The Penguin Complete Novels of Nancy Mitford

by Nancy Mitford

  ‘We’ve brought the whole family!’ Loud English voices, familiar since all time. ‘Thought you wouldn’t mind! Let me see now, I don’t think you know my sister-in-law, do you?’

  I didn’t think I knew any of them, though on the telephone, when they had asked to come, there had been something about having met at Montdore House in the old days; I tried to look welcoming but I was dying for a word with Alfred. ‘What would you like to drink?’

  ‘My dear! Liquid fire if you’ve got it! Vodka – just the very thing! We are utterly, completely, and absolutely whacked! Well, the shops all the morning, only to have a look of course – the prices! Then luncheon, that set us back considerably. Then we went to see Myrtle’s Madarm – now here’s the name (you know, I couldn’t remember it yesterday on the telephone).’ Delving among the alluvial deposits in the bag and bringing out a crumpled piece of paper. ‘Comtesse de Langalluire – that’s a tongue-twister if ever there was one! You’ve never heard of her? I say, I only hope there’s nothing fishy. The flat (Boulevard Haussmann) is none too clean and when we arrived Madarm had gone to the police; one of the girls had escaped.’

  ‘No, Mum, she hadn’t escaped at all in the end. You know quite well, she’d only gone out to lunch and forgotten to say.’

  ‘So we saw the Monsewer – a sinister little hunchback.’

  ‘The concierge was sweet.’ Myrtle was evidently determined to be confided to Madarm whatever happened.

  ‘There was a son who looked quite idiotic and rather frightening.’

  ‘Yes, but I shan’t see anything of him as I’ll be out all day at the Sorbonne.’

  ‘However, when Madarm herself arrived we thought she seemed rather nice.’

  ‘She had a crew cut,’ said one of the boys.

  ‘Her face was sensible, I thought.’

  While all this was going on, the Conservative husbands were expressing amazement at finding Uncle Matthew, whom they knew quite well but who clearly did not know them from Adam.

  ‘This is Lord Alconleigh, Peggy.’

  ‘How d’you do? I’m a great friend of Jennifer’s.’

  ‘For pity’s sake! What on earth do you see in her?’

  ‘It seems you had a spot of trouble here this afternoon?’ the other M.P. was saying to Alfred.

  ‘No harm was done; personally I think it will have a good result. Both sides will have to be more conciliatory – both have been to blame. This may clear the air.’

  ‘Can’t see the point of making bad blood over those islands, myself. Massigli tells me they are submerged most of the time.’

  ‘There has never been a more pointless quarrel,’ said Alfred, firmly. ‘Now I hope the question will be sent up to The Hague and that we shall hear no more about it.’

  When everybody was happily chattering, Alfred murmured to me, ‘Did you say Charlie and Fabrice are here?’

  ‘Uncle Matthew brought them.’

  ‘How splendid of the old boy. Where are they now?’

  ‘Gone to a concert, with Sigi.’

  ‘Good. That’s very good news. Now we must take serious steps – get them into a lycée if we can –’

  Brown reappeared, announcing ‘Madame la Duchesse de Sauveterre and Monsieur le Marquis de Valhubert.’

  ‘We’ve just heard about your riot,’ said Charles-Edouard, ‘we called to see if you were alive. When the concierge said you were at home we came up. Tante Odile is in Paris for a few days.’

  ‘How kind you are.’ I was frantic inside because of not knowing what names to put to the loud Conservative voices. To my relief, Alfred did the introducing. When he got to Uncle Matthew, I said, ‘My uncle saw more of the riot than any of us because he arrived when it was at its worst and drove through the thick of it, escorted by policemen –’

  ‘I call that very brave,’ said an M.P.

  ‘My dear fellow, they were a perfectly harmless lot – just a pack of children. I didn’t think much of it – if that’s the best they can put on –’

  ‘Never underestimate a French crowd,’ said the Duchess. ‘I speak with knowledge. Three of my grandmothers perished in the Terror.’

  ‘Three!’ said Uncle Matthew, much interested. ‘Did you have three grandfathers as well? What happened to them?’

