In early May Cimmie was rushed into hospital with a burst appendix. Mosley apparently displayed his concern by visiting her in hospital in order to check on the successful outcome of her operation, before going for lunch at the Eatonry with Diana and Unity. But, ‘Next day, Lady Cynthia developed peritonitis and her condition worsened.’32
The doctors’ opinion was that if she fought hard, she might win through, but on ‘15 May she died at the age of 33, “without”, her surgeon announced, “both mentally or physically ever lifting a finger to live”’33. It then came to be known that Mosley had walked out after a row before Cimmie was taken ill, and had gone to stay with Diana.
After his wife’s death, Mosley was said to have thrown himself into building up the BUF. Not that he had a lot of spare time for either political development or grieving for his dearly departed wife, since he continued his affairs with Diana and ‘Baba’ Metcalfe, wife of the consenting ‘Fruity’ Metcalfe and his late wife’s younger sister, with whom he went touring in Europe, presumably to assist him in overcoming his grief! So, it must have been a welcome diversion for Diana to receive her invitation from Putzi Hanfstaengl to visit Germany, while rather conveniently Nanny would take the children, one of whom was still only one year old, to the Isle of Wight.
* * *
Following months of refusing to communicate with Diana, it was claimed that her forthcoming divorce and the tragic death of Mosley’s wife had weakened the Redesdales’ opposition and a conciliatory meeting with their daughter was arranged in the country. There, Diana spent most of the weekend sitting in the garden with Unity, talking about Mosley and the BUF and how quickly she could become a member.
Considering how keen the party should have been to recruit new members, particularly those of Unity’s newsworthiness, it was difficult to believe that there really was the necessity to make such a song and dance about it, unless of course the rank and file, who had been so desperately fond of Cimmie, felt that Diana could be by some degree held responsible for her death and in their eyes one Mitford was no better than another. This does in fact appear to have been the case, and to avoid any confrontations Mosley tried to keep Unity happy by personally awarding her membership.
While Mosley was attempting to limit the minor fallout from his appallingly selfish behaviour, Bryan Guinness was being subjected to the public embarrassment of a divorce in which he had to pretend to be the guilty party by spending the night at a seedy Brighton hotel with a young lady who was paid to pretend to have sex with the gentleman concerned, while one of the hotel’s chambermaids was ‘rewarded’ for confirming that they had. When, of course, they hadn’t.
Meanwhile, Diana gained her decree nisi and was said to have claimed minimal alimony. This apparently amounted to a ‘mere’ £2,500 a year but it was still sufficient to afford her the services of two or three servants, elegant clothes and a car, unaffected by time or future marital status; unless of course, such things were considered ‘expenses’ and thus an additional cost to Bryan’s estate. There would also have been generous trusts put in place for the children and their education.
Due to the fact that divorce was considered a disgrace, regardless whose fault it was but particularly for the woman involved, Diana was largely cut off from the grander side of society, particularly the older generation by whom she was now considered to be undesirable. ‘Quite apart from their hatred of divorce, there was an intense disapproval of her behaviour; pity and sympathy for their contemporaries the Redesdales and shock that anyone should abandon a marriage [especially one that included such vast wealth] quite so quickly and for quite such a “shop-soiled” Lothario.’ However, the divorce had remarkably little effect on the ‘legion’ of friends of her own age, who ‘remained steadfast’34.
Mosley unofficially awarded Unity membership of the British Union of Fascists by the simple expedient of arriving at Diana’s on 14 June 1933, greeting Unity with ‘his customary straight-from-the-shoulder salute’ and the words ‘Hallo Fascist,’35 before removing a party emblem from his coat and presenting it to her. But he also advised her not to wear it when she went to HQ to officially enrol; a warning which Unity predictably ignored.
