Letter from Edward Thomas to the poet Gordon Bottomley. Sent from Berryfield Cottage, Ashford, Petersfield, Hampshire. Archival ref: 424/1/1/1/10/122
Ashford
13.ii.09

My dear Gordon,

When I tell you I have delayed writing to you
because I have been writing not reviews, nor commissioned
books, nor landscapes, but character sketches stories etc
I believe you will forgive me. Since the beginning of the year
I have had an outstanding energy in writing & have
done nothing else & only been town for the day. Yet I have
come this afternoon a little before tea so I can send you a
word. I don't know what these sketchs will turn out to be.
for I have been too busy to copy them, except one or two
that are short. Most are unfit for the papers & magazines
by being too unpleasant, or too fanciful, or too quiet.
So it seems to me I shall have an empty belly ( I haven't earned
anything yet this year). But I shall make up for that by a
swelled head. Garnett tells me he likes the Jefferies very much
& his praise means a great deal so I feel his ideas have
ramified through me until there is little else, at least when
I am writing of books. Then the 'Times' had a favourable
& long notice. Galt wrote saying he thought my work good.
But really it is my improved health & self control
(due to my new doctor) that make me so cheerful now. I
wake, I walk & I sleep & I [illegible] make people
miserable. All I want now is my house & study on
the top of the hill & they are just at the foundations now &
the traction engine is always panting up the long road
round the coombe with bricks.
Before I forget Mathew Symms will shortly be
dead of General Paralysis of the Insane. The usual cause
you probably know, but the day it did not exist in his case & they talk about overwork. I hear his latest essays to
be printed soon in a book on the Romantic Movement
are very good. - I am glad you liked Storer &
above all that you liked Melusine. I did hear the author's
name but forgot it. He is an old Winchester boy, aged
about 35 who has been in India 15 years or
nearly, I believe. Isn't it odd.

Haynes was married some years ago.
Bronwen was bridesmaid to an Oxford contemporary
named MacAlister, now secretary to the R. I. B. A.
after W. J. Locke.
My fingers are getting numbed by the N. E.
wind.
I sold my Wildes or would gladly lend you
the Poems.
Thank you for suggesting Barnes but he would
hardly been turning into the big book Methueus want. I
have done with 'county books' so-called now,
though of course my sketches are full of landscape.
Yes that is a child's hand on the back
of the Venus [illegible]
O yes isn't Davies fine now? I
ws terribly excited over the new book. It was almost
incredibly good. Yeats wants him to 'cultivate
his instrument' more. But Davies wouldn't
know what the phrase meant.
I have not come round to your
view [illegible' but am glad to admit I feel the
essence of Anabel Lee e.g. to be perhaps as
fine as that of any lyric in the world. When I
found fault - & the faults are Most
unpleasant - I was still in the stage when
one wants all women's noses to be straight o
else perfect curves (like why the'Strand' used to
call types of English beauty). However you &
Garnett have slowly cured me. Only I will
never read Toc again. What he has enabled me
to feel is so much beyond his words even to
my purified eyes.
Goodbye & excuse my cold hands. This
is the 2nd day of continuous N. E. wind, hard &
dry unfoot & soft milky blue overhead.
Yours ever & Emily's
Edward Thomas

Guthrie's landscape is the finest he has done.
It belongs to me in a sort of way & I treasure
it but have to lend it for an exhibition
that G. hopes for.
Let me know a good time about Gunnard
please