The Mitfords
Page 36
There was a sociologist at dinner here. She said while professionally we deplore them, your books are admitted to be a very useful sidelight on the upper classes. What can sociology be? I must look it up in the dictionary. There were 12 people, the clothes ranged from beehive to deadly.
I must get up.
Love, N
Darling Soo
Our fast young sister went over that ocean & had long loving tête à têtes with your ruler. Andrew says Kennedy is doing for sex what Eisenhower did for golf. Well no Susan I don’t feel like going.
Marie has just gone off to confess for Xmas. What ever can she have to say? As she’s a saint. Somebody asked the priest at Fontaines what Mme Costa confessed (84 & as good as gold), ‘C’est toujours la même chose, elle dit “j’ai été odieuse avec les invités.”’1 So untrue.
Much love – happy 1962, Soose
Get on
I’m feeling vaguely ghoulish at not having written much, but you know how it is. I’ll tell you about America when I see you (if you want to hear which I dreadly doubt) it was the very height of jolliness (which you won’t believe) and the utter sweetness & great pathos of the President beats all.
Yesterday was rather fascinating as I was rung for by the Prime Minister to brief him for Bermuda (which I now note is in a muddle because of old Joe)1 and I had ¾ of an hour alone with him &, for the first time in all the years I’ve known him, he vaguely listened to what I was saying. I gave him my Christmas present for the dear old President to take with him, it’s got a photograph of me surrounded by Protestant clergymen & some silver footman’s buttons he wanted, covered in crowns & snakes.2 I do hope he’ll like it. Anyway I was able to lay it on about the sweetness the goodness & the pathos.
Happy Xmas, do come to America with me when our drawings go next Oct,3 I’d do ANYTHING to see you there.
Much love, 9
Dear Miss
Never will I go there, not even with you. You know my hatred & loathing of those people isn’t at all a joke & is now exacerbated by them sending savages into Katanga.1 I don’t suppose the English papers tell what is going on there. Why don’t they do their own fighting instead of using Ethiopians & Indians? The hypocrisy makes one feel sick. There, I can’t help it.
Honks looks v. ill & has headaches the whole time. I do feel worried about her.
Fond love, N
Get on
No present from the President of the United States. It is the limit, admit. Do you think he has difficulties of Xmas shopping. Well surely someone could do it. Wife refers to him as Your Fat Friend, like Prinny.1 He’s not of course. I phoned Uncle Harold the night he got back to see how the presents went, he had seen the point in Bermuda, seen the pathos & the great sweetness & enlarged for 20 minutes on this very subject, prompted & encouraged by me of course. He was fuddled by the snakes on the buttons I sent.
It’s a pity you don’t like the Americans. You would worship the body of the President, that’s all. I told him about how people in England say it’s ½ an hour with him, including shaking hands, he was pleased & made me say it every day for a week.
Happy New Year, keep writing
Much love, 9
Dear Miss
The Fat Friend in your livery is a startling thought. Mrs Ham writes quite incoherently saying you will make history mark her words. Well if you get F.F. to be on our side you might. I would like to have the pathos & extreme sweetness enlarged on please – the worshipfulness of the BODY of course, doubtful though it must seem, one takes your word for.
Do you think Alphand1 is loathed by F.F.? Might be worth reporting if so. Of course he’s a human being & not a Peace Soldier so very likely he wouldn’t go down in that land of dire hypocrisy, where, according to Maurice,2 no birds sing, no flowers smell, no food tastes.
Muv seems to have spent Xmas in Harrods Bank, singing carols. As it’s her favourite place she must have loved it.
Much love, N
Get on
V. pleased to find a letter on my return from Yorkshire where Stoker & I had gone for a refreshing shoot with the Fevershams.
I had a letter from Al Mosley after he landed at Columbus Ohio.1 Wasn’t I honoured? Shall I recommend him as a White House aide (whatever that may mean but there seem to be lots of them) to F.F.?
I never said Alphand was loathed by old Pathos, but he does behave in a pretty odd way – viz. a dinner was given by some Washington hostess for a fellow called Adlai Stevenson2 who is someone to do with something in the land where no birds sing.
