Counting One's Blessings Page 5
Barson is very well thank you, he’s always well! The Nurse is coming May 2nd, and Mother is going to re-open May 3rd. All our soldiers have now left Dundee. Tommy, the Sergeant, & Nicky have been discharged & gone. Pegg has been sent to a New Zealander’s hospital, where I expect he will be happier than in Dundee, & poor little MacGilhuddyreeks goes to a consumptive hospital. I don’t know about Freddy and Stevie, but I think they’ve all gone. […]
Well, I must stop now. I will send you one of the dreadful photos of me when they arrive.
Gott strafe Miss Jemima Goodman.† Gott strafe Hackney. Gott strafe Dalston Junction, Gott strafe the tapioca pudding (most especially), Gott strafe the whole exam, but God bless Henry. God bless the shops with his photograph and all the nice things, we won’t strafe them. Shall we say ‘Gott strafe Medusa Poignand, the curse of the Poignands? No, we shall not. We shall say Gott bless Medusa Poignand, the source of continued worry & anxiety to Elizabeth Lyon, who makes eyes at Fatty & conducts herself in a most unseemly manner.
Yours forever
Elizabeth
26 April 1916 to Beryl Poignand
The Little House
Clova
Forfarshire
My dear Medusa
Don’t for one moment imagine that Glamis is burnt or blown up, because it is’nt. We’ve only come up here for the day, to plant & tidy etc. It is the first fine day that we’ve had since I came up from London, the weather has been hopeless. David & I are coming down next Monday if all’s well. He goes back to Eton on Wednesday, & I prophesy that Tuesday evening will be taken up. Most probably ‘Stand & Deliver.’
Wisp thinks he won’t be in for a refit anyhow before May 10th, so the wedding can’t be fixed. Rosie & he go down tomorrow. She’s got to get her trousseau, & he joins his ship. I didn’t realise what a lot of things have to be got for a trousseau. I should never be able to use 2 dozen of everything, lingerie I mean, good heavens, I’m thankful to say no. She and Wisp will be very poor. His destroyer is the Comet I think, & he is in the Grand Fleet up North. […]
All that I say is DAMN THE EXAM!! I always was good at poetry wasn’t I?!! I’m not going to tell anyone about it, anyhow till they ask me!! Good heavings! What was the use of toiling to that er, place er Hackney? None, I tell you, none. It makes me boil with rage to think of that vile stuff, tapioca, eaten for – nothing? […]
Rosie will probably be married between the 16th & 26th, some time about then. […] [She] gets all sorts of funny letters amongst her hundreds of congratulations. Lord Curzon called her ‘an unplucked blossom’ […]
You remember that Friday (it’s always Friday) the last one I mean, after we’de been with Lavinia, & we had to go to tea with Mlle Lachaise?
We went by tube, & there were two old gentlemen sitting opposite, & they never took their eyes off me for one second, it was so embarrassing. And a little foreigner who heard us speaking French in the lift followed us all the way, & sat next to us, & absolutely dwelt on our words, he simply loved us, & was dreadfully disappointed when we got out!
To hell with all such people as the Oxford Examiners.
Good bye & behave yourself. A bientot Elizabeth
‘It’s a funny thing working for exams, it doesn’t last very long, does it? I remember working up a history bit or something. It’s awfully easy to forget. I think it’s easier to go round Windsor Castle and learn from that. There’s the whole of history there. From William the Conqueror and the stones coming up from Caen in Normandy.’
1 May 1916 to Beryl Poignand
20 St James’s Square
[Addressed to ‘Miss Medusa Pinpoint Poynard Poynment Poiggnand Poignand’
‘If NOT away please do NOT forward.’]
My dear Medusa
I wrote you a most beautiful letter yesterday, and now I’ve had to tear it up & begin all over again, as I got one from you this morning! Zut! I mean Phut or Fut or Futte. We arrived yesterday morning from Glamis, quite safely, lots of sailors.
