March 7, 2015

Finest Hour 158, Spring 2013

Page 30

Compiled by Dana Cook


Oxford, 1936: Force and Clarity

Edward Heath, Prime Minister (1970-74)

Winston Churchill came to support his close friend and scientific adviser Professor Frederick Lindemann, who was standing as the Conservative candidate in a by-election for the University seat….[He] stressed the urgent need for Britain to rearm. When he added that the University required a definite and Conservative set of principles, rather than a wishy-washy set of opinions, he was applauded enthusiastically. Afterwards Lindemann took Churchill and three others, including me, back to his rooms in Christ Church for a nightcap. There we sat on the floor by the fire listening to the great man expounding his views over a series of whiskies. It was the first time I had met Churchill, and I was struck not only by the force and clarity of his arguments, but by his sheer presence. He also reinforced my determination to help articulate and later implement a new brand of Conservatism. Around two in the morning he patted the side of his chair and declared, “It is time I went off to that ducal palace.” So off he went to stay at Blenheim with his cousin, the Duke of Marlborough, leaving us to talk our way back into college long after the gates were locked, and then explain ourselves to the dean the next day.
The Course of My Life: My Autobiography (1998)

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Chartwell, 1939:  Always Rehearsing

Robin Maugham, Novelist

I [had] become private secretary to Sir Herbert Morgan who had just been appointed Director of the National Service Campaign.…National Service, I soon realized, was being stifled by the incompetence of the top office and slowed down by the red tape in the various ministries concerned with it. After a few months I wrote a memorandum on the subject. My memorandum had a success. Soon it was suggested that the full inside story of the incompetence in Whitehall should be told to a politician who could be guaranteed not to make it a party issue, and who could be relied upon to appreciate the seriousness of our poor recruiting figures. The man chosen was Mr. Winston Churchill….I arrived punctually at Chartwell at half past three, and I was shown into Churchill’s study where he sat smoking a cigar with a soda siphon on one side of him and a bottle of whisky on the other. “Have some whisky,” he suggested. “We’ll have tea later.” I gave him a copy of my memorandum, sipped my drink cautiously and told him the secret problems of the National Service Campaign. He listened intently….As I drove away from Chartwell, suddenly Mr. Churchill appeared at an upper window of the house. He seemed to be declaiming some speech. I had already said goodbye and the car had begun to drive away, so that his words may well have become inaudible—or perhaps as a result of my later head injury I have forgotten them. But in my mind I see him clearly, his hand uplifted at the window.
Escape from the Shadows (1972)

Ditchley, Oxford, 1940s:  Total Dedication

David Niven, Actor

I arrived in uniform just in time for dinner….We were twenty in number and just as we were about to sit down, Churchill spotted me from the far end of the table. I had heard before that he was an ardent movie-goer but I was unprepared for what was to come. He marched the whole length of the dining room and shook me by the hand.

“Young man,” he growled, “you did a very fine thing to give up a most promising career to fight for your country.” I was conscious that the great and the near-great in the room had remained standing and were listening with interest. I stammered some inane reply and Churchill continued with a twinkle, “Mark you, had you not done so—it would have been despicable!” He marched back to his seat.

After church on Sunday, Churchill requisitioned me for a walk round the walled garden. He talked at great length about vegetables and the joy of growing one’s own. He made it clear that before long, rationing would become so severe that “every square inch of our island will be pressed into service.” He questioned me about the problems of a junior officer in the Army and listened most attentively to my answers.
The Moon’s a Balloon: Reminiscences (1971)

Harvard, 1943: Historical Consciousness

Arthur M. Schlesinger, Sr., Historian

The great British prime minister, after a meeting with Roosevelt in Washington, had come to Cambridge to receive an honorary degree, and as a break in the day’s round of formalities he asked President Conant to arrange a half hour or so with some Harvard historians. Puffing a huge cigar and seeming utterly relaxed, he could not have been more affable; but it soon developed that his mind was less on times gone by than on the history he himself was helping to make, and in us of course he possessed avid listeners.…He added, with a sort of smile, that he personally would not be satisfied unless Hitler met death in the electric chair, since the truly great figures of history had lost their lives by hanging or the guillotine and only gangsters and criminals by electrocution. He talked with such evident unrestraint that he appeared to admit us to his innermost confidence. We, of course, should have known better.
In Retrospect: The History of an Historian (1963)

Hampshire, 1944: zest for Battle

General Maxwell Taylor, U.S. Army

We had many visitors during the final weeks of our preparations, the most notable being Prime Minister Churchill accompanied by General Eisenhower at the end of March. The Division put on a demonstration parachute jump for the visitors in the afternoon, and the Prime Minister and Eisenhower reciprocated with a dinner on board their special train for the American division commanders stationed in that part of England. Churchill was just getting up from a nap when we arrived at the train, and he appeared tired and a bit grumpy. However, drinks were soon passed, and he seized upon a large glass of cognac. Soon the color was back in his jowls and the sparkle in his eyes. He began to reminisce about the Boer War, and by the time dinner was served, he had us in the midst of World War I. He remained in superb form throughout the evening, keeping us early-rising soldiers well beyond our normal bedtime.
— Swords and Ploughshares: A Memoir (1972)

London, 1945: Holding Forth

Cecil Beaton, Photographer

Standing in the centre of the drawing-room…I watched Churchill holding, in his feminine hands with pointed nails and fingers, a glass of champagne too near his face so that the exploding bubbles tickled him and, like a baby, he screwed up his nose and eyes to display an almost toothless mouth. He wore cracked patent-leather shoes, and his stomach was high-pitched under an immaculate shirt, and his heavy gold watch chain was like my father’s. He was very much the star of the evening. He has much of the “show-off” about him and does not brook with equanimity rival attractions or interruption. Several times during dinner he growled: “Allow me to continue this discussion,” or: “Please don’t interrupt, Clemmie,” and indeed he knew his performance warranted rapt attention. I realized to what a degree all in his family circle must pay him deference. But, in all fairness, he was strictly truthful, well-balanced and impartial.
Diaries 1944-48: The Happy Years (1972)


Mr. Cook ([email protected]) has widely published collections of literary, political and show business encounters, including the first installment of this column in FH 147.

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