The Other Mitford (16 page)

It was an agonising time for the sisters as Sydney hovered between life and death, but it was also cathartic since they had time to spend together and to reflect on the mother which some of them had felt to be inadequate but who was really the rock of their extraordinary family. This was the time when gentle, capable Pam took over many of the aspects of caring for Sydney and looking after the others. Sydney, by her own wish, was buried at Swinbrook, next to David, on the first really warm spring day of the year, when Swinbrook looked at its very best.

The same year, Jessica enjoyed enormous success with
The American Way of Death
, a description and attack on the American funeral industry which for years had divested bereaved families of huge sums of money for their loved ones’ funerals. The cost of dying, Jessica declared, was rising faster than the cost of living. The book, with which just about every reader could identify and which was savagely funny, was top of the bestseller charts for months and was the book of which Jessica became most proud. Except for
A Fine Old Conflict
, the sequel to
Hons and Rebels
, published in 1977, which again ruffled family feathers, she never quite reached the heights of
The American Way of Death
. (An inexpensive coffin became known as a Mitford, causing hilarity among the sisters.) Her campaign for a fairer world which she had once demonstrated by her actions, she now fought for in her writing, and she was always supported by Bob who helped her with the research.
The Making of a Muckraker
, published in 1979, is a collection of her articles on the subjects about which she felt most strongly, including funerals, prison conditions and civil rights.

Jessica was offered several short-term academic posts, including one at Harvard and another at Yale, and as a lecturer her humour and wit meant that she was very popular with her students. The honorary degree of Doctor of Letters which she received from San Jose University caused her to write to one of her sisters: ‘Wouldn’t Muv be amazed to find that Little D [Sydney’s pet name for Jessica] has been transformed into D Litt?’ The irony of the situation for one who claimed she had been denied a proper education by her parents cannot have been lost on her sisters.

By the 1960s it was obvious to Nancy that her relationship with the Colonel was never again going to be any more than that of a dear friend. She tried not to be jealous when she saw him with other women and to avoid this happening too often she moved to an apartment in Versailles in 1967. Worse was to come. Palewski had always told Nancy that to marry a divorced Protestant (Nancy and Peter had finally divorced in 1958) would harm his political career, but he then married in the mid-1960s a duchess who was also a divorced Protestant. Nancy tried to pretend, even to Diana, that she didn’t mind but she was bitterly unhappy, even though she and the Colonel remained friends. Only two years after moving to Versailles, Nancy became ill with what was eventually diagnosed as Hodgkin’s disease, a form of leukaemia; this was after many misdiagnoses, numerous tests and treatments which failed to help at all. For much of the time she was in great pain, particularly in her back. An operation to remove a lump, supposedly benign, from the base of her spine did not help for long, though she had a period of remission in which she started the research for her biography of Frederick the Great, travelling to Germany with Pam as interpreter; when the pain gradually returned Pam also acted as her nurse.

Nancy never knew that she had cancer because Pam, Diana and Debo felt that if she was told she would give up. Jessica, as usual (though it was a valid opinion and one which would be unquestioned today), felt that this was wrong because it deprived Nancy of any feeling of urgency about setting her life in order. But Jessica was far away and the others, particularly Pam and Diana, were caring for Nancy so their view prevailed. One good thing which came of Nancy’s illness was that for the first time since before the war, Diana and Jessica spent time together when Jessica visited Nancy in Versailles. On the surface they enjoyed friendly chats but never spoke of the events which had divided them and they did not meet again after Nancy’s death. She died on 30 June 1973 and it is thought that the last person she recognised was the Colonel, who was one of the few non-family visitors during her last days.

She was cremated in Paris and her ashes buried at Swinbrook, next to Unity. ‘Nancy was the brightest star of our youth,’ wrote their cousin Joan Farrer to Jessica, who did not attend the funeral but had it described to her by Diana and Debo. Unlucky in love, Nancy was incredibly successful in her career and she had been delighted when, the previous year, she was awarded both the CBE and the Legion of Honour for her contribution to literature.