  ‘We say grandmothers when we mean ancestresses,’ Charles-Edouard explained.

  The Duchess said, ‘Oh, various things. One of them was murdered in the Jacquerie, and the best housemaid I ever had was shot dead in the Stavisky riots. So don’t talk to me of a French crowd being harmless.’

  Uncle Matthew seemed to be struggling to remember something and came out with, ‘Joan of Arc – didn’t she have a sticky end? I suppose she was a relation of yours?’

  ‘Certainly, if she was a d’Orléans, as most people think nowadays.’

  ‘Really?’ said Charles-Edouard, with his inward laugh. ‘Why do they?’

  ‘Voyons, mon cher! La Pucelle d’Orléans! Did she not sit at the King’s table? That simple fact alone is all the proof I need. For a woman who was not born to sit at the table of a King of France would be a greater miracle than any voices, let me tell you.’

  ‘My aunt takes no account of historical characters unless they happen to be relations of hers. Luckily they nearly all are. Charles X was a great-grandfather so that arranges the legitimate royal lines of every country except Russia, while her Murat grandmother brings in Napoleon and the Marshals.’

  Madame de Sauveterre asked Alfred to show her his library which had been redecorated during the time of Sir Louis Leone. She said she had seen coloured photographs of it in a magazine which Jacques Oudineau had brought down to Boisdormant. ‘He knows I like picture papers so he brings me all the ones he has finished with when he comes to see his father. You wouldn’t believe how extravagant he is – abonné to everything under the sun and you know the price they are nowadays. People are getting much too rich, it can’t be a good thing.’

  ‘I want to see Jacques Oudineau,’ said Charles-Edouard. ‘I hear he has got a Moreau l’aîné he wouldn’t mind selling –’

  Uncle Matthew began telling the Conservatives about Yanky. ‘Teenage Beats,’ I heard him say. ‘You must remember the name, Yanky Fonzy, and ask for his records because he gets money for every one they sell. Of course, I’m not saying he’s Galli-Curci –’

  I took Valhubert by the arm. ‘I must have a word with you.’ In a loud voice I added, ‘Come in here, the National Gallery has sent us a large, dull picture and I want you to advise me where to hang it.’ We went into the yellow drawing-room. ‘Have you seen Grace this evening?’

  ‘Not yet. When we got back from the country my concierge said there had been this riot so I drove straight on here to see what it was all about.’

  I told him everything. He shook with laughter, especially when I got to the Club and the Duke. ‘But my dear Fanny, what now? What does Alfred say?’

  ‘You do realize we must never tell him about the riot not being real. He would look the most awful fool if it got out – I haven’t told Grace by the way –’

  ‘No, better not. Pity to spoil her fun – an anti-English riot is just her affair – she must be thrilled!’

  ‘She is naughty! Philip says if we can keep up the fiction there’s some hope of making them all see sense. As for the boys, Alfred doesn’t know the full horror. When these people have gone I shall have to explain about Yanky and the Showbiz. Oh, Charles-Edouard, children!’

  ‘Don’t worry. They’ll soon be off our hands, in prison.’

  ‘Here’s Philip, oh good. So what’s up?’

  ‘It’s wonderful. I’ve been with the press boys ever since I saw you. The best hoax of all time. Simply nobody has twigged. The stories will be amazing, you’ll see.’

  The newspapers played up exactly as Philip had hoped they would. The reputable ones stated, quite soberly, correctly as far as it went,
that several hundred students had gathered outside the British Embassy shouting slogans and that after about half an hour they had dispersed of their own accord. These reports were accompanied by editorial comment to the effect that if there was a serious misunderstanding between France and England it was time that it should be cleared up. Perhaps the English had not used the most tactful of methods in pressing their rightful claim to the Minquiers Islands. No doubt it had been necessary to entertain Dr Niam (now in Pekin) but the timing of his visit had been unfortunate. As for the European Army, while we in England realized its desirability and inevitability, we had not shown much comprehension of French difficulties in this respect. All in all, we should do well to keep in with our friends since our enemies were legion. The French papers were even more conciliatory, digging into the history of the Entente and saying that so solid an edifice was not to be shaken by a few students exhibiting bad manners.

