The
different voices he has writing to his different correspondents come over
remarkably like the different voices of The Wasteland. It is almost uncanny.
The popular nonsense sections sound like large parts of his correspondence to
Conrad Aiken, which really makes one wonder about his motives there in contrast
to the interpretations of the critics. The high-minded philosophic letters
(their implications) with Bertrand Russell are the very positions he later
laments and suffers for. Throughout it all the increasingly paranoid
correspondence of Vivien runs through the playfulness &c. like a sinister
jinx.
All
of Eliot’s early letters display a deeply felt response to others, a perfectly
formed sense of expression, but vivacity, charm, wisdom ready to be tested. The
stunning moment after his father’s death where he mourns for all that his
father wished to do with his own life and never achieved; hoping that he can be
everything his father would be proud of, then asking for his father’s fun
drawings of cats. In one fell swoop, the germ of the Practical Cats. Could they
be Eliot’s Eine Kleine Nachtmusik?
Entry
in Notebooks, 22nd March 1990
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