October 25, 2010 by orwelldiaries
The other night examined the crowds sheltering in Chancery Lane, Oxford Circus and Baker Street stations. Not all Jews, but, I think, a higher proportion of Jews than one would normally see in a crowd of this size. What is bad about Jews is that they are not only conspicuous, but go out of their way to make themselves so. A fearful Jewish woman, a regular comic-paper cartoon of a Jewess, fought her way off the train at Oxford Circus, landing blows on anyone who stood in her way. It took me back to old days on the Paris Métro.
Surprised to find that D., who is distinctly Left in his views, is inclined to share the current feeling about the Jews. He says that the Jews in business circles are turning pro-Hitler, or preparing to do so. This sounds almost incredible, but according to D. they will always admire anyone who kicks them. What I do feel is that any Jew, i.e. European Jew, would prefer Hitler’s kind of social system to ours, if it were not that he happens to persecute them. Ditto with almost any Central European, e.g. the refugees. They make use of England as a sanctuary, but they cannot help feeling the profoundest contempt for it. You can see this in their eyes, even when they don’t say it outright. The fact is that the insular outlook and the continental outlook are completely incompatible.
According to F.[1], it is quite true that foreigners are more frightened than English people during the raids. It is not their war, and therefore they have nothing to sustain them. I think this might also account for the fact – I am virtually sure it is a fact, though one mustn’t mention it – that working-class people are more frightened than middle-class.
The same feeling of despair over impending events in France, Africa, Syria, Spain – the sense of foreseeing what must happen and being powerless to prevent it, and feeling with absolute certainty that a British government cannot act in such a way as to get its blow in first.
Air raids much milder the last few days.
[1] Probably Tosco Fyvel, with whom Orwell was then working. Peter Davison
Tags: Africa, air-raids, Baker Street, Chancery Lane, France, Hitler, Jews, oxford circus, Paris Metro, Spain, Syria, Tosco Fyvel
Posted in Political, War-time | 43 Comments »
October 21, 2010 by orwelldiaries
With reference to the advertisements in the Tube stations, “Be a Man” etc. (asking able-bodied men not to shelter there but to leave the space for women and children), D. [1] says the joke going around London is that it was a mistake to print those notices in English.
Priestley, [2] whose Sunday night broadcasts were by implication Socialist propaganda, has been shoved off the air, evidently at the instance of the Conservative party . . . . . . It looks rather as though the Margesson [3] crew are now about to stage a come-back.
[1] Unidentified.
[2] J.B. Priestley (1894-1984) was a prolific popular novelist, dramatist, and man of letters. During 1940 and 1941 he gave a series of weekly radio talks urging the nation to determination and unity against Hitler, so as to make the country more democratic and egalitarian.
[3] David R. Margesson (1890-1965; Viscount, 1942), Conservative M.P. for Rugby, 1924-42; Government Chief Whip, 1931-40, was loyal to each prime minister he served. Under Churchill he continued as Joint Government Whip, and after six months was Secretary of State for War. Peter Davison
Tags: Margesson, Priestley, Underground
Posted in Political, War-time | 12 Comments »
October 19, 2010 by orwelldiaries
The unspeakable depression of lighting the fires every morning with papers of a year ago, and getting glimpses of optimistic headlines as they go up in smoke.
Tags: newspapers
Posted in Political, War-time | 11 Comments »
October 15, 2010 by orwelldiaries
Writing this at Wallington, having been more or less ill for about a fortnight with a poisoned arm. Not much news – i.e only events of worldwide importance; nothing that has much affected me personally
There are now 11 evacuee children in Wallington (12 arrived, but one ran away and had to be sent home). They come from the East End. One little girl, from Stepney, said that her grand-father had been bombed out seven times. They seem nice children and to be settling down quite well. Nevertheless there are the usual complaints against them in some quarters. E.g. of the little boy who is with Mrs. —– [1], aged seven: “He’s a dirty little devil, he is. He wets his bed and dirties his breeches. I’d rub his nose in it if I had charge of him, the dirty, little devil.” [2]
Some murmurings about the number of Jews in Baldock. —– [1] declares that Jews greatly predominate among the people sheltering in the Tubes. Must try and verify this.
Potato crop very good this year, in spite of the dry weather, which is just as well.
