[No surviving envelope]
Thank you for your letter of the 18th which I found this afternoon on returning from Leeds. I have an hour or so before I have to catch the train at Victoria, so I want to answer it now. I was a bit confused at first, wondering if any letters of mine had gone astray; and with some effort realised that it was because going to a distant place on one day and returning the next, gives one the impression of double the time, a full weekend. OfBell, George, Bishop of Chichester (earlier Dean of Canterbury)the Perkinses given introduction to;a8 coursePerkinses, thegiven introduction to Bishop Bell;e8 your aunt would not have got the two letters of introduction until last night or this morning. I wrote at the same time to the Bishop.
I am sorry to hear that the conditions at Sèvres are unpromising, and that that made the parting all the more painful. I agree with you about the dreariness of hotel life; and I wish I knew someone in the South with a house to lend.
I shalltravels, trips and plansEH's 1934–5 year in Europe;b4weekend in Sussex for EH's birthday;b8, of course, beEnglandChichester, West Sussex;d9EH celebrates birthday in;a2 delighted to come to Chichester on the 27th, on the conditions mentioned in my letter, and hoping that you will answer my question before you leave London. (Sometimes your not answering all one’s questions in a letter is confusing as to what you have received, but I am not complaining!) IPerkinses, the;e9 wanted to know what day you are leaving, because I should like to ask you and the Perkins’s to dinner one night soon, perhaps at my club; but if you are possibly leaving on Tuesday you would not want to dine out on Monday, so I will leave that till you return. AlsoMorleys, the;d2, ifShakespeare, WilliamRichard II;c6 you have any idea of when you return, and if you would care to dine and go to Richard II with me and the Morleys soon after you return. The best night of the week, for them, is Wednesday, as they get a late train back after the theatre. You see, I am not so self-conscious as to want to avoid your company; I want all that I can get while you are here; but I don’t want to be importunate, and I like you to say definitely what it would please you to do and what not.
I am inclined to be sorry that you did eventually get my letter at Brown Shipley, as it has brought me a severe, though no doubt merited (I am not being ironical) ticking off. First, I am sorry I did not understand your remark about ‘strange ladies’, and was frankly puzzled as to what your tone was – since it really did rub an open sore. I regard my remark about the fear of snubbing as unfortunate. It implied no criticism of you at all, to begin with, nor did it mean that you did snub me. It was very clumsily put indeed. It is really a particular statement of a general case. IEliot, Vivien (TSE's first wife, née Haigh-Wood)marriage to;e6humiliating;a9 know that as a consequence of years of bitter humiliation, I do instinctively incline to be prepared for people to hurt me; and I know that I have a violent temper – a temper is none the less violent for being always controlled – and that causes me to adopt an attitude of excessive good nature in general, because a row is so terribly exhausting. But here I meant, that with anyone but you it would NOT matter so much being hurt, because I could always do something about it: but if you hurt me I should probably accept it that you were right to do so (that is why I said ‘snub’ instead of ‘hurt’ or ‘offended’) and certainly I should never feel angry, but merely crushed – which I assure you, is much more painful than getting in a temper. Oh dear, I dare say all this sort of explanation does nothing to mend matters, because it will only read like ‘microscopic analysis’. I know I am a very twisted creature, but I want to get as straight as I can. But you mustn’t ever expect me to be quite like other people.
I am much regretting the (unrelated) remark about self-consciousness.1 It has nothing to do with ‘weighing every word’, whatever, and nothing to do whatever with ‘microscopic analysis’. What I am talking about is on another plane altogether, but I am sorry I spoke of it, because it might tend to make you more ill at ease with me, which I do not want at all. And it is not in any way due to anything in your behaviour to me; it is just something quite inherent in my own feelings, which arises naturally in the circumstances, and is nobody’s fault. I do mean to treat you just like any of my friends, and think I can; but you mustn’t expect me to feel as I do towards them – that is impossible. But I do begin I think to grope my way towards greater selflessness in feeling – which is a much more difficult and deeper thing than just dedicating one’s actions to the service of others.2
Now I shan’t expect to see you until Saturday afternoon. I hope this letter will seem to you more sensible and proper-feeling than previous: I must put things right somehow!
[Added by EH, by hand:]
‘I do not mean to sound uncritical about Tom in my letter to you – it is only that, as other elements are put out of the way – I see him more and more clearly – which is a good thing – but it is up to me to remember always that he cares for me – and that makes much difference – I know.’
1.See letter to EH, 11 Oct. 1934 – above.
2.EH adds here, by hand: ‘We can quite agree as to this, can’t we, Peter dear?’ ‘Peter’ is unidentified.
4.RtBell, George, Bishop of Chichester (earlier Dean of Canterbury) Revd George Bell, DD (1883–1958), Bishop of Chichester, 1929–58: see Biographical Register.