George Orwell: A Life in Letters

by Peter Davison

  I am really enjoying it all imenseley,° including cooking on a range, with which I had a tremendous battle at first. But having removed two buckets of soot from the flues it now cooks & heats the water a treat. One couldn’t compare this place with Middlesmoor 4 as it is quite different but next to it Middlesmoor seems like Blackpool. The country is lovely with rocky coastline & mountains all down the centre of the island. I am making a serious collection of pressed wild flowers. We have a friend of E’s one Paul Potts staying here. He takes all my shafts of scintillating wit quite seriously & suffers from fits of temperament but I think I am welding him into a more human shape.5

  With love

  Avril

  [XVIII, 3025, p.337–8; handwritten]

  1.Avril’s nephew, son of Humphrey and Marjorie Dakin.

  2.Robin Fletcher, formerly an Eton housemaster; he inherited the Ardlussa Estate, which included Barnhill. He and his wife, later Margaret Nelson, set about restoring the estate and developing crofting. Mrs Nelson’s interview with Nigel Williams for the BBC programme Arena in 1984 is reproduced in Orwell Remembered, pp. 225–29.

  3.Craighouse is about sixteen miles south of Ardlussa and about three miles from the southern tip of Jura. It was therefore about twenty-three miles south of Barnhill as the crow flies, but Margaret Nelson gives the distance as twenty-seven miles (Orwell Remembered, p. 226). Orwell relied on Craighouse for a shop, a doctor, and a telephone.

  4.A remote village in Nidderdale, Yorkshire, some fourteen miles west of Ripon as the crow flies. The Dakins had a cottage there, described by Marjorie as ‘a magic cottage’ (see 3.10.38, n. 9).

  5.Paul Potts (1911–90), Canadian poet whom Orwell befriended. His chapter, ‘Don Quixote on a Bicycle’ in his Dante Called you Beatrice (1960), partially reprinted in Orwell Remembered, pp. 248–60, describes Orwell affectionately. He recalls that ‘The happiest years of my life were those during which I was a friend of his’. Avril had been a metal-worker during the war which might explain her use of ‘welding’.

  To Sally McEwan*

  5 July 1946

  Barnhill

  Isle of Jura

  Dear Sally,1

  So looking forward to seeing you on the 22nd. But I’m very sorry to say you’ll have to walk the last 8 miles because we’ve no conveyance. However it isn’t such a terrible walk if you can make do with rucksack luggage—for instance a rucksack and a couple of haversacks. I can tote that much on the back of my motor bike (only conveyance I have), but not heavy suitcases. Send the food on well in advance so that it is sure to arrive before you. For instance if you sent it off about Monday 15th it would get here on the Friday previous to your arrival. I think I’ve given you all the directions for the journey. Don’t miss the train at Glasgow— it now leaves at 7.55, not 8. When you get to Jura, ask for the hired car at McKechnie’s shop if it doesn’t meet you on the quay. It will take you to Ardlussa where we will meet you. I may be able to arrange for it to take you another 3 miles to Lealt, but sometimes they won’t take their cars past Ardlussa. Yesterday I brought Richard and Susan back (I rang you up when in town but it was your day at the printers), and in that case managed to bribe the driver to go within 2 miles of Barnhill, but he was appalled by the road and I don’t think he’d do it again. I then carried Richard home from there and their luggage was brought on in the crofter’s cart. It’s really a quite pleasant walk if one takes it slowly. You don’t need a great deal in the way of clothes if you have a raincoat and some stout boots or shoes. I hope by that time we shall have a spare pair of gum boots for use in the boat. I don’t know what you’ll do on the train, but on the boats from Gourock and Tarbert it pays to travel 3rd class because there’s no difference in the accomodation° and the food is filthy any way.

  With love

  George

  [XVIII, 3027, pp. 339–40; typewritten]

  1.Sally McEwan came to Barnhill with her child. She and Avril were united in dislike of Paul Potts. He left suddenly in the night. At first it was thought it was either because he was told to do so by Avril or because he chanced to see something hurtful about him written by Sally McEwan in a letter (Crick, pp. 512–14). This account was corrected by Sally McEwan and Susan Watson, interviewed by Ian Angus in February 1984. Susan Watson confirmed that Sally McEwan had not left anything hurtful about Paul Potts where he might read it. The reason for Potts’s sudden departure was quite different: there was no newspaper left with which to get the fire started, so Susan Watson used what she took to be scrap paper; unfortunately, this turned out to be a draft of something Potts was writing.