[1] Unidentified.
[2] See ‘Such, Such Were the Joys,’ 3409, where Orwell refers to his own bed-wetting experience. Peter Davison
Tags: Jews, Wallington, Baldock, potato, East End, evacuees, Stepney, bedwetting
Posted in Political, War-time | 13 Comments »
September 27, 2010 by orwelldiaries
The News-Chronicle to-day is markedly defeatist, as well it may be after yesterday’s news about Dakar[1]. But I have a feeling that the News-Chronicle is bound to become defeatist anyway and will be promptly to the fore when plausible peace terms come forward. These people have no definable policy and no sense of responsibility, nothing except a traditional dislike of the British ruling class, based ultimately on the Nonconformist conscience. They are only noise-makers, like the New Statesman, etc. All these people can be counted on to collapse when the conditions of war become intolerable.
Many bombs last night, though I think none dropped within half a mile of this house. The commotion made by the mere passage of the bomb through the air is astonishing. The whole house shakes, enough to rattle objects on the table. Of course they are dropping very large bombs now. The unexploded one in Regent’s Park is said to be “the size of a pillar box.” Almost every night the lights go out at least once, not suddenly flicking off as when a connection is broken, but gradually fading out, and usually coming on again in about five minutes. Why it is that the lights dip when a bomb passes close by, nobody seems to know.
[1] In September 1940 a British expedition, co-operating with Free French forces under General de Gaulle, made an attempt to recapture the port of Dakar, West Africa, from the Vichy government. The expedition was a failure. Peter Davison
Tags: bombs, new statesman, News Chronicle, Regent's Park, Dakar, peace terms, Nonconformists, lights
Posted in Political, War-time | 20 Comments »
September 24, 2010 by orwelldiaries
Oxford Street yesterday, from Oxford Circus up to the Marble Arch, completely empty of traffic, and only a few pedestrians, with the late afternoon sun shining straight down the empty roadway and glittering on innumerable fragments of broken glass. Outside John Lewis’s, a pile of plaster dress models, very pink and realistic, looking so like a pile of corpses that one could have mistaken them for that at a little distance. Just the same sight in Barcelona, only there it was plaster saints from desecrated churches.
Much discussion as to whether you would hear a bomb (i.e. its whistle) which was coming straight at you. All turns upon whether the bomb travels faster than sound……. One thing I have worked out, I think satisfactorily, is that the further away from you a bomb falls, the longer the whistle you will hear. The short whizz is therefore the sound that should make you dive for cover. I think this is really the principle one goes on in dodging a shell, but there one seems to know by a kind of instinct.
The aeroplanes come back and come back, every few minutes. It is just like in an eastern country, when you keep thinking you have killed the last mosquito in your net, and every time, as soon as you have turned the light out, another starts droning.
Tags: aeroplanes, Barcelona, bombs, John Lewis, marble arch, mosquito, oxford circus, oxford street, shell
Posted in Political, War-time | 9 Comments »
September 21, 2010 by orwelldiaries
Have been unable for some days to buy another volume to continue this diary because of the three or 4° stationers’ shops in the immediate neighbourhood, all but one are cordoned off because of the unexploded bombs.
Regular features of the time: neatly swept-up piles of glass, litter of stone and splinters of flint, smell of escaping gas, knots of sighseers waiting at the cordons.
Yesterday, at the entry to a street near here, a little crowd waiting with an A.R.P. man in a black tin hat among them. A devastating roar, with a huge cloud of dust, etc. The man with the hat comes running towards the A. R. P. headquarters, where another with a white hat is emerging, munching at a mouthful of bread and butter.
The man with the black hat: “Dorset Square, sir.”
The man with the white hat: “O.K.” (Makes a tick in his note-book.)
Nondescript people wandering about, having been evacuated from their houses because of delayed-action bombs. Yesterday two girls stopping me in the street, very elegant in appearance except that their faces were filthily dirty: “Please, sir, can you tell us where we are?”
Withal, huge areas of London almost normal, and everyone quite happy in the daytime, never seeming to think about the coming night, like animals which are unable to foresee the future so long as they have a bit of food and a place in the sun.
