Kitabı oku: «The Mitfords: Letters between Six Sisters», sayfa 4

TWO 1933–1939

Letter from Unity to Diana.

By mid-1933, to all appearances, the three eldest Mitford sisters were settling down. At almost thirty, Nancy had at last reached the end of her affair with Hamish and was engaged to Peter Rodd, a clever, handsome banker, son of the diplomat Lord Rennell, who seemed on the surface a far better prospective husband than Hamish. Pamela was living in a cottage at Biddesden and managing the Guinness farm. Diana’s affair with Oswald Mosley was still regarded with disapproval by her parents, but her divorce from Bryan and the sudden death of Mosley’s wife had weakened the Redesdales’ opposition. The three youngest Mitfords were giving no outward cause for worry. Unity had become a keen member of the British Union of Fascists but this had been kept secret from her parents and they had no reason to suspect her growing fanaticism. Jessica, who was going to Paris for a year to learn French, was about to have her first taste of longed-for freedom. Thirteen-year-old Deborah was content in the Swinbrook schoolroom.

But beneath the deceptively calm surface, personal choices and political events combined to make the years leading up to the war a period of turmoil in the sisters’ lives. Nancy had accepted Peter’s proposal of marriage on the rebound, just a week after Hamish, desperate to extricate himself from their sham engagement, had pretended to be engaged to another woman. Peter, or ‘Prod’ as he soon became known in the family, was no more in love with Nancy than Hamish had been, but, like her, he was nearing thirty and was under pressure from his parents to marry. Peter’s career before meeting Nancy was as inglorious as his record after their marriage: he had been sent down from Oxford and was then sacked or had resigned from a succession of jobs, mostly found for him by his father. He was not only a drinker and a spendthrift, but pedantic and arrogant to boot. For Nancy, however, his proposal came as balm after the humiliation of being jilted by Hamish and she remained blind to his shortcomings. They were married at the end of 1933 and settled in Rose Cottage, a small house near Chiswick, where Nancy, in love with being in love, played for a while at being happy, writing to a friend, with no apparent irony, that she had found ‘a feeling of shelter & security hitherto untasted’. Since Pamela’s engagement to Oliver Watney had been called off, Nancy was now the only married Mitford – a not unimportant consideration as the eldest daughter. It was not long, however, before her determination to be amused by Peter’s inadequacies began to falter and her ability to overlook his unfaithfulness, neglect and over – spending was severely tested. In 1936, they moved into London, to Blomfield Road in Maida Vale, which suited Nancy because it brought her closer to her friends. But with no children – she suffered a miscarriage in 1938 – her marriage was increasingly unhappy.

Nancy could never take politics very seriously. Peter had left-wing leanings and she too became a socialist for a while, ‘synthetic cochineal’ according to Diana. When they returned from their honeymoon Peter and Nancy went to several BUF rallies, bought black shirts and subscribed to the movement for a few months. In June 1934 they even attended Mosley’s huge meeting at Olympia, which must have led Diana to hope that another sister was being won round to the cause. But Nancy was beginning to find Unity and Diana’s fanaticism distasteful. It was not just their political opinions that she disliked, she also deplored the seriousness with which they defended them. The posturing and self-importance that accompanied extremism went against her philosophy that nothing in life should be taken too seriously. Characteristically, she responded with mockery and wrote Wigs on the Green, a novel that satirized Mosley, fascism and Unity’s blind enthusiasm. Its publication in 1935 angered Diana: Mosley and his movement were one area where jokes were unacceptable and she regarded any attack on him as an act of betrayal. She broke off relations with Nancy and the two sisters hardly saw or wrote to each other until the outbreak of war four years later. Unity also threatened never to speak to Nancy again if she went ahead with publication but failed to put her threat into action. Nancy’s letters to Unity, written in the same mocking tone that she used in her novel, betrayed an underlying affection for her wayward younger sister in spite of her aversion to her politics.

