海角大神

This year marks the 50th anniversary of the death of Evelyn Waugh, one of the greatest English writers of the 20th century and, according to quite a few contemporaries, the most disagreeable man they ever met. Waugh has already been the subject of three important full-scale biographies and countless critical studies, and has played a signal role in a number of histories and memoirs.

Now another biography appears in the shape of Philip Eade鈥檚 Evelyn Waugh: A Life Revisited. Aside from having been suggested by Evelyn Waugh鈥檚 grandson, Alexander, as an anniversary commemoration, the ostensible reason for the book鈥檚 existence is that its author has been able to draw on material not previously seen by earlier biographers, chiefly Waugh鈥檚 letters to Teresa 鈥淏aby鈥� Jungman 鈥� for whom he entertained an unrequited passion 鈥� and a brief, unpublished memoir written by his first wife, Evelyn, or 鈥淪he-Evelyn,鈥� as people liked to say.

Arthur Evelyn St John Waugh was the second son of a publisher, a man who preferred his firstborn son, Alec, over the younger Evelyn to a grotesque extent; and in time Waugh returned the favor by despising his father as a sentimental clown. His schooldays were more unhappy than otherwise, but he found joy at Oxford, where he came into one of his personas 鈥� that of the homosexual wit, high liver, wine bibber, friend to the great, and entertaining guest at grand country estates. Eade spends more time than previous biographers poring over questions of whom Waugh slept with, what he did in that regard with whom, when, and for how long. To this end, he includes a photograph of the nude person and nice bottom of Alastair Graham, Waugh鈥檚 鈥渇riend of [his] heart鈥� and one of the models for Sebastian Flyte of "Brideshead Revisited."

Waugh left Oxford with a discreditable Third and a devotion to drink (鈥淭here is nothing like the aesthetic pleasure of being drunk.... That is the greatest thing Oxford has to teach.鈥�) With no real plans for making a living, Waugh took a stab at becoming an artist but was finally forced by penury to take a position teaching at a ghastly boys鈥� school in Wales (the model for Llanabba of "Decline and Fall.") After a year at the place, his future seemed so bleak that 鈥� he claimed 鈥� he swam out to sea intending to drown himself, but, encountering jellyfish, promptly swam back to shore.

He then took up two further teaching posts, a stint of learning cabinetmaking and writing for a newspaper, Waugh published a well-received biography of Dante Gabriel Rossetti, married Evelyn Gardner, and emerged as England鈥檚 most celebrated young novelist with the publication of "Decline and Fall" 鈥� one of the funniest novels ever written. His marriage lasted only a little over a year before his wife went off with another man. It was a shaming, scarring experience Waugh never got over, and it clearly contributed to his vision of the world as a place of the damned. Indeed, the betrayal occurred as he was writing Vile Bodies, and Eade notes, as others have, that the darker hue of the novel鈥檚 second half reflects this. Its effect is even more directly evident in to "A Handful of Dust," which some consider his greatest work.

As a young person, Waugh had shown a religious streak that faded in and out of sight through the years, but, after the breakup of his marriage, it concentrated itself in his decision to become a Roman Catholic in 1930. With regard to more earthly matters, he traveled as a newspaper correspondent to Abyssinia for the coronation of Haile Selassie (and later to cover Mussolini鈥檚 invasion), to South America, to the Mediterranean, and to Norway for some unsuccessful glacier climbing, all of which eventually produced travel writing and elements of novels ("Black Mischief," "Scoop"). Meanwhile he was pursuing Baby Jungman and besieging her with billets-doux. Though these letters have not been used by previous biographers, it must be said that they do not really add anything and, judging by the snippets included here, they are pretty dull, especially by Waugh鈥檚 standards.