  The Grumpy group reported the affair in their own inimitable style:

  ‘POST’ MAN IN PARIS RIOTS

  I WALK WITH THE SCREAMING TEN THOUSAND

  According to Mockbar, a fearful mob, baying for British blood, had milled in the Faubourg utterly uncontrolled by the police who looked as if they would join in for tuppence. It reminded him of the worst days of the Commune. No mention of sheltering among the ancient bibelots; heroic Mockbar had swayed to and fro in the thick of young devils who, had they guessed he was a Briton, would have scuppered him then and there. While, inside the Embassy, women wailed and babies wept (‘That’s you and ’Chang, Northey,’ I said), the Ambassador had escaped by a back door and taken shelter at the Quai d’Orsay. His First Secretary was drinking at the bar of a nearby hotel.

  Lord Grumpy’s editorial said: British lives are threatened, British property is menaced. Where? Behind the Iron Curtain? In barbarous lands across the seas? Not at all. These things occurred in Paris. How did our Ambassador the Pastoral Theologian respond to the outrage? Was he at his post? We think there should be a full inquiry into the events of this black day in the history of British diplomacy. If Sir Alfred Wincham has failed to do his duty, he should go.

  Lord Grumpy’s remarks, as usual, gave much pleasure. They were read with delight and absolutely unheeded by several million Englishmen. Later in the week, Alfred went home to report on the, now vastly improved, situation and to see, with the Foreign Office experts, what could be done to re-establish the Entente. This was made easier by the fact that Junior across the Atlantic was annoying Mother and Auntie with behaviour learnt, it must be said, at their knees. Under a cunning pretext of anti-colonialism, the Americans were scooping up trade in a part of the world where hitherto French and English interests had been paramount. The quarrel over the Eels began to look silly; as soon as the newspapers had lost interest in them and gone on to more important subjects, the dispute was quietly submitted to The Hague Court where the islands were judged to belong to England. In harmony with the spirit of the age, we then granted them full independence.

  During the Anglo-French honeymoon which now began, Basil disembarked his atom marchers at Calais. They were all in fancy dress, the men in kilts, the women in trousers; the weather was clear and sparkling and not too cold; the whole expedition was permeated from the start with a holiday atmosphere. Since atom objectors do not exist in France, literally the only public matter on which all Frenchmen are united being the desirability of a Bomb of one’s own, the French immediately assumed that the march was a congratulatory gesture to unite Aldermaston with Saclay. The word jumelage was freely used by the newspapers; the two establishments were henceforward twin sisters, friends for ever. When the Britons got off their boat they were met with flowers, flags, speeches and wine; from the moment they landed they hardly drew a sober breath. None of them knew any French so, cleverly prompted by Basil, they concluded that the reception meant that the whole population felt as they did; in a joyful Kermesse they danced rather than marched across Normandy. They were not allowed to pay for a meal, a drink or a bed; Basil and his Grandad, who had extorted huge sums for the all-in trip, garnered a rich profit. At Saclay the Atom Minister himself, sent by Northey, was there to greet them. There were more flowers, more flags, stronger wine and longer speeches. The Britons were cordially invited to go to the Sahara and witness the first French atomic explosion whenever it should take place. In a happy haze of drunken misapprehension, they were then driven in official motors, with a circus turn of motor-bicyclists escorting them, to Orly and sent home free by Air France.

  ‘Never, since the war, have Anglo-French relations been so cloudless,’ said The Times. The Daily Telegraph said, ‘Sir Alfred Wincham’s wise and subtle manoeuvring in a difficult situation has been triumphantly successful.’ Lord Grumpy said the cunning French had twisted the lion’s tail once more and that their valet, Wincham, ought to be sent, forthwith, to Rangoon. Plans and projects for The Visit were now put into operation.

  23

  ‘I wouldn’t mind the boys calling me Dad,’ said Alfred (who did mind, however, and had made great efforts, successful with David and Baz, to be called Father), ‘if only they wouldn’t pronounce it Dud.’

