T
[Collection New York Public Library]
TO ALVIN AND MARIE DEWEY
[Playa de Aro, Spain]
12 August 19[60]
Darling hearts—
So glad you enjoyed your California trip. Had a letter from Jennifer, who adored you both; so did David.
Just back from London, where I went to talk to Dr. Joseph Satten of the Menninger Clinic. Gave me some new material on Smith and Hickock; quite interesting. He says he knows for a fact that Docking is going to commute the sentences if he is re-elected.32
I bought the bullfight sword for Dewey and sent it via a friend who will mail it from New York. It is a dangerous little weapon, so please be careful.
Nelle’s book is high on the best-seller list; she has gone home to Monroeville for a month. And yes, my dear, I am Dill. The first two-thirds of the book are quite literal and true. The trial, no.
More later. Much love
T
[Collection New York Public Library]
TO CECIL BEATON
15 August 1960
Dearest—
Rcvd. your letter after I’d come back from London; hope you are having or have had, a luxurious rest on Capri. I was in London only two days, and spent most of them talking to the psychiatrist in a horrible room in a horrible hotel called the Cumberland: however, he was very helpful. Had a drink with the Messel-Hansens (Vaughn: “Well, you can imagine, my dear: one morning we woke up and found ourselves the uncle of queen and all that sort of thing.33 So no one can top us now, not in England. We’re getting 10,000 pounds just to do Liz’s clothes for Cleopatra34 etc & etc.”) and a dinner with Jamie Hamilton—oh, the boredom of him!35 And that was that. I did miss your not being there, and do wish you could come here before going to N.Y., but guess you’ve used up all your holiday. Have had several letters from various sources making mention, mostly flattering, of That Person:36 “Everybody in London knows that he (you) is in love with her, but she has several suitors and seems undecided; her friends think he will wait awhile.” So I gather matters are still where they were. The weather here is wonderful (but London, my God: rain, rain, I thought it was winter), and my work goes well. We are negotiating for a little chalet, or apartment, in VERBIERS [sic], which is not too far from Lausanne—and will move to Switzerland in early November. So I hope you will come to see us in the snow. Try to send a line before setting off for N.Y. Jack sends love. Mille tendresse [sic]
T
[Collection St. John’s College, Cambridge University]
TO ANDREW LYNDON
[Playa de Aro, Spain]
6 Sept 1960
Angel,
I should not have thought it possible to be shocked without being surprised: still, that was my reaction to this tragic news.37 For it is tragic, and so inexplicable: why, indeed, did he have to tell ALL, especially why implicate by name all these others (poor Ned Spofford, a gentle, charming, gifted boy: much the nicest friend Newton ever had)? The situation might have been “contained” if he had not done that: but now—I wonder. The last time I saw Newton, two winters ago, I rather thought that sex had taken over—do you remember my telling you about the enormous amounts of money he was spending on photographs, films, erotic objects? And I suppose the police have got hold of those famous diaries, and that great collection of indiscreet letters: perhaps it’s just as well yours truly is living abroad. Well—what to do, how to help: I shall write Newton at once. If there is any more about it in the papers (and I have a ghastly feeling there will be a great deal more unless Smith can somehow silence the constabulary) please send it pronto.
Our summer has been even quieter than yours. I have been working constantly, and with great intensity, on the Kansas book. I dread it, dread having to live with this material, this “force”, day after day, but am absorbed by it, dedicated to it, emotionally involved in a sense that I have seldom been before.
No, Harper is not here; not long ago she wrote that she was going to Alabama for a few weeks rest-up: poor darling, she seems to be having some sort of happy nervous-breakdown.
Dear one, I am delighted that you have been making real progress with the long story—“gloomy” or not, I long to read it: perhaps, when it is finished, you will send me a carbon?
Jack is working, but on what I know not: he’s being secretive. All the animals okay. We are staying here until Oct 25th, then going to Switzerland, though exactly where is still undecided. I want to stay abroad until I’ve finished the book, so probably won’t be home until next fall.
