Counting One's Blessings

by William Shawcross

  Au revoir, angel, your very loving Elizabeth

  PS Bertie has just got a lion and 2 buffaloes.

  13 January 1925 to the Prince of Wales

  [From Siolo Camp, while the Duke of York was away on safari]

  Darling David,

  I know now your feelings of relief and freedom when you get away from England on your own – away from all the petty little annoyances and restrictions that drive one crazy. It’s marvellous, isn’t it? I hate to think that you may have a real bad time in S. Africa, and it is terrible to think also that we shall all be nearly a year older before we meet again. At least, I already feel about two years older since December, having aged considerably on board the ship coming out, but I am losing it out here again, and now feel ready for anything.

  It’s a good life here, and you have no idea what it has done for Bertie. He is a different being, quite calm and losing all his nerviness – never turns a hair when he is being charged by a lion, and enjoying every moment of safari life. He was charged by an infuriated lioness with cubs the other day, and she was very close before she died – you sure do get some sort of excitement every day.

  I have shot 2 oryx (one quite good), 2 Grant’s Gazelle and had a shot at a lion, and am loving it! Don’t tell your sweet Father that I am shooting, but I hope to get something a bit bigger soon.

  It is extraordinary how very brave one becomes when one is hundreds of miles from anywhere – every day I marvel at my courage, because I really am a loathsome little coward. […]

  I hate the thought of coming home – no, I love coming home, but I hate being always under the eye of a narrow minded autocrat, and it will be awful with the two human members of the family away. Dear David, I hope your affairs are going well, and that neither your heart or your staff are giving you cause to worry. Those two seem to give you most trouble in life, and also of course you are very very naughty, but delicious. […]

  There are four wild men here who take us out hunting – one is a villainous young American from Texas – rather amusing, one a sleepy looking man of some English nationality, who is really the most wide awake charmer, & others; it’s great fun, and I don’t look too bad in my trousers and shirt. It makes me look very small which annoys me, but as thank God there are no tall women here, I don’t really mind. God bless you David, & best love

  Elizabeth

  31 January 1925 to D’Arcy Osborne

  From Kenya

  Dear Mr Osborne,

  I was so pleased to get your letter when I got back to camp last night; it brought a little whiff of wet black London and it also made me laugh, which I like. I am becoming very middle class out here, but am terribly happy and adore this life. It really is marvellous, and I find that I have taken wildly to shooting. I shot a rhinoceros the other evening, and when I tried to have my photograph taken standing sternly with one foot on the beast, I found this was quite impossible, and had to be taken ignominiously peering over its back. However I shall give you one, as I know you would appreciate it. I rise at 4.30 (I can hear you say my God) & go walking around with my spouse and the white hunter [Pat Ayre], who is a charming man with an imagination, an accent & a sense of humour. He is exactly like what I imagine the Scarlet Pimpernel to be, very slow & sleepy & long, and if he wasn’t so brown he would be rather good looking. He is English South African and talks American. Everyone talks American here and so do I. We usually hunt till ten or eleven, and then join the camp which has moved after us like magic, & drink and sleep till about 3.30, when we sally forth once again.

  I am so pleased, because I can walk miles here. I should say we walk at least twelve or more per day and mule the rest. I have been very lucky & seen quite a number of lions, and we hunt them wildly which is lots of fun. The game is amazing, & it is such fun to watch them. Rhino are very funny, very fussy like old gentlemen, & very busy all the time, quite ridiculous, in fact. Giraffes I adore – they are utterly prehistoric and very gentle. Also they move like a slow motion movie.

  I never knew that I could like this sort of life so much – out all day long, and one never knows the day of the week. I feel it must be good for one. England seems so small & full & petty and unhappy in contrast to Africa.

