Counting One's Blessings

by William Shawcross

  Please remember me to Sister and the Ralstons & everybody. I am longing for you to come back Mother darling.

  I must stop as it’s post time. Good-bye darling Mother, from your very very

  loving Elizabeth

  20 April 1918 to Beryl Poignand

  St Paul’s Walden Bury

  My dear Medusa

  […]

  We’ve just come back from Devonshire. It was deliciously warm there, and very pretty. The cliffs are such a wonderful red colour there, and you’d adore it because of the bathing! […]

  I won’t write about the War – It’s too awful. I heard from Nina Balfour yesterday, that Lord Settrington* is reported wounded & missing. I am so sorry, he is so nice, & I hope he’ll turn up alright. So very many are missing now aren’t they? It was snowing hard last night but it’s warmer today! I wonder if Peace will ever come. I feel as if I never want to go to a dance again, one only makes friends & then they are killed. Don’t you feel depressed lately! But the news is better now, I hear that Foch† is quite pleased. I do hope you’ll enjoy yourself frightfully. V loving E

  PS Please forgive a deadly dull letter but I am cold, and depressed! Do write soon old thing. The children leave on Monday.

  26 May 1918 to Beryl Poignand

  Dutch House

  Dovercourt

  4 o’clock

  My dear Medusa

  Here is my promised letter. I am still waiting for yours! It is great fun here, tho’ we did nothing till yesterday when we dined with Wisp. My first visit to a warship of any kind at all! We have just come back from lunching & will be shortly returning to dine!!! Well, I’ll tell you all about it. You see we didn’t go before as he was boiler cleaning. We take the train out to Parkeston (5 minutes) and there his motor launch meets us and we go alongside the ‘Scott’.* Then there is a ‘wavy ladder’ (thank the Lord there are ropes each side) and when you get to the top a couple of sailors who salute, and one feels foolish and doesn’t know if one ought to bow low and return their salutation! Then one falls heavily down the hatch (is it?) into the waiting arms of a Sub or (preferably) a Lieut! Wisp’s cabins are most luxurious & beautifully fitted, as of course it is one of the very newest ships. He has his meals in lonely splendour, the Ward room is opposite. He’s got three pipers & they always play during meals which is very nice. I haven’t seen over the ship yet, but hope to soon. […]

  The station master (Syme) at Glamis’ son is still with Wisp. He is a very good looking man, and excellent I believe. He bursts in at meals with Signals, he is Yeoman of Signals. The Sub also yells things in & says ‘Aye Aye Sir’ & altogether it’s fearfully nautical!!! Mess traps. Hatch somethings. Port holes. Cocktails. Aft – Forrard! Etc Etc. […]

  Very loving Elizabeth

  Thursday 13 June 1918 to Beryl Poignand

  20 St James’s Square

  My dear Medusa

  You were a swine in St James’ St yesterday. You made me blush like anything! I knew what you were thinking – two couples walking out one behind the other!! We went and had lunch with Freddy at the Berkeley, a very riotous one I assure you! But it was great fun. In the evening I dined with Lord and Lady Powis, a huge dinner party and we danced afterwards till about 1 o’clock. I had several dances with a little American* from the Embassy with such nice eyes. He was so funny and asked me to come to the play with him. I said ‘wouldn’t that be fun’ and he’s coming to tea next week! Oh Lor I’ve gone and been and done it now! […]

  Lord Erskine would insist on walking home with me, and whenever I danced with the American he looked furious and whenever I danced with him the American was angry! It was awful. ‘Oh Gawd’ as the private soldier said when he was doing Macduff. I have suddenly taken to blushing again. I do hope it will go soon, it’s such a bore. Oh dear, do write and let me know how you are enjoying yourself, you know I haven’t seen you properly for some time now – I don’t count our midnight conversation last week! Have a very good time. V loving Elizabeth

  10pm Saturday 21 September 1918 to Beryl Poignand

  Glamis Castle

  Thank God – it’s all over! I’ve made my speech, and now there are only the hymns to play in Chapel tomorrow, & I shall be at peace. I’ve really had an awful time these last few days – things invariably crop up when Mother goes away, and I’ve had such a lot to decide. […]