On the way into dinner the hostess whispered to the Fr Ambassador, ‘As this dinner is in honour of Adlai, I know you won’t mind if he sits on my right & you on my left.’ The said Ambassador stopped in his tracks, said to his wife ‘Dear, collect your wrap, we are buggering.’ Hostess in floods, all returned to drawing room, name places hastily changed, all returned to diner with tear – stained cheeks, sat gloomily down to eat. Well that sort of behaviour doesn’t endear you will admit. He seems to have been there for years though, so nevair moind.
F.F. IS on our side & adores Uncle Harold. He calls him Uncle Harold now, so do all the defence people.
Well French Lady, would that you were here, and now there is a go – slow with the postal I feel I shall ne’er hear again from you.
Just had a postcard from Henderson advertising Practical Burial Footwear,3 see why I love the Americans.
Much love, happy New Year, 9
Will enlarge on the pathos & sweetness in my next, if you promise to stop being rotten about them.
No, Miss. To rush hugger – mugger to one’s food, wreathed in grins & snatching coconuts from fellow guests is not civilized. Civilized people proceed according to rule. The lowest peasant of the Danube would allow a foreign ambassador his due procedure – only monkey people would be ignorant of this fundamental usage. The ambassador, who represents his own country, not his own person, is bound to object to such an insult as you have described. When a judge sends somebody to prison for contempt of court it’s not because he has an inferiority complex but because he represents justice; insults allowed become a dangerous precedent. Alphand was completely right to say ‘Dear, we bugger’.
Your letter took three days like usual. I believe they are rather nicer to abroad letters perhaps.
I’ve told Wid to sell all, like in the Bible, & go to the Ritz. Otherwise she’ll be murdered – it’s a murderous name, Hotel Adria, admit.1
I’ve had a questionnaire from an American paper called Esquire. ‘If you could have your life over again what would you like to have done?’ Answer ‘moon about on a huge unearned income’ etc. Also there’s a space for self portrait. I’ve spent a happy morning doing it. You wait.
I’m absolutely whacked as always after several weeks in a town. So I go to Fontaines on Sunday, don’t know for how long – write here.
Much love – do try & be more civilized, N
Get on
Thanks for yrs re lecture in Washington. You see that’s the whole point, the sweetness & pathos rolled into one, but I fear you’ll never see it so I suppose we’d better give it up. The President (a dear old thing) is the very embodiment of the particular worshipfulness.
Oh try & see it, oh do.
I’m on my way to London to see the oldsters, it appears Mrs Ham is being really rather naughty & slaving George1 to do all for her.
Much love, 9
Dear Miss
The oddity of the post. Your letter winged in a single day – I was beginning to wonder how you were. The only other English letter this week was from Wid – not a word about you or anything but her intense sufferings – the sinister noises & yet more sinister silence of the Hotel Adria. I replied that the noises must be rather surréalistes since we know she can’t hear anything. No mention of your motor, a high pitched scream about the agony of getting anywhere. Wicked old bad fairy. Still, of course, if all were rosy we shouldn’t love her so much.
One’s not allowed to
see the clothes for at least another fortnight. Come then. The Figaro, which is very strict, not so far enthusiastic. (They said of Oonagh’s husband1 ‘he would do better to open a flower shop’.) I’m sure one can find something at Lanvin – I must have a dinner dress. Belts again it seems everywhere, oh good.
Now dear little thing do be more careful. I think your nerves are completely upset by exhaustion – if you have to take a pill in order to sleep it proves my point. Exhaustion is what makes so many women (Honks Coo[per] for ex) take to the bottle & though that’s not probable I admit in your case, there may be other dangers. One’s body is very fragile, no doubt, but it’s the only instrument we’ve got – better look after it. Oh do listen.
Much love – tell your plans. Moroccan sunshine would be just the thing.
N
Dear Miss
I believe we’ve got a postman just for us two. Your letter saying Muv not very well was followed in three hours by one saying better.
