The Assassin's Cloak. Группа авторов
humbug. Humbug everywhere, even in science. For years now the scientists have been promising us every morning a new miracle, a new element, a new metal, guaranteeing to warm us with copper discs immersed in water, to feed us with nothing, to kill us at no expense whatever and on a grand scale, to keep us alive indefinitely, to make iron out of heaven knows what. And all this fantastic scientific humbugging leads to membership of the Institut, to decorations, to influence, to stipends, to the respect of serious people. In the meantime the cost of living rises, doubles, trebles; there is a shortage of raw materials; even death makes no progress – as we saw at Sebastopol, where men cut each other to ribbons – and the cheapest goods are still the worst goods in the world.
The Brothers Goncourt
1936
Brian Lunn took me to lunch in the Inner Temple. It was like being back at Cambridge. I found him in a little wooden room, reading old divorce briefs. They were pencilled over with comment. The language was not at all bowdlerized. One contained a verbatim report of a telephone conversation a husband had overheard between his wife and her lover. He claimed that it proved adultery because, in this conversation, she used the same pet name for penis as with him.
Malcolm Muggeridge
1969
Dashed home to change hurriedly for the Buckingham Palace reception for the Commonwealth Prime Ministers. It was an awful nuisance having to dress but the only way I could see of meeting my old friends during my frantic week.
It was nice to see Indira Gandhi again: I warm to her. She is a pleasant, rather shy and unassuming woman and we exchanged notes about the fun of being at the top in politics. When I asked her whether it was hell being Prime Minister she smiled and said, ‘It is a challenge.’ Oddly enough, I always feel protective towards her.
Every group I spoke to greeted me as the first woman Prime Minister to be. I hate this talk. First I’m never going to be PM and, secondly, I don’t think I’m clever enough. Only I know the depth of my limitations: it takes all I’ve got to survive my present job.
Barbara Castle
1975
I have received a letter from Martin Gilbert, who is engaged on vol. 5 of Winston Churchill’s life. Among Sir Winston’s archives he has come upon my name as a guest at Chartwell for four nights in January 1928. Can I give him any recollections of the visit? I have replied that I remember it fairly well. I was terrified of W. C., who would come into dinner late, eat his soup aggressively, growl in expostulation at Randolph’s cheek, then melt so as to be gallant with the girls and tolerant of the boys: that one night we remained at the dinner table till midnight while W. C. gave us a demonstration of how the Battle of Jutland was fought, with decanters and wine glasses in place of ships, while puffing cigar smoke to represent gun smoke. He was like an enthusiastic schoolboy on that occasion. The rest of the visit he was in waders in the lake or building a wall, or pacing backwards and forwards in his upstairs room dictating a book to his secretaries. Thump, thump on the floorboards overhead.
James Lees-Milne
1994
Rugged is my favourite word.
If I had my way even workmen would wear velvet every day.
Ossie Clark
1995 [Brussels]
As I got up to leave the restaurant, the crêpe chef in the middle of the room gestured urgently to warn me of something. I assumed, ‘Careful – this stuff is flambé’, and waved to acknowledge. I moved between the tables around him. He cried out again. I realized he was saying ‘Serviette!’ and that I had it hanging neatly from below my now buttoned jacket – a large, white, triangular codpiece. Everyone looked at me with the patronizing admiration the Europeans show to the absent-minded and/or obsessed.
Brian Eno
8 January
1849 [Ireland]
I don’t see that the misery of the country is at all increasing, it is only spreading. None of the lower orders need suffer for an hour, the Poor House is open. They bear a great deal before they will go there, hunger alone drives them into it, so that those who are out however wretched they may look are not as yet in want of food. The upper classes are now suffering, the farmer class a good deal, the landlord class a great deal. Every day we hear of the ruin of additional families, of themselves or their ancestors, yet who managed to live and let live till these unjust poor laws came to overwhelm them. That we have so far escaped is owing entirely to the Honourable East India Company’s pay, small though it be, for the little property having but a debt of £1,000 upon it would yield but a bare £100 a year for the support of its owner after all the charges on it were paid unless we were to dismiss all the servants and labourers. We are tight enough as it is and must try and lessen our expenditure still.
Elizabeth Grant of Rothiemurchus
1934
At Marks and Spencer’s I bought a peach-coloured vest and trollies to match with insertions of lace. Disgraceful I know but I can’t help choosing my underwear with a view to it being seen.
Barbara Pym
1935
I arrived back at Elveden late, cold and hungry. Our guests were all still up but all the fifty servants had gone to bed, and I could get nothing to eat. In spite of that, of all the Iveagh houses I like Elveden. I love its calm, its luxurious Edwardian atmosphere. For a fortnight now I have slept in the King’s bed, which both Edward VII and George V have used. And this morning, in the wee sma’ hours, I had a humiliating accident – I somehow smashed the royal chamber pot. It seems a habit of mine, and one much to be discouraged. At Mentmore once, staying with the Roseberys, I broke Napoleon’s pot in similar circumstance, a very grand affair covered with ‘N’s and Bees.
‘Chips’ Channon
1940 [Berlin]
Did a mike interview with General Ernst Udet tonight, but Göring, his boss, censored our script so badly that it wasn’t very interesting. I spent most of the day coaching the general on his English, which is none too good. Udet, a likeable fellow, is something of a phenomenon. A professional pilot, who only a few years ago was so broke he toured America as a stunt flyer, performing often in a full-dress suit and a top hat, he is now responsible for the designing and production of Germany’s war planes. Though he never had any business experience, he has proved a genius at his job. Next to Göring and General Milch, he is given credit in inner circles here for building up the German air force to what it is today. I could not help thinking tonight that a man like Udet would never be entrusted with such a job in America. He would be considered ‘lacking in business experience.’ Also, businessmen, if they knew of his somewhat Bohemian life, would hesitate to trust him with responsibility. And yet in this crazy Nazi system he has done a phenomenal job. Amusing: last night Udet put on a little party at his home, with three generals, napkins slung over their shoulders, presiding over his very considerable bar. There were pretty girls and a great deal of cutting up. Yet these are the men who have made the Luftwaffe the most terrible instrument of its kind in the world.
William L. Shirer
1943
Left flat early, bought sour apples and (at Fortnum & Mason’s of all places) a head of celery – the last one left, price 1/-, very dirty & I could take it or leave it! Took it, as my object was to procure some vitamins for Stuart.
Lunched at the Westway Hotel with Howard Kershner (Director of Relief in Europe for the American Friends’ Service Committee) who told me interesting facts about the food situation (including the fact that Churchill & Roosevelt are the persons really responsible & nothing but a large public agitation will move them). He also said that 6,000 Jews escaped to Spain from France, & are now in danger of being sent back to Germany by starving Spain, yet our Gvt. despite all its talk of atrocities will do nothing for them!!