Feast Day of Edmund Campion Marked

Yesterday was the feast day in the Roman Catholic Church for St Edmund Campion. It was marked on two Roman Catholic websites with quotations from Waugh’s biography of Campion first published in 1935. On the website of the Association of Catholic Women Bloggers, Ellen Kolb quotes from the preface Waugh wrote for the book:

All I have sought to do is to select incidents which strike a novelist as important and to put them into a narrative which I hope may prove readable. The facts are not in dispute so I have left the text unencumbered by notes or bibliography. It should be read as a simple, perfectly true story of heroism and holiness…We have seen the Church driven underground in one country after another. The martyrdom of Father [now Blessed] Pro in Mexico re-enacted Campion’s. In fragments and whispers we get news of other saints in the prison camps of eastern and southeastern Europe, of cruelty and degradation more frightful than anything in Tudor England and of the same pure light shining in the darkness, uncomprehended. The hunted, trapped, murdered priest is amongst us again, and the voice of Campion comes to us across the centuries as though he were walking at our side.

Although the blog article refers to the 1930s edition, this version of the preface did not appear until later. Waugh rewrote the preface in 1946, and it appeared for the first time as quoted above in the Little, Brown edition of that year. That is also the version of the preface that has appeared in subsequent US and UK editions such as that of the OUP in 1980. 

The other post is by a Roman Catholic priest on the website of the Pagadian Diocese, which is a Latin Rite jurisdiction with headquarters in the Philippines. This rather gory passage is taken from the final chapter of Waugh’s book as it appears in both the 1935 and 1946 editions and deals with the aftermath of Campion’s execution at Tyburn:

[Henry Walpole] secured a place at Tyburn; so close that when Campion’s [intestines] were torn out [of his body] by the butcher and thrown into the cauldron of boiling water, a spot of blood splashed upon his coat. In that moment he was caught into a new life; he crossed the sea, became a priest, and, thirteen years later, after very terrible sufferings, died the same death as Campion’s on the gallows at York. 

The quotation has unfortunately been edited to remove Waugh’s background description of Henry Walpole, which makes the passage somewhat less gruesome and even adds a bit of Wavian irony. Walpole is described by Waugh as a:

…Cambridge wit, minor poet, satirist, flaneur, a young man of birth, popular, intelligent, slightly romantic. He came of a Catholic family and occasionally expressed Catholic sentiments, but until that day had kept his distance from [Catholic sympathizers], and was on good terms with authority. He was a typical member of that easy-going majority, on whom the Elizabethan settlement depended, who would have preferred to live under a Catholic regime but accepted the change without any serious regret. He had an interest in theology and had attended Campion’s conferences with the Anglican clergy. [1946 edition, p. 230].

Walpole was later canonized in 1970, at the same time as Campion, and along with the other “40 English Martyrs”.  At the time Waugh wrote, they were not yet Saints but had been beatified.  

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David Pryce-Jones Reviews Eade Biography (Updated)

David Pryce-Jones, son of author Alan Pryce-Jones who was Waugh’s near contemporary at Oxford but not close friend, has reviewed Philip Eade’s biography of Waugh in the National Review. He begins with an apology for having written an unfavorable review of Sword of Honour in his 20s and continues with a memoir of his own youthful contacts with Waugh:

My first meeting with Waugh had been at a lunch party in the highly respectable Randolph Hotel in Oxford. Teresa Waugh, his eldest daughter, had invited a dozen of her university contemporaries. In the course of the meal, someone said that the person we were speaking about had children and therefore wasn’t homosexual. “Nonsense, buggers have babies,” said Waugh in a voice that stopped conversation throughout the dining room. “Lord Beauchamp had six, Oscar had two, and even little Loulou Harcourt managed one.” (I could place Lord Beauchamp and Oscar Wilde but little Loulou was an unknown quantity to me.) That same term, Teresa further invited me for the weekend at Combe Florey, the Waugh house in Somerset. As we drove up to the door after three hours on the road, Waugh leaned out of a first-floor window shouting, “Go away!” There seemed to be nothing for it. We duly turned around and left. A year or two later, I received a letter in his handwriting but oddly signed in the name of Laura, his wife, inviting me to a white-tie dance. A military band played “The Post Horn Gallop,” music for brass to which it is impossible to dance. The moment midnight struck, Waugh clapped his hands and dismissed everybody.

