by C. S. Lewis
Coghill came for dinner. He told me what Gertrude Stein’s ‘gift of repartee’ (as the Mag. calls it) was really like at the meeting in her honour the other night. Cecil of Wadham rose to ask her what she meant by the same things being ‘absolutely identical and absolutely different’ to which Stein (she is a dowdy American) replied ‘Wall, you and the man next you are abso-o-lute-ly identical the way you both jump up to ask questions, but abs-o-lute-ly different in character.’56 This nonsense was greeted with rounds of approving laughter by the crowd.
After coffee we came over here and were joined by Yorke and later by Hardie. We all read our Eliotic poems and discussed plans of campaign. Coghill thought that if we succeeded it would always be open to Eliot to say that we had meant the poems seriously and afterwards pretended they were parodies: his answer to this was to make them acrostics and the ones he had composed read downwards ‘Sham poetry pays the world in its own coin, paper money.’
Then came the brilliant idea that we should be a brother and sister, Rollo and Bridget Considine. Bridget is the elder and they are united by an affection so tender as to be almost incestuous. Bridget will presently write a letter to Eliot (if we get a foothold) telling him about her own and her brother’s life. She is incredibly dowdy and about thirty five. We rolled in laughter as we pictured a tea party where the Considines meet Eliot: Yorke wd. dress up for Bridget and perhaps bring a baby. We selected as our first shot, my ‘Nidhogg’ (by Rollo) and Hardie’s ‘Conversation’ and Yorke’s ‘Sunday’ (by Bridget). They are to be sent from Vienna where Hardie has a friend. We think Vienna will decrease suspicion and is also a likely place for the Considines to live in.
Our meeting broke up about 12. Hardie and Coghill are in it for pure fun, I for burning indignation, Yorke chiefly for love of mischief. Went to bed, feeling for some reason very nervy and worn out—perhaps this morning’s dream, or perhaps the exhaustion of so much laughter.
Wednesday 16 June: Corrected proofs all morning till 12 o’clock and made (I hope) some good corrections. Feeling very stale and shaky and beginning to develop a cough. At 12 came Hamilton and Hetherington on Berkeley: we had a most lively and obstinate discussion which lasted till 1.30.
Bussed home. Poor D seemed tired and depressed. Dotty is out all day and every day this week wh. means that D has to spend two hours or so every evening making up four picnic meals. It enrages me. Took Pat a short walk down Cuckoo Lane and home for an early tea. More proofs today and a letter (not from Pocock) to warn me that I shall have no opportunity of making second corrections for the American edition.
Back to College, thence through the Grove where I saw the O.U.D.S. rehearsing Midsummer Night’s Dream and out to L.M.H. Miss Colborne was away, Miss Scoones surprisingly dull, and the paper read by the lumpy Miss Grant. The hour was a failure and I am rather ashamed of getting a pound for it.
Back to College where I began correcting the new Proofs. Yorke came in with two new and excellent Bridget poems.
Dressed and went to Univ. at 7.45 for the Greats dinner. Sat next to Campbell who is still a great admirer of T. S. Eliot tho’ he has transferred some of his admiration to Gertrude Stein. I asked him if he had heard of the Considines—a brother and sister, I believed, who lived in Vienna and wrote remarkable stuff: but I doubted if any of it appeared in England. He hadn’t heard but was quite interested.57
After dinner I had talk with Cox58 and also with Henderson, who is going to the Sudan. He is a splendid fellow, a ‘sound man’ who would delight the ‘hearty’, a very tolerable philosopher, a wide and enthusiastic reader of books old and new, a fine athlete, an authority (almost) on sculpture, and without the slightest taint of brilliance, just wise and normal and fully developed in all directions. He has all the virtues of a regular subaltern, a country gentleman, and an aesthete, with the faults of none of them. This is the best thing Oxford does.59 . . .
Friday–Tuesday 18–22 June: My cold was heavy and I was thick headed during the week end. On Friday came a selection of covers from Dents for ‘Dymer’, sent for my remarks. So far they are certainly a pleasanter house than Heinemann’s to deal with. Dined in and went into Common Room where the talk turned on schooldays and boyhood in general. Nearly all joined in exploding the myth of happy childhood: we are all conscious of being much better off as we are. Read John Buchan’s Path of the King afterwards and went early to bed feeling very poorly.
