1939

by Angela Lambert

  The world around them has changed: many believe for the better. In the 1960s when their daughters were growing up, some defied their mothers’ hopes by refusing to be presented. They do not disapprove of this. Those who have granddaughters reaching adulthood in the 1980s often spoke proudly of the universities and colleges they were attending or the professions they planned to enter. Not one referred to a granddaughter who would be ‘coming out’. The bitterest regret of many debs of 1939 is that they never went on to higher education – but they were given no choice in the matter, for a clever girl was a ‘blue-stocking’ and who would marry her? Their strongest criticism of today’s young is that they have such deplorable manners: no consideration; never write thank-you letters ; no deference to their elders ; don’t lower their voices or their radios or give up a seat. Their greatest worry concerns the widespread use of drugs. They do not necessarily deplore the sexual freedom of today’s generation. On the contrary, some expressed relief, almost envy, and more than one had come to the conclusion (based on their own or their contemporaries’ experience) that virgin marriages were not a good thing.

  Many became nostalgic when recalling their Season but few were sentimental. They are glad they were there, glad they had it, but realistic and hardly even regretful that the world of their parents has gone. Its gradual disappearance over the last fifty years began for them during the war – but that same war that set them free also freed the people upon whose acceptance of a lowly station in life the privileges and comfort of the upper class had depended. J.B.Priestley, in one of his immensely popular wartime broadcasts, said in 1940 that England was fighting, ‘not so that we can go back to anything: there’s nothing that really worked that we can go back to’. The aim was for ‘new and better homes, real homes, a decent chance at last’.

  The last half-century has seen – said one aristocrat, who did not wish to be quoted by name – nothing less than a social revolution.

  The Second World War completely altered our way of life: we’ve lived very simply since then. Of course I regret it in some ways. In 1939 we lived on a magic carpet. One gave orders then – to staff, people in shops – and people carried them out, for your pleasure and comfort. Now, we have to try and fit in with their convenience. In those days before the war there was nothing wrong with being a playboy; it didn’t matter if you enjoyed yourself and did little else. Today, one’s conscience simply wouldn’t allow it. Values were correct then, but standards left a lot to be desired. We had very good servants, totally loyal – yet they weren’t pampered. They slept in awful conditions. I have three pairs of hands to look after me today, and they’re wonderful; but they expect their own television, telephone, and they live in great comfort.

  But I don’t think the loss of that old Society has meant the loss of anything very valuable or important. It was very vapid, you know ; arrogant and vapid. Now, there’s been a levelling down. I have friends today in all walks of life – fifty years ago that would have been impossible. Today we’re all classless. There’s snobbery, of course; there’ll always be snobbery; we’re all snobs. But it used to be said that the English loved a lord ; today it would be truer to say that the English love a pop star !

  It is a warm summer evening. A figure in her late sixties is strolling through a garden ebullient with flowers. Two large dogs amble after her, flopping down to pant each time she stops. She carries a pair of secateurs with which she deadheads the flowers into a trug, and she bends down occasionally to pull out a weed. A tall old copper beech and spreading cedar throw slanting shadows across the lawn. She wears soft, comfortable clothes and although her bearing is firm and upright she does look, at this moment, as though she might be talking to herself.

  Across the wide lawns an old house basks in the last of the sunshine. French windows open on to a stone-flagged terrace, where a group of people sitting on scrolled cast-iron seats is gathered around a tray of drinks. Below them, a wide, shallow flight of steps leads down to the lawn. A young girl, bare-armed and bare-legged, calls out, ‘Shall I bring you a drink, Granny, or are you going to join us?’ Her grandmother beckons, and the girl runs to her across the cool, springy grass.

  ‘You know, Sophie, I expect you’re right about us. We were ignorant and selfish and spoilt; we saw nothing wrong in idleness. But I tell you this. We did our trivial things in the most satisfactory way !’