Pamela ran the Biddesden dairy farm until the end of 1934. After her broken engagement she had many suitors but formed no deep emotional attachments. John Betjeman, the future poet laureate, proposed to her twice but, although fond of him, she was not in love and turned him down. Her hobby was motoring; she was a tireless driver and made several visits to the Continent in her open-topped car, travelling as far as the Carpathians in Eastern Europe. In 1935, Derek Jackson, a brilliant physicist with a passion for horses, who worked at the Clarendon Laboratory in Oxford and hunted with the Heythrop hounds in the Cotswolds, began to court her. He had known the Mitfords for some years and, according to Diana, was in love with most of them, including Tom. Pamela was the sister most readily available and he proposed to her. Fifteen – year – old Deborah, who had a crush on Derek, fainted when she heard the news. Pamela and Derek were married at the end of 1936 and set off for Vienna for their honeymoon. On arrival, they were greeted with the news that Derek’s identical twin, Vivian, also a gifted physicist, had been killed in a sleigh-riding accident. Part of Derek died with his brother, who meant more to him than anyone – including Pamela – ever could. Derek’s speciality, spectroscopy, the study of electromagnetic radiation, was, unsurprisingly, a closed book to Pamela and she did not share his interest in painting and literature. Their joint passion was for their four long-haired dachshunds and the dogs may have gone some way towards making up for the children Derek did not want and which Pamela never had. Derek had inherited a large fortune from shares in the News of the World and was a generous man. They settled at Rignell House, not far from Swinbrook, where Pamela’s housekeeping talents made them very comfortable. Pamela’s few letters that survive from this period are written to Jessica, after Jessica’s elopement with Esmond Romilly, and to Diana to thank her for visits to Wootton Lodge, the house in Staffordshire that the Mosleys rented between 1936 and 1939. Derek got on well with Mosley and shared many of his political opinions. Nancy attended Pamela’s wedding but saw little of her until after the war; she did not like Derek and he in turn resented her treatment of Pamela.

In May 1933, Mosley’s 34-year-old wife, Cynthia, died from peritonitis, a month before Diana was granted a divorce from Bryan. Diana records that both she and Mosley were shattered by Cimmie’s unexpected death. Mosley threw himself into building up the BUF, which was growing increasingly militaristic and disreputable in the eyes of the general public, and embarked on an affair with Alexandra (Baba), Metcalfe, his wife’s younger sister. That summer, while the man for whom she had sacrificed so much was on holiday with another woman, Diana received an invitation to visit Germany from Putzi Hanfstaengl, Hitler’s Foreign Press Secretary, whom she met at a party in London. The British press had been criticizing the Nazis’ attacks on the Jews, and the BUF’s anti-Semitic stance was bringing it into conflict with British Jewry. When Diana questioned Hanfstaengl about the German regime’s attitude to Jews, he issued a challenge: ‘You must see with your own eyes what lies are being told about us in your newspapers’. In August, while her two sons – Jonathan was now three and a half and Desmond nearly two – were spending the holidays with Bryan, Diana left for Germany, taking with her nineteen-year-old Unity whose allegiance to Mosley made her a natural ally. Hitler had been elected Chancellor at the beginning of the year and the sisters’ arrival coincided with the annual Nuremberg Party Congress, a four-day celebration of the Nazis’ accession to power. The gigantic parades impressed Diana and demonstrated that fascism could restore a country’s faith in itself. Although Hanfstaengl’s promise of an introduction to Hitler did not materialize on this visit, she saw that links with Germany could be useful for furthering the interests of Mosley, whose career and welfare had now become the centre of her existence. At the end of 1934, with Mosley’s encouragement, she returned to Munich for a few weeks to learn German.

Unity had been in Germany since the spring of that year. She too had been enthralled by the Parteitag parades and her burning ambition was now to meet Hitler, whom she considered ‘the greatest man of all time’. Confident that she would succeed, she persuaded the Redesdales to allow her to live in Munich, where she set herself to learn German so as to be able to understand the Führer when they eventually met. From then until the outbreak of war, Unity lived mostly in Germany. Heedless of the inhumanity of the regime, she embraced the Nazi creed unquestioningly and let it take over her life. Hitler became her god and National Socialism, as she wrote exultantly to a cousin, ‘my religion, not merely my political party’. When she discovered that the Führer often lunched informally at the Osteria Bavaria, a small local restaurant, she started going there daily, sitting at a table where he could see her, and waited to be noticed. In February 1935, her patience was rewarded when Hitler invited her over to his table, spoke to her for half an hour and paid for her lunch. Over the next five years she was to see him more than a hundred times. She was rarely alone with him and, in spite of what has often been speculated, there was no love affair. Just to be in her idol’s orbit was sufficiently intoxicating and gave Unity a sense of importance which led her to imagine that she had a role to play in Anglo-German relations.