  I had this sale in Forfar today! I was so sick and frightened and can’t remember anything about it except that I managed to get through my speech without a mistake! Adèle and I were greeted by Mr Tubey, then Adèle, Eupham Douglas & I went up on to the platform with a clergyman on each side of us!!! I was presented with a bouquet! ‘Orrible. I am so glad it’s over I feel weak and dithery this evening in consequence! […]

  Pip Pip! I feel so tired, must stop. Goodbye old darling do behave. Very loving Elizabeth

  […]

  ‘I was brought up like that: “Well darling, it’s your duty” and saying to one’s mother “I can’t”. But you know that, aged seventeen, you’ve got to go and open the flower show: “It’s your duty, darling.” ‘

  Tuesday 1 October 1918 to Beryl Poignand

  Glamis Castle

  My dearest Medusa

  Many many thanks for your letter – I was beginning to wonder what had happened to you if you’d eloped with —— or some such ‘orrible affair! You must be very very hard worked, I do wish you could come up here for a holiday. It would be so heavenly! […]

  Very nice men in the hospital now. We sing in the evenings a certain amount – they love it. […]

  Bulgarian news is good isn’t it? I do hope Turkey will be reasonable. What about Peace next Spring?

  Goodbye old thing, do write when you can, as I shall feel so lonely. R & Wisp also going today, oh why can’t you come?

  Elizabeth

  PS We had Holy Communion on Sunday, & 4 soldiers came & Sister. I do wish you could have painted a picture of them kneeling before the Altar, in their hospital blue with Sister. It really was a beautiful sight, tho’ it gave me a lump in my throat. I keep on thinking of it. Poor dear boys, it was so pathetic somehow. You can’t imagine quite I daresay, but it would have made a heavenly picture. The white & silver Altar, & the blue suits with Sister’s white apron & cap etc.

  22 October 1918 to Beryl Poignand

  Glamis Castle

  My dearest Medusa

  Many many thanks indeed for thy charming letter – I am so glad you are having a nice quiet rest at Westgate – it will do you a lot of good.

  I was just thinking how sad it would have been if I’d never met you! You are my best friend and adviser now – worse luck pour vous! I am writing at 11.30 p.m. and ought to be in bed. I’m in my dressing gown anyway and all ready for bed. The two Aussies are very nice. Mr Williamson is good-looking & very nice; Mr Rohan is tall, fat and merry and also nice. We have great jokes and they are always saying the most complimentary things to me which I take as a terrific joke; so we are great friends. Mr W is really a dear, I am very fond of him – poor boy, he has got a very badly smashed foot and has been very ill. I give them quinine twice a day and feed them up, so I am called ‘Nurse’.

  Yesterday we all drove into Forfar in the wagonette (Rosie is still here) and did lots of shopping. I went with Mr Williamson to try to get a pair of shoes, but he couldn’t get one anywhere near on. I’m afraid he was dreadfully disappointed.

  Well – on Saturday I got quite a good post – two letters and a parcel from France, and one from an Australian!! A very long and really quite interesting letter from my little Canadian,* with an iron cross in the parcel. I am so pleased with it – one from Victor Cochrane Baillie – he is coming on leave at the end of the month, and wonders whether I shall be in London – which I shall not. And some photos from this Aussie who had been staying with the Ralstons. […]

  Yes – what shall we do about Ernest?† It must be over 6 months since we heard. Do you think he can be killed or anything? I cannot understand his
not writing.

  Here is the post coming – I hear Barson and a crackle of papers arriving? What for me? Nothing? […]

  Well, there isn’t much to tell you, I must go and give my little boys their quinine and they will say some silly things!! I do wish you were here.

  Good byeee old darling,

  from your very loving

  Elizabeth

  At eleven o’clock in the morning of 11 November 1918, the Armistice was signed and the war ended. Elizabeth was at Glamis and years later would recall the soldiers from the Castle marching happily together to the pub. ‘They went straight to the village to celebrate and I think they drank too much. Seats got broken up to make a bonfire and all that sort of thing. I can see them now, all going to enjoy this wonderful moment.’

