The Mitfords

by Charlotte Mosley

  Is there any possible chance you might come to S.F., as per my last letter? Goodness it would be marvellous. I do so long to see you. Got a v. sad letter from Mrs Ham (partly about her bad leg), it must have been a terrible thing for her too, because at that age, so few friends and contemporaries left.

  Much love, and from Bob and Benj, Yr. Hen

  Darling Soo

  When I’m alone, & specially at night & even in dreams, those days on the Island come back – but not really sadly. I believe it’s worse for you, seeing it from far off. It all seemed quite natural, something that had to happen, & when the discomfort & her own melancholy became almost unbearable she was soon unconscious & away from it all.

  More cheerful news is that you seem to have had some good advance publicity for the book & I was rung up by a French publisher who thought the book was mine & is very anxious to publish it. I said ‘have you got a pencil’ & gave him your address & fancy, he had heard of Oakland, can you beat it! This is good as one does very well with French royalties I always find – far better than in the other countries.

  Colonel has been in Washington. He says it’s exactly like Nairobi. Rather liked the President however – very clever & attractive he says.

  I’m already so tired of black clothes, so depressing in the hot weather. Never mind.

  Much love, Soo.

  P.S. Woman writes to say she has put fresh flowers on Muv’s grave. I thought of you!

  Darling Honks

  So he’s coming here tomorrow, a proper mystery trip. The Foreign Office tell us it’s for a quarter of an hour so we’ll see. He’s going to see Kick’s grave.1 Two helis arrived yesterday afternoon, I was in the meeting dept, & out tumbled ten sort of G men of super filmish variety plus a Foreign Office brigadier, bowler & stiff collar, oh my word it was comical. They spent an hour at the churchyard, looking in the ha – ha & choosing where he should land (above the church on a flat bit of park was decided on) so in one day we’ve got to build a bridge over the ha – ha & about twenty men have been set to work on the plot of graves, which of course was in a terrible state. Lots of policemen are going to be in the ha – ha & in the pathetic clump of trees which were mostly knocked down in the gale. I suppose they’ll be hiding behind gravestones & all. Fire fighting things & an ambulance with blood are going to be there too.

  The American secret service people said ‘what sort of people live in this village?’ & I said ‘well, rather quiet sort of people.’ At that moment Mr Thompson came out of his house on two sticks so I was able to show them the sort of people. They say he can’t possibly come to this house because of the public road, also the time. It will be sad if he doesn’t because you can’t see the house from the village. Andrew & I are going to the military airport in Lincolnshire to meet him & come back here in the heli with him.

  The Lees – Milnes2 will be here, & Yehudi Menuhin3 comes tomorrow night, how odd.

  What about Ld Astor & Mandy Rice Davies?4 What next.

  Much love, Debo

  Darling Soo

  Your friends came, & telephoned, but we couldn’t arrange anything because they seemed distracted, their daughter having bunked. That’s life I guess – DAUGHTERS!!

  Now I’m off to Venice (Dorsoduro 23) & then perhaps to Greece to stay with Mark [Ogilvie – Grant]. Hen comes to Venice for a week. Funny about the Pres going to his sister’s grave – funny thing none of them have ever thought about that grave before but it makes an excellent excuse. One should have sisters’ graves in every direction.

  We are all loving Profumo. I met him – sat by him at a luncheon last March & thought it very odd to have a sort of rich cad in the Govt. Do you remember Bill Astor? He was always vile. The girls are so bright & clever in the witness box it quite puts one on their side. The whole thing is pure Venice 18th century, except then Miss Keeler wld have been a nun. Much of it is strangely like the tales of Casanova. Anyway it’s girls not boys which is always something!

  Love, N

  Darling Honks

  The Loved One loomed, for at least 3 minutes. We went to meet him at the air force place in Lincs & came back here in his heeli with him, it’s really a magic carpet.

  The public visiting this house got a surprise when they saw the dear old face, so did the Lees – Milnes who had come to stay. Sophy kept telling him about her little dog who has got married.

