What ever happened about Goyen? Not a word from him have I heard. Did Faulkner enjoy his trip to Paris?
Give my best to Bennett and Bob Haas. Write me all your news. Love
T
[Collection Columbia University Library]
TO CECIL BEATON
American Express
Rome
October 5, 1952
Dearest bunny—
I suppose you’ve wondered at this lengthy silence, but it was rather an ordeal quitting Taormina. Finally, we decided to spend the winter here in Rome and have found, I must say, a beautiful apartment, a dream, really; I have fallen quite in love with Rome, it’s an enchanting city if you simply settle back and don’t know too many people. The weather is wonderful—such still crystal October days, and I am working again: I finished, or have nearly finished the first act of the play, and have started a novel—which is perhaps unwise of me, still I could not resist it.
Had just to pause for lunch—we have a first-rate cook! Everything is so different from Taormina—I guess this is the first time in my life I’ve ever [rest of page missing]
I think I saw most all the reviews of ‘Quadrille’ and was delighted that you came out with such flying colors.245 But I know [Noël] Coward must have been dissapointed [sic]: the critics seem just not able to forgive him for past successes—they write like a peck of schoolboy bullies. How did the Lunts take it all? I saw a good deal of Thornton Wilder in Venice; he was very amusing on the subject of the L’s. But I daresay you’ve had your [unclear] of it now. Only do write me what storms, if any, have brewed in cloud Cuckoo land. Speaking of which, or at least of cuckoos, Saint writes now that he is coming over here in December. But I read in the papers where he is producing about three different plays, one by Frank O’Connor, which I hope is true. Jack is fine, and working well; he sends his best love. All our animals are fine, too. Honey, when do you go to New York? Be sure to answer that. It’s so sad, really sad, to think of not seeing you this winter—but perhaps I will. Has anything been settled about ‘The Gainsboroughs’? I miss you greatly, precious one. Write me as soon as you can, c/o American Express, Rome. Much love
T
[Collection St. John’s College, Cambridge University]
TO ANDREW LYNDON
c/o American Express
Rome
Oct 14, 1952
Darling one—
Was so happy to have your newsy sweet letter. I guess I must have written you that we have taken an apartment here in Rome—very sunny and charming, but alas much too expensive. Anyway, I guess we will be here for the next several months. If all goes well, I mean if I finish the play and anybody likes it, I suppose we will come back to New York in March.
I’m terribly upset about Nina and Joe moving to Cuba. I do hope it works out for them. In the meantime, I’m so afraid of all my books and mss. getting mislaid. Oh well. It seems so terrible that all this should have happened to Joe.246 I never get a personal letter from either of them, and so don’t know exactly what they plan. Is Tiny still at 1060?247 I wish you would let me know.
Rome is full of old acquaintances. Sister (you remember her? the famous Carson McCullers) and Mr. Sister [Reeves McCullers] are frequently to be observed staggering along Via Veneto. We don’t speak—or they don’t speak to me, whichever way you care to look at it. The Cow [Marguerite Young] is somewhere in a pensione—she has dyed her hair brick red. And just today I bumped straight into Messrs. [Gray] Foy and [Richard] Hunter. I plan, in the future, to only venture upon the streets when heavily veiled.
Next day—!
No sooner had I finished the foregoing paragraph than the doorbell rang and there were my in-laws: the Robt. Dunphys. Surprise, surprise. They stayed the whole day and half the night—Jack is prostrated. But I must say they were rather touching—recounting all their experiences in the most tedious detail. We are busily trying to convince them that they ought to go to Germany—at once. But I have a feeling that they will be around a good two weeks. Dost thou heart bleed for me?
Incidentally, when I ran into little Miss Cunter,248 she told me some wild story about Harold having a rich Texas lover who has set him up in business. Is there any truth in this?
Well, I’m glad you saw Phoebe and she seemed so well. I will write her soon. Two days ago I had a letter from her mother—enclosing my horoscope! All very peculiar.