Unity spent her first months in Munich lodging with Baroness Laroche, an elderly lady who ran a finishing school for young English girls; she then lodged in a students’ hostel and a succession of flats before moving, in June 1939, into accommodation in Agnesstrasse found for her by Hitler and belonging, she wrote insouciantly to Diana, ‘to a young Jewish couple who are going abroad’. All the other members of the Mitford family, except Nancy, eventually made their way out to Germany. The Redesdales, who had initially disapproved of Nazism, were eventually won round to Unity’s point of view – permanently so in the case of Lady Redesdale.

Diana also met Hitler for the first time in the spring of 1935 and she remained loyal to their friendship for the rest of her life. In her view, the Second World War and its horrific consequences could have been avoided. Of all the sisters, the contradictions in Diana’s character are perhaps the most difficult to reconcile. The latent anti-Semitism and racism of pre-war Britain, assumptions that she never questioned, were at odds with her innately empathetic nature. Her admiration for a barbaric regime, whose essential characteristic was dehumanizing its opponents, jarred with the qualities of generosity and tolerance that led her family and many friends to cherish her. Endowed with originality and intelligence, and priding herself on intellectual honesty, she never acknowledged the reality of Hitler’s criminal aims. While her pre-war sympathy with Nazism can be accounted for by her witnessing the economic transformation of Germany under National Socialism, Diana’s post-war defence of Hitler can be mainly explained by her devotion and undeviating commitment to her husband. Mosley’s links with the Nazis and his opposition to the war brought his political career to an end and led to his and Diana’s imprisonment for three and a half years – years of social ostracism and public vilification during which they were separated from their young children. Diana, who possessed all the Mitford obduracy, sacrificed so much for Mosley that forever afterwards she had to go on defending his cause or admit that the losses and privations she had suffered were for no purpose.

Diana made several visits to Germany before the war and in 1936 she and Mosley were secretly married in the Berlin house of Nazi leader Joseph Goebbels, with Hitler as a guest. Ostensibly the secrecy was to protect Mosley’s political image but the main purpose was to keep the press from discovering the reasons for Diana’s frequent trips to Germany. The British Union of Fascists was in urgent need of funds and, with the help of a member, Bill Allen, who was an advertising magnate, Mosley had developed a scheme to set up a commercial radio station on German soil from which to broadcast to southern England. (No advertising was allowed on British wireless at the time and companies had no means of promoting their goods on the airwave.) Diana’s friendship with Hitler and other Nazi officials placed her in an ideal position to negotiate a deal, but it was essential that the connection between the proposed radio station and Mosley was not made public since the BUF’s unpopularity would almost certainly have led advertisers to boycott the project. It also suited Mosley to keep his marriage secret because he was still carrying on an affair with his sister-in-law. At the end of 1938, Diana successfully obtained Hitler’s agreement to the project and the station would have started broadcasting the following year had war not put an end to the venture. The birth of the Mosleys’ first son, Alexander, in November 1938, coincided with the signing of the contract and precipitated public disclosure of their marriage.

Diana’s closest confidante in the family during this period was Unity and they wrote to each other regularly during the pre-war years. Their correspondence, especially Unity’s, forms the bulk of surviving letters from the late 1930s. Incongruously written in the gushing tones of breathless excitement normally reserved for romantic fiction, the two sisters’ letters about Nazi Germany unavoidably dominate this section.

