Friday 2 July Darling, I rang up Mr Crotch to ask him what chances there were in Met. for a cousin of Jean Lewis’s who has a Chicago degree in Science & who wants to come back to this country. As usual I enquired after his wife & he told me that she would be Divorcing him at the next session. He says, my love, that she has Found an Amenable Youth of about her own age & that she wants to marry him. He, Mr, Crotch, is providing the evidence. Darling, he’s been away from the Ministry for quite a considerable time with a nervous breakdown & even apart from that I know that it must have hit him very hard because much of his cynicism & bitterness & crudity had its roots in frustrated love. I have always known that, my darling, but I believed that his own surface callousness could only antagonize his wife still further & that he ought to make an effort. Perhaps he will be less bitter & restless once the whole thing is over. I hope so – at any rate, darling, I shall ask him to dinner one night because he’s already very restless & unhappy at the moment.
Saturday 3 July I had a letter from Basil today, darling, telling me that Raphael Loewe has got a Military Cross. Good for Raphael. I’m not a bit surprised of course, because anything more Bloody, Bold & Resolute than he had become in recent years, I’ve never encountered.
Sunday 4 July While I was waiting for Margaret at the theatre yesterday evening, darling, I had a long conversation with the Woman Who Tears the Tickets. I feel that she must have started life as a Barmaid because she had all the Outward Signs – Black Satin Sheath – Synthetic Ginger Lambswool fluffed out on the top of her head – a large Chunk of Ersatz Jewellery on her plump bosom. She told me, darling, that her husband had recently been killed in an air raid: ‘It’s a funny thing,’ she said. ‘’E said to me two days before ’e was killed “Molly,” ’e said: “I’ve been in the Boer War and I’ve been in the Great War and I’ve served my time in India – and now I’m going to die in London with no weapon in my ’and to defend myself.” – and two days later ’e was dead.’ I gathered, darling, that she found The Moon is Down10 a bit tame after the Non-Stop Nudities which had preceded it. It always amuses me, darling, to see Posters of Naked Wild Oats next door to the Horseguards and within walking distance of every Government Department in the country. I suppose, my love, they’re intended to Solace the Legions of Tired Civil Servants and Whitehall Warriors.
Tuesday 6 July My darling, talking about our problem with Joan hasn’t helped. Her line is: To Hell with the old people. Do what you want to do – They’ll Come Round – my parents did. She talks of minor inconveniences to me if I go against their wishes. She doesn’t seem to realize at all that they have a point of view. Oh! I am bound upon a wheel of fire, my darling. I don’t want to hurt my parents, my dear love, and above all, I don’t want them to hurt you – even indirectly but I’m getting to the stage where I feel that to save my sanity I may have to take a step which will antagonize them permanently. I shall not act precipitately, my darling. I shall try over & over again to make them see my point although I know it’s hopeless. They are no more actuated by Reason than I am. It’s my peace of mind against theirs. The only difference is, my darling, that as long as I’m separated from you I have nothing – but if I go to you they will have one another and the boys & their friends. I have so much more to lose by staying, my darling, than they have by letting me go to you. If only I could make them see that. Oh! God, if only I could.
Darling, today is the worst day I’ve had since you left. You see, my love, each Black day is Blacker than the last because there’s a greater weight of cumulative unhappiness behind it. Darling, I hate writing you sad letters because then I feel that I’m being more of a Burden than a Solace. It’s a cruel paradox, my dear love, that if I loved you less it would be easier to take ruthless steps to go to you – but the thing which haunts me most is that if I flout my parents I may reawaken the old implacable, unreasoning resentment of the accident days against you. You may say, my darling, that such resentment would be unreasonable & God knows you’d be right – but this is not a matter of reason at all. The stand my parents are making is an emotional stand – so is mine. It is emotion pitted against emotion. Mum & Pa may build up specious reasons for their attitude but in fact the point is that they are afraid for me to undertake the journey – they are jealous of the fact that being with them is no consolation for not being with you – they are outraged at the idea of our being married without them – they are angry at my refusal to accept their wishes unquestioningly. Fear, jealousy, outrage, anger, darling. They are all emotions & they’re far more difficult to cope with than a thousand reasons – however cogent, however clearly defined, however sturdily backed. Against that, my darling, I am putting love & more love and yet more love. Reason is no good to me & it’s no good to them. Each of us knows what we want & we are fighting to get it.
