[22 Paradise Rd., Northampton, Mass.]

I must admit that there has been a silence due to my taking four days in bed. I hasten to add that it was prudential, rather than obligatory. I had never quite got rid of a bronchial catarrh since my cold at Christmas time; I am always slow in throwing this off after a cold; and this time, partly through having to be out in the evening and having to go away for two weekends directly afterwards, but mostly because of the extremely bitter weather, it had hung on for a whole month. I had no temperature, so I could have continued to get about; on the other hand, I would have taken a few days earlier except that it would have been very unpleasant to be in bed while there was no water supply. (That, of course, may have played its part too, as having to take baths in the middle of the day, at club or office, is not the best thing in cold weather). So I sent for the doctor, who gave me a lung medicine, slept for most of three days and frittered the fourth, and am pretty well recovered. I am not to be out in the evening during this week, andMoot, The;b1 very likely shall not go to the Moot meeting over the weekend (ifBrowne, Elliott Martinwar work with Pilgrim Players;d3 I don’t go, however, I shall have to go to the Saturday matinée of Martin’s Pilgrim Players who are in London for a week). The weather has now become much milder, and many people are in bed with mild forms of influenza (to which I am less susceptible). IEast CokerTSE on writing;a6 am not working very hard – though not wholly idle, as I am fiddling with a poem which may take some time to get right after I have finished it, and may not be good enough to keep when I have. ItpoetryTSE on writing after long intermission;b9 is a year since I have done any work in verse; and I never expect, after so long an interval, that my first efforts will be good – they are apt to be imitations of myself – which is more depressing than finding that one has imitated somebody else. I think that it is partly a kind of stage-fright; when one is out of practice, the writing of verse seems to require an unattainable intensity of feeling; so that it is hard at first to be simply honest with what is in one’s mind, without worrying whether it is poetry or not. IYeats, William Butler ('W. B.')stimulates East Coker;c2 haveEast Cokerand Yeats's Purgatory;a7 encouragedYeats, William Butler ('W. B.')Purgatory;c6 myself by reading a posthumous one-scene play of Yeats’s called ‘Purgatory’, a very remarkable piece in the amount of drama that he manages to concentrate into a small space, with very little action, and mostly retrospective action brought out in the dialogue between only two characters: it was all the more helpful because the verse is very rough and not distinguished musically or metrically.1 Also'Views and Reviews: Journalists of Yesterday and Today';a1, INew English WeeklyTSE writing 'Views and Reviews' for;a4 have written a piece for the N.E.W. and'Views and Reviews: On Going West';a1 have another in mind that I want to do: 2 that is the vehicle in which I can most easily express my opinions, as the editor and chief contributors are the nearest to my own way of thinking. AndOldham, Josephviews diverge from those of TSE;d4 nowChristian News-Letter (CNL);b3 that Oldham has taken up with (a) Vickers’sVickers, Geoffrey;a1 view on Education, which I do not like,3 andWells, Herbert George ('H. G.')opposed by TSE on Rights of Man;a3 (b) Wells’s movement for the Rights of Man, which I consider still crazier,4 I need something else besides the C. News Letter. It is these ideas that are almost, but not quite right, that seem to me the most dangerous: thereTemple, William, Archbishop of York (later of Canterbury)careless enthusiast;a9 are so many people, like the Archbishop of York, who will subscribe to them without giving enough attention to their possible implications. I suppose Wells is getting a big press in America too. At this rate, I shall have material for another little tract for the times which I should like to call ‘Follies of 1940’.

MartinBrowne, Elliott Martinunavailable for modern-dress Murder;d4 won’tMurder in the Cathedral1940 Latham Mercury revival;f8wartime modern-dress production suggested;a2 be able to produce the modern-dress Murder. It might perhaps be a good thing to have a Murder done by someone else with a fresh approach, if the right person can be found. IDukes, Ashleysuggests wartime Murder revival;f8 don’t think Martin quite trusts Ashley to find the right person, and it is going to be difficult for me to form an opinion about some unknown (to me) candidate from the possibly diverging views of the two. All I can do is to keep in touch with both, and insist on an informal preliminary discussion with any possible producer, to find out what his notions are before it is given to him. VeryFogerty, Elsie;b6 likely nothing will come of it at all: because it may prove impossible to get a good chorus, with Elsie Fog now settled in Exeter. Not that I am particularly desirous of having another chorus of Elsie’s young ladies, if more mature voices could be found I should prefer it; but it is Elsie’s training that would be missed.

