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Записи пользователя: Brideshead (список заголовков)
03:25 

iheaartuk: Oxford, England

Brideshead
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@темы: oxford

02:28 

independencemakesyoufree: The Path to Knowledge by Ben Heine on...

Brideshead
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01:37 

A voice  said: “Hold up”; another, “Come...

Brideshead
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A voice said: “Hold up”; another, “Come on”; another, “Plenty of time . . . House . . . till Tom stops ringing”; and another, clearer than the rest, “D’you know I feel most unaccountably unwell. I must leave you a minute,” and there appeared at my window the face I knew to be Sebastian’s — but not as I had formerly seen it, alive and alight with gaiety; he looked at me for a moment with unseeing eyes and then, leaning forward well into the room, he was sick.




@темы: oxford, motifs

00:40 

His [William the 7th earl’s] children noticed that he rarely mentioned his own childhood,...

Brideshead
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His [William the 7th earl’s] children noticed that he rarely mentioned his own childhood, school or Oxford days, and only visited his old governess, who lived in an almshouse in the village, out of duty.



Madresfield by Jane Mulvagh





@темы: motifs, I am not I

23:44 

starrymessenger: Christ Church Cathedral, Oxford, England.

Brideshead
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starrymessenger:



Christ Church Cathedral, Oxford, England.





@темы: sebastian, oxford

22:53 

Narrow loins

Brideshead
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In Stuart times a clear distinction was made between ‘wooing’, merely flirtation without commitments, and ‘wiving’, a serious attempt to court a woman with a view to marriage. Contemporary letters and diaries are pepped with the vocabulary of battle, a chess game, a hunt or even downright war. William Lawrence, writing to his brother in 1667, reported that ‘after a discharge of some sights, after I had made many assaults upon her white hand, and stormed the blushing bulwarks of her lips, the fortress upon the 24th of September was surrendered, and at night I triumphantly entered into my new possession.’



Madresfield by Jane Mulvagh (quote from Birth, Marriage and Death: Ritual, Religion and the Life-Cycle in Tudor and Stuart England, David Cressy, OUP, 1997)



So at sunset I took formal possession of her as her lover.



Brideshead Revisited, the 1st edition


Evelyn Waugh invented nothing.





@темы: Waugh, I am not I

21:55 

Photo

Brideshead
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@темы: waugh

14:24 

kaiserbund: Things to do when you’re bored: Upload a particularly grumpy-looking photo of the Waugh...

Brideshead
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kaiserbund:



Things to do when you’re bored: Upload a particularly grumpy-looking photo of the Waugh household on facebook and tag your friends as the numerous servants and children.


I think we all know who I tagged myself as


Because if anyone’s going to grow up to be a bitter, middle-class alcoholic writer, it’s me



No way. ‘S me.




@темы: I like getting drunk at luncheons

07:00 

Auberon Waugh

Brideshead
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Auberon Waugh, who has died aged 61, was the most controversial, the most abusive, perhaps the most brilliant journalist of his age - an acerbic wit, a traveller, a farceur, an epicure; above all, a hater of humbug in all its forms and of politicians in most of theirs.


Auberon WaughAuberon Waugh, eldest son of novelist Evelyn Waugh, and his bride Lady Teresa Onslow, married July 1961. Photo: PA

His forte, displayed over the last decade in his Way of the World column in this newspaper, was to express, with pellucid and succinct brilliance, ideas and prejudices of which many people were subliminally aware, but which they would never have dared to articulate, or even consciously think. Waugh’s courage was equalled only by his extraordinary intellectual energy.


The succes d’animosite which he achieved as a journalist made him at once greatly admired and greatly feared. Yet he had begun his professional life as a novelist, in emulation of his father, Evelyn Waugh. The fact that he eventually gave up writing fiction may have been due to the complicated involvement with the memory of a father in whose shadow he had inevitably once stood. But not even his worst enemy - a title for which there was hot competition - could deny that he had successfully stepped out of that shade.


Auberon Alexander Waugh, Evelyn Waugh’s second child and first son (there would be two more sons and two more daughters), was born on November 17 1939 at Pixton, a house belonging to his mother’s family on the borders of Devon and Somerset. His mother was Laura Herbert, a shy and gentle woman who had married the enfant terrible - soon to be angry old man - of English fiction.


“Bron” - as he was known to family and friends - was born just as Evelyn Waugh joined the Army, so father and son saw little of each other for six years. Even after that, Evelyn Waugh preferred to visit his children no more than “once a day for 10, I hope, awe-inspiring minutes”. As Bron later remarked in a back-handed phrase, Evelyn was a remarkably laisser-faire father provided his children kept out of his way.


