My Life

My Life - Oswald Mosleyby one or two old harpies in a company of wardresses, who were on the whole goodpeople, she remarked that she yet felt she had an advantage over them: 'It was stilllovely to wake up in the morning and feel one was lovely one' I wickedly recountedthis tale later to the merriment of family circles, and needless to say it went straightinto one of Nancy Mitford's books.Yet it was not amusing for a woman to be treated like that and in addition to beseparated from all her children: our newly born babies and her elder two boys,Jonathan and Desmond Guinness, by her former marriage with Lord Moyne. They toosurvived entirely in temperament and character the vicissitudes of this period, andremained always devoted to their mother and my good friends. Above all, Dianaretained unbroken not only her gaiety and courage but her sense of beauty. Her loveof music, her ability even with simplicity to make every house beautiful wereunimpaired, and in sight-seeing anywhere in the world she remains the best ofcompanions for reasons I always explain to the children and others; a detail of beautyon such occasion is revealed to those huge eyes, continuously swivelling, which is notavailable to normal vision. The foundation of all these blessings are her good nature,high intelligence and firm character. We follow the good marriage rule that she runsthe house and I run the business, which in my case is politics, but her view on manysubjects is worth having.After three and a half years of prison my old complaint of phlebitis returned in anaggravated form owing to the inactive life I had to lead. It had happened first in 1928when I was young, and they put me to bed for six weeks with the traditional treatmentuntil the blood clots in my legs disappeared. The complaint returned a few years laterand I was again advised that I must go to bed. I replied that I had two pressingengagements; the first to speak in the Albert Hall, and the second to represent Britainin the European fencing championship at Lausanne. My doctors gravely intimated thatI might conceivably survive the Albert Hall, but had not a hope of living throughLausanne. However, I spoke in the Albert Hall, and fenced from soon after dawn tonear midnight in the heavy protective clothing under a temperature approachingninety degrees in the shade. The performance was not so bold as it may appear,because I had then made contact with that remarkable man Mr. Arthur Dickson-Wright, chief surgeon at St. Mary's Hospital, whose method was to bind the legs ofhis patients with Elastoplast to stop the clots moving and then to encourage them toexercise in order to keep the blood circulating rapidly. This is no doubt a mostamateur account of the medical process, but Dickson-Wright cured me of phlebitis.This illness returned in prison in a severe form, and was believed to be endangeringmy life. It ceased when I left prison twenty-four years ago and I have never had atrace of it since. The reason is that I have a slow pulse, which is fine for athletics butfatal for prison. My pulse has a normal rate of 64, about 48 at rest, which gives mestaying power in athletics and endurance in life; it is a quite familiar phenomenonamong athletes, and it has undoubtedly helped me to withstand the general strain ofmy life. The only real drawback of this condition is that you cannot stand inactivity.The constitution is designed by nature to support stress; it clogs, rusts, and ceases towork in desuetude. The long lethargy of prison life brought the phlebitis back with avengeance, and reduced my general condition to the point of losing four stone inweight; some highly qualified and experienced doctors thought that my life was indanger. After a protracted convulsion of inner circles—I do not know exactly what343 of 424