  To Sir Richard Rees*

  5 July 1946

  Barnhill

  Isle of Jura

  Dear Richard,

  Thanks for your letter of the 1st. I have sometimes thought over the point you raise. I don’t know if I would, as it were, get up to the point of having anything biographical written about me, but I suppose it could happen and it’s ghastly to think of some people doing it. All I can say is, use your discretion and if someone seems a B.F., don’t let him see any papers. I am going to include among my personal papers, in case of this happening, some short notes about the main events in my life, chiefly dates and places, because I notice that when people write about you, even people who know you well, they always get that kind of thing wrong. If I should peg out in the next few years, I don’t really think there’ll be a great deal for you to do except deal with publishers over reprints and decide whether or not to keep a few miscellaneous documents. I have named you as literary executor in my will, which has been properly drawn up by a lawyer, and Gwen O’Shaughnessy, who will be Richard’s guardian if anything happens to me, knows all about it. Richard, I hope and trust, is well provided for. I had managed to save a little over the last year or two, and having had this stroke of luck with the American Book of the Month people, I can leave that money untouched, as it is so to speak over and above my ordinary earnings.

  I have been up here since the middle of May and am now well settled in. I haven’t done a stroke of work for two months, only gardening etc. My sister is here and does the cooking, and Susan and Richard came up a few days ago. I suppose I shall have to start work again soon, but I’m not going to do any journalism until October. This is a nice big farmhouse with a bathroom and we are making it quite comfortable. The only real snag here is transport— everything has to be brought over 8 miles of inconceivable road, and I’ve no transport except a motor bike. However it’s only necessary to do the journey once a week, to fetch bread and the rations. We’re well off for food. We get milk in any quantity and a fair amount of eggs and butter from a nearby crofter, our only neighbour within 6 miles, and we catch quantities of fish in the sea and also shoot rabbits. I’ve also got a few geese which we shall eat off by degrees. The house hadn’t been inhabited for 12 years and of course the garden has gone back to wilderness, but I am getting it under by little and little,1 and this autumn I shall put in fruit bushes etc. Getting the house running has cost a bit, but the rent is almost nothing and it’s nice to have a retreat like this to which one can disappear when one likes and not be followed by telephone calls etc. At present it’s about a 2-day journey from London, door to door, but one could do it in a few hours if one flew to the neighbouring island (Islay), which we shall be able to do another time because we shall leave clothes and so forth here. If you’d like to come and stay in for instance September we’d love to have you here. If so let me know and I’ll tell you about how to do the journey.* It isn’t really a very formidable one except that you have to walk the last 8 miles.

  Yours

  Eric

  *P.S. You might find it rather paintable here.2 The colours on the sea are incredible but they change all the time. You could do some studies of real Highland cattle. They’re all over the place, just like in Landseer’s pictures! 3

  [XVIII, 3028, pp. 340–1; typed

  with handwritten postscript]

  1.‘by little and little’ mean
s gradually; ‘He that contemneth small things shall fall by little and little,’ Ecclesiasticus, xix, 1.

  2.Rees was living in Edinburgh at the time and painting. He made several oil paintings at Barnhill including one of Orwell’s bedroom (now in the Orwell Archive, UCL).

  3.Sir Edwin Landseer (1802–1873) was best known for his pictures of dogs and deer; his ‘Monarch of the Glen’ (1851) was highly regarded in its time. Although his pictures have now become more popular, they were less appreciated when Orwell referred to them. He sculpted the lions at the foot of Nelson’s column (1867) in London. Orwell mentions them in Nineteen Eighty-Four, when Winston and Julia meet in Victory Square (p. 120).

  To Yvonne Davet*

  29 July 1946

  Barnhill

  Isle of Jura

  Chère Madame Davet,

  I would, of course, be very pleased if Homage to Catalonia were accepted by M. Charlot.1 If it is, there are several mistakes (typographical errors etc.) which need correcting and which I’ll point out to you. I also think that it would be better to add an introduction by someone (a Spaniard, if possible) who has a good knowledge of Spain and Spanish politics. When the book is reprinted in England, I plan to take out one or perhaps two chapters and put them at the end of the book as an appendix. It specially concerns the chapter giving a detailed picture of the May fighting, with quotations from the newspapers etc. It has a historic value, but it would be tedious for a reader with no special interest in the Spanish Civil War, and it could go at the end without damaging the text.2 As for the title, it would probably be better to alter it. Even in English the title doesn’t mean much. But perhaps you have some thoughts on the subject. I think it’s impossible to choose a title in a foreign language.3

