After several years of wandering, Dorothy and family settle into a flat near Earl’s Court in London, and John starts at a school in Chelsea while Dorothy stays in touch with old friends. They visit Ireland in the summer, and Dorothy visits Paris with her uncle Sir Robert Hadfield in October.
Introduction
Previous: 1933-34
Next: 1936
Coleherne Court 1934 – 1939
In November 1934 we moved to 19 Coleherne Court, to a flat we had taken for five years. It was on the ground floor, and some of the windows opened on the big garden round which the blocks of flats were built. John was able to play in the garden a lot, and loved it.
Coleherne Court still exists; it is near Earl’s Court in western London. Forty-five years later, Lady Diana Spencer lived at 60 Coleherne Court from 1979 until her marriage to Prince Charles (now King Charles III) in 1981. By an amusing coincidence, one of Diana’s Coleherne Court flatmates was played in the TV series The Crown by a great-granddaughter of Lyla Lamb née Letitia Mary Whyte, my grandfather’s favourite sister.
Augusta Bages, who had been with Zora and Dollie off and on for years as house-parlourmaid, when they had a villa, not, of course, when they were in an hotel, heard we were taking a flat and asked if she might come to us. She didn’t speak English, but she soon learnt it.
I find an Augusta Noelie Marie Bages, born in Aveyron in southern France in 1896, who died in Hammersmith in 1990, who seems to be the right age.
She really did speak some already, I find I said in a letter to Zora, but I always talked French with her. She was thrilled by all the electric gadgets, cooker, etc. She and I worked hard at making curtains and Billy and the estate carpenter put them up – just in time for a party we gave for Maurice and Ethel who had come over for a few days.
Dorothy’s aunt Zora, formally Lily Wickersham, lived from 1870 to 1956. She gave Dorothy an allowance which was Dorothy’s main income. She is buried in the same grave as her mother, her sister, her brother-in-law and her niece Dorothy in Brookwood Cemetery in Surrey; I tracked it down in September 2022, on the day of Queen Elizabeth II’s funeral.
Maurice Ignatius Whyte (1888-1956) was the youngest of Billy’s eight brothers, and at this point the only other one still alive. He married Ethel Mary Fitzgerald (1893-1974) in 1921. They did not have any children. I do not remember ever meeting her.
Lyla was in London, with the girls, and Kathleen had a flat in London then too.
Letitia Mary Whyte (1872-1938), known as Lyla, was the second of Billy’s four full sisters, and his favourite. She married Stephen Eaton Lamb (1860-1928) in 1898, and they lived at Scotby in Cumbria. She had three daughters, Mildred (1899–1967), Helen (1901–1969) and Jessica (1916–1969), none of whom married, and two sons who will be mentioned later, Chris (1909-1964) who became a Jesuit, and Dick (1911-1999) who has many descendants.
Vera James was living very near us. She came to the party and went home to find her maid had left without notice, just leaving a note to say she couldn’t face Vera to tell her. For a few days we had to have Sheila all day; Rowley was out at work, Vera was teaching in a school where Ginia went too, and Patsy was in a nursery. Then Vera got someone else and all was well.
Vera Bideleux (1899-1983) had been Dorothy’s friend since they met in Paris in 1989. She married Rowley James (1900-1938) in 1926; I actually remember meeting Vera a couple of times myself. Their children were Virginia (1928-2022, later Virginia Youdale), Patsy (Elizabeth M.Q. James, born 1929) and Sheila (1931-2020, later Sheila Whitfield).
Zora and Dollie, that winter, were at the Hotel Windsor in Cannes.
Dollie Sperling, born Blanche Lucy Rigg (1872-1946), had married Frederick Harvey Erskine Sperling (1868-1921) in 1906, and was a very close friend of Zora’s.
Caroline came to stay with us, one of our first visitors. In a letter to Zora I said that we were giving a cocktail party, had invited about 80 people, and that it wasn’t going to cost more than £5!
Caroline Mary Whyte (1871-1969) was Billy’s oldest sister, married to Charles Edward MacDermot (1862-1947).
Bercie Tainter was staying at 22 then. We met the de Burgh Whytes – distant cousins.
“22” is 22 Carlton House Terrace, the London home of the Hadfields.
This is the first we’ve heard of Bercie Tainter since 1918, though Dorothy had seen her a lot during her schooldays in Virginia. She was born Susan Bayard Ryckman (1872-1954), and was married to Frank Stone Tainter (1862-1942).
The de Burgh Whytes, who Dorothy previously met in 1927, are probably William John de Burgh Whyte (1875-1940, Billy’s second cousin once removed), his wife Geraldine nee Vaux (1890-1967) and their daughters Amicie (1913-2001) and Joan (1917-1955).
The Kent wedding took place in December 1934. Because of the murder of King Alexander so short a time before, very special precautions were taken – Prince Paul of Jugoslavia was there – and the wedding procession went by car very quickly; then afterwards the Duke and Duchess of Kent drove all through the streets slowly so people could see them; presumably the Prince had left by then.
There is a whole Wikipedia page on the wedding of Prince George, Duke of Kent (a younger son of King George V) and Princess Marina of Greece and Denmark on 29 November 1934. They had been introduced to each other by Prince Paul of Yugoslavia (Princess Marina’s brother-in-law), who had been regent of his own country since the assassination of his cousin King Alexander the previous month.
The very first party we had in the flat was for Ginia James’s 6th birthday, as Vera had so little room at her place. The curtains weren’t even up – we didn’t finish them till after Augusta came.
I found another French maid, Marie-Louise Grandjean, who was with Joan Bottard, a friend of Vera’s, looking after her little boy, and I arranged for her and Augusta to meet and they became great friends. Marie-Louise used to come to help at all our parties on her day off.
Joan Bottard (1899-1991) was the daughter of William Ward-Higgs (1866-1936) and Haydee Nathalie Becker (1869-1951). She married Henri Pierre Marie Joseph Bottard (1893-1931) in 1929, so had been widowed young. Her son was Donatien Pierre Bottard (1931-1962).