  Much love, Debo

  Darling Debo:

  It was so lovely yet so tantalizing to have a little chat yesterday – really French telephones are awful & you faded away. I boldly wrote to Emma & felt rather like Siegfried when he woke the dragon (which grumbles ‘Who disturbs my sleep?’). Naunceling obviously thinks they’d die of boredom here.1 The truth is I so adore this place & my spirits rise when I wake up in the morning & realize I’m here, but then of course I get very busy sawing up wood etc. in other words, on the mad side. So I can’t judge. I observed to Naunceling how solemn & awe – ful it sounded to hear the vows one takes in church, & how dread to realize none of us dreams of keeping them. She said ‘H’m’ (in the way Mogens [Tvede] imitates so well) & I said ‘After all we’re all adulterers & adulteresses’ – another H’m. A few days later she said ‘I was thinking about what you said, & it’s not quite true, after all Debo’s absolutely pure.’ I said ‘Yes I know, I was thinking of our row, you & Woman & me & Lady Dorothy’.2

  Nancy, Deborah, Pamela and Diana at the wedding of Emma Cavendish to Toby Tennant, 3 September 1963.

  About Colonel (who seems to have worshipped his visit) I hope my tapped telephone won’t reveal to him that I said he is the Denning Report.3 Anyway what I was going to tell you is that a man we know, talking at a luncheon about Le Marais, said ‘C’est une maison qui a deux maïtres’4 & when I pretended not to know what he meant he said Jimmy & Col. I do wonder.

  All love darling, Honks

  Dear Miss

  Again I say I consider that I’ve had so much the lion’s share in Muv’s furniture that I wash my hands of the rest. Why not give the pretty card table to Emma? I entirely leave it to you to do as you think best.

  The two old ladies have shaken down – Mme Costa in sunny mood – Wid’s only grievance now is that she loses at Bridge. But the fact is she plays so badly that she wouldn’t win even if she had every ace & king every time. Of course I point this out: ‘Bridge is a game of skill, Mrs Ham’. Deep, furious groans. I think she feels having given Little John to God the latter ought to riposte by dealing her unbeatable cards – rather like Louis XIV who when hearing of Blenheim said ‘Oh God how could you do this to me after all I’ve done for you?’ However she’s loving Lor Ume.1 The French wireless said ‘Lor Ume n’est plus Lor Ume.’ Pretty good joke if he & Hogg1 both give up their titles to no avail! Keep writing in spite of me having no news, I beg.

  Love, N

  Darling Stublow

  You will be so terribly upset at the ghastly tragedy of Mr Kennedy’s death1 and this is just to tell you how sorry I am. The whole world has had a blow & I shall never forget the shock of when I heard it yesterday in one of the shops here. For some reason we had missed the news on Friday evening. No one here speaks of anything else as all had great respect and admiration for him. He was the only person who was honestly making for world peace & was making real progress in that direction. How awful for Mrs Kennedy. Do you know Mr Johnson, will he be any good as President?

  Much love from Woman

  Darling Debo

  Don’t be too sad. There is something frightful about a violent act of this kind, for everybody – except in a way the person who is killed. He had a wonderful life & a quick death. But of course it is horribly sad when friends die; dreadful & painful.

  All love darling, Honks

  Dearest Hen,

  I can’t describe the feeling of utter horror at what has happened. I was at home when the news came (had just got back from my long trip a few days before), and Bob telephoned from his office to say a client of his had rung up, there was a
n ‘unconfirmed rumour’ that the President had been shot at. Then I went outside and several neighbours were crying, as by that time it was known he might be dying. It was the same everywhere.

  Hen thanks so much for writing while I was on the tour, and sorry I didn’t answer but was incredibly swamped. Now of course I don’t feel like writing any jolly letter.

  So, this is just to send lots of love, Yr Hen

  Get on

  Thanks v much for yr letter. We had such a sad time in Washington. I was more or less alright in the church till all his friends came in and then all welled & it was floods all the way. You never saw such crumpled miserable faces. I never want to see such a thing again, but anyhow one never will as whoever dies whom I know can never make such an effect on so many kinds of people.

