The Letters of T. S. Eliot, Volume 1: 1898-1922 (104 page)

MS
Texas

3 October 1921

9 Clarence Gate Gdns

Dear Jack,

I have an idea. As I am going away in a week, and of course am forbidden to do any writing
whatever
, I shall have to write to the
Dial
and say that I cannot do my London Letter for them. I do this letter every other month. The idea is a sort of chat (which I do very badly) about the intellectual life and the life of the intellectuals in London at the moment – not criticism of new books etc. so much as to communicate to the lonely reader in Chicago or Los Angeles a pleasant comforting sense of being in the know about activities in London. Excellent models are provided in the
Patrician
.
¹
You would be able to provide that pleasant comforting sense,
knowing everything and everybody, with a tone of smartness foreign to my heavy pen. You would get £10 more or less, for each article.

May I write to the
Dial
and tell them that I have a distinguished substitute? I would have to be sure that your contribution would be sent off
by the 15th October.
You would be doing me a great favour, and I don’t know anyone in London who would do it better. Will you let me know immediately? Please accept.

Yours
Tom.

1–The British edition of
Vanity Fair
, launched 1919.

MS
Texas

[3? October 1921]

9 Clarence Gate Gdns

My dear Richard,

Forgive my not writing – I have had so much to do, and have felt so ill that it has taken me twice as long to do it. I have seen the specialist (said to be the best in London) who made his tests and said that I must go away
at once
for three months, alone and away from anyone, not exert my mind at all, and follow his strict rules for every hour of the day. So I have been given leave by the bank for that period, very generously – they continue to pay my salary. I am going in about a week, as soon as I have taught enough knowledge of my work to a substitute.

I did not anticipate such a medical verdict, and the prospect does not fill me with anything but dread. But the only thing is to carry out the doctor’s instructions exactly, and refuse to think of the future after the three months.

Perhaps you will think: why not simply chuck the bank, rest, and begin journalism. But I simply feel too ill for that, and I am sure that this would be the worst possible moment for such a change. I should have to brace myself to a new effort, instead of relaxing, and I should worry myself in a short time into a far worse state. So I am sure you will agree with me that the best thing is to follow the doctor’s orders for the three months, and not make any plans beyond that date.

So will you guard your intercession in patience and my gratitude will not die! I really feel very shaky, and seem to have gone down rapidly since my family left.

I will let you know (in confidence) where I go and will hope to be cheered by an occasional letter, which will be acknowledged by a postcard, all I may write: I don’t want correspondence from the general public of
my acquaintance at all. I should have liked to spend a night with you before I go off, but it is contrary to orders, and I ought to lose no time in beginning. Were I not forbidden intercourse I should have liked to go somewhere within a possible distance of you.

I return the Allan papers.
¹
It would have been great fun to do Hogarth! or Wren or Inigo Jones (but there are no architects on the list). But [there’s] hardly need to answer it, is there? I appreciate also your always wanting to share things! Will you do one or more, and which?

– Yes, I shd. love to write a book on Wren, or at least on the
églises assassinées
²
of London. But one would have to spend more money in travelling about seeing things than one would ever get out of a book. I long to see Rome and the seventeenth C. architecture there – having been to Vicenza. I shall go to Eastbourne first, perhaps somewhere abroad later, but can’t
travel
at all –

About your Murry (returned herewith).
³
I think the title too clearly betrays the nature of the review – I should be inclined to choose some neutral title. I should also be inclined to put the first paragraph (with the necessary alterations) at the
end
of the part about Murry. I like the draw-and-quarterly beginning of the second paragraph – but perhaps this is a counsel of journalistic inadvisability.

Of course, I agree with your estimate. At the same time there is a distinct difference between the baseness of Murry’s verse and that of plain stupidity like Shanks, Squire and Turner.
⁴
It is a distinction which belongs to psychology rather than art, and is not worth one’s time, but I am sure that it is there.

Have you got the books? Many thanks for the use, I enjoyed them all.

Would you like me to lend you my Cowley’s Poems
– apparently complete, four little volumes in an old edition of British poets?

There are many other things, in your recent letters and elsewhere, that I should like to discuss. But I have so much to do in order to get away next week – So take my blessing, and believe me

Yours ever
Tom.

Is the Manning work nearly finished?
⁵
Please explain my disappearance to Jackson, if you ever write to him.

I don’t know Cowley’s letters at all, I am sorry to say.

1–Unidentified.

2–‘murdered churches’. See Maurice Barrès,
La Grande Pitié des Églises de France
(1914).

3–RA, ‘“Vaulting Ambition”’, a review of JMM,
Poems
1916–1920, and Clifford Bax,
Antique Pageantry: A Book of Verse Plays, NS
, 15 Oct. 1921. RA did not make the suggested changes.

4–W. J. Turner (1889–1946), poet admired by WBY, now better remembered for biographies of Mozart, Beethoven and Berlioz.

5–In Aug., Frederic Manning had asked RA to help him complete a biography of Sir William White. See Jonathan Marwil,
Frederic Manning: An Unfinished Life
(1988), 218.

