Alan Paton Selected Letters

Paton in die Diepkloof Verbeteringskool met kanidate van die eerste van die hostelle (1938)

Paton het vrywillig sy dienste aangebied om deel te neem aan die Tweede Wêreld Oorlog, maar hy is afgekeur. Na die oorlog besoek hy verskeie korrektiewe fasiliteite regoor die wêreld op sy eie onkoste. Tydens hierdie toer skryf hy Cry, the Beloved Country in beknopte hotelkamers. Die roman, gepubliseer in Februarie 1948, was dadelik ‘n groot sukses en het Paton roem en finansiële onafhanklikheid besorg. Dieselfde jaar verander die politiese situasie in Suid-Afrika toe die regse Nasionale Party aan bewind kom. Paton raak geleidelik meer betrokke by die politiek van die land, en ondersteun veral liberale idees en teenkanting teen apartheid. Hy is een van die stigterslede van die Suid-Afrikaanse Liberale Vereniging, wat later die Liberale Party word. Die regering verban die party in die laat 1960’s aangesien hul lede bestaan uit beide “Swartes” en “Blankes”. Alhoewel Paton op ‘n vreedsame wyse gekant was teen apartheid, is sy paspoort weggeneem. As gevolg van die intense politieke druk van hierdie donker jare en die dood van sy vrou, het hy ‘n tydperk van skynbare wanhoop deurgemaak.

Na hy sy studies voltooi, werk Paton as ‘n onderwyser en trou in 1928. Na ‘n ernstige siekte besluit hy dat hy nie meer ‘n onderwyser wil wees nie en doen aansoek vir ‘n pos as bewaarder by Diepkloof, ‘n verbeteringskool vir jong, nie-blanke seuns naby Johannesburg. Hy ontwikkel ‘n nuwe stelsel om die seuns te rehabiliteer deur hulle aansienlik meer vryhede toe te laat. Hierdie opspraakwekkende, vooruitstrewende beleide veroorsaak dat Hendrik Verwoerd, die toekomstige argitek van Apartheid, teen Paton uitvaar in die koerant, Die Transvaler. Paton word egter ondersteun deur sy vriend en beskermheer Jan Hofmeyr, destydse minister van onderwys.

Die roman, Cry, the Beloved Country is in 1948 gepubliseer maar is daarna verskeie keer herdruk.

Paton trou in 1969 met sy sekretaresse en begin die lang, gelukke afsluiting van sy gesinslewe. Hy tree af op Botha’s Hill, ‘n klein dorpie in KwaZulu-Natal waar hy woon tot met sy afsterwe in 1988. Sy moed, goeie humor en korrespondensie het tot die einde toe ononderbroke oorleef, en baie Suid-Afrikaanse politieke figure, wat wissel van opperhoof Mangosuthu Buthelezi tot P.W. Botha, het voordeel getrek uit sy wyse raad.

Paton met Hoofman Buthelezi by die onthulling van ‘n borsbeeld van Paton, by die Universiteit van Natal, 7 Okt 1982

Hierdie publikasie is ‘n versameling van byna 350 voorheen ongepubliseerde briewe deur een van Suid-Afrika se grootste romanskrywers. Dit werp ‘n skerp lig op ‘n wye verskeidenheid aspekte van die land se geskiedenis in die 20ste eeu. Die briewe dek Paton se lang lewe. Die eerste briewe vervat in die volume is geskryf in Januarie 1922, toe hy ‘n briljante 18-jaar-oue student aan die Natalse Universiteitskollege was. Die laaste briewe is in Maart 1988 geskryf toe hy 85 was, twee weke voor sy afsterwe.

Hierdie komplekse en veelsydige lewe het ‘n ryk oes van uiteenlopende en altyd interessante briewe opgelewer wat ongeëwenaarde insig in sy persoonlikheid en werk gelewer het. Dit verleen toegang tot die intieme gedagtes van ‘n groot skrywer wat nie in staat was om ‘n vaal of oneerlike frase op te stel nie. “I used to be a great letter-writer”, skryf Paton aan ‘n ou vriend in 1941 “but I dare not promise you that it can happen again. I can only say that your last letter has made me write this one.”