  I certainly was incredibly lucky to know him & I still can’t believe he’s dead, it’s impossible. We had such odd journeys out & back, if it hadn’t been for the great sadness of the reason for going I suppose it would have been rather fascinating, going out I had dinner with the D of Edinburgh & Mr Wilson,1 & Andrew was with the Homes, & coming back there was only the Homes & Mr Grimond2 & me & 150 empty seats behind. They all fetched up here because British Railways couldn’t get them any sleepers. Ha ha. They slept in the sheets put on for Princess Margaret & co. Ld Home said if he crept into bed very quietly & lay still no one would know they had been used.

  Haste as per.

  Much love, 9

  Such a sad letter from Henderson. I do wish she had known J.K. They would have so screamed at each other.

  Dear Miss

  I see you have forgotten that you’ve got an old sister still alive in Paris. One can hardly believe it but there it is. I’m told she lives in the rue Monsieur & can be seen tottering out on a fine day but none of her relations in England do much about her & her concierge tells me she very rarely receives a letter.

  Oh dear another worry, Honks. The Col was so serious I thought I must hand on what he said (‘let them be very careful, I might not be able to do anything another time’).1 Her poor face looked like when she has a headache. She either was, or pretended to be, utterly amazed – said Kit has never had any communication with Nasser. I then told her how Col wouldn’t come that day you were here because he said it’s really too bad of them to plot with Nasser. She says all quite, completely mad. What is one to think? Does he perhaps not tell her everything? I wish now I’d had a word with him instead because I bet she’s got a headache this morning as the result, but it’s not so easy, I never see him alone & if I took him aside she’d be sure to ask why so it wld all come to the same. I can’t help wondering if they are not a bit double faced.

  I say my furniture has come. It’s transformed all. I wonder if it’s not rather wicked to be as much attached as I am to objects, architecture, clothes & exterior things. Too old to change now.

  Darling Debo:

  We are not going to Egypt, a monster disappointment. Nancy says she hears from ‘unimpeachable source’! that Kit is suspected of being go between for German Atom scientists & Nasser & the plan is to drop a bomb on Israel, can you imagine such rubbish, but Kit says if that’s the new libel he won’t go within 1,000 miles of Egypt. He doesn’t mind but I do. I was looking forward to it so terribly much & shall never see the Abu Simbel now. Ghoul disappointment for Emmy & Jerry [Lehane] who were poised for the rush to Lismore. All the same we’ve got to go to S. Africa. I said I would originally if we could go to Egypt as well. The whole point of the journey has gone, for me, I’m sure S. Africa is ghastly. But the Lehanes must go to Ireland & anyway I’d promised Kit to go with him so there it is. I am in the depth of depression & in fact when one hears a thing of that kind (all started & invented by the English secret service it appears) it makes one realize they can invent literally anything, & be believed by some, & that one can walk into a thousand traps – I mean if Nancy hadn’t told us that, they could pretend they had heard us whispering near the pyramids heaven knows what.

  All love darling, Honks

  Dear Miss

  Well Mosleys. They have chucked Egypt. Sir O came to see me & said there’s not a word of truth in the tale, which is all round the Chanceries; he had no idea it was being said &, if he’d known, wild horses wouldn’t have taken him near Nasser. He said (very naturally) I ought to have told them when I first heard of it. I said my excuse is one doesn’t want to give Honks any more headaches – he said, ‘tell me’ – I said, ‘yes but if I say can I have a word with you in your study, Honks will want to know what it’s all about’ – he said ‘then send a line & I’ll come & see you’. So we’ve left it like that. The funny thing is between you & me I got the impression he was quite sort of pleased it was being said – on the lines I suppose of politicians always liking to be talked about. So they are going to Verwoerdt via Portugal – in about ten days.

  Well then Colonel said if Sir O says there is no truth I will stand up for him through thick & thin but they must remember I shan’t always be there (in power) & they must be very careful. He was greatly relieved that Egypt is off.

