[9 Grenville Place, South Kensington, London S.W.7]
Attravels, trips and plansTSE's 1935 Faber summer holiday;b9described;a5 last, I am alone in my room with my typewriter, and can write a letter. ThoughFabers, the1935 summer holiday with;c5 my visit was particularly successful and enjoyable, I do not find other people’s houses the best places to write letters in, and especially to write to you. One is seldom entirely to oneself on a visit: one belongs partly to one’s hosts, and is hardly able even to think what one thinks alone, let alone write it down. I have had a quiet two days – yesterday spent the morning at the office, but did not [sc. no] more than read all the unforwarded correspondence waiting for me, andJaneses, the;a4Janes, Ada
IMorleys, theTSE's return from Wales with;f1 had a pleasant journey back with the Morleys. In fact I do not believe that there is a motor journey to be taken in one day in this island, moreEnglandBath, Somerset;c8TSE 'ravished' by;a1 interesting than that from Aberayron to Bath, where we spent the night. (It would have been more interesting to have driven from Aberayron to Campden, but for another reason). YouWalesBrecon and Usk Valley;a5 see'Usk'TSE's original passage through;a1 some of the most beautiful scenery in Wales, including Brecon and the Usk Valley.6 AndWalescompared to England;a4 thenEnglandcompared to Wales;b2 suddenly you cross through a corner of Monmouthshire into Herefordshire, and on the other side of one of the castles which were put up to keep the Welsh out, you drive straight into CIVILISATION! The crossing from Scotland to England is nothing like it, because it is crossing from the most civilised part of Scotland into the most barbaric part of England; butEnglandEnglish countryside;c2the West Country;a3 here you come at once from a barbaric country into our own West Country, the best part of England. I am proud of Bath for being in Somerset; andEnglandHereford;f9highly civilised;a1 allEnglandGloucestershire;f6highly civilised;a1 thatEnglandWiltshire;k1highly civilised;a1 WestEnglandSomerset;i8highly civilised;a1 CountryEnglandDorset;e6highly civilised;a1 – Hereford, Gloucestershire, Wilts, Somerset and Devon and Dorset, is highly civilised. WalesWalescompared to Scotland;a6 is beautiful, but it is natural beauty, man has done little to beautify it. There is no architecture, the towns are squalid, the inns lacking in dignity. DignityScotlandcompared to Wales and the Welsh;a5 is something the Welshman has not got – the difference between the Welshman and the Highlander, I have decided, is the difference between the Ignoble Savage and the Noble Savage. The Scots have dignity, the Welsh have not. The Highland landscape has grandeur, the Welsh only romance. (NotThorp, Margaret (née Farrand)would think TSE romantic;b1 that I am not an extremely romantic person myself – I am sure Margaret Thorpe [sic] would say I was, if she knew me better; and you have good reason to know that I am). AndEnglandGloucestershire;f6its beautiful edge;a2 how beautiful the Edge of Gloucestershire, from Gloucester through Nailsworth down to Bath! a thunderstorm had just passed, and left a rainbow on our left. I had never seen Bath, and was ravished by it – what a civilised town! ISaintsbury, GeorgeTSE pays homage to final dwelling-place;a1 made a pilgrimage to 1, Royal Crescent, where George Saintsbury died.7 Everything in Bath is right, the names of the shops, the lettering on the streets, the vistas: andsmokingFrench cigarettes versus Ringer's Mild Shag;b3 to complete my happiness a Salmon & Gluckstein’s tobacco shop branch with French cigarettes – in Wales you can get nothing but Ringer’s Mild Shag.
TheEnglandHampshire;f8journey through;a1 second day not so good, because the second part of it spent in travelling through Hampshire (which is, except for Winchester, a bad county) and the worst part of Surrey. SurreyEnglandSurrey;j4as it must have been;a4 must have been a beautiful country once: but now, the transit through Guildford-Dorking-Reigate-Redhill, and over the Hog’s Back, is unspeakable in ugliness. WeEnglandMarlborough, Wiltshire;h5scene of a happy drink;a1 stopped for a drink in Marlborough, a delightful red brick town, and the school is good too; and at the Bear & Castle public bar we were welcomed like brothers, because the company had a great local character with them, whom they were anxious to show off. He was a farm labourer aged 84, who was taking a pint of very strong Old Beer, and they boasted that he drank nine pints a day regular and carried it home to where he lived on top of a hill, and last bank oliday oi saw im a-sawrin wood with is youngest son-in-law and that same evenin didn’t a photographer bloke from the Daily Mirror come along and took is photograph. The old man recounted an exploit of his own, when he had been given a bottle of champagne, which apparently affected him as strong ale and whisky could not, for the adventure seemed to end with throwing ripe tomatoes about in a potato field: but what with the dialect, and the beard, and the old man’s merriment, it was impossible to pick up more than scraps of the narrative. At Avebury we saw some archaeologists busy setting up Druidical stones which had fallen down.
