Love et mille tenderesse [sic]
T
P.S. Everybody loves your Isak Dinesen picture in the new Bazaar.
[Collection St. John’s College, Cambridge University]
TO THE DRAMA EDITOR OF THE NEW YORK TIMES309
[New York]
[13 February 1955]
Last Sunday, you printed a letter by Members of The Friday Drama Group in Montclair, N.J. These ladies wished to “protest vigorously” the theme of “House of Flowers.” So far, no quarrel. * * *310 The picture conjured of the Friday Drama Group, their offended sensibilities at a Stradivarian pitch, sitting down all in a huffandpuff to write a letter to The Times, is, come to think of it, rather endearing.
But then the picture changes, a shadow falls across the cheerful scene of busy scribblers, and you realize that here after all is not a Hokinson idyll, for suddenly there occurs an ugly theory to the effect that the production of “House of Flowers” is harmful to “racial relations.”311 Now I don’t like this. * * * Surely chauvinism is the last fault that can be claimed against our musical. If this were not true, then a host of intelligent and talented artists, including Pearl Bailey, Juanita Hall and Frederick O’Neal, would not be connected with it. As far as “racial relations” are concerned, the only possible damage that could be done by “House of Flowers” is if it bored you: boredom is fatal to all relations; and somehow—don’t ask me why—I have the oddest feeling the ladies from Montclair were not that.
TRUMAN CAPOTE.
TO JOHN MALCOLM BRINNIN
As from—
300-½ E. 65th St.
October, 1955
Dear M—
Despite the (to me) startlingly unjust contents of your Portofino card, I hopefully assume it was intended as some sort of good-friend, stern-critic comment.312 If it was meant otherwise, and your words were weighed, then frankly, dear-heart, I don’t know what the hell you are talking about. You have, and will always, a most particular place in my affections. If I have dissapointed [sic] you as an artist (as you suggest), that is one thing; but certainly as a person, as a friend, I have done nothing to deserve your misguided candor. If memory serves, this is the second time you have rounded on me; on the previous occasion I correctly deciphered the clumsy hand of Mr. Goyen. But I am not a detective by profession, and so shall have to leave the clues to this latest attack untraced. However, rest [assured] in the knowledge that you are on the popular side; my stock in all quarters is very low, and if the numbers of folk I have apparently offended were laid end to end they would girdle the globe.
As for Jack (about whom you are so bitter), Jack is Irish. He talks. He talks for the fun of it, and for the moment: and no one is immune—me (least of all), his family, his friends, himself. You know that. And really, dear, I have to laugh: I think you’re more than a bit of an ass, a jejeune [sic] jerk, if you start getting riled over Dunphy’s little sallies at this point.
I’ve had a quiet, working summer. Moreover, I lost thirty pounds: am just a svelte bag of golden bones. We’re going back to the city next week.
Please reconsider, and write your perhaps unworthy, but still loving, very loving—
T
[Collection University of Delaware Library]
TO JOHN MALCOLM BRINNIN
[Telegram] [New York]
[November 1955]
I THINK YOUR BOOK313 IS WONDERFUL LOVE
TRUMAN
[Collection University of Delaware Library]
TO CECIL BEATON
[New York]
Nov. 12, 1955
Darling Sizzle—
Miss you! The weather here is wonderful, fresh as the first bite of a macintosh. I hope you got a thorough rest on the boat ride. You’ll be amused to know that ‘Chalk Garden’ has become the rage: people can’t afford not to see it. Your article was in The Tribune today, and the play itself is getting terrific publicity.
I went up to Boston with Audrey [Hepburn] and Mel [Ferrer] to see Julie Harris in ‘The Lark.’314 Julie is playing St. Joan like ‘Member of the Wedding’ in a pair of B.V.D’s. Will be a hit, though.315 Went to the opening of ‘The Vamp’—dreadful, including Carol Channing.316 And not long for this world, I daresay. Am going with Ina [Claire] to see J. [Joyce] Grenfell tomorrow night. Ina is going to start giving acting classes! She is buying an apartment in New York.
Ann Woodward continues to occupy the front pages—but those who discuss it have had to move to L’aiglon since Mr. Soulé closed the Pavillion.317 L’aiglon has upped its prices.