We had a party for John before Christmas, as he hadn’t met many children yet – but he soon did. And there were the children in the garden to play with; he loved that.
In January he started going to Gibbs’s School in Sloane Street.
John’s most distinguished contemporary at Gibbs’s School was probably the theatrical agent Richard Armitage (1928-1986). The future politicians Robert F. Kennedy (1925-1968) and Edward “Teddy” Kennedy (1932-2009) also attended Gibbs’ from 1938 to 1940, when their father served as US ambassador in London. But, as we shall see, John left Gibbs’ at the end of 1937, before the Kennedy boys arrived, so they did not overlap.
There is a surviving photograph of pupils at Gibbs’ in 1936, which must include John if he was there that day; my eye for faces is not good enough to pick him out.
At first someone always went with him, but once he got to know the buses he went alone; actually for a time I used to go on the same bus, but on top, where he wouldn’t see me, until I was quite sure he could manage all right.
One day we went to Horsley [presumably either East Horsley or West Horsley in Surrey] to lunch with some people we’d met in Majorca. Their son was at one of these progressive schools where children do just as they like. At luncheon he ate with his knife, and at one moment leant over and helped himself to butter with his fingers, and smeared it on his bread. As he had flatly refused to wash his hands before luncheon, when John did, the butter was rather grubby. Billy said it made him feel quite sick and took away all his appetite. The mother said to me afterwards that they would have to take him away from the school; she couldn’t spend all the holidays trying to get him civilized; she said if she once began finding fault she’d never stop!
In January Magda came to stay, and Augusta much appreciated her very good French.
Magda, née Magdalena Esther Mary Grehan (1885-1972), was the widow of Billy’s elder brother George and lived in the family home, Loughbrickland House.
I had started a correspondence course in writing; I did all right with the course, but alas have never had anything published.
We had Aileen Ryan to stay in January, and Caroline in February.
Aileen Ryan was Magda’s sister, born Aileen Mary Grehan (1890-1979), who had married Billy’s first cousin Jocelyn Ryan (1885-1927) in 1922. Jocelyn had died in a polo accident, leaving Aileen with two young children. Their daughter Mary then died aged nine in 1933, so quite recently in 1935, and their son Gerard was killed in action in 1944.
John loved Gibbs’s. I said in one letter: “It’s such fun having him come home and tell us about school each day. They all seem to love it; Sloane Street in the morning is filled with cherry-red caps with beaming faces under them, all tearing to school – they prefer to get there half an hour early!”
Kitty Merrick was doing Alexander work in London and was sharing a flat with two other girls quite near us till she had a breakdown.
Kitty Merrick (1900-1988), from 1946 Countess Wielopolska, was a schoolfriend of Dorothy’s who had become a leading exponent of the Alexander Technique.
We saw a good deal of Marjorie Maas, and something of Oscar, her husband, and Norah Nisbet, whom we’d met in Majorca, and Fred Whyte – his brother Jack was spending the winter at the Windsor in Cannes, so Zora saw a lot of him. I played a good deal of bridge, often with Lyla. but found it was taking up so much time that I gave it up. I was writing a great deal.
Marjorie Maas (1893-1988), born Marjorie Pope in Massachusetts, had married Henry Oscar (“H.O.”) Maas in 1923. She had had got to know Dorothy in Penang.
Norah Mary Stewart Nisbet (1907-1957) was a published poet who Dorothy had got to know in Majorca.
Frederick Henry Whyte (1867-1941) was a second cousin of Billy’s on the Whyte side but, confusingly, a first cousin once removed on the Ryan side. He was a moderately distinguished writer, who had moved to Sweden after the first world war.
Frederick’s brother John Frederick “Jack” Whyte (1865-1947) had had a distinguished career working as a British agent in the Persian Gulf.
John was top of his class, but didn’t altogether like it as it meant that he had to lead the class everywhere it went, and being a new boy he sometimes made mistakes and was put right by the others all shouting at him at once !
Fred Whyte took me to tea with G.K. Chesterton, who was most amusing. He sat in an armchair so small that it was a wonder he could get into it and still more that he could get out of it, but apparently he always used that particular chair.
The great writer G.K. Chesterton (1874-1936) died the following year, aged 62. He lived at Beaconsfield in Buckinghamshire, which is quite a long way to go for afternoon tea if you are starting in Earl’s Court.
Frederic Whyte had a lot of very high level literary connections. In his autobiography he recounts an incident from 1898, when he was giving a public lecture and was heckled from the audience by both George Bernard Shaw and Bram Stoker, which sounds terrifying. He also has a chapter about exploring phrenology with G.K. Chesterton.
Maisie Warden came for a night in February, and again in March, and Marion Buist came for a night.
Mary Jacqueline “Maisie” Bideleux (1902-2002) was one of Vera James’ sisters. She had married William John McKendrick “Ken” Warden (1904-1980) in 1928 and they lived in Singapore.
Marion Carruthers Smythe (1875-1953) married Frederick Braid Buist né Sparks (1861-1946) in 1894, and was a close family friend.
Billy had started doing research into the Whyte family and spent a great deal of time at the British Museum.
John was doing very well at school; his form-mistress, Miss Newman, said he was amazingly intelligent and that nothing seemed any effort to him. He and I went to see the boat-race, with Billy.
The 1935 Boat Race was held on 6 April. Cambridge won easily, for the twelfth time in a row.
One day Kitty West and I went to a spiritualist meeting at the Friends’ Hall. I wrote to Zora:
“The medium got up and walked about the stage delivering messages, in a high-pitched girlish voice, to various members of the audience. Suddenly she said she had a message for “White”. She wasn’t looking at me, and white is a common name, and there were 800 people there, so I didn’t put up my hand, but later she said again she had a message for ‘White or Watt’ and I put my hand up and said my name was Whyte. She said: ‘James is here; he tells you to take care. And Granny Whyte is here and says to be careful, you are giving so much to others, you must keep some for yourself. And Grannie Whyte is putting a silver star on your forehead.’ Now I ask you! On our way home Kitty drove me back – she said gravely; ‘Of course, Dorothy, I don’t mean to say that you aren’t good to people, because I think you are, but I never thought it was wearing you out!’ Oh I did laugh! the only James I know in the next world is our dear Jimmy (my aunt’s little French bull terrier which had died) and I don’t think they’d give me a message from him. All the messages were from people telling their friends to take care, or not to grieve. It wasn’t inspiring, to me at least.”