Wales was very pleasant, but strenuous. I played a good deal of tennis, for the first time in many years. IMorley, Christina (née Innes)as tennis-player;b1 canFaber, Enid Eleanoras tennis-player;a4 beatFaber, Geoffreyas tennis-player;d6 Christina and Enid, andMorley, Frank Vigoras tennis-player;e3 Geoffrey is not very good, though much better than I. Frank’s ankle improved rapidly enough for him to play – and he is a good player – without moving about the court much: so he and I beat Geoffrey and Christina. We had several delightful days on one beach or another, taking our lunch or tea, and the children with spades; and my shoulders peeling at last. (I wish by the way that you could get more SUN. You have no beach and no bathing pool and no chance to take off your clothes and lie in the sun). (IHale, Emilycriticised for flower-arranging;g2 wish you did not spend so much time arranging flowers; flowers are all very well but there is a measure to all things).8 And one day – the bank holiday it was – Geoffrey kindly carried a small sailing dingy on the back of his open car, up to a mountain lake, for a Commander Lewis R.N. We followed with the Commander (by the way Lewis is pronounced Lowwis in Wales), and of course we lost each other and the Commander kept asking everyone on the road whether they had seen a man with a boat on the back of his car (partly in English and partly in Welsh). So the Commander’s party arrived first, and he left us on the shore of his lonely tarn among the hills, where nobody spoke any English to speak of, and went back to hunt for Geoffrey. Then the Morleys decided to pass the time by bathing in the lake, which they did to their great satisfaction – I didn’t because I hate bathing in underclothing and having nothing to dry myself with – and they were chased by a Bull while dressing – a real bull with a ring in his nose. Finally Geoffrey arrived with the boat, which the Commander proceeded to rig. We lunched, and I sailed the boat up and down the very shallow lake, while Geoffrey and Frank pretended to fish for trout, but only got the lines and hooks mixed up with each other and the rigging. A very enjoyable day.
WeFaber, Annorganises holiday entertainments;a4 had a field day, organised by Ann – I came out lowest in the high jump, and best in remembering the objects on a tray. Also a puppet show written and produced by Ann. It was a tragedy of rather Elizabethan nature. The best line was about the aged father: ‘He hates his daughter – because she reminds him of his dead wife’. I am to write a tragedy for them to produce in their theatre at Christmas. My matchboxes worked extremely well, my moustache and cigar have been added to the theatrical properties. MyAnnie (the Fabers' housemaid)plays prank on TSE;a1 reputation for practical jokes has earned me a certain kind of popularity with the domestic staff: for Annie (the housemaid) made me an apple-pie-bed. It must be said, in justice, that she asked Enid’s permission first. Also in justice, that Geoffrey was horrified.
Well, I think that is all about Wales. I dined with the Morleys at Pikes Farm on Friday night, whichMorley, Donaldgiven tennis-racket;b1 gave me the opportunity to present Donald with the tennis racket I had bought him in Bath (he was to play in a children’s tournament on Saturday) and returned to London by the late train.