  Appendix: Slang Expressions Current in 1939

  Words signifying approval

  divine

  grand

  topping

  spiffing

  capital

  angel – a kind person

  Glamour Boy – a good-looking or dashing young man ; slightly raffish

  gay – frivolous (homosexuals were called ‘pansies’)

  absurdly – very (especially as in ‘absurdly pretty’)

  chi-chi – a combination of chic and shallow and up-to-the-minute

  Words signifying disapproval

  tiresome

  beastly

  poisonous

  unnecessary

  sick-making

  bounder – an unscrupulous man

  fast – sexually daring (used only of women)

  rum – odd

  squiffy – drunk or tipsy (mild disapproval only)

  tommy rot ! – nonsense !

  perish the thought ! – heaven forbid !

  beyond the bounds – unacceptable behaviour

  up and downer – an argument or row

  nobs – working-class word for the upper classes

  plebs – upper-class word for the working classes

  Expressions

  keen on – sexually attracted to

  to care for – to be fond of

  to blow in – to come in unexpectedly

  to mob, or mob up – to behave wildly

  to rag – to fool about

  I wouldn ‘t know, I couldn’t care less – indifference (these two expressions were disapproved of by the mothers, who thought them ‘sloppy’)

  blush-making – embarrassing (thus, very embarrassing – too-too blush-making)

  in the swim – au courant

  she could whistle a chap off a branch – she was sexy

  fish! – bother!

  Select Bibliography

  My single greatest debt has been to Robert Kee’s chronicle of the year 1939: The World We Left Behind (Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1984). I wrote with it open beside me, and was also lucky in being able to consult him personally. I was very glad of his help.

  I also referred constantly to the 1939 hmso publication, Documents Concerning Anglo-Polish Relations, Cmd 6106, which was a further reminder of what the summer of 1939 was really about.

  After these two, I relied most frequently upon A.J.P.Taylor’s English History 1914–1945 (Oxford University Press, 1965), and upon Who’s Who and Burke’s Peerage, the edition of 1938 as well as more up-to-date editions.

  In alphabetical order of author, I also consulted the following books:

  Arts Council, Thirties: British Art & Design Before the War (Hayward Gallery exhibition catalogue, 1979)

  Michael Astor, Tribal Feeling (John Murray, 1963)

  Cecil Beaton, Diaries 1922–1939: The Wandering Years (Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1961)

  Lord David Cecil, The Young Melbourne (Constable, 1939)

  Chips: The Diaries of Sir Henry Channon, ed. Robert Rhodes James (Penguin, 1970)

  Peter Collier and David Horowitz, The Kennedys: An American Drama (Pan, 1984)

  The Duchess of Devonshire, The House: A Portrait of Chatsworth (Macmillan, 1982)

  Frances Donaldson, Child of the Twenties (Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1959) Edward VII (Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1974)

  Nina Epton, Love and the English (Cassel & Co., 1960)

  Flora Fraser, The English Gentlewoman (Barrie & Jenkins, 1987)

  Jonathan Gathorne-Hardy, The Rise and Fall of the English Nanny (Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1972)

  The Public School Phenomenon
(Penguin edn, 1979)

  Christian Miller, A Childhood in Scotland (John Murray, 1979)

  Shiela Grant Duff, The Parting of the Ways (Peter Owen, 1982)

  Robert Graves and Alan Hodge, The Long Weekend (Hutchinson, 1940)

  Rosina Harrison, Rose: My Life in Service (Cassell, 1975)

  Selina Hastings, Nancy Mitford (Hamish Hamilton, 1985)

  Christopher Hibbert, The Court at Windsor (Allen Lane, 1977)

  Christopher Hollis (ed.), Death of a Gentleman (Burns Oates, 1943)

  Roy Lewis and Angus Maude, The English Middle Classes (Phoenix House, 1949)

  Helen Long, Change into Uniform (Terence Dalton, 1978)

  Elizabeth Longford, Victoria R.I. (Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1964)

  Jessica Mitford, Hons and Rebels (Quartet edn, 1978)

  Nancy Mitford, Noblesse Oblige (Hamish Hamilton, 1956)

  Penelope Mortimer, Queen Elizabeth: A Life of the Queen Mother (Penguin/Viking, 1986)

  Diana Mosley, A Life of Contrasts (Hamish Hamilton, 1977)

  Nicholas Mosley, Beyond the Pale (Seeker & Warburg, 1983)

  Malcolm Muggeridge, The Thirties (Hamish Hamilton, 1940)

  Priscilla Napier, The Sword Dance (Michael Joseph, 1971)

  Harold Nicolson, Diaries and Letters 1930–1964 (Penguin edn, 1984)

  Lady Mary Pakenham, Brought Up and Brought Out (Cobden-Sanderson, 1938)

  H. Perkin, The Origins of Modern English Society (Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1969)

  Margaret Pringle, Dance Little Ladies: The Days of the Debutante (Orbis, 1977)

