After tea Wednesday. Hockey over. Not so bad anyway. May play for the College tomorrow against Wycliffe (?),8 they aren’t short of men. But very unlikely, this. Roe & Georges are very worried about the absence of news. I’ve told them they can ring up you if they want for information about their districts.
The calendar arrived at lunch time today: thank you! Am glad you found my letter “most interesting”: I’m afraid they must be very disconnected & hard to follow. Sorry I called you “S. Larkin” – I could have sworn I put “Esqu.” in. Anyway, I’ve half a mind to address this to the “Lord High City Keeper of ye Moneybags” just to nark you.
The airraids sound ghastly: am divided between relief at not being there and remorse at having gone at all.
Have bought two more expensive things. 1) A St John’s tie. (6/6) This is the red, yellow & black one, not the one with lambs & flags on. 2) An umbrella. This may seem quite absurd to you – perhaps it is. But in Oxford it rains so much – it’s raining now – that it is unpleasant to dress in a continually damp mac. And it’s no good staying in because there are always lectures. A second reason is that everybody has one. In Oxford, mackintosh = umbrella: overcoat = huge college scarf. Have not [got] the second yet: but may get it before the purchase tax goes on.
Thursday. Have just endured half-an-hour from a) the Democratic Socialists & b) the John’s Society for World Affairs. Gods, give me strength! Beyond comment. If only people would think more about why they believe, instead of what ….
Will close now. Have bought a box of St John’s College notepaper so you will see the dear old college crest next time.
Philip
Do hope you are still undamaged.
P.T.O.
Thursday night attended the first meeting (which was public) of the Oxford Union.
Edward Hulton9 was the guest speaker. After a great deal of cultured pleasantries about the new officers (all neatly attired in evening dress) the motion (“that after the war no single political party will be capable of dealing with the problems that will arise”) got under way. It was proposed by an Indian, opposed by a young Carlton Club conservative, sec. prop:10 a huge Pickwickian secretary with an affable smile & great wit “Adam said to Eve …. When they were leaving the Garden of Eden …. My dear …. We are living in an age of transition …”) Sec. opp: an oily, olive skinned Socialist from Balliol who was very convincing. Then Hulton got up & talked utter rot for an hour: and – which was worse – talked it badly. Incoherent and frequently punctuated with “er”’s. His attempts at humour failed lamentably: his attempts to discredit the Labour Party were greeted with hisses & fiery questions. (“Can the speaker explain how the Labour party refused armaments to the country when the conservative party was in power?”) It was terribly boring. We remained until the end at 11.30 p.m., sneaking back to John’s at about 10 to 12 – avoiding the 2/6 fine & “an interview with the President” by 10 minutes. Probably the only time I shall ever go to the Union.
1 Apud: Latin for ‘at the house of’. James (Jim) Sutton (1921–97) was Philip’s closest friend at King Henry VIII School, Coventry.
2 Possibly Sidwell. See letter of 23 January 1944.
3 This paragraph refers to Larkin’s Audenesque sonnet ‘Ultimatum’, which had been accepted by the Listener, and appeared in the issue of 28 November 1940.
4 Possibly Sir Arnold Henry Moore Lunn (1888–1974) skier, mountaineer, supporter of Franco and Catholic apologist.
5 Edmund Blunden (1896–1974), poet of the First World War and friend of Siegfried Sassoon, was a fellow at Merton College at this time.
6 The farce by Brandon Thomas first performed in 1892.
7 Jim Sutton was studying at the Slade School of Art, relocated during the war to Oxford.
8 Wycliffe Hall: a Church of England theological college and a ‘Permanent Private Hall’ in the university.
9 Edward Hulton founded the Hulton Press in 1937. It published Lilliput, Picture Post, and Eagle and Girl for children. He was a member of the ‘1941 Committee’ which pressed for more efficient production to enhance the war effort.
10 ‘second proposer’.
26 October 1940
Dear Mop,
Received letter from Pop this morning telling me of the dispersal and near-fall of the House of Penvorn. I am very sorry to hear it, indeed. I was becoming rather worried because Roe, who receives daily letters, told me of virulent attacks on the station &c. and on our district in general. How we are dispersed – Leicester, Lichfield, Coventry & Oxford!1 Gloomy thought.
