[No surviving envelope]

The ‘Aquitania’ brought me your long and welcome letter of the 24th, and is now, I trust, carrying back two letters from me – this boat and the ‘Bremen’ and the ‘Europa’ and one or two others seem to have a letter between us, one way or the other, on every voyage. YouGwynne, M. Brooke;a5 will be glad to know that at last Miss Brooke-Gwynne is coming to see me – to have tea – this afternoon, her first appointment having been during my illness (I am perfectly well, but have I believe a few pounds to make up). ‘TheAuden, Wystan Hugh ('W. H.')The Dog Beneath the Skin (with Isherwood);d5 Dog beneath the Skin’ proved unexpectedly enjoyable, being really very well produced and acted. The staging was simple and left much to the imagination, without being crude. What emerged, however, is the tediousness of that kind of chorus. TheyIsham, Gylesin Dog Beneath the Skin;a1 hadTurleigh, Veronicain The Dog Beneath the Skin;a1 two people, a man and a woman (Gyles Isham,1 who was bad, and Veronica Turleigh,2 who was good) who stepped up between the scenes, in white masks and white gloves. I don’t quite see how the play, as at present constructed, could do without the chorus, because it consists of not very closely related scenes which do not work up any cumulative effect – you merely think ‘that was a good scene’ – ‘that one was not so good’ – and you did some explanation of the transitions. Nevertheless, one comes to feel the chorus more and more as an interruption, and one gets tired of having to have things explained, and being preached at. I believe that a chorus of two is more tedious than a larger varied one; and that a small chorus, particularly, ought to be more integrated with the action. TheRock, Theits choruses;d7 chorus of the ‘Rock’ had this weakness, of course, and even the verse no longer seems to me very good: but it got away with it with the audience partly because it was a great novelty, and partly because of the pleasure of following the variations from voice to voice.

IMurder in the Cathedralthe form of its choruses;b8 was much interested by Miss Gilman’s criticism of ‘Murder’, though I do not agree with her.3 My chorus, of course, on the stage is not really very Greek, as it is probable that the Greek delivery was very different, andFogerty, Elsiepioneer of contemporary chorus;b3 I think this partition work of voice is quite modern and more or less invented, or at any rate nearly perfected, by Elsie Fogerty. And I can’t see that the chorus is any more archaic than the speeches of the tempters! Verywritingand originality;b7 likely there is a better form of chorus to be devised – I hope there is, because I like to think that there are discoveries to be made – but I don’t believe that anyone could hit upon a new and perfect dramatic form just out of his own head. I do not see how drama can be written, except by gradual evolution of an existing form, or, if there is no active form that suits one’s purposes, then one must go back deliberately and work from an older form – though a man may hope, with practice, in time to develop something new out of the old. The amount of originality even in ordinary poetry is less than people often suppose: one normally starts by adherence to an existing model, either immediately preceding oneself or of an earlier age, or of a different language, and working towards originality – because originality is something (as distinct from mere eccentricity) that only comes with labour and experience. Now, I can’t see, from your report, that Miss Gilman gave any reason for not working from a Greek model, except that she doesn’t like it. Does she think that one must invent something completely new? The writing of plays is something that needs to be learnt, and one has to make use of the experience of others. I know that I have a good deal to learn, about dramatic structure etc., but I couldn’t learn much from contemporary drama, because I think verse drama is not merely a play put into verse, but something which has different laws than prose drama. ItShakespeare, Williambut equally wariness of;a4 is much more possible to make use of the Greeks, without being merely imitative, than it is to follow Shakespeare. Several times, in the course of writing ‘Murder’, I found myself falling into Shakespearean blank verse – whenever one is napping, the magnetic pull of that vast power displays itself – and my Shakespearean verse was always bad. The, at times, rather violent alliteration of a fifteenth century kind, was a needed support in the fight against blank verse. And I can’t see that going back to AEschylus (whose metric I couldn’t imitate anyway, because I am not a good enough Greek scholar) is any more shocking than to go back to William Langland and pre-Renaissance English metres.