Kitty West, born Katrine Mary Mather (1878-1960), had hosted Dorothy in 1923, and organised her dance with the Prince of Wales.
I have only once attended a Spiritualist service myself, and like Dorothy, I was very unimpressed.
At John’s end of term exams I had to go with him to write down his answers at dictation. Each boy was supposed to bring someone to do this, but one child had arrived without anyone, so when I’d finished with John I wrote his answers too. When he’d finished he said: “I suppose John Whyte will be first in this; he’s nearly always first because he’s so good at everything except French; that’s his only bad subject but most of mine are bad!”
At the end of term school prize-giving John was second to the next boy by just one mark, 860 against 861.
We had acquired a cat, or rather a kitten, black, named Nicholas, or Nicky. He adored riding on the bottom shelf of the trolley.
The cat had been given to the Whytes by the Tollemaches, who they lodged with immediately before moving to Colherne Court. As far as I know, I am not named after the cat. (Spoiler: the story of the cat has a sad ending.)
In April Bunnie was at 22. As usual, she gave me some lovely clothes. In May, 1935, there was the Jubilee [the 25th anniversary of King George V’s reign, celebrated on 6 May]. We got two tickets at our Club – the In and Out [formally the Naval and Military Club] – and Uncle Bobby gave us two for the Reform Club. Bunty was coming to stay with us and Billy was taking her to our club and I took John to the Reform. But poor Bunty developed flu just as she was leaving and couldn’t come till later, so Billy took Gwen Saunders. John and I saw everything perfectly. Bunnie and Uncle Bobby were in the procession and it halted just when they were in front of us, to John’s joy. Bunnie was wearing beige with a brown feathered hat, and Uncle Bobby was in Court dress. Billy had been in Cumberland for ten days with Lyla in April; she wanted him very much as Chris and Dick were both at home, but I didn’t go, really largely because of the expense – we weren’t at all well off then. John had a party for his birthday, April 30th. He had six guests, all boys.
Bunnie and Uncle Bobby are Dorothy’s aunt, Zora’s older sister, Lady Frances Hadfield (1862-1949) and her husband Sir Robert Hadfield (1858-1940). Bunnie and Zora’s sister, Dorothy’s mother Rebecca, had died thirty years before.
Bunty is Magda’s daughter, formally Esther Theresa Mary Whyte (1917-2000), a favourite elder relative of mine from my own childhood.
I have no information about Gwen Saunders, but she is mentioned again below as a friend from Malaya days. I do note a New Zealand newspaper report of 16 March 1935 of a Gwen Saunders of Dunedin who is “visiting relatives and friends in the Homeland [sic].” Among her well-wishers are a Peggy Whyte. I don’t however know of a Peggy Whyte in the extended family at that time.
John started stamp-collecting about this time. A propos of that, Vera had a harrowing story to tell. When she was a child someone gave her a very good collection, but she thought the perforated edges were ugly so she carefully trimmed them all off. Not long before she told us about it, Rowley had taken the collection to a stamp dealer who said that had the stamps not been trimmed, one alone would have been worth several hundred pounds, and the whole collection over a thousand, but of course as it was they were worthless.
One evening in May I went with Bunnie and Uncle Bobby to Sir Joseph Petavel’s house, Bushy Park. I said in a letter to Zora:
“There were fireworks by the village of Teddington, which we watched, and the house itself is beautiful – was a royal residence and Sir Joseph has exquisite things. As he is a bachelor Lady Robertson entertained for him and showed me a lot of the house. I liked her very much but Bunnie was patient and long-suffering; I was hardly able to beep from laughing each time l looked at her. All the guests were scientists and their wives were dressed in fearful and wonderful clothes, with intelligent, ugly faces and bad make-up. Uncle Bobby was so pleased and Bunnie so bored! Oh they are funny!”
Sir Joseph Petavel (1873-1936) was the second director of the National Physical Laboratory, then as now based in Bushy Park in Teddington.
“Lady Robertson” is probably Lady Kathleen Roberston nee Stannus (1874-1939), the wife of the chemist Sir Robert Robertson (1869-1949).
I have to say I wonder how Dorothy got into the dinner party. Perhaps Bunnie insisted that Sir Robert bring her as someone she knew she could talk to.
Nancy and Billy Manhard were in London that spring and we saw them.
I find a Nancy Manhard, nee Ponton (~1886-1936), married to William Edward Manhard of Westport Connecticut, and who is recorded in a lot of transatlantic passenger records, and also appears with Dorothy and the Sperlings in a photograph taken in Pompeii in 1912. The records of William Edward Manhard are confusing, and I think there may be several people of the same name who have got combined by my sources: the suggested dates are 1883-1969, with a couple more marriages thrown in.
John started swimming lessons with other boys from the school.
Bunty came to us for the week-end on her way back to school at Ascot.
We went to a musical party at Bunnie’s, Billy and I, and enjoyed it but I never found out the names of the harpist or her accompanist. Mary Enniskillen was there (Mary Syers; she married first Tim Syers who died on Armistice Day 1918, and then married Lord E. this very year, I think).
Mary Cicely Nevill (1879-1963) did indeed lose her first husband, Thomas Scott Syers (1883-1918) in the war, and married John Cole, 5th Earl Enniskillen (1876-1963) in 1932, not 1935. Her daughter Sonia Syers (1918-1982) married her stepfather’s nephew David Lowry Cole (1918-1989), who in due course inherited his uncle’s title and became the 6th Earl of Enniskillen. He and Sonia had divorced by then, but as Sonia Cole she became a well-known archaeologist and anthropologist, associated closely with Mary Leakey.
We also went to Cecil Lomax’s wedding and saw a lot of the people I’d known in Egypt, which was fun. The Breitmeyers, Swanee Roselli, Basil Allfrey, his sister Phyllis and her husband, Donald Erskine and his mother etc.
These people were all mentioned in the Egypt section of the 1923 memoir.
Cecil Chadwick Lomax (1898-1988) married Margaret Elizabeth Brand (1911-1994) on 3 June 1935. They had three children who may still be living.
Geraldine Kirby (1896-1982) had married Geoffrey Wyndham Breitmeyer (1898-1952) as noted by Dorothy in 1924.
I have been unable to identify Swanee Roselli, who is noted in 1923 as running a cotton mill on the Nile Delta.
Basil Holmsdale Allfrey (1898-1981) married Adeline Elizabeth Daphne Fox (1906-2005) in 1929, and by 1935 they had two children, but they divorced in 1939.
His sister Phyllis Allfrey (1901-1979) married Lancelot Joynson-Hicks (1902-1983) in 1931. Lancelot later became MP for Chichester and then the third Baron Brentford.
Donald Cardross Flower Erskine (1899-1984) was the son of Montagu Erskine, 6th Baron Erskine of Restomel (1865-1957), and Florence Flower (1869-1936). He married Christina Baxendale (1906-1994) in 1927, and had four children. He inherited the title of Baron Erskine in 1957 from his father, and the title of Earl of Buchan from a distant cousin in 1960.
Zora came to stay with us in July for a week, then went to 22, so of course I have no letters during that time, as I was seeing her or talking to her on the telephone nearly every day.
At the beginning of August we went to Coolavin, to stay with Caroline and Charlie; Ruth was at home, and Joan Ryan, also Charlie’s sister Georgie Mac Dermot, and then Gladys Mac Dermot came too. The reservoir was dry so there was no running water, but drinking water could be brought from the Holy Well – I don’t know where they got the water for washing, possibly from the lake.
Coolavin was the MacDermots’ home in County Sligo.
Ruth Mary MacDermot (1915-1987) was Caroline and Charlie’s youngest child.
Joan Ryan (1918-1976) was one of the Ryan relatives, the daughter of Lewis Kenneth Vivian “Tuppoo” Ryan (1893-1922) who was a first cousin of Billy, Caroline and the other Whytes.
Georgie is probably Mary Georgina Priscilla MacDermot (1879-1972), who was Charlie’s half-sister, the eleventh of his father’s thirteen children.
Gladys MacDermot née Löwenadler (1887-1962) was the wife of Charlie’s half-brother Henry Patrick Mary Blake “Hal” MacDermot (1873-1963), the seventh of their father’s thirteen children. Gladys and Hal married in 1911 and had three children.
We had to leave Nicky with the vet in London, as Augusta was away too, and he died there of that cat flu which was rampant at the time. [As I warned, a sad ending.]
At Coolavin we had a very nice peaceful time. We bathed in the lake and went on picnics in Charlie’s beloved motor-launch which was always breaking down. Jessica and Chris Lamb came to stay. Unfortunately Caroline was ill in bed; the doctor was afraid of pleurisy. I said to Zora: “Christopher is such a charming boy; he is the one who is going to be a priest, you know. We’re a very happy party and it is sad that Caroline, who so loves a party, is missing it.”
One afternoon we all went over to French Park, except for Caroline and Gladys, who had also been in bed with her heart. The Frenches are cousins of the Lambs. Little Francis played with John; his sisters were all older – he was the only boy. Lord De Freyne was obviously very ill – TB, I imagine – though up and watching the tennis, but Vicky, his wife, was obviously very worried. French Park was a really lovely house, but there wasn’t much money and they didn’t have an easy time.
Lord de Freyne was Francis French, 6th Baron de Freyne (1884-1935); his mother Marie Georgiana Lamb (1856-1923) was the sister of Lyla’s husband Stephen Eaton Lamb.
Lord de Freyne was indeed very ill, and died on Christmas Eve that year. He was married to Lina Victoria “Vicky” Arnott (1887-1974) who survived him by nearly three decades.
As Dorothy reports, their first four children were girls, born between 1917 and 1925. Their son, also Francis French, soon to become 7th Baron de Freyne (1927-2009) was eight months older than John Whyte. He sold the Frenchpark estate in 1952, and the Georgian manor house was demolished in the 1970s.
While we were out Caroline got up and sat in her room, and was running a temperature again that evening, so we got the doctor again next day. We were to have left for Loughbrickland on the 23rd but we put it off as I didn’t like leaving Caroline till she was better.
Meanwhile Dollie Sperling was ill in Folkestone and had to have an operation, and Zora went to stay with her – or rather to stay at Meyrick House, where she had been staying, but of course went to a nursing home for the operation. Luckily Dr. Ginner from Cannes, whom Dollie liked very much, was able to come and, I think, to assist at the operation.
The Meyrick Court Hotel was at 8-10 Trinity Crescent, Folkestone; the building is still there, but it has been converted into flats.
Dr Ginner is Ernest Wightman Ginner (1876-1960), the English doctor in Cannes, who had followed in the footsteps of his father Isaac Benjamin Ginner (1841-1895). His brother and sister became famous in the arts.
I’m wrong when I say we should have left on the 23rd; that is the day we actually did leave, but we had meant to leave on the 19th. Charlie was very nice when we left, kissed me and said that if I hadn’t looked after Caroline so well she would never have recovered so quickly. She was downstairs before we left, and Charlie’s joy at having her down again was most touching.
I had offered to go to Zora, but it would have meant taking John and evidently Zora said not to come, as we didn’t go. Nancy with Pat and Teddy were at Loughbrickland but were going on to Coolavin. Caroline had asked me to stop them if I could, and Nancy always upset Charlie and Caroline didn’t feel she could cope. So when Nancy asked me to tell her frankly if I thought they should go, I did tell her I thought it would be better if they didn’t, and she was furious. Said I was interfering between her and her favourite sister, and told Caroline when she got there and Caroline agreed that it was most officious of me; years later she said she wondered that I’d ever forgiven her!
