The Mitfords

by Charlotte Mosley

  Is it Pryce-Jones1 who has taken your house? He’s coming to interview me. Do describe.

  There’s a marvellous book I’m plunged in about Dickens. He thought all crime was caused by unhappy childhood, just like we think it is caused by happy childhood. It is rather odd that the richer & happier people are the worse are their crimes. So we have to come back to Satan I suppose.

  I’ve just had self-cooked lunch (Hassan is on his weekly ice-floe). Scrambled eggs with a strong taste of marmalade smiling through (couldn’t be bothered to wash the plate after brekker). Oh I loathe it all so terribly.

  Madeau [Stewart] is coming to interview me for BBC. One of the questions: Some historians say your history books are really a description of the Mitford family? Answer: Very true. History is always subjective & the books we yawn over are often the descriptions of the home life of some dreary old professors.

  I believe you have organised some sort of postal strike so you may never receive this.

  Best love, Soo

  Darling Debo:

  I have got a new preoccupation, not to say worry, which is that Kit is beginning (only beginning mind you, but one sees the trend) to say we must normalize (awful word) everything now we know it’s not cancer.1 This only means that I mustn’t rush over every day. Poor old Kit, I know well he has been very very good, but of course whatever name you call it by changes nothing much, Naunce is still by any standards a very ill person-a desperately ill person-& a desperately lonely one.

  The transparent efforts of for example Colonel to find a new ‘subject’ for another book make her quite cross & yesterday the poor man got a good snubbing (also he fetched himself a garden chair & planted it on the scyllas, there were stifled screams from poor Lady & I made him move it, but it touched a daisy, & then he sort of fingered a narcissus while chatting & she was in utter agony-I mean garden agony not pain). Of course while she can sit out & watch Hassan put in radish seeds all is well, but this weather won’t last.

  All love darling, Honks

  Dear Miss

  I’ve spent two whole days with David P[ryce]-J[ones], doped to the eyes. I hope I didn’t seem too stupid but my recollection is that he did most of the talking & he did tell some fascinating facts of modern life. He remembers staying (?) at Lismore when he was 12 & being made to play intellectual games à la manière de Racine & so on. I said oh they’ve chucked all that & they dress up as horses now & have steeple chases over the Berlin china. Roughly correct? He bitterly regrets that Alan1 didn’t marry Eliz. [Cavendish] I’d forgotten that they courted. He says the Dss2 is a disaster in anybody’s life. He says his little girls aged 6 & 7 loathe & despise hippies & so do all their mates. How SWEET. I greatly enjoyed the ole thing-the interview will appear about when the book does. There was quite a friendly one in D. Exp. with me looking the image of Aunt Iris.

  I’m retaking the only pill that suits me but which stopped working – it works again oh the bliss. If ever I do get better I shall be SO happy nothing will ever matter again.

  Much love, Lady

  Get on

  Now, Lady, to be serious. I’ve heard through beastly London grape vine that D Pryce-Jones is going round saying that you said all sorts of things about Birdie & SS Men & Hitler in your interview.1 No doubt you did not, but if it is said you did that’s enough to make an intensely interesting story, so for the sake of all I implore you to get a copy of what he proposes to say at once, & if he has invented anything, & if you said something ½ joking & not meaning it to be down in black & white, you can scrub it all out.

  It would be so awful for everyone, & specially Honks, if a lot of stuff was written all wrong & all beastly about poor old Birdie who can’t answer. I’m all for saying anything in an interview about oneself if one feels like it but for someone like Pryce-Jones to get hold of the wrong end of the stick about Birdie is too much you’ll agree.

  How I loathe journalists for their utter unreliability, they always seem as if they won’t do & say anything rotten & then do exactly the opposite. Do report on this, what can it all be? Or perhaps you’ve seen what he’s going to publish already & I’ve been given an exaggerated account? Anyway I thought I’d write at once to warn you what’s being said.

  Much love, 9

  BOAST OF THE YEAR

  Dear Miss

  A French Lady Horse has been named after me NANCY MITFORD & has won her first race.

