Philip Larkin Read online

  You know, reading your letters through, I am coming to the conclusion that you have a powerful style! You sound utterly detached, cold, impersonal: as if you were writing in an old farmhouse on a windy and stone littered moor, far from any human noise or movement. Only the wind answers your sentences: “I find that the days go rapidly by and I have not answered your last letter”; “I am sorry you have a cold and can offer no remedy”; “You are none the worse for knowing nothing about the war. We don’t either”; “It is usual to put Mr. or even ‘Esq.’ in case of public officials”. Then you fold the parchment, seal it with the old heirloom of a seal, and put it for the carrier to take when he calls in two days’ time. Then you sink into your austere, wooden chair by the fire and listen to the wind around the high chimney pots or watch the racing clouds through the tall windows.

  I hope you see what I mean by all this!

  Well, I want to do some work before I attend Prof. Wyld’s lecture at 11.0. He is the dictionary man, actually.2 His dictionary is going in Blackwell’s for 11/-. So I will close this epistle which I fear isn’t very cheerful. I am more or less College Secretary of the English Club, by the way. […]

  With all love

  Philip

  PS “New Verse” still struck dumb with admiration.

  P2S Am hearing Clifford Bax3 at English Club tonight.

  P3S Hughes asks me to thank you for the £6 for fees he received. I suppose you [know] nothing about this.4

  1 The Oxford guide to statutes and regulations.

  2 Henry Cecil Wyld, author of The Universal Dictionary of the English Language (1932).

  3 Clifford Bax (1886–1962): playwright, journalist, poet and hymn writer; brother of the composer Arnold Bax.

  4 An arch joke, implying that Sydney had been paying his room-mate for reporting back on Philip’s behaviour.

  18 November 1940

  S John’s College, Oxford

  Dear fambly,

  This letter is addressed primarily to Pop, but I don’t know where he will be when this is due to be delivered. I am addressing it to Lichfield.

  First, I was tremendously relieved to know that you were safe. While you had the bombings, fires, rescue parties & all the rest of the grim trappings of air raids,1 we up here merely had the unpleasant rumours, the horrific newspaper, & the lack of news. We heard of the raid at lunchtime on Friday: we immediately sent telegrams off to Coventry but this was patently futile. Roe & Dupénois went down on Saturday.

  By Saturday dinner time I hadn’t any news so I sent another telegram to Lichfield. Smith was going down on Sunday by train, so Hughes & I decided to go down as well, if no news awaited us on Sunday morning. It didn’t: so, with our warmest clothes on (& me with my beret), we started stopping cars on the Banbury Road outside College at 9.0 am Sunday morning. By noon we were dropped at Stoneleigh Avenue. We tried Penvorn first, but no one was at home, although we deduced from the fact that the windows were sealed up that someone (probably Pop) had been there & that Pop was probably alive. No one seemed in at Barnes’,2 Williams’, or Snape’s, & the maid at Bass’s3 didn’t know where you were. Nor did a policeman of whom we inquired.

  Next we tried Hughes’ house in Churchill Avenue. We had to get to Foleshill via Gulson Road & Stoney Stanton Rd., over Stoke Common & back into Foleshill. We couldn’t go within a mile of the City Centre because they were dynamiting it. We heard the blasting all afternoon. Hughes’ house was standing but empty: however, we got some bread & cheese at a neighbouring house, & then visited the Riders’. From these sources we gained some impression of the chaotic state of things.

