I then took the matter up with Knopf, telling him of the new poems and that I had come to the conclusion, in view of the new poems, that a book of poems alone would be the best thing for you. He said that he would be glad to look at the new poems. I then sent the whole thing, poems and prose, including the new poems and prose, to Knopf. He telephoned me a few days later that he was willing and anxious to publish the poems in a volume by themselves. I think that you now have enough poems to make one good volume. I think therefore that you should revise your desire to have the poems and prose in one book. Everyone seems to agree that a hybrid book of that sort does not get anywhere. Max Eastman had a small book of prose and verse published and it fell flat,2 and others have had the same experience. All the publishers are dead against it. It looks too much like the literary ‘remains’ of a writer, or a writer who is neither one thing nor the other. When your poems and prose were first submitted to Knopf I insisted upon both going together because I thought there were not enough poems for a book. But with the new poems I think you have enough for a separate volume. I agreed with Knopf that the book should be entitled Poems by T. S. Eliot. I dislike, apparently as much as Knopf dislikes, the name Prufrock in the title. He thinks that title would hurt the sale. I agree with him. Knopf pays Pound 10% royalty on Lustra up to 5,000 copies. I hope Pound and I will live to see the sale of 5,000 copies of Lustra but at the present rate of sale that would insure our living a long time. Beyond 5,000 copies I believe Pound is to get 12½%. I got Knopf to agree to increase the royalty to you from 10 to 12% on all copies sold.
It is too late for the fall list. The fall list of books is already out and published. I told Knopf that I would write you urging you to accept Knopf’s proposition of a book of poems and ask you to cable me. On receipt of your cable I will sign a contract with Knopf similar to Pound’s contract with him for Lustra, at 12% royalty, and Knopf will start printing. The volume will have to go in the spring list which will be out in two or three months and the book itself ‘will be published early in the year’. In fact the spring list is now about complete. So I had better be cabled one word, ‘Accept’, either by you or Pound, which I will understand as authorizing me to close with Knopf for the publication of the volume of poems. A separate volume of prose, critical and other prose, may be arranged later.
Now as to time: Assuming that you would want page proofs before final printing, Knopf should have the final copy not later than October 1st. If therefore you have written any new poems which you want to include in the volume, they will have to be sent by the middle of September so as to get here by October 1st.
In a letter that I had from you just before I went away, dated May 25th, you wanted to alter the MS. for the book so as to add two or three other essays, feeling that the new essays were better than any in the MS. But these questions can be dealt with when you come to publish a separate book of prose.
There was received at my office on July 22nd your letter of July 9th enclosing the additional MS. of new poems and prose. I understand where you want the new poems to go, namely, that they should be put at the head of the new poems, the ones not in the Prufrock volume, and that if you had put the new poems in front of the Prufrock ones then these new poems enclosed in your letter of July 9th should head the new book. Knopf said that he liked the old poems better than the new ones and I am inclined to agree with him, but they are all interesting and it will make a corking book. If you agree to my suggestion that the poems be put in one volume, then there will be more time to discuss the prose and to pass upon the various questions touched upon by you in your letter of July 9, 1919 to me regarding titles, acknowledgments to other publishers, and the possible dropping of the ‘Eeldrop and Appleplexes’. You wrote that you wished that you were anywhere near satisfied with the book. I think that putting the poems in one volume and taking more time on the prose will make you more satisfied with the two books. In your letter of July 9th you left it in my hands ‘in all confidence’, but at the same time I feel it is better to get a cable from you, and if you should have one or two more poems that you want to include please send them to me and I will put them in the book. Even though they get here by October 15th it will be time enough, although Knopf mentioned October 1st.
I had not seen the reference to you in the New Republic. I will call it to Knopf’s attention and he might be able to use it on the jacket of the book of poems.
Thank you for thinking of sending me a copy of your book of poems when it is printed by Rodker with designs by Wadsworth.
There is no good book on Stendhal in English. If Secker commissions you to write such a book it will be a big job, and I agree with you that £25 does not seem enough for such a big job.
Regarding my defense of Ulysses, I shall have to read it again before I can give permission to have it published in the Egoist. I dictated that one evening in the office at the close of a hard day’s work, and I remember that I had a dinner engagement that evening. I started to dictate it at ten minutes of six and finished the dictation at twenty minutes after seven. So I hesitate to agree that a mere lawyer’s brief, on which he has spent just one hour and twenty minutes, should be perpetuated in a paper like the Egoist which has published so much real literature. I am sorry that the publishers of the Egoist have decided to stop, but from the financial point of view I think they are right to devote the money at their disposal to book publication, even though it does rob Pound and you of an organ where you can express yourselves editorially and freely. I congratulate you upon your work with the Athenaeum. Knopf had heard of it.
Your letter of July 9th was forwarded to me in the mountains and it was refreshing to read it. I was delighted with its fine spirit and its hopefulness. The best advice I can give you is to ‘play your own game’, to think of yourself and your own work and not be carried away by enthusiasms for others unless they are good friends of yours like Pound, and in that way help you to play your own game or advance work that you are interested in in common.