IHale, Emilyfamily;w4EH photographed with parents;a7 amHale, Emilyphotographs of;w7with mother and father;d6 very glad to have the little snapshot of you with your father and mother – quite good of you, not bad of your mother, but what a pity that your father is obliterated by that patch of light; the photographer was very inexperienced, evidently. But one gets the feeling of the group, which is the main thing about such a photograph. I think you have mentioned your half-uncle before; and of course, as he was so much older than your mother and aunt, he must have been almost as remote as another generation. I can sympathise with your difficulty in correcting papers. It seems to me odd that in a college you should have to correct the papers which you have yourself set – that is all the more difficult: but for a conscientious person, when you cannot simply tick off answers as right or wrong (like dates) and have to form a general impression of the grade, it is very painful work. Then too, you no doubt worry lest, when your mind is tired from correcting, you may not bring the same lucid judgement to each, and so may be unfair. And one’s standards and one’s mercy come into conflict. MyCriterion, Thereading poetry submissions for;b8 worstreading (TSE's)poems submitted to Criterion;h3 travail, in editing the Criterion, was in reading the poems submitted; after half an hour of manuscripts they all seemed to me thoroughly worthless; so, as twenty minutes was about all I dared to give to it at a time, the verse often accumulated faster than I could dispose of it. In doubtful cases, I kept the poems by me and re-read them at intervals, so as to try to discount my feelings on any particular day: but you can’t do that with examination papers. I am delighted to know that you are to talk to the alumnae about your work; I suppose that you will talk from very brief notes or none, so that there will be nothing in writing to show me. I am always longed [sc. longing] to be invisible and hear you conducting a class or a lecture – but perhaps you wouldn’t mind knowing that I was present? After all, I found it stimulating to have you in my audience, on those few occasions!

AlanTate, Allenat Princeton;a3 [sc. AllenPrinceton Universityand Allen Tate;b3] Tate is a first rate man, and Princeton will probably do well to keep him a second year if they can. Itravels, trips and planspossible wartime transatlantic crossings;d7TSE's reasons for and against;a4 have been thinking over your hint. Of course I am very much torn anyway, between wanting to come to America and not wanting to be away from England at a time like this – you will understand that, I am sure.

Apart from my three reasons for wanting to come (in order of importance: to see you; toSheffield, Ada Eliot (TSE's sister)war jeopardises TSE seeing again;h2 see Ada (because she is getting old, and the future is uncertain); toEliot, Henry Ware, Jr. (TSE's brother)war imperils final reunion with;f1 see Henry (because he is infirm) I foresee a great strain in being away from this country, especially if I kept wondering whether there was anything useful that I could be doing here. But the only thing that I do not want to do, is to seek, or to give any handle to people for believing that I sought, an engagement: I should feel differently about an invitation that came out of the blue. In any case, I should certainly consult the Foreign Office – and if they strongly wished me to go, that would be a great moral help. Six months or so would be a compromise, or even three, that might be acceptable. Itravels, trips and plansTSE's abortive 1940 Italian mission;d8possible but confidential;a1 am told that there is a possibility (this is entirely confidential at present, you understand) of my being asked to go to Rome for a few days in the spring, to lecture – not on war aims! but on literature; and this might pave the way to further engagements farther afield. I will let you know about that as soon as there is anything tangible.

I must get this off before I go to report to Dr. Orme, as I promised to do this morning – he will probably put me on some winter tonic now; but this is only part of my letter. The rest (referring to the latter part of your letter no. 21) I shall try to get on with tonight. I have a week to catch up with. This will go by air mail, and the next instalment by ordinary mail; and you will report to me on the relative speeds of the two routes.