  Unfortunately, I have no novel to give to M. Charlot. Burmese Days, Animal Farm and Coming Up For Air are all being translated,4 and there aren’t any more. That is, I did write two other novels, but I’m not very proud of them, and I made up my mind a long time ago to suppress them. As for the novel I’m beginning now, that will possibly be finished in 1947. I’ve only just started it. For nearly three months I’ve done nothing at all, that is, I’ve written nothing. After years of writing three articles a week, I was dreadfully tired, and I very much needed a long holiday. Here in Scotland we are living in a very primitive fashion, and we’re quite busy shooting rabbits, catching fish etc. to get enough to eat. I’ve just started writing a long article for Polemic,5 and after I’ve finished that, I hope to work on my novel for two months before I go back to London in October. In October I’ll start doing journalism again, but if I’ve written at least a few chapters of the novel I’ll probably be able to finish it sooner or later. The difficult thing is starting a new book when you’re busy for five or six days a week.

  I’m staying here till the beginning of October, or perhaps a few weeks later. After that my address in London will be as usual. The address of my publishers (for Homage to Catalonia) is Messrs. Secker and Warburg Publishers 7 John Street London W.C.1.

  Très amicalement

  Geo. Orwell

  P.S. I enclose a copy of my pamphlet James Burnham and the Managerial Revolution, which first appeared as an article in Polemic with the title ‘Second Thoughts on James Burnham.’ I suppose it is possible that one of the monthlies might think it worth translating.

  [XVIII, 3036, pp. 360–3; typewritten]

  1.Charlot saw the French translation of Homage to Catalonia through the press.

  2.These and other changes listed by Orwell were made for the Collected Works edition, Vol. VI.

  3.The French edition (1955) simply translated the title Homage to Catalonia into French. For the changes made for the French edition, and Orwell’s additional notes, see CW, VI, Textual Note.

  4.The proposed translation of Coming Up for Air may be a reference to La fille de l’air.

  5.‘Politics vs. Literature: An Examination of Gulliver’s Travels’, Polemic, No. 5, September–October 1946 (see XVIII, 3089, pp. 417–32).

  To Lydia Jackson*

  7 August 1946

  Barnhill

  Isle of Jura

  Dear Lydia,

  Thanks for your letter. If you’d like to come up here, there would be room in the house in the second half of August, say any time between the 15th and September 1st. Somebody else is coming on the latter date, I think. [Details about travel: see 16.6.46]1 Try and give me several days° notice, won’t you, so that I can arrange about hiring the car. I think Susan’s little girl is coming up on Friday the 16th, in which case I shall go to Glasgow to meet her, but it’s not certain yet.

  Thanks so much for sending on the boots. We need all the footwear we can get here because of course one is constantly getting wet, especially when we go fishing. Latterly the weather has been foul but whenever it’s decent we go out at night and catch a lot of fish which helps the larder.

  As to the repairs.2 As I am supposed to be the tenant, it might be best if you sent Keep’s bill on to me and let me pay it, and I will then send the receipted bill to Dearman and see what I can get out of him. I don’t suppose we’ll get the whole amount, but anyway we can square up afterwards. I don’t suppose Keep will charge an enormous amount from what I know of him.

  Love to Pat.

  Yours

  Eric

  [XVIII, 3044, pp. 369–70; typewritten]

  1.Orwell also asked Lydia to bring ‘some bread and/or flour’. The shortage of grain for bread grew worse during 1946 (partly because grain was needed for those near starvation in Continental Europe). The wheat content of bread was reduced in March 1946; in April the size of loaves was reduced from 2lbs to 1¾lbs – but the price was not reduced – and there was a 15% cut in grain for brewing beer; in June bread was rationed despite the fact that that had not proved necessary throughout the war. Near the opening of Nineteen Eighty-Four (IX, p. 7) Winston Smith finds he has only ‘a hunk of dark-coloured bread’ to eat but that had to be saved for the next morning’s breakfast. The draft manuscript is even more specific for it is there described as ‘a single slab of bread three centimetres thick’ (Facsimile, p. 15).

  2.The repairs are to The Stores, Wallington, not Barnhill. Mr Dearman was the landlord. (See Shelden, pp. 260–62.) Keep was, presumably, a local builder.