In the autumn of 1933, sixteen-year-old Jessica and her first cousin Ann Farrer travelled to Paris. Here they attended classes at the Sorbonne and lived with a Madame Paulain who was conveniently lax about chaperoning her charges and allowed the girls to slip out unobserved to nightclubs and the Folies-Bergère. In letters to her mother Jessica was careful not to mention these escapades but she did describe the riots that broke out in Paris following the sacking of the city’s right-wing police chief. She quoted from the communist daily, l‘Humanité, as well as from the Daily Mail, and expressed regret that her quartier had been much too quiet during the unrest. On returning to England, she endured a season as a debutante, a custom that went against her progressive principles but which she confessed to have been ‘rather guiltily looking forward to’. In 1935, Jessica read two more books that influenced her deeply: The Brown Book of the Hitler Terror, published in 1933, which detailed the horrors perpetrated after the burning of the Reichstag when communist and other opponents of the Nazis were rounded up, savagely beaten and in some cases murdered; and Out of Bounds: The Education of Giles and Esmond Romilly, written by two rebellious young cousins of the Mitfords. The Romilly brothers were the sons of Clementine Churchill’s sister, Nellie, and nephews by marriage, therefore, of Winston Churchill. Esmond’s contribution to Out of Bounds enthralled Jessica because his attitudes and opinions were so similar to her own. As a schoolboy at Wellington College, Esmond had interrupted Armistice Day commemorations by distributing anti-war leaflets, started a subversive magazine attacking public schools and, aged sixteen, had run away to work in a left-wing London bookshop. Jessica had followed his exploits – the subject of scandalized family gossip – for several years and hero-worshipped her cousin from afar, judging her own revolt against parental authority trivial by comparison.

In early 1937, Jessica and Esmond met by chance at the house of a cousin. Esmond had recently come back from Spain, where he had been fighting with the International Brigades and where he was planning to return as correspondent for the News Chronicle. For nineteen-year-old Jessica, this was the chance to translate her romantic idealism into reality and she begged Esmond to take her with him. They improvised a plan to trick the Redesdales into believing that Jessica was on holiday with friends, drew the money out of her ‘running-away’ account and disappeared to Spain. It was two weeks before their ruse was discovered. Nancy and Peter, to whom it was thought Jessica would be most likely to listen, went out to try to persuade her to come home but the attempt ended in a bitter row. Jessica had made up her mind and she and Esmond were married in Bayonne on 18 May, with Lady Redesdale in attendance. If there was any residual element of playfulness about Jessica’s politics – Nancy used teasingly to call her a ‘ballroom communist’ – it was eradicated by her marriage to Esmond, which also marked the beginning of a hardening in her feelings towards her family. Esmond was not amused by Unity’s friendship with the ‘sweet’ Führer, and although Diana had sided with Jessica over her elopement, Esmond’s hatred of fascism was unconditional.

Jessica’s break with Diana was final and, except in 1973 when Nancy was dying, they did not meet or correspond after 1937. Whenever Unity was in England, however, Jessica would arrange to see her – without Esmond’s knowledge – and although few of their letters from the period have survived, they continued to write to each other up to, and after, the war. That Jessica never broke with Unity as she had done with Diana – Nazism, after all, was no less abhorrent to her than fascism – highlights the complexity of the relations between the sisters. In a letter to her mother, Jessica wrote that she considered Diana a dangerous enemy and the fact that she ‘was once related’ to her made no difference to her feelings, yet in the very same letter she sent her love to Unity. In Unity’s last letter to her parents before she tried to kill herself, she sent ‘particular love’ to Jessica. Perhaps the close ties Jessica and Unity had formed as children were too strong to break, or perhaps Unity’s childishly boastful behaviour masked her sincerity of purpose and meant that Jessica could never take her seriously. Or did Jessica recognize in Unity a fellow zealot whom she could respect, even though they were at opposite ends of the political spectrum? Whatever the reasons, Unity’s espousal of Nazism remained an unsolvable riddle to her sister. ‘Why had she’, Jessica mused, ‘to those of us who knew her the most human of people, turned her back on humanity?’

In February 1939, Jessica and Esmond left for the United States. They had expected a storm of indignation to greet Chamberlain’s signing of the Munich Agreement, which handed over part of Czechoslovakia to Germany, and when it did not materialize the spectre of a completely Nazified Europe no longer seemed remote. Esmond looked to America for a new adventure, somewhere to explore while waiting to see whether Britain would fight. Money difficulties also contributed to their decision to leave the country: they had run up debts on their London flat and were being hounded by bailiffs. When Jessica came into a trust fund of £100 on her twenty-first birthday, rather than pay the bills they decided to spend it on one-way tickets to New York.

