The infatuation was stronger on Nancy’s side for Hamish was an overt narcissist, and he must have been flattered by her béguin for him. Nancy’s letters to Hamish have been destroyed but through her intimate correspondence with Mark Ogilvie-Grant we may follow the wavering graph of her emotions. Mark was in Cairo at the time and Hamish was still up at Oxford. While in London he dragged her to the night-clubs and parties frequented by Evelyn Waugh’s characters, leading her a dance in which she was a far from happy partner, though she exaggerated her woes as many of us do in youth. For a girl of twenty five her letters are touchingly ingenuous.
From Redesdale Cottage, Otterburn, she wrote on 30th December, 1929: ‘Here I am as you see banished from Hamish for three weeks. I thought I should die but am bearing up nicely partly because I adore this place and partly because my grandmother is such an angel. Also I am working really hard… [Recently in London] went to the Café de Paris, having borrowed £2 from Evie. Well then we found (when we’d got there) that after paying the bill we had 7½d between us. We were panicking rather when the sallow and disapproving countenance of old Mit [her brother Tom] was observed. He cut Hamish but lent me £1 and we went to the Bat. As we never pay there now we are treated as poor relations and put behind the band where we can neither see nor hear and we have the buttered eggs that the Mountbattens have spat into and left. All so homey and nice don’t you think. Still I feel we lend a certain ton to the place. Hamish has been an angel lately, not drinking a thing. I really think that bar all the good old jokes which no one enjoys more than I do, that he has literally the nicest nature of anyone I know. He gets nicer every day too.’
‘My grandmother is divine about him although she knows and hates all his relations and forbears. A propos of his religion [he was a Catholic] she said, “so long as a person is devout it doesn’t the least matter what his religion is, only I (no doubt wrongly) would never feel quite the same about a very devout Hindu or Buddhist. And of course Low Church people are very holy but they do so treat God like their first cousin.”’
‘I must go to bed. It is dark here all day and I keep looking out for the midday moon, haven’t seen it yet… Have had to alter the book (Highland Fling) quite a lot as it is so like Evelyn’s in little ways, such a bore.’
From Redesdale Cottage again on 8th January, 1930: ‘I’ve been here nearly a fortnight, and apart from missing Hamish dreadfully have enjoyed every minute of it, such beautiful country—I’ve been desperately trying to finish the book, which has improved a lot since you heard parts of it… The sweet angel [Hamish] is always so sensible about everybody but him self isn’t he. Poor Hamish was in a fearful state when his brother-in-law died suddenly because it was the third sudden death in his family this year which I must say is dreadful for them.’…
Later: ‘I’ve got a job offered me to write a weekly article for £3 a week and I keep putting off and putting off but can’t start this evening as I’ve just spent the day in Oxford with you know who and that always stops me working. He’s going to Canada in March for ever, and we’re both so unhappy about it, specially me. Isn’t life perfect hell, that beastly old Harry has found a job for him at £100 a year with a rise of £10 every six months which looks as though he’ll be able to support me and our 5 children jolly soon doesn’t it. However, he’s being such an angel about it that one simply must not put him off and it may be the making of him yet I suppose… You won’t know Hamish again, he’s a reformed character, gets up at 9.30 every morning and has quite given up drink and intends to work like a slave in Canada. I love him much more than ever.’
From Old Mill Cottage, High Wycombe, 1st February, 1930: ‘The children [her sisters] have a hen called Mongrel Child, but when they are feeling pleased with it Golden Eagle. They also have one called Double She because it lays double yolked eggs. I fear these farmyard details are likely to bore.’
