The Mitfords

by Charlotte Mosley

  Darling Debo:

  Another Womanly remark: ‘Nard, would you like two absolutely wonderful armchairs for your flat?’

  Me ‘Oh Woman you are kind, but I think really we’ve more or less got enough now.’

  Woman ‘But Nard these are super armchairs. You could never afford that quality. And they’ve got flat arms to put a drink on. They are really lovely, don’t you remember them at Tullamaine?’

  Me ‘Oh yes Woman I believe I do, lovely, you are kind.’

  Woman ‘It would be quite impossible to get such wonderful armchairs now however hard you tried.’

  Me (as before).

  This went on for several minutes. I know one day I shall wake up & find armchairs with drinks on each arm filling the flat. She ees wondair & really kind, but Debo those tweed chairs!

  Is there any hope of a visit from the little gurl?1 I die for her.

  All love darling, Honks

  Get on

  Andrew & I have got to go to Jack Kennedy’s coronation,1 we go on Wed and come back on Sunday. I wish I’d got a decent fur coat, I believe it’s bitter there. What will it be like.

  The consul in Manchester where I had to go to prove I’m not a communist spy told me to take all my pretties and that I should see some wonderful gowns & toilets, what a strange lingo.

  I’ll write from America if I have a minute, if not the minute I’m back.

  Much love, 9

  Dearest old Hen

  Alas alas we’ve got to go back to England on Sunday, we only knew we’d got to come here a few days ago & have got dreary but necessary fish to fry next week. It is a shame – twill have to be another time.

  I can’t imagine what this outing is going to be like but tomorrow looms so we shall see. Henderson, no one told me it is out of doors & it’s not exactly stuffy outside & I haven’t brought any thick knickers so if you see in the paper English Lady Frozen to Death in Main St you’ll know yr old Hen has gone to the cleaners.

  We’ve only met one American so far but I must admit we’ve only been here since 4.30 this morning.

  We’re going to a Gala with the Kennedys tonight, I think not the Frank Sinatra one which is sad & tomorrow to lunch with them after the thing. V. kind of them I do think.

  Hope you’re well Hen. Lady Redesdale is blooming.

  Do come to the Island & be a magnate.

  Tell yr plans & if you might come this year. Thanks for your telegram, it WAS nice of you. I wish I could have, it’s partly Andrew’s work which makes things difficult, there are things on all next week.

  Much love, Yr Hen

  Darling Debo:

  In our chat last night I totally forgot to say that Miss Maynard won’t be ready on Tuesday, she herself is away ill & the other lady looked askance at me & Wife & pronounced these words: ‘You can’t hurry sable’. After that I hardly dared say ‘oh do hurry’ but I did say it, half.

  A marvellous letter from Jean [de Baglion], he seems to be going to Rome, I rewarded him for his letter by a short one about the armoury. Now that the entire Kennedy bus is headed for Rome I can hardly bear it. Muv thinks you & Kennedy so like Birdie & Hitler & says, ‘Yes, & Nancy & de Gaulle’. But I had to point out that de Gaulle has never jumped seven rows of seats to get to Nancy, nor has he bestowed the 20-minute stare. One must compare like with like.

  All love darling & to little gurl, Honks

  Dereling,

  Lanvin’s collection is a disaster – as awful as the last one was pretty. I sat next old Schiap1 who said ‘I only come to this one & do it for Bettina [Bergery]’s sake’. Never saw Bettina so subdued – she simply didn’t dare say how lovely the dresses would be if they were entirely remade but from time to time when some even more horrible horror appeared she murmured desperately ‘it’s the low ceiling’. I must have a dinner dress & don’t know what to do. County suggests Gres & I think I’ll go & have a peep there. They say Dior appears to have bought all Momo’s clothes & ironed them up – anyhow I can’t sit through a Dior collection, I haven’t the enthusiasm, followed by the hurly burly of the fittings.

  The de Gaulles, faced by two evenings alone with Oncle Harold, got in a film, at Malraux’2 advice, on Polynesia. It was absolutely feelthy. De G sees nothing – Madame says nothing – the Macmillans nearly die. One of the shots was a woman suckling a pig – her pig upon her breast. L’entourage says ‘Oh well it’s what the English expect, dirty pictures’.