We are free from air raids here – only 3 since I came up. Only a few bombs, miles away. I don’t see why they shouldn’t attack here, though, (whisper it quietly) its [sic] lousy with aerodromes. […] Oxford seems singularly cool about airraids – they’ve had none.
Am settling down now, except for work, which is very hard to get down to. Spend most of my time at lectures, eating, sleeping, & vainly trying to write poetry. Sometimes play poker with the others. […]
I haven’t found many friends up here yet. The person (Iles) I know the best I simply loathe.2 Everybody else seems pleasant & unintelligent or distant & unintelligent. Oxford seems very little more intelligent than Coventry, in fact.
I take a bath now on (generally) alternate mornings, and it is quite comforting. My battels3 last week came to about 4/6: this seemed a lot, but I heard somebody languidly complaining that his battels were 35/- & that he would have to cut down his laundry! All else was on beer, wine &c. There are some mugs here.
I should [think] Lichfield is pretty peaceful after the inferno of Coventry, & I hope you’re getting on well there. Who is it you’re staying with? I can’t remember just for the minute.
With much love,
Philip
PS What a lovely-sounding address you have.
1 Sydney remained at his post in Coventry, Kitty was at the Leicester College of Arts and Crafts, and Eva was staying with Sydney’s brother Alfred (1873–1955) at 33 Cherry Orchard, Lichfield, where this letter is addressed.
2 Norman Iles, Larkin’s tutorial partner.
3 College bill.
28 October 1940
Dear Pop,
Your letter of Thursday reached me this morning with its calamities. Actually, I was beginning to get worried about you, for Roe, who receives letters every day, reported concentrated attacks on Coventry and particularly the station. If nothing had come this morning I should have sent a telegram: “Is no news good news?” in desperation. But now the news has come it is sufficiently horrible.
What is happening in the world at present? I never read the papers and am quite ignorant of any developments at home or abroad. And I hope your temporary displacement won’t mean the abandonment of your war diary. That will probably be the only good thing resultant from the war at all.1
We are not/2 free from airraids here. On Thursday night some bombs were dropped but no “alert” (!): on Thursday morning there was a short alarm. I am told that old Brett-Smith, lecturing on mediaeval romance, paused in his discourse, peered over his spectacles, and said “Do I hear an unacademic sound? …” Everybody roared with laughter & the lecture continued. I was listening to Lord David Cecil who just didn’t bother at all.
You should have read that letter you readdressed to Mop, because the actual address doesn’t mean a thing.3 I tried to address to you each alternately, but the contents are common property – this actual one, I think, contained several things for you – receipt of bank book &c.
I have joined the English Club, the largest mixed club in Oxford, for 3/6 per term. Wilson Knight spoke on “Hassan” (James Elroy Flecker) on the first night to an enormous audience – nearly 300, I should think – at St. Hilda’s. I have also subscribed for one term to “The Cherwell” (University magazine) which invites articles, short stories & poems. Four poems, too, have been sent t
o “New Verse”, “The Cherwell” doesn’t seem much to (literally) write home about, being mistakenly funny and veiledly ‘left’. Reports of the Union, for instance – all the Left speakers praised, all the ‘right’ ones depreciated.
Work here is very hard. The trouble is, they expect you to do ten times as much as at school & make it ten times as difficult to work at all. But no doubt I shall settle down. […]
Please write often if only to say you’re still safe.
Philip
By the way, my stammer, which vanished for a few days when I came up, has returned in full force.
1 On the day war was declared, 3 September 1939, Sydney began a formal diary in a large hard-bound volume, headed on the first page ‘The Fools’ War’. It was to run to twenty volumes, and continued into 1946. Hull History Centre, U DLN/1/10–29.
2 ‘not’ inserted in pencil superscript, with a question-mark in the margin.
3 This letter is addressed to Mrs E. E. Larkin, but begins ‘Dear Pop’.
30 October 1940
St John’s Coll. Ox.
Dear Pop,
[…] The “Listener” poem is still unprinted. “New Verse” have not yet replied. There is a letter of D.H.L.’s being offered for 15/- in Blackwell’s: “Del Monte Ranch, Questa, New Mexico, 21st April 1925.” A perfectly-written piece of work.
