Please forgive saga but tell what you think & tell Muv. The atmosphere at Tullamaine is awfully sad & also rather tense – I suppose G sees herself homeless. But Woman First is the motto.
Oh Ireland, the niceness of it. We passed five cars in 95 miles driving. Tell the Wife the Min. of Finance plans to fill the valleys of Kerry with asparagus! Kit got so excited when he read this & longs to get a valley in Kerry.
All love to all, Honks
1
Darling Honks
I was glad to get your saga about Woman, I’m sure Bavaria and Rudi are the answer and Woman First must be the cry of course. I’ve written to thank her for her Xmas present and said I do long to hear what she is at, plans etc, and that I heard there was a possibility of Bavaria, what a good idea etc. I do hope she leaves Ireland soon, it must be so horrid living somewhere one rather hates.
I do wonder if you have got a cook to cook the asparagus from the Kerry valleys? You have been unlucky with illness & your servants.
Stoker goes back to Eton tomorrow so I am going to London with him. His reports were so good, one started ‘I can honestly say no new boy has given me so much pleasure’. Do you think he will live up to that? The other bit of really good news is that Em has passed the maths of her school certificate, & now she never need do another sum which means a lot to her. She has (in July) the subjects she likes so I expect all will be well.
The review in The Times of Elvis’ new picture2 was rather nice didn’t you think. I can hardly wait, will jolly well go this week.
Chatsworth will soon begin properly, v. exciting. We have got to sell a lot of stuff (like Woman) to pay for the move and make a fund to keep the house going, it is fearful deciding what is best to go because generations to come are sure to say ‘my mad old grandfather (and grandmother) went and sold the – s. The one thing I really like’. So what is one to do. The very early printed books and some dreary things called the Virginia Tracts3 seem to me to be the sort of thing, with some drawings and a picture or two, thereby not getting rid of all of any one thing.
I think that’s about all for the moment, I will tell Muv the Woman Saga.
Have you had any more bad heads and how are the stays?4 Answer please.
Much love, Debo
Get on
Oh I was pleased to get your letter from abroad because I have been expecting to see Famous Authoress Dead on the placards again owing to your dread silence.
Blenheim1 – better to draw a veil. The unmitigated horror of him, the pathetic efforts of her to make a show of being alive by being sharp with people, the seriousness of the shooting & the vileness of him at it, shouting at beaters, his wife, guests, loaders & keepers equally loud. Oh it was an experience of nastth. The nicest thing was that the lavatory in my bathroom was called The Cavendish.
The conversation after three nights made me long for my Teds, I could scarce continue. One night at dinner Lord Cadogan turned to me & said, ‘Have you ever been on a railway with 2,000 rabbits on a hot day in September?’ When I admitted I hadn’t, he chucked it. The whole outing was really for [Tom] Lord & then he got ‘flu & couldn’t come, so I did feel lonely. Anyway it was very interesting & there are some v. pretty rooms (which they are just about to change) & the park, woods, etc are beyond anything for beauty but they don’t seem to notice.
It’s the W.I. party tonight, I expect it will be lovely. Em is coming as my guest. Sophia does a new thing called Voluntary Nearth, when she puts her face on one’s in a loving way & (special treat) gives it a lick. One has to do awful tricks to get her to do it like pretending to be dead. She goes very fast along the floor on two hands and one leg & drags the other leg like a wooden one.
I long for you.
Much love, 9
P.S. I have got God’s Own Cold (Duchess of Marlborough expression).
Darling Stublow
Many thanks for your letter. Of course I will get you a cot, blankets, sheets & all. I have a perfectly good cot1 that Al & Max used at Rignell. If painted would it not save a lot for you to borrow it while here? I think it may need a new mattress also a pillow. I have some perfectly good blankets which have a few moth holes; if Frau Feens2 cut them into the right size leaving out the eaten parts she could put some pretty ribbon to bind them & this would again save a lot. Then what kind of sheets, linen or cotton? If linen, I have some large double bed ones which are rather worn but here again Frau Feens could find plenty left to make cot sheets. Let me know soon as I expect to go to Dublin perhaps the week after next. On Friday 14th is the sale here of cattle, hay & implements.