Oh! my love, my love, whatever else I may have been doing in the last few weeks I have certainly not been earning my salary. If only I were less tired.
Tomorrow perhaps I shall be able to write you a saner, calmer letter but now I am powerless to do anything but cry & wring my hands. How weary, stale, flat & unprofitable seem to me all the uses of this world when we are not together.
Wednesday 7 July I almost forgot to tell you, my darling, that I had an Air Letter from Aubrey yesterday evening. He presses me very strongly, darling, to urge you to steer clear of Jean’s racket. He says that he has ‘endured a wretched few months for no other reason’ than that he happens to have got himself mixed up in it. This so exactly corroborates the many heart-breaking instances of injustice & Sharp Practice that I wot of, darling, that I now wish with all my heart that I had never asked Jean to give your name to the Great White Chief. However, darling, it is not irrevocable because even if you are Seen you can always retreat Gracefully by saying that you’re too busy to consider any change for the present. It was on the strict understanding that you wouldn’t be in any way committed, darling, that I agreed that Jean should Go Ahead. Aubrey is still depressed & unsettled, darling, but it’s clear that he takes comfort in his Literary & Cultural Pursuits. He says: ‘I find the better minds turning away from politics towards education & literature’ and that, he Obviously Feels is a Good Thing.
Friday 9 July My darling, letters 142 & 143 arrived this morning. I respect your views about the congenital badness of many Germans. It is a view, darling, which is held by other men whom I sincerely respect – most particularly Colonel Samuel who is by nature one of the kindest & gentlest people in all the world. There is no doubt whatever, my dear love, that you have a case, but I can’t believe that the pressing of a button – even if it meant exterminating only the evil people in the world – is the right solution to the problem. Darling, it is true that there are some Conservatives who are not unkind but that is either because they are muddled thinkers or because they are not really Conservatives, in exactly the same way as Aubrey is not a Zionist. (I still adhere firmly to that, my darling.) You see, darling, real Conservatism is an unkind creed. Last night at dinner I nearly smashed the heavy oak dining-table in my fury when Peggy Davies, in reply to my remark that the main fault of the public schools was that there were not enough to go round, said that it was Very Wrong to Educate People Above their Station. That is Conservatism, darling & it is a brutal philosophy. The Nazis wanted to keep the Jews ‘in their place’ – if they could have done it by pure economic Crowding Out I believe that there would have been no massacres – but they couldn’t. The Conservatives want to keep the Insolvent Classes ‘in their place’ which is a state of insolvency. It is true that the best Conservatives don’t want to oppress the poor, darling, but they want to Patronize them. They want their medical services to depend on charity, their livelihood to depend on the goodwill of their employers. I don’t think that it’s an exaggeration to say, darling, that what the Conservatives are fighting is the abolition of slavery. After all, my love, a lot of the American negroes were happier & economically & spiritually better off under slavery than they are no
w & yet I’m sure that not one of them can possibly regret the nominal abolition of slavery – because the idea of slavery is degrading & humiliating. Conservatism degrades & humiliates a vast body of the population – it differs from Nazism in that it does not torture any section of the population. A man who is kind and also honest, my darling, can’t be a Conservative because humiliation & degradation are repellent to any kind man who sees them as such. No kind man, however dishonest intellectually, can be a Nazi of his own free will, darling, because although it is possible to call humiliation & degradation by nicer names, it is not possible to call torture anything but torture. You can say, darling, that in certain circumstances torture is justifiable – that is what the Nazis say & that is what the Inquisition said – but you cannot pretend that it is not torture – and a kind man cannot accept the idea of torture in any circumstances – that, darling, is why you could only press the button if it meant a quick & painless death. I agree with you, of course, darling, that there are some people who are potentially more kind than cruel and others who are potentially more cruel than kind but I do suggest that history has shown that education does on the whole make most people rather more kind than they were before. What I mean, darling, is that there is, on the whole, less brutality in the world now than there was in the middle ages and I believe that the cause is that more people have been taught to think for themselves, although obviously not nearly enough people have been taught to think nearly enough. I am not sure, darling, that education will eliminate cruelty, (except as a mental disease) but I think it may – and I am sure we ought not to decide whether it will or not until every living person has had exactly the same education as you and I have had.
