Letters Between Sisters: the Mitford Girls and the Art of Correspondence
In which I finally come clean about my rather worrying obsession with a complicated family of British aristocrats.
I had letters from you & the Lady (Nancy) & Henderson (Jessica)1 today, wouldn’t it be dread if one had a) no sisters b) sisters who didn’t write.
Deborah to Diana, 21 July 1965
Have I ever referenced my obsession with the Mitford Sisters in this newsletter? I think that savvy readers might pick up on it from the title — Are You Shrieking? is lifted from the frothy, sharp-tongued correspondence of the sisters as a favorite way to say Can you believe it?! after some hilarious anecdote was shared. I’ve titled the newsletter in their honor, but I don’t think I have ever dedicated an edition to them — I suppose it’s high time.
Much has been written about the six — I’ll include a reading list at the end of the post — and I won’t go over well-trod ground. Here is what you need to know: they were the aristocratic daughters of Lord and Lady Redesdale, raised in the English countryside by their eccentric parents. Nancy was a famous novelist and writer, Pamela was a horse-woman and lover of rural pursuits, Diana was a beauty of the Bright Young People who went on to become a committed fascist and married to the leader of the British Union of Fascists, Unity was a Hitler obsessed racist who tried to commit suicide when Britain declared war on Germany, Jessica was a communist and civil-rights activist who fled to America at her first chance, and Deborah tried to keep above it all and became a Duchess and mistress of Chatsworth.2 The six were so wildly different, so completely individualistic, that you might assume that they would grow up and move on from each other—but it is their love for one another, their continued correspondence, and their connections to anyone who was anyone in the 20th century that continues to captivate historians and the public.
P.S. I saw the Windsors [The Duke and Duchess of Windsor] — he a balloon, she like the skeleton of some tiny bird, hopping in her hobble skirt. (Oh the tight skirts — oh the misery. I still think they won’t really take on here & that they are purely American, but I suppose after 6 years of the others there’s bound to be a change.) They both look ravaged with misery — & said to the Col [Colonel Gaston Palewski, Nancy’s great unrequited love] ‘you ought to marry, look at us.’
(excerpt from Nancy to Diana, 15 June 1946)
I made the above Reel for Instagram a few years ago showing off my Mitford book collection…it’s probably grown a bit since then!
I don’t know when my obsession with the Mitford Family began, but I know it began early. I’ve amassed quite the collection of books centered around the family, and have followed so many rabbit trails from each sister — a large portion of my personal library can be traced back to each one. Each of the sisters maintained a robust letter-writing correspondence throughout their lives, both with each other and with friends, acquaintances, and family. There are several volumes of published letters related to the sisters, and they are so incredibly fun to read — the books are heavy with footnotes to explain the numerous nicknames, inside jokes, and made-up languages the sisters continued from childhood. The two that I love to return to over and over again were edited by Charlotte Mosely, the niece-by-marriage of Diana. She was able to access the family archives and memories in ways that an outsider might not. The results are dense with what feels like the best gossip.
The latest coup de Louise de V[ilmorin] is rather funny. She began to smother Barbara Hutton with presents, canchia trees, truffles, valuable-looking bibelots, & so on, invited her to Verrières & made her read out her (B.H.'s) poems. Nobody has ever thought of this approach before & the net result is said to be 5 millions so far. La Silvia [Barbara Hutton’s childhood friend who had benefited from her generosity] very nervous & Jean [decorator and friend of Diana & Nancy, who also received financial support from Barbara], we hear, NOT PLEASED. Are you shrieking?
I go to Mews on Sunday - ay di me I'm so happy in this jungle do hate to move.
All love N
[excerpt from Nancy to Diana, 28 November 1956]
Diana to Nancy
25 December 1932
Darling Naunce
The detectives are extraordinary and just like one would imagine. [Diana’s father-in-law, Lord Moyne, had hired private investigators to gather evidence that could be used in a divorce hearing with her first husband, Bryan Guinness.]
It is really rather heavenly to feel that they are around - no pickpockets can approach etc. Isn't it all extremely amusing in a way. I mean there is such a great army of them and it is all so expensive for Lord Moyne (may he burn in hell).
I have shirked the Grosvenor Place party because I was advised it would be better not to go. They ALL cried when I wouldn't & I gave as an excuse ‘Grosvenor Place is such a big house to surround so thought it more friendly to save half a dozen men & stay at home.’