  This brought us to about 3.15 pm & although we had leave to stay a night away from College we decided that as there was no point in staying we had better get out of the way. We had arranged with a lorry-driver who brought us from outside Banbury to Kenilworth that we should be in Kenilworth at 5.0 p.m. It was quite impossible: we couldn’t get back across the town in time. So we got a lift to somewhere in Radford, & then picked up a crazy lorry trying to find the Birmingham Road. We piled in (I was clinging onto the running board) & got as far as Stonebridge, where we stopped & waited for the lorry which was due to return from Castle Bromwich. Luckily it came & we got back to College by 7.15 – just in time for dinner, with an individual outlay of about 3/- each. Your telegram4 made the day a success, & I was able to hold forth to an astonished commoners’ table – “By God … Just back from Coventry … What a sight … pass the peas … any factories hit? … Ha, ha! … all be out of production for a month … blowing up the city … streets full of broken glass … pass the potatoes … no gas … all candles … no electricity – can’t hear the news on the wireless – absolutely no communications … bread, please … getting water from shellholes … danger of typhoid … all clocks either stopped or wrong …” and so on. We afterwards repeated the performance in Exeter J.C.R. where we met Burgess – the only O.C. who hasn’t been to see for himself. It is possible that he too, will go down soon.5

  In this letter I will acknowledge Pop’s letter of the 13th & Mop’s (undated) posted on the 12th. The tension of awaiting news increased my Bibliomania & I bought the Muse’s library Blake (2/-), Max Plowman’s “An Introduction to Blake” (3/-), the Mermaid “Dekker” (2/-) & Sweet’s “Anglo Saxon Primer” (-/6). All these were, of course, secondhand. Blake, by the way, I regard as a coming poet. You probably know that Donne is the fashion today: – nearly everybody has the Nonesuch Donne (as well as corduroy trousers) – but I think that Blake really ought to receive more notice than he does. Do you know anything about him? He seems a man after your own heart. Lit his own fires & cleaned his own boots.

  There have been no bombs on Oxford yet, though some do fall around the outskirts. We had a harmless five-hour warning on Friday.

  Remarks to Mop: No marmite yet. We subsist on weird & peculiar pots of fishpaste (2 for 5½d) in all flavours. Anchovy is the favourite.

  I should like to see you but why must you go to such an unpronounceable place like Lichfield? About the most difficult town in the British Isles to ask for! Quite impossible for me, anyway.6

  As you say, we do not know there is a war on. Not at all. I broke the handle from a tea-cup the other day, unfortunately. This is the first breakage of any sort we have had. We lost the strainer the other day, but on questioning the Scout found it had only been mislaid. It is still the best thing we have. Breakfast is in Hall. Sometimes we go without – just don’t get up.

  The calendar would be a very good idea. No, I don’t want another Shakespeare one. Any other author will do bar the Bible & Milton. Blake of course if possible but I don’t suppose such things exist.

  Well, I must close now for I have to get to a lecture in 15 minutes time.

  Very much love to both –

  Philip

  1 During the night of 14/15 November 554 were killed in Coventry, and a thousand injured. Sydney was in the Council House which was hit by two bombs and several incendiaries.

  2 Reading conjectural.

  3 Conjectural; possibly the same name as that earlier in the sentence.

  4 ‘Am quite safe. Daddy.’ 17 November 1940. Hull History Centre, U DLN/1/32.

  5 Hughes gave his own account of this visit to Coventry: ‘Going Home with Larkin’, London Magazine (April/May 1989), 115–19.

  6 Because of his stammer.

  23 November 19401

  St John’s College

  Dear Katherine,

  From the lawned quads of Oxford the sky is blue, slim clouds tinged salmon by the low sun in the east. Smoke rises from the chimneys and birds argue in the college garden. General morning peace presides over all.

  Therefore I was unpleasantly surprised to hear of your acquaintance with a landmine. I supposed one of the “four Midland towns” raided last Tuesday was Leicester, but I still hoped they might be B’ham, Cov., Northampton & Rugby or something like
that. Anyway, I’m very sorry to hear you are disturbed from your home of rest. I’m getting the positive jitters about air raids – all you beasts will be as cool as cucumbers (“Can that have been more than 50 yards away, do you think?”) while I shall be a gibbering maniac. […]

  ———

  Roe appealed yesterday at London: his appeal was upheld & he is registered if he does A.R.P. work.2 This he is already doing.

  We were all very worried by Thursday’s raid, & having received no news by Sunday, on that day Hughes & I hitchhiked down to ye old place via about four private cars & a lorry. Found nobody there, of course: the streets miry with brickdust & water from hoses & so on. You probably know all about it. At length we picked up a lorry going [to] Oxford at Stonebridge and got home just in time for dinner. Cheap excursion.