After fighting the 1959 general election on behalf of his Union Movement, Sir Oswald Mosley stood once again in 1966 but once again was defeated, although he did receive 10 per cent of the vote. He then gave up the leadership of the party but continued to promote a European union both on the Continent and also in Britain. This was not easy because he was still very much the bogey man to the British public – as late as 1962 he had been beaten up at a meeting of the party in London’s East End and he was banned from appearing on the BBC and ITV. After 1966, however, as time had passed and views had become more liberal, he began to appear on both channels, most notably on a
Panorama
programme in 1968 which attracted an audience of 8½ million. In the same year he published an autobiography,
My Life
, which sold well. Mosley by now was being regarded less as a national threat and more as an interesting historical figure. This view of him was emphasised even more when, in 1975, Robert Skidelsky brought out a biography of Mosley which was not only balanced but gave a fair appreciation of Mosley’s thinking since the war.

Diana was not so lucky and her autobiographical book,
A Life of Contrasts
, was not well received since it included praise of Hitler and a failure to condemn some of the nastier elements of the Nazi regime, particularly anti-Semitism. This, coupled with her obviously comfortable life, did not make her an object of sympathy and influenced the reviewers’ attitude to her book.

Away from the public eye, the Mosleys were now accepted by many people both in England and France; their family life was happy, they were on good terms with all their seven children and with Nancy, Pam and Debo, and the thaw in the relationship between Diana and Jessica must have been welcome, at least to Diana. Sydney’s death, followed by Nancy’s illness and death, brought the sisters closer than they had been since politics and war divided them. But this was not to last.

The publication of
Unity Mitford – A Quest
, the biography of Unity by David Pryce-Jones, once again led to division between the sisters. Jessica was largely in favour and Diana, Pam and Debo were very much against. This event and the connected one of the mislaid scrapbook is related in detail in Chapter 17, but it is particularly relevant to the activities of the Mitfords during the 1970s as it illustrates the grouping which the four remaining sisters tended to fall into after Nancy’s death: Jessica would take one side of an argument; Debo, Diana and Pam would take another.

Debo, particularly, felt that it was too soon to tackle a book on someone so controversial and that any biographer would emphasise the aspects of Unity’s life which had so mesmerised the press in the pre-war years and after her suicide attempt. She and the others wanted to remember Unity as Jessica had actually described her in
Hons and Rebels
: ‘I loved Boud for her huge, glittering personality, for her rare breed of eccentricity, for a kind of loyalty to me which she preserved in spite of our now very real differences of outlook.’

The others also testify to these traits and to her originality and eccentricity – there really was no one like her; but Pryce-Jones focused on her relationship with Hitler and her life in Germany. He had done much research, including interviewing some of Unity’s remaining German friends and some of the Mitford cousins, but after the book came out many claimed they had been misquoted. Jessica told the other sisters that she had agreed to speak to Pryce-Jones so that he would have her view of Unity, but even she was not entirely happy with what he had written. What would have made the picture of Unity more balanced was if Diana, Debo and Pam had agreed to speak to him, but they had refused. They were so angry when they saw the finished biography that they wrote a furious letter to
The Times
. Unfortunately, this and subsequent adverse publicity made people want to read the book and sales soared.

The incident almost caused a permanent rift between Jessica and her sisters, and it was only because of Debo’s determination that this should not happen and Jessica’s reluctance to sever the ties completely that the affair was patched up. Pam and Jessica were eventually ‘on speakers’ again, but Diana and Jessica did not build on the contact they had made during Nancy’s illness and never saw one another again. It was left to Debo to keep the remaining family members up to date with the others’ activities, as Sydney had once done. The fact that she took over this role irritated Jessica, since Debo was the youngest. The frustration of the others towards Jessica’s attitude is not hard to understand and yet, rather like Unity, Jessica’s personality when she was not involved in family disputes was warm and attractive, but she could be an implacable opponent on her many crusades, usually for good causes.

Debo herself had plenty of other things to occupy her time, most of them concerned with the survival of Chatsworth and to this end she created a quality gift shop, a farm shop, a butchery and a restaurant in the old stables. These enterprises, together with the charitable trust which Andrew had set up with the proceeds from the sale of some of the more valuable paintings in the Chatsworth collection, made the house a viable concern; it was to become, like its chatelaine, a national treasure. Debo also bred and successfully showed Shetland ponies, which she found to be a relaxation from the affairs of the house; like her father, shooting during the winter and fishing in summer were not only activities to look forward to, but emphasised the inevitable turning of the seasons which is precious to everyone who lives in and loves the country – and Debo is a true countrywoman.

