Love
T
[Collection St. John’s College, Cambridge University]
TO GLORIA VANDERBILT356
Vulcania [ship]
[Lisbon, Portugal]
[May 1958]
Darling G—
The trip (so far) is vile—rain, black skies and curvy seas. But oh! but ah!—my clock, my little golden clock, is beautiful. No, G., you shouldn’t have! But I’m so glad you did. Because it is lovely, because it is here to remind me of you: and you, my darling friend, are a someone this someone wishes to be reminded of. I love you.
T.
P.S. More: when I have a harbor to report from.
[Collection Gloria Vanderbilt]
TO BENNETT CERF
Villa Meltemi
Paros, Greece
[June 1958]
Dear Bennett—
While in Athens, I received a long cable, followed by a phone call, from Clay Hill of Esquire—still pursuing “Breakfast At Tiffany’s.” They offer: they would buy the story from Harper’s and pay me an additional thousand dollars.357 From what he said I gathered he must have spoken to you directly and you were not opposed to their publishing it. Anyway, I said yes—though with some qualms. I hope I haven’t done a stupid thing.
This is quite a remote, and lonely place I’ve picked to spend the summer (no other foreigners at all etc.). But it is very beautiful, and I hope it will be good place to work: God knows, there’s nothing else to do: you would lose your mind.
Love to our mutual girl-friend. I miss you both.
Best—
Truman
[Collection Columbia University Library]
TO CECIL BEATON
Villa Meltemi
Paros, Greece
June 18, 1958
Dearest C.—
We love it: never liked anyplace more. Absolutely beautiful. Just sun, sea, and serenity. No tourists to speak of. The town is dead white—with blue courtyards and walls covered with morning-glory vine and terraces roofed with grape arbor: like a clean, coral casbah. And it is cool, by the way; even sometimes chilly—we sleep under a blanket. The food is fairly good, the wines delicious.
We are living in a very clean and delightful hotel. There is a little villa next door that we are trying to acquire. But really I don’t care if we do—because we have such a quiet pleasant apartment with a terrace overhanging the sea and a flight of stairs going down to a nice-enough little beach. All very comfortable; and if you come—if? you must—we will make a good arrangement for you.
Yes, you must come. It is a perfect place to rest and work and swim and nosey around. I’m afraid there won’t be much amour—the inhabitants being singularly unsophisticated. The island is 8 hours by boat from Athens—Try not to take a weekend boat as they are very crowded. The boat leaves Pireaus at 2 in the afternoon and you are here at ten in the evening. Not a bad trip.
Have so much to tell you—undoubtedly you’ve heard, or read, about my war with H. Bazaar. But am so completely unwound and relaxed that I can’t go into all of that just now.
Let me hear from you as soon as possible, dearest one. I long to see you. Love et mille tendresse [sic]
T
[Collection St. John’s College, Cambridge University]
TO NEWTON ARVIN
Villa Meltemi
PAROS, Greece
July 16, 1958
Darling Sige—
No, I am very happy here. And your amusing sweet letter made me more so. Hope you are again in correspondence with Hope. Actually, his letter to me consisted mostly of questions pertaining to you. Where did I meet you? when? the exact circumstances? etc. Well! I merely replied that you were a friend of many years, a brilliant and charming and loyal person to whom I owed much. Which is no more, and perhaps less, than the truth. But I doubt that I shall hear from him again; for, while my reply was most civil and pleasant, it was not quite what he may have hoped to encourage. Anyway, I’m sure more watermelons will arrive on Prospect Street.358
Dear boy, what are these Springfield pleasures? Boites pour les garçons gai? Or—quel? Tell.
Here, in the islands, all the men dance together—you never see a lady in the taverns. All very innocent, though—or so I think. But Athens! You can’t walk a block without being accosted ten times! No exaggeration. There is a bookshop, right on Constitution Square, that specializes in photographs and literature of a particular nature. I bought quite a satchel, and will pass it on to you, especially a volume called “The Sexual Life of Robinson Crusoe.”359 You wouldn’t believe what went on between the Old Boy and Friday! The whole notion opens vistas of pornographic possibility. Why not, à la Jane Austen, a pamphlet on what transpired between Mr. D’Arcy and his friend Bingley? or what happened when at last Mr. D’arcy got Elizabeth to bed. Or Topsy and Little Eva: muff-diving each other, while Simon and Uncle Tom buggered them both.360 And you can’t tell me that Tom Sawyer wasn’t in love with Huckleberry!