  The country up here is all plains & hills, mostly covered with bush – all thorn trees and simply huge. The flowers are delicious – this morning we went to try & find a lion which had been grumbling away quite close and failing to find him, I collected seeds & dug up roots, which both shocked and amazed our gun bearers! Yesterday we had stopped by a river to have breakfast when we heard shrill screams, and found a pretty little American lady stuck in her car in the middle of it. We hauled her out, & it turned out to be Mr & Mrs Martin Johnson,* who are doing the most marvellous cinema films of animals, hundreds of miles further north. They were coming down for mails, and we spent the day together, as they hadn’t seen anyone for months. He took a movie of us, and close ups of me, which will be ghastly. I will show you when I get home. They are charming and have certainly got the most wonderful photographs of elephant & rhino & leopards that you could imagine.

  I do hope you aren’t bored to death with all this – everything is out of proportion now, and I really am getting so common. I say ‘Ta awfully’, instead of ‘thank you’, & WORSE. There is also a doctor with the camp, a man called Capt. Caldwell who runs it and Lavinia Annaly. We are all so pally (!), and talk gaily on the most intimate subjects. Goodbye and may I come & see your modelling when I get back? I have never yet seen your house & would love to.

  Yours very sincerely,

  Elizabeth

  Undated [March 1925] to Rose Leveson-Gower

  The Nasir*

  Sudan

  My Darling Rosie

  Thank you a thousand times for your letter which arrived a day or two ago. We are now going down the Nile, having arrived in the Sudan about five days ago, and it is quite delicious. We had a marvellous time in Uganda, and I adored the shooting. It was very hard work as we used to walk about twenty miles a day – at least Bertie & I & the hunter did, and it was the greatest fun. I shot two buffalo there, and several of the buck, and one day I spent walking amongst elephants. It was simply wonderful, and made one feel such a worm looking at those enormous creatures. One could watch for hours – they are too amusing, and frightfully dangerous, but the man we were with is a great elephant hunter, and we walked about amongst the herds quite easily. We saw the source of the Nile at Jinja on Lake Victoria Nyanza, & then we went right down Lake Albert & went up the White Nile there till we got to Nimule which is the border of Uganda & the Sudan. There we were met by Captain Brocklehurst* & we came 90 miles by car, & joined this boat at Rejaf. It is very hot indeed here – in fact the first real heat that we’ve had – 100 in the dining place, and about 120 outside.

  Uganda I thought lovely in parts – especially the Ruwenzori mountains – the ones called the Mountains of the Moon, & the Semliki Valley which we walked down. That is about 50 or 60 miles wide, or even 100, with the Congo hills on one side & the Uganda on the other, with Ruwenzori at the top. The birds here are very marvellous – every sort & colour & shape, and the duck & geese are innumerable. […] The early mornings & evenings are so lovely, just like Scotland – tho’ this is far more African than anything I’ve seen yet. We stayed a day or two with the Francis Scotts [in] Kenya – it was rather amusing finding quite an English atmosphere suddenly like that.

  Well Rosie darling, I hope you are not going to desert Park Street altogether for that foul Chatham – you mustn’t. […]

  This is a very comfortable boat, & it is rather nice to have a real bath & wc, after having neither for about 6 weeks – tho’ personally I love a tent, and will you believe it – I get up with the greatest ease at 5! In fact I am always called at 6, even on ordinary days!! Jock would laugh. Some ridiculous things happen out here – our boys are very funny – the other day Lavinia wanted me & asked my boy where I was – & all he said was ‘Memsahib Bumbum’ pointing at t
he w.c. What he thought he meant I don’t know. […]

  Lavinia is being very nice & a fearful flirt – she is very modern & I feel quite old fashioned! I wonder if Wisp has shot down here at all? I am longing to show you my heads – how bored you’ll all be with them. Goodbye, darling, from your very loving, Elizabeth

  30 March 1925 to Lady Strathmore

  The Nasir

  Sudan

  My Darling Mother

  I got three delightful letters from you by the last mail, and they made me laugh so much – especially about old Gilbey & Lord Wodehouse! How dreadful about Leslie Blackburn – I sent Aunt Conta* a cable at once – I do feel sorry for them all. […]

  We have had a very peaceful time going down the Nile on this very comfortable boat, and shooting a little here and there. It is certainly very hot, the temp. is 104 inside here! So what it must be outside I don’t know!