  Philippa Pullar, Gilded Butterflies (Hamish Hamilton, 1978)

  John Scott, The Upper Classes: Property and Privilege in Britain (Macmillan, 1982)

  Ruth Sebag-Montefiore, A Family Patchwork (Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1987)

  Godfrey Smith, The English Season (Pavilion Books, 1987)

  Philip Toynbee, Friends Apart (MacGibbon & Kee, 1954)

  Lady Troubridge, The Book of Etiquette (Kingswood Press, 1987)

  The Diaries of Evelyn Waugh, ed. Michael Davie (Penguin edn, 1979)

  Loelia Duchess of Westminster, Grace and Favour (Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1961)

  Ursula Wyndham, Astride the Wall A Memoir 1939–45 (Lennard Publishing, 1988)

  Acknowledgements

  This book wouldn’t have been worth writing without the first-hand evidence and reminiscences of those who were young in the Season of 1939. I contacted over a hundred of the debutantes of that year, and more than twenty of their escorts. To all those who answered my letters, a long questionnaire, telephone calls and what seemed – to some of them, at least – a number of impertinent enquiries: my very grateful thanks. My views about the purpose and merit of the Season differ, in most respects, from theirs; and although I have tried to suppress my own opinions and record their testimony, I should like to stress that my views are solely my responsibility.

  The first breakthrough in my research came when Mrs Patrick Sandilands (née Madeleine Turnbull) answered a personal column advertisement in The Times, in which I had asked debutantes of 1939 to get in touch with me. Her generous, encouraging, amusing letter, filled with breezy anecdotes about her young life half a century ago, was the start of a long correspondence. For all those letters, and for her warmth and hospitality when I visited her in Scotland, my special thanks.

  The other person whose prompt and lively reply launched me into my research was Mrs Aidan Long (née Helen Vlasto) ; and for her insights into the manners and mores of that world, and the contacts she gave me with contemporaries who have remained her friends to this day; and for bringing with her to our meeting her Prince of Wales feathers and two jewelled evening bags, ‘to give you a whiff of those times’; and for her letters and the permission to quote from her book – for all this, I am most grateful.

  I cannot spell out my gratitude one by one to more than a hundred people. My thanks are equally due, however, to all those listed below: they know that I owe this book to their kindness.

  For welcoming me into their homes, talking to me at great length and showing me photographs, letters, invitations and other mementoes, I am very grateful to the Hon. Mrs Forbes Adam (née the Hon. Vivien Mosley); Mrs Christopher Bridge (née Dinah Brand); the Hon. Basil Ken worthy; Lady Diana Milles-Lade; the Hon. Lady Beckett (née the Hon. Priscilla Brett); Lady Roderic Pratt (née Ursula Wyndham-Quin); Mrs Marigold Charrington; Lady Mary Dunn; the Hon. Mrs Baring (née the Hon. Sarah Norton); Mrs John Miller (née Christian Grant); Mrs Tony Sheppard (née Rosamund Neave); Mr Tom Vickers; Viscount Hood; Mr Charles Fuller; the Hon. Lady Chichester (née the Hon. Anne Douglas-Scott-Montagu); Mr Ronnie Kershaw; Miss Elizabeth Lowry-Corry; the Countess of Sutherland (née Elizabeth Leveson-Gower) ; Mrs Archie Mackenzie (née Ann Schuster); Lady Sarah Churchill; Mr Alexander Ballingal; Mr Paul Tanqueray.

  For giving me tape-recorded interviews and allowing me to use all material, I am also very grateful to: Mrs Roderick Heathcoat-Amory (née Sonia Denison); Earl Haig; Lady Cathleen Hudson (née Lady Cathleen Eliot); Mrs Denzil Sebag-Montefiore (née Ruth Magnus); the Earl of Cromer; Lady Anne Mackenzie (née Lady Anne Fitzroy).

