Oggie1 has appeared – tremendous Lesbian reunion last night at Marie-Louise’s2 jour. When I heard them all telling Oggie how beautiful she is, it took me down a peg or two – ! But oh how pleasant that one can look forward at Oggie’s age & weight to still being told one is beautiful – only here, never in London that land of sober truth.
All love darling, NR
Darling
Thank you so much for your letter – we also are having glorious heat at last & that’s why I haven’t written, you know how one rushes out at every spare moment. Also I have had Debo’s babies for the last eleven days, oh the sweetness of them.
I took Emma to London to be a bridesmide, as she calls it, to Maggot [Ogilvy]. The wedding was yesterday & Muv wore my new hat as she hadn’t got one and she looked wonderful in it. It is a straw bonnet with black velvet ribbon.
The night I was in London I went (by myself) to La casa de Bernarda Alba,1 it is all about Muv and us. You must see it if they do it in Paris. I told Muv the story to see if it rang a bell and she said at once, ‘Oh yes, I know, those late visits, how it reminds one, etc.’ I shrieked and said of course Nancy would say it was about us, like the Barretts being about Farve.2 At the play I found myself sitting beside Oggie, so we chatted & I said ‘I hear you were the belle of Paris.’ ‘Who told you that?’ ‘Nancy.’ ‘Well’, said Oggie, ‘she really is the belle of Paris.’
Goodbye darling
All love from D
Darling,
I took the chance of Peter going back to send you one of those woolly coats for a birthday present. Of course it’s not for this weather exactly, but I think they are a comfort as one can’t be cold in them & yet they look summery!
Eat the truffles & let me know truthfully what they are like & if really good I’ll bring more.
Big dinner for Winston last night at the Embassy. Dinner very brilliant, of twenty-four, succeeded by a party of nearly all English in their thin Debenham georgettes & their Cromwell Road hair. ‘Oh Lady Diana, do you like waking up in all this red brocade? I’m afraid I shouldn’t’.
The Colonel & I dined. Diana rang him up & said ‘Viens dîner avec la légitime’.1 Which very nearly did me out of a lift there in his car. Winston sat between Mme Pol Roger,2 who is the prettiest & gayest woman in Paris, & M. Blum3 who looks an absolute love I must say.
I’ve been with Alvilde4 two or three days as the Col went down to the Gen. Although she is only twenty minutes from Paris her house is in the deepest quietest country you could possibly imagine. I wonder if I would like to have one there eventually & not in Paris – it might be better. I must say I think Paris society people are too vicious to play a real part in one’s life. I’m not a prude am I? But it’s all too much for me & too open, I find there’s something to be said for British hypocrisy after all.
How funny it is about Cecil & Greta Garbo.5
Saw Daisy6 & Ld S7 on their way to the South & they talked of o but you.
Don’t know about coming back. I’m so frightened of not getting a visa to re-enter France. Also the Col now talks of spending August here & I see so much more of him now the town is emptier, it seems waste to go away & he makes a great fuss if I suggest it.
Is it entendu [agreed] for Jonathan in the Xmas hols? I do long for that. My flat is now definite, six months from Oct.
V. Best love darling, NR
Darling
There has been a series of dreadful attacks on the Col in a paper called l’Aurore & he is quite got down by them so I said I would go & shoot the editor. He says when Mme Cailloux did so the sub editor rushed into the room & hors de lui cried, ‘Madame vous étes une – une – mal élevée!’1 Words he was never after able to live down.
The Stanleys. You know B. Russell2 wrote to me & said unless he had actually read those letters no power on earth would have made him believe that Hen[rietta], whom he remembered as an utter ogre, could ever have been so plaintive & submissive. I suppose those women were only kept under control by their sexual instincts & for as long as they were functioning. Great Granny was so exigeante in that way that Airlie had to go abroad for months every year.