Darling you are my one ally. But it is vastly lying to suggest you encouraged my sot [foolish] behaviour; you always said it would end in TEARS.
Do come here soon. I am not hurrying to leave because if Bryan leaves ME the onus is on HIM and so he will.
All love darling, Diana
I can’t help mourning the loss of this type of written correspondence. As an archivist, I have the privilege of reading collections of letters throughout our wider collection. Round-robin letters of former Manhattan Project WACs that lasted from 1945 through the mid-1990s, love letters between young physicists stationed in the Atolls during the Pacific tests and their sweethearts back home, letters from teenage boy students of the ranch school to their mothers — it’s all such an invaluable resource and documentation of the past. I try not to romanticize it too much — I know that not everyone in the past had, what sociologist Liz Stanley called natural ‘epistolary intent’3 — but it is wonderful to see how the people of the past were able to put thoughts and feelings to paper.
And there is something so special about letters written by and between women. The in-jokes, the terms of endearment, the affection — as John Donne wrote, “more than kisses, letters mingle souls / For thus, friends absent speak.”4 Letter writing allowed women to close distances, share thoughts and emotions that they might hesitate to voice in public, and maintain friendships and relationships. One of the earliest evidence of women writing to each other was found in the Vindolanda tablets — thin wooden tablets with Roman cursive writing that were discovered in the ruins of a fort on Hadrian’s wall dating to the 1st and 2nd century. In amongst the administrative notes and memos of the daily operations of the fort was a tablet written to the wife of the fort commander from her friend, Claudia Severa, who was married to the commander of another nearby fort. In this short epistle, Claudia invites her friend to her birthday party. It is interesting to note that the formal invitation is written in the hand of a scribe, but the last few lines, the ones recording affection and emotion, are in another hand — most likely that of Claudia herself.
Claudia Severa to her Lepidina greetings.
On 11 September, sister, for the day of the celebration of my birthday, I give you a warm invitation to make sure that you come to us, to make the day more enjoyable for me by your arrival, if you are present. Give my greetings to your Cerialis. My Aelius and my little son send their greetings.
I shall expect you, sister. Farewell, sister, my dearest soul, as I hope to prosper, and hail.
That last sentiment (which I’ve placed in bold) is the second handwriting that is thought to be Claudia Severa. Scholars also think that Claudia was a learned woman, who had at least read Virgil’s Aeneid, because of her use of a form of the term unanimam sororem5, which Virgil used to describe the relationship between Anna and Dido. It translates to sister sharing a soul.
Soul-sharing sisters might be used to describe the close relationships between the Mitford sisters, although their closeness was tempered with estrangement, fraught periods, and rivalries. As close as they were, they also found much to argue about and find offense. At the core of this were the political and social views of the two most controversial of the sisters, Diana and Unity. Both were avowed and unrepentant fascists and antisemites. Unity, always in the beautiful Diana’s shadow, took her obsession with the Nazis to another level and stalked Hitler until she found entrance into his inner circle. Diana married Oswald Mosley in a small ceremony in the apartment of the Goebbels, with Hitler present. Those who knew Diana believed that her views did not begin with her husband — many thought that she was even more of a fascist than he was. Her views estranged her from Jessica, who married a Jewish-American man — the two didn’t see or speak to each other for decades, finally seeing each other once for half an hour as Nancy lay on her deathbed.
Nancy and Diana were close — many of the letters in the published collections are between the two — but there was also tension. Despite the gushing letters between them, full of affection and camaraderie, Diana discovered after Nancy’s death that her sister had been the informant to MI5 that had caused Diana’s imprisonment during the war.
She is a ruthless and shrewd egotist, a devoted fascist admirer of Hitler and sincerely desires the downfall of England and democracy generally.
excerpt from Nancy Mitford’s report to MI5 on her sister, Diana Mosely
Writing to her close friend Mark Ogilvy-Grant in 1940, Nancy makes her feelings known:
I am thankful Sir Oswald Quisling has been jugged aren’t you but I think it quite useless if Lady Q is still at large…6
Knowing this when reading the published letters, the following letter, written by Nancy after Diana’s imprisonment, it is impossible not to see a difference between her earlier, more effusive letters:
7 January 1941 (passed by the prison censor 1/9/41)
Darling Diana
I had no idea I was allowed to write — as I now hasten to do — & thank you for your kind present. I have bought myself some much needed facial condiments with it & and am most grateful — actually managed to find a Guerlain lipstick in an obscure chemist’s shop which must have given me the same sensation a bibliophile would have on coming across a 1st folio of Shakespeare.