Write at once! I do miss you, dear heart; Jack sends love, so does
T
[Collection New York Public Library]
TO NEWTON ARVIN
[Playa de Aro, Spain]
6 September 1960
Dear Sige,
I have had a letter half-written to you for several days; then this morning, in a letter from Andrew, who enclosed a clipping from a Boston paper, I learned of last week’s unfortunate event. Well, what’s happened has happened; and it has happened to many others—who, like Gielgud, took it in stride and did not let it be the end of the world. All your friends are with you, of that you can be sure; and among them please do not count me least: aside from my affection, which you already have, I will be glad to supply you with money should the need arise. This is a tough experience, and must be met with toughness: a calm head, a good lawyer. This combination has won-out over and again for others similarly involved. I am certain it will all blow to sea; but, meanwhile, I am most awfully concerned for you, Sige: so, if you can, please send some word.
Love,
T
[Collection Smith College Library]
TO ALVIN DEWEY
[Postcard] [Playa de Aro, Spain]
15 Sept. 1960
Dear Foxy—
What a surprise! Hearing from the Master himself! Bless you for your help with Logan Green:38 the result was excellent. When am I returning? Not until the book is finished: you’ll probably have grandchildren old enough to read by then. Seriously, the book is going well and I think it is good.
Love to Marie and the boys; always
T
[Collection New York Public Library]
TO ANDREW LYNDON
[Playa de Aro, Spain]
15 September 1960
Dearest One,
Damn it to hell—I wrote you a long letter immediately upon receiving that appalling clipping—and I think I sent it to Nelle’s address, which is also a 403. I also wrote Newton that same day: very difficult, what can one say? But of course have had no reply. Have you heard any more about it?
When my letter comes back, I will simply mail it again, as it contained our news, not that there is any. I figure my book may take almost two years more, and I don’t know that I can live with it that long without having a crackup; moreover, it is so painful I don’t know who will ever be able to read it. As I wrote you, we will be here until the end of October, then going to Switzerland, where am negotiating for an apartment in a little town called Verbier. But nothing definitely settled.
My God, what a time you must be having in New York, what with hurricane Donna, and now Kruchchev [Nikita Khrushchev] and Co.39 As Estelle [Winwood] said to Tallulah [Bankhead], “We’re well out of that one, dear.”
Had a letter from Donny, who is visiting the Baroness in Denmark.40 With Sandy, of course: Christ, what a suck that Sandy is. I gather they are both rather peeved with me because I wouldn’t write a blurb for that boring novel of his about T.W. [Tennessee Williams].41 Still, I will always like Donny.
Darling, I hope your long story goes well; write me soon, real soon. All animals are fine, and send you a lick. Jack says hello and love. Many, many hugs, dearheart—
T
[Collection New York Public Library]
TO NEWTON ARVIN
[Playa de Aro, Spain]
Sept 16 1960
Dear Sige,
Was not only happy to have your note this morning—it also made me happy: of course your friends are crowding round—you are very much loved. I wish I were in America, so that I could come to visit you.
I am hanging on here until October 25th—hoping to reach a certain point in my work; and then am going to some quiet village in Switzerland—I think Verbier: but am not certain. In any event, I will be in touch, and will write you long before I leave.
Take care! Love,
T
[Collection Smith College Library]
TO RICHARD AVEDON
Playa de Aro
Costa Brava,
Spain
22 September 1960
Dickaboo—
Your silence has been noticed, and noted. Though I’m sure you have adequate excuse: read where you had taken all the photographs in the September Bazaar, and, aside from that, have done so most stunningly.
Finally received those due-last-April royalties from Simon & Schuster—had decided they were either crooked or bankrupt. (something wrong with this pen).
I have been working steadily; it couldn’t be more difficult, or go more slowly, but what I’ve done so far seems to me quite good. Am in constant, almost daily, contact with Kansas, and much (too much to tell in a letter) has happened.42 Perry and Dick are still awaiting the outcome of their appeal—but Perry has been starving himself, has gone from 168 pounds to 112, and may not live to hang: in any event, he has lost his mind: believes that he is in continuous communication with God, and that God is a great bird hovering above