As Pryce-Jones describes it, much to her dismay she was refused membership, not only for ‘flaunting a high party emblem’, but also for being ‘so disregarding of the Leader’s instructions, so damaging his interests …’
‘Complete misery, utter despair … the future of the fascist party, of the Leader himself, seemed in jeopardy.’ Unity was distraught. “‘I was so excited”, that dream of the future, crumbled to ruins.’ It is difficult to believe that they made it so difficult, and a total contradiction in terms. In a fascist party, the leader should of course be capable of overruling everyone. Probably, as with all English clubs, there would have been a membership committee, who would have become extremely grumpy were they to discover that they had been circumvented, even by the leader! Unity successfully persevered and eventually managed to enrol at the Oxford HQ, but it was hardly surprising that she would come to prefer Hitler’s German fascism, where she was welcomed with open arms, at least by their leader, who had little time for committees.
* * *
Pryce-Jones wrote that around this time Unity and Diana started going to the Women’s League of Health and Beauty together, in Great Portland Place, at least twice a week. The league was apparently remarkably similar to the Werk, Glaube und Schönheit organisation in Nazi Germany, which used exercise routines based on the German Sachsengruss (Saxon Greeting) movement. The two sisters would then return to Eaton Square, where they would often spend the night with Mosley.
By now the Redesdales had grown to accept their daughters’ relationship with Mosley, and had even been drawn into the movement themselves. ‘Mosley was hoping to proselytise personally among the rich and grand, trusting in the autumn rallies to cater to the masses.’36
‘A dead set was made at such eminent men as Lord Nuffield and Lord Rothermere.’ Small dinners and gatherings were organised to recruit suitable members.37 ‘One such meeting was held at the house of Sir Oswald’s mother in Eaton Square. Unity took along Mary Ormsby-Gore and Anthony Rumbold.’38
‘Sir Anthony Rumbold’s father was ambassador in Berlin from 1928 to 1933, and his despatches had spelled out the Nazi menace more unambiguously than the Foreign Office liked.’39 The young Anthony, in response to Unity and Jessica’s demands to know if he was a fascist or a communist, replied, ‘Neither, I’m a democrat.’ ‘How wet!’ they brayed in unison. But that did not prevent him from accepting their invitation to a BUF rally at the Albert Hall, where Mosley was to hold forth. “‘The Leader’s going to make a speech”, they said, “Do come.”40’
According to David Pryce-Jones, ‘The mass meetings attracted conservative-minded people as well as the temperamentally discontented, while in the person of Lord Rothermere, the party had a press lord and his papers at their service for a while, which could well have been crucial.’
* * *
Diana’s separation from Bryan was causing huge social and family tensions, but supported by a more than adequate allowance, she appeared quite prepared ‘to sacrifice her social position’. She was more concerned by her brother Tom’s disapproval than her parents’ alienation, manifest in their refusal to allow her younger sisters, Jessica and Deborah, visiting rights. Only Nancy supported Diana’s choice; probably to delight in the annoyance it caused.
Meanwhile Unity, largely free of parental supervision, was able to call on her sister whenever she liked. There she met Mosley again. This time she was encouraged to appreciate his politics rather than his sexuality; with equal success. Having been raised as a fascist, the only puzzle to Unity was why all people like her were not fascists. Which many of her family and friends indeed were.
For Diana, who at the time was cut off from most of her family, Unity’s enthusiastic support was immensely reassuring. But while the two sisters had been seduced both sexually and politically by
Mosley, they were all too aware that he and his fascist party paled into insignificance compared with the German original. But before they could get to Germany to experience the real thing, a real Nazi arrived in London.
Dr Ernst Hanfstaengl, known to his friends as Putzi, was one of Hitler’s earliest supporters. A huge, square-jawed, good-humoured Bavarian, who was Harvard educated and a gifted pianist, Hanfstaengl introduced Hitler to Munich society and assisted him in polishing his image. There were those amongst the top echelons of the party, Goebbels in particular, who were jealous of his relationship with the Führer, referring to him as Hitler’s ‘court jester’. Much to Hitler’s amusement he responded by referring to Goebbels as the ‘little Rigoletto’. Goebbels was not the first to be mislead by Putzi’s somewhat ‘agricultural’ physical appearance, which was at odds with his sharp intellect and middle-class background.