Must now try to do enough work to write an essay.
Philip
31 October 19401
Dear Kath,
Thank you for your letter, which I found very interesting and ought to have answered earlier.
If we are going to swop “day-in-the-life-of”’s, perhaps you might like to hear my general day, which starts with the scout making one big hell of a row at the grate in our sitting room at about 7.0 a.m. At about 7.30 he2 pretends to wake, although I at least have generally been awake for threequarters of an hour already. We get up between then & 8.10 (breakfast at 8.15) and take it in turns to have baths on alternate mornings.
Breakfast over (usually quite insufficient) during the morning I work, unless I write a letter to start with. Perhaps I visit the college library (as many books as you can carry) first. Anyway I work in my room, or down at the Bodleian English reading room (of which I am a member) until it is time for any lectures I am going to. Lectures are not much help, as a rule. On Fridays at 12 I have a tutorial, which means that I spend an hour with Bone & he reads my weekly essay. Then comes dinner – 1 course & as much bread & cheese as you can lay your hands on.
Afternoons are rather dull. Most people play games. I either fall asleep, read & fall asleep, work & fall asleep, or potter round the numerous bookshops with my umbrella, peering shortsightedly at the dusty titles. Perhaps I buy something for tea (from Marks & Spencers).
Anyway, at four (about) I generally meet Jim from the Slade & we go back to tea at my rooms – or at least he has a cup of tea & Hughes & I eat largely.
Between tea & dinner (7.0 or 7.15, it varies) is quite a fruitful time for work. The night has fallen & the fire chuckles in the grate; there is a pleasant aroma of tea & cigarette smoke in the room (& coal-smoke, if the wind is in the wrong direction). At length we put on our gowns and grope across two quads in pitch dark for dinner. Also generally insufficient. It is over by 7.45 always.
The nights are spent in various ways. Generally I work, but sometimes I go to the pictures, or round to somebody else’s rooms. If I am out after 9.0, I have to kick on the gate & have my name taken, although fines don’t start till 10.15. After writing our diaries & having a final cup of coffee & a cigarette (to use up the milk – the coffee I mean) we go to bed at about eleven, tired but happy – or something like that.
“Freedom v. Discipline” sounds ghastly.3 Hope you supported freedom, anyway. By the way, what is “contempory”? (“Tradition v. Contempory”) Perhaps, too, you might enlighten me on “psycology”? The discussions sound interesting, up to a point. I have had no “intellect at advanced standard” yet, thank God, except when Jim & I had a long & fruitless argument with Hughes concerning the motive power (if any) of Reason.
Yesterday I had a horrible cold!!!4 It lingers today, but after some hot whiskey (smuggled into the college by Jim) it seems to have subsided somewhat.
Tell old Christopherson he’s wasting his time if he doesn’t know Homer Lane.5
Philip
I’ve bought three postcards – two Paul Nash, 1 John Nash – & stuck them over the mantelpiece.
1 Addressed to Miss C. E. Larkin, c/o Y.W.C.A, Granville Hall, Granville Road, Leicester. The precise details of Kitty’s early career are lost. She attended art college in Birmingham, leaving probably in 1936, and going on to obtain an art teacher’s diploma at Leicester College of Arts and Crafts.
2 Philip’s room-mate, Noel Hughes.
3 Presumably a debate at Kitty’s college.
4 Doubly underlined.
5 Homer Lane (1875–1925), American educationalist who believed in giving children more control over their own education. He influenced A. S. Neill, the founder of Summerhill School.
8 November 1940
Dear Mop,
I am hoping to write to you during this half-hour before dinner, in answer to your letter of the 4th. My cold has folded its tents and stolen silently away, you will be pleased to hear, so I shan’t be joining my ancestors just yet!
Friday afternoon and evening are pleasant times because, having had my tutorial in the morning, I can do nothing with a clear conscience. I’ve been reading a very funny book called “Cold Comfort Farm” by Stella Gibbons: a sort of debunking of the sort of novel written by Mary Webb. If you’d like to read it, it’s in the Penguin series.1 The authoress came down to the English Club on Tuesday and talked about “First Things”. She said that she’d always put her housework before her novel-writing because if she hadn’t people would have said “Ah but look how she neglects her husband and home!” Whereas now they say “Isn’t Stella marvellous, she does all the work and finds time to write those wonderful novels!”