I am still working on my various stories, and Audrey Wood is still trying to decide to whom she should submit Jack’s play. I’ve lost five pounds more, and though I’ve given up dieting, can’t seem to stop losing weight. Very odd.
Ran into Herman Levin, who told me how thrilled they all were with your ‘Pygmalion’ designs.318
There is other news, much and lots, but I have to start typing now. My love to your mother, and please give best regards to Eileen [Hose]. All the love in the world, precious one
T
P.S. Poor Bob Sherwood died this morning.3
[Collection St. John’s College, Cambridge University]
TO DONALD WINDHAM AND SANDY CAMPBELL
[Postcard] Leningrad319
[27 December 1955]
Dear-hearts—
Love to think of you, cozy and warm. It’s thirty below here. But Leningrad very beautiful, like an arctic Paris. Am returning to Moscow next week. Whole experience pretty extraordinary. Miss you. Love
T
[Collection Beinecke Library, Yale University]
TO JACK DUNPHY
[Postcard from the Hermitage Museum]
Leningrad, Dec 27 [1955]
Dearest—such a pity the Hermitage is being wasted on me (how you would adore it) though I do love to go and stare at the jewels. Did I write that I’d bought you an Astrakhan cap? Tell Joan [McCracken] there is no such thing as a “little peasant” coat.
Love
T
[Collection Gerald Clarke]
TO CECIL BEATON
[New York]
May 15, 1956
Cecil dearest—
It was a terrible disappointment to me not to have had a little holiday with you somewhere. But then, just as I was arranging to meet you in Paris, I got a cable that made it imperative I return here at once. I had only two weeks to finish my Russia articles (which are coming out as a book in September) if I wanted the New Yorker to run them. But that was the least of it—too involved to go into here.
I didn’t know about Peter’s death until your letter came, and it touched and grieved me very much.321 I know what a tragedy it has been for you to lose a friend, and a friendship, that has meant all he has meant in your life. Especially in the spring, when one is so longing for beginnings, continuations; not endings. Your letter made me inexpressibly sad; for you, for Peter. He loved you, Cecil: you were his youth, as much as he was yours. The last time I saw him, in Rome, 1954, he told me you were more marked by “tender honesty” than anyone he’d ever known. I remember because I liked the phrase “tender honesty,” and knew what it meant.
My summer plans are still a little vague; there is a charming house on the Connecticut shore that we will probably take. But I do not expect to get away from here before the middle of June. Jack’s play is being produced, supposedly in the Fall, by a new company, Horne & Lloyd—who seem very clever without being shady, and who seem to be well capitalized.322
I miss you, dear heart. I admire you as a man as much as anyone I’ve ever known. But more importantly, I deeply love you—
T
[Collection St. John’s College, Cambridge University]
TO CECIL BEATON
3 Gold Street
Stonington, Conn.
June 21, 1956
Dearest C.—,
At last, a moment to breathe. Finished my “New Yorker” pieces (I will send the issues; it’s coming out as a book “The Muses Are Heard” in Sept.), and a few days ago settled down for the summer in this really charming old seaport village. You would adore it. The most beautiful trees and old houses. We have a huge, rather amusing house with wonderful views. We will be here until the end of Sept. Then we are moving to Oliver [Smith]’s Brooklyn Heights abode, 70 Willow Street. You’ve seen that house? I love it. We rented the floor that leads onto the garden; it can be made into something very attractive. There is another apartment on the top-floor—terribly pretty—and Oliver is determined to install you there. So am I. Think it over; dear-heart. It is both a fun—and a practical—thing for you to do. You can be anywhere in Manhattan in fifteen minutes, and you have your own kitchen et al. Please come live with us, my love.
I saw “My Fair Lady” 3 times. It’s probably the best show I’ve ever seen, and I was so proud of your work: you, Rex and Moss (and Shaw!) are the heroes of that production.323 Went to the openings of “Shangri-La” and “New Faces”—gruesome, both of them.324 Read the new Carson McCullers play that Saint is producing: have read worse, but can’t recall when.325 Am reading Forster’s book about his aunt: delightful.326 Saw Huston’s