Evelyn3 talks of reissuing the two books in one volume, I wish he would. When they came out there was a super slump for books & they were not a financial success. But I believe now they would ‘go’.
Much love, NR
Darling
Isn’t Aunt Weenie an old meanie and aren’t the minds of virtuous people utter sinks of abominable filth.1 The part about it that annoys me most is that Kit is one of the few people who have taken trouble to be kind to poor Boud & considering his character & how easily bored he is it was really very good of him, & now this! It shows what comes of behaving in a kind Christian disinterested manner – absolutely fatal. Although the whole story was a tiresomeness on Boud’s part I don’t blame her a quarter as much as these old horrors, because after all they are supposed to be in their right minds.
Yesterday Gerald came over with dear Harold,2 I was so pleased to see him, and Robert [Heber-Percy] & a friend. They came for lunch & stayed till 6 & we had a wonderful chat. Harold talked brilliantly and Kit took a tremendous fancy to him & said when he was gone ‘I adore Harold’. He talked a lot about you and says your elegance is unbelievable (with a glance at my cotton dress) and that you are the best dressed woman in Paris, and my dear looking so radiant. I made him tell about his whiff being shattered to atoms,3 as well as my favourite of all Harold stories when his American cousins say to him ‘Harold, how English you have become’. Isn’t he far the best company of all our contemporaries.
Muv telephoned last night & I have arranged to go there for a night next Monday. Of course she is still mourning for Tom but Aunt Weenie’s thing is great nonsense as she has cheered up very much and gets better all the time. She has not lost interest in the least but is simply very sad, but it has no bitterness in it (her sadness). At least that is what I think.
All love darling, do come soon – we all pine for
you. D
Darling
The more I see of Muv the more I feel that the one absolutely insuperable obstacle to happiness for her is Boud. Now it seems to me that as, when Muv dies, something will have to be arranged for Boud, it would be better if it could be done now so that poor Muv’s last years can be spent in peace. But what? We simply must think – if it’s a question of money surely you & I & Debo could give a pound or two a week – we shall probably have to eventually in any case. As far as I can see, on vague lines, the solution is a separate establishment in some built-up area, with an attendant & an ample supply of bed linen. What about saying all this quite brutally to Boud herself – I believe Muv gets on her nerves quite as much as she on Muv’s.
I know it’s all very well for me to talk like this when I’m off to live abroad & can’t really help & my point is though that if Muv died tomorrow it would have to be done, wouldn’t it be better to do it now so that she can have a little peace & quiet before she dies. Is it any good saying all this to Farve? Oh for Tom.
Say what you think, & I’ll talk to Muv before I leave. I think she would welcome anything & also it would set her mind at rest if she could more or less see Boud settled. I believe she half thinks Boud will be on the streets like a poor stray dog when she dies.
I do hope I shall see you once more – shall be in London 10–15 Oct unless I go to Woman.
Much love, NR
Darling
I had a dinner on my birthday, rather spoilt by old Col Mitford1 arriving an hour late – he’d been down to see the Gen & the communists had sawed half way through something which caused a back wheel to fly off which it duly did when they were doing cent à l’heure.2
The Colonel unmoved but very late & I was in a fit thinking something awful must have happened – anyhow this drive once a week, 4 ½ hours each way, is fit to kill him. I keep saying there must be lots of nice generals who live nearer Paris he could get to know.
Mrs Harrison Williams
3 is here with ginger hair. I’ve utterly now decided against dyeing – all right for blondes but my colour always goes red & that I can’t face.
I hear Debo had a miscarriage.4 Flying nearly always does it, you’d think people would know by now, but perhaps really she’s pleased.
I’ve had such a darling little coat made from yr black velvet, a sort of Victorian riding jacket – so warm & useful.
Much love darling, NR
Darling Honks
Oh goodness, have you really got a turkey for us, how utterly dreamlike, I can’t tell you how wonderful that will be only you must let us pay for it this time. I wonder what the best way of getting it would be. I think we shall be in London for a party on the night of the 19th, would it keep all that time, tell what you think.