Putzi also enjoyed a degree of wealth from his family’s Munich-based art gallery and publishing business, while their New York branch enabled him to raise invaluable American dollars during the period of Germany’s hyperinflation. These comparatively small contributions kept the fledgling Nazi movement alive during the crises and even financed the purchase of a newspaper. It had also been Putzi who sheltered Hitler at his house in Uffing, near Munich, after the failure of his 1923 putsch. ‘After Hitler’s arrest he continued to support him throughout the two years of imprisonment that followed, during which Hitler wrote Mein Kampf.’41
When Hitler came to power it was Putzi, armed with his many influential English and American friends and a fluent grasp of their language, whom Hitler chose to place in charge of his party’s foreign press bureau. His objective was to counter the horrifying revelations concerning the Reich that were beginning to appear in the international press. On his return to Harvard, Putzi was met with considerable aggression from Jewish and anti-Nazi student groups, while his financial contribution to the university’s funds was refused. No such protests took place when he visited London in the spring of 1933 with his friend, William Randolph Hearst. ‘I was on good terms with the Guinnesses and met Unity through them in London.’42
This, then, was the curious man whom Diana found at the house of Mrs Richard Guinness, wife of a distant cousin of Bryan’s … he issued a challenge: those present should come to Germany and see for themselves what lies the newspapers were telling. To Diana, in particular, he made an offer that, if she came, he would introduce her to Hitler. Diana made up her mind to go; and go she did, in the summer, to Munich. As they now shared political ambitions and had become ‘thick as thieves’ she took Unity with her.
It was an invitation that would subsequently prove life threatening for Putzi. One also had to question what he thought he had to prove to two committed fascist anti-Semites.
The Mitford girls claimed to have gone as ‘ordinary’ visitors, which of course they were not and would not have been considered as such, under any circumstances. First, they apparently took to ‘sightseeing round Bavaria with Nigel Birch and Lord Hinchingbrooke’43, who presumably were also fascists or potential fascist sympathisers, with whom they chose not to have seen any signs of distress, nor obvious fear amongst the German people. Eventually they made contact with Putzi, though the meeting with Hitler failed to materialise. However, Putzi did take them to the theatrical Nuremberg Party Congress, also in Bavaria, which in 1933 was renamed the Party Day of Victory, though it was in fact a four-day celebration of the Nazis’ accession to power with its choreographed cast of thousands. There they could both see and hear the effect the Führer had on his hysterical German public.
The 1933 rally began on 31 August, 400,000 party members having been collected by special trains. The SA, the SS and the Hitler Youth were all represented. One thousand chosen guests, including ‘The Mitford Girls’ (they did not all have to be present to be headlined as such), filled the main grandstand.
Diana was ecstatic. ‘A feeling of excited triumph was in the air, and when Hitler appeared an almost electric shock passed through the multitude … there were almost no foreigners; later on the diplomats and assorted guests came, but not in 1933. By a strange chance, Unity … and I witnessed this demonstration of hope in a nation that had known collective despair.’
Unity was no less enraptured. ‘The first moment I saw him I knew there was no one I would rather meet.’ It was typical of the Mitfords’ – and particularly Sydney’s – already skilful use of the press that this remark would appear in the pages of London’s Evening Standard so soon after the event; a forewarning of a story that was going to fascinate the media for the next seventy-five years and beyond.
Diana and Unity weren’t the only visitors to be so impressed. Many young Englishmen visiting Germany at that time were equally enthralled and moved to support Hitler’s regime, though later, when it became socially and politically unacceptable, some, lacking the courage of their convictions, changed their minds and thereafter claimed to despise the Nazi movement. Nigel Nicholson was one such previously avid supporter, as was The Times correspondent, Michael Burn.
The official Nazi congress brochure published a photograph of the English delegation, with Unity in a tweed suit and black shirt, her gauntleted hand in salute. Almost next to her was William Joyce, who later wrote:
In 1933, I joined Sir Oswald Mosley’s new movement, the BUF. I became one of the leading political speakers and writers of that movement; for three years I was Mosley’s propaganda chief. These were marvellous times and I shall never forget them. I used all my influence in the movement to give the party a strongly anti-Semitic direction – and I may say that I succeeded in that direction.