‘Lunched with Hamish on Thursday and arriving at one o’clock found him in pyjamas having breakfast so I hounded him into his bedroom and finished up his grapefruit and coffee. He has no money until the end of the term and daren’t run into debt again. I must say he’s being an angel about it and we gnaw chicken bones for lunch now instead of oysters… Hamish is going to ride in a grind on Saturday, simply awful for me but I’m behaving like a mem sahib about it and pretend to be pleased…’
19th February, 1930: ‘Thank Heaven Canada is off for the moment. I really think it would have killed me… Will Hamish ever grow out of liking all these painted dolls I wonder, and will our house overflow with them always? I’ve just finished Maurois’ Byron, very readable. Byron is so like Hamish in character, the other day Hamish said to me in tones of deepest satisfaction, “You haven’t known a single happy moment since we met have you.” Very true as a matter of fact, what he would really like would be for me to die and a few others and then he’d be able to say “I bring death on all who love me”. It’s so sad, when you’re away there’s nobody I can laugh about Hamish with and he is such a joke isn’t he?’
‘… Did I tell you I have got a job of writing weekly articles for The Lady at about £260 a year (they haven’t quite settled my wages yet). It is rather fun to do but a bit of a strain every week to think of subjects. My book has gone to the agents whose verdict I await in a state of palpitation. I’m afraid it won’t be accepted. Everyone thinks it very bad, specially Hamish.’
10th March, 1930: ‘Oh dear how unhappy Hamish does make me sometimes nobody knows except I think you do because you know us both so well. I’m so exactly the wrong person for him really that I simply can’t imagine how it all happened. It’s all most peculiar. But sometimes I really wish I were dead, which is odd for me as I have a cheerful disposition by nature. I’m sorry to grumble like this. I really do honestly think everything would be all right if we were married, it’s partly living down here that makes me so depressed and miserable.’
‘My book has been accepted by the agents which is a cheering thought. I don’t know how much that means but I suppose they don’t take something that’s absolutely unmarketable… What do you really think of Vile Bodies? I was frankly very much dis appointed in it I must say but some people think it quite marvellous.’
‘I met M. Boulestin the other day such a little dear and he says he’s going to start a restaurant in Oxford. So I told John [Sutro] and John was furious and I couldn’t make out why and at last he said “Oh to think there was nothing like that when I was at Oxford!” Poor sweet I so understand that point of view. He and Christopher [Sykes] are so silly together I couldn’t stop laughing. P.S. That awful grumble doesn’t mean anything except that I’m in a very bad temper so don’t take the smallest notice of it please.’
From 4 Rutland Gate Mews, 30th March, 1930: ‘I’m making such a lot of money with articles—£22 since Christmas and more owing to me so I’m saving it up to be married but Evelyn [Waugh] says don’t save it, dress better and catch a better man. Evelyn is always so full of sound common sense. The family have read Vile Bodies and I’m not allowed to know him, so right I think…’
From Old Mill Cottage, 31st March: ‘How can one ever tell with Hamish? I think he is really devoted to me, anyhow as much as he ever was but I don’t believe it’s in his nature to be passionately in love with anybody… Tomorrow we go to London for two months. As a list of those forbidden the house now includes all my best friends I foresee more tiring rows with the family… However I am now making £4.4. a week by writing articles and hope I may soon become self-supporting. I regard financial independence as almost the sum of human happiness don’t you?’
From 26 Rutland Gate, 11th April: ‘Here I am in London again feeling much more cheerful and happy about everything. The Lady people have now definitely taken me on at £5.5. a week to write a sort of running commentary of current events, starting with the all England croquet championship at Brighton. They are sending me to everything free, the Opera, the Shakespeare festival at Stratford, etc. I think I shall get lots of fun out of it al
l don’t you.’
‘So to celebrate this I went out today and bought myself a divine coral tiara—the family think I’ve gone mad. I do love spending much more than I can afford on myself don’t you—something quite useless too.’
‘Hamish is in the country which is sad as I’m not allowed down there… Henry [Yorke] says Robert [Byron] will go through London like a flail putting everything to rights again…’
17th April: ‘Once more you must assume the ungrateful role of confidante for which I can only hope that your reward will be a heavenly crown because I fail to see how any earthly benefit can be your share.’
‘More to-do’s of course need I say in the Hamish affair. Oh Mark, talk about getting to know each other or knowing one’s own mind—if I had been married to Hamish for five painful years and borne him six male children I couldn’t know him better and the curious thing is that I’m quite certain that I shall never never be so fond of anyone again. All this as I am on the point of losing him for I don’t see how he can fail to break off our engagement after what I’ve done.’
