Darling Debo......Love Paddy

Darling Debo ... love, Paddy
In 1956 Deborah, Duchess of Devonshire - youngest of the Mitford sisters - invited the writer Patrick Leigh Fermor to visit her in Ireland. It was the beginning of a lively exchange of letters. Here they discuss the Blairs, the Prince of Wales, Princess Margaret and the Queen Mother
10 June 1992, Chatsworth

Darling Paddy,

I went to France for two glorious days with the Prince of Wales last week. A magic carpet, Queen's Flight, no passports, no airport buildings, no nothing tiresome. We started at Vaux, then Courances for the night & a long stare at the green alleys with the tallest oaks going, next day Chartres (where the English Nanny so rightly said it was a bad light for sewing). I can't manage a religious feeling in that crowded dirty building, shuffling Japs by the thousand & that French trick of chairs instead of pews. Give me Swinbrook, or one of those magic Norfolk churches where Billa [Harrod] prays away like mad for the prince.

Much love


Times Archive, 1944: Obituary: Major Lord Hartington
Leading the infantry forward, ahead of the tanks, carrying his cap and saying rather languidly, "Come on, you fellows, buck up!" death came to him instantly

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The letters between friends that span 50 years
Debo

30 July 1992, Mani

Darling Debo,

I still can't get over that awful stuff in The Sunday Times about the marriage of our marvellous Norfolk host(1) . Apart from the impertinence and disloyalty, and almost worse than both, was the sanctimonious, mock-sorrowful tone. I feel terribly sorry for both parties, but I've never even seen her, and the Prince of Wales only at that lovely weekend.

A second cause of vexation was the rotten obituary of Henry Bath in the same wretched paper, underlining what a duffer he was at school and how slovenly dressed, always mistaken for a gardener or something similar. Not a hint of the splendid looks, the originality and fun and the unexpectedness of his conversation. I saw him so seldom in recent years, and nearly always in Clubland, and always with delight, where he looked like a stag among a herd of Belted Angus.

No more, darling Debo, except lots of love from

Paddy

(1) Diana: Her True Story by Andrew Morton, which revealed that the Princess of Wales had been unhappy for most of her married life, was being serialised in The Sunday Times.

10 August 1992, Chatsworth

Darling Paddy,

I know, the papers are more than foul about the good prince. Rights & wrongs in both directions, I expect, but I know nothing, only guess a good deal. He has been so dignified, never one word from him. She is truly a wonder at work, she has a power of healing, King's Evil type, and leaves people weak at the knees but strong in whatever was wrong. I've seen that & it is extraordinary. I don't know her in everyday life but all say she is not easy. So, who knows.

Much love

Debo

6 March 2002,Mani

Darling Debo,

I did love being at Chatsworth. What a shame that Pss Margaret's death broke it up, temporarily. I do hope it re-cohered all right. She had always been v decent to me, and I admired her spirit, which I saw put to the test in Italy. She had come to Rome for a week, and I was somehow involved in a series of outings and parties. The thing was, how to dodge reporters. Judy Montagu had arranged a marvellous ride through wild Etruscan hills, backed up by Natalie Perrone, high-jump champion and MFH of the Rome hunt. We were cantering along quietly and were just about to splash through a brook, when all of a sudden on the other side of it, 100 press photographers, who must have been crouching, suddenly shot up and flashed all together in a rather terrifying way, like a series of broadsides. Horses started rearing etc. A cry of “Come on!” went up and Pss M simply charged on galloping and waving her stick and they scattered like chaff, and we all pelted after her for a mile or two among the trees and the Tuscan tombs, and picnicked quietly in a ruin.

Lots of love,

Paddy

11 April 2002, Chatsworth

Darling Paddy,

We've been in London for Cake's funeral(1). What a poke in the eye for the MEDIA that all those people queued night & day in the freezing wind to see the lying in state. They had to admit...

The funeral itself was one of those incredible performances which can only happen in this country - palace, army, church all at their tiptop best. My poor friend's(2) steely face made us all realise how much he loved her and relied on her.

We were taken up front, as it were, in the Abbey. I think it must have been a mistake, anyway we had a wonderful view of everything. Bang opposite that wretched little Prime Minister & the frightful Cherie. Prescott looks like a bare-knuckle fighter of Sackville Glove fame from the East End. Perhaps he is. I don't know. The King of Spain was the pick of the foreign royal people, followed by a funny little chap I couldn't place who turned out to be the Sultan of Brunei.

Four soldiers carried velvet cushions with her orders, sparkling diamonds galore. Perfectly beautiful and all in slow motion.

Much love to Joan and you from

Debo

(1) The Queen Mother died on 30 March, aged 101.

(2) Prince Charles.

14 August 2003, Dumbleton

Darling Debo,

Many many sympathies about the sad Diana news (1) , though I know it must have been the end of anguish and anxiety as well as sorrow.

The thing that struck me in those obituaries was that the whole thing was completely beyond the writers' grasp. They had never had to tackle such a conundrum before - the flagrant political unorthodoxy, the lack of subterfuge or hypocrisy and the v high style, guts and calm dismissiveness - all these were things the obituarists were quite unable to deal with, however much editors may have egged them on. Also, they were fascinated and, in a way, spellbound by the figure they were writing about - the beauty, the wit, the brains and the civilised bent for literature, the arts, etc. Quite often this made the condemnation ring flat and perfunctory, and, somehow, feeble.

Tons of love, darling Debo, from

Paddy

(1) Diana Mosley died on 11 August, aged 93.

17 or 18 August 2003, Chatsworth

Darling Paddy,

Your letter was extraordinary. The one which hit all nails on head. THEY can't believe in such a person so honest, straightforward & not pushed or pulled by fashion or views or anything else, as original a product of another age with standards which remained with her till she died.

