[No surviving envelope]

1.Note from Woolf not found. TSE to Woolf, 12 Nov. 1935 (Letters 7, 827): ‘IWoolf, Virginiaon TSE visiting Rodmell;c1n should like if I might to bring another American friend to see you (who is not only an admirer but I believe admires your works in the right order – I mean, I always prefer people to like best what I have written most recently, & in that order backwards). Anyway, I have heretofore protected you against Americans who wanted to get at you through me – you have no conception – and this is on my own initiative, as she would never presume to press forward.’

TSEHale, Emilydescribes tea with the Woolfs;h5n took Emily Hale to tea with Woolf on Tues., 26 Nov.

Hale described ‘taking tea with Virginia Woolf and Mr Woolf’, in a letter of 6 Dec. 1935 to her friend and colleague Ruth George (1880–1959). A long extract was published by M. J. Dunbar in Virginia Woolf Miscellany 12, (Spr. 1979), 3; but here is the letter in full:

19, Rosary Gardens,

South Kensington, S.W.7.

December 6, 1935

Dearest Ruth,

Your letter of late October was such a joy, comfort, and privilege to receive, that by the measure of my gratitude and love to and for you, you should have been swamped with my answers ever since. The best news in the letter was that of your returning health and I do hope that this strength grows in spite of heavy demands of work. Your news of dear Mons. Caillet [sic] was the worst, except for the blessed fortune which spared him to us.

As to coming to see you, Ruth, how I wish I could. Wetravels, trips and plansEH's 1934–5 year in Europe;b4EH sails for Boston;f1 sail for Boston the Friday of next week. IWare, Mary Lee;b2n shall be with my old friend Miss Ware with whom I lived in Boston before, but how long I shall stay there I do not know. All my energies must be devoted to finding some sort of position for the coming year. Of course I feel I cannot return to Scripps, unless Dr Jaqua makes the first move and even if he did, I do not know that I could be confident of my future standing at the college. I grieve over this forced severing of a possible return, than over the actual mess of last year. Should I find I had the money to come out, I should, on the pretext of seeing to my things, and I should come to you, dear Ruth, and ask for the unfulfilled visit to the Ranch also.

IWoolfs, thedescribed in their Tavistock Square domain;c4nWoolf, LeonardWoolfs, theWoolf, VirginiaWoolfs, the can think of no Christmas greeting more to your taste, than for me to try inadequately to tell you of my taking tea with Virginia Woolf and Mr Woolf, last week Tuesday. Of course this was done in the company of Tom Eliot, who is one of a closer circle of friends, admitted to their life. They live in the upper floors of their press, the Hogarth, and in ample tree shaded Tavistock Square. We mounted one flight of stairs to a narrow door locked, till opened by a neatly dressed charwoman who led us up another flight, narrow and steep, at the top of which we removed our wraps. Taking breath, we ascended yet again, to the small, low-ceilinged dining-room, whereSpender, Stephenat the Woolfs with TSE and EH;b5n our hosts had preceded us, with the other guest, young Stephen Spender. In the soft light of a small lamp on the square tea table, MrsWoolf, Virginiadescribed by EH;c3n Woolf rose to greet me, and I thought of you even then, as I faced a very tall slender woman, dressed in a dark non-descript dress, over which was worn a short dark velvet coat. The simple dark clothes set off to advantage the small head carrying a wealth of grey hair, thick, but soft, which she wears simply off the forehead, andRossetti, ChristinaVirginia Woolf's hairstyle likened to;a5n massed in a great Rossetti like coil at the nape of the very long slender neck.

