My Life

My Life - Oswald Mosley6 - Marriage to Cynthia CurzonMY marriage to Cynthia Curzon was an event in my life of outstanding happiness andenduring influence. She was my steadfast, ever loyal and able colleague in the toughexistence of politics, and my delightful companion in most of the charming occasionsdescribed in this book from that happy day in 1920 until her tragic death in 1933 atthe age of thirty-four. She died of peritonitis following an appendix operation in aperiod before the discovery of the modern drug which would have saved her. Likemost people, I have a great appreciation of real goodness of character, and I havenever seen that finest of qualities in higher degree in any human being. She was agood woman in the true, natural sense of the word. In addition, she had an immensegaiety and joie de viwe, an enthusiasm alike for the fun of private life and the causesof public life, whose unreasonable frustrations would move her to the most intenseindignation, but her enthusiasms were balanced by her calm and steady character.When I met her she had advanced Liberal opinions, an instant, automatic sentiment infavour of the under-dog. She reacted strongly against the splendours of Conservatism,so faithfully reflected in her early surroundings, and this led her to seek close contactwith the mass of the people and to prefer simplicity in her own home. She likedpeople, and her transparent sincerity and friendly approach enabled her to get on withthem. Our house combined her welcome with these tastes, and made everyone feel athome.e began married life with two small cottages at Ifold in the middle of the Sussexwoods near Dunsfold; with their beams and low ceilings they were in extremecontrast with the lofty magnificence of her father's Hampshire house at Hackwood.We moved later to Savehay Farm, a Tudor house in about a hundred and twenty acresof land near the lovely village of Denham in Buckinghamshire. Again, the simplicityof style presented a challenge to the Regency glories of her father's tastes; a naturalreaction which enlarged her experience, for happily she still retained her capacity toenjoy all spheres of life's diversity. Our London house at 8 Smith Square, with itsroseate Queen Anne panelling, was a retreat from the busy political world, disturbedonly by the harsh summons of the division bell. Our two elder children were born andbrought up in these houses; Cimmie was a completely devoted mother, the life wasdomestic. Her real political interests came later, for she was at first given entirely tohome life, relieved only by the gaiety of young parties in the country and the fun ofLondon in the glittering twenties.As Cimmie grew to political maturity she combined a passion to end avoidablesuffering and unnecessary poverty with an urge towards the essential action and a hotimpatience with its frustrations. It was not only her deep personal loyalty, but also herrecognition that sentiment is not enough, which held her always in my politicalcompanionship. She recognised that we must will the means as well as the end,though the rough struggle was often detestable to her gentle nature. All ignoble meanswere excluded by such a character; if fight we must, our weapons must be clean, ourvictory magnanimous, or our defeat unflinching.I met Cimmie first just after the war, and remember driving her home from parties toher father's house at No. i Carlton House Terrace. My first close association with herwas in the by-election at Plymouth in March 1919, which followed Waldorf Astor's94 of 424