Alan Paton, Laurens van der Post, Enslin du Plessis, Roy Campbell en Uys Krige in London, Mei 1952

Paton het duidelik die gee en neem van briefskryf geniet en was toegewy daaraan. Baie briefskrywers lewer blykbaar monoloë op; Paton se korrespondensie is meer soos ‘n reeks kragtige gesprekke. Sy betrokkenheid by ander mense en sy vermoë tot vriendskap word oral uitgestal. Sy briewe, vol insigte rakende sy persoonlikheid en beginsels, is die belangrikste aspek van sy geskrifte om grotendeels ongepubliseer te bly. Die publikasie van hierdie versameling begin die proses om die leemte te vul.

UITTREKSEL VANUIT DIE TEKS

c/o Mrs. Dench,/25 Kenilworth Gdns/
Seven Kings/Ilford./Essex./Engl.
5/10/46

My dearest Dorrie,

I have just sent you a cable to say ‘Letter delayed all well love writing today’. And this letter will explain why. I left Stockholm at 9 pm on 24/9/46 & woke up in central Sweden. The woods were turning yellow & red among the dark green of the pines. We crossed into Norway, & some of the mountains were covered with snow. Norway is a beautiful country, not so mountainous as I discovered Sweden—or those parts of it where I was—to be. I got to Trondheim at 2.0 pm & stayed at a cheap hotel. An engineer named Jensen asked if I would like to see the cathedral. He was an enthusiast & knew every stone in it. There is a great rose window that defies description, & it is interesting in this Protestant church to find chapels to the Blessed Virgin. It was raining heavily & I returned to my room & began my novel about South Africa. At 7.0 pm I met Jensen & we went to a restaurant where I stood him dinner in return for his kindness. On Tuesday I caught the 8.0 am to Oslo, & we climbed up to the Dovre mountains. Here the autumn colours are unbelievable; the moors are yellow, green, red, orange—such colours as you have never seen. A young girl next to me spoke English, & we had a pleasant journey. We descended from the mountains through the Gudbrandsdal, a lovely valley between the mountains, with flowers & big green rivers that foam their way through the narrow pass. We got to Oslo at 10.0 pm & I went to another hotel, this time very expensive. Next day it was raining & I set out to explore, but turned back. But Oslo is a poor city compared with Stockholm, & the Norwegians suffered much during the war. The trains & trams are dirty, the shops are poor, taxis are scarce. I returned to the hotel & wrote more of the book. At 5.40 pm of that day 27/9/46 I caught my train. You can imagine my horror when I was ordered to get off the train at Halden, on the border, because my visa did not allow more than one journey into Sweden. I pleaded but in vain, so there I was dumped in the dark, not knowing a soul, & having no money, except a traveller’s cheque that could not be cashed in Norway. I rang up the wife of the British Consul, Mrs. Thompson. She was very kind & actually walked down to the station to get me & took me up to her house for tea. There we tried to work out some kind of plan. My idea was still to try & catch the boat at 5.0 pm for Gothenburg, but I first had to go back to Oslo to get a visa, & then take a taxi to a bridge, & Mrs. Thompson would arrange for a Swedish taxi to meet me on the bridge. Total distance about 300 miles, total cost about £20. As there were so few taxis in Oslo, I decided to take a taxi from Halden to Oslo for 130 crowns (£6.10.0). You can imagine I was very depressed, partly because of the money involved, partly because it was a very tight fit as far as time was concerned, partly because I had a tour of northern England due to begin on Thursday Oct. 3. I went back to the station where a young man who could speak a little English was most kind to me, & at 6.30 am set out by taxi for Oslo. We got there at 9.0 am, only to find that the Consulates do not open till 10.0 am, but I got my visa at 9.30 am. Back to the British Consul who lent me 150 crowns, & advised me to cancel my passage by telegram, & give up the taxi idea. Mr. Thompson, the British consul from Halden, was there, & shared my taxi back to Halden. I was determined not to stay at the depressing & expensive hotel. Back at Halden Mr. Thompson got me a nice room at a cheap hotel, & took me home to tea. Then after tea to dinner with people called Refsaas. There we ate & drank from 7.0 pm to about midnight, with breaks for music & singing. I went back to the hotel & wrote some more of the book. After breakfast Mr. Thompson called for me, took me for a drive to his quarry, & back to lunch. There I stayed till the evening train, & believe me, neither customs nor passport official came near me, so to be safe, after getting a passage for Wednesday thro’ the intervention of the S.A. Consul, I reported to the police. My three days in Gothenburg I spent writing, after having been forced to take a double room for the sake of getting somewhere to sleep. I cashed my last cheque for £5, & tho’ I did nothing extravagant except send three cables to England to explain the delay & cancel engagements, I spent it all in 2½ days. I was glad to get on the boat & found myself in a 2-berth cabin with another Johannesburg man, Fletcher from Parkview. He knew the Rouses well & taught John special lessons. At the Customs I got a letter from Jonno & David, which cheered me up. During the night the boat began to heave & roll, & only about six of us (out of 100 2nd class) turned up for breakfast. I enjoyed it. We got to Tilbury yesterday morning (Friday 4/10/46) & was I glad to see England again. I went to draw my money this morning & see that for September you got your £17. But they are still not deducting the new insurance. Please go to see the Insurance people, & ask why the stop-order is not in force, & please pay the back amounts out of Hoffie’s money. You need not worry about the passage on the Queen Elizabeth—I was glad to get it, & have cancelled my other application, & will fill in the form you mention. They were a bit peeved to know that Johannesburg could do it, & they couldn’t. I came back to a big post, two letters from you, one from Mr. Laas, two copies of Common Sense, letter from Ronald, etc. etc. Tomorrow I leave to go to Tubby Eaton at Leicester, & have a very heavy programme of work, visiting. I hope to get in a bit of writing too.

