Everybody seems very depressed here, and very troubled about the future. […]
My father is thinking of shutting up Glamis, which would be very sad, but I fear that the new super tax makes it almost inevitable.
I really feel rather worried about everything Mama. The world is in such a bad way, & we seem to be going from bad to worse here too. Everybody is hard hit by the new taxation, & everybody is feeling very unhappy!
To change to lighter subjects. We did so enjoy our time at Balmoral, and we both felt much better after our visit. The air is so bracing, & one got away from the usual melancholy conversation of ‘how can one economize’!
With much love darling Mama, & I will write directly we have worked out the cost of Royal Lodge,
Ever your loving daughter in law
Elizabeth
Undated [January 1932] to D’Arcy Osborne
Sandringham
[Written on two Post Office Telegraph forms]
This is not by any means the first letter that I have started to you during the last three months, but somehow it has been impossible to write you a letter of any kind. Somehow everything has been crumbling around one, & the written word is so hopelessly inadequate, I have so much to say!
I wish that you could be back & come & see me & talk & talk & talk. Last time somehow we didn’t talk quite enough, and there were many things that I wanted to discuss. I have so enjoyed your letters & cuttings. Please go on. America thrills me & I love hearing about it from you.
Please forgive my writing in pencil, but I am in bed with influenza for the second time since Jan 1st, and now today I am feeling better, & somehow, in bed, ordinary writing paper seems so silly, so the telegraph forms just suit.
I read Shakespeare all yesterday. Hamlet – every word, & Twelfth Night & the Rape of Lucrece & some sonnets. He does get some lovely sounds – it is like music, & the drama – & the everything! I have suddenly begun to love him. In fact, I am only just beginning to know what I like, which is a sign of great age, & it is very exciting indeed.
I wrote you a long letter at the end of July, which I found in my despatch case the other day – I must show it to you some time, because I wrote in a fever of anxiety & ignorance, & it is rather odd & unhinged to read now.
Our visit to Paris was most amusing last summer – we never went to bed until 4.30, and we managed, God knows how, to return compliment for compliment & made many French friends. I thought that the Embassy seemed in rather a bad way – too much petty feeling & plotting. When are you coming home again?
This country seems to have settled down to being poor, & everybody is quite cheerful, but only because it is inevitable to change one’s circumstances. I find a tremendous change in the last year – everything more simple, it is quite fashionable to be sentimental, you may like music – weaker cocktails, less food & a slight very slender streak of patriotism starting again. Rather shamefaced it is, but there, to be encouraged.
I spent most of Oct. Nov. & Dec. in London, and went out a lot – no parties, but little tiny dinners & cinemas & then back to somebody’s house to talk – Oh yes – I forgot to tell you that conversation is becoming the fashion. Isn’t it fun – conversation & beer & eggs instead of Embassy & champagne & twitter.
My hand is aching, & I am certain that you won’t be able to read this scribble. You are one of my few real friends, and so I must allow myself the luxury of a Lodore* of words – how pleasant to have friends. Have you made any new or delightful ones in the U.S.? I quite agree, I should love a trip there, but only with a very good press agent, and also, how awful if they loathed one. It would be ghastly to be loathed in America, my Scottish blood would congeal.
Have you heard of Noël Coward’s play Cavalcade?† It is marvellous, I think, as a Pageant & very moving.
Have you got pleasant people at the Embassy?
I do hope that your money troubles won’t become too severe – it must be horribly difficult now, & I do feel for you.
I hope you got the photograph alright.
I adored that magazine you sent – Ballyhoo – & laughed a lot, & do send any more funny things that you can.
Hoping to have a few words with you before too long.
Yours ever
Elizabeth
30 April 1932 to Mrs Beevers
145 Piccadilly
Dearest Nannie B
Thank you a thousand times for the two scarves & for the telegram on Lilibet’s birthday. She was so pleased, and so was I, and it was kind of you to think of us both. You must come & have a cup of tea & see the children. Do let me know when you are free – they come back today from Windsor, & any time would suit me – either tea time or after. Of course Margaret Rose sleeps in the morning – she is too wicked for words & most amusing.
I am longing to see you again, it is such ages since I last saw you, so do just let me know when you are free to come round.
With love,
Yours affect.
Elizabeth
14 June 1932 to the Hon. Richard Molyneux
[Telegram to Major Molyneux, Windsor Castle]
CLUB EXPECTS ITS SOLE REPRESENTATIVE TO DO HIS DUTY AND LIVE UP TO THE MOTTO. PATRONESS
5 August 1932 to King George V
145 Piccadilly
My dearest Papa
I am writing to thank you so very much for the most beautiful screen that you & Mama have given us. I cannot tell you how delighted I am to have such a really wonderful present, and it will look quite perfect at the Royal Lodge. I am so very grateful, and do thank you a thousand times for your great kindness.
I am beginning to feel pretty aged, & today I found TWO GREY HAIRS!! I suppose one must expect this at 32, or shall I pay a visit to my hairdresser, & come out a platinum blonde!
