Word: osbert
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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England's fabulous Sitwells (Osbert, Edith and Sacheverell), now on a visit to the U.S.,* are fast becoming a contemporary legend. Brother Osbert has already distilled four bestselling books out of the way he remembers his father and the family's idiosyncrasies. Now that Miss Sitwell's recent poetry (as well as a series of critical tributes) is being published in America, U.S. readers can see for themselves why sister Edith has become one of England's most highly regarded living poets...
...impressiveness was not so much that he was very rich but that he never so much as recognized such enfeebling concepts as self-doubt and humility. He had well-founded doubts, however, of his children's self-reliance. "It is dangerous for you," he often informed Osbert, Sacheverell and Edith, "to lose touch with me for a single day." Like many Victorians, he invested his maddest behavior with an aura of impeccable sanity...
Seven sitting rooms of the Sitwell family seat, Renishaw, were used as studies by Sir George. Piled upon their floors like snowdrifts were heaps of documents concerning his incredible projects and affairs. Boxes of papers were neatly labeled, though not often correctly: thus, the box inscribed "Osbert's Debts" might well contain instead papers on "Pig-Keeping in the 13th Century," or "The Use of the Bed," or "My Advice on Poetry...
...believer in barter, he scandalized a housemaster at Eton by trying to pay for his son's education in pigs and potatoes. And when Osbert went to World War I with the Grenadier Guards, father Sitwell had, as usual, a practical suggestion to make. "Directly you hear the first shell, retire ... to the [cellar], and remain there quietly until all firing has ceased . . . Keep warm and have plenty of plain, nourishing food at frequent but regular intervals. And, of course, plenty of rest...
Nothing really affected father Sitwell's innate dignity-not even his habit of crawling on all fours around his house, a Malacca cane clenched between his teeth, in order to observe his latest building schemes from a fresh angle. But once, as Osbert remembers it, he did demean his noble station-when his butler, whose wages were overdue, politely requested an accounting. Shocked to the core by this impudence, Sir George stalked the shrinking varlet slowly across the room, finally whispered in his ear the terrible words: "Shut your ugly...