And how long ago everything seems. IRichmonds, thehost TSE in Sussex;a6 left London and remember dimly going to the Richmonds in Sussex, andtravels, trips and plansEH's 1934–5 year in Europe;b4TSE's July 1935 Campden week;e1 thence to Campden. And that was the most wonderful week I have ever had. As for ‘enjoyment’, there were incidents in it that I simply enjoyed – like the Church Fête, andThorps, theappear in Campden;c4 the Thorpes’ [sic] visit and being taken over to see those people from Boston – but for the things that I most keenly remember the word ‘enjoyment’ simply won’t do. And you know (because I have told you) that I have a very violent temper, which I have vast experience in keeping. The evening at Tewkesbury was delightful, partly because it was a great experience to see the Abbey, partly because it was a great experience to see Samson Agonistes, much more (I confess) because it flattered my vanity to have people make up to me in your presence, whereas if you hadn’t been there it might have been rather boring; largely because I thought you were enjoying yourself; and culminatingly because of my ride back with you in the back of the car. But of course what meant most to me was the half hour or so which you granted me in the garden before bedtime: more even than our picnics. TheHale, Emilyand TSE walk in the Cotswolds;g3 walkEnglandStanton, Gloucestershire;j1on TSE and EH's walk;a1 roundEnglandStanway, Gloucestershire;j2on EH and TSE's walk;a1 about and through Stanton and Stanway was a wonderful day, and having lunch with you under the hawthorn tree in a field, and asking the way, and the grape-fruit-ade that you drank; butEnglandBlockley, Gloucestershire;d1tea at the Crown;a1 there was something much more (these things are quite unaccountable) in our tea at the Crown (was it?) at Blockley. I don’t know yet why the Blockley tea was so important; but that inn yard, and the iron teatable on a slant, and the holly-hocks, are snapshotted on my memory charged with a great significance. As for the last evening in the garden – I think we were sitting there for about an hour, it was just on midnight when we came in – I still feel a sort of lowering of the eyes and weakening of the voice in mentioning it. It is still strange that you should have said, what was my craving desire, when you said it. And it is all still the most natural thing in the world, the most right. And I said ‘glory’ and I mean glory. Glory means exaltation with a sense of complete unworthiness, and you are not to spoil it by demurring at my saying ‘unworthy’. One can’t have all that and feel all that without feeling unworthy, and one is unworthy. It is well done, and fitting for a princess Descended from so many royal kings.9 Mybirdsnightingale;c8EH addressed as;a1 nightingaleHale, EmilyTSE's names, nicknames and terms of endearment for;x3'Nightingale';b9!
You will now say that I have written enough for one letter – especially as I am to be at home indefinitely and can pour out letters as I will. Did I say how pleased I was to find a little note from you on arrival, late Friday night. Stop, I have just read it again (I re-read all your three letters before beginning this). Heavens! you say, how mid-Victorian! andBrownes, the MartinTSE's fondness for;a4 you do not say whether you did see the Browne’s [sic] again (BrownesEliot family, theMolly Browne and her three Greenleaf daughters;a6 – when you next use my rooms, which I hope will be by the end of this month, I must call your attention to Molly Browne, one of the Ulster Brownes, whose portrait, as the wife of Col. Wm. Greenleaf who read the Declaration of Independence from the balcony of the Boston State House and mother of three beautiful Greenleaf daughters from all of whom I am descended)10 because I like the Brownes too, andBrowne, Elliott Martinpursues London Murder revival;a6 MartinMurder in the Cathedral1935–6 Mercury Theatre revival;d8Martin Browne pushing for;a1 is still endeavouring to get the Murder produced. AndMurder in the Cathedral1936 BBC radio version;d9BBC bid to produce;a1 theBritish Broadcasting Corporation (BBC)Barbara Burnham production of Murder;a6 B.B.C. have offered me twenty pounds for producing rights, but I want to know what their selection will [be] and whether they will have a proper chorus. As for your last note of August 8th – whichflowers and floraviolets;d1EH gives TSE as buttonhole;a1 enshrines the last viola you gave me for a buttonhole – itHale, Emilyappearance and characteristics;v7her sense of humour;d1 occursHale, Emilyappearance and characteristics;v7her New England conscience;d2 to me to say that you have an exquisite sense of humour, which is one of the things for which I love you, if I love you for anything, but you ought to apply it much more widely and ruthlessly than you do. ItAmericaNew England;f9and the New England conscience;a7 is a sense of humour held in check by a New England conscience: and it might be a sense of humour reinforcing a Catholic conscience.
Photographs will follow when ready. I hope that at least one of you will be suitable for enlargement.
Now is this a LETTER, or is it not?
IUnderhill, Revd Francis, Bishop of Bath and Wellshis books commended to EH;c4 have not yet found the little book of prayer by Francis Underhill of which I spoke.11 But I send you another little book of his, which I think might be worth your reading, if you can stop being Martha long enough to be Mary. AlsoClayton, Joseph ('Joe');a2 I send you a book lent me by Clayton.12 Could you bear to return it to him? I should like you to see him, and this would be an excuse; and if you would read a little of it first, so much the better. BedeJarrett, Bede;a1 Jarrett was a good man.13
I have said this already, and I shall say it again, in different ways.