I do hope that the weather has improved for you, and I was so pleased to see that you had won some races. I felt very sad to think that I had missed some good racing, and last week I lay in bed thinking of Cowes & what I was missing. I do hope that you have enjoyed it, & that it has been a rest from the cares of these troubled times. It must be very rare for you to get away completely dearest Papa. You & Mama have always been so wonderful to me, and it has made such a difference in every way. I was very young & ignorant of the world when I married, & had no idea at all of what I would be plunged into – the pitfalls were many; but Bertie was so good, & you & Mama so kind & forgiving of my mistakes that I shall always feel very grateful to you for your understanding & affection. It means so much to me, & it has helped me tremendously. I do hope that you don’t mind me saying this – it somehow just came as I wrote.
With much love dearest Papa,
Ever your loving daughter in law Elizabeth
10 October 1932 to D’Arcy Osborne
Birkhall
My dear D’Arcy,
First of all, I must tell you that Scotland just around this house, is looking too lovely & beautiful for words of mine to describe. The birches are golden & silver, the river is an angry black & blue, every other tree is scarlet & yellow, & I feel very satisfied every time that I look out of my window. It really is delicious to be able to see so much beauty, & I find it most helpful & calming.
This little house is enchanting. It is very small, & lined with caricatures of the 90s, with extremely comfortable & ugly beds of the late Victorian era, & is badly lit with neo-Edwardian oil lamps, with an ever present smell. I am so happy here. In fact I am certain that I am a most simple creature and am most ill suited to my present calling. I inherit a hermit complex from my Lyon family side, & the older I get, the more exclusive I feel. Do you understand? I wish you could be here more, because you are one of the very few people that I can talk to. There are only about 3 people who I can be intimate with, & I never see them, so I therefore never talk about myself. I daresay that this is a very good thing.
I was so interested in your letter of August 22nd, & I thank you for it. I am deep in some volumes of a magazine of 1832 just now, & am very co
mforted to read that almost all our problems now, were just as vital then. The Tories were more Die-hard then, than even your Republican party in the USA, & the Banks needed reorganising, so did the Post Office, & Trade was dead, & in fact everything was much the same a hundred years ago, as will be a hundred years hence.
[The end of this letter is missing.]
30 November and 20 December 1932 to D’Arcy Osborne
145 Piccadilly
My dear D’Arcy,
First of all, I thank you very much for sending me your intensely interesting Memorandum to read. Please may I file it with my secret & confidential papers, because it is so thrilling to re-read, & it has given me a feeling of superiority when I meet Americans. It was kind of you to remember to send it, & I am most grateful.
Of course, you know, I have a weakness for nice Americans. I met an old man last night, a lawyer called Post, & I have made a date with him to dine with a dining club belonging to Harvard, & I am to receive from them, some candlesticks with the Bowes arms on them (when I visit the US). Weak, I suppose, but still, what fun!
I hate writing to you, because you are one of the few people that I can talk to, & as I cannot make my pen keep pace with my thoughts, I hope that you will forgive an unintelligible scribble.
I am feeling very thwarted at this moment. There is so much to be done in this country, things that I could easily do, but a combination of Press & Precedent make it impossible. And I am quite sure that it is not only useless, but almost dangerous to flout convention. Curse it!
I had a delicious two months in Scotland this autumn, & I am now feeling distinctly mellow & oh so full of conversation.
When are you returning? I did not talk to you half as much as I wanted to last summer but I was tired, & not myself, through that tiredness. Could you not return before high summer next year, when I have still a little zest left?
Trade seems to be looking up a little in this country, but the shipyards & steel works seem to be dead. I cannot think what we can do with our middle-aged unemployed. Perhaps the young men will now get employment, but I cannot see how the older men can ever work again. It is a tragedy, & unless the land can absorb some work & unless some women will give up their jobs, I fear that a lot of them will be workless all their lives.
Women can be idle quite happily – they can spend hours trying their hair in new ways, & making last year’s black coat, into this year’s jumper, & all this on 3 cups of tea and some buns. But a man must be seriously busy, & eat meat. Therefore, I think it a crime for women to take jobs that men can do as well. I am writing very wildly I am afraid, and could go on for ever with this chitchat, but will spare you. […]
This piece of paper takes, in ink, my wishes for everything of the best for you in 1933.
Yours
Elizabeth
D’Arcy Osborne replied, somewhat tongue in cheek, on 26 January, ‘I am sorry to hear that you are suffering from a frustration complex over unemployment & other national affairs. Perhaps one day you will be able to take things in hand and order the women of the country from the plough and the counting house to their proper place, the home … Anyway the winning of the vote symbolised the right to technological and other equality. And I don’t think you’d ever get women to go back to dy[e]ing their hair and their jumpers and living on tea and buns …’*
20 February 1933 to Lady Helen Graham
145 Piccadilly
Dearest Nellie,
I wrote in such a hurry last night, that I quite forgot to thank you for all the trouble you took over the famous speech, which was really the reason for my writing to you.
It was so kind & exactly what I wanted. In fact ‘the trying time is the time to try’ has become quite famous – a leader in the Daily Telegraph, & many earnest salesmen & manufacturers repeating the phrase with sobs of emotion in their very British (or rather Lancashire) throats when I went round the Fair today.