The boy grew up at Piers Court, Stinchcombe (“Stinkers”) in Gloucestershire, the house his father had bought before the war; the family moved to Combe Florey in 1956. Bron was educated as a scholar of Downside.


All his life he was a doughty class warrior, but - though many failed to realise the fact - in contrast to his father he was not a snob. He detested the public schools in general and Downside in particular, and did not send any of his own children away to school.


He was a precocious, rebellious boy who got into scrapes with stolen bottles of gin and wanted to leave school for the catering trade. “You have made a mess of things,” his father pronounced. “You have a sense of humour and a good gift of self-expression. But you are singularly imprudent and you have a defective sense of honour. These bad qualities can lead to disaster.”


In the event, Bron stayed at school to win an exhibition to Christ Church, Oxford. Before going up, he joined the Royal Horse Guards (The Blues) as a National Service cornet. While serving in Cyprus he underwent an experience which he was later to describe, as only he could, in an immortally funny piece.


Trying to unjam the Browning machine-gun in his armoured car, he managed to set it off and to fire, at point-blank range, four bullets through his chest and shoulder, one through his arm and one through his left hand before he noticed what was happening “and got out of the way pretty quick”.


Horribly injured, he was still alert enough to say “Kiss me, Chudleigh” to his troop sergeant, on whom the allusion was lost and who treated him afterwards with suspicion. “To those who suffer from anxieties about being shot,” Waugh later wrote, “I can give the reassuring news that it is almost completely painless.”


He lost a lung, his spleen, several ribs and a finger. His survival was miraculous; and for the rest of his life he was often in pain (the chest wounds required disagreeable treatment from time to time) and was conscious of the closeness of death. But he always made light of his physical troubles.


While recuperating in Italy he wrote his uproariously funny first novel, The Foxglove Saga, published in 1960, in which, among many other targets, he settled a few scores with Downside. Its reception was considerably more successful than his academic career. After a year at Christ Church he was rusticated for failing PPE prelims. Not liking the tone of the letter from his college, he said, he went down for good.


A couple of attempts to enter the Secret Service came to nothing. Waugh later insisted that he had detected a Communist agent among the interviewers.


At Oxford he had made a number of firm friends, and some enemies. Chief among the latter was the Earl of Gowrie (subsequently Arts Minister and then chairman of Sotheby’s). The two competed, Gowrie successfully, for a girl’s favours and for decades to come Waugh mercilessly persecuted his rival in print.


Vendettas were a characteristic of his journalism. Some of his targets were inherited from his father - Sir Stephen Spender (“-Penny”), Cyril Connolly, Lord (“Trimmer”) Lovat - and some he acquired for himself: “Dame” Harold Evans, the late Charles Douglas-Home (“Charlie Vass, the well-known female impersonator”) and many politicians.


“One could try journalism, but think of the other journalists,” a character in one of his novels remarks. In fact Waugh liked the trade into which he now moved, and those who practised it.


After a spell on the Peterborough column of The Daily Telegraph, he moved to the Daily Mirror. He was writing captions for a series of pin-ups called “The ABC of Beauty”, when Hugh Cudlipp passed by and said: “Wonderful thing it must be to have an education, Auberon.”


During the Six-Day War of 1967, the paper sent Waugh to Israel where Miss Mandy Rice-Davies was said to be working as a nurse at the front. In fact, she was still to be found in her Tel Aviv nightclub, but Waugh had her dressed up and photographed as a nurse.


That year he joined The Spectator, then under the editorship of Nigel Lawson, as political columnist, and made a notable success of it. Apart from general mockery of the Wilson Government, he found a cause in the form of Biafra, an African country struggling to be free.


The way in which Biafra was crushed and its people starved with British connivance increased Waugh’s hatred of politicians, and was part of the theme of his last novel, A Bed of Flowers (1972).


After The Foxglove Saga he had written Paths of Dalliance (1963), Where are the Violets Now? (1966) and Consider the Lilies (1968), which was the best of the five - indeed one of the best, if neglected, novels of the 1960s. It is a brilliant satire on modern life, on the emptiness of the Church of England, and on the horrors of Hungerford, near where Waugh then lived.


He had married Lady Teresa Onslow, daughter of the 6th Earl of Onslow, in 1961; they lived in London for a time before moving to Chilton Foliat. Later, after an unsuccessful attempt to sell his father’s old house, Bron and Teresa moved to Combe Florey. They had two sons and two daughters, and were both wonderful parents.


Waugh would encourage Teresa’s own career as a novelist - which proved highly successful - but after 1972 he himself turned his back on fiction. This decision undoubtedly sprang partly from being the son of one of the greatest English novelists of the century; at the same time, though, he felt that his own novels were not getting any better, and noted that they only sold moderately.


