#harold acton

[oh-hi-hello-there-dear-fellow]

Gay Victorian Network! (and they were schoolmates) | Pagebound

EVERY GAY VICTORIAN AUTHOR KNEW EACH OTHER. And this list proves it. Making an evil map (a drag path if you will) and nobody can stop meeeee

GAY VICTORIAN NETWORK! (and they were schoolmates)

EVERY GAY VICTORIAN AUTHOR KNEW EACH OTHER. And this list proves it. Making an evil map (a drag path if you will) and nobody can stop meeeeeeee.

Aka a list of books written by Queer Literary Men in Victorian and Edwardian England aka #the fruit loop aka #the homintern.

This list has all time classics (Dorian Gray, Orlando, etc) and DEEP CUTS (Bertha, Loom of Youth, etc).

Based on a map made by @alovelywaytospendanevening so creds to them!

enjoyyyyyy <<<<<<3

[corallapis]

‘Look,’ I whispered, ‘there’s Harold Acton.’

A tall plumpish young man loomed up, whom it was impossible to contemplate as an undergraduate; his umbrella was rolled cane-tight but no snugger than he was, into a long tube of a black overcoat with spilling from under it pleated trousers as wide as a skirt. As he advanced out of the swirling mist, it became clear that it was not just the weather, he was doing his own swirling. His advent was a sequence of hobble steps which seemed—his legs were of a good length—to be based on the ritual of some rompish religion; if his walk had not elegance, it would have been a waddle. He swayed to a standstill; in case his kind soft-coloured features might be mistaken for the face of youth, he had flanked them with a pair of long side-whiskers and topped them with a skittishly curled gray bowler. Bowing with the courtesy of another age and clime, he spoke, an English flawlessly italianated. 

‘I do most dreadfully beg your pardons this inclement night—though I have been resident a year, I find it too idio-tically diffi-cult to find my way about; I have been round Tom like a tee-toe-tum, too too madd-enning—where does our dear Dean hang out?’ 

He thanked me profusely, raised the bowler with a dazzling smile, and propelled himself Dean-ward, an Oriental diplomat off to leave a jeweled carte de visite. 

‘Jesus,’ said Evvers, ‘what's that?’ 

‘He's the Oxford aesthete,’ I informed him, ‘a Victorian, his rooms in Meadow are in lemon-yellow and he stands on his balcony and reads his poems through a megaphone to people passing, and he belongs to the Hypocrites Club with Brian Howard and Robert Byron and Evelyn Waugh and all that set; they call themselves the Post-War Generation and wear Hearts on their lapels as opposed to the pre-war Rupert Brooke lot who called themselves the Souls. They're supposed to eat new-born babies cooked in wine.’

—  Emlyn Williams, George: An Early Autobiography (1961)

[ripplefactor]

'His mother lived on until the age of 90, and she did not make life easy for him. She had been a beauty all her life, and behind a delicate facade a dominating personality. Harold was a devoted and admiring son, but if he wished to dine out he had to persuade his hostess to advance her dinner hour to 7.30 at the latest, because, though 60 himself, he was not given a latchkey and found it humiliating to climb into the house by a window once the servants had gone to bed.'

I would too ..happy birthday Harold Acton ..Obituary: Sir Harold Acton .. 

Villa La Pietra, in the hills outside Florence.

[royaltyandpomp]

THE ART

Harold Acton, later Sir Harold Acton (1904-1994), by Banting

[paulp-doeyenextethynge]

Paul P., Portrait of Nancy Mitford as a Reflection of her Gay Friends, ink on paper collage, 2014-2017 (detail).

[luxobnubilata]

Mona Von Bismarck ph. by Harold Acton

[weekendpartyupdate]

Villa La Pietra, Florence

[paulp-doeyenextethynge]

Paul P., Untitled, collage, 2013.  (Stephen Tennant, Harold Acton, Cecil Beaton, Brian Howard)