For Deborah, alone among the sisters, the sale of Swinbrook in 1936 was a lasting sorrow and spelt an end to what she regarded as an idyllic childhood. Lord Redesdale’s fortunes had not recovered from the Depression and he could no longer meet the cost of maintaining a large house and estate. Although Lady Redesdale had grown fond of the village and enjoyed living in the country, she went along with her husband’s decision. They moved to the Old Mill Cottage on the outskirts of High Wycombe, some thirty miles from London, taking with them Jessica and Deborah, the only two sisters still at home. The picture in the public mind of the Mitfords’ childhood is largely formed by Jessica’s first volume of memoirs, Hons and Rebels, and by Nancy’s novels. Both Jessica and Nancy remembered their childhood essentially as a period of unhappiness and discontent, and their parents as cold and unloving. Deborah had a much easier time than her older sisters; she found Lady Redesdale no stricter than other mothers and was fond of her father. The shock waves sent out by the escapades of her older siblings reached her as distant disturbances and were not sufficient to undermine the security of her well-ordered life, in which lessons with a succession of governesses alternated with long hours in the stable and on the hunting field. There was also a single term at The Monkey Club, a London finishing school from which Lady Redesdale quickly removed her when Deborah told her that it was full of communists. Jessica’s elopement, however, came as a complete surprise and, following closely after the sale of Swinbrook, shook her profoundly. It was a betrayal of the complicity she thought she shared with her beloved childhood companion and it brought an end to their intimacy. Jessica, who envied Deborah’s beauty and her position as their parents’ favourite, never realized how much she had meant to her youngest sister or understood how deeply her disappearance had upset her. To add to Deborah’s distress, the Redesdales forbade her to go to Jessica’s wedding and would not allow her to visit the Romillys when they returned to England. Although Deborah managed to see her sister a few times in secret, the visits were not a success. She did not get on with Esmond, did not like his communist friends, and found being in their company a ‘lowering experience’.

Deborah’s adolescent letters show that she could be quite as sharp and funny as Nancy but without her eldest sister’s spiteful streak. She adopted an apolitical stance early on, partly because she had seen the damage that extremism had inflicted on her family and partly because, unlike her sisters, politics simply did not excite her. When she visited Germany in 1937 and had tea with Hitler, she dismissed him as one of the ‘sights’, and was far more interested in a handsome musician in a band. Like Nancy, she deplored the fact that politics made people lose their sense of the ridiculous and she poked fun at Unity and Diana’s earnest involvement. Deborah looked forward to being a debutante, enjoyed her London Season, and, shortly after her ‘coming-out’ dance in March 1938, fell in love with Lord Andrew Cavendish, younger son of the Duke of Devonshire, to whom she soon became unofficially engaged.

Darling Corduroy,

You really are the most brick like girl I know. Thank you a MILLION times for the divine pound which I found here last night when I arrived back from the Isle of [Wight] nearly crying with tiredness, and I nearly died of joy when I saw the £1 because naturally I thought that the £10 was meant for my birthday you are a brick. We had a lovely time at the Widow’s¹ except that Muv & Debo had to do her knitting for her all the time so that wasn’t too good. Debo found a copy of Farve’s letter² to you in TPOF’s³ bag, poor Corda you do have bad luck, but the worst of the storm of fury fell before you came back, & was braved by Tuddemy,⁴ who softened them both down a heap. Boudy is in top-hole form & has told me all about her semi romance with Putzi,⁵ at least I call it a semi romance.

Idden⁶ & I went on the Sunday school outing to Southsea, & had some romance with (a) a Frenchman who we picked up on the Prom, & (b) two men on a switchback & one of them asked Idden to go to Blackpool with him for a week but I don’t think she’s going. It was fun.

Give my love to TPOL⁷ & Jonathan & Demi⁸ if they are there.

Much love & millions of thanks from Decca

Darling Honks

Thank you SO much for the HEVERN eveninger,¹ Blor was ‘dumfounded’ when Nancy told her what it cost. I honestly never seen anything quite so lovely in all my.

I even forgive you being a fascist for that.

Thanks ever so much.

Best love from Debo

We are having a fine time though very sorry to miss all the fun at home. We hear such dreadful accounts of the weather that we really couldn’t face the journey. Why do people say they don’t enjoy honeymoons? I am adoring mine.¹ You must come out here soon it is wonderful & everyone is so nice & kind.

Best love, NR

Darling Forgery

The book¹ about you is going to be extraordinary, your grandparents who you live with are called Lord & Lady Tremorgan (TPTPOF)² & you are called Eugenia let me know if you would rather not be.

I will finish this later.