In haste,
Much love, Woman
Darling Honks
We went to Eton on Sunday & we fetched Blor for tea, oh Honks she is SO old all of a sudden & her poor hands don’t work so she has cut her hair off because of not being able to do it, & her eyes look red & puffy all round, she has changed very much but she was smiling & cheerful. The old sister looks quite well thank goodness. I can’t imagine what would happen if she got ill & as she is eighty-four, it must be so hard to do all the coal & cooking & everything. I thought I would go down next week on some pretext or other & find out the name & address of the niece, to make sure someone would let us know if either of them got ill (as Blor can hardly write). I was haunted by the thought of them after we’d left. You can’t imagine what a job it was winkling Muv & Blor up the stairs at the Cockpit,1 you would have screamed if you had seen us. They left their purses about & the boys were forever going back to where we had just been to find something.
Please write.
Much love, Debo
Darling
Do you know what the English doctors did? They said old Prod had cancer of the lung & took it out. When pressed to tell what they found they were obliged to admit only an old pneumonia scar. But, they said, he is probably better without it. No Comment.
Harper’s Magazine (not Bazaar) have asked me to write 3,000 words on why I hate the Americans. Very naughty & irresponsible of them, because how can I resist? And there’ll be such trouble. I’ve already jotted down many a telling phrase.
I’ve just lunched with T Pawson1 whose head seems to have been got at by head-hunters, it could go on a watch chain or six times into that of Castillo2 who was also there.
Julliard is said to have found an English Sagan.3 Violet Trefusis I guess.
Much love, N
Darling Sooze
Not off writers, but frantically busy. About 100 Farve letters to answer1 & three jobs hanging over me.
No I don’t take in clippings & love to see any thanks very much. My publisher sends a few (Life, N. Yorker etc) & so far they are favourable & I seem to be on the best sellers list whatever that is. Glad you liked it.2
I’ve just got back from England. Three funeral services – such tear jerkers Susan with the old hymns (‘Holy Holy Holy’) & the awful words, I was in fountains each time. Then the ashes were done up in the sort of parcel he used to bring back from London, rich thick brown paper & incredibly neat knots & Woman & I & Aunt Iris took it down to Burford & it was buried at Swinbrook. Alas one’s life.
Lord Redesdale’s funeral, Swinbrook, 1958. (from left) Mabel Woolvern, the Redesdales’ parlourmaid; Jerry Lehane, the Mosleys’ chauffeur; Diana; Lady Redesdale; Oswald Mosley.
The will is almost too mad.3
I’ll write again very soon.
Much love & to Dinky, N
Darling Debo
The last days in London were terrific, not only the usual when a move from Ireland & England to France is toward but all Kit’s book1 suddenly had to be corrected and the Mews got ready for the tenant. The packing up was terrific, drawers stuffed with everything you can think of from needlework and Birdie’s SS daggers to Farve’s skating boots. The miracle was that throughout I never got a single headache.
Al [Mosley] went to peer at the Commie marches of Good Friday2 & spent five hours shouting ‘No unilateral disarmament’, & who should he see marching but Nicky [M
osley]! So they marched together chatting for a bit & then Al went back to his jeering. Oh darling doesn’t this remind one of Bobo & Decca. In the same way Nicky & Al are terribly fond of each other & both certain they are right.
All love darling, Honks
1
Darling Honks
Em has come back from the Urquharts,2 saying Mrs U does all the cooking, makes all their clothes, does all the washing, all the garden and goes to cocktail parties. All I can say is she must be very strong.
Em makes one feel very small by saying Mrs U never seems to go in to the kitchen – yet a miracle dinner appears, and she goes climbing mountains & to Edinburgh & to Loch Lomond with the children and yet there is the dinner. Oh Honks I know I never could, & Wife never could & you never could, we are too weak. Here we are five or six in kitchen (can’t quite make out which) and they really do seem to be in the kitchen & yet it is a struggle. I must get Mrs Urquhart to do it next year, with her bright smile. She can do all the washing too, and load in her spare time.