  Gladwyn is here, adoring H of L etc & says he wouldn’t take NATO even if they offered it.3

  Will it ever stop raining?

  Much love, N

  Darling Susan,

  We’ve moved, which took ages, still masses of things to do (curtains etc). But I love me new house. No point in telling you about it as I know you wouldn’t displace yr.self to the point of coming to see.

  Hen sent a t.gram from Washington (in response to one of mine, begging her to come here a bit) signed Your Old Hen. The operator wrote on it ‘Repeat old hen, ambiguous copy’. I noted her frozen face in a pic. In Life Mag, at least I think it was her, too fuzzy to really make out.

  Isn’t it terrific how wonderfully yr. book is selling. I see it will be out here soon. Shall I send local reviews, or do you really never bother to read them?

  Lots of love, Sooze

  Darling Soo

  This is Woman’s dear little house, in the prettiest place you could see. I’ve been to Rome with Debo, we stayed with the Colonel (Fr Ambassador there) in the most beautiful of all the palaces & had a whizzing time. Then I came back to London with her to say goodbye to Muv, off to Island & we had three family days there, very enjoyable. Muv looks much younger & better & hardly shakes at all any more, but now Aunt Weenie has begun it. Oh dear.

  My publisher’s right hand man, Richard Brain,1 has gone to the Congo on some do-gooder ploy – I told him it will be Brain for Breakfast2 poor thing. It’s a bore, because he really keeps them going, brainy Mr Brain, with a double first & so on. Such waste as he is quite too stringy for eating purposes, a real old boiler.

  If you see an interesting review of Alf I’d love it. What I can’t be bothered to note are those things like flags that appear, if you subscribe to press cuttings, from the North Niagara Times or the Deep South Daily – you know, places where nobody lives. When American reviews are good they are better than any because unlike European reviewers they actually read the book. (By good I mean well written, not favourable.)

  Yes it was yr old Hen (ambiguous) in Time. Andrew says she’s practically the 2nd lady now – the Pres. wrote himself & asked her to go back & many people think Andrew will be next ambassador.

  Love, Soo

  Dear Miss

  Poor Woo, at this very minute, is having her old dog put down. Floods. I’m so sorry for her.

  Oh did we not have a nice time! Oi mees u.

  It really is delightful here. All seems very well & I bet you Woom will marry again soon: don’t know why but I’ve got a strong feeling.

  As we drove out of the station yard she said ‘Naunceling air u toird?’ I said ‘oh well, only rather’. ‘Because if you’re very tired I shan’t give you some really lovely wine, it wouldn’t be worth it’. I let out such a bellow of rage that she nearly ran into the ditch. All was well. I got the lovely wine & I may say wondair dinnair of trout & a promise of a wonderful old boiler today & sugared ham tomorrow so I’m quite reassured about the grub.

  I’ll write again – this is just not to cut the umbilical cord.

  Fond love, N

  Dear Miss

  Forgotten your birthday again, I am a brute. Many etc. etc. I’ve subsided down here,1 oh goodness it’s pretty – the Spring, I’d never seen it before as it’s new for Mme C[osta] to come now. April showers & boiling – no heating on & all the windows open, what a wonderful year. Roses out with the apple blossom. I dread going back to be smothered in Paris, tomorrow.

  I’ve got a wonderful American share called Gamble which sounds like Lewis Carroll. I
hadn’t looked for about a month & then thought it must be a misprint it’s gone up so much. As for the Chatsworth Heating Co,2 one is obviously far too late. Next time you rebuild a house pray let me know.

  I saw the chef de cabinet of Gaillard3 who had heard all about the visit & I expect all about the great madness of English duchesses. He seemed quite giggly at the mere thought. This was at Mouchy where a real 1st April thing occurred – I thought Mouchy was a sort of Chats-Pet-Mere4 & when Diane5 said ‘come this weekend’, I thought she meant to stay. By the mercy of God my suitcase was never seen, so as soon as I twigged, which I did instantly, that I was only expected for luncheon I suborned the young man who had driven me down & it remained in the boot of his car. Because the Chats-Pet-Mere was destroyed inside by the Germans (& is anyway 19th cent. & ghastly) & they live in a house smaller than Edensor with 3 children & their pals. Oh the horror of what the embarrassment might have been! Like The Unlucky Family.6

  Aïe! Here’s your letter saying about adopters & birthdays. It rings indeed like a knell. My only excuse is that I always forget my own until a telegram arrives from Muv – who has more cause to remember it than I have (she had a ghastly delivery I believe, hours & hours). I can’t believe that you are really 10, it seems like yesterday when the church bell tolled for you being a girl.

  Harriet Hill7 was being offered a lift by a man in the middle of the night when a police car came by. The policemen hurried her into it & brought her home. Sometimes I’m thankful to have no children – the worry!

  Love from Lady Writer of French

  Darling Honks

  Well, it is too awful, I slightly got cross with Nancy yesterday when she started on about England & how she loathes London. I said I thought it was very rude considering she always stays at Ches St & we do our best to make her comfortable etc etc & as I got cross I expect I went too far, & heard my voice getting higher & higher. Oh dear I did feel ashamed after, but nevertheless I do think it is unnecessary to go on & on.

  She is being rather needly about everything, you know how she is sometimes. She wasn’t a bit in Rome. I suggest she goes & lives there. I do hope she’ll get unprickly, it’s such a waste when she can be so marvellous. THROW THIS AWAY.

  Sorry for this list of complaints.

  Much love, Debo

  Darling Debo:

  Yes maddening, & I’m v. glad you sat on it; it’s not even really genuine as she never stops rushing over.

  Our tactless frog friend Jacques Brousse1 came down on Sat. & started commiserating with me about having to be in London so much, & I said ‘there are lots of things I love being there for’, & so then he says ‘Nancy tells me it is terrible for you because not only do you have your headaches but you are completely cut off from all friends by Kit’s politics.’ I replied, ‘friends are friends even when they don’t agree about politics’, & that I also have you, Muv, two sons & three grandchildren in or about London. So he went on ‘well she has told me à plusieurs reprises2 that you see nobody’. To which I said ‘I am now fifty & an old granny & not a debutante wondering what balls she will get invited to, people can take me or leave me & one or two even take’.

  The inter-esting3 thing about this conversation is that he is not an intimate friend of ours; it seems to me that that sort of broadcast is fairly spiteful – unless she really feels so sorry for one that she can’t help saying it. As you know, there is truth in it, but as you also know the ONLY part about it I mind is the idea of Kit being misrepresented or unfairly condemned unheard as it were – the idea of me sitting sadly waiting for invitations which don’t turn up, oh Debo can you beat it. Do you think perhaps Wife would bring me out?

  Something for the Fr lady writer: boiling afternoon & we are all on lilos on the lawn. Jacques says: ‘Never does one have a fine day anywhere in the Paris region without a terrific storm & buckets of rain’. He is the pessimist of all time.

  Oh Debo DO come rain or shine.

  All love, Honks

  Darling Debo:

  Thanks for the letter you are GOOD when I know how busy you are & today is the ball.1 Woman is here & she is being more than wondair. We had a dinner party & she sat by M. de No Eye, a cousin of Charles,2 who is very fond of china, houses, etc & in a pause of talk I heard her giving him in halting French a very long receipt for cooking pork ending with ‘Il faut le couper LÀ’,3 pointing to her own body for where the CUT should take place. Isn’t she one in a million.

  As to your little gurl do send her to me, I would make her my life work, I have got four pictures of her in one frame which are before my eyes. She is the child I love best of ANY I ever knew, close second comes you at one and Decca.

  Last night Jean [de Baglion] came, also Martin Wilson,4 they were too nice & took it in turns for Woman’s sagas. During a silence I heard the words, ‘Then you smash the potatoes in some of the best olive oil’, so I think they were benefiting from her cuisine too.

  Secret. She said, ‘You know Nard I could stay with people all over Italy, they’ve begged me to come’. Me, ‘Could you Woman? How lovely’. She, ‘Oh yes, I mean they’ve all been to Tullamaine, for HUNTING TEAS’.

  All love darling, Honks

  Get on

  Dear little Lu’s likeness of me is nearly done. I think it’s marvellous. Does D. S.1 dismiss it just as severe, or does he think it’s marvellous? Please tell. I long for others to see it & hear what people think.2

  Lu was mixing up some paint the other day, got excited & said ‘look this is just the colour of your hair’. I looked, & saw a cow pat with silver in it.

