It is very quiet and peaceful here. We have a little house a few miles out of Marrakech and we don’t see any other Europeans except when some of the soldiers from the Foreign Legion come and see us. A short while back we spent a week about 5,000 feet up in the mountains, where the Berber race called the Chleuh live. They are rather interesting people, very simple, all free and equal, very dirty but splendid to look at, especially the women. They have beautiful little pastures with grass almost like England, and you can lie about on the snow in blazing sunshine. Down here the country is flat and very dried up, with no natural trees, much like northern India, I should think. The Arabs are terribly poor and most of the people work for about a penny an hour. For Europeans living isn’t very cheap, not so cheap as France, I should say, though certain things are fantastically cheap, for instance you can buy a camel for three hundred francs, supposing that you wanted one. The brass & copper work that they do here is beautiful, but the most attractive thing of all is the very cheap native pottery, which unfortunately it is almost impossible to bring away.
We were most thankful to be out of England during the war crisis, and I trust we shan’t get back just in time to meet another. The idea of war is just a nightmare to me, and I refuse to believe that it can do the slightest good or even that it makes much difference who wins. If Richard is back and doesn’t feel up to writing, could you give him all our love and say we hope to see him when we get back?
Yours sincerely
Eric Blair
[XI, 532, pp. 329–30; typewritten]
1.Sir Richard Rees’s mother. Rees was serving as an ambulance driver in Spain.
To Jack Common*
23 February 1939
Boîte Postale 48
Marrakech
Dear Jack,
Did you write to Miss Woods about Muriel’s mating? If not, could you be good enough to drop her a card? I don’t remember the exact address, but I think it’s Woods, Woodcotes, Nr. Sandon, and any way they’ll know at the pub. [Orwell was anxious that Mr Nicholls’s ‘old wreck’ should not be mated with Muriel (see 26.12.38) and on 12.1.39 had asked him to contact Miss Woods.] Incidentally I hope there’s no foot and mouth this year. I suppose they are right in not letting animals be moved about while it is on, though they don’t stop men and dogs, but it is really time they stopped that insane business of slaughtering a whole flock of cattle because of one case.
I don’t know exactly when we’ll be back, but some time in April, and will let you know the exact date later. I’ve got to finish the novel, which has been set back because I have again been ill and was in bed a fortnight, though I’m all right now, and then there’s the question of a boat. If possible we want to go all the way from Casablanca by boat, but there’s only one a month and I can’t obtain the date yet. After we get back I must go straight down to Southwold and see my father, and Eileen as soon as possible is going to look for a new house. This is all supposing war hasn’t broken out by then, because if it has I don’t want to be caught with my pants down and shall keep the cottage. But if it would suit you to stay on at the cottage till about the end of April, it would suit us. On the other hand if you wished to leave a bit earlier we could fit that in as well, because in any case either E. or I will have to come down to Wallington to superintend moving the stuff. We shall take the hens, of course, in spite of their failure to make good, but shall probably dump the fowl houses and buy new ones, which would not be dearer than transporting and less fag. I wonder if anything is coming up in the garden. There ought to be a few snowdrops and crocuses soon.
I don’t know whether the world situation is better or worse. I look at it now simply with a meteorological eye, is it going to rain or isn’t it?, though I suppose once it’s started one will fail as usual to keep out of it. If I was biologically a good specimen and capable of founding a new dynasty I would devote all my energies during the war to keeping alive and keeping out of sight. I haven’t heard of or from Richard [Rees], but I’ve just written to his mother to know what the news is. I suppose he got out all right. It’s all a ghastly mess, and if one is not personally involved the most ghastly thing of all will be the complete failure of left-wingers to learn anything from this disaster, the awful sterile controversies which will go on for years, everyone laying the blame on everybody else.
I wonder if Murry’s* ordination is going through all right? I suppose as he’s got a degree already he won’t have to study for very long. But is he quite sound on the 39 articles 1 etc.? I shouldn’t have thought so. It would be comic if he ended up as a bishop. By the way, have you run across the rector of Rushden cum Wallington, Mr Rossborough. Although not very prepossessing he’s a nice little man and has a very nice son. The son, Rob, is at Haileybury and he joined the P.P.U.2 and refused to enter the O.T.C.3 What impressed me was not so much this as that his father after thinking it over decided to back him up. He has been a missionary in Africa and seen the way the natives are treated, and this has given him slightly heterodox views on some questions, as often happens with missionaries. His wife though very nice impresses me as being a bit off her rocker. By the way her praying circle pray regularly for my health (don’t tell anyone this as it’s supposed to be a secret even from me, Mrs R. having told Eileen in confidence).