  I sent questionnaires to a further sixty people whose current names and addresses I had managed to track down, usually with the unstinting help of Mr Peter Townend. Of those who replied, two wrote such wonderfully detailed letters (the rare quality of their recall will be obvious from many quotations in the book) that I must mention them individually. They were Mrs Peter Tabor (née Juliet ‘Mollie’ Acland) and Mrs William Tait Campbell (née Rhoda Walker-Heneage-Vivian). But I am enormously grateful to all the following, who answered my questionnaire, and/or my letters and phone calls, and gave me useful and often very detailed information: the Marquess of Abergavenny; the Hon. Mrs Callinicos (née the Hon. Aedgyth Acton) ; Countess Raben (née Noreen Bailey); Mrs Charles Morton (née Betty Blake); Mrs John Shaw (née Eve Buxton); Earl Cathcart; Lady Caroline Waterhouse (née Lady Caroline Spencer-Churchill) ; Margaret, Lady Amherst of Hackney (née Margaret Clifton-Brown); the Hon. Mrs Moore (née the Hon. Sheila Digby) ; Lady Foley (née Ghislaine Dresselhuys) ; Lady Gillian Anderson (née Lady Gillian Drummond) ; Lady Bridget Miller Mundy (née Lady Bridget Elliot) ; Mrs Carrick-Smith (née Lindsey Furneaux) ; Lord Glendevon; Mrs Michael Gordon-Watson (née Thalia Gordon); Mrs Millard (née Lola Grixoni) ; Lady Brigid Ness (née Lady Brigid Guinness) ; Lady Gibson-Watt (née Diana Hambro) ; Lady Elizabeth Bonsor (née Elizabeth Hambro) ; the Countess of Cromer (née the Hon. Esmé Harmsworth) ; Lady Desmond Chichester (née Felicity Harrison) ; Miss Helen Hoare ; Mrs M.O.Pease (née Virginia Hughes-Onslow); Mrs Peter Dean (née Cynthia Joseph); the Hon. Lady Hood (née the Hon. Ferelith Ken-worthy) ; Mr Anthony Loch ; Lady Jean Leslie Melville ; Mrs Peter Green (née Susan Meyrick) ; the Duchess of Northumberland (née Lady Elizabeth Montagu Douglas Scott) ; Miss Barbara Murray ; Mrs Daphne Seidler (née Daphne Pearson) ; Lady Killearn (née Nadine Pilcher) ; Mrs Charles D’Oyly (née Mary Pollock); Mrs Jack Harrison-Cripps (née Margaret Proby); Mrs R.M.Chaplin (née Susan Ridley); Lord Savile; Mrs Diana Collins (née Diana Trafford) ; Mr George Turnbull; Lady Aldenham (née Mary Tyser); Mrs Rhona Peyton-Jones (née Rhona Wood).

  I am also indebted to Mr John Titman, the Secretary to the Lord Chamberlain’s Office, for his help in identifying debutantes who were presented in 1939.

  Two particular debts remain. The first is to Mr Peter Townend, editor of Burke’s Peerage and Social Editor of the Tatler. His encyclopaedic knowledge of the British upper classes, not merely over the last fifty years, but stretching back two or three centuries, never ceased to amaze me. He was extraordinarily generous in placing this expertise at my disposal. He allowed me to come to his flat and consult his personal archives of the Bystander. He took dozens of telephone calls from me, answering questions which ranged from the most ignorant to the most obscure. He checked my manuscript for correct nomenclature, and saved me from several howlers. The howlers that remain are all my own. The specialized know
ledge is all his.

  In addition, Mrs Peter Green (née Susan Meyrick) sent me a treasure through the post, in the form of her wonderful scrapbook for the decade 1936–46, which kept me and my family enthralled for hours. It has provided many of the illustrations for this book ; but also gave me the atmosphere of the period, by way of the ephemera that she had carefully preserved, which was invaluable. I am most grateful to her for entrusting her precious album to me.

  Finally, for the spadework in getting together the evidence for this book and then presenting it in an orderly form, my thanks go to Miss Isobel Beney, for her help with transcription of tapes, and to my daughter, Carolyn Butler, who typed the manuscript immaculately … and twice.

  ANGELA LAMBERT

  London, January-August 1988

  References

  Part One: The Girls from the Stately Homes of England

  Chapter One: Becoming a Deb is a Difficult Matter

  1. Conor Cruise O’Brien on Evelyn Waugh, New York Review of Books, 4 February 1988.

  2. Nicholas Mosley, Beyond the Pale (Seeker & Warburg, 1983), p. 151.

  3. Jonathan Gathorne-Hardy, The Rise and Fall of the English Nanny (Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1972), pp. 200 and 24.

  4. Jessica Mitford, Hons and Rebels (Quartet edn, 1978), pp. 10–11.