I cannot thank you enough, & if you will write me more good speeches, I will take lessons in delivery & tour the country for Toc H.†
Yours affec Elizabeth
Monday 31 July 1933 to Lady Strathmore
HMY Victoria & Albert*
My Darling Angel
Thank you so very much for your letter which I loved. Bertie & I have been here a week, & are returning to London today, & I shall hope to see you on Saturday morning.
I have been out three days racing in the ‘Britannia’, & it is the greatest fun in the world. You would love it darling, and I now feel most marvellously well! It is a most delightful way of spending a day, & the weather has been lovely too. Everybody is as old as the hills, but they all behave as if they were seventeen!
I am so looking forward to Saturday, & Lilibet is getting very excited too, and of course Margaret Rose is also excited!
Well darling, I must fly, so goodbye for the moment
from your very very loving
Elizabeth
PS I also thought May was looking so young & pretty.
1 August 1933 to Queen Mary
The Royal Lodge
The Great Park
Windsor
My Darling Mama
I was so sad at having to leave the Yacht yesterday after such a very delightful week, and I cannot tell you how much I enjoyed everything. It was all such fun, and I loved every moment of my visit.
It was so intensely interesting to see Osborne,* after having heard & read so much about it, and I was thrilled with all I saw. Thank you so very much for showing me so many interesting and amusing things on that most delightful Sunday expedition.
I was really miserable at having to leave yesterday, but I feel a different person after such an invigorating week, and am so grateful to you & Papa for all your kindness & thought for us.
We came down here today for two days’ planning for the garden next autumn, and find the whole place quite dried up & yellow from lack of rain.
It must be great fun having Mary at Cowes, and I wish so much that I had not missed her – we never seem to hit off the same party nowadays & she is one of the most elusive people to meet that can be imagined!
I saw Lord Ebbisham this morning, and the new arrangement of the School of Needlework seems quite satisfactory. The only bother is, that after 15 years the College of Technology takes over the whole building and we have to find new accommodation; but of course we have plenty of time to discuss this, and probably it will be better to have a smaller building nowadays. I was pleased to hear that the shop that I suggested & started has proved a success, & I hope that it will long continue to be one.
When I was at Cowes with you, Papa one day mentioned to me that he had heard that a certain person† had been at the Fort‡ when Bertie & I had been there, & he said that he had a very good mind to speak to David about it. I never had a chance to reopen the subject, but I do hope that he won’t do this, as I am sure that David would never forgive us for being drawn into anything like that. I do hope that you do not mind my mentioning this Mama, but relations are already a little difficult when naughty ladies are brought in, and up to now we have not met ‘the lady’ at all, & I would like to remain quite outside the whole affair. It really is very difficult sometimes, and I am sure that you & Papa can appreciate the difficulties of the position. I trust that you will forgive me for mentioning the subject, but I know that it would only make things more uncomfortable if David thought that I had been brought into it all. I would have said this to you at Cowes if I had had a chance, but there was always someone else present!
With again all my grateful and loving thanks darling Mama for all your kindness and sympathy which I appreciate more than I can ever say,
Ever your loving daughter in law
Elizabeth
24 October 1933 to Lady Strathmore
The Royal Lodge
My Darling Sweet
I have been wondering so much as to how you are feeling, and I do hope that you are really keeping quiet darling, as I am sure that is the o
nly way to get stronger. You must have had more of a shock than you realized after your fall, and with that horrid bronchitis on top, please please do be careful and rest. Don’t dream of going to Chapel for instance! And no more work parties! May would adore to do some for you I know, so do make her – it would give her such pleasure.
We came down here on Saturday, and Lilibet at once developed a bad cold. She had started Margaret’s, and had a temperature, so is now looking rather white. It so often happens that they come back so well from the country, and at once catch something!
Darling, we did so adore our last week at Glamis. It was all so heavenly, and great fun having all the family once again. If only you hadn’t been ill.
I do hope that Mikie was able to stay with you after Rosie had gone.
I have ordered my lilies. […] I do so badly want some gardening advice. When you come South duckie, I do hope you will have time to pop down & give me some. Do let me know how you are truthfully, as I long to know.
We go back to London tomorrow.
Well darling, goodbye for the moment, and do take great care from your very very loving
Elizabeth
Are you buzzing about in the Chair? Or is it too much for you?
Undated [1930–6] to the Duke of York
Hints to Bertie in case of anything happening to me.
1.Be very careful not to ridicule your children or laugh at them. When they say funny things it is usually quite innocent, and if they are silly or ‘show off’ they should be quietly stopped, & told why afterwards if people are there.
2.Always try & talk very quietly to children. Never shout or frighten them, as otherwise you lose their delightful trust in you.
3.Remember how your father, by shouting at you, & making you feel uncomfortable lost all your real affection. None of his sons are his friends, because he is not understanding & helpful to them.
12 January 1934 to the Most Rev. Cosmo Lang, Archbishop of Canterbury
Sandringham
Counting One's Blessings Page 20