I am weighed down with Xmas shopping, my mind is a positive blank when it comes to actually thinking of something for everyone.
Muv and Birdie are coming here I hope but Farve says he can’t because he hasn’t any clothes, what nonsense. There are forty-nine children coming to the Tree so that will be fun. Andrew says he insists on having the Tree either before Birdie comes or after she’s gone as she embarrasses him so much with the clergymen as she always asks them (a) why they became clergymen (b) if they wish they had been made a bishop and (c) if they enjoy sleeping with their wives. I must say I do see.
I am coming to London next week on Wed till Fri evening, do phone if you are there (May 4770). The Wid has been in Mount Row for the last ten days, entertaining intellectuals. The horror of it.
We went to dinner at Buckingham Palace for a ball last week, I sat next to the King, he is a terrific Hon. Andrew sat between the Queen & Princess Thicknesse,1 wasn’t he glamorous.
Oh the turkey.
Much love, Debo
Darling,
Fancy being Boud’s favourite. I fear it’s simply a matter of never seeing her! When I’m there – ‘Well I do really hate you, Nancy’.
Violet rang up & said ‘I’ve decided to leave Saint Loup1 to you in my will’. So I was suitably impressed. Later she rang up & said ‘You’re not to tell anybody’. So I said ‘Now listen Violet, for one thing it’s no good telling me secrets because I can’t keep them, & to go on with I’m not going to have my life made a burden on account of Saint Loup – I’m sure I shall die ages before you do’. I know she’s just doing a Volpone – she’s hinted to the Col she would leave it to him. Then she said ‘I’m making it a condition you should marry the Colonel’. ‘Then save yourself the trouble my dear Violet, I am married already.’ She’s a sort of second Boud in one’s life you know, & quite as dotty, & such a trouble maker. All the same I do rather love her.
Lunched with the Chabillons – the Marquis turned to me & said did I know Emily Brontë – he had just finished Les Hauts de Hurlevent.2 The Colonel was there & a hateful little writer, Jean Tharaud,3 began a sort of pro-Vichy lecture – the Col laid in to him (I’ve never heard him do this before). Afterwards the twittering little Comtesses there began saying to each other, ‘Tu savais que Palewski était communiste – moi pas’.4 Oh the dottiness!
I said to the Col, ‘Do you know it’s 4 ½ years now?’ ‘Am I not a faithful Colonel?’ he replied smugly. Well, fairly faithful.
Their head spy, Rémy, has just written an account of all the secret stuff – I’ve never read anything so fascinating. It’s called Mémoires d’un agent secret, I don’t know if it has come out at home but if it does you must read it – I hurry back to the flat to get on with it.
I’m here with Alvilde alone – deep snow has fallen at last (the first time) & it is much warmer. Snow always reminds me of Batsford.
Much love from NR
Darling,
The Last Hours of Garth1 made me utterly sob oh you must so MISS him. It seems to me really the point of children is when they are puppies & that rather consoles me for not having any – afterwards it is struggling for boots & school trunks & must be less amusing.
The Moulin.2 I wonder if I was mad not to. The Col so very much against it & indeed would I ever have set eyes on him – here he rings up when he has ½ an hour & round I go, you know. But the times when he would have two hours & a car available are so much more limited – also he refuses to see Peter so when he was at home that would make another complication. I’ve been to see about flats – you pay £1,000 a room roughly. Of course compared to that the Moulin at £5,000 with 1/3 paid on mortgage is for nothing – cottage & quite a lot of land. It’s still unsold. Oh dear.
I really can hardly say it, you must be so bored with me & my plans, but I still may come home. Will say no more on this subject!!
When they brought my Dior suit to try on they held up the skirt saying ‘Quel joli coup de taille’3 after which noises like the last moments of Heath4 were heard while they tried to do it up!! It’s come now & is a dream I must say.