Three months are gone & before you know where you are I shall be back. Hope Jonno is better. Had a letter from Hoffie too, in which he commented on David’s mountaineering! Shall write to you next Monday from here probably, after I return from the North. No more news at the moment. Remember me to Stanley & Beryl, & Oubaas too. Have they started on Stanley’s house? Shall try & write now to Mr. Laas, to David & Jonno, to Ronald & Hoffie, & then I shall be free this evening to play crib with Mrs. Dench.

Much love to you, my dear. I shall be careful of passports in future.

Your
Alan

Redigering en voorwoord deur Peter Alexander

Peter F. Alexander is in 1949 in Grahamstad, Suid-Afrika gebore. Hy is opgelei aan die universiteite van die Witwatersrand, Leeds en Cambridge, en woon sedert 1978 in Australië. Hy was ‘n literêre biograaf en professor in Engels aan die Universiteit van Nieu-Suid-Wallis in Sydney. Hy was besoekende genoot aan die Duke Universiteit, Noord-Carolina, en in Clare Hall, Cambridge. Verder was hy uitnemende besoekende geleerde aan Christ’s College, Cambridge, en besoekende professor aan die Princeton Universiteit en die Universiteit van Noord-Carolina.

Hy is ‘n genoot van die Australiese Akademie van Geesteswetenskappe. Sy verteenwoordigende publikasies sluit in Roy Campbell: A Critical Biography (1982), William Plomer: A Biography (1989), Leonard and Virginia Woolf: A Literary Partnership (1992), Alan Paton: A Biography (1994), Les Murray: A Life in Progress (2000). As redakteur sluit sy werke in The Selected Poems of Roy Campbell (1982), Campbell’s Collected Works, 4 vols. (met Michael Chapman & Marcia Leveson, 1985-88), The Diary of Iris Vaughan (met Peter Midgely, 2004) en Alan Paton: Selected Letters (2009). Sy uitgebreide publikasies in vaktydskrifte bevat werk oor biografiese teorie, die werke van Jane Austen, Nadine Gordimer, Laurens van der Post, en die libretti van Benjamin Britten se operas.