Emily Hale to T. S. Eliot
At last, I have an uninterrupted hour in which to write to you, something I have been wanting to do, I assure you, long before this. I like to feel fairly at ease in mind and body when I do write to you, so that I have let go by a few chances when I could have got off a shorter note to you, which sounds like a reversal of my usual advice to you in the past, doesn’t it? Forgive me, please, for leaving you without words from me for so long.
Your two letters of December 26th and January 11th were received1 – and the former I think I acknowledged in my letter of January 1st the last, I think, that you had from me. Since the news of your truly distinguished honor of the O.M. (which has been commented upon I suppose, in every American paper, and many a journal) I understand from several sources that you have received yet another – anPrinceton Universityand TSE's Institute for Advanced Study position;e3 appointment to the Institute of Higher Studies at Princeton.2 What does this imply in the way of your coming to this country – and what type of service, so to speak, is required of you? I assume this appointment is wholly apart from the previous appointment at the same University. TheHale, Emilyurges TSE not to despair at honours;r6 Roman Academy award, plus the Legion of Honour, were items of news unknown to me. But Tom, please let me help you – or suggest to you – that these honors do not imply – or should not, that the ‘best of my work is done’ and that they seem as a ‘kind of stifling obstruction of creative activity.’
That, in one sense, you are so affected by them, I can well understand, knowing you both as man and artist, but on the other hand, my dear, try to take them as the world’s recognition of not only what is past, but what is to come, which is very important indeed – so important, that perhaps the implied challenge, which I think these awards stand for, is more than at present you feel like facing. Such an attitude also I can understand, for you are very tired both physically and emotionally – a condition which I think you should not expect to get over for some time yet; it is not physically usual to recover from your operation, plus your debility within a year, and the emotional content of your day to day existence may not be recovered from ever – but should go towards new deeper sources of understanding and creative work. I am relieved to hear you are considered to look stronger than the year previous, and in time Nature will help restore some vitality to you within the strictures which life in your country places upon you all so heavily. The fact that you can do anything at all – even your editorial work – seems to me remarkable, and with patience and fortitude, both of which I believe you possess, you will come through – provided you allow God and Nature to work their healing in you; and that I say with the truest reverence and belief possible in myself. I think I may say that I know, at first hand, a little something of what I am saying to you. You are nearly sixty – and there is still a great deal you can do, Tom – for the literary world, and for the many people in public and private who look to you. But such responsibility is I know, a rather overwhelming one – but one any man in your position has to accept, and one you have already accepted and met, over and over. Think back over the years of other extremely difficult conditions, and from that survey, look forward again. I have been conscious of what this past fortnight has brought you in memory’s books, and I have hoped you were given a steadier outlook upon it than before.
There is very much I could write you, but even this letter is limited by time; my lunch hour and an engagement for the after-noon. You9 Lexington Road, Concord, MassachusettsEH's daily existence at;a5 want to know of my daily life in Concord – well, that is hard to give you except in general. First of all, even the care of but three rooms takes much time, as I have no ‘char’ to help keep me clean, except a bright, gnome-like little man of 81 – a Swede – who comes once a fortnight to clean my carpet and rugs. Keeping silver clean, rooms dusted, meal going, is pleasant, but very time consuming; I try not to allow the love of my rooms and their good appearance to absorb too much time, for I think such a habit becomes too strong in many women – especially single women like myself, who have little else to do in most cases. ThatHale, Emilyas director ('producer');v9The Dorset Players;b6 is not true of me, for I have as much to do in a simple way as I can take care of – certain church activities of very diverse character, some town affairs, modest enough, like participation in the League of Women Voters, andDorset Players, Theelect EH director;a2 in the dramatic group, The Players, of which I am now a director, and, I may add, a consultant in varying branches of their work, My primary love, acting and giving reading programs, is the last one I am called upon to use, but that is [?probably] because I made no concerted