  27 November 1918 to Beryl Poignand

  20 St James’s Square

  My Thweet Medutha

  Ithn’t it thad? I’ve developed a lithp. Do you like lithpth? […]

  Mr Williamson, Mr Rohan & a friend of theirs came to tea with me today. They were very nice & so silly, & we yelled songs round the piano after tea. I did so hope you would come in, why didn’t you? I would have liked you to have seen them.

  I feel depressed now. Can’t think why. No reason on earth. Everything is wonderful. So long waiting for Mike perhaps – see only 241 officers have arrived in a fortnight. Do ring up; Mr W has such a funny soft voice. Mr R just as fat & nice & jolly as ever.

  Very loving

  Elizabeth

  PS Let’s go to a play. Find out what’s good pleeeeese.

  5 January 1919 to Beryl Poignand

  St Paul’s Walden Bury

  My dearest Medusa

  I was so dreadfully sorry to fly off and leave you in that rude fashion on Friday! We simply dashed off to the station and arrived just as a train full of repatriated prisoners got in. However, [Mike] wasn’t there and we watched five trains in and at last he came at about 7 o’clock. We waited with such amusing people from Kennington and Whitechapel!

  Mike is fairly well and cheerful, it is so delicious having him. He and David are playing billiards at the moment and I am rushing between the gramophone and this here letter! Mike brought a friend with him to stay on Friday, a man called Lathom. He looked very ill and absolutely dazed. He merely sat and looked at the fire. Tho’ he certainly looked much better after a good night’s rest. Poor boys, they must have had a beastly time, they hate talking about it. It was so pathetic at the station, you ought to go and watch a special in from Ripon. Personally I rather loved ‘The man from Toronto’. Did you? Do ring me up as we are coming up tomorrow for two days – must stop. Goodbye darling old thing.

  Very loving Elizabeth

  The Armistice had been greeted with joy across Britain but by the spring of 1919 the country was struggling with the enormity of the sacrifices that had been demanded of it. Three-quarters of a million British people had been killed. At the end of the war millions of people around the world were out of work and at least twenty million are thought to have been killed by the Spanish flu epidemic. Economic output had collapsed. Discontent grew and the siren calls of revolution were heard (and sometimes accepted) across Europe.

  Saturday undated [22 March 1919] to Beryl Poignand

  20 St James’s Square

  My dearest M

  Many many thanks for your note. […]

  I went with Adèle & her mother today to see the Guards* from the Equitable Insurance Office, in front of the Mansion House, & we saw beautifully. I was so amused recognising all my partners looking so comic & stiff!! You see they had to give ‘Eyeeeeees – right’ for the Lord Mayor. But the awful thing was not a soul cheered. There were millions & millions of people absolutely silent. Dreadful feeling. I longed to say ‘Cheer – damn you’ or words to that effect – it was ghastly. But they always get a wonderful reception in the West End, so that might make up. The only time they cheered was for the Prince of Wales, and at the very end of the procession a Black Maria rumbled along. You should have heard the roars of laughter & cheers – Oh the Cockney sense of humour! They simply doubled up with mirth! After 2 hours of silence this really tickled them! It was too funny going home! We had an electric brougham, & they thought we were some kind of Royalty, & I bowed smilingly, & it was fun. (New hat.) And going across Berkeley Square we passed three American officers, I bowed beautifully to them with my best smile, & they saluted! To change the subject. Alas! The letter is from a far far worse person than Mr Reynolds or Mr Parker! Do guess. I never had such a shock in my life when I got it. It began by my Christian name & ‘please forgive but what the heart feels, the tongue must speak or the hand write!!’ Darling I loff you – will you be mine – sort of idea – isn’t it orful? When shall I see you? Soon, pleeeeese do.

  Very loving Elizabeth

  Sunday night undated [6 April 1919] to Beryl Poignand

  20 St James’s Square

  My dearest Medusa

  How goes life with you? The usual beginning! I haven’t seen you for ages – at least it seems like ages to me – I haven’t written that letter to Mr Bagshawe* – ‘My dear Vivian, thank you a thousand times – I’ll come by the next boat – till then! Thine E.’ – do you think that would do? Ha Ha!