I miss you so much, little angel. Write me soon. Jack sends love, so do all the animals, so does
T
[Collection New York Public Library]
TO CECIL BEATON
33 via Margutta
Rome
Nov 8, 1952
Cecil dear—
Had your sweet letter yesterday, on the eve of your departure, and so perhaps this will reach the Sherry-N. [Sherry-Netherland Hotel] about the same time as you. Poor darling, how wretched of them to take away your pretty apartment. I think it’s just a ruse to get you to decorate another flat free. But I do hate it that we won’t be in New York together. Still I’m glad you are there—and away from all your female obligations.
I saw an article in the N.Y. Times that Aldrich & Myers were ‘delighted with the alterations’ in ‘Gainsborough Girls’—and so I hope this means they are going to take the scenery out of storage.
I was offered the job of doing a film scenario for Vittorio De Sica, but hesitated so long that they got someone else. Now I’m just a little sorry, if only because it would have put an end to my financial straits, which grow increasingly severe. But it would have been dishonest of me to have accepted, for I did not feel at all sympathetic to the story they outlined, and besides I must, must get on with my own work.
Darling, I hope you can have an easier, at any rate less neurotic, rapport with Greta G. [Garbo] this winter. But I’m afraid she will never be a satisfactory person because she is so disatisfied [sic] with herself, and disatisfied people can never be emotionally serious. They simply don’t believe in anything—except their own limitations.
I am still enjoying Rome, it reveals itself to one a little more each day. It is a beautiful city, really—though inhabited by a quarrelsome and cynical race. I do not see any of ‘The Big Ball’ set—but have become rather friendly with certain of the intelligentsia. Outside of them, I guess the only person I see very much of is Orson Welles—who has grown somewhat pathetic, still he has a point-of-view and so few people do anymore.
I don’t know anymore whether or not Saint is coming here. Perhaps your presence will keep him in N.Y. You must be kind to him—I mean, if you are going to give him the axe, then do it by degrees.
I hope (so much) that we can spend your spring holiday together. At any rate, I will try to come to England when you return—when, more or less, do you imagine that will be?
I have exactly half-finished my play—I think just possibly it could, so far, be good, but such a great lot depends on other people, which is the curse of writing for the theatre.
Jack is fine, and sends you his best love. He is working well. But the animals get worse all the time. That dear Kelly bit me yesterday.
You are such a good friend to me, I respect and trust you almost more than anyone I know—and love you exceedingly, which is to say hugely
T
[Collection St. John’s College, Cambridge University]
TO NEWTON ARVIN
[Christmas card] [Rome]
[December 1952]
Sige dear—
Have been working like a donkey, for, in addition to everything else, I took on a movie job—that is, I rewrote the scenario for the new De Sica picture (he directed ‘Shoeshine’ and ‘Bicycle Thief’) and it had to be finished in 3 weeks as the picture was already in production.249 Anyway, the whole experience had its amusing moments, and I think I did a pretty good job, all things considered. But it meant interrupting my play, and now it is hard getting back. Did you go to N’hampton for Thanksgiving? Are you still going to N.Y. for a while? I think that is a good idea. I had a Christmas card from you yesterday, but it only said your name—not even love. I miss you a lot at Christmas time. Oh anyway, let’s forget Christmas, and think about the New Year and hope it will be a good one for us both. Write me soon, my dearest friend. I love you
T
[Collection Smith College Library]
TO ROBERT LINSCOTT
33 Via Margutta
Rome. Dec 27, 1952
Dear Bob,
I think you must have missed a letter from me, and a Christmas card, too. For I’m perfectly certain that I wrote you about the Dinesen project.250 Anyway, this is how the matter stands. I showed the story to Garbo, as the whole idea, to my mind, depends on her playing the part. Her opinion of the story was not very coherent (this is an understatement) … but