  To Anne Popham*

  7 August 1946

  Barnhill

  Isle of Jura

  Dear Andy,

  You see this time it’s me who delays weeks or is it months before answering. You didn’t have to be so apologetic—I know only too well how difficult it is to answer a letter and how they rise up and smite one day after day.

  I thought over your letter a lot, and I expect you’re right. You’re young and you’ll probably find someone who suits you. Any way° let’s say no more about it.1 I hope I shall see you when I am back in London (probably about October). I heard from Ruth2 about a week ago, as she kindly took in and is looking after some books which were being sent and which I didn’t want to follow me up here. We’re all flourishing here and Richard is beginning to talk a little though he’s still far more interested in doing things with his hands and is becoming very clever with tools. My sister is here and does the cooking, and Susan looks after Richard and looks after the house, while I do the gardening and carpentering. For two months I did no writing at all, then last month I did write an article,3 and I may begin a novel before returning to London but I’m not tying myself down. I had to have a good rest after years of hackwork, and it has done me a lot of good. So far I haven’t even had a cold while here, in spite of getting wet to the skin several times a week. We have to catch or shoot a lot of our food, but I like doing that and as a matter of fact we feed better than one can do in London now. This is a nice big house, and if I can get a long lease which would make it worth while to furnish it more completely and instal an electric light plant, one could make it really comfortable. In any case I’m going to plant fruit trees this autumn and hope I shall be here to get the
benefit of them. It’s also a great treat to be in a place where Richard can run in and out of the house without being in any danger of getting run over. The only danger for him here is snakes, but I kill them whenever I see one anywhere near the house. This winter I shall send him to the nursery school if there is a vacancy.

  Let me hear from you again if you can get round to writing.

  Yours

  George

  [XVIII, 3045, pp. 370–1; typewritten]

  1.For Anne Popham’s reminiscences of this exchange, see Remembering Orwell, pp. 166–67.

  2.Ruth Beresford, who shared the flat in Canonbury Square with Anne Popham immediately below Orwell’s flat.

  3.Possibly ‘Politics vs. Literature’, Polemic (XVIII, 3089, pp. 417–32.)

  To Celia Kirwan*

  17 August 1946

  Barnhill

  Isle of Jura

  Dearest Celia,

  How marvellous of you to get the brandy and send it off on your own initiative. I enclose cheque for £9–15–0. I hope you weren’t put to any other expense about it—if so please let me know.

  I forgot to say, I think one or two of the titles (of pamphlets and so on) in the Swift essay 1 are incorrect, as I was quoting them from memory, but so long as I see a galley proof it will be easy to put this right.

  I am sorry you are pining away in London. It must be lousy being there at this time of year, especially if you have been having such marvellous weather as we have had here for the last week or two. I still haven’t done any work to speak of, there always seems to be so much to do of other kinds, and the journeys one makes are quite astonishing. Susan’s child came up here yesterday, and I was supposed to go to Glasgow to meet her. I set out the day before yesterday morning, but punctured my motor bike on the way and thus missed the boat. I then got a lift first in a lorry, then in a car, and crossed the ferry to the next island in hopes there would be a plane to Glasgow, however the plane was full up, so I took a bus on to Port Ellen, where there would be a boat on Friday morning. Port Ellen was full to the brim owing to a cattle show, all the hotels were full up, so I slept in a cell in the police station along with a lot of other people including a married couple with a perambulator. In the morning I got the boat, picked the child up and brought her back, then we hired a car for the first 20 miles and walked the last five home. This morning I got a lift in a motor boat to where my bike was, mended the puncture and rode home—all this in 3 days. I think we are going to get a motor boat, ie. a boat with an outboard engine, as it is the best way of travelling here when the weather is decent. At present we have only a little rowing boat which is good for fishing but which you can’t go far out to sea in. We go fishing nearly every night, as we are partly dependent on fish for food, and we have also got two lobster pots and catch a certain number of lobsters and crabs. I have now learned how to tie up a lobster’s claws, which you have to do if you are going to keep them alive, but it is very dangerous, especially when you have to do it in the dark. We also have to shoot rabbits when the larder gets low, and grow vegetables, though of course I haven’t been here long enough to get much return from the ground yet, as it was simply a jungle when I got here. With all this you can imagine that I don’t do much work—however I have actually begun my new book and hope to have done four or five chapters by the time I come back in October. I am glad Humphrey 2 has been getting on with his—I wonder how The Heretics 3 sold? I saw Norman Collins 4 gave it rather a snooty review in the Observer.