THE VICEROY’S DAUGHTER

From English journalist de Courcy, an un-thrilling biography of the daughters of Lord Curzon, whose lives seem an exercise in privilege with only a measure of excitement.

English statesman and viceroy of India, Lord Curzon was a peer of the realm with a substantial boodle. Chancellor of Cambridge and rector of Glasgow University, with a backbone as supple as reinforced concrete, he was anxious for a male heir but found himself instead with daughters Irene, Cynthia, and Alexandra. Here, he’s portrayed as a distant father, aloof and stiff, but unconstrained by the rules of marriage, and his daughters apparently also displayed his gamut of personality types. They were neither milquetoasts nor shrinking violets, fire-breathers nor buckers of the status quo, of which they were happy beneficiaries: they had fat trusts from their maternal grandfather, allowing them a latitude others couldn’t dream of. With the death of the girls’ mother, Curzon grew even more removed from his daughters, who very much took on lives of their own, and after his remarriage, he became to them “little more than a disappointing presence.” One daughter became involved in a forgettable way with the Wallis Simpson affair with Edward VIII, and another devoted her years to charity work, a choice elevating her to near-sainthood in this brood. The third, Baba—Alexandra—had a long, convoluted, and sordid relationship with the dreadful Tom Mosley, a drummer throughout Britain of support for fascism who, says Baba, had “stimulating provocative ideas” and a “sharp-edge wit.” There are unexpected glimpses of how easily influenced the policies of English government could be, but there are just as many crises over whether to wear a gray or black jacket with striped pants for dinner.

Little to keep you absorbed when second-rate palace intrigue is the only thing on the menu.