A narrow dark ribbon binds the hair accentuating the pre-raphaelite impression. The features are delicately modelled, if claiming no regularity of beauty, and although the face is lacking in mobility, as we think of the term, there appeared to me a sense of the mind’s attentiveness and colour, (if I may so put it) traceable under the mask-like expression, mask-like except for the eyes, which register the reaction of each moment. A strong impression of cool detachment constantly contradicts itself by an equally strong impression of highly charged concentration. Her manner is not one to place people at ease, quite frankly speaking, though with Tom Eliot and Spender she was simple, friendly and responsive in an almost girlish way. I sat opposite her at the tea-table, an excellent place in which to listen (yes, listen, not chatter, Ruth) and to observe. MrWoolf, Leonarddescribed by EH;a4n Woolf was at my right, as thin as she, but much less tall; the face is almost emaciate, the features very aquiline but not necessarily Hebraic, the expression warmer than hers, especially the eyes which to me revealed a number of qualities, as patience, weariness and isolation. He carries on his shoulder, not an atlas worth of care, but a tiny marmoset, who lives on this human hill crest all day long, peering out at one, first from one side, then the other; this tiny furry ball has a long tail which hangs down from his master’s neck almost like a short queue, slightly confusing at first. I found myself getting on very well with Mr Woolf, who consciously or not puts one soon at ease. After an introductory theme of marmoset and affectionate spaniel Sally, who was at our feet, he took up a more serious note of conversation, asking thoughtful questions about America, questions almost naïve, like an inquiry ‘whether the American Indian mingled in our good society’. For the most part, the conversation was upon topics and personalities, known to the other four, Stephen Spender being very much at home with his hosts also, and by his very boyish open eyed, gentle manner, affording an interesting contrast to the profundity of his remarks. Tea was simple, but abundant, a comb of honey from the Woolf’s [sic] country place, receiving second place of honor with Mr W’s birthday cake which his very old mother never fails to send to each of her children on the anniversaries; there is a very odd assortment of furnishing in the dining room and in the larger drawing room below, whose walls are covered with decorative panels by Mrs V’s sister, Vanessa Bell. There is a slight French flavour in this room, but I had the impression that their surroundings made little difference to either of the owners, or at best are artistic too unconventionally to be admired by the average visitor. Downstairs Mrs W addressed several questions directly to me, suddenly but very carefully, so to speak, as if it really mattered what you answered her, and you found yourself wanting very much to make it matter and were curiously aware of your English as you answered. She sat quite gracefully, on a small sofa at the further end of the room from S. S. and me (I had hoped she would be next to me) andsmokingas practised by Virginia Woolf;b4n smoked languidly but in a very practised way. The impression of cool, half mocking detachment began to lessen, it became a reserve, a shyness, a husbanding of fine abilities for the moments when they must be used and tested. As one felt the atmosphere warming and jollier, an interruption unwelcome to all of us, I believe, came in the shape of two French visitors, a man [Gillet] connected with the Revue des Deux Mondes, and his wife. Mrs W began in French with him, which I am told she does not like to speak almost [sic] she does it well. There seemed no need for us to stay, nor promise of a return to the earlier mood of the afternoon, so we said good-by [sic]. Since then I wrote to tell Mrs W. of how much I had enjoyed her books (I had no good chance to, you can see) and I referred to you as a lovely personality who admired her from far away California.

Now I must stop, although I have many other things to relate, all making it very difficult to leave London. I wear the lovely scarf you gave me, by the way. All warmest Christmas greetings to the Masts, please, to you dear love and wishes for a blessed New Year,

————————Your Emily Hale

P.S. I read to Tom much of your letter and he loved it, too.—[Scripps]

WoolfWoolf, Virginiaon meeting EH;c4n, for her part, reported to Ethel Smyth on 26 Nov. that she found Hale a ‘dull impeccable Bostonian lady’ (The Sickle Side of the Moon: The Letters of Virginia Woolf, V: 1932–1935, ed. Nigel Nicolson [1979], 442).

WritingMurder in the CathedralVirginia Woolf's aspersions on;b6n toWoolf, Virginiaon Murder in the Cathedral;c5n Ethel Smyth on 13 Nov. 1935, Woolf called TSE ‘that lily livered man. I went to his play [Murder in the Cathedral] last night, and came away as if I’d been rolling in the ash bin; and someone filled my mouth with the bones of a decaying cat thrown there by a workhouse drab’ (ibid., 442). Woolf to Smyth, 16 Nov.: ‘No, my criticism of the Murder was a violent flare, not to be taken as serious criticism. Though violent flares are always good evidence. The truth is it acts far less well than reads: can’t manage the human body: only a soliloquy’ (ibid., 443). (In early July 1935 she had felt ‘proud’, she told TSE, to receive an inscribed copy of the play.) To Angelica Bell, 18 [17] Nov: ‘We went to see Tom Eliot’s play the other night. I think what is wanted is for some actress to make plays in which people are like ourselves only heightened; what is so bad is the complete break between the acting, the words and the scenery. Thus you lose all feeling of harmony’ (ibid., 444). To Stephen Spender, 19 Nov: ‘we can discuss the interesting case of the Murder in the Cl. I rather suspect it is human nature that floors him: when its in the flesh’ (ibid., 446). To Julian Bell, 1 Dec.: ‘We went to see Toms play, the Murder, last week; and I had almost to carry Leonard out, shrieking. What was odd was how much better it reads than acts; the tightness, chillness, deadness and general worship of the decay and skeleton made one near sickness. The truth is when he has live bodies on the stage his words thin out, and no rhetoric will save them’ (ibid., 448).

2.J. G. LockhartLockhart, J. G. was a Director of The Centenary Press, London. TSE contributed ‘Religion and Literature’ to Faith that Illuminates, ed. V. A. Demant (Centenary Press, 1935), 29–54.