Pryce-Jones summarizes his assessments of previous biographies by Christopher Sykes, Martin Stannard and Selina Hastings and then offers his opinion on that by Eade:

Christopher Sykes, a member of a traditional Catholic family, was a longstanding friend of Waugh’s and his first non-academic biographer. Taking Waugh at face value, he was surprisingly sanctimonious for a man of the world, sometimes so disapproving that [Sykes] came close to breaking off his friendship with him. By the time two subsequent biographers, Martin Stannard and Selina Hastings, had finished with him, the caricature of Waugh was well and truly established: unloving son, indifferent husband, brutal father for whom children were “defective adults,” snobbish social climber, rabid misanthropist, bilious conservative — in every which way a monster. Philip Eade gives the impression of approaching Waugh on tiptoes, so cautious are his opinions. All the same, his new biography deconstructs the monster and reattaches the man to the human race. The central proposition is that Waugh was extracting from life the make-believe that he needed for literature. Artists create myths; great artists create great myths, and never mind who might get hurt in the process. He did not deceive himself; he recognized that “I am by nature a bully and a scold” and condemned “my own odious, if unromantic sins.”

UPDATE (7 August 2018): At the time of the original posting, most of the book review was behind a paywall. The full review is now available at the link above and the posting has been amended accordingly.

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Waugh Novel on Winter Reading List

The news webpage Business Insider has published a list of recommended books by British authors for reading on the long, cold winter nights now being experienced rather early this year in the UK. Among the 15 books selected, about half are 19th century classics. Waugh’s 1938 novel Scoop is among the 20th century books on the list:

Evelyn Waugh’s best known and most exhuberant comedy definitely won’t disappoint. Lord Copper, editor of the Daily Beast, thinks he found the best journalist to cover a little war in the African Republic of Ishmaelia, and it all goes downhill from there. Evelyn Waugh’s “Scoop” is a satire of Fleet Street’s need for hot news.

Other recommended books from the early 20th century include Mrs Dalloway, Animal Farm and Lady Chatterley’s Lover.

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Waugh and the “Inner Toff”

Author and journalist James Delingpole, writing in this week’s Spectator in an essay entitled “How I learned to embrace my inner toff,” cites Waugh as a precedent in defense of his reaction to certain recent changes in life style.

Delingpole acquired a Land Rover to replace a more modest motor car called a Skoda Yeti when his lease ran out. He now receives more respect from fellow motorists but at first felt guilty because they don’t understand the financial sacrifice he had to make in this transaction even though the new vehicle was actually bought from a second-hand dealer. In the end he harks back to the example of Evelyn Waugh to justify his acceptance of the new situation. He admits that:

… yes, I guess I did get it for snob reasons too. It’s all just a front though: my Potemkin Motor, if you will, designed to throw people off the scent like the carefully constructed persona of some dodgy character in a mid-period John le Carré novel. Quite often now I’m amused to see myself described — usually by pillocks on Twitter — as ‘an upper-class twit’. I want to reply: ‘Really. You have no bloody idea. I’m the son of a Midlands businessman and at the village school I spoke with a Brummie accent.’ But I don’t, because I find being thought an effete toff more useful for the purposes of annoying people.

His wife can’t understand why he doesn’t “just admit that you’re not posh and we’re totally skint?”