Do see Greene 14 too, if you can.
1.Revd Lord Victor Seymour died on 7 Aug.: see obituary in Times, 9 Aug. 1935, 12.
2.LadySeymour, Lady Elizabeth Margaret (née Cator) Seymour, née Elizabeth Margaret Cator (1858–1958) – she lived to 100 – married Seymour at the age of twenty-seven; they had five children.
3.‘Introduction’ in Poems of Tennyson (Thomas Nelson & Sons, 1936); repr. as ‘In Memoriam’ in Essays Ancient and Modern (1936): CProse 5, 323–36.
4.‘Byron (1788–1824)’, in From Anne to Victoria: Essays by various hands, ed. BD (1937), 601–19; repr., as ‘Byron’, in On Poetry and Poets (1957): CProse 5, 430–48.
5.Collected Poems 1909–1935 (published 2 Apr. 1936).
6.See ‘Usk’. Erik Arne Hansen on Eliot’s ‘Landscapes’, English Studies, Aug. 1969; Helen Gardner, ‘The Landscapes of Eliot’s Poetry’, Critical Quarterly, Winter 1968 (Gardner thought ‘Usk’ a Scottish Poem – as she confessed in a letter to CQ 2: 4 [Winter 1969], 375); Philip Edwards, ‘Where Eliot dipped in’, TLS, 23 May 2003, 15. TSE'Usk'and the Mabinogion;a2n to Jean Mambrino, SJ, 24 July 1952: ‘For Usk, I think an understanding of this poem depends partly on the immediate evocation of the scenery of the Mabinogion, Welsh tales belonging to the Arthurian cycle.’ TSE to W. M. Merchant, 29 Apr. 1953: ‘I am sorry to say that I do not know that part of the Welsh valley well. I have only passed through it several times in motoring to the house of some friends who lived in Cardiganshire, but that particular region always seemed to me to cast a strong spell, even on the traveller merely in transit.’
7.GeorgeSaintsbury, George Saintsbury (1846–1933), English literary critic, scholar and historian; Professor of Rhetoric and English Literature, University of Edinburgh, 1895–1915. TSE had selected Saintsbury’s essay ‘Dullness’ to launch the Criterion: 1: 1 (Oct. 1922), 1–15.
8.See the opening scene of Act II of The Family Reunion, where Mary attends to flower-arranging, and the available flowers, while conversing with Agatha, and where Harry enters to find her again.
9.‘It is well done and fitting for a princess / Descended of so many royal kings’ (Antony and Cleopatra, V. ii. 323–4).
10.OnEliot family, thethe original William Greenleaf;b2 18 July 1776, William Greenleaf (1724/25–1803) – in his capacity as Sheriff of Suffolk County – declaimed the Declaration of Independence from the balcony of the Old State House in Boston. He had married in 1747 Mary Brown (1725–1807) – daughter of Thomas Brown and Priscilla Johnson – by whom he had four daughters, including Margaret (1761–1825) from whom TSE was descended by way of her marriage to Thomas Dawes (1757–1825): their daughter Margaret (1789–1875) married Wm. Greenleaf Eliot Sr. (1781–1853). Another daughter by the name of Elizabeth (1749–1841) married Samuel Eliot (1748–84). TSE’s boast that he was descended from all of the Greenleaf daughters is impossibly grand.
11.Francis Underhill, Prayer in Modern Life (1929).
12.Joseph (‘Joe’) Clayton, who lived in Chipping Campden, was a friend of EH and the Perkinses.
13.BedeJarrett, Bede Jarrett, OP (1881–1934), English Dominican friar, historian and author; founder in 1921 of Blackfriars Priory, Oxford. He was a friend and close associate of Joseph Clayton.
14.Not identified.
4.E. MartinBrowne, Elliott Martin Browne (1900–80), English director and producer, was to direct the first production of Murder in the Cathedral: see Biographical Register.
12.JosephClayton, Joseph ('Joe') ClaytonClayton, Margaret, FRHistS (1867–1943). Clayton was a journalist, author and historian; editor of The New Age, 1906–7; Catholic convert. Resident in later years in Chipping Campden, where he and his wife Margaret became friendly with the Perkinses.