Peter brought a ham from Andorra weighing 34lbs so all our friends are benefiting – all thrilled as there is no meat to be had for love or money.
As you will see, the political situation is highly complicated & goodness knows what will happen. The English journalists are furious because London papers give no space to their stories, it must be maddening for them. A man called Walewski has murdered his mistress called Linda which struck me as a curious thing. Colonel shrieking!
It is being such fun here, masses of English buddies – Momo,5 Cyril [Connolly], Peter Derwent6 & so on & heavenly weather.
Much love darling, NR
I reopen to say Hervé Alphand7 just back from Moscow describes a dinner at which Stalin sat glowering & only spoke one word – at the end he lifted his glass & said Truman. I love him for that!
Get on
Thank you so much for your letter which I shrieked at.
I am quite alright and long to get up as I can see I am missing the only bit of sun of all the summer.
Having babies successfully seems to be the most difficult thing in the world,1 I can’t think how some people manage to pull it off every time. This time it was pure bad luck as it was quite alright when it was born, although it was six weeks too soon, & when it was eight hours old it suddenly had a haemorrhage in its brain and died at once. The doctor said if they ever do recover from that they are always either cripples or dotty, so it was really a mercy.
The village nurse came for the birth and was too heavenly for anything and called me Your Ladyship all the way through the most undignified parts.
Muv is coming tomorrow which will be bliss.
Andrew has been too wonderful. We are going either to Italy or the South of France or somewhere hot for the first two weeks of July, so what about Paris on the way?
Please write and do come up here any time. I have got about another two weeks in bed & then I suppose a week of pottering & then we may go to Eastbourne so I do hope to see you somehow or other.
Much love, Debo
Darling,
I’m still shrieking over a letter from Muv which ends ‘I gaze out over wild flowers & white goats, how disgusting of one to be hermaphrodite, love from Muv’. Of course for ages I thought one meant ONE. Really Muv’s goats! Also a letter from Farve saying the prices he got for everything have been terrible.1 Oh that one could say told you so & serve you right. Were they so bad? I fear the books will be no better, the bottom has dropped out of that market weeks ago.
I went last night to Prod’s Sudan film given at the Embassy & whom should I see but Sex Hay, looking quite wild with flowers in her hair like Ophelia (a very fat myopic Ophelia, some clever producer’s new idea). She works here!
Have you ever been over Chantilly? I spent Sunday doing an American tour with the Sergeant.2 Oh the treasures are beyond belief. Then we went to the house of some vulgar Americans at Senlis – they were all, eight of them, playing Bridge indoors & evidently had been for hours, & when they finally emerged there were Duff & fat chuckling Bob.3 So it was rather fun. Then Diana came over in trousers (flannel, boiling day) with Balmain t
he dressmaker & John Julius.4
I was very depressed by Debo’s appearance – she was in low spirits evidently not a bit well – not even looking pretty but yellow & her eyes quite small. Then she had bought in Cannes a really terrible black taffeta dress which she wore the whole time – so stuffy & hot looking. Oh dear, & there are such pretty cottons to be had! I took them to dine with the Col & would you believe it Andrew (supposed to be so much interested in politics, hurrying home for a rally) never asked one single question. Doesn’t it seem strange when there we were, just the four, & the best informed man in France, probably, waiting to be agreeable. I was really astounded.
Andrew seemed sulky & out of spirits but I think was worried about her. He spent the whole afternoon, while she rested, in the Travellers Club of which Pete had made him a member, watching strangers play Bridge.
Well, the world is certainly composed of oddities!
All love, NR
P.S. Re reading this sounds catty about D & A which I do not intend – it was heaven seeing them & they were really sweet & so appreciative.
Just lunched with dear Hog.5 I’m really so fond of him, he looks too desperately ill & seems rather poor!
The Mitfords Page 23