Tags: ARP, bombs, delayed-action bombs, Dorset Square, gas, London, stationers
Posted in Political, War-time | 24 Comments »
September 17, 2010 by orwelldiaries
Heavy bombing in this area last night till about 11 p.m……. I was talking in the hallway of this house to two young men and a girl who was with them. Psychological attitude of all 3 was interesting. They were quite openly and unashamedly frightened, talking about how their knees were knocking together, etc., and yet at the same time excited and interested, dodging out of doors between bombs to see what was happening and pick up shrapnel splinters. Afterwards in Mrs. C’s little reinforced room downstairs, with Mrs C. and her daughter, the maid, and three young girls who are also lodgers here. All the women, except the maid, screaming in unison, clasping each other, and hiding their faces, every time a bomb went past, but betweenwhiles quite happy and normal, with animated conversation proceeding, The dog subdued and obviously frightened, knowing something to be wrong. Marx [1] is also like this during raids, i.e. subdued and uneasy. Some dogs, however, go wild and savage during a raid and have had to be shot. They allege here, and E. says the same thing about Greenwich, that all the dogs in the park now bolt for home when they hear the siren.
Yesterday when having my hair cut in the City, asked the barber if he carried on during raids. He said he did. And even if he was shaving someone? I said. Oh, yes, he carried on just the same. And one day a bomb will drop near enough to make him jump, and he will slice half somebody’s face off.
Later, accosted by a man, I should think some kind of commercial traveller, with a bad type of face, while I was waiting for a bus. He began a rambling talk about how he was getting himself and his wife out of London, how his nerves were giving way and he suffered from stomach trouble, etc., etc. I don’t know how much of this kind of thing there is ….. There has of course been a big exodus from the East End, and every night what amount to mass migrations to places where there is sufficient shelter accommodation. The practice of taking a 2d ticket and spending the night in one of the deep Tube stations, e.g. Piccadilly, is growing . . . . . . Everyone I have talked to agrees that the empty furnished houses in the West End should be used for the homeless; but I suppose the rich swine still have enough pull to prevent this from happening. The other day 50 people from the East End, headed by some of the Borough Councillors, marched into the Savoy and demanded to use the air-raid shelter. The management didn’t succeed in ejecting them till the raid was over, when they went voluntarily. When you see how the wealthy are still behaving, in what is manifestly developing into a revolutionary war, you think of St. Petersburg in 1916.
(Evening). Almost impossible to write in this infernal racket. (Electric lights have just gone off. Luckily I have some candles.) So many streets in (lights on again) the quarter roped off because of unexploded bombs, that to get home from Baker Street, say 300 yards, is like trying to find your way to the heart of a maze.
[1] The Orwells’ dog. Peter Davison
Tags: air-raids, Baker Street, barber, bombs, dogs, East End, Marx, savoy, shrapnel, St Petersburg, tube stations, unexploded bombs
Posted in Political, War-time | 9 Comments »
September 15, 2010 by orwelldiaries
This morning, for the first time, saw an aeroplane shot down. It fell slowly out of the clouds, nose foremost, just like a snipe that has been shot high overhead. Terrific jubilation among the people watching, punctuated every now and then by the question, “Are you sure it’s German?” So puzzling are the directions given, and so many the types of aeroplane, that no one even knows which are German planes and which are our own. My only test is that if a bomber is seen over London it must be a German, whereas a fighter is likelier to be ours.
Tags: Aeroplane, snipe, german, British, shot down, crash, bomber, fighter
Posted in Political, War-time | 8 Comments »
September 14, 2010 by orwelldiaries
On the first night of the barrage[1], which was the heaviest, they are said to have fired 500,000 shells, i.e. at an average cost of £5 per shell, £2½ millions worth. But well worth it, for the effect on morale.
[1] When the Germans first bombed London, there appeared to be no anti-aircraft defence. Sometimes a single plane could be cruising above and people could only wait anxiously, often for seemingly long periods, for a bomb to be dropped. At other times there would be a concentrated attack of incendiary bombs, high explosives, or both. After all the anti-aircraft guns available had been regrouped around London, quite unexpectedly they all opened up on the night of 10 September. Orwell is absolutely correct about the effect on morale. See also 12.9.40. Peter Davison
Tags: bombs, morale, shells
Posted in Political, War-time | 4 Comments »