We went to lunch with the Sitwells on Monday. Dame Edith3 was in a long fur coat (which she never even unbuttoned for lunch) and a feather hat & her long white hands & huge rings. She is lovely, & gone on the same people as me, viz. Cake4 & Greta Garbo. She told us the chief things she remembered her mother saying were ‘We must remember to order enough quails for the dance’ and ‘If only I could get your Father put into a lunatic asylum’. Poor old Osbert5 doesn’t seem much worse, but it is frightening to see him walk with that fast shuffle. He has got to go away at the end of the month because – why do you think, answer at bottom of page. So there you are.
R Kee6 was marvellous as the question master, in The Brains Trust,7 his hair style makes one feel quite funny.
Much love and I do hope you have a proper good holiday. Don’t worry about anything.
Debo
He can’t get a cook, so perhaps you’ll send him one.
Dear Miss
I had to ask for a little more to eat. The meals, which are utterly delicious, fell below the danger level & yesterday’s luncheon was just nouilles [noodles] & a large jug of cream. I suppose I did it tactlessly but it’s difficult to be tactful at the top of one’s voice, & my words were very badly received. ‘Better go back to France tomorrow if you’re starving here etc’. However, corned beef was produced & for supper bacon with the eggs, although I was pointedly told that these things are reserved for workmen when they come. All is well now & she shrieks about the meals & I think sees that really they have been rather dainty.
Dialogue.
Muv ‘May Courage is dead.’
N ‘Oh I’m sorry.’ Pause. ‘What happened to the Banburys?’
Muv ‘Oh THEY died in DROVES.’
The cold is quite better, but she gets tired I see.
Pelting rain today – just as well, to fill the tank. It was getting like Hydra & PAPER no longer goes down.
Goodness the rain. I leave here tomorrow week.
Much love, N
Darling Honks
The picture1 is said by its author to be going very well but when I take a surreptitious look it seems to me to be a small blob of mud-coloured paint in the region of the forehead, & the vaguely drawn outline shows two tiny little eyes & a vast mouth. So time will show.
Yesterday I was saying how you had suggested Bérard2 for the job & he dragged an old Frog newspaper out of a case & there was a photo of a picture he had done of him. He said Bérard was always going on about you & he sees why now.
Today I am going round Boldings etc. with our sweet architect for baths & things for Chatsworth.
I am quite annoyed with Mrs Ham. I asked her to tea on Sunday & she writes to say she must have The Brains Trust (4 P.M.) and dinner.
Much love, Debo
Darling Debo
The Wonderfuls1 came yesterday & told the following. Woman insisted that her landlord must put E[lectricity] S[upply]B[oard] light in Tullamaine.2 He obeyed & a lot of workmen went to re-wire the house. She then said that she had no milk for their tea so she must have a cow for them. He sent a marvellous four gal. cow in a lorry from Cork (70 miles). Of course the men only used a pint a day so Woman bought four piglets which she is bringing up on the milk. Even they couldn’t get through it all so she sends the rest to the creamery. While she was staying with the Ws a cheque for £10 came from the creamery. Wonderful said ‘Oh yes I suppose you will send that to Mr Wood’ (or whatever his name is) whereupon Woo screamed ‘OH NO! After all MY gardener milks the cow! And but for me Mr Wood’s workmen would have had to BUY milk in the Fethard World!3
So she keeps the cheque and the pigs – and the workmen are only there because SHE insisted. I thought we should die of laughing while this story was unfolded. Isn’t she WONDAIR.
All love darling, Honks
Darling Honks
Epstein’s1 fee has made my hair a) stand on end b) go white (which it was doing anyway) but I shall go on with it as Sophy is worth a mass isn’t she & he is so old.
