with the Chisholms. Bridget looked beautiful, pale and slim again, and somehow mysterious, like Mother Earth. We went in to see the baby. It was screaming desperately, in spasms, and plucking frantically at its mouth, as if fighting to express something – and it couldn’t, it couldn’t. The effort was almost as painful to watch as a death agony. Such a bitter struggle at the beginning of life. Such a superhuman effort: one can’t believe that this little wrinkled crimson creature will survive it. But it forces its way, on and on, grimly, into time-consciousness – fighting and resting and fighting again. We stood awed and silent at the foot of the bed, unable to help – till the lady nurse bustled in, exclaiming, ‘Isn’t he cute? Isn’t he? And doesn’t he want his milk? I’ll say he does!’
Then Hugh entered, fresh and dapper from his bath. He looked so ridiculous – the absurd little rooster who had graciously donated his valuable semen for this creative act. Bridget said she’d been told that male sperm and female ovaries can now be introduced into the body of another woman, who will then be able to bear the child. Under these circumstances, the child still inherits everything from its parents, not the foster mother. We imagined a society lady introducing ‘Miss Jones – our carrier.’ And Miss Jones would refer casually to her clientele: ‘Last spring, when I was carrying for the Duchess of Devonshire . . .’
Christopher Isherwood
1978
When I got to Halston’s the phone was ringing and it was [Ilie] Nastase, and Bianca [Jagger] told him to come over. He arrived with a boyfriend, just one of his friends, and he was intimidated by the place – Halston was dressing the Disco Queen in a coat he’d made for her that day, and she came down the stairs and Halston was saying, ‘Come on Disco Queen.’ He talks like baby talk. He didn’t put any feathers in her hair this time. I told him he couldn’t, that the newspapers wouldn’t take her picture if she put one more feather in her hair.
And then Nastase’s boyfriend decided not to come to Studio 54 with us, and when we got in the limo Halston was yelling at the driver because he couldn’t find the black radio station, he said, ‘What do you mean you don’t know where the black station is – you’re black, aren’t you?’ And then the driver said he couldn’t see, meaning the radio dial, and Halston said, ‘What do you mean you can’t see, you’re driving, aren’t you?’ and then he told me that you have to yell at the help or they don’t respect you. He has over a hundred people working for him and they’re all so terrified of him, they’re always asking each other what kind of a mood he’s in.
And I notice something – Bianca had two blemishes on her face! She’s never had a blemish! I guess she’s depressed about Mick, discoing the night away. She stays out until 6:00 then gets up for her 8:00 exercise class.
Andy Warhol
6 January
1662
This evening (according to costome) his Majestie opned the Revells of that night, by throwing the Dice himselfe, in the Privy Chamber, where was a table set on purpose, and lost his 100 pounds: the yeare before he won 150 pounds: The Ladys also plaied very deepe: I came away when the Duke of Ormond had won about 1000 pounds and left them still at passage, Cards etc: at other Tables, both there and at the Groome-porters, observing the wicked folly vanity and monstrous excesse of Passion amongst some loosers, and sorry I am that such a wretched Custome as play to that excesse should be countenanc’d in a Court, which ought to be an example of Virtue to the rest of the kingdome.
John Evelyn
1836
A brig called the Agenoria arrived from St. John’s bringing 11 men, from the crew of a timber vessel, whom they had picked up in the most forlorn condition. They were capsized on the night of the 3rd [December] in a tremendous storm. Having cut the lanyards with much difficulty the vessel righted & the crew with the exception of 3 who were drowned, congregated on the quarterdeck. All their provisions were washed overboard & they continued till the 18th enduring the extremity of starvation and misery. On that day they came to the decision of drawing lots for who should die for his comrades & a young man of 19 was the victim. After prayers they cut his throat & drank the blood & devoured a considerable part of the body before it was cold. On the 20th another man being on the point of death, they cut his throat to save the blood & on the 24th another for the same reason. Having finished their horrible meal on that day a sail was discovered by the crew with tears of joy. This was the Agenoria which took them on board. They are now settled in the two Poor-Houses & where they are all likely to recover.
Barclay Fox
1915
I went to Adenkirke two days ago to establish a soup-kitchen there, as they say that Furnes station is too dangerous. We heard today that the stationmaster at Furnes has been signalling to the enemy, so that is why we have been shelled so punctually. His daughter is engaged to a German. Two of our hospital people noticed that before each bombardment a blue light appeared to flash on the sky. They reported the matter, with the result that the signals were discovered.
There has been a lot of shelling again today, and several houses are destroyed. A child of two years is in our hospital with one leg blown off and the other broken. One only hears people spoken of as, ‘the man with the abdominal trouble’, or ‘the one shot through the lungs’.
Children know the different aeroplanes by sight, and one little girl, when I ask her for news, gives me a list of the ‘obus’ (shells) that have arrived, and which have ‘s’eclate’ (burst), and which have not. One says ‘Bon soir, pas de obus (Good evening, no shells),’ as in English one says, ‘Goodnight, sleep well.’
Sarah Macnaughtan
1917
I had one of my little dinners and went straight to bed. I am in best looks. Marie Bashkirtseff is always apologetic when she makes a similar entry in her diary, but why should one be? Today I could really pass a great deal of time very happily just looking at myself in the glass. It’s extraordinary how one’s whole outline seems to alter, as well as complexion and eyes.
Lady Cynthia Asquith
1932 [Rome]
Spend most of the day reading fascisti pamphlets. They certainly have turned the whole country into an army. From cradle to grave one is cast in the mould of fascismo and there can be no escape. I am much impressed by the efficiency of all this on paper. Yet I wonder how it works in individual lives and shall not feel certain about it until I have lived some time in Italy. It is certainly a socialist experiment in that it destroys individuality. It also destroys liberty. Once a person insists on how you are to think he immediately begins to insist on how you are to behave. I admit that under this system you can attain to a degree of energy and efficiency not reached in our own island. And yet, and yet . . . The whole thing is an inverted pyramid.
We meet Signora Sarfatti, a friend of Mussolini whom we met at the Embassy yesterday. A blonde questing woman, daughter of a Venetian Jew who married a Jew in Milan. She helped Mussolini on the Popolo d’Italia, right back in 1914. She is at present his confidante and must be used by him to bring the gossip of Rome to the Villa Torlonia. She says that Mussolini is the greatest worker ever known: he rides in the morning, then a little fencing, then work, and then after dinner he plays the violin to himself. Tom [Oswald Mosley] asks how much sleep he gets. She answers, ‘Always nine hours.’ I can see Tom doing sums in his head and concluding that on such a time-table Musso cannot be hard-worked at all. Especially as