  I can’t help noting that no racehorse has been called Deborah Mitford, 9, de Horsey, Hen, Elle or Bakewell Hannah.

  It’s the old story of the Tortoise & the Hare or Cinderella. Under my air of quiet indifference the discerning French owner, the Duke of Blackears or some such name, has perceived a true heart steadily beating for the cause of equine encouragement. He has acted.

  That’s all for now. Enough?

  Love, Nancy Mitford

  (Lester Piggott keep out)

  Dear Miss

  Hope you got the Boast of the Year.

  The editor of the (I don’t quite understand, is it D[aily] T[elegraph] magazine?-a Sunday supplement or something-we don’t get it here) says there’s nothing deleterious in the article, which he thinks very good, & nothing which could possibly be regarded as a scoop. He is sending a proof. You know one mustn’t have one skin too few, as you say Jews have, on acc/of being a Mitford. I read Decca’s book &-exc for what she said about Uncle T, unpardonable-I couldn’t see much wrong with it & as everybody has read it I can’t think quoting from it could matter. What I would object to is misquotations of me. I always think you & Honks never really read the book. Probably the best thing would be not to read P-J, a course I warmly recommend to you.

  I’m in complete torment. I lie & watch the swallows & remember how I watched them last year in complete torment the same. I think physical pain is the worst infliction, though perhaps having no money would be even worse. Fancy if every day was like Sunday with Woman not about. Have you ever tried to wash up a saucepan? I wash it & then I smell & it smells of grease so I wash it again & it goes on smelling of grease. Tairebool. If I leave it for the Hassan to do the kitchen smells. One lars [alas].

  Best love, de Horsey-Mitford

  Darling Soo

  I don’t know how long I’ll stay here. I’ve got a dr in whom I feel confidence & if he seems to do me good I’ll stay as long as he says. But I’m sure to be back before you leave & it would be a great joy to see you if not too much trouble.

  Susan the Americans on the beach. Per cent Dow Jones. I can’t think why the beatniks haven’t performed ritual killings on them, no jury would convict. If I wasn’t such a cripple I would do something myself in the way of drowning. I’m sure they are very weak. I can swim much better than I can walk & the dr encourages it but the water is too cold for me.

  I screamed about the criminals & their sibling troubles, well what about us? I’m sure all they really want is a free hand to do each other in, which incidentally would solve the problem of over crowding.1

  Of course Honks has got a good line on prison & how one longs for solitary confinement. Then your m in law saying to the German Commandant ‘there are two things I always insist on in prison, one is bread & the other is water’. Duff [Cooper] always used to say Nellie [Romilly] was the funniest person he had ever known & he used to begin to giggle at the mere thought of her. But I think she had lost it by the time we knew her.

  Well Soo you won’t have time to read all this drivel so I’ll close.

  Best love, Soo

  I’m not too bad, it depends on the day, but I’ve always got a pain how I would love to be cured!

  Dereling,

  Cecil [Beaton] came back for a night. He is fearfully worried about a tiny wrinkle on his cheek. People gaze in the glass & don’t realize that the general effect is 100. I saw the old soul from my balcony-didn’t know he was coming-& wondered who the old gent was until I heard the voice. Nothing to do with the tiny wrinkle.

  You know my thing about grey hair. Lidi [Clary] was t
elling of some friend aged ninety who dyes her hair, saying men hate grey hair. With Lidi’s before my eyes I couldn’t say, but I know exactly what she means, I hate it too. (I don’t mean yours which is silver gilt.) If I wasn’t allergic to dye I would have it boot black like a French housemaid.

  The fact is I fear old people are boring as I once told Evelyn (when he said ‘your odious letter arrived on my birthday’). Until I realized the old gent was Kek I felt bored. What a horrid look out.

  I’ve often said this before but I believe I’m better. Will enlarge in my next.

  Much love, N

  I’m reading a book about the Tsars. Oh God what people. Stalin was infinitely less awful.