I would put myself in an aeroplane & go & see her but there is this boring vaccination, they won’t let one back without it. I have a stupid horror (Muv’s fault) of being done & it’s the sort of thing that always upsets me – no good arriving & falling ill in London. I evidently must have it or shall be cut off from Blighty forever. A friend of mine here has been at death’s door after vaccination – oh bother I literally dread it.
Have you read Where Angels Fear to Tread (Forster). One screams at the first half – then it goes a bit slow. I mean it works to rule.
Wish I knew what Ici means in English. (Here it means here.) Whenever I open a paper I see Ici Row Looms.
Well I loom to Fontaines in an hour but only until Wed. morning.
All love, N
Get on
Can I bore you with a vague triumph I had with Duncan Sandys,1 Andrew’s petrifying boss? He stayed here not long ago & old Sophy was being rather a pest in the drawing room, so I said ‘Sophy don’t you think you ought to mince off to Diddums?’ Whereupon I heard D Sandys in a growling voice saying ‘now what on earth does that mean, mince off to Diddums?’ (As though it was rather odd.) No response of course from Sophy and about ¼ of an hour later, to my slight astonishment, I heard Sandys say ‘Sophy, don’t you think you’d better mince off to Diddums?’
ICI doesn’t mean here here. It means a thing one’s got shares in, viz. Imperial Chemical Industries. I’ll tell you a few more bits of English you must try & learn. Imps don’t mean little people in the garden but Imperial Tobacco. Gussies don’t mean a new kind of stays but Great Universal Stores. I could go on like this for pages, but won’t.
Don’t be vaccinated. I believe three of the seven deaths from smallpox in this old country are from vaccination – terrifying. Haven’t you got a doctor who would sort of pretend to do it & give you a card to say he has? That’s the way the world goes round.
It seems Muv is much better, but it’s no good thinking she’ll feel anything but awful for the next week or two. I’m going to London on Wed to see her.
Much love, 9
Dearest Henny,
Glad you liked Prac. Bur. Foot. Yes, there are some other fascinators: such as New Bra – Form, Post Mortem Form Restoration, Accomplish So Much for So Little. They cost $11 for a package of 50, Hen you must say that’s cheap, shall I send you a few? There’s also The Final Touch That Means So Much, it’s mood – setting casket hardware.
Hen do you prefer a gentle Tissue – Tint in yr. arterial? It helps regain the Natural Undertones. It’s made specially for those who prefer a fast Firming Action of medium – to – rigid degree.
Hen I bet you don’t even know what is the best time to start embalming, so I’ll tell you: Before life is quite extinct, according to the best text – book we’ve found on it. They have at you with a thing called a Trocar, it’s a long pointed needle with a pump attached, it goes in thru the stomach and all liquids etc. are pumped out. Thence to the Arterial. I do wish the book was finished, it seemed to be going along well for a bit but now it’s all being totally reorganized.
One thing you could do which would be a terrific help: write and describe an English funeral. That is, if you’ve been to any lately. Who goes to them – just the family, or what you call inties [intellectuals] too? Here, everyone goes (such as people who work in the same office etc). Anyway do try to go to one soon and write and tell all. Because I’ve never been to one in England.
Might you be in London in June? I do hope so.
Much love, Yr. Hen
Dearest Henny,
Our mournful book is coming along, but too slowly. I fear we shall have to take it up to the Isle to work on it. Luckily the publisher is being v. nice about deadlines etc.
We just got back from a longish journey; to Chicago and New York, all on the blissful train which I love. The main point of going to Chi was that there is a thing called the National Foundation of Funeral Service there, also the headquarters of the National Selected Morticians. Among the instructions contained there about how to behave (for morticians) is one on how to shake hands. It’s called Five Points in an Effective Handshake. Point 4 is ‘Place your hand in the prospect’s in such a manner that the muscle between the thumb and index finger contacts the same muscle in the prospect’s hand’. So there I was, muscle to muscle with the head of the Nat’l Selected Morticians, oh it was exciting.
Lots of love, Hen
Darling Honks
This letter is Deathly Private & not to be relayed to the Fr Lady.
