The book gives Thorpe credit during his meteoric rise to lead his party (aged 37) for firmly opposing apartheid and the Smith takeover in Rhodesia, but already the obsession with Scott had begun. How to rid himself of this blackmailer, a crazy fellow who tried writing about the rape to anyone ready to be shocked? Scott remained homeless and spendthrift all his life, as a male model, in horse dressage, husband and hysteric; his appearance altered accordingly.
At the Thorpe trial, which is very much the focus of this book, both Scott and Bessell were forced into pathetic confessions as liars and fraudsters. Jeremy himself, it will be remembered, was not called to give evidence — a stroke of genius by his erratic, brilliant counsel George Carman. If there is a hero, it is he, gambler and drinker, who could in court behave “like a kindly doctor, teasing out embarrassing symptoms from a sickly patient”, then “out came the scalpel”. Another honest man is Scott’s confessor Father Sweetman, who remained discreet throughout.
Of heroines there is only one, whom I often met in London in the 1980s and 1990s. Jeremy was loved and nursed for 40 years by his second wife Marion, a concert pianist, Viennese and Jewish, the former Countess of Harewood. She bought him a wonderful house by Hyde Park and knew all the facts about her husband but never spoke of them. The generosity of so many casual contacts to Scott and Bessell is oddly echoed by the rogues, too, often lending beds and support when begged — maybe this was to quiet guilty feelings.
The tale — not really so very “English”, I feel, just “Establishment” — is too good to stale. Even the shooting of Scott’s dog Rinka can trigger echoes from those who were not around when it happened. John Preston is the ideal author, having researched for years many minor characters and talked to dozens of well-known political and literary friends and enemies of Thorpe. I would question one detail — Jeremy is first described “wearing a brown Homburg” — his invariable hat was surely a Trilby. As for Scott, he is 75 and lives with 70 hens, five dogs, three horses, a cat, a parrot and a canary. No doubt he is still ready to reveal his own part in the drama.
At the Thorpe trial, which is very much the focus of this book, both Scott and Bessell were forced into pathetic confessions as liars and fraudsters. Jeremy himself, it will be remembered, was not called to give evidence — a stroke of genius by his erratic, brilliant counsel George Carman. If there is a hero, it is he, gambler and drinker, who could in court behave “like a kindly doctor, teasing out embarrassing symptoms from a sickly patient”, then “out came the scalpel”. Another honest man is Scott’s confessor Father Sweetman, who remained discreet throughout.
Of heroines there is only one, whom I often met in London in the 1980s and 1990s. Jeremy was loved and nursed for 40 years by his second wife Marion, a concert pianist, Viennese and Jewish, the former Countess of Harewood. She bought him a wonderful house by Hyde Park and knew all the facts about her husband but never spoke of them. The generosity of so many casual contacts to Scott and Bessell is oddly echoed by the rogues, too, often lending beds and support when begged — maybe this was to quiet guilty feelings.
The tale — not really so very “English”, I feel, just “Establishment” — is too good to stale. Even the shooting of Scott’s dog Rinka can trigger echoes from those who were not around when it happened. John Preston is the ideal author, having researched for years many minor characters and talked to dozens of well-known political and literary friends and enemies of Thorpe. I would question one detail — Jeremy is first described “wearing a brown Homburg” — his invariable hat was surely a Trilby. As for Scott, he is 75 and lives with 70 hens, five dogs, three horses, a cat, a parrot and a canary. No doubt he is still ready to reveal his own part in the drama.
Like this article? Share, save or print using the icons below:
