Word: deathly
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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Andre Tardieu, 63, the baldish, bankerish French statesman whose countrymen used to call him "I'Americain" for his bustle and bluntness, lay gravely ill last week at Menton after a nervous breakdown. He was the last living French signer of the Treaty of Versailles, and as Death knocked at his door, the last bitter fruits of that treaty were dropping off history's tree into the ample lap of France...
...last about to behold that unspeakable spectacle which he had dreaded: totalitarian war in which women & children, the aged and the ill, civilians as well as military, orders sacred and orders profane, would all be devastated regardless. Ambassador Joe Kennedy returned to a Britain preparing for death on a scale it believed impossible to exaggerate. Yet Britain was calm, methodical, at moments almost whimsical-completely different from last September...
...plays over the scenes and actors of the French Revolution. . . . But the Russian Bolsheviks are not redeemed in interest even by the magnitude of their crimes. . . . They have emerged from the prison cells of the Cheka to make their strange unnatural confessions to the world. They have met the death in secret to which they consigned so many better and braver...
...George Paston" (Emily Symonds, author of At John Murray's) began to edit these unpublished letters before her death. The editing was completed by Biographer Peter Quennell (Byron: The Years of Fame: The Private Letters of Princess Lieuen). Missing from the collection are any letters from Byron's half sister and mistress, Augusta Leigh, Lady Melbourne (see above) or Annabella Milbanke (Lady Byron). It adds little that the nosey world does not already know about the Byron legend, but it touches up some less known amusing episodes. Sample...
Lady Falkland, after her husband's death, imagined that Byron (he had never seen her) was in love with her. She thought the women mentioned in his poems were herself. Her sons, Lucius and Plantagenet, shared her delusion. She wrote: ''Surely I cannot be mistaken! Byron, my adored Byron, come to me ... tell me, my Byron, if those mournful tender effusions . . . to Thyrza . . . were not intended for myself...