Well I sat furiously eating a banana in the Oban – Salen boat, which has as you know a lunch too vile to be eaten. After the usual endless age, Salen pier hove into sight. It hove, but nothing else, no known face, no car. The poor heart sank to the very depths. You know what it is after a 30—something – hour journey.
I think she was quite pleased to see me & the pathos was of course being her birthday & sitting alone in front of a cake.
Daffodils still out here. Oh how I loathe these late & northern climes.
Did I tell you the Lismore P.O. has excelled itself. I sent a wire to the Parker – Bowles1 saying ‘Both delighted dine 6th’. It arrived saying ‘Bother. Delighted dine etc.’ So Derek has sent it back saying ‘if it’s such a nuisance perhaps you’d rather not come’.
Muv, looking at the cliffs in a watery sun last night, ‘Look Stubby, it’s like the entrance to hell or something’. Too true.
Much love, Debo
IF ONLY YOU WERE HERE.
Darling Debo:
The end of your journey! Oh Debo, a thousand times worse than even the ghoulish beginning. Of course I won’t tell Nancy that, I mean, not more than she knows already. Just to show how she understands nothing I said yesterday, ‘Really it is an awful place to get to’, & she replied ‘Yes, but don’t we all know that? Why go?’ And although even she knows the answer I said it: ‘To see somebody’. She hasn’t got much heart?
Kit went off last night & today she’s coming to stay, Geoffrey [Gilmour] for lunch, & we are going to see the jools in the Louvre which are supposed to be OK but I doubt they come up to the ones in your bank.
Jonnycan is coming for the week and business, big I hope, brings him this way. As to Ingrid & her availability, I love her really more than I can say & only hope she is as happy as she looks, & after eleven years people are apt to be available aren’t they.1 So much better than flying apart after forty years like poor Muv, just when one needs the old friend. Kit & I, like the old Dutch, have been together now for thirty years & it don’t seem a day too much (it’s really thirty but one must tell children etc twenty – eight).
All love darling COME! Honks
Darling Honks
Well, Henderson arrived, they came to dinner last night and I must say were very nice – easy & friendly, I think they have mellowed a lot. The weekend is a bit of a hurdle. However, if they go on like they did last night, all will be v. well. Id came, & the Wife & Andrew came in after & they all seemed to get on all right.
Sir Isaac Wolfson1 was very sweet the other night, he is always asking if he could sell one a washing machine on 36 easy payments.
Woman came for the day yesterday. I was good, in waiting, trying to find stuff for her drawing room. She is a take – off of a woman shopper, I never saw anyone so easily distracted. I suppose she hasn’t the faintest idea of what she wants & doesn’t really want it anyhow. We went to Liberty’s & P. Jones but in between we went to Jaeger’s for a coat & skirt & she said to the girl (to my great & lasting embarrassment) I WANT A FINE WOOL LIGHT GREY DEUX – PIÈCE, TWO PIECE in her most exaggerated slow voice. Anyway we got her a lovely one. In P Jones she wandered aimlessly about saying to everything I suggested ‘No Stublow that wouldn’t go at all well with my very beautiful Louis the 14th (?) Aubusson covered chairs’. So in the end we got some patterns of velveteen from the distracted assistant. I didn’t dare go into Spencer’s with her but I had done a day’s worth I thought.
Much love, Debo
Darling Honks
The Feray bros1 were unequalled screams, I can’t ever tell you how funny they were, such exclamations, such hand head claspings, such moans of agony when we went to the safe,2 such compliments in such insincere voices. They are somehow the very opposite of Woman in shorts at Burnham – on – Crouch.
Em laughed so much I thought she was going to choke. They asked, deathly serious, whether she had been presented at court, so we screamed & said that outing had been given up years ago. So they said in unison ‘Quelle déception, what, no lovely drress from Hartnell, no feathers, oh quelle déception’, as though it truly was an ‘horrible surprise’. ‘Les garden party avec dix milk autres, ce n’est pas la même chose’3 & they tut tutted about what a deception it was for ages & I heard them mumbling about merchants’ daughters being accepted at court as they tottered upstairs to their four posters (their name for their beds). They are a killing but exhausting pair. The weekend really went on till this (Wed) morning, & so I’m done for.