Letters Relating to the Breakdown of the Marriage of Olive and Tony Joynson–Wreford (1928)

Introduction

The following letters, preserved in the National Archives (J 77/2594/652), relate to the breakdown of the marriage between Olive Vivian Trainor and Captain Wilfred Heyman Joynson–Wreford in 1928.

They provide a rare and direct insight into the circumstances of the separation, revealing both the tone and substance of the relationship at its conclusion.


Letter A

Carter’s Hotel, Albemarle Street, London


Dear Olive,

Your wire arrived yesterday and I answered it. I presume you have left for Cannes by now. Why you should have addressed it to the hotel and not to me I rather fail to understand, though I have a very good idea.

I have thought things over very seriously since I last saw you, and I have come to the conclusion that it is hopeless for you and I to try and continue as we are now. I would have talked to you about it in Paris, but it is useless for you and I to try and argue out anything.

I have asked you before, and I ask you again now, to divorce me.

After all, you are young—in fact we both are—and I cannot see the point of continuing in a marriage which has turned out so disastrously. I do not want you to think that I am unfair—you know yourself that the position is hopeless.

The child I promise you will be looked after, and naturally I shall be responsible for you up to a certain point. That can be arranged by the lawyer. I know a man in Paris who will do everything quietly. I imagine you would prefer it that way.

There is no question of any other woman, although you invariably think so. It is merely incompatibility of temperament, or anything else you like to call it. The last fourteen months have not been pleasant, and I must work to live. I feel I should be far better alone.

I know that this letter will upset you and probably make you furious, but please read it over several times very carefully.

I am leaving here and I am still uncertain as to where I shall be, so will you write to me care of Cran. I only suggest this as I shall be moving quite a bit and can always get him on the telephone and tell him my address.

I am very sorry about everything in many ways, but it is just one of those things that will happen. As a matter of fact, you will be far happier away from me, and I will definitely give you enough to live on. More I cannot do, as you know the state of my finances at the moment.

Everything can be arranged with the lawyer in black and white. Bobbie I will arrange about. At the moment he is with the vet with eczema. I will send you some money this week.

I hope you are both well, and I am very sorry that this should have happened. At such a time as I know it is not good for you or the child. But you must admit that it was all discussed long ago, and you refused to do anything until after the birth of the child.

After all, Olive, when love has ceased to exist it is useless to continue. We have always been great friends, but as husband and wife we are impossible. That much you must admit.

As soon as I hear from you I will get the lawyer to write to you, and the whole thing can be done in Paris quietly and decently.

I wish I could have talked to you about all this instead of writing, but that, as you know, was impossible. I feel now that I want to be alone for the rest of my life. I have tried marriage twice and both have failed, so I shall not try again.

It may all be my fault—if it is, I am sorry.

Tony


Letter B

Carter’s Hotel, Albemarle Street, London
Saturday


My dear Olive,

I got your letter this morning and wired you at once. As you particularly want it, I will do as you wish, but I really do not see the point.

I want you, anyway, if you will, to stay away for a month and think things over. I do not want you to be unkind, as I know you are not well, but you must admit that married life, as far as we are concerned, is rather hopeless.

I feel I want to be entirely alone. I really have nothing at all to do with any woman. I tell you this only because I feel it far better that you know the truth.

I will send you some money on Monday—I have none today. I hate to appear unkind, so do not misinterpret my letter.

I hope you are both well.

Tony

You little realise how many worries I have at the moment.

Thank heavens I have work to keep my mind occupied.


Notes

  • National Archives reference: J 77/2594/652
  • Spelling and phrasing have been lightly standardised for readability
  • Content reflects the tone and substance of the original documents

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