Best love to Mary and Peter. Eileen sends love.
Yours
Eric
[XI, 533, pp. 330–1; typewritten]
1.Those ordained as priests of the Church of England must assent to the Thirty-nine Articles. These encapsulate the doctrinal position of the church following the Reformation.
2.Peace Pledge Union, founded 1934. Max Plowman* was its General Secretary, 1937–38. It published Peace News, for which Orwell wrote a review of F.J. Shead’s Communism and Man, 27 January 1939 (XI, 529, pp. 322–4). .
3.Officers’ Training Corps, formed by Lord Haldane, Lord Chancellor, 1912–15, before World War I as a means of training a pool of officers; it is chiefly to be found in public schools.
To Lydia Jackson*
Lydia Jackson had visited Orwell at Aylesford Sanatorium in 1938 and she gave this account of her visit:
I found George fully dressed sitting in a deck chair outside; on my arrival, he got up and suggested we should go for a walk in the park. We did not go very far. When we were out of sight of the buildings, we sat on the grass and he put his arms around me. It was an awkward situation. He did not attract me as a man and his ill health even aroused in me a slight feeling of revulsion. At the same time, the fact that he was a sick man, starved of intimacy with his wife, made it difficult for me to repulse him. I did not want to behave like a prude or to treat the incident as a serious matter. Why should I push him away if kissing me gave him a few minutes of pleasure? I was convinced that he was very fond of Eileen and I was in no sense a rival to her (A Russian’s England, 1976, p. 419).
1 March 1939
Boîte Postale 48
Marrakech
Dear Lydia,
I am afraid it is a very long time since I have written to you & I don’t think you have written to me either, have you? I hope all is going well with you. We are in all probability leaving this country on the 23rd March, in which case we should get back about the 30th. I suppose I shall be in London for a bit before going down to see my people etc. So looking forward to seeing you! So try & keep a date or two open a few days after the 1st of April. How is your work getting on? I hope to get my novel finished before we sail, though it will hardly be typed before then. Parts of it I am quite pleased with, others not. Eileen is well though she has had one or two spells of being a little off colour. I was recently quite ill & in bed for a fortnight with what was evidently flu, however I’m all right again now. I don’t believe in the alleged marvellous qualities of this climate which I think is neither better nor worse than any other. All our spending the winter here has really meant is that we have spent immense quantities of borrowed money, however, we were out of England for the war-crisis & that was a bl
essed relief. Let’s hope we aren’t going to bump into another just when we get back.
I wonder who your young man is now? 1 I have thought of you so often—have you thought about me, I wonder? I know it’s indiscreet to write such things in letters, but you’ll be clever & burn this, won’t you? I am so looking forward to seeing you & having a good talk with you. Eileen too is longing to get back to England. We’ll have to give up the Wallington cottage, I suppose, but if possible we’re going to get one in Dorset or somewhere. Take care of yourself. Hoping to see you early in April.2
With love
Eric
[XI, 534A, pp. 335–7; handwritten]
1.This was Karl Schnetzler, but Lydia says although they were friends neither was in love with the other. She thought, however, he was in love with Eileen (A Russian’s England, p. 417). (See 9.4.46 to Inez Holden, n. 2.)
2.In A Russian’s England, which reproduces a few lines of this letter, Lydia Jackson says she read this letter with mixed feelings: ‘I was looking forward to seeing Eileen again, but not George, especially as the tone of his letter suggested a renewal of the amorous behaviour I had been too soft-hearted to repel at the Maidenhead hospital’ (that is, Aylesford Sanatorium, near Maidstone). Further, ‘I had several men friends at the time whom I found more attractive than George, and his masculine conceit annoyed me. Least of all did I want to disturb his relationship with Eileen, or have anything to conceal from her’ (p. 430).