Spent an idle and headachy morning on Saturday and sent off the last gallies of ‘Dymer’. At 2 o’clock went to the Schools to invigilate, first with Miss Spens (who wants me to take some of my L.M.H. people for ordinary tuition in 19th Century. I shelved.), and then with Miss Wardale. It was very hot, my cold bad, and a long three hours . . .
Back to College by 5.15 and had some tea in the smoking room. Bussed home—for the Vac—taking Conrad’s Lord Jim. It wd. have been pleasant thus coming out home after the term and a beastly day, if I had been feeling at all well. Went to bed immediately after supper and stayed there all Sunday. Read Lord Jim, a great novel, especially Marlow’s conversation with Stein, and the whole picture of Stein, where the incredible is made convincing. But alas, philosophy spoils one for all these literary ‘reflections on life’ except in Wordsworth, Meredith, MacDonald and a few more . . .
Could not get up till midday on Monday as Griffin had not brought out my luggage from College. Corrected revised proofs (which came on Saturday) of ‘Dymer’ I, 1–30. Sat in the garden most of the afternoon reading Wells’s Modern Utopia: fairly good but—ugh! No dogs, no windows in your bedroom, and practically the whole world full of scattered villas. He also thinks he has ‘discovered uniqueness’ by reading Bosanquet, which is a pity.
Took Pat for a short stroll after tea and drank some stout in Old Headington. Early to bed. It is very pleasant to be at home and D and I rejoice to have the house rid of the Dotties and the Valeries . . .
Wednesday 23 June: Up very late feeling more fit than I have done for some time. Sat in in the morning, finished re-reading Trollope’s Warden (I had forgotten how good it was) and read The Times. Also wrote a longish letter to Pasley. I have practically nothing in common with him now and it did not come easily, but one must, of pure charity, write to a poor devil of an educated man isolated in Indian society.
The prospect of dining with the Warrens tonight and meeting Sir James Craig (I was afraid I might be let in for home politics & get entangled in my talk) cast rather a shadow over the day,60 and when D discovered that so far I had only £300 odd from College, and suspected that the whole thing ‘was a do’ and ruled that I must see Thompson at once and find out everything, I began to look forward to a really bad afternoon and evening . . .
The dinner, tho nothing brilliant in the food line, was quite pleasant. I took in Mrs James Murrell who was quite easy to talk to as we disagreed about everything, specially public schools and the services. She thinks me a horrid crank. On my left I had Mrs Pickard-Cambridge, a woman of a fine old fashioned dignity, whom I liked.
In the port period after the ladies had cleared off, conversation turned entirely on University politics which was rather dull for Sir James. I had no conversation with him: he seems a little bit uncouth. Got away about 10.35 after a few moments conversation with Lady Craig and quite a long talk with Mrs Webb about animals. She is nice.
Watched the O.U.D.S. from the grass between cloisters and New Building for a few minutes in company with Benecke and then walked home in the bright moonlight. The others were in bed when I got back.
Thursday 24 June: Up rather late and into College . . . I spent the morning on Raleigh’s preface to Hoby. I also left instructions with the librarian to find me Patrizi, who is wrongly catalogued, and went up into the Founder’s Tower to get Erasmus’ Institutio Regis Christiani, both being mentioned by the D.N.B. as sources for Elyot’s Governour. From the silent sun-and-dust book rooms in the tower I went up and out upon the leads to enjoy for a moment some jumbled and foreshortened views of the College.
Comin
g back to the Library I was pleasantly surprised by Jenkin who had come up to take his M.A. We arranged to meet at 7.30 . . . Went to Merton Street and found Jenkin in his old digs. The very pictures on his walls were full of pleasant memories. We had supper together at the George, in great contentment. He is engaged on four or five different small jobs, including an effort to raise money for Exeter University, wh. involves a lot of touring in the West country and expenses paid. He has written a book (on the mining business in Cornwall) which is now in the hands of some agency. He is also going to see a specialist: not, I gather, that his health is any worse than it has always been, but as he says ‘I had made up my mind to it—to live on that basis—but people have advised me to make one bid for better health and then, if I like, settle down to it.’ We went to Magdalen where we sat till 10.30 when I caught the last bus. He has not changed, and we had a fine talk. Home by moonlight, ate a saucer of strawberries and cream and went to bed.
