[No surviving envelope]
Letter 17.
I write this week as usual, though it is so long since I have had a word from you that, in spite of all allowances for distance and the delay of the change, recovery from the fatigue etc. I am beginning to be rather alarmed: but I do not like to worry you by cabling at this juncture, so I shall wait another week and try to be patient. I do hope that Grand Manan is proving to be what you hoped of it, and that your house is comfortable and the people congenial. I should expect it to be very very solitary at this time of year.
YesterdaySecond World WarNorth African campaign;d4 the church bells were rung, for the first time since the war,1 and I thought of Campden on Sunday morning. There has naturally been a great revival of cheerfulness (exceptingFaber, Annfiancé's death;a8 for some individuals: AnneWatt, Alankilled in North Africa;a1 [sc. Ann] Faber’s fiancé was killed early in these operations, just as she had had a letter from him expressing the hope of getting a period of leave within a reasonable future)2 but the general temper remains admirably sober everywhere – everyone is prepared for further stages of deadlock and difficulty – but if, we say, there are no unwanted reverses anywhere, two years may see us through. But the news have [sic] been a great help, and the war which seemed in danger of falling apart into two wars, one in the East and one in the West, has become one war again.
I have for the third time in succession to spend three nights in town: I hope, after this, that I may be able to spend three nights and two nights alternately, as the difference between three and four consecutive days of writing in the country, is considerable. TheFabers, themove into 23 Russell Square;f3 Fabers, as I may have said, are in town the same nights as myself. TheFaber and Faber (F&F)fire-watching duties at;e6 fire-watching is not, under present conditions, very arduous: indeed, in my first experience of it – and it means no more than getting up at 2.30 and staying up until 4.30 – the watcher who was supposed to call me must have dropped off to sleep – I waked of myself at 3.30 – and gave the young lady whom I had to call an extra three quarters of an hour’s sleep as her share. But I must see that this does not happen again. The flat is beautifully warmed by central heating, so that there is no need to take a chill.
LittleLittle Giddingpublished;c1 Gidding appears this week.3 IChoice of Kipling's Verse, Asent to EH;a9 have finally got a supply of Kipling, and have despatched some: yours I sent to Commonwealth Avenue – expeditions of that kind are often so slow that I feared it might not reach Grand Manan until after you left, or only in time to burden your luggage. This is a time of year, from the middle of November to January, which I wish to pass quickly.
1.The bells were rung in celebration of the victory at El Alamein. Since the summer of 1940 it had been forbidden to ring church bells for any reason, except as a warning signal that a German invasion had begun.
2.AlanWatt, Alandescribed to JDH;a2n Watt was son of Geoffrey Faber’s contemporary and friend, the literary agent William (‘Bill’) Watt.
TSE to Hayward, 16 Nov. 1942: ‘Anne [sc. Ann] Faber’s fiancé, Alan Watt, has been killed in Egypt. A nice lad, who would no doubt have been a double Blue if he had ever got there; but having been superannuated at Rugby without ever (I believe) reaching the sixth form, was judged fit to be a literary agent – though eventually, I believe, intended for a family brewery in Cambs. (Fordham’s Ales) where he would have lived a quiet unambitious life with plenty of time off for shooting.’
SeeRidler, Anne (née Bradby)writes letter of condolence to GCF;b5n too Anne Ridler to Geoffrey Faber, 22 Mar. 1943: ‘I wanted to say, first, how very sorry I was to see of Alan Watt’s death. I have thought often of poor Ann, with her hopes cut off before they could be fulfilled; but I know that it must be a personal loss to you too, & the general rejoicing after El Alamein must have seemed bitter. It was very hard that he should have come safely through Dunkirk & through a wound in the summer, to fall then’ (Faber Archive E3/41/1).
3.Little Gidding (16,775 copies) was eventually to be published on 1 Dec. 1942.
AnnFaber, Ann Faber (1922–78) was born and registered in Hampshire: her mother would teasingly refer to her as a ‘Hampshire hog’. She was a boarder at Downe House School, Berkshire, and read history at Somerville College, Oxford (where she became engaged to Alan Watt, who was to be killed at El Alamein). After Oxford, she spent time with the Wrens in Liverpool. Following her military service Ann was employed as secretary by the classical scholar Gilbert Murray in Oxford. She then moved to London where she worked for the family firm in editorial and publicity, as well as writing and publishing a novel of her own, The Imago. However, in Aug. 1952 she suffered a life-changing accident when she crashed her motorcycle, which resulted in the loss of the use of her left arm. (In the mid-1960s she was still doing a little freelance work for Faber, reading manuscripts for Charles Monteith and – in 1967 – arranging a lunch party at her home for the science fiction writers James Blish and Brian Aldiss and their wives.) In Apr. 1958 she married John Corlett, who had two children – Anthony and Brione – from his first marriage, which had ended in divorce. Ann and John did not have children of their own. In the early to mid-1960s Ann and John spent some weeks or months of most years in the West Indies. John had launched and Ann helped with a business called Inter-Continental Air Guides: their firm sold advertising space to hotels and other tourist destinations for inclusion in guidebooks which Ann compiled. In 1966 Ann and John moved from their flat in Highgate to Wiltshire. In the late 1960s or early 1970s John contracted polio while on a work trip to Hong Kong. He became a paraplegic and for the remainder of Ann’s life she was his primary carer, with financial assistance from her mother. During all the years that she had her own property, whether in London or in Wiltshire, Ann’s great love was her garden. Ann died of cancer in March 1978. John survived her by two or three years.
3.AnneRidler, Anne (née Bradby) (Bradby) Ridler (30 July 1912–2001), poet, playwright, editor; worked as TSE’s secretary, 1936–40: see Biographical Register.