Why don’t I? Well initially — as recounted in my cult classic Thinly Disguised Autobiography — I think it may have stemmed from my Charles Ryder-ish yearnings at university. But I think I’m pretty much over all that, now that I’ve since been so epically disappointed by so many of the smarter friends I once aspired to emulate.

Now I think I pretend to be a country squire for the same reasons I suspect Evelyn Waugh did. Because it’s the perfect way of retreating from civilisation, becoming as feral and eccentric and anti-social as you like, seeing only the people you want to see and letting the rest of the world go hang.

 

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Waugh Cited in Announcement of Erle Stanley Gardner Book

The New York Times in a recent books column has announced the publication of a long forgotten book by Erle Stanley Gardner. This was written in 1939 as the second in his series of books featuring the detectives Bertha Cool and Donald Lam. His publisher informed him that Miss Cool’s coarse language and bad habits made publication unadvisable. Gardner set it aside, but the series continued, resulting in a total of two dozen volumes. The lost volume is entitled The Knife Slipped, and it will be issued next week in a paperback edition with an appropriately lurid 1940’s style cover. 

The Times story also mentions that Evelyn Waugh was a fan of Gardner’s work and quotes a 1949 interview of Waugh by Harvey Breit that appeared in the Times (13 March 1949). Waugh, then in the US for a lecture tour, was asked what American writers he admired. After mentioning Thomas Merton, J F Powers and Christopher Isherwood as the best young writers he went on to say:

The best American writer is, of course, Erle Stanley Gardner…Do I really mean that? By all means.”

Waugh did not meet Gardner on his lecture tour but did mention him several times in other interviews in US newspapers as his favorite US author. Many in the US, including Gardner, thought this was another one of Waugh’s jokes at their expanse. This was clarified, however, when the two writers later had a brief correspondence. Waugh wrote Gardner a fan letter in which he questioned Gardner’s use of the word “davenport” for a sofa. In the letter (dated 20 June 1960) he introduced himself to Gardner as “one of the keenest admirers of your work.” Gardner was skeptical that this was from Evelyn Waugh the well known writer and had an editor answer, but then added his own note to the letter informing Waugh that if he was:

the Evelyn Waugh who wrote that wonderful expose of Hollywood and apparently you are…you have the greatest gift of satire I have ever encountered and that means philosophical perspective and writing ability of a high order.” (Letters, 546)

Alfred Borrello, writing in an early issue of the Evelyn Waugh Newsletter, got permission  to publish this correspondence which he had obtained from Gardner himself. Still in some lingering doubt about the bona fides of Waugh’s admiration for Gardner’s work, Borrello wrote to Laura Waugh and asked her to elaborate. She explained that her husband had, indeed, read every one of Gardner’s books and that his appreciation for them had spread to other members of the family (EWN, 4.3, Winter 1970).

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Tony Last on Fifth Avenue

In a recent post on his weblog, political commentator, enemy of political correctness and general iconoclast Taki Theodoracopulos (sometime contributor to the Spectator) has conjured up the image of Tony Last from Waugh’s novel A Handful of Dust among the anti-Trump protestors in front of the Trump Tower office building on Fifth Avenue. He gets there by asserting that the protestors are being paid for their activity by George Soros:

How is it possible for … George Soros, to mask himself in virtue by paying self-aggrandizing, mostly young well-off people to protest while the cameras are whirling? … [T]he protesters remind me of Tony Last, held prisoner by a madman reciting Dickens in perpetuity. They will be yelling the same slogans eight years from now, or for as long as the ill-gotten Soros billions hold out.

At first glance, Mr Todd, who holds Tony captive in Waugh’s novel, seems to have little in common with Soros. However, upon further reflection, and accepting for the sake of argument that Soros is paying the protestors, the analogy makes some sense. The  protestors are free to move on whenever they please, but only assuming they no longer need the alleged support of Soros. You could say the same about Tony Last, except if he moved very far he would have been eaten by a crocodile. And although Mr Todd didn’t need to pay Tony, he did provide fairly basic food and shelter, as well as reading material. Thanks to a reader for sending us this link.  