We left father and Barson sorrowfully drinking cocktails. It was 9 o’clock when we left & the sun was setting. I’ve never seen it look quite so lovely. You see it sets right behind the hills now, & it was yellow & pink & gold, going gradually down to deeper & deeper blue, with a few huge yellow stars. Lordy how pretty it was. […]
Father comes on Tuesday, I expect he will spend his days in the Army & Navy Stores buying toothbrushes & sponges & campstools & such things! […]
Yours till Henry is no longer our beloved
Elizabeth
23 August 1916 to Beryl Poignand
Glamis Castle
My dear Medusa
Thank you many times for your charming & amusing letter. I am so glad that you are enjoying yourself at Ramsgate. Did you know I did such a silly thing! Before I left London I wrote a long & very good poem all about our adventures (very private) and then went and left it in the blotting book in the Morning Room! Fool that I am.
Mike left London for France yesterday. Damn. […] Admiral Jellicoe* came over to tea last week. He’s too nice, so silly, just like a sailor! We went over to tea with him and his spouse last Friday, that is, Rosie & I. […]
Rosie went off yesterday to see Wisp. She will be about three weeks away. Mike went the day before, Rosie yesterday, my best soldier friend also yesterday, so I’m in a BAD temper! My ‘best boy’ being the Drummer boy as I don’t know any of them very well. I went & played ‘Donkey’ with them the night before last, at the end there was a wall of faces standing round and watching! Oh it was embarrassing! One has the D.C.M. Most of the men won’t believe him, tho’ he has his ribbon. There are 15 men. […]
We are often getting Zeppelin scares, at least about 9 o’clock they telephone that the Zepps are here or coming, and by 11 all’s well. […]
Mother is better thank you.
Well, good bye, I don’t think it’s at all proper you pushing soldiers about. I wish you’d met Ernest!! Well old thing BE GOOD & luck pursue you.
Yours
Elizabeth
17 September 1916 to Beryl Poignand
Glamis Castle
My dear Medusa
I don’t know whether you’ve heard anything about the fire yet? It’s a beastly nuisance. Yesterday, Saturday at 5.30, we saw smoke coming from the very top roofs. Nine soldiers & Sister had gone to the ‘pictures’, but the remaining 4 & all the maidservants rushed up and handed buckets like old Billy-o. The more water, the more smoke, we absolutely could not find the fire. We then telephoned for the Forfar and Dundee fire brigades.
Before they arrived the little flames were sort of creeping through the roofs, you know – where the tiles are. It was too awful. Before 10 minutes the whole village was down! The former was absolutely no use, having only a hand pump. The Dundee one heard at 6 o’clock, & was here in 26 minutes! Wonderful. They had powerful engines, and by midnight most of it was out. But the danger was great, & we were so thankful when the water started. From 6.30 till about 10 o’c I stood just outside the drawing room door, sweeping down the water. The cistern upstairs had burst and the flooding was dreadful. Four soldiers who were harvesting on the farm helped very well, also people from the village. All the furniture on the top two floors had to be carried down, & I had an awful job trying to find place. The drawing room was full, then King Malcolm’s Room, then your room (Mdlle’s) & the Strathmore Room! Only the very top rooms (where the empty turret is) were absolutely gutted, and the most awful amount of damage by water. It was pouring into the Drawing Room all night, and the Chapel is a wreck. All the pictures with huge smudges, it’s beastly. The Blue Room & Crypt were flooded, & the water didn’t stop till 5 this morning. Everybody was splendid, & my word I do ache!
You see there was none of us indoors, and I had to direct every man bringing down the furniture, also it began to get dark, & I had to get candles. Mrs Stewart commanded everybody, & Mrs Swann was very flurried, just like a little partridge!! I can’t tell you all the little incidents,
but it was too dreadful, we thought the whole place would be burnt. Captain Weir, the Chief of the Dundee F.B said that if the fire had been today (a strong wind is blowing) nothing on earth would have saved the castle. I can’t tell you how unhappy we were, the flames were so awful. Half an hour after it started, Lady Airlie telephoned to say would we come over if it got too bad, then Hughie Munro to ask us, then the Douglas’s telephoned, then the Fotheringhams, then Lady Dalhousie, all thought the Castle was burnt to the ground. The photographer, Dunn, (our old friend) was here last night, & presented me with postcards this morning. He took the charred remains today. I will send you one or two. Oh Lor, I’ve swept the big stairs the whole morning, I am so tired.
