TWENTY-FIVE
Reading edition
By Beverley Nichols
PRELUDE PATCHWORK SELF
25
BEING A YOUNG MAN’S CANDID RECOLLECTIONS OF HIS ELDERS AND BETTERS
By BEVERLEY NICHOLS
NEW YORK GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY
COPYRIGHT, 1926, BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY
25 —B— PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
IN WHICH SOME ENGLISH GENTLEMEN SET OUT ON A STRANGE JOURNEY 11
CHAPTER TWO
PRESIDENTS—LEAN AND FAT 21
CHAPTER THREE
CONTAINING A FRUITLESS SEARCH FOR AMERICAN VULGARITY 31
CHAPTER FOUR
JOHN MASEFIELD, ROBERT BRIDGES, W. B. YEATS 36
CHAPTER FIVE
IN WHICH MR. G. K. CHESTERTON REVEALS HIS FEARS AND HIS HOPES 50
CHAPTER SIX
IN WHICH MRS. ASQUITH BEHAVES WITH CHARACTERISTIC ENERGY 56
CHAPTER SEVEN
IN WHICH MR. WINSTON CHURCHILL LOSES HIS TEMPER, AND MR. HORATIO BOTTOMLEY WINS HIS DEBATE 62
CHAPTER EIGHT
BEING AN IMPRESSION OF TWO LADIES OF GENIUS 73
CHAPTER NINE
IN WHICH WE MEET A GHOST 84
CHAPTER TEN
IN WHICH I JOURNEY TO GREECE 99
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CONCERNING THE CONFIDENCES OF A QUEEN 112
CHAPTER TWELVE
STRANGE TALES OF A MONARCH AND A NOVELIST 120
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
FROM THE REGAL TO THE RIDICULOUS 133
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
IN WHICH SIR WILLIAM ORPEN AND MRS. ELINOR GLYN REVEAL THEIR SOULS 146
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CONCERNING TWO ARTISTS IN A DIFFERENT SPHERE 156
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
HANGED BY THE NECK 165
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
TWO PLAIN AND ONE COLOURED 174
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
A LAMB IN WOLF’S CLOTHING 183
CHAPTER NINETEEN
TWO BIG MEN AND ONE MEDIUM 189
CHAPTER TWENTY
A MEMORY—AND SOME SONGS 201
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
HICKS—HICKS—AND NOTHING BUT HICKS 210
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
SHOWING HOW A GENIUS WORSHIPPED DEVILS IN THE MOUNTAINS 218
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
A DEFENCE OF DRAMATIC CRITICS 224
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
IN WHICH WILLIAM SOMERSET MAUGHAM MAKES A DELICATE GRIMACE 232
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
IN WHICH MICHAEL ARLEN DISDAINS PINK CHESTNUTS 240
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CONTAINING THE HIDEOUS TRUTH ABOUT NOEL COWARD 248
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
IN WHICH I ALLOW MYSELF TO BE ENTIRELY SENTIMENTAL 255
to GEORGE AND BLANCHE
FOREWORD
Twenty-five seems to me the latest age at which anybody should write an autobiography. It has an air of finality about it, as though one had clambered to the summit of a great hill, and were waving good-bye to some very distant country which can never be revisited.
A delicious age, you may agree, but an age too irresponsible for the production of autobiographies. Why, I ask you? The bones of a young man of twenty-five (according to the medical profession) are duly set, his teeth are ranged in their correct places, and many arid pastures have been made beautiful by the sowing of his wild oats. Why then, not write about some of the exciting people he has seen, while they still excite him?
That is the essence of the whole matter, to write of these things before it is too late. This is an age of boredom, and by the time one is thirty, I am terribly afraid that the first flush of enthusiasm may have worn off. It is quite possible that by then I shall no longer be thrilled by the sight of Arnold Bennett twisting his forelock at a first night, and that the vision of Elinor Glyn eating quantities of cold ham at the Bath Club (a sight which, to-day, never fails to amuse) will not move me in the least.
It is also possible that my indignations will have suffered a similar cooling, that I shall no longer feel faintly sick at the sight of the new Regent Street, and shall be able to view the idolization by the British people of Mr. George Robey, if not with approbation, at least with tolerance.
It is to be hoped that this will not be the case, but you must admit, from your own experience of young men who have grown up, that it is quite on the cards. They are faithless to their first hates, they have forgotten their first loves. They turn from the dreams of Oxford to the nightmares of the city, just because the dream is difficult, and the nightmare is so easy. In fact, they grow old.
That is why I have written this book. And from the decrepitude of thirty I shall write another on the same lines. It will be called ‘Making the Most of Twenty-Eight.’
B. N.