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Goodbye to More of All That

In the Guardian’s ongoing series of the “100 Best Nonfiction Books,” its latest selection is Goodbye to All That, Robert Graves’ memoir of his WWI experiences and early life. The Guardian describes the book’s depiction of the war as an:

irreverent, comic, and often bawdy first-hand account of frontline action in France…His account of trench life is the thing that still grips the reader 100 years on. In keeping with the account of modern warfare reported by his friend Siegfried Sassoon, Graves describes a campaign that’s a succession of “bloody balls-ups”, in which farcical incompetence and stupidity are responsible for a casual and gruesome slaughter. He, in turn, adds his wild protest by ruthlessly celebrating the horrors of trench life – rotting corpses, scattered brain-matter, and visceral, almost animal, suffering…

The Guardian quotes Paul Fussell’s description of Graves as first and foremost: “a tongue-in-cheek neurasthenic farceur whose material is ‘facts’.” The article concludes with this comparison:

Goodbye to All That remains [Graves’] masterpiece, a classic of English autobiography, and a subversive tour de force that would inspire, among others, Evelyn Waugh’s Sword of Honour trilogy.

A bit more of an explanation for this might have been useful, but the article is about Graves, not Waugh. Oddly, when the same columnist, Robert McCrum,  wrote a Guardian series on “The Best 100 Novels,” the one Waugh novel he included was Scoop, not Sword of Honour. See earlier post.

 

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Wodehouse Redeemed

Today’s Observer has a story by Robert McCrum attributing to an acquisition of the British Library the final act by the British Government in its redemption of the reputation of P G Wodehouse:

…The Observer can now reveal that [Wodehouse’s] lifetime of literary work has reached a remarkable climax. On Thursday, the British Library will announce that the Wodehouse archive is about to join its 20th-century holdings, a collection that includes the papers of Arthur Conan Doyle, Evelyn Waugh, Mervyn Peake, Virginia Woolf, Harold Pinter, Ted Hughes, Beryl Bainbridge, JG Ballard and Angela Carter.

This rare and brilliant archive not only casts fascinating new light on Wodehouse’s comic genius, and painstaking daily revisions of his famously carefree prose, it also holds the key to the controversy that has tormented the writer’s posthumous reputation, the “Berlin broadcasts”. Yet, unlike many authors, he made no attempt to protect this collection, which is all the more authentic for being free of authorial intervention and contrivance.

After his death on Valentine’s Day 1975, many of Wodehouse’s papers found their way to Dulwich College, his former school. Several other manuscripts were already in private hands. Everything else was steadily accumulated and catalogued by the PGW estate, under the direction of Wodehouse scholar Kristin Thompson, and stored in the attic of a farmhouse on the edge of the Sussex Downs.

The article does not reveal, however, the details of what remains of the Wodehouse archive that is in private hands or where it resides (aside, perhaps, from Dulwich College) or how it compares to what the BL is acquiring. In Waugh’s case the BL’s holdings, to which the new acquisition is compared, consist primarily of Waugh’s correspondence files. These are mostly letters from his friends and business associates, such as his agents. The small but important portion of Waugh’s own writings that make up this file is primarily his letters to his wife and other family members. Most of his archive of manuscripts, diaries, drafts, books, etc. is housed in the Harry Ransom Center at the University of Texas and a smaller portion, at the Huntington Library near Pasadena, California. A few of Waugh’s manuscripts are held elsewhere (such as the Brotherton Library at Leeds University and the Loyola-Notre Dame Library in Baltimore) but the holdings of the BL are by no means the chief repository of the Waugh archives. That may also be the case with the Wodehouse archive; the Observer describes in detail only one part–the diary Wodehouse kept while detained by the German Government during WWII. It would be interesting to know the whereabouts and extent of the remainder.