Yours till the firemen leave (they like this place!)
Elizabeth
PS Two firemen are staying. It broke out again this morning, and wants watching for a day or two.
When the fire broke out Elizabeth’s father and brother David were shooting and many of the soldiers were at the pictures in Forfar. Elizabeth seized the initiative, calling the fire brigade and organizing the effort to save the pictures and other valuable contents of the Castle. The Dundee Courier reported that she was ‘a veritable heroine’.* Her mother wrote to Beryl, ‘Eliz’th was wonderful … Poor darling she was quite worn out after and ached all over for days.’†
20 October 1916 to Beryl Poignand
Glamis Castle
My dear Medusa
Thank you so much for all your charming letters! I hope you are enjoying Richmond. Nothing doing up here. I go to the Ward every evening now. They are very nice. I wrote a ‘poem’ for dear Sergeant Little’s book‡ yesterday. All by myself. I did it when I woke up in the morning. Sister always teases him about his mental condition, because the poor man put a postal order in the fire by accident, and he does talk rather nonsense! Its rotten!
His mental state, said Sister
Gives me quite a fright
He talks such dreadful nonsense
Morning, noon and Night.
[…]
Though Sergeant Little’s brain is weak
His arm is very strong,
He strafes the Bosche like anything
Here’s Luck to him life long!
They all thought it too wonderful! They really thought I had brains! Also I was given the Queen of Spades 11 times. I wondered what the terrific joy was about, & I found they’de been passing it under the table to give me! They are such babies! […]
Good bye swine, write soon to Me
‘When the soldiers came to be nursed or convalesce, were they fun?’ asked Eric Anderson.
She replied: ‘Oh, yes. And one kept up an enormous correspondence when they went back, you know … one used to hear what was going on, you know. Oh no, they were absolutely splendid.’
25 October 1916 to Beryl Poignand
Glamis Castle
Mr Dear Medusa
Many thanks for your charming long letter. I was delighted to get it. I’m so sorry that you are cold, but you’ll be nice and warm when you die, which must be a great consolation to you.
I’m feeling sick already. Tomorrow they’ve got one of those – whist drives (pardon me oh), but really my feelings are a bit too much for me! I of course have got to present the prizes, and I shall die. SIXTEEN huge men, all the Hoggs and Stewarts and oh it’s too awful. And not even you to hold my hand. Damn. Ten men go on Friday. I know them quite well now. […]
I wrote another poem and sent it back by Mother! It was to Harding, who delights in giving me the Queen of Spades! It goes thus – and is frightfully bad!
I sometimes go into the Ward
And play a game or two;
And if I get the Queen of Spades
Tis only due to you – Private Harding!
[…]
Apparently he is delighted, and Sister said that he and Nix are very haughty now!!! Nix is angelic. I love him. You would too. He’s very small and merry with a golden heart as you might say. Did I tell you that Mother & I were solemnly photographed with all the soldiers?! By Mr Dunn? They all dressed up yesterday evening, and looked too funny. The Glamis Band gave a selection! Twelve sit in a circle and one conducts. The gramaphone in the middle. The dinner horn is tooted, a bell is rung, the melodeon is squeaked, two penny whistles, a penny rattle rattled, a drum beaten, no tune at all, just only as much noise as they can possibly make! The noise is infernal! Poor Mrs Swann sits on a bed with an agonised expression on her face, stoping up her ears! Sister likes it! They are quite mad. Harding was the Queen of Spades!! That was a great joke! Nix was ‘His Lordship’s Jockey’ and frightfully pleased with himself. I believe I’m going to be confirmed on 5th November, and we come South the 7th or the 9th. […]
Goodbye from yours I like whist drives
Elizabeth.