Nancy was Anna Mary Whyte (1874-1954), one of Billy’s five sisters. She married Louis William Corbally in 1906; he was killed in the First World War. She had two sons, Pat (Marcus Joseph Patrick Matthew Corbally, 1907-1983), who I remember meeting, and Teddy (Edward John Corbally, 1909-1981); she also had two daughters, Biddy (Dorothy Mary Corbally, 1910-1981) and Molly (Mary Corbally, 1911-2008).
On September 2nd we went to Scotby House [home of the Lambs]. All this time Augusta had been with Zora – I was wrong when I said she’d gone on holiday. As they wanted to keep her of course we had to let her go.
All the Lambs, Lyla, Mildie, Helen, Chris, Dick and Jess were at home, also an American, Cunningem, Cambridge friend of Christopher’s, I think, and Billy Vyvyan. As always, we loved being there, and had a pleasant peaceful time. The other guests left and Dick went off to play in a tournament, tennis, of course.
No idea about “Cunningem”, whose name was probably “Cunningham”.
I have also been unable to identify “Billy Vyvyan”, who from context could be another Cambridge friend of Christopher Lamb’s.
We went back to London on the 10th. we had a good char, Mrs. Goodenough but I began to try to get a permanent maid. I went down to spend the day with Zora and saw Dollie, still in the nursing home. Uncle Bobby took me to lunch at the Piccadilly with some Indians, Mr. and Mrs. Sahni. I remember she didn’t speak any English, and she ate nothing, just sat at the table looking most attractive in her sari. Mary Enniskillen was staying at 22. One night Uncle Bobby had some people give a puppet show. The only guests were ourselves, Col. and Mrs. Forbes, Jan Juta, and of course Mary. We got someone from the “Universal Aunts” to stay with John.
It’s tempting to think that Mr Sahni was one of the distinguished Indian Sahni family of scientists, Ruchi Ram Sahni (1863-1948) or one of his sons Birbal Sahni (1891-1949) and Mulk Raj Sahni (1899-1982). All three specialized in paleobotany and palaeontology, which was not Sir Robert’s area, but they could have got to know each other through the Royal Society or other professional links.
No idea about Colonel Forbes or his wife. I find a Lieutenant-Colonal Harry Forbes (1865-1949), but he was Scottish and I don’t find a record of his marriage.
Jan Juta (1895-1990) was a famous artist who Dorothy had got to know in France, and who also painted a portrait of Bunnie.
The “Universal Aunts” are still going strong.
A few days later we lunched with the Clarkes, Bob and Gladys, and Beryl and Clare Schultzbrandt (Gladys’s half-sister) were also there.
Margaret Mary Gladys Clarke née Whyte (1880-1966) was Billy’s first cousin on the Whyte side, just seven months younger than him, the daughter of his father’s brother Edward Whyte (1839-1904) by his second marriage to Catherine Codd (1857-1909). Gladys married Robert Thomas Clarke (1871-1953) in 1907. I’m glad to say that I have got to know one of their grandchildren, who lives in Brussels.
Beryl Elizabeth Kathleen Mary Clarke (1910-1986) was Gladys and Bob Clarke’s daughter (they also had two sons); she married Charles Richard Rumboll (1908-1984) in 1938.
Clara Jessica Mary Whyte (1871-1953) was indeed Gladys’ half sister, Edward Whyte’s daughter from his first marriage to Jessica Rutherford (1845-1877). She married Antonius Schulze-Berndt in 1919. He died in 1974; we don’t know his date of birth, but it’s likely that he was some years younger than Clara.
We saw a good many of our Malayan friends in London; the Stratton-Ferriers, the Gossips, Gwen Saunders, the Corbet-Singletons and others, and once Billy and I went for the day to the Coddringtons who had a lovely house in Hertfordshire, I think. They told us an odd story. Once Mrs. C. had a very vivid dream, when they were still in Malaya, but were thinking of coming home. She dreamt that they were living in a house in the country and described it in detail to her husband. In her dream there was someone ill upstairs and they had to be careful not to make too much noise. In due course they came home and were looking for somewhere to live, when he most unexpectedly inherited a house from an aunt or uncle whom he had hardly known. They went to see it and at once his wife said it was the house she had dreamed about. But there was no one ill upstairs then – that came later, when her father came to live with them and died there after a long illness.
The “Stratton-Ferriers”, not previously mentioned, seem likely to be William Stratton Ferrier (1893–1969) and Olive Mary nee Morgan (1904-1996), who were married in 1925. She was born in Australia and they both died there; he was one of several sons of the Scottish artist George Stratton-Ferrier, but all of his siblings seem to have used either just “Stratton” or just “Ferrier” as their surnames.
Dr James Gossip (1889-1977) was from Inverness, and moved to Penang in 1920; his wife, born Elsie Marguerite Grange (1897-1980) was from Lancashire. They married in Penang in 1923.
As noted above, Gwen Saunders may have been from New Zealand.
Morice Grant Corbet-Singleton (1894-1963) and Enid Mary nee McIlwraith (1903-1957) had been unwittingly instrumental in Dorothy and Billy meeting in Penang in 1927.
The “Coddringtons” are more likely to have been “Codringtons” with one ‘d’, but I have not been able to trace them.
Mr. Hansell died in September. I hadn’t seen him for years; he had paralysis agitans and didn’t want me to see him. I wrote sometimes, and his nurse answered, as he couldn’t write.
Henry Peter Hansell (1863-1935) had been a tutor to the British royal family, and then to the Romanian royal family, which was how Dorothy had met him in 1921.
I finally got a maid, Ellen, forget her surname. She was small but sturdy and seemed most efficient. I felt so confident in her that I gladly accepted to go with Uncle Bobby to Paris where he was to be given something very high up in the Legion d’Honneur – the Grand Croix I think. The party consisted of Uncle Bobby, Mr. Taylor, Little Nurse (Teddy Edwards, Uncle Bobby’s permanent nurse and such a darling) and Valerie Churchill-Longman. We stayed at the Ritz. There was a Congress of Metallurgists or something, and Uncle Bobby had to make a speech at the Sorbonne. He was in a very nervy state and Valerie, who was then about 19, couldn’t understand, and was a bit tiresome.
Mr Taylor was Wilfrid Doneraile Stanhope Taylor (1868-1954) seems to have been a secretary of Sir Robert Hadfield’s.