3.Bonamy DobréeDobrée, Bonamy (1891–1974), scholar and editor: see Biographical Register.
AnnFaber, Ann Faber (1922–78) was born and registered in Hampshire: her mother would teasingly refer to her as a ‘Hampshire hog’. She was a boarder at Downe House School, Berkshire, and read history at Somerville College, Oxford (where she became engaged to Alan Watt, who was to be killed at El Alamein). After Oxford, she spent time with the Wrens in Liverpool. Following her military service Ann was employed as secretary by the classical scholar Gilbert Murray in Oxford. She then moved to London where she worked for the family firm in editorial and publicity, as well as writing and publishing a novel of her own, The Imago. However, in Aug. 1952 she suffered a life-changing accident when she crashed her motorcycle, which resulted in the loss of the use of her left arm. (In the mid-1960s she was still doing a little freelance work for Faber, reading manuscripts for Charles Monteith and – in 1967 – arranging a lunch party at her home for the science fiction writers James Blish and Brian Aldiss and their wives.) In Apr. 1958 she married John Corlett, who had two children – Anthony and Brione – from his first marriage, which had ended in divorce. Ann and John did not have children of their own. In the early to mid-1960s Ann and John spent some weeks or months of most years in the West Indies. John had launched and Ann helped with a business called Inter-Continental Air Guides: their firm sold advertising space to hotels and other tourist destinations for inclusion in guidebooks which Ann compiled. In 1966 Ann and John moved from their flat in Highgate to Wiltshire. In the late 1960s or early 1970s John contracted polio while on a work trip to Hong Kong. He became a paraplegic and for the remainder of Ann’s life she was his primary carer, with financial assistance from her mother. During all the years that she had her own property, whether in London or in Wiltshire, Ann’s great love was her garden. Ann died of cancer in March 1978. John survived her by two or three years.
1.TSE was mistaken here. EnidFaber, Enid Eleanor Eleanor Faber (1901–95) was the daughter of Sir Henry Erle Richards (1861–1922), Fellow of All Souls College and Chichele Professor of International Law and Diplomacy at Oxford University, and Mary Isabel Butler (1868–1945).
11.GeoffreyFaber, Geoffrey Faber (1889–1961), publisher and poet: see Biographical Register.
11.JohnHayward, John Davy Hayward (1905–65), editor and critic: see Biographical Register.
13.BedeJarrett, Bede Jarrett, OP (1881–1934), English Dominican friar, historian and author; founder in 1921 of Blackfriars Priory, Oxford. He was a friend and close associate of Joseph Clayton.
2.JohnMorley, Donald Donald Innes Morley (b. 15 Mar. 1926).
4.FrankMorley, Frank Vigor Vigor Morley (1899–1980), American publisher and author; a founding editor of F&F, 1929–39: see Biographical Register.
7.GeorgeSaintsbury, George Saintsbury (1846–1933), English literary critic, scholar and historian; Professor of Rhetoric and English Literature, University of Edinburgh, 1895–1915. TSE had selected Saintsbury’s essay ‘Dullness’ to launch the Criterion: 1: 1 (Oct. 1922), 1–15.
2.LadySeymour, Lady Elizabeth Margaret (née Cator) Seymour, née Elizabeth Margaret Cator (1858–1958) – she lived to 100 – married Seymour at the age of twenty-seven; they had five children.
7.RevdSeymour, Revd Lord Victor Lord Victor Seymour (1859–1935), son of the 5th Marquess of Hertford: vicar of St Stephen’s Church, Gloucester Road, London, 1900–29; immediate predecessor to Father Eric Cheetham.
2.TheodoraSmith, Theodora ('Dodo') Eliot (TSE's niece) Eliot Smith (1904–92) – ‘Dodo’ – daughter of George Lawrence and Charlotte E. Smith: see Biographical Register. Theodora’sSmith, Charlotte ('Chardy') Stearns (TSE's niece) sister was Charlotte Stearns Smith (b. 1911), known as ‘Chardy’.
16.MargaretThorp, Margaret (née Farrand) Farrand (1891–1970), author and journalist – see Margaret Thorp in Biographical Register.
2.Revd Francis UnderhillUnderhill, Revd Francis, Bishop of Bath and Wells, DD (1878–1943), TSE’s spiritual counsellor: see Biographical Register.