Friday 25 June: Up to the back room after breakfast and did a little more work on my paper. At about 11 I went in to College and found a note from Benecke in the lodge saying that the fellowship meeting at 12 was still on.
Went to Hardie’s room and read with him Yorke’s new Bridget poem. It is about a dentist’s waiting room and rather good.
We were joined unexpectedly by Lawson (I didn’t know that he knew Hardie) and later by one Fordyce. At 12 we repaired to the New Room and met the President, Benecke, Driver, and Weldon. The meeting was very silly and there was needless revision of most papers leading to an unholy hash wh. is going to be finally set. A particularly bad essay subject of Benecke’s on the rights of minorities was approved—bad, because only philosophers can really say anything about it. The great triumph was the philosophy paper by Weldon, Hardie and myself. We three sat tight during five minutes pregnant silence while the others looked very wise and finally passed it without alteration.
Got away at 1.10 and hurried to the Good Luck to lunch with Jenkin: afterwards we sat in the garden of the Union. We had a rambling and effortless conversation of the most profitable sort.
Home by three and went on with my paper, till I got myself tied up. I began to see unexpected difficulties. After tea I walked in the fields towards Forest Hill, neglecting a beautiful coloured evening in favour of idle Christina dreams about refuting Eliot and Stein. Returned in a dissatisfied mood and began to re-read MacDonald’s Lilith.
After supper I went back to College . . . Went into the smoking room, had a cup of coffee, talked and read in the T.L.S. the review of a new long poem published by Heinemanns. How bitter this wd. be if Dent’s had not taken ‘Dymer’! It is called Two Lives, by one Leonard, and sounds almost great in quotation though the reviewer is not very favourable . . .
Sunday 27 June: Up to the back room after breakfast to write. My idea was to begin the new poem with an account of an old landlady sitting in the basement: then to the ground floor where we should have the ‘swallow’ man: then to old Foster on the first floor.
D came up to ‘do washing’ and I found that the quiet of College has nearly robbed me of my old power of working in a bustle. It was impossible to go downstairs as Maureen’s piano playing there made poetry out of the question. Poor D had difficulties with the washing and was moving about and in and out of the room till 12 o’clock, by wh. time I was rather fidgeted. As soon as I began to get going, I was called down to lunch. After lunch and washing up I renewed the attempt, but what was intended to be a mere exhortation to the reader to use his imagination turned itself into long reams of philosophical gas, quite irrelevant and very mediocre . . .
Monday 28 June: In to College in the morning. I found Hardie on one of the seats in front of New Building sunning himself. We drifted into conversation and agreed to have a game of bowls—Wrong having presented us with a set. We played on the grass in cloisters, much to the interest of tourists, and were presently joined by Thompson and Weldon. I have seldom been anywhere more beautiful. About a quarter of the quadrangle was in shadow—a deep, sharp shadow, ending in the shapes of battlements: the rest was still faintly grey for the dew was not quite dried: overhead was the Tower, enormous and dazzlingly bright, occasionally striking the quarters and the hours, and beyond it a blazing blue sky with huge white clouds, twisted and swelled into every lavish shape you could ask for. Then there was the pleasant noise of the bowls and now and then cool, echoing sounds in the cloisters themselves.
I saw Segar for a minute or two and he is disposed to consider dividing the house in Merton Street. Home and worked till tea time. Played badminton with Maureen, had a bath and a walk, down beyond the cemetery. The swampy places are actually dry at last. Read Dauber in the evening. It’s as great as ever but Lord!, how incredibly bad in single lines and stanzas. To bed early and lay awake till 12.30
Tuesday 29 June: Went in to College after breakfast and to Wrong’s beautiful house over the weir. I asked him about the house (belonging to College) in Merton St., and he sent me to Carter. We had thought of trying to share it with Segar if Raymond turns us out of this. Carter was out and I saw Teden who told me that it was inhabited and that I shd. go and ask the tenant to show me over. I bussed home and returned with D to Merton St., where, after a wait of course, we were met by Maureen. A fat, amiable and vulgar woman showed us over the house. The stairs make it impossible for D and it would be hard to divide between two families: also there is no garden to speak of. The view from its back windows, over gardens and cedar trees to Magdalen Tower and beyond to Headington Hill, struck us all . . .