In a note that I had from Pound today from Dordogne he said that he expected you there in a week’s time, so I am sending the original of this letter to you in London and a copy of it I am sending in a letter that I am writing to Pound, so that I will get you either way and you can cable me as requested, and if you have any new poems you can send them to me.
This, I believe, covers the whole thing.
I am glad that you are going down there to have long walks and good talks with Pound. It will be a good thing for you to get away from business for three or four weeks.
With kind regards, I am
Sincerely yours,
[unsigned]
1–Boni & Liveright, New York publishers, founded in 1917.
2–Max Eastman, The Ballad of Joseph the Nazarene by ‘Williams’ and A Sermon on Reverence (1916).
TO His Mother
MS Houghton
3 September 1919
18 Crawford Mansions,
Crawford St, W.1
My dearest Mother,
I got back from France on Sunday night.1 I did not write you any letters while I was there, but I knew you would understand why I did not: I wrote only cards to Vivien, and did not read at all.2 I enjoyed my holiday thoroughly, and feel (and look) very well indeed, so you need not be worrying about me. I think I made the most of my time.
I had very little difficulty in getting a passport, and left at 5 p.m. on a Saturday, getting to Havre at 8 the next morning. There the passport stamping took so long that everyone missed the train. By attaching myself to a French couple I found that I could get a train from Trouville, a seaside resort nearby, which might get me to Paris in time to catch the night train for Périgueux. So we boarded the small steamer and proceeded along the coast for an hour’s journey on a blazing bright August day, the boat crowded with people going to the races, and men with violins and singers passing their hats. It was all so French and so sudden that I was dazed by it. Trouville is a very expensive and famous resort, a long beach w
ith villas and casinos and big motor cars, and I was not surprised to have to pay 11 francs for a very good lunch. I loafed about till 4.30, and got to Paris at 8.15. My train left there at 9 from a different station, but I dashed through the Place de la Concorde in a taxi, and just caught it. The taxi-driver was a very polite person – I was counting out the money slowly, having lost my familiarity with the coinage, and he said ‘That’s enough’ indicating a small tip. So I gave him a bit more, and said ‘That’s because I have not been in Paris for eight years’; he roared with amusement, and waved to me as he drove off. I looked out of the window most of the way, being too excited to sleep. At 4 we reached Limoges, where I waited an hour for my train. I got into a carriage which had been German, and found myself in the company of two young soldiers on leave, who played the accordion the whole way, looking at me for approval and swaying in unison. It began to be light, and I could see the beautiful landscape of Périgord, hilly and wooded, very different from Northern France. You feel at once that you are in a different country, more exciting, very southern, more like Italy. The South of France is as different from the North as the South and North of England. Finally, at 7.30 in the morning I reached Périgueux very hungry, where I last was in January 1911. And there Pound met me at the station. I spent part of my vacation with him in the village of Excideuil, and part on walking trips alone.
_____________________
I am going to continue this account in my next letter; if I tried to tell it all at once I should omit parts. Thank you very much indeed for the $50; it helps very much on the expenses. I found Henry’s letter at the bank, and yours came yesterday.
Then your cable, which came when I was away. It was very sweet and kind of you, but I am really very well and strong now. My holiday did wonders for me. It was a complete change. I shall take care (V. says she will take care) that I don’t lose the benefits of it by overwork. I shall not lecture this winter, but will write for the Athenaeum instead. I shall not lecture unless the cost of living keeps on advancing – it is difficult in these days to be certain of anything far ahead.
I found Vivien in bed with a serious attack of bronchitis. As her family were in the country she has no one to look after her but our servant, who leaves at 8 in the evening, so that she was always alone at night. She had concealed her illness from me in writing, so as not to diminish my pleasure in the trip. I should like her to go to the seaside for a few days when she gets better, as she has still a nasty cough and is very pale.3
I have a great deal to write about and reply to, but must postpone it till Sunday.
Always your loving son
Tom.
1–VHE’s diary, 31 Aug.: ‘Still in bed. Tom came home. Arrived punctually. Sent Molly to meet him. Has begun to grow a beard. Very nice at first, depressed in evening.’
2–VHE had written to MH, 31 Aug.: ‘France really has swallowed Tom up. He promised his doctor neither to read nor to write a word while he was away, and he is certainly obeying him!’
3–Three days later, VHE wrote in her diary (6 Sept.): ‘Frightful day of misery. Felt very ill, packed all morning, left for Bosham at 3.40 with Tom. Perfect weather.’
TO His Mother
MS Houghton
9 September 1919
[London]
My dearest Mother,
I am just writing a line by this mail as I have so much to do, and will continue my letter about France on Sunday.
Our new department1 is installed, if not exactly started. I have a table at a big front south window looking over the square toward the Mansion House, in a fine impressive room. I believe I shall have a French typist for foreign correspondence.