Haven’t read “Home from the Hills.”361 Will, though. Did read a book by a Dutch woman that I liked very much, “The Ten Thousand Things.”362 F. Buechner can write, but he can’t. Miss Grau is a bore.363
Listen, Sige. I am doing the commentary for a book of photographs by Richard Avedon.364 Am stumped by a portrait of T. S. Eliot. Don’t know anything to say about him. Is there, in his work, a stanza, a few lines, that you would say were self-describing? If I just could quote him, that would get me off the hook.
I said I was happy. I am; except about my work. Simply because I’m not able to work at what I want. I’m on some dreadful treadmill of having to do dollar-making articles: because of my internal revenue troubles, the Joe Capote problem (who, aside from all else, has now married an invalid who is living in a hospital at my expense); and, I suppose, my own past extravaganze [sic]. Meanwhile, I have a novel, something on a large and serious scale, that pursues me like a crazy wind: but! How did I ever work myself into this cul-de-sac? I have a very rich friend who I think, in fact know, would see me through (writing the book). I’ve never been in that kind of debt; I don’t want to be. Moreoever, it might ruin the friendship, which I value. Should I? Sorry to ask your advice on such an impossible subject; but you are one of the few I could ask. So forgive me.
Hope your researches, your writing goes well. Give my regards to Wendell. Happy Springfield! I love you, Sige, and always will
T
P.S. Yes, something more did come of the Bazaar mess. After I’d left the country, those swine sold my story to “Esquire”. To Esquire!!! And there is nothing I can do about it.365 When copies of the book are ready, I will have one sent you.
[Collection Smith College Library]
TO DONALD WINDHAM
[Postcard] [Páros, Greece]
Aug 10, 1958
Jack, too, has temporarily taken to his bed; but you, I hope, have risen from yours. Summer at its height here: figs ripe, grapes bursting, melons splitting at the merest touch; Kelly full of burrs, Bunky scratching all the time, me brown as I’m going to get; but the sunsets are ending sooner, and September sends cool messages at night.
Love T
[Collection Beinecke Library, Yale University]
TO DONALD WINDHAM
[Postcard] [Páros, Greece]
Aug 18, 1958
So happy you’re on your feet. Poor lamb, what a miserable experience. But I’m sure you’ll be ripping by the time I get home. Better be. [Christopher] Isherwood had the same thing; is fine now. Have just finished “Playback”, the new Chandler in which P. [Philip] Marlowe gets married.366 Am back with Proust. How sad, how strange about [William] Aalto.367 Well, [Elia] Kazan hasn’t shown up on this inaccessible island. Still like Greece, but have my doubts about the Greeks: the children are so horrid: have learned only five Greek words, in order to say: “Shut up, fat girl” and “Shut up, fat boy.” Bless you, sweet one, and love from all 4 of us—
T
[Collection Beinecke Library, Yale University]
TO DONALD WINDHAM
[Postcard] [Páros, Greece]
Aug 28 [1958]
This is a village in the mountains. Jack rescued a kitten some cruel people had thrown into the sea, and he’s made it live, a miracle.368 So now we are 5! Can’t think how we will ever get home. Hope you are now as strong as ever. Send a note. Love
T
[Collection Beinecke Library, Yale University]
TO CECIL BEATON
[Páros, Greece]
Sept 4, 1958
Darling Cecil—
Guess what? It’s raining!—oh, or rather it was: now, after 2 minutes, the sun is coming back.
How we miss you! It was so wonderful while you were here. In some ways the nicest of all our annual hols [unclear]. After you left, that night Jack suddenly said, “Cecil is a wonderful man.” High praise from him; but not a tenth what you rate from me.
Adored your Athens letter. Imagine bumping into all that crew: like going on the cruise without having to go.
Nick is very excited about his impending life in Wiltshire.369 You’d scarcely been gone 24 hours when he asked if I’d had a letter. He is full of questions: how long will it take to get the Labor [unclear] permit? After that, what shall he do? Who should he contact at the British Embassy? Will he go to England by plane? He is quite set to depart as soon as the papers are in order. I think he is going to work out fine for you—as long as he has access to the T.V. (I mean that seriously).
Kitty is fine, though last night she