As for Aubrey & Zionism, darling, this is what I mean. Real Zionism means the Cult of Zion. It involves the concept of the Spiritual Destiny of God’s Chosen People, and obviously every true Zionist must feel it his spiritual duty to return to Zion & prepare it to receive his people. How does that tie up, my darling, with Aubrey’s almost violent repudiation of Mr Shertok’s suggestion (which I had mentioned to him) that he intended to settle in Palestine? No, my dear love, I am sure that Aubrey’s Zionism is a matter of political expediency. Like Pa, he sees no other possible solution to the Jewish problem (Pa calls himself a Zionist too, darling).
I get a lot of fun, my dear love, out of the conflict of our views about Me – I expect you do too. You see, darling, I’m No End of a One where judging people is concerned but I certainly can’t swallow the notion that I have a Towering Intellect. You, on the other hand, have great faith in my Intellect but you don’t think much of my judgements of people. I don’t mind a bit, darling, on the contrary I rather enjoy it – but I wonder which of us is right?
Oh! my darling, I’m so sorry that you’re tired & lacking in energy most of the time. Please, my dear love, don’t ever say again that you make ‘little recompense’ for my letters. It simply isn’t true. I can’t describe the comfort & happiness that your letters give me.
Before I forget, my love, Pa met a man yesterday who sat two seats away from Churchill at the Guildhall luncheon the other day & he heard him say very sadly to his neighbour: ‘You know, in this war I have had a great many crosses to bear but none so heavy as the Cross of Lorraine.’11
Saturday 10 July Estelle rang me up this morning, my love to ask me to go with her to see a play about Dr Johnson at the Arts Theatre Club this evening. I shall enjoy that, darling. I am always as much entertained by Estelle’s Dynamic Response as by the play itself. There she sits, darling, with her Auburn Tresses piled high & her wirey body encased in Emerald Green Corduroy or Rainbow-coloured worsted Crackling like a Firework. What a woman, my love, but how much poorer the world would be without her.
I am determined, my love, to start collecting material for my little book on vinaigrettes. This will involve buying a strong magnifying glass & examining the marks very carefully. I shall begin by preparing a catalogue, my dear love & once having all the material together I can always expand it into a book – when we’re married, darling, & the war has dwindled to an ugly memory. I shall go to the Victoria & Albert & study their collection which I’ve never seen but which I’m told is very fine.
Sunday 11 July Darling, The Judgement of Dr Johnson (I hadn’t realized that it was by Chesterton, my love) wasn’t bad entertainment. It presented a shamelessly sentimental picture of the Great Cham, darling. The chief character – a little American woman, was played by Robert Walker’s first wife, darling. Joan has often talked about her, my love, & has always given me the impression that she was extremely attractive & soignée but I thought she looked a hard, flat little piece, myself, & she certainly can’t act. I think, my love, that Chesterton’s ideas in the play are pretty Phoney, darling, but Jenny Laird’s mimsing and frimping didn’t make them any better.
My darling, we’ve had a Free French Staff Captain here all day – an amazing man. He arrived in England 3 weeks ago after months in German & Spanish prison camps. Every time he got into a Tight Spot, my love, he said to himself ‘Woho! I’m a Jew – I’m not going to be Done in by No one’ – & he wasn’t. Judging from his experiences, darling, he has collected enough material to write an exhaustive treatise on the Black Markets of Europe. His progress across Germany, France, Spain & Portugal, my darling, is the story of one Dam’ Black Market after another. I used to think, my love, that Lloyds were pretty Progressive in their Policy of covering anything but Lloyds have nothing on the Black Markets of Europe. There, darling, you can buy or sell anything from human life to pre-1914 Camembert (if you can catch up with it). His name is Meyer & Pa knew him when he was the Egyptian correspondent for Le Temps. I don’t really like him, darling, because he’s been separated (not by Law but by circumstances) from his wife (who is in Cairo) for four years & he doesn’t seem to give a damn whether he ever sees her again or not. I never like men who are indifferent to their wives, my darling, but he’s entertaining to listen to, none the less.