To Jack Common*
5 March 1939
Boîte Postale 48
Marrakech
Dear Jack,
Hope all goes well with you. About our arrangements. If the bank sends us the money in time we’re going to take a boat which sails from Casablanca on the 22nd or 23rd and ought to get to London about the end of March. After that I’ve got to go down to Southwold and see my people and there will be other odds and ends to see to. After much thought we’ve decided to go on living in the cottage for the rest of the summer and not move till the autumn. Apart from anything else we shall have no money at any rate till my book comes out, which would make it very awkward to move, and in any case one can find a better place if one takes one’s time looking for it. Barring war we shall no doubt move, as they say I oughtn’t to spend the winter there and by going further afield one could get a much more sanitary cottage at not much more rent, but we might as well spend the summer there as anywhere else. Also if we go in the autumn we can take certain fruit bushes etc. which we have put in. So, any work you’ve done or had old Hatchett to do won’t have been wasted, rather a barren consideration for you, I’m afraid.
Meanwhile can you do us a great favour, which might, however, ease things up if there happened to be an interval between your finding somewhere else to go to and our coming in. You may remember reading in my book on the Spanish war about Georges Kopp,1 who was commander of my brigade for a while. He’s been for some time staying with Eileen’s brother at Greenwich, but we can’t ask them to have him stay there indefinitely, because they’ve got the house full already and it’s awkward for them. So if necessary could you put him up at Wallington? I don’t mean in the cottage, he can stay at Mrs Anderson’s, but could you see about his meals? Gwen O’Shaughnessy, Eileen’s sister in law, will see about the money for his grub etc., so that you shan’t be out of pocket, and perhaps it wouldn’t be so much trouble for Mary to have one extra person at meals? You’ll find him very easily satisfied. I think you’ll like him also. Of course this might turn out not to be necessary, some job might turn up for him in the mean while, but I doubt whether he’s fit to work yet after being 18 months in jail and starved and so forth. Then if it so happened that you wanted to clear out before we could move in, he could keep the place warm for us. But in any case he’d be there till we come and could then stay for a while until he can get a job, which I expect he can ultimately. If this should turn out to be necessary, I hope it won’t put you out too much.
I’m longing to see England again. It’s starting to get hot here. This is the only time of the year when there’s a bit of greenness, and all the camels, donkeys etc. are gorging themselves while the going’s good. Quite a lot of the wildflowers are the same as in England. The cherry trees are in flower and the apple trees just coming into leaf. It’s nice that we shall see this over again in England. I wonder if there were any snowdrops and crocuses in the garden. I think I shall just finish my novel before we board the boat, but it will probably have to be typed on the sea. There’s about 100 pages I’m pleased with, the rest is a failure. I haven’t heard any more about the Penguin business2 and hope it hasn’t fallen through.
Did you drop a card to Miss Woods about Muriel? 3 I haven’t heard a word about Richard [Rees]* but I wrote to his mother to ask about him. If writing, don’t send any letter later than the 15th, as it might miss us. Love to Mary and Peter,
Yours
Eric
P.S.4 Eileen sends love—& the postscript, really to Mary. I think you might find George Kopp* quite an asset, especially if you can bear to be separated from the gas oven. He is quite handy in the house & adores cooking. But the thing is this: if you can have him will you write & ask him to come? Without of course mentioning that anyone is going to pay for his food. We feel Gwen may be getting a bit down as she’s just had a baby & the house is full of it & its nurse & the locum it necessitates (Gwen is a doctor). On the other hand she can’t suggest that George should go somewhere else; but she could let him accept our invitation. It could be given on the grounds that he’d be staying with us if we were in England & he might like to see our village (he would). He’s the sort of man who’s happy anywhere if people are pleased to see him & you’d find him interesting to talk to—he speaks English quite fluently. If you don’t want to write to George but don’t mind having him, write to Gwen & she can pass on the invitation. The only important thing is that he should be allowed to think that you’re inviting him spontaneously.
[Eileen wrote at the top of the letter:] Gwen’s address: Dr. Gwen O’Shaughnessy, 24 Crooms Hill, Greenwich, London S.E.10
[XI, 535, pp. 337–8; typewritten]
1.Among Orwell’s papers were three issues of Independent News: a special number of, probably, late November or early December 1938 devoted to ‘The P.O.U.M. Trial in Barcelona’; No. 59, 16 December 1938, with an article titled ‘After the P.O.U.M. Trial’; and No. 60, 23 December 1938, which included a report on George Kopp’s imprisonment and release. Orwell and Eileen visited him in prison. (For full details, see XI, 359, pp. 338–9 and VI, pp. 171–78.)