P
am returned from Switzerland to live in England for good in 1972. She had enjoyed the years she spent in Switzerland but – true to form – had always said that she would return after the last of her dachshunds had died, as it wasn’t kind to bring them back from ‘the Continent’ and introduce them to a new home in old age. In spite of Pam’s love of ‘the Gnomes’, there was little to keep her in Switzerland any longer, though Giuditta chose to stay in Grüningen. There is no record of a rift between them; perhaps in the end each preferred to grow old in her own country.

Pam’s house in Caudle Green, Woodfield, was currently let and while she waited for it to become available she stayed with Debo at Chatsworth in a flat with spectacular views across the park and christened 1A Chatsworth Buildings by Nancy. ‘[Pam] was the inspiration behind the making of the kitchen garden at Chatsworth. She had often talked of the possibilities of a neglected plot beyond the stables, known as the Paddocks, and a few years later it was transformed into the kitchen garden of my dreams,’ writes Debo in her book
Wait for Me
.

Woodfield House, when Pam finally got there, was exactly right for her. It is set in 8 acres, with a garden at that time just waiting for her attention, outbuildings in which to keep the animals she acquired, and set on the edge of the village green where her neighbour Mr Mills looked after the cattle which she grazed upon it. The house itself is early eighteenth century with a much older barn, some of which is now part of the house, at the back. It was previously the home of the local GP, Dr Sanger, whose son Fred became the only man in the world to win the Nobel Prize twice, for chemistry, and who was voted Britain’s most eminent living scientist. All the main rooms, including the attic (where Fred slept as a child and which Pam converted into a comfortable flat), have views over neighbouring Miserden Park, home of the Wills family, where Pam would walk for hours with Beetle, the black Labrador, who replaced the dachshunds. Beetle came from a litter of pups born at Chatsworth and was a dog of almost human mentality; his appearance was a great relief to Pam’s family and friends who had found his small predecessors somewhat over the top. When he wanted Pam’s attention he would tug the back of her skirt and lead her to whatever it was he needed at the time. Her good tweed skirts bore the marks of his attentions and when they became too ragged they were consigned to Beetle’s bed because nothing Pam possessed was ever wasted.

Due to the weakness of her ‘polio leg’ Pam was uncertain that Woodfield would remain a suitable home for her old age and she resolved to convert a single-storey barn in her farmyard into a house. Unfortunately – as so often happens in the Cotswolds, an area of outstanding natural beauty – she fell foul of the planning authorities and also of two of her near neighbours; however everyone else in Caudle Green, where she was fast becoming a very popular member of the community, was quite happy for her to proceed.

One of the opposing neighbours, who lived in the only modern house in the village, which had a drive of red tarmac instead of the statutory Cotswold gravel, called to see her one day. ‘Mrs Jackson,’ he said, in his humourless Scottish voice, ‘if you get planning permission for that barn I shall build a 20ft wall between you and me.’

‘Oh, Mr Taylor, how wonderful!’ replied Pam, fixing him with her blue-eyed smile. ‘I shall grow a peach tree up my side. I’ve always wanted a peach tree.’ She didn’t get her permission – or her peach tree – but she certainly held the moral high ground.

The farmyard didn’t remain empty: it became home to a rare breed of bantam, Appenzeller Spitzhaube, roughly translated as ‘fluffy bonnets’ because of the tasteful arrangement of feathers on their heads. They are white with black markings and were a familiar sight as they strutted about on the green. Books about the Mitfords say that Pam imported the breed into Britain from Switzerland. That is not strictly correct; ‘smuggled’ would be a more accurate word because in the early 1970s it was illegal to bring fertile eggs into Britain from Europe. This did not deter Pam in the slightest. She later told me that she simply put the eggs in an empty chocolate box (Swiss chocolates, of course), no doubt smiled sweetly at the customs officers and marched through customs with her precious parcel. The eggs were hatched out in an incubator at Chatsworth and another rare breed settled in the British Isles. Pam later contacted Joe Henson who had set up the Rare Breeds Survival Trust at his Cotswold Farm Park near Guiting Power, high on the Cotswolds. They became lifelong friends, no doubt enjoying each other’s gentle sense of humour, as well as their passion for preserving rare breeds. How delighted she would be to see the high media profile that Joe’s son Adam now has on the subjects of farming and rural affairs.