  The London part of this week was strangely formal, dinner with Harold & Dot [Macmillan] one night, at Buckingham P another & Antonia Fraser3 in between, a political effort of hers, very nice but it’s lucky I’m old I couldn’t have done those 3 nights 10 years ago. I’d never seen the rooms looking over the garden at BP in daylight before. They are wonderful, so grand. I’d no idea the garden was so huge, a literal vasty park all quiet. The roar of traffic round the rim, most telling. The D of E most affable, & he told something so fascinating – how some naturalists are working in the garden and have found things like field mice & insects which don’t happen even in Hyde Park. It’s an undisturbed oasis of country.

  The Gov. Gen. of Nigeria (who the dinners were for) brought presents for the Queen & spread them out on a table & then stood behind it to hand them over & it looked exactly like a native bazaar. Most comical.

  I’ll soon be 10 if I go on like this. Also I note this letter is nothing but about me, oh how inter – esting. Sorry. Better luck next time.

  Much love, 9

  Deborah by Lucian Freud, 1961. (© The Devonshire Collection, reproduced by permission of the Chatsworth Settlement Trustees)

  Darling Debo

  Nancy came down on Sunday & we swam, she said it was BITTER. She stayed all day & yesterday I spent hours in her flat among her new & glamorous art – works. She was so nice. She talked about how she couldn’t have children & that ghoulish tale of her nurse,1 I must say it does make one’s hair stand on end. Luckily she has made a very good life for herself, & is such a success.

  While she was in Venice, Sir E. Cunard2 told her, ‘I’ve spent all day tearing up letters from you to Victor, ever since 1930’. Can you imagine. And she kept his. It was a (very spiteful I’m sure knowing him) correspondance suivie!3 Poor Naunceling, she rather mourns the letters.

  WHEN CAN WE MEET?

  All love, Honks

  Darling Honks

  This is m’diary.

  6 A.M. Called, by various bangings all over the house.

  6.30. Went down. Felt as if it was very early (which it was). Said goodbye to Muv. She really seems v. fit on the whole, & screams at the least thing.

  7 A.M. Buggered,1 in a merciful pause between thundery rainstorms.

  7.15. Hired car (John McFadyen, who said the sound was cram full of traffic, meaning two boats a day) arrived Salen about 20 to 8. Boat a tiny speck in furthest distance
. Sat on damp seat for ¾ of an hour. Had to ask a strange Gen. Herman to help me heave the luggage on the boat. Arms felt very odd, like broken things. Sat down for brekker, all excited. After 35 minutes something loomed, coffee with milk already in it. Sent it back. Soon wished I hadn’t as to pay me out the waiter didn’t bring any more for ages. Thought of Vienne, & Avignon. Longed for same.

  Very cold. Thought what madness to live in the Bonny Land, what is Lady Redesdale aiming at? That’s so far.

  Yesterday 22 people sat down to a mammoth tea. I never saw so much eaten at tea, it simply disappeared. They all said yes to everything. Sweet Mrs Campbell & sweet Betty (sort of parlourmaid, whom I loved) did wonderfully. We couldn’t think of anything to do after tea, so we didn’t do anything. They sang about two songs in a very ½ hearted way & I didn’t dare suggest any of our W.I. games like passing a match box from nose to nose because they didn’t look as if they would like it. I felt sad leaving Muv, she seems vaguely loath to let one go, oh it is sad her being old.

  We had marvellous Scrabble, when she wins she says ‘that was a very good game’ and when I win she says ‘that game didn’t seem to go very well, it was rather a dull one’.

  How I wish you had been there.

  Much love, Debo

  1

  Dear Miss

  Thank you so so much for ALL – I did have a lovely time.

  The dinner for Muv was delightful, no hogs, just Mr Niarchos2 & Kensington.3 Muv, whom I’ve seen such a lot this time, is sad about Honks. She said, so truly, Diana has had a disappointing life & what makes it worse in a way she can’t say so or talk about it. However Hayter says the boys here & at Cambridge can’t have enough of Sir O – they don’t agree with him but he fascinates them.