Of course, I don’t want just to stick in the exact choral form of ‘Murder’. I want to try very small choruses too (for a practical reason as well, because a chorus like that of Murder’ has to be so well done in order to be worth doing at all) and have them still more involved in the action. And I want eventually to get away from having bits that stick out as ‘modern’. That is too easy. The ideal is to get something of a homogeneous texture throughout, which shall be modern in the best sense, but which shall not assail the audience’s consciousness with any shock of modernity. The audience, in the end, if one gets a really good medium, should be affected by the verse without being wholly aware of it. They should not have to be thinking all the time ‘this is a play in verse’; the poetry should be perfectly transparent, and simply operate on the sensibility of the audience as to give them the highest possible emotional intensity in their feeling of the action.

ThenMurder in the Cathedraldefended from obscurity;b9, as for being obscure – I don’t think there is much obscurity in ‘Murder’! except that some things will be plainer to people familiar with Catholic doctrine than to others: and I want to get a pure simplicity in drama. ButBurnt Nortonobscurity of;b2 there are legitimate uses to which obscurity can be put in other poetry. The obscurity that a man cannot help is a weakness, because if one has to be obscure always it probably means that one is not in complete control either of feeling or expression. But deliberate obscurity is sometimes justified by the possibility of obtaining effects that way which are otherwise unattainable. ‘BurntSt. John of the Crosshis obscurity;a3 Norton’ would have to be rather obscure in any case, because the experience dealt with, both in its simplicity and in its complexity, is obscure – and it’s much simpler than St. John of the Cross, upon whom I draw! But that doesn’t mean that I am about to surround myself forever in a cloud of invisibility.

IMorleys, thesee EH in Boston;g1 am glad that you saw the Morleys by themselves, as I am sure that it would be more satisfactory than a collective party. I expect to see him by the middle of next week.

IBrackett, Louisa;a2 amSt. Catherine's School, Richmond, Va.ultimately disappoints her;a5 thoroughly exasperated by Mrs Brackett’s playing fast and loose with you in that way. It is very inconsiderate of people either to hold out improbably [sc. improbable] hopes, or to keep others in suspense. I can understand what the strain of going after several jobs can be, and dropping one to follow another, and so on, and then have them all dematerialise. So I beg you to face that strain consciously, instead of merely letting it work upon you, and try deliberately, as one must, to keep some calmness and stillness of emotion throughout. That is very difficult. You must fix your attention upon possibilities of work in the autumn – though not overlooking anything that may turn up meanwhile – and stay where you are at Brimmer Street and take care of yourself. And my dearest, I am depressed by the thin and arid life that is yours in these circumstances, especially knowing that you are a person who needs the emotional outlet of releasing your energy in impersonal work. (ToPerkinses, theTSE encourages EH's independence from;f4 dedicate your life to your aunt and uncle would be a form of suicide – which would not be good for them either, in the long run). And one does need, for one’s development, the society of a variety of people holding various and conflicting views, so that one’s mind about things shall be made up by oneself and by no one else. Oh dear, it irritates me so that I have to make an effort to stop thinking about it after a while, when I think of the kind of life you deserve and need and ought to have even when thinking of the best life for you by yourself, or without me, and not even thinking of what we both want).

FrederickEliot, Revd Frederick May (TSE's first cousin)compared to Martha;a5 has energy and efficiency, butEliot, Dr Martha May (TSE's cousin)superior to brother;a3 I think that his sister Martha is much his superior mentally, and I think has a clearer and more penetrating mind.4 Hers is a more thorough-going mind; and I admire people who see through compromise and evasion.

Suffering does not automatically do people good; in fact it may be that the majority of people, who are semi-conscious, are better without the deeper forms of suffering. But one has to deal with it by becoming more conscious, by trying to understand it and see one’s own pain in relation to the pain of the world as a whole and the mystery of pain; and one can make oneself a better person, more of a person, more oneself, through whatever comes.