‘I had a perfectly heartbroken letter from Lady Rosslyn [Hamish’s mother]… saying Hamish is going to the bad as fast as he can, can’t you advise me what can be done? So in a white heat I took my pen and said “The bottom of all this is Oxford. Hamish at Oxford doesn’t lead one single day of ordinary normal life—these parties which are incessant will ruin him, etc, etc, can’t he be taken away now and given some job—if this were done I would give my word not to marry him” and so on… However I can’t and won’t plot with Hamish’s parents behind his back so wrote at once and told him all. Mark he’ll never forgive me if this results in his leaving Oxford…’
‘Then by this evening’s post a screed from Hamish saying everybody nags him the whole time and that Farve has written again to Lord Rosslyn complaining we see each other too much. Oh my life is difficult trying to manage Hamish and the family. And what will he say when he hears this I can’t bear to think of it—and rightly because what business is it of mine to find fault with his character, much more for him to complain of mine really considering our relationship. But if anybody was ever worth a struggle it is Hamish because you know underneath that ghastly exterior of Rosslyn charm etc he is pure gold at least I think so, in fact I’d bank everything on it but what chance has he [with such ineffective parents]… Sometimes I think it is too much for me or anybody else. Only I believe that I’m something quite solid in his life, which is the only comforting reflection.’
From Old Mill Cottage, 17th November: ‘My life recently has been one huge whirl of gaiety and I’ve had no time even to think let alone write letters. But next week promises to be quieter and I’ll write you my usual five volumes then… a ball at Blenheim the other night… it was grand fun. I motored from London in an open Rolls in my ball dress, the misery of it. Edward James motored me back in his car which becomes a bed at will…’
From 4 Rutland Gate Mews, l0th December: ‘awful the way everyone treats me as Hamish’s nanny isn’t it? I believe he’s been sent down from Oxford, at least everyone I see tells me so but perhaps it is only a merry joke. Personally I shan’t mind if he is, I find Oxford very dull now.’
‘I’ve got out of going to Switzerland thank heavens, it is a blessed relief to feel that I’ve escaped those snow-capped peaks. Like my hairdresser, when I said why do you hate Switzerland, “Ah les montagnes”, was all he could say in a sort of groan. I so agree don’t you—I think natural scenery is THE END.’
27th December: ‘Hamish and I… have had a complete reconciliation, everything is now as merry as a marriage bell. He has left Oxford and is looking for a job, to my relief as I hated his beastly little room there.’
4th February, 1931: ‘Hamish’s family, behaving with their usual caddery, have taken him away for ever to America. I’ve broken off the engagement. So there you have the situation in a nutshell.’
‘I tried to commit suicide by gas, it is a lovely sensation just like taking anaesthetic so I shan’t be sorry any more for school mistresses who are found dead in that way, but just in the middle I thought that Romie [Drury-Lowe] who I was staying with might have a miscarriage which would be disappointing for her so I got back to bed and was sick. Then next day I thought it would be silly because we love each other so much everything will probably be all right in the end…’
‘I’ve made friends with a sweet and divine old tart called Madame de P.—she rang a young man up the other day at 11 a.m. and said, “What a dull night it’s been let’s do some thing.” She is nice and has lovely parties and adores Hamish who confides in her and then she tells it all to me which is lucky because it is things I like hearing. But I am really very unhappy because there is no one to tell the funny things that happen to one and that is half the fun in life don’t you agree… I’m in the state in which I can’t be alone but the moment I’m with other people I want to get away from them… How can I possibly write a funny book in the next six months which my publisher says I must do. How can I when I’ve got practically a pain from being miserable and cry in buses quite continually? I’m sorry to inflict this dreary letter on you, as a matter of fact everyone here thinks I don’t mind at all—rather a strain but I think the only attitude don’t you agree.’