In 1970 Waugh was working at The Spectator’s printers when on a whim - and to settle a score - he altered the name of George Gale in the list of contents to “Lunchtime O’Gale”. For this, he was sacked by Nigel Lawson.


He brought an action for wrongful dismissal and after an interesting as well as comical hearing at the Marylebone County Court - where witnesses including Bernard Levin testified that The Spectator had always been famous for its jokes - won damages.


He remained on friendly and admiring terms with Lawson and later returned to The Spectator as fiction reviewer under Gale’s editorship. A spell as columnist on The Times also ended with the sack (hence the subsequent persecution of Douglas-Home), but not before he had written a column including an old Army joke about the curious trousers worn by men in certain parts of the Near East.


This caused outrage in Islamic countries. When the British Council library in Rawalpindi was burnt down by a mob, Waugh was, he said, “naturally proud to have caused such devastation”.


FROM 1970 to 1986 he wrote a column for Private Eye which was in some ways his most characteristic achievement. As it developed, the Eye Diary was a dazzling mixture of fantasy and philippic, hilarious jokes and frightful abuse.


It was hard to know how far Waugh was being serious, and whether he really intended the offence he sometimes gave. Two collections of the Diary appeared: Four Crowded Years (1976) and The Diaries of Auberon Waugh: a Turbulent Decade (1985).


He wrote weekly for the New Statesman from 1973 to 1975, thereafter for The Spectator, articles which were collected respectively as In the Lion’s Den (1987) and Another Voice (1986). Waugh was indeed an astonishingly prolific journalist, writing at least three columns a week for most of his life.


He wrote regularly at one time or another for the Evening Standard, the Daily Mail and the Independent (as book reviewer), and for The Sunday Telegraph. For a time he also wrote for Business Traveller which introduced him to the delights of free travel and the Bangkok massage parlours, about which he wrote often and enthusiastically, partly tongue in cheek.


In 1990 he took over the Way of the World column in The Daily Telegraph. In his memoirs Will This Do? (1991), he explained how he had set about wresting the column - originally written by Michael Wharton (Peter Simple) - from Christopher Booker.


On his return from a trip to China in 1989, Waugh had written what he later described as an “affable account in The Spectator of what I had seen, concluding with the observation that it was hard to take student demonstrations too seriously, because they were obviously taking place, at that stage, with official blessing”.


Then a week later came the massacre of Tiananmen Square - and a piece by Christopher Booker in The Daily Telegraph pouring scorn on Waugh’s misreading of events in China. “I do not think I am particularly thin-skinned,” Waugh wrote in his memoirs, “but this high-minded lecture struck me as an unmistakable declaration of war.


“On that day I started on a necessarily bleak and tortuous, sometimes crab-like, campaign to take over the column. Six months later it had all been settled. On Monday, 7 May 1990, I wrote my first piece under Peter Simple’s old banner: Way of the World.” He would continue to write the column until shortly before his death.


Another of Waugh’s passions was wine. He once broke two bottles of a superb vintage when he banged them together too enthusiastically to celebrate Shirley Williams’s defeat in the general election of 1987. Over the years he wrote wine columns for Tatler and Harpers and Queen, and he ran the Spectator wine club.


As the best French wines became too expensive for English pockets “shrunk by the growing indolence, incompetence and indiscipline of our island race”, he looked further afield, visiting vineyards in Australia and South Africa. He became a great enthusiast for the wines of Chateau Musar, in Lebanon.


He and his wife entertained generously at their house in Somerset, at a holiday home in Languedoc and at their flat in Hammersmith (bought with the proceeds of an ornate Victorian wash-stand, by the Puginesque designer William Burges, which Sir John Betjeman had given Evelyn Waugh as a 50th birthday present). Teresa’s cooking complemented Bron’s excellent cellar.


“Auberon Waugh, who really is a most unpleasant man …” wrote Tony Benn after Waugh had just asked him a sharp question during the 1970 election. This view would have been shared by many people who were the victims of Waugh’s ferocious pen, not only by such personages as Sir James Goldsmith and Jeremy Thorpe (the former leader of the Liberal Party), both of whom he flayed relentlessly (he wrote a book about Mr Thorpe’s trial, The Last Word), but also by such members of Mrs Thatcher’s Government as Douglas Hurd, David Mellor and Edwina Currie - and indeed the Prime Minister herself.


But anyone who knew Bron Waugh knew that he was an exceptionally pleasant man in private. He was “thought a great wit by his contemporaries”, his father wrote when Bron was six, and he remained a great wit for his friends, a sparklingly and unpredictably funny man. Those meeting him for the first time were often surprised to encounter so courtly and well-mannered a figure; there was even, perhaps, an underlying melancholy behind the bonhomie.