Oh deary. Aunt Sport³ came & said some wonderful things & the chiefly wonderful was in Kew. She wanted to find out why her camellia drops its buds, so went up to a gardener & said ‘Good afternoon. Bud dropping by a camellia please?’ The gardener just said ‘Overfeeding’ & went on with his work. It was funny.

Nancy’s engagement to Peter Rodd was announced in July 1933. They were married five months later.

Much love, NR

WRITE

Darling Nard

I’m so dreadfully sorry to hear you are so ill & couldn’t go to the great meeting,¹ I think it’s too awful for you to have missed it. It does sound such heaven. What an outcry in the papers, though! As to Bill Anstruther-Gray,² I’m longing to see him thoroughly beaten up. He does deserve it. Was Nancy at the meeting?

Poor Nard, how awful, your illness costing you such a lot. I do hope you’re better by now, & not in pain. It sounds horrid.

Such a terribly exciting thing happened yesterday. I saw Hitler.³ At about six last night Derek⁴ rang me up from the Carlton Teeraum & said that He was there. Derek was having tea with his mother & aunt, & they were sitting just opposite Him. Of course I jumped straight into a taxi, in which in my excitement I left my camera which I was going to take to the shop. I went & sat down with them, & there was the Führer opposite. The aunt said ‘You’re trembling all over with excitement’, and sure enough I was, so much that Derek had to drink my chocolate for me because I couldn’t hold the cup. He sat there for 1½ hours. It was all so thrilling I can still hardly believe it. If only Putzi had been there! When he went he gave me a special salute all to myself.

Do write & tell me whether or not you think Olympia was a success? Does the Leader think so? I suppose all these absurd attacks in the papers are bound to do the Party a certain amount of harm. The accounts in the German papers were marvellous.

I do love hearing stories about the kits⁵ in your letters, do always tell me if they say anything funny.

With best love from Bobo

Darling Nard

Thank you so much for your letter, & the cutting about Tilly’s divorce.¹ I’m so glad Edward won, although I hardly know him, because I do think she was a little brute to say such horrid things about him.

Thank you so much too for sending me the cutting about Putzi² – I never see the Express here. I wonder if it’s true or if the Express put it in out of spite – I should think it is probably true, it’s just the sort of thing Putzi would do. Members of the Party are furious about it & I don’t wonder, they don’t like their high-up members making themselves ridiculous abroad. I saw to it that the cutting was shown all round the Brown House.³ I hope Putzi is coming back in about a fortnight, or even sooner, I hope he won’t bring Miss Olive Jones here, I would be cross.

The excitement here over the Röhm⁴ affair is terrific, everyone is horrified. No-one knew about it until last night. I heard rumours after dinner & immediately went into the town, where there were printed accounts of it stuck up in the chief squares. I couldn’t believe it at first. I went to the Brown House, but the street was guarded by SS men so I couldn’t get near. I waited in a huge crowd in a square near for two hours, they were all waiting to see Hitler & Goebbels⁵ come away from the Brown House. While we stood there several huge columns of SS, SA & Stahlhelm marched past us to the Brown House, & huge lorries full of sandbags with SS or Reichswehr sitting on top, & there were SS men dashing about the whole time on motorbikes & cars. It was all very exciting. Then word was passed round that Hitler & Goebbels had left by a back entrance & were already flying to Berlin, so I came home. Today no-one can talk of anything else, & there is a rumour that Schleicher⁶ & his wife, Röhm & Heines⁷ have all killed themselves. I wonder if it is true. I am so terribly sorry for the Führer – you know Röhm was his oldest comrade & friend, the only one that called him ‘du’ in public. How anyone could do what Röhm did I don’t know. It must have been so dreadful for Hitler when he arrested Röhm himself & tore off his decorations. Then he went to arrest Heines & found him in bed with a boy. Did that get into the English papers? Poor Hitler. The whole thing is so dreadful. I must now go into the town & find out what has happened since last night.

With best love to you & the Kits & Nan from

Bobo

Darling Nancy

Thank you ever so for your letter. How lovely, are you really going to give a party when I get back? I hope it will be as lovely as the one before I went. I actually return next Thursday the 19th, but have to go straight to Swinbrook, and please give me time to have my one-&-only evening dress altered by Gladys¹ so it fits me, otherwise I couldn’t possibly come. So could it be about 1½ weeks after my return?