My Life

My Life - Oswald MosleyGreece. At that moment it was difficult to believe that mankind would not at somepoint in time be as one in a union of high achievement. Already across every physicaldivision and without earthly consciousness of another presence, these two heights ofhuman genius had reflected one another.After a stay at Government House in Ceylon, and another in Madras, we went north toCalcutta, where the Governor was Lord Lytton; he was married to a woman ofremarkable beauty and charm, one of whose daughters had been bridesmaid at ourwedding. Lord Lytton had many contacts with Indian life, being a highly intelligentand sensitive man, while his sister, Lady Emily Lutyens, had penetrated into some ofthe inner circles in Madras. None of these officials placed any obstacle to our entryinto the plenitude of Indian company and way of living; we were often guests inIndian houses, unusual at that time. Apart from the study of social conditions underthe guidance of experts this gave us an insight into spheres not usually available to theEnglish. For instance, on the way northwards we visited perhaps the most remarkableof all Indian temples, at Madura, in the company of an Indian authority whoseexposition swiftly transmuted what appeared to European eyes as the barbaricobscenities of Hindu mythology into an elevated nature symbolism and remotermysteries. We were sustained throughout our Indian journey by a subtle blend ofofficial realism and Indian culture, which afforded us exceptional opportunities ofunderstanding the country and the life of its people.In Madras we entered the strange circle of Mrs. Besant and her friends. It was indeeda bizarre ensemble, for it occupied the house of Sir Edwin Lutyens, the architect; acomplete non-believer in the theosophist cult. I knew a certain amount about it, forduring my days in hospital I had read books by Blavatsky, Leadbetter and Mrs. Besantherself; kindergarten versions of theosophy have recently become popular. It appearedto be a quite logical religious theory—with less of the obvious contradictions which insome cases make metaphysical debates so easy to the experienced dialectician—but itwas, of course, entirely lacking in proof for anyone who had not enjoyed these strangeand felicitous experiences in dream journeys. The absent Leadbetter or the happilypresent Mrs. Besant could explain to you every detail of their journey in the astral ordevechanic plane, but any request for evidence would be regarded as philistinism.Sir Edwin Lutyens' hearty English character would burst through all this like anelephant through tissue paper. 'Annie'—he would say to Mrs. Besant at breakfast—'Ihave just dreamt that we were married in our last life, and you did not let me smoke inbed.' He was a most whimsical and engaging fellow of whom we were very fond. Atthat time he had just had his estimates drastically cut for the palace he had beencommissioned to build at Delhi, and this threatened to spoil all his proportions.Among other things, the avenue for his ceremonial march of elephants had beenshortened, and the hill was consequently too abrupt for their gait. His imitation of anelephant waddling in these conditions with a viceroy on top of him, was almost asdiverting as his quick pencil distortions of the ceremonial coat of arms on officialmenu cards into the face and body of an angry pekinese dog, which made us laughduring pompous speeches at the Lord Mayor's banquet some years later. He was agreat droll as well as a gifted architect, and got on strangely well with the brilliantband of Indian thinkers and mystics who surrounded Mrs. Besant and Lady Emily.Chief among them was Ramaswani Ayer— then responsible for law and order in103 of 424