  The birds are very wonderful here – marvellous colours, & lovely crested cranes & storks & every sort of duck & geese. Very few flowers as it is the dry season, but I believe they are good. As a matter of fact we’ve missed the flowers everywhere, except in Kenya.

  Captain Brocklehurst is being so nice. He has got charming manners, no temper so far! and has really been very pleasant, & I like him very much. The other man, Major Walsh, is also very nice, about 38, a pre-war soldier & very simple nice man. […]

  I wonder if the clothes have changed at all?! […] I hear that James & Rachel are quite friendly towards each other now, which is excellent! […]

  One is called at 6 always here, and gets up almost at once, & breakfast about 7.30. It really is too hot later, and the sun rises punctually at 6 & goes down at 6 in the evening, when it is nice & cool and lovely stars.

  We saw a very good native dance yesterday evening at a place called Kodok† done by Shilluks. They have a little leopard skin round their waists & huge bracelets & painted faces, & sing very well – rather like a violoncello, & the dances are most amusing. They act all the time, & have lion-hunts & sham battles. Further south where we’ve come from the people are Dinka’s, & wear nothing whatever. They have huge herds of cattle which they live for. A man would rather lose three wives than one cow! They live off nothing but curdled milk & blood – it must be very sustaining! They are very wild but quite friendly. The Uganda people are very civilised round the capital, rather too civilised, and the wilder ones in the North look far far healthier & better with nothing on & no religion.

  The missions only teach them religion poor things, & don’t trouble about making them work or keeping themselves clean, so consequently nobody will hire a Christian, as they are always dirty & dishonest. Isn’t it a pity? The Roman Catholics aren’t so bad, I believe they do teach them a few occupations.

  Well, au revoir Angel, perhaps I shall get home before this!

  Your very very loving

  Elizabeth

  Diary: Monday 6 April 1925

  Got up in my blue crepe de chine, & said goodbye to my dear & hideous trousers. Arrived at Kosti at 10.30 – flags etc. Joined the train, & puffed off to Makwar, having bidden Capt. Flett* a fond farewell. Very hot. Got to Makwar at 4, & went to see the Great Dam. Lots of engineers & DCs [District Commissioners] & Governors. […]

  Diary: Thursday 9 April 1925

  [In the evening the Duke and Duchess took the train to Port Sudan, accompanied by Brocklehurst and Walsh.] They sent a lot of soldiers, as somebody had put a bullet through the dining saloon the night before when they thought we were on the train! Dinner 8. Bed 10.

  Diary: Friday 10 April 1925

  Woke at 6.30, no shots at the train yet! […] We are all very sad it is all over – it has been marvellous. […] We got out & stood outside the train just before the sun went down, & the Red Sea Hills looked very grim. […] Arrived Port Sudan at 9.30. Met by Tebbits & went straight out to the Maloja* – 21,000 miles from Australia. Said goodbye & sailed at once. Goodbye Africa.

  4 May 1925 to D’Arcy Osborne

  White Lodge

  Dear Mr Osborne,

  I have suddenly thought that I would like to talk to you on the telephone! Will you ring me up one morning when you are feeling like telephoning. I am awake from 8 o’clock onwards. Somehow, when I ring somebody up myself it takes all the pleasure away from it, so if you would grapple with your instrument one morning, I’d be very glad to converse for, say, two minutes. Then perhaps we could make a date for a more magical conversation.

  I loved your magic book. The witch was delicious, and I read it on the Nile and it seemed quite possible there.

  I have just had tonsillitis and haven’t been out for over a week so I have been lucky – perhaps you are still away? In that case you are still luckier. I am bubbling inside with Africa, but I promise you I’ll keep it there, & won’t tell you stories when I see you. […] What about the Peace of Europe? I feel that E. P. Oppenheim† would solve any little difficulties at once. Have you read his last book?