  So I die for you – come come –

  Love, N

  1

  Darling Debo:

  I asked Kit to tell about activities of the secret service in Germany against him (one assumes the story originated in Germany because, as I told you, Kit was by way of being a go-between for them – though why they should need a go-between is not clear). He says that a Major attached to the English embassy in Bonn went to German friends of ours & said everything imaginable to turn them against him. The Germans said they agreed with Kit’s European ideas, & when the Major found he had not detached them he suddenly said ‘Perhaps you don’t realize Mosley is a Jew’. This fell flat because these particular Germans are not anti-Jew; they repeated the whole thing to Kit. (The Jew story even got into the German papers & Kit had to send photographs of reference books showing his dear old squire ancestors.) It seems this Major speaks perfect German & boasts that he escaped from a POW camp in German uniform undetected. The German friends describe him as ‘a dreadful little spy’. So much for English officialdom’s spite in Germany actually known to us.

  A much worse thing happened in London which was that a man who said he was in ‘intelligence’ during the war made friends with Max & tried to persuade him to take some ammunition from the T.A.,2 purpose not specified; this man told Max that he had been in the paras, & rather impressed him for a time with boastful stories. The suggestion about ammunition opened Max’s eyes & he had no more to do with him. Imagine if Max had been stupid or gullible enough to agree. The man posed as a great friend, asked them to dinner & so on, never off the telephone. Heaven knows who he was working for. Agents provocateurs like him & fantastic stories like the one that stopped us going to Egypt should not be paid for from public funds. It is possible that the para man is not an agent (though extremely unlikely – we have got circumstantial evidence). We know the Major is, but again it is possible he did not invent the atom bomb story. On evidence of his spite, disregard for truth, and availability seems to point in his direction. Very hard to pin a rumour, or fight people who stay in the shadows-but this rumour, in order that it should be taken seriously, as it was, must surely have come from ‘official’ source. I only bore you with all this because you asked me to. Think no more of it. One thing is certain – there are some nasty people about. If only they could be induced to speak out loud! Kit did not go for Max’s person because the T.A. officers have been very good to Max & he loves his paras-in any case it wd be his word against the man’s.

  All love, Honks

  Darling Debo:

  Here we are, after a ghoul journey, I slept fourteen hours & now feel perfect again. We stopped at Las Palmas (63°F) & then Brazzaville where ’twas boiling & the white people looked like characters in Graham Greene, completely done in. Here the weather is sublime, hot & quite cool at night. As we used a new surname in the aeroplane & came to this hotel on the advice of our taxi
driver, nobody knows we are here & there have been no journalists so Kit is pleased with himself & his arrangements.

  Johannesburg is hideous & prosperous though not (I should say) luxurious. The food so far, like Stoker’s famous dictum, not good but not bad. The outskirts are a mass of bungalows nestling in roses, oleanders, hibiscus, dreadful beds of dahlias. In my room wonderful larkspurs & roses & peaches & grapes. Everything very neat. The blacks LOOK pleased with life but who knows-they never stop smiling; also one sees huge Cadillacs crammed with them-obviously some are very rich which I hadn’t realized. The white people look like W.I. & Adria Hotel and Torquay-no better & no worse. The Brazzaville ones looked wretched & everything was untidy at the airport & masses of sorts of beggars, Kit says a change since independence. The black maids who bring breakfast have got such white clothes, dazzling.

  All love darling, sorry for dullth of letter but it’s just to say we are alive. Honks

  Afrikaans is such a lovely language. No Smoking is Rook Verbode. By the way both Al & Max have given up Rook-isn’t it good.

  Darling Honks

  A Monster Thrill, to arrive back here today & find your letter from Joburg which made me scream out loud during my lone lunch. I can’t help being glad you’re having sun & oleanders even if it does entail beds of dahlias. I believe the blacks are far better housed etc in S Africa than any of the independent dumps, I suppose the others don’t admit it but it’s a fact isn’t it. What made me spit out my coffee laughing was the bit about No Smoking. Can’t wait to know more of this language.