Thursday 15 July I travelled to work with Mr Cherrick, my darling. He was talking of Mrs Wingate, who is in London for a few days & he was saying that she has just recovered from a nervous breakdown – so you see, my darling, she too must find prolonged separation from the man she loves an unendurable strain.
Oh! my love, I’m sick with nervousness about today’s lunch. I am so afraid that the hour may slip by in social tittle-tattle and the opportunity of getting Mr Bennett to persuade Pa that it would be a Good Thing for me to go to you, may be lost.
My darling, I don’t know what I expected Mr Bennett to look like – I suppose I identified him in my mind’s eye with Sir Edward’s gracious and courtly dignity – but I certainly didn’t expect anything quite so black-and-white and Booming drinking large quantities of Undiluted Gin. Every word he said to me, my darling, Rapped me on the Back so that my teeth rattled. ‘Trouble with you,’ he said, ‘is that you’re too clever to get any normal job, what?’ I explained to him patiently, my dear love, that I’d gladly take a job as a Stoker if it would get me to you any sooner but that the Ministry of Labour didn’t feel the same way about it. ‘Eh! What?’ he said. ‘Wouldn’t mind coming down a peg or two to be with the young man?’ I assured him that for my own part I wouldn’t mind at all but that you and Pa & the Government had views on the subject. Then, darling, he told me in all seriousness & with real kindness that I should be wary of writing sadly & anxiously to you because you were a ‘fine, sensible young man’ & would be perfectly happy in Egypt except for the anxiety I was causing you. Oh! my darling, I’m so terribly sorry but I can’t write to you as though I were happy when I’m not. Mrs Bennett is a rather mousey woman. I imagine that she must find the bristling efficiency of her husband a little wearing. I certainly did. It’s not fair of me, darling, to speak so of a man who has been genuinely kind to me & whose only purpose in Rating me so Soundly was to infuse into me a little of what he would no doubt describe as ‘Pep’, but by God, darling, if he sells Wirele
ss Services as Energetically as he sells his Notions about Life I wonder that there are any rival Cable organizations left if the field at all. Oh! my love, I do see what you mean when you say that you wouldn’t like to be an Employee of his who had happened to Get on the Wrong Side of him. I was right to be Fearful of this meeting, my darling, because, far from trying to persuade Pa that it would be a Good Thing for me to go to you, he was much more bent on persuading me that I was Fussing needlessly. There is nothing for it, my darling, but to write off this meeting & start again with Pa. Oh! God.
Mr Bennett is going from here to Algeria, my darling, & thence to Cairo. He will bid you to share his ‘Tiffin’ (Ye Gods!) when he returns to your part of the world. Darling, I have a Very Personal Question to ask you – Are you Tiffin Conscious? If so please Grow Out of it and that Right Rapidly. I would still love you, my darling, if you were to say to me: ‘What about a little Mollock after the Next Tiffin but two?’ but I can’t in honesty deny that I should be Badly Shaken – very Badly Shaken.
Friday 16 July This evening, my dear love, Mr Crotch is coming to dinner – & Jean & Square.
Mr Crotch spoke very little, my darling. He has lost much of his breezy cynicism, my dear love, & he’s rather bewildered & lost. I’m very sorry for him, darling. It was Square who Held the Floor both at dinner & afterwards. He really is a good Raconteur, darling. He told us of his experiences as a Meteorological Observer in France during the last war. One of his jobs, darling, was to Crawl up a Steep Hill at 1 o’clock in the morning & Take Observations. This he found rather Wearisome, my dear love, & so he soon discovered that there was a weather-cock on a neighbouring Church from which he could Observe the Wind Direction! It struck him as a little odd, darling, that during the 6 months he was there the wind was blowing steadily in the same direction at 1 o’clock in the morning. It was only when he left, (having Let his Successor in on the Weather Cock) that he had a Stiff Letter from the Corporal who took his place pointing out that the weather-cock was stuck & had been for years.
Love in the Blitz Page 45