MS
Texas

[4? October 1921]

[London]

Dear Jack

I’m very glad to hear that you consent and am sure it will be excellent. I am sending you a copy of the August
Dial
with my feeble contribution which will at least give you a notion of the length. Don’t bother about the
Patrician
, it was only a mild analogy from another sphere of journalism. Of course I should
not
consider your financial proposal.

Thank you very much for your letter which I appreciate. I certainly look forward to seeing you before I go.

Yours
T.

PC
Texas

[Postmark 5 October 1921]

9 Clarence Gate Gdns

Thank you
very much
for your letter. I will come with pleasure on Saturday.

T.S.E.

MS
Texas

Saturday [8 October 1921]

[9 Clarence Gate Gdns]

I wanted to write to you in time for the country post, but was simply so sleepy that I have had to lie down and sleep the whole time. I am writing tomorrow.

Yours
Tom.

PC
Beinecke  

9 October 1921

9 Clarence Gate Gdns  

Please excuse card – as I am very rushed and tired. I appreciate the trouble you have taken, and am much pleased with your proposal. I will write to you in January when I get back.  

With best wishes
Sincerely
T. S. Eliot

MS
Beinecke  

12 October 1921

9 Clarence Gate Gdns  

Dear Monro,  

You need not apprehend the danger of another edition – if you sell
Ara Vos Prec
at all you will sell it before the poems are reprinted. I am only sorry to hear that your profits are limited to 4½d each.
¹
But you can safely put the book into your next catalogue, as I do not propose another edition until the volume can be considerably augmented.  

I am sorry that I cannot come in to your party tonight – but the reason is that I am going away tomorrow for three months treatment and rest cure – and should have gone already if there had not been so much to do before I left. I shall be back in January and hope to see you then.  

Sincerely
T. S. Eliot

1–Monro wrote on 8 Oct. that he had bought all the remaining copies of
Ara Vos Prec
– fifty plain and six signed – to be sold for 10s 6d plain and 18s 6d signed, ‘and if you find anyone expressing an interest please pass it along to me, as I believe in quick sales. I have had them about five days and so far have sold two to the trade and only made nine pence profit on them.’

TS
Texas  

[13 October 1921]

9 Clarence Gate Gdns  

My dear Richard,  

You should know that if I have not written to you more quickly, on such an occasion, it is not that you have not been constantly in my mind. It is almost incredible that such generosity and friendship could exist at all, and
I want you to know that the assurance that such friendship does exist, is in itself an immense support. I really cannot say enough – but it is not merely quantity of expression, but impossibility of saying what I feel. I should like to treasure your cheque as a symbol. If I have any notion of what your situation is, and the burdens you have, it is a very great sacrifice. I have not cashed your cheque, and have no immediate intention of doing so. Nor do I wish you to think that the money is where it could not be used by you should some emergency arise in your own life in the meantime. What I propose to do is to keep it in a safe place. Should I be forced to use it, I should write to you and tell you frankly what my condition was; but if, before hearing from me, you have need of it yourself, draw the money, and let me know. I think I could provide myself in any great need elsewhere – though I should prefer to use yours, because of our relations. I hope not to have to use any of it. Of course, I cannot tell what my expenses will be. But when the present crisis is over and I am back at the bank I shall know where I am. Mind you, I shall go back to the bank in any case for long enough to compensate more or less for their consideration and kindness, for they have been good to me – but beyond that I simply do not, at present, look ahead. I shall simply concentrate on getting as well as I can. I am going to Margate tomorrow, and expect to stay at least a month. I am supposed to be alone, but I could [not] bear the idea of starting this treatment quite alone in a strange place, and I have asked my wife to come with me and stay with me as long as she is willing. After that she will return here. I hope that Margate will do her a little good too, as she certainly needs it as much as I do. After that I propose to go abroad, probably to a small cottage with a verandah which Lady Rothermere has offered me, in the mountains back of Monte Carlo (La Turbie). I want Vivien to cross over with me, and go somewhere healthy. If she does, would you be able to house a small cat which we are very fond of?We are having great trouble finding a good home for it for this short time she will be in Margate, and for a longer period I can’t think of anywhere it would be safer or happier than with you. We should have to arrange to get it down to you – perhaps Vivien could come down and have lunch with you and leave it. I should not want to put you to any trouble. It is a very good mouser.  

My address at present will be Albemarle Hotel, Cliftonville, Margate. I have not betrayed it to anyone but yourself and the Bank, so do not expose it to any person. Do write to me when you can spare the time or have a mind to (I mean when
ever
), and if I only reply by an occasional postcard, believe me, nonetheless,
ton bien dévoué
[your very devoted]

Tom.

And what do you think of
Fanfare
,
¹
which quotes our testimonials which appear much more enthusiastic thus extracted than they appeared to the writers, embodied in the letters. I think it was generous of you to give them a poem.
²

1–
Fanfare: A Musical Causerie
, ed. Leigh Henry, ran for seven fortnightly numbers from 1 Oct. 1921 to 1 Jan. 1922. The first issue carried other messages of support for the ‘Fanfare Movement’ from de Falla, Satie, Dorothy Richardson and Duncan Grant. TSE had written: ‘Your venture is extraordinarily interesting; you should have no difficulty in eclipsing the current musical periodicals. I should consider myself most happy to be numbered among your contributors.’ He did not subsequently appear in its pages.

2–‘At a Gate by the Way’, in the first issue.