26 October 1916 to Beryl Poignand
Glamis Castle
My dear Medusa
Just a line to tell you about the whist drive. I was perfectly terrified all yesterday, but it wasn’t so bad as last time, somehow. The ‘Housekeepers Room’ people had got it up, and Catherine arranged it nearly all. […] Wilson made a long speech, and then said that he wouldn’t keep them any longer as Lady Elizabeth had a long speech to make!! My face and jaw fell down to the ground with horror! However I didn’t! Harding got the 1st prize, 6 handkerchiefs, Pat Keeney an Irishman got 2nd, & McCleod got Booby. The two Booby prizes were a chocolate Nurse & a chocolate kiltie [a Highland soldier]. […]
Then, we danced! Rosie & I led off with Sergeant Robinson & Gordon. I with Gordon, who waltzed round & round and round, till I nearly died, then thank the Lord his shoe came off, or else I should have fallen down with giddiness! […]
Ten of them went this morning, at eight o’clock. I’ve just waved them off from the Ward window. They were all dreadfully unhappy, and too darling. They say they are all coming back in February.
The little Irishman wished me a merry Christmas & happy New Year!! Williams said ‘God bless you’ and they all said, thank you, very nicely. I do wonder if they caught their train! Because every two steps, they stopped, threw their kit bags into the air, and waved frantically, and of course all the kit bags fell down, so that took about 3 minutes to pick them all up. They all enjoyed themselves frightfully last night. No other news at all. […] Well, I hope I shall see you in a couple of weeks. There is no excuse for you because there are hundreds of trains to Richmond and it’s only sixpence. The little tiny funny Irishman said ‘You’ll get a letter from Ireland’. I don’t expect I will!
Good bye
Yours till the moon turns blue
Elizabeth
27 January 1917 [misdated 1916] to Beryl Poignand
St Paul’s Walden Bury
My dear Medusa,
I was so sorry not to see you last week but we were only there for the dancing & Wednesday, & left Thursday. David went on Wed. Will you come to a play with me soon? […]
We might be coming to London in February, I hope so. Rosie is going to be painted by P de Laszlo* with the money that the tenants gave her for her wedding. She went to see him to arrange about sitting, and he simply went into raptures about her! He pulled down her hair, & did it up again quite differently, he bent her best hat and ruined it, and said she was exactly like Lady Hamilton you know, [George] Romney’s Lady H. Too funny.
Must fly goodbye. Oh, I had two letters from the front Nix and the Fish boy, both amusing.
Yours till the cows come home. E
Thursday 3 May 1917 to Beryl Poignand
Glamis Castle
My dear Medusa,
Just a line to tell you we had a telegram this morning to say that Mike is missing on April 28th.† I don’t know what to say, you know
how we love Mike, and it would be so terrible if he’s killed. It’s horrid & selfish of me to write you a miserable letter, but I’m so unhappy, & added to that I can’t help worrying about Mother in London. I thank the Lord that Rosie is there.
> It’s dreadful, and somehow I never thought Mike could get killed. If he’s all right, he must be, I’ll tell you. Your loving Elizabeth
6 May 1917 to Beryl Poignand
Glamis Castle
My dear Medusa
Thank you so much for your letter, it was such a nice letter. It’s so dreadful having to wait, I do wish we could hear something. Somehow I never thought anything could happen to Mike, everybody is so fond of him, but one forgets that doesn’t count in a War, but you know I still have a hope that he is all right, because one simply can’t tell, can one? I think you know, that Mike is the favourite of the whole family, Father’s very favourite son, & you know how Mother adores him, & Pat & Jock too, Rosie & me, everybody. It would be so dreadful if he was killed.
I’m going down [to London] tomorrow night. I’m afraid Mother is in a terrible state, & Pat you know is at St James’ Sq waiting for a [medical] board, & he is very bad too, I’m afraid. I’m so sorry writing such a depressed letter, and how I hope the next one will be mad & full of the usual rubbish.
He said in his last letter you know, ‘If I’m pipped, I think little John* had better have my guns’, and so he knew they were going to have a bad time I suppose. I’ll tell you what Mother’s found out so far. Ten officers of the 16th & many of the 15th are missing, and only 2 in his battn are wounded, none killed so far. Sidney went to the W.O. [War Office] & found that out. Then May [Elphinstone] asked old Princess Christian† if she’d write to the Crown Princess of Sweden who would find out quicker if he is a prisoner. Princess C cabled, so we ought to hear quite soon if he’s a prisoner of war. That’s all we could do. I’ll let you know the very minute we hear anything, and thank you again for your letter so much.