My Life

My Life - Oswald Mosleycourse, looked odd in the more formal dress. It is not therefore difficult to conceivethat the sky was darkened and the earth shook when Sir Ronald Lindsay, of theForeign Office, ambled up the stairs to shake hands with his chief and host standing atthe top, clad in trousers. The hands were raised to heaven, the short 'a' was resonant,'Lindsay!—I am aghast'. It was doubly an outrage, as on two clear counts Lindsayshould have known better. Firstly, he was already well on the way to his subsequentachievement of becoming head of the Foreign Office, and secondly he was brother toan earl of ancient lineage. Lord Curzon, however, in another context commentedadversely on men of no personal significance who took undue pride in officialuniforms, and concluded: 'If I walked naked down Piccadilly people would still lookat me'.There was quite a run of bad luck around these Royal dinners. We ourselves beganvery badly indeed. The formal invitation arrived and I carelessly handed it foracceptance to my secretary, who was a member of the Labour Party and unversed inthe intricacies of these affairs; we will call him John Smith. The reply to Lord Curzonran on the following lines. 'Dear Lord Curzon, Mr. Mosley asks me to say that he andthe wife will be glad to dine with you and the King and Queen on the I5th prox. Yourssincerely, John Smith.' By return a letter arrived in the long, flowing hand. 'In the firstplace, your secretary should address me (if he must address me at all) as My Lord.' Tothose who knew him well, there was a world of weary resignation in that bracket.Then followed a complete social register, how and in what order of precedence everydignatory of the realm should be addressed and placed. It was most useful.We were able to be a little helpful in return at an embarrassing moment on one ofthese regal occasions. George Robey had been invited to sing to the King and Queenafter dinner; a sensible choice, for the royal taste was hearty, and Robey was finallyknighted. He was going strong with his usual gaiety and effrontery, when he suddenlystopped. He gazed wildly around him, and then ran from the stage. Cimmie and I feltit was our duty to follow him and find out what was up. He was sweating profuselyand in a state of perturbation. 'You see,' he explained, 'I suddenly remembered thenext line was, "I feel just as good as a jolly old queen".' We felt that no prospect lessformidable than the combined disapproval of Queen Mary and Lord Curzon couldhave broken the nerve of the great comedian.Yet all this stately ritual was a part of Lord Curzon's practical sense. He belonged tothat order, and it had to be supported with the long-proven means appropriate to it.My father-in-law showed himself a man of very different intellectual and moralstature from most of my opponents when he said to me that he could well imagine myperiod would be very different, requiring a different policy, attitude and way of life.He added suddenly and simply: 'I ask you one thing, not to become a good debater inthe wilderness, a brilliant lone-wolf. That is all I ask. I don't mind if you join theLabour Party or come back, which I can arrange for you at once, to the ConservativeParty. I shall not blame you if you join Labour, but do not remain in ineffectiveisolation.' In retrospect this was prophetic, as I remembered when my attempt tofound a new movement was frustrated by the Second World War and I wasconsequently thrown into a position of isolation. Although my instinct would havebeen to agree with his advice, fate confronted me with the dilemma of becoming acomfortable colleague in a journey to disaster or a lone challenger to a political worldwhich was bringing ruin to my country.97 of 424