  Yours sincerely,

  Elizabeth

  Diary: Saturday 9 May 1925

  Woke at 7.30. Breakfast 8.30. Bertie went off to Wembley at 11.15 very downhearted. I got up & listened to his speech on the wireless. It was marvellously clear & no hesitations. I was so relieved.

  It all went off very well, & he got back at 1.30. At 3.30 we went off to S.P.W. for a night. May & Andrew* were there, also Jock & Neva & Anne, David, Mother & Father. Looked at the Rockery after tea, & had a cocktail party. Bed 10.

  This was the speech which was shown at the beginning of the film The King’s Speech (2010, directed by Tom Hooper). The Duke was portrayed as being practically unable to speak because of his stammer. He had indeed been nervous in advance, and wrote to his father on 4 May,† five days before the speech was to be made:

  My dearest Papa

  I am enclosing a copy of my speech to you next Saturday, which I hope you will think is short enough. Several portions have been removed including the thanks to different people. I do hope I shall do it well but I shall be very frightened as you have never heard me speak & the loud speakers are apt to put me off as well. So I hope you will understand that I am bound to be more nervous than I usually am.

  Best love to you […]

  Your very devoted son

  Bertie

  Family reactions to the speech were mixed. The Duchess’s diary showed that she was pleased and so was the Duke. In a letter of 27 May 1925 to the Prince of Wales, who was abroad, the Duke himself wrote: ‘At Wembley the opening of the B.E.E. went off very well, & thank God my speech was a success. In fact I thought it easily the best I have ever done. And in front of Papa too. I was only nervous in the legs & not in my mouth or throat. It was an ordeal but I came out of it all right. I spent several sleepless nights before it though as you may imagine. Papa seemed pleased which was kind of him.’*

  King George V may in fact have been less enthusiastic. In a letter to Prince George (future Duke of Kent) dated 10 May 1925 he wrote: ‘Bertie got through his speech all right, but there were some rather long pauses.’†

  10 September 1925 to the Duke of York

  Carberry Tower

  My Darling

  Your letter arrived this morning, and I simply loved getting it. The posts are very queer here, so I don’t know when you will get this.

  Bertie, at this moment the gramophone is playing into my ear, Andrew is talking to me, & Jean is reading aloud, so I really don’t know if this will read sense! I am so glad your Aberdeen thing went off alright – my flower show only took an hour, fighting my way round through silly hysterical old ladies, so that wasn’t too bad. […]

  May is really much better and is able to do quite a lot. Today we are going to lunch with Arthur Balfour‡ which bores me very much, as I really don’t care for going to see people in the country, do you?

  I am feeling much better now, tho’ the sight of wine simply turns me up! Isn’t it extraordinary? It will be a tragedy if I never recover my drinking powers.§ […]
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  I hope that the atmosphere at Balmoral is good. Tell Lord Esher* that I am sorry to miss him! He is rather horrid, but rather amusing too.

  I miss you frightfully, and am looking forward so so much to next week. Only to seeing you tho’, nothing to do with Balmoral! It must be dreadfully cold up there – don’t catch a cold darling.

  Do write again, I love to get a letter from you, bless you darling, and stick up for yourself, remember that you are an elderly married man, & don’t let anyone patronise you. […]

  So long sweet, your very very loving Bertie bother! I mean Elizabeth

  28 October 1925 to Queen Mary

  White Lodge

  My Darling Mama

  I was very disappointed at being unable to come to Sandringham last Saturday, and I stayed here quietly and rested, which helped the stupid neuralgia a great deal. The long day at Norwich would have been unwise too I feel.

  I think that Bertie has written & told you of our idea of taking Curzon House for the next few months? It is rather an attractive old house, and we can all squeeze in, which will make things much more convenient. I am sure you will think this a good idea, as after October it gets very foggy and lonely in the Park here.