It’s clear from a photograph of the group that Teddy Edwards was a woman, but it is too common a name to track down any further, especially if a nickname.
Valerie Lee Kavanaugh Churchill-Longman (1916-1986), who went by “Valerie Churchill” in later life, was born in London to an Anglo-German father and a Pennsylvanian mother (who presumably must have been connected to Dorothy’s Pennsylvania relatives, including Lady Hadfield). She never married, though at one point was engaged to the famous British urban planner Niel Abercrombie (1911-1984).
The available biographies of Sir Robert Hadfield say that he was awarded the Legion d’Honneur in 1925, not 1935, but this must be a mistake; if he had been awarded it in 1925, Dorothy would certainly have noted it. She did note that in 1925 he was made a member of the French Societé de Chimie Industrielle. Dorothy was not super politically aware, but she knew the difference between that and the Legion d’Honneur.
We drove from London in Uncle Bobby’s Rolls, Douglas driving, on October 17th. That evening there was a cabaret show at the hotel.
The Rolls must have been pretty full as they drove from London to Paris!
I note that Douglas the chauffeur was not identified in the previous paragraph as being one of the party.
I said to Zora that there were very few people staying, but lots came for luncheon and at tea the place was crowded. Valerie and I did some shopping, and I took her for a flying glimpse of the Louvre, and in the afternoon of the day after we arrived we all went to the Conciergerie and Notre-Dame, Uncle Bobby included, and then to the Sorbonne as he wanted to see the conference room where he was to speak. I said that Paris was very deserted when it came to foreigners. But there were plenty of us, and apparently a Mr. Toutin was with us a good deal. I don’t think that can have been Bee’s husband, Roland Toutain [see below], but I can’t remember anything about the man.
One night when we were having a cocktail before dinner Uncle Bobby appeared, absolutely on time (unknown for him!) waved us all away, sat down on a sofa with a newspaper, and tore it gradually to bits and stored it under the sofa. Luckily we were the only people in the room so no one saw him.
Dorothy mentions her uncle’s problems with depression several times, but this is something else.
I had a chill or something and had to stay in bed one day. I forgot to say that our party included Dr. Trafford, Uncle Bobby’s doctor, so we were well supplied with medical attention. Just as well, as Valerie had a horrid go of sickness and Dr. Trafford said it was her appendix and that she must be careful and it would be a good thing if she had it out, as it might flare up at any time.
I have no information about Dr Trafford.
On the 21st Uncle Bobby had to make his speech. He had been terribly nervy, and also upset about the expense of everything. Bee was to come to join us and he seemed so worried over the extra expense of having her that I offered to go back to London, but he wouldn’t hear of it. He always wanted me to go with him if we were meeting French people, and I had to sit beside him at all luncheons, dinners etc. We dined – no, lunched – with the Guillets – he was the head of the Ecole Centrale. The speech went off fairly well; Uncle Bobby started it himself in French, and his accent was appalling, and then someone read the rest of it. Bee arrived on the 23rd; she was in the midst of getting a divorce from Roland. She dreaded the idea of running into him in Paris, but I don’t think she did.
One cringes for both Sir Robert and his audience.
The École Centrale Paris (officially the École Centrale des Arts et Manufactures, now part of CentraleSupélec) was the most prestigious engineering school in France.
Léon Guillet (1873-1946) was the head of the École Centrale Paris from 1922 to 1945, its third longest serving director. Like Sir Robert Hadfield, he was a metallurgist specialising in steel alloys.
Bee was Beatrix Caroline Marie Josephe de Buisseret (born 1910), the daughter of Belgian diplomat Count Conrad de Buisseret (1865-1927) and his American wife Caroline Story (1870-1914), who had been a friend of Dorothy’s aunts, but died of diphtheria during the first world war; the Hadfields were very close to her brothers Michel and François. Bee married first, Roland Toutain (1905-1977), a French actor, writer and stuntman, and second (from 1939 to 1969) Pierre Vanlaer (1904-1985), also an air pilot and stuntman; both marriages ended in divorce. I have not been able to find details of Bee’s death, though she was still alive when her brother Michel died in 1967.
Apparently Uncle Bobby had to make more than one speech, as on the 22nd I say that he is delighted to have his two worst speeches over. One day the whole congress went out to Chantilly, but I don’t remember anything about it. Another day there was a reception at the Elysée Palace, the President and Madame Lebrun. Uncle Bobby and the President seemed to hit it off very well, and I remember talking to a nice French general, but don’t remember his name. There was also a wonderful dinner at the grand Palais. As we were leaving I realised that Uncle Bobby was going off without speaking to his hostess, and I had to run after him and get him to come back.
Albert Lebrun (1871-1940) was the last French president of the Third Republic. Like Sir Robert Hadfield, he had an engineering background, though in mining rather than metallurgy. In 1940 he surrendered to the Germans and handed power to Marshal Petain. De Gaulle said of him later, “As a head of state he lacked two things: there was no state, and he wasn’t a head.”
Lebrun married Marguerite Jeanne Emilie Marguerite Lebrun Nivoit (1878-1947) in 1902. Her father was also a mining engineer. She spoke fluent English, which must have helped communications with Sir Robert.
In its issue of 26 October 1935, Nature records:
The seventh International Congress of Mining, Metallurgy and Applied Geology was opened at the Sorbonne, Paris, on October 20, and will continue until October 26. The President of the Republic, M. Lebrun, was present at the inaugural session. Sir Robert Hadfield, the delegate of the Iron and Steel Institute, presented to M. Lebrun a copy of the picture in the Bodleian Library, Oxford, depicting Roger Bacon presenting a book to the Chancellor of the University of Paris. Sir Robert also presented a miniature knife of steel made by Michael Faraday during the years 1819–24 while he was residing at the Royal Institution. The steel contains 0.74 per cent platinum. The weight of the blade is one-hundredth of an ounce, and that of the complete knife, one-twentieth of an ounce. Sir Robert suggested that the knife should be handed either to Dr. Leon Guillet, head of the Ecole Centrale des Arts et Manufactures, or to the Ecole des Mines.