After securing an annulment of his first marriage, he married Laura Herbert, 13 years his junior, with whom he eventually had seven 鈥� six surviving 鈥� children. Although he had, in his obnoxious way, supported Mussolini鈥檚 invasion of Abyssinia, he gave up his Fascist sympathies with the declaration of war in 1939 and after much trouble and string-pulling managed to join a commando unit, taken on, it transpires, because he was entertainingly funny, and, according to his commanding officer, 鈥渃ould not fail to be an asset in the dreary business of war.鈥� The unit was part of the famous 鈥淟ayforce,鈥� which, among other things, was forced to evacuate from Crete in 1941.

This event has given rise to hot controversy over whether Waugh and his commanding officer, Robert Laycock, jumped the queue in escaping the island, reprehensibly leaving a good number of troops behind to be captured or killed by the Germans. Eade shines in his examination of the affair and convincingly exonerates Waugh and Laycock of dishonorable conduct. It is clear from this biography and from the others that while Waugh possessed many vices and failings聽 鈥� snobbery, spite, cruelty, ire, sloth, arrogance, gluttony, boozery, and pigheadedness, to mention only a few 鈥� he was no coward. Still, as Eade also notes, Waugh clearly felt a 鈥渟ense of moral unease鈥� over the whole thing, which unreconciled feelings found expression in his depiction of Ivor Claire鈥檚 ignoble flight in "Officers and Gentlemen."

Waugh managed to take some time off from military service to devote himself to writing "Brideshead Revisited," the novel he considered his masterpiece at the time, a view he later discarded, though it made him a pile of money, dollars especially. After the war, Waugh鈥檚 physical and mental condition began to decline badly, propelled by alcohol, bromides, and barbiturates, one result of which was the wildly funny novel, "The Ordeal of Gilbert Pinfold." Somehow, during these years of despair and disintegration, he also managed to come up with what many, myself included, consider his masterpiece, "The Sword of Honor" trilogy. Evelyn Waugh died at home after Mass on Easter Sunday, 1966.

How does this biography stack up against the previous ones? It is far less tactful than Waugh鈥檚 friend Christopher Sykes鈥檚 and necessarily less detailed than Martin Stannard鈥榮 rather plodding 1,000-plus-page, two-volume behemoth. It is not written with the pitch-perfect tone, alertness to irony, and all-around panache of Selina Hastings鈥檚 1994 "Evelyn Waugh: A Biography," but that book, like Sykes鈥檚, is out of print. So, this one will have to do. There鈥檚 nothing really wrong with it except that, with the exception of Eade鈥檚 straightening-out of the Crete affair, there is nothing new. The best parts are, as in every biography of Waugh, the quotations from the letters of the great man himself.

Thus I shall conclude with a famous passage from one of them, quoted by Eade, that perfectly conveys Waugh鈥檚 sense of the black comedy of life in this vale of tears. Waugh, now with the Royal Horse Guards in 1942, was stationed in Scotland under the command of Col. Dornford-Slater (鈥淐ol. D.S. D.S.O.鈥�) with his unit near the estate of Lord Glasgow, whose favor the colonel wished to curry by having his men blow up an old tree stump. Lord Glasgow said he鈥檇 be grateful but begged that they not 鈥渟poil the plantation of young trees near it because that is the apple of my eye.鈥� They reassured him.

"Then they all went out to see the explosion and Col. D.S. D.S.O. said you will see the tree fall flat at just that angle where it will hurt no young trees and Lord Glasgow said goodness you are clever.

So soon they lit the fuse and waited for the explosion and presently the tree, instead of falling quietly sideways, rose 50 feet in the air taking with it 陆 acre of soil and the whole of the young plantation.

And the subaltern said Sir I made a mistake, it should have been 7 陆 lbs not 75.

Lord Glasgow was so upset he walked in dead silence back to his castle and when they came to the turn in the drive in sight of his castle what should they find but that every piece of glass in the building was broken.

So Lord Glasgow gave a little cry & ran to hide his emotion in the lavatory and there when he pulled the plug the entire ceiling, loosed by the explosion, fell on his head."