When I get settled, and have proved my efficiency in the new work, I intend to get leave, within the next six months, and fly over to see you if only for a few days. I may not be able to give you notice, but I shall expect to bring you back with me.
Always your devoted
Tom.
1–The Information Department at Lloyds Bank.
TO J. C. Squire
MS UCLA
10 September 1919
18 Crawford Mansions
[Dear Squi]re,1
[I] have been walking in France, and [your] letter, after being forwarded from Marlow, [came] for me here. I should like to see you [and to hear] about the Mercury2 and its scope, and [I shall] probably come in after tea one day next [week and hope you] are there. I am trying now [to restrict my] periodical writing to one or [two reviews] in order to get material for a [bo]ok, and so I don’t know whether I could [f]it you or not. But I should like to talk to you.
Sincerely
T. S. Eliot.
1–The left side of the letter is badly torn; bracketed readings are conjectural.
2–Squire’s London Mercury first appeared in Nov. 1919. TSE never wrote for it.
TO Ezra Pound
MS Beinecke
Friday [12? September 1919]
[London]
What else was to be expected? I will come in tomorrow (Sat.) p.m. at 8.45 to refresh you for a few moments with the sight of my beard.1 If you are out, n’importe [no matter].
T.
1–See RA’s account of his anxiety about the possible effect of TSE’s beard on Bruce Richmond, editor of the TLS, at their first meeting, when TSE arrived wearing ‘a derby hat and an Uncle Sam beard’: ‘he looked perfectly awful, like one of those comic-strip caricatures of Southern hicks’ (Life for Life’s Sake: A Book of Reminiscences [1941], 269). For Richmond, see Glossary of Names.
TO Henry Eliot
MS Houghton
14 September 1919
18 Crawford Mansions
My dear Henry
I am ashamed of not having written sooner after my return. On finding your two letters with the two cheques. I do think it is munificent of you. I have put the money in deposit account, and it will at least be as safe with me as with you, as I don’t intend to spend it. When I have more money I shall of course invest, but at present I feel safe with it in a tangible form.
I had a very delightful trip and feel in much better health for it. I have written some account of part of it in one letter to mother, and shall continue it in my next, and you will doubtless see these letters. France was certain to set me up. The relief of getting into another country after five years in one spot, and being able to speak another language, is a great stimulus and tonic. I should like to get to Italy next year, but I am not sure that I can manage. I wrote to mother that I should try to come over for a short visit as early next year as possible, and to do this I may have to forgo my summer holiday; though what I should offer to the bank would be to take three weeks or a month without salary. I don’t think the visit to America will be exactly a rest. If mother would come over here in the spring I should defer coming to America till the following year; but if she doesn’t, I shall nevertheless expect to bring her back to England with me, which would give us quite a long period together. What I am convinced of is that by coming here she would have the chance to rest that she badly needs. I fear that she has done far too much this summer, and that there is no one about her who knows how to check her. I hope I shall be kept better posted about her than I was about father.
I have been very busy since I got back. Vivien had a very bad attack of bronchitis while I was away which kept her still in bed for a week after I returned. Then Murry (the editor of the Athenaeum) had to take his wife who is consumptive to the Riviera, and asked me to do as much as I could in writing during the month he is gone. So I have just done two long articles, one on Swinburne and the Elizabethan drama and one on Hamlet.1 In the spring I expect to collect my essays into two volumes, one containing essays on criticism and poetry, which the Egoist will publish, and in which I mean to put everything I have written about the writing of poetry. The other will be Studies in Renaissance Literature and will be an adaptation of essays in the Athenaeum, and this a man named Cobden-Sanderson2 wants. I shall also have a new edition of poems up
to date, and I just hear from John Quinn that he has arranged for Knopf in New York to print the American edition at 12%, also in the spring.
I feel pretty tired now, after a long walk this afternoon with Maurice, and then pursuing Hamlet, or I should like to take up your long reply to my long letter. But that will keep. Meanwhile I am glad you have got a pleasant room by yourself, and can I hope at least read undisturbed.
Always very affectionately,
Tom.
Henry Adams’s book is more than good. It is unique.
1–‘Swinburne and the Elizabethans’, a review of A. C. Swinburne, Contemporaries of Shakespeare, ed. Edmund Gosse and T. J. Wise, A., 19 Sept. 1919; repr. as ‘Swinburne as Critic’ in SW. ‘Hamlet and His Problems’, a review of J. M. Robertson, The Problem of ‘Hamlet’, A., 26 Sept. 1919; repr. as ‘Hamlet’ in SW.
2–Richard Cobden-Sanderson, printer and publisher: see Glossary of Names.
TO Sydney Schiff
MS BL
Sunday [14 September 1919]
18 Crawford Mansions
My dear Schiff,
Thank you for your letter. My trip was a complete success: I feel very much better for it. I have been very busy since my return. Murry has had to take his wife to France, and wants me to do as much as I can during his absence.
I am glad you have found a house you like better, and hope you will find the conditions more favourable to work than the former turned out to be. It is always difficult to know how much of oneself to give to other people.