2.See letter to Leonard Moore, 28.11.38.
3.See 23.2.39 and 19.3.39 to Jack Common.
4.The postscript, apart from the first three words, is in Eileen’s hand.
To Herbert Read*
5 March 1939
Boîte Postale 48
Marrakech
Dear Read,
Thanks so much for your letter. I am probably leaving this country about the 22nd or 23rd of March and should be in England by the end of the month. I shall probably be in London a few days and I’ll try and arrange to come and see you. If I could help with Revolt1 I’d like to, though till I’ve seen what kind of paper it is to be I don’t know whether I could be any use. The trouble is that if I am writing a book as I generally am I find it almost impossible to do any other creative work, but on the other hand I like doing reviews, if they would want anything in that line. If we could keep a leftwing but non-Stalinist review in existence (it’s all a question of money, really) I believe a lot of people would be pleased. People aren’t all fools, they must begin soon to see through this ‘antifascist’ racket. A thought that cheers me a lot is that each generation, which in literature means about ten years, is in revolt against the last, and just as the Audens etc. rose in revolt against the Squires2 and Drinkwaters,3 there must be another gang about due to rise against the Audens.
About the press business. I quite agree that it’s in a way absurd to start preparing f
or an underground campaign4 unless you know who is going to campaign and what for, but the point is that if you don’t make some preparations beforehand you will be helpless when you want to start, as you are sure to sooner or later. I cannot believe that the time when one can buy a printing press with no questions asked will last forever. To take an analogous case. When I was a kid you could walk into a bicycle-shop or ironmonger’s and buy any firearm you pleased, short of a field gun, and it did not occur to most people that the Russian revolution and the Irish civil war would bring this state of affairs to an end. It will be the same with printing presses etc. As for the sort of thing we shall find ourselves doing, the way I see the situation is like this. The chances of Labour or any left combination winning the election are in my opinion nil, and in any case if they did get in I doubt whether they’d be better than or much different from the Chamberlain lot. We are therefore in either for war in the next two years, or for prolonged war-preparation, or possibly only for sham war-preparations designed to cover up other objects, but in any of these cases for a fascising° process leading to an authoritarian regime, ie. some kind of austro-fascism. So long as the objective, real or pretended, is war against Germany, the greater part of the Left will associate themselves with the fascising° process, which will ultimately mean associating themselves with wage-reductions, suppression of free speech, brutalities in the colonies etc. Therefore the revolt against these things will have to be against the Left as well as the Right. The revolt will form itself into two sections, that of the dissident lefts like ourselves, and that of the fascists, this time the idealistic Hitler-fascists, in England more or less represented by Mosley. I don’t know whether Mosley will have the sense and guts to stick out against war with Germany, he might decide to cash in on the patriotism business, but in that case someone else will take his place. If war leads to disaster and revolution, the official Left having already sold out and been identified in the public mind with the war-party, the fascists will have it all their own way unless there is in being some body of people who are both anti-war and anti-fascist. Actually there will be such people, probably very great numbers of them, but their being able to do anything will depend largely on their having some means of expression during the time when discontent is growing. I doubt whether there is much hope of saving England from fascism of one kind or another, but clearly one must put up a fight, and it seems silly to be silenced when one might be making a row merely because one had failed to take a few precautions beforehand. If we laid in printing presses etc. in some discreet place we could then cautiously go to work to get together a distributing agency, and we could then feel ‘Well, if trouble does come we are ready.’ On the other hand if it doesn’t come I should be so pleased that I would not grudge a little wasted effort. As to money, I shall probably be completely penniless for the rest of this year unless something unexpected happens. Perhaps if we definitely decided on a course of action your friend Penrose5 might put up something, and I think there are others who could be got to see the necessity. What about Bertrand Russell,6 for instance? I suppose he has some money, and he would fall in with the idea fast enough if he could be persuaded that free speech is menaced.
George Orwell: A Life in Letters Page 22
