Partying with Royals in London (1930)

Lord Glenavy with his
 children Patrick and Biddy

This is a continuation of a jot from March 2014 featuring  a good letter, over 20 closely written pages found among some papers bought in Ireland.  Indiscreet, gossipy ('The Prince  of Wales was blotto..') from the inner circles of power and privilege in 1930 and like something out of Waugh's Vile Bodies. The recipient was Beatrice Elvery, Lady Glenavy (1881 - 1970). Irish artist and literary host, friend of Katherine Mansfield and friend of Shaw, Lawrence and Yeats. She modelled for Orpen and painted 'Éire' (1907) a landmark painting promoting the idea of an independent Irish state. The letter is from her husband Charles Henry Gordon Campbell, 2nd Baron Glenavy (1885–1963) politician and banker in England and Ireland. This is from the last two pages, the letter ends on a scrap of 'Irish Free State Delegation' paper.


I had to go to a party at  Buckingham Palace, they were much the same people as at Londonderry (an earlier party)   but Kipling and Barrie instead of Elinor Glyn and Mrs Stevens. Lady Jowitt was all over us to go to another cocktail party but I rather shrank from meeting Mary Hutchinson. I met Plucky's mother in law, Lady Melchett. The Prince of Wales is a wretched looking old-young man who would be quite insignificant if he hadn't large eyes of a brilliant blue. The Queen's bosom reaches form her chin to her pelvis and anyone talking to her has to stand about five feet away. The Duchess of York is quite simple and pleasant looking;  Winston Churchill remembered me and got into a conversation about the Xmas day I spent in his room at the Ministry of Munitions which attracted quite a crowd.

In the evening we had an official reception and a dance which was quite good fun. Tell Granny that Lord Amulree  (the new Minister of Air) flutters breeches (?) and a lot of MP's were asking for him…Lady Drogheda & her daughter were there (the latter a terrific beauty) dodging the cardinals and Bishops (in England RC clerics have enormous pot-bellies) because Lady D has been scandalised, divorced or something. Shaw couldn't come because he had been up late with *Einstein the night before…  I danced with Isabel MacDonald a couple of times -  a homely retiring sort of girl.

Towards the end I got off** with a terrific beaut who said she worked at the Slade ( I'm rather doubtful) + we were going to go on somewhere when Mrs McGilligan attacked me

Maxims of Marmaduke - 'Life is like walking through Paradise with peas in your shoes'

Found - a collection of quotations from C.E. Jerningham -The Maxims of Marmaduke (London: Methuen & Co, 1909). A small book,it is  signed by the author on the front endpaper: 'To Jimmy Tuohy from his much attached old friend, Charles Ed. Jerningham, Saturday, October, 23/09 14 Pelham Crescent, London S. W.' Charles Edward Jerningham (1854-1921) was the younger son of a peer and as such forced to go out and make a living. Being literate and intelligent he chose journalism. He was known as a cheery soul, a clubman full of good will to his fellow men. His maxims are slightly reminiscent of Saki but without his bite. They conjure up a vanished world - after Victoria but before the Titanic went down and before The Forsyte Saga. There is not a vast amount about him online but the obituary appended at the end is useful:

He who is drunk in a first-class carriage has had a fit; he who has a fit in third-class is drunk. 

Beware of the rich; the poor will do much for money; the rich will do anything for more money. 
  
It is not our bitter enemies that do us the most harm; it is our bitter friends.

When two laugh it is certain a misfortune has happened - to a third.

Were it not for the misfortunes of our neighbours, life would be positively unbearable. 

In England, all are educated now, except the educated classes.

Political and Royal gossip 1920s

Lady Elvery by William Orpen

A good letter, over 20 closely written pages. Indiscreet, gossipy ('The Prince of Wales was blotto..') from the inner circles of power and privilege in the mid 1920s. The recipent was Beatrice Elvery, Lady Glenavy (1881 - 1970). Irish artist and literary host, friend of Katherine Mansfield and friend of Shaw, Lawrence and Yeats. She modelled for Orpen and painted 'Éire' (1907) a landmark painting promoting the idea of an independent Irish state. The letter is from her husband Charles Henry Gordon Campbell, 2nd Baron Glenavy (1885–1963) politician and banker in England and Ireland.


 Quite a good little show at the Londonderry's the other night. Great strong retainers at the door in short kilts of the Stewart tartan created an atmosphere of sex appeal, much fortified by the magnificent bosoms of the Marchioness Curzon which are said to have only reached their full bloom for the first time this season.

The white face of Elinor Glynn, a a long green velvet gown, made our RC aboriginals visibly insecure: her walk is so sensuous as to suggest unimagined pleasures in love and is enhanced by some minor pelvic obstruction which necessitates a few swings with the right leg before she can take a step. Her daughters, married to a pair of peers or better, offer a pleasant contrast of blackheads and anaemia. Lady Jowett was escorted by Eddie Marsh who is still holding up wonderfully together...........We bumped into Gladys Cooper fresh from the theatre in full make up, on Londonderry's arm and a bodyguard of four young men........
On asking Lady Jowett how she explained Baldwin's remaining in public life she said the Baldwin family had a firm hold on the British public's imagination ever since she said, when asked whether she found it (illegible) to have so many children imposed upon her by her husband that 'each time she closed her eyes and thought of England'...........

Eire by Beatrice Elvery (1907)

On Friday McGilligan, Hogan and Fitzgerald went to dinner with the King. Everything gold including the forks.

Manners in the Drawing Room -- some 'don'ts'

From an undated but late Victorian self-help / etiquette book called Don't: A Manual of Mistakes and Improprieties more or less prevalent in Conduct & Speech (Ward, Lock, London circa 1890). The author is noted as 'Censor' - now known to be Oliver Bell Bunce. Much of the advice still holds, e.g. about reading a book in company...in 2014 it  would be about perusing a smartphone.

DON'T repeat old jokes or tell time-worn stories. DON'T make obvious puns. An occasional pun, if a good one, is a good thing; but a ceaseless flow of puns is simply maddening.

DON'T be always on the look out for opportunities of making jokes. For a man, to be constantly straining after witticism is to render himself ridiculous, and to annoy the whole company.

DON'T, if you think you are a clever mimic - and many persons entertain that idea with more or less basis of fact - be very ready to exhibit your powers in society. Few persons like to have their peculiarities noticed; and it is almost certain that some officious, and well-intentioned friend, will let B know that A gave an admirable (or execrable) imitation of him at Mr. So-and So's dinner party.

DON'T respond to remarks made to you with mere monosyllables. This is chilling, if not fairly insulting. Have something to say, and say it.

DON'T appear listless and indifferent, or exhibit impatience when others are talking. Listening politely to every one is a cardinal necessity of good breeding.

DON'T be conceited. DON'T dilate on your own acquirements or achievements; DON'T expatiate on what you have done or are going to do, or on your superior talents in anything. DON'T always make yourself the hero of your own stories.

DON'T if you have travelled, be continually talking about what foreign places you have seen, or the adventures you may have met with; and DON'T consider the people of foreign places to be necessarily inferior to your own countrymen, because their national habits are different.

DON'T be sulky because you imagine yourself neglected. Think only of pleasing; and try to please. You will end by being pleased.

DON'T show repugnance even to a bore. A supreme test of politeness is submission to various social inflictions without a wince.

DON'T, when at the card-table, moisten your thumb and fingers at your lips in order to facilitate the dealing of the cards. This common habit is very vulgar.