  Yesterday I bought some rather nice Christmas cards (12). There are some good shops here for that sort of thing. You know, I should like to see you here before term ends if only for a few hours. I think you’d find the place very interesting.

  The poem – ha! Swine, God knows when the lice will print it. I’ve half a mind to write them a stiff letter about it. Ages ago too I sent four poems to “New Verse” which have still not come back. Also I met Michael Meyer (editor of Univ. magazine “The Cherwell”) who genially invited me to “send something along”. This I have done but nothing has come of it. Poetry don’t seem to catch here and now. Apes asses & dogs. Goats & monkeys.3

  The promised weather has gone away from here: against a grey sky the sombre back of Trinity College rises. Smoke drifts away on the ruffling wind. Farther out, across the university park and over the swift river, the playing fields wait for the games of this afternoon; through the unecstatic street the gowned bicycles are whirling.

  I pick up some books and climb to the College library.

  Philip

  1 Addressed to Miss C. E. Larkin, c/o Mrs H. C. Page, 719 Loughborough Road, Birstall, Leicester.

  2 As a conscientious objector.

  3 Othello, Act IV, scene 1.

  12 December 19401

  33 Cherry Orchard, Lichfield2

  Dear Katharine, (honestly don’t you think this is the best spelling?)3

  I picked up your last letter from Leicester at Coventry on Tuesday. It arrived as I did. I came down earlier than expected – on Saturday – & had one big hell of a journey, arriving after dark and mumbling to passers-by “Am I right for Cherry Orchard?” Anyway, I’m here now, sleeping & reading (& writing this) at Mrs Cope’s, 9 Sturgeon’s Hill, and eating & generally seeing human faces at 33, C.O. A fairly satisfactory arrangement. At first I didn’t like being here at all. I missed the talk & the books and the general air of carelessness that is so congenial at Oxford. I missed Jim’s conversation & huge belches. Roe’s face round the door & playing poker, even Smith’s absurd conceit. I missed the little things that make you feel such a man, like the College scouts, & the loud meals in Hall. Now I still miss them but not so much. War does not suit me. I was made for peace. It will be interesting to see how I turn out.

  You will have my tie by now, I suppose. I like ’em subtle, sister.4 Wheel ’em in and lay ’em out. Lichfield is a hole for shopping, as you from Leicester and I from Oxford realise or will realise. But for Peace and Quiet, Incorporated, it’s fine. I shall sink into a primeval slime.

  Since I left Coventry – on October 9th – I have had my hair cut once.

  I went to Coventry on Tuesday, returning Wednesday p.m. Nearly sick at Nuneaton! I was carrying two enormous greasy sausage rolls (you never [–] sausage rolls – woe hoe hoe) in a bag, & I hurriedly tipped them out loose into my pocket and held the bag at the ready. As the ’bus started off again I gave two enormous hiccups & felt comparatively all right for the rest of the journey. Near thing, though.

  Coventry looked queer. Not terrible – at least not to me. It looked like some big government clearance scheme to me – except that it seemed done rather carelessly. I do hope they never have another raid like it. Went one or two of my old walks. I can’t help wondering if I – or any of us – shall ever live again in Coventry. Pop was cheery. We dossed at Marshall’s.5

  Well, I expect you’ll be shambling along to see me soon. I’ve quite forgotten what your voice sounds like. You won’t find things much changed here – unless I am a little more insufferably big-headed.

  Thoombs oop & we’ll beat Jerry yet –

  Philip

  1 Addressed to Miss C. E. Larkin, c/o Mrs H. C. Page, 719 Loughborough Road, Birstall, Leicester.

  2 Home of Sydney’s brother Alfred, where the family had taken refuge.

  3 Philip addresses his sister Catherine variously as ‘Katherine’, ‘Katharine’, ‘Kathryn’, ‘Kath’, ‘K’, ‘Kit’ and ‘Kitty’. Often the writing on the envelopes addressed to her is mannered and florid, as was hers.