You are the friend to whom all this shone out & you saw how bamboozled the journalists must be when they are surrounded by the very opposite sort of people.

Wit - perhaps not, it always strikes me as the quick & not kind remark. Nancy YES but Diana I think not. She was very very funny but that's slightly different eh.

It is so odd to have lost someone who was always there. The childhood cry of the seventh, straggling to keep up on stubby legs, of WAIT FOR ME, lives with me. She couldn't.

Now for Swinbrook. The much licked pews (1), the unbearable memories of the olden days, the Post Office reached by donkey cart, the two-penny bars & acid drops, the village idiot, the blacksmith's shop, Nanny's fabric gloves clutched in the back of the Daimler just before I was sick. Oh well.

Much love

Debo

(1) Diana Mosley's ashes were buried in the churchyard at Swinbrook; it was here that, as children, DD and her sisters used to lick the pews during services.

May 2004, Mani

Darling Debo,

This is just a loving message of sympathy to you for sudden event. Poor Andrew (1) and POOR YOU! It's no good telephoning because you are besieged by all of us. So for the moment, nothing but fondest commiseration and constant thought from

Paddy

(1) Andrew Devonshire died on 3 May.

23 June 2004, Chatsworth

Darling Paddy,

I've had 817 cards, haven't counted the letters but I will when they're answered. Andrew had such diverse interests & acquaintances from every conceivable organisation from all countries in the world.

No Eskimos yet but they'll come. You can't imagine how odd it is reading them. Even from the dullest person there is a sentence which is worthwhile or tells of some generosity to people unknown to me. It is very strange here without him because he was the hub, everything revolved round him.

Most of the people who look after this place weren't born when he found himself in charge 54 years ago. Odd thought. They've known no other.

So tomorrow is the memorial service at Bolton Abbey. The next day come Jayne Wrightsman, the de la Rentas (1) & an adorable Italian (2), all part of the summer scene here for years, arranged 12 months ago. Little do they know they are to be joined by Gen Sir Michael Rose (3), Col of the Coldstream Guards (the one who did Kosovo, hero of many) because Andrew planned a Coldstream day here & 800 present or ex-Guardsmen are coming PLUS THE BAND.

It will kill me because I've had some wonderful letters from said Guardsmen who were with Andrew in Italy and one who was with Billy (4) when he was killed. “We were so angry we took no prisoners that day.”

OH DEAR what tragedies that war produced.

Much love

Debo

(1) Oscar de la Renta, fashion designer and his wife, Annette.

(2) Federico Fourquet, Italian garden designer and interior decorator.

(3) Michael Rose, Commander of the United Nations Protection Force in Bosnia 1994-5.

(4) Andrew Devonshire's older brother, Billy, was killed by a sniper's bullet while serving with the Coldstream Guards in Belgium in 1944.

2 October 2004, Chatsworth

Darling Paddy,

I've been in the Highlands. It is too big & threatening for me & the endless evergreen trees are melancholy.

I stayed with the P of Wales in Cake's old house, Birkhall. That is truly fascinating, all passages lined with Spy cartoons stuck cheek by jowl, all my Granddad's work - he started Vanity Fair & engaged Spy (1). Curtains in tatters & the Prince won't touch them. Cake's hat & mac hanging in the hall. He reveres her & so won't change anything, so right.

My bathroom was a punishment cell, freezing cold LINO ON FLOOR & I didn't take bedroom slippers. Elec towel rail bust. Everything else supreme luxury & I loved the bathroom, back to childhood.

Much love

Debo

(1) Thomas Gibson Bowles (1841-1922). DD's maternal grandfather, a politician and journalist, started the satirical magazine Vanity Fair (unrelated to its modern namesake) in 1868. In 1873 he recruited Spy, the artist Leslie Ward.

13 November 2005, Chatsworth

Darling Paddy,

Here is chaos. I'm on the brink of moving, trying to undo 46 years-worth of GLUT. My rooms have got cardboard boxes, one for THROW, one for KEEP, & now I see a third is needed for UNDECIDED.

There are marvellous entertainments called car-boot sales & that's what I need. You can buy a Rembrandt for a few quid in any old field. So why not sell a few?

I MUST go & fill a cardboard box.

Much love

Debo

23 September 2006, Edensor

Darling Paddy,

Stella came. We had to be together in a photo for Vogue's 90th birthday come Christmas. So one Mario Testino(1) famous photographer, came in a helicopter with a crew of makeup, hairdresser, “fashion editor”, etc from London.

I've got a really beautiful dress, grand evening, given me by Oscar de la Renta, so that was my kit. They bound Stella's legs, up to where they join her body, in tartan. A Union Jack flag hung from her waist & her top was what my father would have called meaningless.

Hair skewbald/piebald, all colours & stuck up in bits. THEN they produced “shoes” with 6 inch heels. More stilts - she could hardly put one foot in front of the other, wobbling & toppling.

We looked just like that Grandville drawing of a giraffe dancing with a little monkey. I was the monkey.

Much love

Debo

(1) Mario Testino took some of the first fashion shots of DD's supermodel granddaughter, Stella Tennant, who married his assistant, David Lasnet, in 1999.

Extracted from In Tearing Haste: Letters Between Deborah Devonshire and Patrick Leigh Fermor, John Murray, £25. Available from Times BooksFirst at £22.50, free p&p: 0870 1608080; timesonline.co.uk/booksfirst

Letters ©Deborah Devonshire or Patrick Leigh Fermor 2008. Compilation, footnotes and editor's note ©Charlotte Mosley 2008