professional attempt early enough in last year, to pick up what few engagements I might; my own ‘public’ is limited I think, from the reading point of view, because the very word ‘Poetry’ frightens people away, until they have heard me. But, I am not too unhappy about this, for the present, as I am enjoying the pleasant life of a ‘citizeness’ [sic] and the marked widening of my acquaintances in town. I have entertained at tea a good deal – only four or five at a time – my room takes only six people comfortably – but the pleasant comments made by my guests afterward, leads me to feel that my hospitality is worth while. I have had small groups of girls from the academy, and men and women (married couples) whom I like, or who have been especially nice to me. Miss Flaherty, the owner of this house, left before Christmas, as I think you know, and my young friends, teachers at C. A. – are very happily established below me. The rooms are hardly recognizable fr what they were, since most of Miss F’s possessions have been banished with her consent, and the girls marked artistic taste substituting for replacements. I should think, from the marked liberality of Miss F’s attitude towards all such changes, that in time she would rent for the next year or so to Misses Morse and Young, instead of to [illegible word] of this year, as is now the arrangement. I miss Miss F. and his [?her] sister’s presence and care, in practical ways, as well as other ways – but the ‘girls’ are thoughtful of me, and I often have dinner with them, when not out for dinner Tues. and Thrs, as I always am at my good friend Miss Lee’s – as a p. g. of course. Very few people ever extend hospitality here – I never get accustomed to this! TheAmericaCambridge, Massachusetts;d4EH's 'group' in;a6 friends in Cambridge I see as little of as ever, tho’ I have managed to be at a couple of the ‘Bee’ teas lately – the group we all grew up with in Cambridge who keep together by meeting once a week for tea. Next week I am hostess in name at P.B.K’s house – an arrangement of her suggesting, but one I should not choose another year – preferring to have a spring ‘date’ when some might drive to see me.
IPerkinses, the;m5 go to no. 90 on an average of once a week anyway, sometimes oftener – as for example, I stayed from Saturday to Tuesday morning, this last time. The two of them grow really less strong, I think, and I have to say, to you, increasingly difficult to suit, in their moods, especiallyPerkins, Dr John Carroll (EH's uncle)ailing;f3 my poor Uncle John who suffers so much physically, or is so weak that all his reactions stem from his physical condition. I am afraid my aunt’s eye-sight is less good, tho’ some days she sees quite a lot, which I regret to say she will not fully acknowledge, and this attitude of hers is what to me, is the most important and most difficult element in her condition, poor woman. Usually I am now able to meet the demands of the situation pretty well, and she is, I know, appreciative of the services I do for her, such as writing, shopping, mending etc – but deeper attitudes towards them both they seem wholly unconscious of; it is that which takes the daring, as the real part of me they hardly know at all – or help me develop it further! OfPerkins, Edith (EH's aunt)on EH and TSE's relationship;i2 their attitude at the time of your honor I do not care to write of now, or of my aunt’s confused thinking on yours and my relationship at present.
LetHale, Emilycorrespondence with TSE;w3EH asks TSE to reduce;i5 me clarify for you, by the way, why I asked you not to write as often as you used to: it was largely to help me understand you better than I could when the weekly letters kept interfering with the understanding I was trying to find for you, and for all that has happened. I think I said this before in the letter which asked you not to write too often, but I want to say again that I am always keeping open the door between us with love and longing – that I miss in many ways the bond which even correspondence gave, but that I count on nothing, nor anticipate anything – except to be ready to fit into whatever picture of which you draw the outlines. I shall be glad if you can answer this promptly – and you can always write once a month, at least, whether you hear from me or not.
No lunch yet – 1.45 – so I must end with my affection always and my friendship held to you as much as I can, I pray –
1.Letters of these dates have not been found.
2.TSE’s appointment to the Institute for Advanced Study at Princeton was announced in the New York Times on 13 Jan. 1948. Other appointees included the British historian Arnold J. Toynbee and the Danish physicist Niels Bohr. (See further Margaret M. Keenan, ‘Mr Eliot’s Stay in Princeton’, Princeton History 2 (1977), 60–7; Kelly Devine Thomas, ‘T. S. Eliot at the Institute for Advanced Studies’, <https://www.ias.edu/ideas/2007/ts-eliot-ias>.
3.DrPerkins, Dr John Carroll (EH's uncle) John Carroll Perkins (1862–1950), Minister of King’s Chapel, Boston: see Biographical Register.