Undeniably, though, his victims were sometimes hurt with intent. With all his private kindness went a steak of cruelty - a family trait - which sometimes became obsessional.


In 1970 he planned to stand for Parliament, in order to protest at the consequences of the Biafran war. In 1979 he did stand, representing the Dog-Lovers’ Party in North Devon as part of his endless baiting of Jeremy Thorpe, who lost his seat, though not to Waugh. (The Dog-Lovers’ Party was so-called in reference to the shooting dead of the great dane Rinka, belonging to Jeremy Thorpe’s former friend Mr Norman Scott).


Waugh himself was impossible to classify, least of all politically. As with his father’s fictional alter ego Gilbert Pinfold, his idiosyncratic Toryism seemed to some more sinister than Socialism. Many of his passions - his dislike of the police, his contempt for most laws (notably that against drinking and driving), his opposition to the Falklands war, his disgust at the Gibraltar shootings in 1988 - scarcely placed him on the Right, but rather made him a liberal individualist of the most extreme cast.


Will This Do? more than did for the first half of his life; less than did for the mature years. He complained for several years that no one in America would publish the memoirs. In one passage he described how his father consumed three whole bananas, fabulously rare in wartime, in front of his wife and children - a vignette which subsequently dominated many people’s view of the late novelist.


He set himself stiff tasks as hobbies - for instance, running the Literary Review, inspired in many ways by the defunct Books and Bookmen, to which he had once contributed. At the same time he established the Academy Club, where he hoped to sell wines of his own choosing to an agreeable set of his own choosing, first in a noisy cellar in Beak Street, later in a bare room in Lexington Street.


If Auberon Waugh was a reactionary, it was in the best sense of reacting against the folly and cruelty and oppression of his own age. Brought up a Roman Catholic, he was disgusted by the course which the Church had taken in the last generation, and largely gave up church-going. But the best traditions of humane Christianity never left him. In the tradition of Dean Swift, he served human liberty through the laceration of folly.


Published January 18 2001




@темы: waugh

06:08 

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Brideshead
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@темы: oxford

05:11 

malinian: Magdalen College, Oxford.  February 2010.

Brideshead
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malinian:



Magdalen College, Oxford. February 2010.





@темы: oxford, bridey

04:17 

britainorbust: High Street, Oxford. (c) Jenny Faircloth

Brideshead
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britainorbust:



High Street, Oxford. (c) Jenny Faircloth





@темы: oxford

03:22 

Photo

Brideshead
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@темы: oxford

02:28 

britainorbust: Oxford (c) Jenny Faircloth

Brideshead
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britainorbust:



Oxford (c) Jenny Faircloth





@темы: oxford

01:36 

Photo

Brideshead
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@темы: waugh

06:08 

"I still see him [Evelyn Waugh] as a prancing faun, thinly disguised by conventional apparel. His..."

Brideshead
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“I still see him [Evelyn Waugh] as a prancing faun, thinly disguised by conventional apparel. His wide apart eyes, always ready to be startled under raised eyebrows, the curved sensual lips, the hyacinthine locks of hair, I had seen in marble and bronze at Naples…”

- Harold Acton


@темы: waugh

05:12 

It is hard to imagine Waugh, whose physique and mannerisms call to mind a stocky cleric, roped to...

Brideshead
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It is hard to imagine Waugh, whose physique and mannerisms call to mind a stocky cleric, roped to the tall, Botticellian beauty Hugh as they pulled a sledge across the frozen tundra.



Madresfield by Jane Mulvagh


Is it, really? I do imagine it. I wish I didn’t.




@темы: Waugh

04:19 

thebrightyoungpeople: Diana Mitford, sometimes known by her...

Brideshead
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thebrightyoungpeople:



Diana Mitford, sometimes known by her marital names of Diana Guinness or Diana Mosley.



Already famed for her beauty, style, and charisma, Diana, at the age of 18, became secretly engaged to Bryan Walter Guinness shortly after her presentation at Court. Guinness, an Irish aristocrat, writer and brewing heir, would inherit the barony of Moyne. Her parents were initially opposed to the match but in time were persuaded. Sydney was particularly uneasy at the thought of two such young people having possession of such a large fortune, but she was eventually convinced Bryan was a suitable husband.


The couple were well known for hosting glittering society events involving the Bright Young People. Waugh exclaimed that her beauty “ran through the room like a peal of bells.” He dedicated the novel Vile Bodies, a satire of the Roaring Twenties, to the couple. Her portrait was painted by Augustus John, Pavel Tchelitchew and Henry Lamb.






@темы: motifs, waugh

03:22 

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Brideshead
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@темы: oxford

02:28 

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Brideshead
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@темы: waugh

Brideashead revisited

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