Read Dauber again in the evening and got some vivid impressions, giving me a good realistic shock to counterbalance my growing idealism in metaphysics. All the part about the wind from the Pole drives home the sense of ‘an other’ . . .
Wednesday 30 June: Spent the morning working on Hoby’s Courtyer, besides writing a stanza. After lunch, deciding to get at least one beastly job off my chest, I changed and went in at 3.30 to pay my dinner call on Lady Warren. I found Price and Hardie playing bowls and talked with them for a while. Thanks to heaven Lady W was out. Bought a copy of the Forsyte Saga and came home.
After tea I walked over the fields towards Forest Hill—frightfully hot but beautiful colours. Maureen came in at supper in great indignation about Miss Woods having introduced some very vulgar people—the Franklins—at the tennis club. After supper D and she went round to see the Disneys about it. As these fools have started a club without any arrangements about the election of new members, they have only themselves to thank. I wrote to Carter, moved by this, to ask if I could get Maureen one of the College courts during the Vac. There’s one more beastly job over . . .
Thursday 1 July: In to College by 9.30 to consult Thompson (at D’s instance) and find out what is still coming to me. Everyone was at breakfast when I arrived. After sitting for some minutes in the smoking room I saw Thompson and also Carter. Apparently, after all deductions have been made, I still have only about £55 to come. It was less than I expected and I rather dreaded bringing the news home.
Went to the Union where I read Chesterton’s Bernard Shaw and came home about 1. D seemed to consider the £55 all right. I hope that business is now over. Spent a lazy afternoon finishing Chesterton and the Merry Wives in the garden. Mrs Wilbraham and Miss Blaxland came for tea and we had a four at badminton. Afterwards D, who had never tried the game, decided to begin it and I initiated her. Then bath, walk and beer. After supper another game with D who gets on very well. To bed about twelve.
Friday 2 July: . . . After supper all three of us played badminton, and then D went to see old Knight who is suffering pretty badly from sciatica. I came up to the back room again and wrote a little more, with great difficulty. Listened in to ‘How beautiful they are’ from the Immortal Hour, my first taste of that work. I was not greatly impressed but it turned my mind to the Celtic atmosphere and I read a little of Yeats’ Wanderings of Oisin. It is ages since I looked at it and I wondered how I could ever have thought i
t anything more than mildly pleasant: it is far below Morris . . .
Saturday 3 July: Woke up at 4.30 from a nightmare about a formidable person suddenly coming in through the window of the little end room at home and saying ‘Now then, Guv’nor, what are you doing here?’ There was more in it which I have forgotten.
News today that Dotty and her father are coming to Oxford next week and she proposes to stay here, wh. doesn’t please me much and D still less. Finished Hoby in the morning and worked a little on ‘Sigrid’.
At tea time (in the garden) came a letter from Carter saying that Maureen could have a court—and that it would cost four pounds for the Vac. This was rather a shock to the others, and poor D was much distressed. I said ‘If you don’t mind making me ask for these things, which I hate, why should you bother about the money which doesn’t worry me?’—a churlish and useless remark which I afterwards regretted.
I then took Pat down to Parson’s Pleasure to bathe, but found a notice ‘no dogs admitted’—an innovation quite sensible in itself but a knock out for me as it means I shall never be able to bathe except on those rare occasions when I have time both to go to Parson’s Pleasure and then to take Pat for a separate walk . . .
Sunday 4 July: Went down to Parson’s Pleasure after breakfast alone and sat under a tree reading Citizen of the World.61 It was a cloudy morning with a breeze, not very hot. Diz was there and persuaded the man to keep Juno (the Alsatian, a beauty) in the office. Wished I had known the trick yesterday. I bathed at about 12.15, my first bathe this year, and did little more than swim twice up and down.
Walked home. It settled down to a steady rain which we need badly and which was pleasant both to hear and see as D and I sat in the dining room after lunch with the garden door open. It had its usual effect in bringing out all sorts of bird noises that one hadn’t noticed for the last few days. After tea I took Pat for his walk and got the only fine interval. I went up the crab-apple road to the stile and back to Barton over the fields. The streams were muddied, the birds chuckling, and a fine, wet-weather smell everywhere.