From 34 Great Cumberland Place, 28th February: ‘It is too awful for me because Hamish, instead of staying a few months in America as he was to have done is returning next week. It will be ghastly seeing him everywhere. Also I think he’ll try and make it up again which I’m determined not to do at present. So everything is very complicated. I had a long letter from him written before he got mine breaking it off, he seems to be enjoying himself… Highland Fling comes out on the 12th…’
From Old Mill Cottage, 15th March: ‘Hamish has come back and it is all too frightful, we met at a party and of course it all began over again. Heaven knows what will happen in the end, he seems at present to be busy drinking himself to death saying “my bulwarks (that’s me) have gone”. We aren’t seeing each other at all. I suppose it will have to be the gas oven in the end, one can’t bear more than a certain amount of unhappiness.’
‘The book is doing well I’m glad to say, has had very good notices already… Everyone thinks your cover too good, a dreadful man said to me, “I must buy your book, it has such an amusing cover.”… I’ve just spilt a mass of ink on Muv’s favourite carpet and am sitting with my foot on the place hoping she won’t notice. She will soon of course. Oh dear.
‘They have been simply too odious lately, and had a fearful row the other day ending up by accusing me of drinking. I must say I do go to awful sorts of parties so I’m not surprised they are in a state, but if one can’t be happy one must be amused don’t you agree. Besides I always have John [Sutro] to chaperone me. I must go and take the dogs for a walk. P.S. The gas story is quite true, it makes Robert [Byron] laugh so much.’
28th March, 1931: ‘If I can pass the tests etc I have been engaged to act in a film in Kashmir, leaving London for three months at the end of May… I expect I shall be longing to see a human face by then, as my co-actors, the ones I’ve seen are hardly exciting to say the least of it. But it will take me away from London for three months and that’s all I care about obviously I shall either die of some unsavoury disease or be raped away into Mr A’s harem—preferably of course the latter. For this I get £150 the day I sail, 1st class return tickets and a share in the profits if any of the film, besides a good chance of becoming the English Garbo. Anyway material for at least three novels. All this of course depends on whether I can pass the necessary tests which I try for at Elstree after Easter. Oh I do hope I shall.’
‘I’m through with Hamish for good, he has the grace to appear thoroughly miserable and depressed and sits at parties (I’m told) gazing sadly into space. I meanwhile have settled down into sound spinsterhood. It is sad as we were so completely suited to each other. Highland Fling went into a second impression last week and sells a steady 50 a da
y which I’m told is definitely good for a first novel.’
‘I can’t tell you how much I long to go but alas am very doubtful about the tests. I’ve never done any acting at all you see. It will be quite an exciting part, riding about over rocky passes etc. Diana holds out small hopes of me ever returning alive and I think she may be right. Robert’s [Byron’s] parting present is to be a small phial of poison for when I’m about to be tortured by enraged Tibetans, and John’s [Sutro’s] of course, a pot of caviar. The family, which seems odd, don’t mind at all and are rather intrigued by the idea, as for me I can hardly sit still for excitement but oh the tests are a fearful snag. It is to be in sound and colour and opens with Tibetan music whatever that may be.’
From 105 Gloucester Place, 15th May, 1931: ‘I’m having a perfectly divine time, it is certainly more fun not being en gaged… Also I’m so rich from all my writings that I can have some really divine clothes at last. Hamish is being a very good boy and really looking for a job and seriously intends to work so everything is honey. It drives me nearly insane when he gets these bouts of drinking etc but I really do believe he’s settling down at last the angel…’
‘I’ve just got £30.30. from Harpers for a tiny short story, isn’t it heaven. I’m so rich I go 1st class everywhere and take taxis, and even refused £10 a week to write gossip for The Tatler. London is heaven just now, the Ritz before lunch is a party where you see everybody you’ve ever known and there are no deb dances because people are too poor to give them. In fact a perfect season. I’m very comfy here with two rooms and a latch key and meals when I want them for all of which I pay £2.10. a week. The family are safely at Swinbrook and unable in any way to make a nuisance of themselves. In fact I haven’t been in such spirits for years…’
Nancy Mitford Page 5