  Dearest Hen,

  Harrods: Last time I was there I noted on the board of departments: Funeral Arrangements, 4th floor. So I scrammed to the 4th fl, where the Funeral Arrangements door was closed. There was a note on it saying: ‘If shut, apply to Adjustments Dept.’ So there you are, she was Adjusted. Am amending me will to be shipped to Harrods & adjusted-will you come & view? One of the Toynbee children, when little, thought the name was Herrod’s like Wicked King H. I must say they’re getting more Herrodish all the time.

  I’ve finished my prisons thing, oh you’ll never know the relief: 6 months of work it was, although it’s only an article of about 6,000 words (28 pages of typing). I’m afraid it would only bore you, so shan’t send, but to me it was my entire life for ages and ages.

  Much love, Yr Hen

  Dearest Hen,

  Thanks SO much for your marvellous and detailed reports, they sustain me. The dreams: odd, she gets whiter & whiter in mine too but no spurting tooth thank God. More or less twisted visage of agony, all of a sudden, after being quite ordinary. Va. Durr1 sent me the most smashing photo (colour) from Sun. Times of Nancy in her gdn, and ones of the house.

  I wonder if you’ve found Woman? Do you remember how Muv, when we thought Woman might have been kidnapped for ransom (as she had disappeared in her car for about a week) saying ‘Mmmm. In that case, Debo would have to plunge.’2

  Do give lots of love to Woman if you find her, & report on a) Her Glos. Ghast-House if she’s having it, b) Her book.

  Much love, Yr Hen

  Darling Woman

  I feel so worried about Honks now-you’ll have heard she’s got an ulcer & that Dr Dumas has given her a pill which stops the pain & she’s on a strict diet.

  If one had stopped to think one would have guessed she’d get something like that as she’s been on the receiving end of all the worry of Nancy, & Sir O had an op. this time last year & one way & another she’s had a pretty foul time. I suppose she’ll have to rest a lot & all that now.

  Much love, Stublow

  Darling Honks

  Now Honks I enclose something very touching from Hen.1 I’ve sort of told the Lady that she’d come if pressed & I’m sure she won’t press. I couldn’t bear it if Hen made all that huge & expensive effort & then was not too welcome. Do tell what you think. Return letter some time. It shows what a heart that old Hen has got, still, under all the fury & bitterness. (Which I think she’s nigh on shed, a lot of it anyway.)

  We’ve had a summit here re the farm. The dotty-seeming answer may be to have parties to see the cows milked, school children & such like. Most of them have never seen anything of that kind & of course the first person who starts it will benefit like mad. It sounds wild doesn’t it, but I suppose it might be quite a good plan all round. One could make it rather jolly, with refreshing drinks of milk just milked etc. (No one’s tasted that sort of milk for YEARS.)2

  I must stop, & write to Hen. What a great mistake for the Lady to refuse to see people, she hasn’t told me that. How much weight has she lost? Enlarge please (in pounds).

  Did you hear Heathy3 on the wireless speaking French? It was rather like I would have sounded. Park Top has been tested in foal. Good.

  Much love, Debo

  Darling Soo

  Useless to pretend I wouldn’t adore to see you but honestly it’s not worth it. I spend half the time doped & stupid & the other half crying on my bed or really unable to chat. By 7.30 I’m done in, it’s so tiring all this pain. Let’s wait until this crisis is over. Some think it comes from the cobalt rays. In any case I’m never going to have any more treatment, everything so far has made me worse. Very luckily the last dr has lost my radio photographs, so no new one would take me on without them. I’ve seen 22 drs since it all began & that’s going to be it.

  Woman came, she was so nice. Makes me laugh with her projects. The latest is to buy a house in Scotland of all places. One listens with half an ear.

  I see Mary McCarthy has written another disobliging book1 about the French, I do wonder why she lives here. But she always says she doesn’t know any Frogs. What a funny person.

  Fondest love, Soo

  Darling Soo

  Thanks for your letter, you needn’t answer this but you might like to know that I go on having prac. no pain & it still feels heavenly because I have enough to remind me what it was like. The only drawback is great giddiness-I am talking to an old ambassador (here, I can’t go out) when hey presto there I am on all fours as if about to kiss his toe. I’m, naturally, weak, I weigh now less than 6½ stone (the putting on stopped but I’ve not lost it again) & I’m giddy, so shopping which I so long for is out of the question. I can’t begin my memoirs but I think about them. I’ve got the advantage over you of the drelders being dead.

