lillie, who had already conquered Jersey, and found no man there who could prove a worthy husband. For all her tomboyish ways, Lillie was fascinated by London society, with the true provincial’s conviction that it was only in London that she would find her heart’s desire. If she could reach London, the capital would fall under her spell, just as the men of Jersey had done. In years to come, Lillie would see the capital at her feet. But her first visit to London, when she was just sixteen, was far from satisfactory.

  There was another reason Lillie needed to leave Jersey for a while. Lillie’s admirers were numerous, but now another, more serious suitor had emerged from the ranks of available menfolk. This man’s name remains unknown to this day, but he was described as a young fisherman, a blue-eyed boy a year or so younger than Lillie, from a modest background. At this point, the Le Breton household had been thrown into turmoil by the death of its third son, Trevor Alexander Le Breton. A lieutenant in the Royal Marine Light Infantry, Trevor had been killed in action in Toronto at the age of twenty-five, fighting against American forces.21 Preoccupied by grief, the Le Bretons left Lillie to her own devices. And Lillie clearly found some consolation in the arms of her handsome blue-eyed swain, as she announced plans to formalize the relationship, even if the boy was not her social equal. At which point, Dean Le Breton pulled himself together, sat Lillie down, and gently told his daughter that their match could never be permitted. When Lillie demanded why, the dean admitted that the boy was his illegitimate son.

  This shocking news revealed the true extent of the dean’s philandering. In the past, Dean Le Breton’s weakness for the opposite sex had been something of a joke. A popular anecdote describes the dean emerging from his own church with a local beauty on each arm. One was a Mrs. Knatchbull, the other a Lady Saumerez. At the sight of the notoriously lecherous dean, the irate husbands who had been waiting outside the church set about him with their walking sticks. The dean, experienced in extricating himself from jealous husbands, managed to slip away, leaving his would-be assailants to carry on the fight—against each other.22

  In the past, Lillie had dismissed the gossip about her father as nothing more than tittle-tattle. But now, here was the evidence of her father’s weakness in the form of an illegitimate son, rumored to be one of many. So all those stories Lillie had overheard, that no servant girl or flower seller was safe alone with her father, must be true. This was the real explanation for her mother’s retreat into invalidism. Lillie herself referred only briefly to this event in her memoirs, viewing it from the perspective of fifty years. Male biographers have seized on Lillie’s dismissive account of the incident as evidence of a calculating nature, an episode that “provides the key to the puzzle of that implacable coldness of heart which no man subsequently ever warmed.”23 There is a darker nuance to this story. Many years later, in a muttered aside, Lillie’s verdict on her father was that “He was a damned nuisance. He couldn’t be trusted with any woman, anywhere.”24 Was this comment evidence of a more disturbing relationship between Lillie and her father?

  At this point, Lillie’s mother came to her rescue. Despite her desperate unhappiness at the death of her son, and her chronic depression, Mrs. Le Breton planned a visit to London. Although Lillie could not be presented at court as a debutante, she could at least take up Lord Suffield on that invitation to dinner. Sadly, the first trip to London was a disaster. Years later, Lillie admitted: “When I walked into the ballroom, I felt like a clumsy peasant. My one ‘party gown,’ which had been made for me in St Helier, made me look like one of the serving maids. I had never waltzed, and could follow the leads of none of my dancing partners. The food was strange and never have I seen so many forks and spoons at one’s supper place. I had no idea which to use. I disgraced myself so often I could scarcely wait until the evening came to its abysmal end.”25 The visit dragged past in a misery of social unease, but once safely back in Jersey, Lillie learned from her mistakes and undertook a frenzy of self-improvement: “Between the ages of sixteen and twenty, I learned the magic of words, the beauty and excitement of poetic imagery. I learned there was something in life other than horses, the sea and the long Jersey tides.”26

  In June 1872 the Le Breton family suffered another terrible blow when their oldest son, Francis Corbet Le Breton, of the Bengal Pilot Service, died in Calcutta aged twenty-nine. This second tragedy, combined with the revelation of her father’s true character, tore Lillie’s world apart. The comfort and security of childhood ebbed away, to reveal a new and frightening world.

  In November 1873, the oldest surviving brother, William Inglis Le Breton, came home on leave from the Indian Army to marry local girl Elizabeth Price. Due to the prominence of the dean’s family and their two recent tragedies, this event was the equivalent of a royal wedding on Jersey. The local paper described a commotion at St. Saviour’s Church so great that “one woman was carried to the wall, where her face collided and where the multitude kept her; she came away minus her chignon, another woman had her earrings dragged from her ears; one man lost his boots and several women had their dresses torn.”27 At her brother’s wedding, Lillie witnessed scenes of mass hysteria for the first time, and started to plan her escape. “I began to dream of the real Prince Charming who would one day appear.”28 Lillie’s salvation appeared in the form of Edward Langtry, a widower from Belfast in his early thirties. “Ned” Langtry had been married to Elizabeth Price’s sister, Jane, a local beauty who had died from tuberculosis a year earlier.

  As part of the wedding festivities, Ned Langtry, “who was well known in the Islands, and who had a large and luxurious yacht called the Red Gauntlet,”29 gave a lavish ball at the Jersey Yacht Club. “It was a far more elaborate and extravagant affair than anything I had hitherto witnessed,” Lillie wrote, “and it electrified me. The walls were hung with quantities of flags; the supper was less sketchy than I had been accustomed to, and, to crown all, the hall and staircase were lined with sailors in their spotless white suits … it was simply dazzling, an Arabian Nights’ Entertainment, and its donor instantly became in my eyes a wonder!”30

  In her desperation to get off the island, Lillie was prepared to overlook the fact that Ned was a pudgy chap with a weak mouth and a walrus mustache. The scion of a wealthy Belfast shipbuilding family, Ned claimed to have studied law at Oxford but showed no incentive to work and had no interests apart from sailing and fishing. But to Lillie, in serious danger of being left on the shelf at the age of twenty,
Ned Langtry was the original knight in shining armor. Ned took Lillie sailing on the Red Gauntlet, with her father as chaperone, and Lillie soon convinced herself that she was “desperately in love.”31 Langtry beguiled Lillie with tales of an Elizabethan house overlooking Southampton Water, a string of racehorses, and society friends. This was enough to ensure that Lillie threw herself at Ned; for once he was a winner in life’s lottery. Following a six-week whirlwind courtship, Ned proposed, but it was several months before Lillie’s parents could bring themselves to grant consent, or, in Lillie’s words, “being the only daughter, my elation was not shared warmly by my mother and father.”32 This was something of an understatement. The Le Bretons had seen straight through Ned Langtry and feared that he was not a fit husband for their daughter. This suspicion was confirmed after Lillie’s brother Clement Le Breton, now a qualified solicitor, investigated Langtry’s financial affairs. Clement shared his suspicions with the dean, while Lillie’s adoring little brother, Reggie, opposed the match bitterly.

  But as usual Lillie got her way and the dean eventually married the couple on March 19, 1874, at St. Saviour’s, surrounded by the tombstones of Lillie’s ancestors. In the last vestiges of her tomboy persona, Lillie rejected the idea of a big wedding and conventional bridal array and chose to be married in her traveling gown. Apart from the dean, who performed the ceremony, Clement was the only other family member to attend. Reggie refused to go to the wedding and went out riding instead, along his favorite clifftop path, reigniting the old gossip about an “unnaturally” close bond between him and Lillie.