  4 He had asked Kitty to buy him a shantung silk tie for Christmas.

  5 Dr Arthur Hedley Marshall (1904–94), Sydney Larkin’s deputy and successor as City Treasurer of Coventry (1944–64). Obituary: http://www.independent.co.uk/news/people/obituary-hedley-marshall-1410193.html.

  1941

  19 January 1941

  St John’s College, Oxford

  Dear Pop,

  Enclosed find Battels, to be paid by cheque before Friday, January 31st 1941. Hughes’ were £58.7.9 & I haven’t spent so much as I thought.

  Oxford remains much as usual. At present I have a slight cold which I am doing my best to disbelieve in: snow is deep on the ground, just turning to slush. My pipe broke – Heaven only knows how – someone must have trodden on it – & I have replaced it by which I am told fits my face very well.

  Today is the first day of term and the president is to address us on A.R.P. duties at 11 am. I hope this only refers to firewatching which I understand is to be compulsory this term. When there’s a warning at night some poor fool has to shamble up to the tower and watch for firebombs till he freezes. Then they send somebody else up. Doesn’t sound very nice to me. […]

  Jim is here and flourishing in a purplish sports coat and an orange polo-sweater. Looks all right. My parcel arrived safely on Friday afternoon & I am well set up now.

  The O.T.C. sent me a form demanding size of boots! I have disregarded this because I don’t belong to the O.T.C. though they may think I do. Blast ’em, anyway.

  I don’t know Kitty’s address or Mop’s, if she has gone. Send me latest details from the front. I must attempt to work now.

  Your Affec. S.

  Philip

  22 January 1941

  S John’s College, Oxford

  Dear Mop,

  Thank you for your letter. I hadn’t the least idea where you were – even whether you’d left Coventry or not: but I hope that wherever you are you are well & cheerful.1 (By the way, why read “Way of all Flesh”?2 Awfully gloomy.)

  Well, ye olde university is looking much the same, except for the nasty shock it received yesterday about calling up the 19s. Everybody is very annoyed and worried by this, and it seems likely that when the calling up takes its full effect Oxford may close down. Everybody is cursing the war like hell. […]

  No, I don’t get much exercise, but I get the hell of a lot of fresh air. I spend most of my time going from place to place & room to room and it all entails breathing that strange & alien body known as “fresh air.” Actually I never have much time to crouch over fires.

  I hope you can read all this. I bought some brown ink as you see & a pen to use it with. The pen doesn’t suit my hand at all (as you can see).

  I am definitely S. John’s College Secretary of the English Club! This gives one a pleasing sense of importance. I have just put up a notice on the college board signed “P. A. Larkin (Coll. Sec.)” in two inks. I have roped in several members & can find more, I think. Pity all this has to stop.

  Well, I must shut up now and attempt some Anglo Saxon. Horrible! Bone has a chill – haven’t had a tutorial yet – but I shall have 2 per
week.

  Give me Kitty’s address – I don’t know it.

  Your affectionate but uneasy son,

  Philip

  1 The letter is addressed to Mrs Sydney Larkin, ‘Wear Giffard’, Cliff Hill, Warwick.

  2 Semi-autobiographical novel by Samuel Butler, published in 1903.

  24 January 19411

  S John’s College, Oxford

  Dear Katharine,

  [Excuse (a) this ink.

  (b) this penknib, I’ll change it if it gets too awful.]2

  Thanks for your letter. As Jim once said “Your letter was marvellous, with just enough compliments to make it appear great.” Anyway, very much appreciated in these literally dark mornings.

  Oxford is all right at present. I have gained 2 offices – Coll. Sec. of English Club and Coll. Agent of “Cherwell”: both jobs vaguely disquieting. John’s remains much as before: several new freshmen who all look far brainier than I do. I am beginning Anglo Saxon – it’s impossible. I can never pass an exam in it in 7 weeks. Mad! The only bit I know at present is “Heofane rice ist ge-lic” which means “the kingdom of heaven is like …” Even there the accents are probably all wrong. Mad! German is very slight help.