  I shall say about Muv: I had the greatest possible respect for her; I liked her company; but I never loved her, for the evident reason that she never loved me-I was never hugged & kissed by her as a small child-indeed I saw very little of her … I don’t believe this really applies to you & Debo? Certainly Debo loved her & Diana did in old age but not when we just grew up. She was very cold & sarky with me. I don’t reproach her for it, people have a perfect right to dislike their children but it is a fact I think I must mention. If you write memoirs at all they must throw some light on the personality of the writer, if, as in my case, nothing ever happens. They only begin when I am 40 & came here but of course there will be flashbacks.

  Did you read Mary Mc’s book? (Susan do write one like that about the Americans! I said to Honks oh why doesn’t she? & Honks said because she is a Crusader.) Did you scream at it? It had awful reviews here & I believe in America too-the reviewers are honestly too dim nowadays. Then she got on the wireless to explain a bit & the interviewer had never read the book so they never spoke of it at all. I daresay the public will be faithful, but it wants a bit of a lead, at first.

  We shall know in three weeks whether the TV will do the Mitford saga & then I’ll put them in touch with you if they do it. The trouble is me having sold P of L to films for a pittance 100 years ago. The owner is making trouble. Unfortunately P of L is the key book.

  Lovely autumn weather, a great help to me. I’m out of doors all day.

  Much love Soosie, N

  Darling Soo,

  The few things you said about Muv in yr. letter opened up a perfect flood of thoughts in that direction, so I must just impart them.

  The fact is that unlike you I actively loathed her when I was a child (esp. an older child, after age 15), and did not respect her, on the contrary thought she was extremely schoopid and narrow-minded-that is, sort of limited-minded with hard & fast bounds on her mind. But then, after re-getting to know her after 1955, I became immensely fond of her, really rather adored her. Therefore in my memory she turns into 2 people; I’m sure she didn’t change much, because people don’t except for a certain mellowing with onset of old age.

  The thing that absolutely burned into my soul was the business of not being allowed to go to school. So much so that when she came here, when Dinky was 7, the subject came up and I found myself literally fighting back tears of rage. Do admit it was maddening. One thing I specially remember: when I was about 11, I wanted to be a scientist (natch I didn’t tell you about it, Susan, because whenever one
told you one’s deepest ambitions it was only to be TEASED UNMERCIFULLY and laughed off face of earth), because I had just read The Stars in their Courses by Sir James Jeans. So, noting I should have to go to college in that case, I biked to Burford and rather shudderingly went to see the headmaster of the grammar school. He said I could be admitted to the grammar school (which had a scientific laboratory, that’s why I wanted to go) if I could pass a fairly easy exam, which I cld. learn to do by reading a list of books he gave me.1 I was v. excited over this, rushed home to ask Muv if I could get the books, take the exam, and bike to school each day. A cold NO was the only answer, no reason given. After that lessons with the gov. seemed totally pointless, although I admit I could have learned far more than I did.

  She must have been fairly horrid when young, too. For instance when she was about 30 living in Dieppe, Nellie Romilly (not yet married) aged 20 came to her in deep despair to say she had lost 10 pnds. in gambling, owed it as a debt, and could Muv lend it to her? Muv went straight to Aunt Natty and told all, I expect poor Nellie was bitterly punished. Muv herself told me this, but simply couldn’t see what a vile thing it was to have done. I guess it’s that awful disapproving quality that I always hated about her.

  Another thing I remember-but perhaps you’ve forgotten, or perhaps I dreamed it: when you were about 29, we were going for one of those long, wet Swinbrook walks when the rain seemed like one’s inner tears of bitterness because of boredom & general futility of that life. You told how Muv had given you a terrific dressing down for not being married, having just turned down yet another proposal of marriage, & that you would be an old maid if you pursued this hopeless route. Something like that. Did it happen?2