  Well, last night I gave a play party! We dined at the Ritz & went to ‘Joybells’ – George Robey† is too priceless. We must go – It was Neva, Emma Thynne & me, Mike, Captain Keenan & Charlie Settrington. I am writing in bed and am beginning to be sleepy. As a matter of fact I have taken a lot of exercise today! I went out for a joy ride with Charles – (as above). We went down to Walton & had lunch – then went to Box Hill, & went for a long walk – it was a delicious day, quite hot, & there is a most glorious view for miles & miles. Then we tootled along, & had tea at an extraordinary place, where the waiter winked, & said he also came from London! Then we went back to London, & I had a second tea with Katie. He’s a dear is Chawles, & honestly, just a friend. One’s family always thinks a man must be violently in love with one, which is so annoying if one is friends. Because there is nothing more pleasant than being friends, & the whole enjoyment would go at once, wouldn’t it, if anything flirtatious came into it? It’s a funny thing, but quite true!!

  If you have nothing to do one Sunday or Sat – I should go down there, & climb Box Hill – the view is worth it. I should think the bus would go to Dorking for that. […]

  Goodbye old darling and do write soon, from your loving Elizabeth

  ‘You weren’t supposed to go out actually without somebody. I was never allowed to go to a ball unless I went to dinner with somebody, you know, first. An eye was kept. As for being asked out to lunch by a young gentleman, absolutely impossible. Funny how things have changed …

  ‘But of course it made it frightfully exciting. I remember once creeping out of the house in St James’s Square round the corner into Duke Street and going off to lunch with a very nice young gentleman in one of those horrible little low cars. You know, you whizzed off and had lunch at some pub down Portsmouth Road, came back again. You know you felt so wicked. We were so innocent.’

  Thursday 17 April 1919 to Beryl Poignand

  St Paul’s Walden Bury

  My dearest Medusa

  Thank you so very much for your letter which I was more than pleased to receive – ah!! It’s really simply years since I last saw you – I don’t count Althorp, that was merely a glimpse. Wasn’t it awful? I do hate weddings! I was so annoyed at being drawn into conversation just when I was talking to you and when I came down again you’d gone. And with you all the sunshine (Colonial touch). Little Elizabeth [Elphinstone] is here and I had to chide her! She said to me – ‘Peter I know I am going to enjoy myself – Peter, I’m enjoying myself like the devil’. So I said, ‘darling you must not say such things’, ‘but Papa says it always’ she said. What can you say? She is such a darling.

  No – no more drives to Box Hill with Chawles – he probably loathes me by now, people usually do w
hen they get to know me! But it was great fun, & he’s really very nice.

  I’ve got a very sore arm from being inoculated! It’s all swollen up and looks ‘orrid.

  I haven’t answered Baggy yet. Isn’t it awful? Oh dear!

  How are you old darling? Very well I hope. I simply can’t write as Mike, Jock & David are having a comic argument in Hertfordshire! Forgive dull letter. Goodbye old darling.

  Very loving Elizabeth

  Sunday undated [31 August 1919] to Beryl Poignand

  Glamis Castle

  My dearest M

  Thank you a thousand times for your angelic letter. I have been very unhappy over poor Charlie* – he is my only real friend, & one feels one can never have another like him. He was a real friend, I wasn’t shy of him, and he was so delightful. It’s a dreadful thing, and his family simply adored him. He was quite unique, and always said what he thought, and altogether it’s terrible. I think I must have been fonder of him than I realized, because now there seems a kind of a blank – if you understand what I mean? Captain Glasses, Bruces etc are nothing, Charlie was the only one I could just talk naturally to – he was a darling, and I miss him very much. I liked him specially because he never tried to flirt, or make love or anything like that – which always spoils friendships. Even that day we spent down at Box Hill. […]

  Thank you again a thousand times for your letter, Very loving Elizabeth

  * Ronald Gorell Barnes, third Baron Gorell (1884–1963), Liberal peer and author.

  * Lady Strathmore’s father, Charles Cavendish-Bentinck, had died, aged only forty-seven, in 1865. Her mother, Caroline, married again in 1870, becoming Mrs Harry Scott of Ancrum; she was widowed again in 1889.

  * Violet Cavendish-Bentinck (1864–1932), known as ‘Vava’, Cecilia Strathmore’s younger sister and twin of Hyacinth. She never married and lived with her mother, Mrs Scott, at Ham, and later at Dawlish in Devon.