
Another instance where Eliot succeeded in flummoxing high minded intellectuals was at the Wednesday Club in 1956 - the writer Paul Bloomfield reported the following. Asked for his favourite passage of English prose, the great poet at once replied, assisting his performance with the appropriate gestures:
'Well,' cried Boss McGinty at last, 'is he here? Is Birdy Edwards here?'
'Yes,' McMurdo answered slowly, 'Birdy Edwards is here. I am Birdy Edwards.'
After a bemused silence, in which none knew, or cared to admit they knew, the source, Eliot pleasantly revealed it: Conan Doyle's The Valley of Fear.
When Bertrand Russell died, Valerie Eliot, the poet's widow, wrote of her husband’s favourite story.
ReplyDeleteLate one evening, TS Eliot stopped a taxi. As he got in, the driver said: “You’re T S Eliot.” When asked how he knew, he replied: “Ah, I’ve got an eye for a celebrity. Only the other evening I picked up Bertrand Russell, and I said to him: 'Well, Lord Russell, what’s it all about?'
"And, do you know, he couldn’t tell me.”