Uncle Bobby was given a box for the Opera one night, but I don’t remember what we saw, except that I remember the children from the ballet school danced, and the floor of the stage was very dusty, so that they seemed to be dancing in a fog. He had invited Martha Hyde and Nancy de Croy – whom I may never have seen before, though I knew Martha, her sister, quite well – they were Mr. Leishmann’s daughters and he had been American Ambassador to Germany at one time. The German Crown Prince had been a bit too attentive to Nancy; once when they were driving somewhere people began cheering and he said to her:
“Bow! Bow! They think you’re my wife, so you must bow to them.” Nancy married the Prince – no, the Duc – de Croy, and had, I think, only one daughter. She was divorced from him soon after the first war, I believe. She was very charming, fair and gentle; Martha was dark and small and energetic; she had the prettiest feet and ankles. She was always very nice to me and thought Bunnie didn’t do enough for me, but she was quite wrong about that.
This is the first and I think only mention of the Leishman sisters. Their father, John George Alexander Leishman (1857-1924), was President of Carnegie Steel, which would explain the connection to Sir Robert Hadfield. Leishman was appointed as ambassador to Switzerland and then the Ottoman Empire by President McKinley, and to Italy and then Germany by President Taft, whose attorney-general was another of Dorothy’s uncles. The name Leishman may sound Germanic, but in fact both of his parents were from Belfast, Northern Ireland (where I too was born).
Leishman’s older daughter, Marthe (1882-1944) first married French aristocrat Count Clement Marie Roger Louis de Gontaut-Biron (1878-1907) in 1904; when he died aged 29, they were already negotiating a divorce. In 1913 she married James Hazen Hyde (1876-1959), the heir to the Equitable Life insurance company, but they divorced in 1917. She had one son, by her second marriage. She was friendly with the rather different composers Cole Porter and Francis Poulenc. A painting of her Paris apartment by the artist Walter Gay was recently sold for $1,220. Dorothy has not mentioned Marthe before, but presumably they knew each other from Dorothy’s Paris years (1919-27).
The younger Leishman daughter, Nancy (1894-1983), married German aristocrat Karl Rudolf, the 13th Duke von Croÿ (1889-1974), in 1913 just after the end of her father’s term as ambassador to Germany. She actually had a son and two daughters with him, rather than just one daughter as Dorothy thought. They divorced in 1922, and she remarried to Danish diplomat Markus Andreas von Oldenburg (1877-1939) in 1936. They had no more children, and he died only a few years into the marriage, but she stayed in Copenhagen for the rest of her life.
Dr. Trafford said that Valerie must NOT dance, but the evening after the opera we went, she and I, with Rudi de Wardener and Robert Bradford, to dine at the Cafe de Paris, went to the show at the Casino, and on to chez Florence, where I danced and she watched. Poor Valerie wasn’t easy to manage, and resented my efforts to take care of her very much. By this time Uncle Bobby had invited Rene Hansard and Gillian to drive back with him the following week. I had set my heart on getting back on the Sunday, Oct. 27th – or was it the day before? anyway, which ever it was, Uncle Bobby had said I could fly; of course when it came to the point he didn’t want me to – he hated anyone to fly – but I insisted. He had paid for absolutely everything; Mr. Taylor gave me money to take Valerie about, and for our evening with Rudi etc.
Baron Rudolf Theodore de Wardener (1887-1962) had shared a flat in Paris with Dorothy’s brother Lyman in 1923-24. He had fought as an American soldier in the war, then worked for J.P. Morgan in Paris and later in the USA.
I have no information about Robert Bradford.
Rene Hansard, born Henrietta Irene Louise Juta (1884-1940) was a writer in her own right, and the sister of Dorothy’s artist friend Jan Juta. She and her husband Luke Hansard (who she divorced in 1925) had one daughter, Gillian Elizabeth Hansard, later Nottingham (1916-1996).
I don’t know why I had such a strong feeling that I should get back, but I had. I was disappointed when Billy and John didn’t meet me, but I got back all right, and they were there at home. Ellen seemed very tired and I wrote to Zora that she was worn out and I wouldn’t be able to get away again for a long time.
I think it was the next day that Ellen became really odd. I went to the kitchen and she was dancing about; she had on a vest, pink stays, and blue knickers, and one stocking; she was waving the other one about. She was also singing. I said: “Ellen, what is the matter?” and she answered brightly; “I think I must be going off my beanio!”
I went to my room and rang up Dr. Gossip and he told me to get the police, which I did. Two nice young policemen came; she had already packed a suitcase and said she knew where to go. Of course afterwards we found that she had had many breakdowns in the past, and knew St. Mary Abbots Hospital very well. Anyway she went off there on her own, having told the policemen that she had nothing to complain of with us and that we had been very nice to her. I went to see her next day and she was in bed, having been given some sort of drug, I imagine; she was quite calm. Mrs. Goodenough told me that Ellen had been singing a lot, her voice going higher and higher, and Mrs. Goodenough felt quite nervous being with her but didn’t like to stay away while I was in Paris. Billy also didn’t feel too happy about her and that was why he didn’t bring John to meet me, he didn’t like leaving Ellen alone in the flat. It was a good thing that I came back when I did. [This is the second encounter with mental illness in a short time, after Uncle Bobby’s newspaper-tearing episode in Paris.]
Then we got a nice maid, Margaret something, Irish, in a very few days. She was a bit mysterious about why she had left her last place, but it turned out that her mistress, who was Belgian, had accused her of using too much butter; Margaret said she had had to make a lot of extra cakes, and she felt it wasn’t fair and she flared up. I spoke on the telephone to the husband, who was very nice and said he liked Margaret very much and made it plain he considered it was all his wife’s fault. [Those Belgians, eh???]
Fred Whyte took me to tea with Sir Philip and Lady Gibbs; Billy was going too but John had strained a muscle in his leg and was being kept in bed and Billy insisted on our going while he stayed with John.
Sir Philip Gibbs (1877-1962) was a noted journalist and author. His wife was the former Agnes Mary Rowland (1874-1939).