I don’t think we shall get a toasting fork, on the whole. I don’t really like toast, on thinking it over. The kettleholder has been hung up by the fireplace on a little hook & is still very useful. We have starting [sic] using my kettle too now. […]
After dinner. Ah! replete with lentil soup, mutton & cauliflower & fruit salad, I will end this little note. I feel strangely content, although Oxford, as a place, is not up to much.
Rot it, anyway.
Love to all at Cherry Orchard,
Philip
1 Stella Gibbons (1902–89). Her first novel, Cold Comfort Farm (1932) won the Prix Femina Étranger and eclipsed her later writing.
10 November 19401
Dear Kath,
About time I answered your letter, for which ay thang yow.2
Firstly – I inquired, in humorous vein, what “psycology” was, because “psycology” is usually spelt “psychology”. All I receive in reply is remarks about “psycology” again, and (!!) “phycology” (!!!)! Arabic news3 is a poor excuse for ramblings such as this!
I haven’t been doing much. (Pause.) There isn’t much to do! (Comic Oxford!!!) I work & write letters, eat & sleep, play cards & smoke my pipe all the time. Oxford as a place is pretty gruesome. If you like “social life” – that’s all right. I don’t. If you like intellectual discussion – that’s all right. I don’t. If you like games, beer, & hooliganism, that’s all right. I don’t. If you like working like Hell & reading all day in the Bodleian – that’s all right. I don’t. If you like spending money, that’s all right. I don’t (on principle). What I want to do is to be given a little manual work per day, in the open air preferab
ly, plus plenty of fruit & vegetables to eat, and with congenial & varied companions who talk very little & think less. That’s all right, but you can’t get it here!
In other words, Oxford & me don’t quite hit it. I thought it unlikely.
… x …
To continue talking about myself, “New Verse” are still struck dumb with admiration over four poems I sent them on October 21st. The swine probably won’t answer, not for nearly six months.
Jim seems to be getting on alright up here. He says they’re all no good at the Slade except an Irishman in his 3rd year. This Irishman’s chief justification is that he once said a drawing had “shape”, when 9,999,999,999,999 art students out of 10,000,000,000,000 would have said “form”. This seems a good quality to me, too.
——
[…] Well, well, I think I must curtail this sprawling note. I suppose the next thing I shall hear is that you’re writing a book on “The Teaching of Art in Nursery Schools”, uh?
Ah well, Yours
Sincerely,
Philip
1 Addressed to Miss C. E. Larkin, c/o Y.W.C.A., Granville Hall, Granville Road, Leicester.
2 Imitating Arthur Askey, popular wartime radio comedian. Larkin mentions him several times in his letters.
3 Presumably Kitty had written about the campaign in Africa.
12 November 1940
St John’s College
Dear Pop,
I have just bought this notepaper to conserve my college supply a little. It cost (with envelopes) 2/5½d. None to be had in Woolworth’s. My money is being spent with alarming rapidity. At present I have fifteen pounds fifteen shillings & sixpence halfpenny: and it is just gone half term. My battels, too, will rise a little.
I have been squandering money on books, that’s the trouble. My bookcase now reads Auden’s “Poems” (6/- but pre-College days); Auden’s “Look Stranger” (3/6); Auden “Spain” (1/-); “Excerpta e Statutis”1 (free); “The Malcontent” – Marston (2/-); Beaumont & Fletcher’s “Philaster” (2/-); “Othello” (2/3); “Selected Plays of Middleton” (2/6); “Lyrics & Poems of Shakespeare” (1/-); “Selected Poems of Andrew Marvell” (6d); “Songs of Innocence & Songs of Experience” – Blake (1/-); Blake’s “Poetical Sketches” (2/-); “Basic English”, Petronius’ “Satyricon”, Donne’s “Devotions”, Lawrence’s “Apropos of Lady Chatterley’s Lover” (I don’t think we have this, have we?) – about 2/-, and the Cambridge Book of Lesser Poets which includes some rubbish and some valuables (3/6). I am still coveting “Rare Poems of the Sixteenth & Seventeenth Centuries” going in an obscure bookshop for 2/-.
Philip Larkin Page 9