I send the Wid7 a box of soap called Modestes Violettes & she wrote back ‘Coming downstairs in a rather specially sad mood…”
No wonder she is rather specially sad, freezing at Maugersbury & Aunt Weenie won’t pick the war over with her — ‘I said I hear that Holland House has quite gone & she said come on let’s have luncheon, much more interesting.” Can’t you see it.
I saw your little Alexander the other day he is a darling how I wish they were living with me — I had almost forgotten what heaven Nanny is.
Much love from Nance
The correspondence during Diana’s time in prison is stilted and without the usual camaraderie, though once she is released the sisters return to their pre-war levels of enthusiasm and affection. Diana would be unaware of Nancy’s actions until years after Nancy had died. It’s striking, being a reader and outsider, knowing what you do. But isn’t that the lot of us eavesdroppers?
Reading through the letters is a fascinating account of complicated family dynamics involving complicated people, the ability to love despite vast differences, and how extremism can sever relationships forever. I think what I find most fascinating about the Mitfords is the ebb and flow of their relationships, the very real and very human ways in which they navigate love and familial ties. To read their correspondence is to witness this as it happens, though always with the knowledge that there is no way to fill in the gaps between letters. There are always things unsaid.
A Mitford Reading List:
The Mitfords: Letters Between Six Sisters, edited by Charlotte Mosely
Love From Nancy: The Letters of Nancy Mitford, edited by Charlotte Mosely
The Letters of Nancy Mitford and Evelyn Waugh, edited by Charlotte Mosely
The Sisters: The Saga of the Mitford Family, by Mary S. Lovell
The Six: The Lives of the Mitford Sisters, by Laura Thompson
In Tearing Haste: Letters Between Deborah Devonshire and Patrick Leigh Fermor, edited by Charlotte Mosely
Life in a Cold Climate: A Biography of Nancy Mitford, by Laura Thompson
The Horror of Love: Nancy Mitford and Gaston Palewski in Paris and London, by Lisa Hilton
The Bookshop at 10 Curzon Street: Letters Between Nancy Mitford and Heywood Hill, edited by John Saumarez Smith
Decca: The Letters of Jessica Mitford, edited by Peter Y. Sussman
Hons and Rebels, by Jessica Mitford
A Fine Old Conflict, by Jessica Mitford
Wait for Me: The Memoirs of Deborah Mitford, Duchess of Devonshire, by Deborah Mitford
A Life of Contrasts: The Autobiography of Diana Mitford,by Diana Mosely
The Mitford Family Album,by Sophia Murphy
The Complete Novels of Nancy Mitford
And this is just an abbreviated list of the many written by or about a Mitford Sister!
(the links include affiliate links)
Here are a few past newsletters that I had a lot of fun researching & writing:
Dorothy Hartley and preserving the past for our future.
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The nicknames! I must do a post on the nicknames.
There was a brother, Tom, who was much loved and doted on by the sisters but who tragically died in action during WWII.
Stanley, L. (2015). The Death of the Letter? Epistolary Intent, Letterness and the Many Ends of Letter-Writing. Cultural Sociology, 9(2), 240-255.
To Sir Henry Wotton, John Donne. https://poets.org/poem/sir-henry-wotton
sperabo te soror
vale soror anima
mea ita valeam
karissima et have
To Mark Ogilvie-Grant, 24 May 1940. (Quisling refers to the Norwegian fascist Vidkun Quisling, a successful Fifth Columnist for the Nazis)
The Wid was the nickname the Mitfords had for their great family friend, Violet Hammersely. They called her The Widow because of her preference for dark, dramatic clothing. The following excerpt is from Diana’s 1985 book, Loved Ones:
When I first knew her she was already a widow, and widow’s weeds became her. To the end of her life she was swathed in black scarves and shawls and veils; in later years not exactly in mourning, because many of her clothes were dark brown, but the whole effect had something more Spanish than French about it. Once when she was slightly annoying my sister Nancy, who used the powder and lipstick universal among our generation, by saying: ‘Painters don’t admire makeup at all,’ Nancy retorted: ‘Oh well Mrs Ham you know it’s all very well for you, but we can’t all look like El Greco’s mistress.’ Mrs Hammersley gave her hollow, unwilling laugh.
This is great and the Donne quote is so touching