Lu [Freud] told me he (Ep) was turning over the pages of a 1926 Tatler the other day & after he had looked at the clothes & the adverts there was a page of Recent Portraits by Augustus John. He got very ratty and said ‘it seems John is getting an awful lot of commissions nowadays’. Admit the great sweetness of that.
I think Muv quite likes her telly. She wants me to be the person to see about selling the Island when the time comes because of living in a handy place. Of course the only thing we must see about it is that Decca will agree with what the rest of us want. Some hope. Fancy her coming to England again. I dread it.
Much love, keep writing, Debo
Darling Susan,
I’m trying to arrange things so there won’t be a fearful muddle like last time.
Would your graph be notable about 7th June, in Paris?
Susan I’ve just had the most terrifically exciting news (it wouldn’t be to you, because you are used to such things) a book I’ve been writing for literal ages has been accepted both here and in the U.S. It’s sort of memoirs of my life with Esmond.1 I can skeke [hardly] believe it. The awful thing is it isn’t finished yet, so I’ve got to plough ahead like mad to finish it before Yurrup.
Yr. loving, Susan
Darling Debo
It has been real summer (80) for a whole week. Poor Kit missed the beginning by being in London, a target for oranges in Trafalgar Sq., but is now so happy in the sun. The peonies, lupins & roses have rushed into flower.
What about Decca’s memoirs? A big advance from Gollancz is a bad sign I fear. I mean, if he gives money it must be because of ‘frank’ memoirs or whatever they are called. Kit says they can’t be worse than Nancy’s U & we are over the hump with that. I wonder. Nancy is loving the whole thing & never stops saying how marvellous it is to have Decca here & how good she expects the book will be. Kit took action & got Aunty Ni’s awful book2 withdrawn, well done him, a big loss for the publishers.
Would there be any chance of a bed at Chesterfield Street on the 27th for a few nights, would you be there? I literally die for you.
All love darling, Honks
Get on
Could I have yr reaction (here) to Decca’s take over bid for the Island?1
I can’t think of anything against it, but I am going to get Andrew’s lawyer to do the letter writing as we must make trebly sure that Muv won’t be winkled out. Do you agree? What can she want it for, isn’t it interesting.
Oh we had an exhausting weekend, Mrs Ham & Duncan Grant2 punctuated by Sir John Barbirolli & the Princess Royal.3
On arriving at St Pancras Mrs Ham announced that our porter was ‘a man of no initiative’.
Much love, 9
Saw Clarissa [Eden] last night, find her rather alarming.
Dear Duchess of Devonshire aged 9
Cruise – oh Miss Devon I couldn’t. It often means getting up at seven Miss Devon. Besides in the Spring it rains in Greece (& not only in the plains in Greece) & my wif
e Lady Pamela1 went & it said on the brochure there are only twenty rainy days in the year in Greece & she was there for 17 of them. I met her in the Ritz loo on her way back & rain was still running off her neck.
I expect the Island is for a rest for Khrushchev2 & if so McMurdo3 will have to look a bit more snappy with the mail unless ‘no letters will be forwarded’. I wonder how Khru will like living on jugs of cream?
The English pour in at this time of year & I shall be glad to leave. I go to Venice 1 July for five weeks. I’ve taken a flat where I could put you up but not anybody else. Come.
Much love, N
Darling Honks
Last week was very dread and a veil may have to be drawn as it was the camp of my regiment and I had to go & inspect them.1 Oh Honks, the horror of all those women dressed as soldiers & calling each other Major Gribble & Captain Sands. I thought I was going mad among it all. As for the taking of the salute, well, there were as many photographers as at Liberace’s libel2 so I will send you one to make you scream out loud. I thought how Birdie would have loved it and I also thought how she and I got the sack when we joined the ATS3 in 1938.
I need you for dead heading (as well as chatting).
Next week I pass to London & so does Sophy to be a little model. Diddy4 is furious about the Epstein statue in the D. Mail & says if Sophy is going to be made to look like that she is going to put her fingers in the putty.
Doesn’t the film of The Blessing5 sound truly ghoulish.6
Much love, do write to London, Debo
The Mitfords Page 30