Caroline came to stay with us early in November. On the 21st she was going on to stay with friends in the country. We were all out for luncheon at different places, and she was to come back and collect her luggage and go off by train that evening. I had gone to a cocktail party at Bunnie’s; Billy was somewhere else. When I got there I heard that Caroline had been knocked down by a car and that John had been sent home from school with suspected measles! Bunnie said there was nothing I could do, and I might as well stay and enjoy the party, and told Colin to get me a stiff drink, which he did. But of course I couldn’t stay. Mme. Gautier-Vignal was just leaving so I went in her taxi, dropped her, and came on home. Billy had come in and was very much upset, as he’d seen Caroline in the Hospital and thought she looked dreadfully bad. John was quite all right; they said he had had a rash but it had quite disappeared.
The accident cannot have been as last as 21 November; see below for my reasoning.
Madame Gautier-Vignal was probably Edith Emma née Schiff (1871–1953), the second wife of Count Albert Gautier Vignal (1854-1939). The Count had two sons by his first marriage, but one was killed in the war and the other doesn’t appear to have married. But it’s a bit surprising that Madame Gautier-Vignal didn’t insist on the title of Countess.
Caroline had been crossing the Old Brompton Road; it was raining, and she had her umbrella up. An old gentleman on the steps of the Bolton Hotel said he had seen her go out between two parked cars so that she walked straight into a Rolls Royce which belonged to one of the Siamese princes (we heard later).
Everyone told us that Caroline would get enormous damages from the insurance. Moira, Caroline’s daughter, was engaged to Wakefield Christie-Miller and he recommended a lawyer whom Billy saw. But the only witness that they could find was this same old gentleman, who s said he was very sorry indeed for the lady, and wished he could help her, but that if he were put on oath he could only say that the accident was entirely her own fault. The chauffeur who was driving the car called every day at the hospital and was most upset; he had never had an accident before, he said. So they only paid her hospital expenses, gave her a new wrist watch and umbrella, as both hers had been broken, and I think that was all. Of course other members of the family were still sure that we could have got a lot more, but we could only go by what the lawyers advised.
Margaret was alone in the flat when they rang up from John’s school to say that someone should come and take him home, and then at once the police rang about Caroline. Poor Margaret didn’t know what to do when Kitty West happened to call. She sent Margaret off to fetch John, then rang Bunnie – that was how they knew when I got there and then settled down and rang up all the MacDermots in my own telephone book. She got Elaine who knew where Moira was and took her straight off to the hospital. We went, Billy and I, as soon as I got back, and she was already much better, and spoke to me. When she was well enough to leave the hospital she went to stay with Gladys MacDermot and I often went to see her there.
Elaine is almost certainly Elaine Eliot nee Orr (1896-1974), wife of Charlie MacDermot’s youngest half-brother Frank (1896-1975). Frank was by far the most visible political figure in Billy’s extended family, and at this time was a TD (member of the Irish Parliament) and a founder of the Fine Gael political party (so it’s a bit surprising that his wife was still living in London). He was Elaine’s third husband; they fell in love on a transatlantic boat crossing, while she was still married to her second husband, the poet E.E. Cummings (1894-1962). I vivdly remeber their son, the art dealer Brian Hugh MacDermot (1930-2013).
Caroline would have been only 64, and lived another three decades, but the accident was clearly a big shock.
Caroline’s granddaughter Maralyn (1938-2022), who was my second oldest second cousin on the Whyte side, starts her autobiography with this incident as well.
On her way to my parents’ London wedding in 1935, my grandmother was crossing the street when she was knocked down by a Rolls-Royce in which the king of Siam was riding. Unfortunately, she missed the celebration, but she recovered completely and lived to be ninety-nine. I came along a few years later. Twenty-five years on, her son and my uncle, Dermot, became British Ambassador to Thailand, the former Kingdom of Siam.
Maralyn did not always let the details get in the way of a good story. Dorothy tells us below that Caroline did make it to the wedding, which was not on the day of the accident, and more trivially Caroline only lived to 98, though we should not complain. Also, strictly Dermot only became ambassador to Thailand in 1961 – though the accident was in November 1935, so “twenty-five years on” is not unreasonable shorthand.
And while I am at it, the then King of Siam, ten-year-old Ananda Mahidol, was at boarding school in Switzerland in late 1935, so he is unlikely to have been in a car in London in November during term time. Dorothy says only that the car “belonged to one of the Siamese princes” – there weren’t actually all that many Thai princes in 1935, and the best fit is Ananda’s predecessor and uncle, former king Prajadhipok, who had abdicated earlier that year and lived in exile in Surrey.
Ananda Mahidol’s reign was brief; in June 1946, aged 20, he died of a mysterious gunshot wound, and was succeeded by his teenage brother Bhumibol, who ruled Thailand until 2016, a longer reign than any other recorded monarch in history apart from Louis XIV and Elizabeth II.
I have no letters between the end of November and the end of December, so Zora may have been in London. I imagine we had a nice Christmas, and I know John went to some parties and had one of his own. I mention that he had several attacks of tonsilitis but Dr. Gossip was against his having his tonsils out.
Sometime while Caroline was staying with Gladys MacDermot her elder daughter, Moira, was married at St.James Spanish Place to Wakefield Christie-Miller, who was always called Christie. I must have written to Zora about it but I can’t find the letter. I remember that I sat behind Caroline and she asked me to keep my hand on her back as she said it gave her confidence; she wasn’t yet completely over her accident. I can’t remember much else about the wedding, or where the reception was held.
The wedding was on 12 December 1935, though the records I have suggest that it was at the Church of Our Lady of Assumption and St. Gregory, Warwick Street, close to Piccadilly in London, rather than at St James’, Spanish Place, in Marylebone as Dorothy reports. I too have no information about the reception.
However, the marriage did not last. As noted above, Moira MacDermot (1910-1969) had a daughter, Maralyn, but no other children, and eventually divorced Wakefield Christie-Miller (1909-1988). She then married Robert John Niven (1911–1976) in 1951. Maralyn, who I met a couple of times, married twice but had no children.
Next: 1936