Jonathan Guinness seemed to think that in comparison to the intensity of the girls’ experience at the party congress, it would have seemed ‘pedantic’ to worry about ‘the tribulations of a few Jews’. Certainly, he was correct in doubting whether either Diana or Unity ‘gave them a thought’, while the girls came to regard stories of Nazi atrocities against any member of the human race as either unimportant and exceptional episodes or as downright lies. Later, it also became ‘fashionable’ amongst the right-wing middle and upper classes to justify the Holocaust by saying that ‘Joe Stalin did far worse’ and that ‘he had admitted as much to Churchill’. Unity went one step further by developing an oft-voiced enthusiasm for ethnic cleansing, particularly in the case of Jews who she, in agreement with the Nazis, considered ‘sub-human’.
Once the rally was over, the English delegation went home and Diana went to Rome, while Unity, in no doubt where her destiny lay, travelled the short distance to Munich, to discuss plans with Baroness Laroche for enrolment in her finishing school in the spring of the following year.
The Mitfords subsequently insisted that when David and Sydney found out that Diana had taken Unity to the Nuremberg Parteitag (party rally), they were furious. Judging from their political beliefs and enthusiasm for Hitler and the Nazis, this seems highly improbable.
In the autumn of 1933, Sydney had arranged for Jessica and her cousin, Idden, to spend the customary year at a Swiss, French or German finishing school. In this case she chose Paris. There they could brush up their French and hopefully develop at least a degree of sophistication before undertaking their ‘coming-out’ year back in London.
Unity had refused to attend such a school and her mother, in full knowledge that it would have been a total waste of money, made no attempt to force her. But in 1934, having unsuccessfully completed her social season, she wanted to go to Germany; not to be finished, but to learn to speak German, so that she would be prepared for her planned meeting with Adolf Hitler.
Given their own fascist sympathies, persuading the Redesdales to agree probably took a great deal less effort than has been claimed. Minimal organisation was needed as Unity had already enrolled at Baroness Laroche’s establishment at 121 Königinstrasse in Munich. Apparently, Mary St Clair-Erskine, sister of Hamish, and other English girls of ‘the right sort’ from families known to Sydney, h
ad also attended the Baroness’ school, which would have reassured her. The letter that Lord Redesdale was said to have written to Diana after her visit to Nuremberg with Unity thus seemed contradictory to Sydney’s decision:
I suppose you know without being told how absolutely horrified Muv and I were to think of you and Bobo accepting any form of hospitality from people we regard as a murderous gang of pests. That you should associate yourself with such people is a source of utter misery to both of us – but of course, beyond telling you this (which you already know) we can do nothing. What we can do, and what we intend to do, is to try and keep Bobo out of it all.
Whenever, and by whom, this letter was written cannot alter the fact that the Lord and Lady Redesdale financed Unity’s six-year Munich ‘campaign’, which included her relationship with Hitler and the Nazis, without any other surviving indication of protest. Indeed, David and Sydney Redesdale would still be visiting the same ‘murderous gang of pests’ at the Nuremberg Party Rally in 1938! Both Kathleen Atkins and Baroness Gaby Bentinck were led to believe, by Unity, that Sydney had even had ambitions of a marriage between her daughter and the Führer. It would certainly have justified their major investment in her courtship.
* * *
Despite Nancy’s independent spirit, she was nearly 30 years old before she accepted an offer from Diana of a room at the Eatonry and finally left home. There, despite her teasing, she adopted the political beliefs of her sisters. She also formed a ‘suitable’ relationship with Peter Rodd, son of Lord Rennell, which resulted in their engagement and marriage.
The Evening Standard of 19 July wrote, ‘She is 29 and Mr Rodd is 26. Peter Rodd was educated at Wellington and Balliol. He left Wellington at the age of 16, having reached the top of the school.’ He had also worked as a German correspondent for The Times, until he was sacked.
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