  It was the morning after the riot; Grace and Charles-Edouard had come round for another conference on what could be done with the children. Our two had had breakfast with Alfred; there had been a long, perfectly fruitless argument on lines which were becoming all too familiar. In a sincere effort to use language that Alfred could understand they explained that members of the Showbiz were the aristocracy of the modern world; that Yanky was its King and that as Yanky’s gentlemen-in-waiting they had the most covetable position of any living teenagers. Alfred asked what their plans were for the immediate future. ‘Driftin’ with Yank to Russia,’ was the reply. (Driftin’, it seems, is Showbiz for touring.) They were to drift through France, Switzerland, and Czechoslovakia, possibly taking in the Balkans; their final objective was Moscow. ‘So lucky we all opted to learn Russian at school.’

  ‘And wherever we appear,’ Fabrice said, ‘the kids will go screaming, raving mad because in those countries everybody has Yanky’s discs which they buy on the black market. You should see the fan-mail he gets from iron teenagers.’

  Alfred then spoke, in the tongue of our ancestors. He summoned up all his wisdom, all his eloquence, he drew tears from his own eyes as he argued his case for civilization. They listened politely for an hour. When they were quite sure he had finished and that they were in no way interrupting him they replied that his fate had been an example to them. They couldn’t help noticing that he had led a sorrowful existence year after year, growing old without having known any pleasure, fun, or enjoyment and that as a result he had landed up in this deplorable, antiquated giggle-academy, the English Embassy at Paris.

  ‘When I left the room,’ he said, after telling us all this, ‘I heard Charlie say to Fabrice “Poor Dud, he’s had it!” I think that pretty well sums up their attitude. We are duds, Valhubert, and we’ve had it. Yes, even you.’

  ‘I don’t know why you should say even me. Specially me, I should have thought.’

  ‘You are a man of action and as such they might have had a certain respect for you. Of course they know quite well that you had a good war, but I’m afraid that means nothing to them because what were you fighting for? They don’t care a fig for liberty, equality, fraternity, or any of our values – still less for their King and Country. The be-all and end-all of their existence is to have a good time. They think they could have rocked and rolled quite well under Hitler and no doubt so they could.’ Alfred buried his face in his hands and said despairingly, ‘The black men affirm that we are in full decadence. Nothing could be truer, if these boys are typical of their generation and if they really mean all the things they told me just now. The barbarians had better take over without more ado. We made the last stand against them. At least we have that to be proud of. But you have fought in vain, my life’s work has come to nothin
g – this job the most pointless part of it, very likely.’

  ‘My dear Ambassador,’ said Valhubert, ‘you take it all too tragically. Young persons in prosperous circumstances live for pleasure. They always have and no doubt they always will. When I think what Fabrice and I were like, right up to the war! Between women and hunting, we never had a serious thought. Of course when we were Sigi’s age, our noses were pressed in the direction of a grindstone by force of economic sanctions. If we could have earned £9 a week packing shavers do you really think we would have stayed at the lycée another hour? And I bet we’d have found some watertight method of nicking, by the way.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Valhubert, but I cannot agree with you. Many adolescents, even rich ones, have a love of learning for its own sake. I know, because as a don I have had hundreds of civilized rich young men through my hands.’

  ‘But with these boys you must face the fact that they are not, and never will be, intellectuals. Hard for you, I know – still two out of four in your family took firsts, quite an honourable percentage. The other two never will, in a hundred years. In the end they will probably be the most conformist all the same.’

  ‘But nowadays no respectable career is open to people without degrees.’

  ‘To speak practically. Sigi will be very rich – I have never had to work so I can’t exactly blame him if he doesn’t, can I? Little Fabrice only has to play his cards well enough to refrain from throwing them in Tante Odile’s face to be in the same circumstances.’

  ‘But Charlie must earn his living.’

  ‘Don’t you see, darling,’ I intervened, ‘the point is that he can. He was making this huge amount in London, and now, at sixteen, he is one of the kings of Showbiz!’ I trust that a note of pride could not be detected as I said these words.

  ‘You torture me. Have we brought a human soul to this stage of development only to see him promoting pop sessions?’