UPDATE (28 November 2016): Articles similar to the above have appeared in the Times and the Daily Mail. Posted below, please see the comment of Kristin Thompson, former archivist of the Wodehouse Archive in which she explains that it is, indeed, a major and extensive archive, including manuscripts of novels, correspondence, and other items of importance in addition to the wartime diaries cited in the Observer article. It includes copies of Evelyn Waugh’s letters to Wodehouse. With its acquisition of these letters, the BL will hold both sides of this correspondence, since its Evelyn Waugh Papers already include 19 pages of correspondence from Wodehouse to Waugh written between 1941-69.

 

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Combe Florey, Pevsner and the Waughs

In a recent article in the Guardian, literary journalist Ian Jack pays homage to the late Nikolaus Pevsner on the occasion of completion of the work he began in the 1950s. This occurred with the publication of the final volume of the Buildings of Scotland, relating to the architecture of Lanarkshire and Renfrewshire. The work was launched with Prof Pevsner’s ambitious Buildings of England series originally sponsored and published by Penguin Books and often referred to as “Penguin Guides.” The first guide was devoted to Cornwall and was published in 1951. Much of the work on the early volumes was undertaken by Pevsner himself who was driven around the countryside by his wife to follow up on the initial research done by his assistants. The texts of these early volumes were written by Pevsner and can be painful reading due to to his meticulous attention to detail. A rivalry grew up between Pevsner and John Betjeman who favored a more relaxed and accessible form of architectural history in his Shell Guide series.

In his Guardian article, Jack mentions Combe Florey. This was Evelyn Waugh’s home from 1956 until his death in 1966, and his wife and later his son Auberon lived there afterwards.  Jack’s article discusses Pevsner’s entry for the house:

Not everywhere welcomed his curiosity; [Pevsner] sometimes got on poorly with the owners of country houses. “Nice staircase of c1753,” was his only comment on the interior of Combe Florey, Auberon Waugh’s house in Somerset. “One can’t very well take offence at that,” Waugh countered later, “but I feel my staircase has been violated whenever I reflect that his bleary socialist eyes have appraised it.”

Combe Florey is covered by the guide entitled South and West Somerset, no 14 in the Penguin series and written by Pevsner. The entry starts with a long and detailed paragraph about the church and then continues with the “manor house.” After a description of the Medieval gatehouse, which predates the manor house and still belongs to Alexander Waugh, Evelyn’s grandson, the entry continues:

The present house is up the hillside. It was built c. 1675 and received a new front in 1730. Five bays and two stories, with pedimented doorway and ground floor windows with Gibbs surrounds. (Nice staircase c. 1735.)

This volume was published in 1958, and Pevsner may have visited the house before the Waughs moved there in late 1956. Waugh leaves no record in his published diaries or letters of a visit by Pevsner. Since he would probably have been aware by that time of the rivalry (even enmity) between Betjeman and Pevsner, he would likely have noted such a visit. Nor does Auberon mention whoever it was who allowed Pevsner into the house when he wrote about it in a 1992 article in his “Way of the World” column for the Daily Telegraph (quoted above). Auberon should have been pleased to have Pevsner’s favorable assessment of his staricase since he more usually left only a dry factual description of a country house that lacked any particular architectural or historic notoriety.

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Grammarian Names Waugh Favorite Writer

British writer and grammarian Lynne Truss has named Evelyn Waugh her favorite writer. This is in an interview in today’s “One Minute With…” column in the i Newspaper, as reposted on PressReader. Truss is probably best known for her 2003 book Eats, Shoots & Leaves: The Zero Tolerance Approach to Punctuation. Here’s an excerpt from the interview:

Q. Who is your favorite author and why do you admire him/her?

A. Evelyn Waugh. Although I hate his snobbery, I love his economy of style, and his dialogue. There is a audiobook of his Decline and Fall read by Michael Maloney that I’ve listened to half-a-dozen times: it still makes my laugh and laugh.

 

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