[22 Paradise Rd., Northampton, Mass.]
I think that this is letter No. 21! I know I forgot to number my last letter, a week ago, but I numbered it in my diary; but my 1939 Diary is put away at Russell Square, and I must get it out to verify. If 21 isn’t right I will correct in the next letter.
I have not expected a letter from you this week, because I knew you were in New Bedford: a letter might take longer, and still more likely that you would not have time to yourself for writing. I hope that you have been resting well there: you are now back in Northampton, in the middle of work. I hope that the weather in New England has not been so arctic, relatively, as that in Europe. It has been very cold here; with one light snowfall in London, but mostly too cold for that. But cold weather on the continent is to be wished for.
ITandys, thehost TSE in Dorset;b3 went rather unwillingly to the Tandys last weekend, as I did not relish leaving London in such cold weather – thoughEnglandDorset;e6TSE's Tandy weekend in;a3, once one got west of Wiltshire, the temperature was distinctly milder; west of Wiltshire there were no traces of snow. It was a tedious journey too: there was just not time for lunch in the train before reaching Salisbury, where I had to change for Axminster; the train was standing in the station, and nobody knew when it was supposed to leave, so there seemed to be no time for a sandwitch [sic]. In fact, the train did not leave for half an hour, and then was a non-corridor train stopping everywhere. Four and a half hours from London to Axminster (where they met me with a car) and still longer back on Monday, as the train was three quarters of an hour late: the Monday train was supposed to have a restaurant car (from Templecombe) but it didn’t, so again no lunch. However, as I said before, their cottage is in the loveliest country imaginable, and the weather there was fine. ITandy, Alisonher birthday in Dorset;a5 went because they particularly wanted me for the New Year, because it was Alison’s birthday, because I had presents which the children were expecting, because Tandy may not get another leave for six months, and because they are dear people. Well, it did me no harm, and my cold is gone, though I am always left with lingering catarrh for weeks after a cold, especially when the weather is so bitter.
IRodrigues, AgostinhoTSE sitting for;a1 have had to give a couple of sittings to a Portuguese sculptor, who is doing busts to exhibit in a World’s Fair at Lisbon in the spring.1 He came to me with an introduction from the Portuguese Ambassador here; and I thought, well, it will be bad if a man like that comes to London and can’t get any distinguished sitters – Portugal our oldest ally etc. and susceptibilities easily offended; so I thought that I ought to be one of the sacrifices. I don’t know that he is a very good sculptor; he seems to have specialised in doing sharks and other fishes, which he does very well according to his photographs, and anyway the bust is going to Lisbon: but he has said something about wanting to present me with it afterwards, which is very alarming. What could I do with a bust of myself? You can’t even send it to a church Jumble Sale.
TheFaber and Faber (F&F)on war footing;e2 publishing business is quiet at this time, as always, andFaber, Geoffrey;h2 Faber is in Wales. AOld Possum’s Book of Practical Catsselling strongly;d1 goodBoutwood Lectures (afterwards The Idea of a Christian Society)selling strongly;b5 many of my books were sold during the week before Christmas, bringing the total up to 4100 Cats, and 3100 Society, which is good.
This weekend I have to go to a theological conference at Jordan’s; and after that I hope to remain at home for some time to come, and, I hope, start some private work. AllSecond World Warthe 'Phoney War';b5 the more because I do not feel at the moment that I have anything to say in print about public affairs at the present time. It would be unsafe, in such a situation, to predict one’s feelings even from week to week; but for some time past I have felt so long as this deadlock endures there is nothing to say about it.2 ThereSecond World WarMolotov–Ribbentrop pact;b6 may be great social changes to come, but it is quite impossible to discern their outlines; and the forms they take may depend very much upon events which have yet to occur and which cannot be predicted. I thought last year – as I daresay other people thought – that Germany and Russia would eventually draw together: but I did not expect that to happen so soon as last September,3 so my foresight was not very helpful. So many things have been different from expectation – nobodySecond World Warthe 'Winter War';b4, at least without private information, could have anticipated the invasion of Finland – and even then, it has been a surprise that the Finns have done so well. EuropeEuropethe effects of war on;a7 seems at present like a kaleidoscope of unforeseeable configurations. One is content to let publicists like H. G. Wells go on talking, as they always will; while chimaeras like the Federal Union occupy the minds of those whose minds have remained in 1918. In any case, comment on passing events is not my forte – certainly not on events on this scale. What one has to try to do, is to keep oneself alert to the significance of social changes within the country, and not give too much time to international affairs, of which one has no direct knowledge. I sometimes turn on my wireless to hear a piece of music, orMurry, John Middleton;b2 if someone I know, like Middleton Murry, is speaking: but rarely to hear the news. That is not what I expected when I bought it.
I must stop now – ISt. Stephen's Church, Gloucester Roadvestry goings-on;a2 had a lot of New Year vestry correspondence to start the morning with, writing to people who haven’t paid the subscriptions – not a congenial task: andBelgion, Montgomerylonely;c3 now I see it is time I went to lunch with Belgion, whom I lunch with about once a fortnight merely because he is a lonely creature. This is a poor letter: there will be a better and more personal one when I get back from Jordan’s: but I cannot write properly when I am pressed for time. My dear, with all my devotion,
1.AgostinhoRodrigues, Agostinho Rodrigues (?1912–95), sculptor, was born in Madeira; worked for a while in London before leaving in 1940 to study in the USA, where he passed the rest of his life.
2.There was so little fighting between the Anglo-French and German armies deployed along the Franco-German border that the period became known as the Phoney War from Sept. 1939 until May 1940.
3.Signed in Moscow on 23 Aug. 1939, the Molotov–Ribbentrop Pact – a Treaty of Non-Aggression between Germany and the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics – cleared the way for their joint conquest and partition of Poland.
4.MontgomeryBelgion, Montgomery (‘Monty’) Belgion (1892–1973), author and journalist: see Biographical Register.
11.GeoffreyFaber, Geoffrey Faber (1889–1961), publisher and poet: see Biographical Register.
1.JohnMurry, John Middleton Middleton Murry (1889–1957), English writer and critic; editor of the Athenaeum, 1919–21; The Adelphi, 1923–48. In 1918, he married Katherine Mansfield. He was friend and biographer of D. H. Lawrence. His first notable critical work was Dostoevsky (1916); his most influential study, The Problem of Style (1922). Though as a Romanticist he was an intellectual opponent of the avowedly ‘Classicist’ Eliot, Murry offered Eliot in 1919 the post of assistant editor on the Athenaeum (which Eliot had to decline); in addition, he recommended him to be Clark Lecturer at Cambridge in 1926, and was a steadfast friend to both TSE and his wife Vivien. See F. A. Lea, The Life of John Middleton Murry (1959); David Goldie, A Critical Difference: T. S. Eliot and John Middleton Murry in English Literary Criticism, 1919–1928 (1998).
1.AgostinhoRodrigues, Agostinho Rodrigues (?1912–95), sculptor, was born in Madeira; worked for a while in London before leaving in 1940 to study in the USA, where he passed the rest of his life.