All love to All—
T.
[Collection New York Public Library]
TO CECIL BEATON
[Verbier, Switzerland]
4 Feb. 1963
Dearest Cecil—
I have been rising every morning at 3 or 4 to work—it is now 4. But yesterday I finished Part Three! I have never worked so hard in my life. But it is done, and I know you will be really thrilled by it. It is all I wanted it to be—which is saying a great deal. But I am exhausted; tense as nine newly tuned pianos—I don’t know how I can recharge myself to write the fourth and final section—which will take at least another year. If only I could empty my soul and heart and head of it for awhile.
Am still waiting to hear from Kansas, but will in any event leave here the end of the month. As for when I shall see you—why not California?1 Probably, by the time I go to Kansas, you will be in Hollywood, so I will just come on out and fly back to New York from there. Or perhaps we could also have a little weekend in San Francisco.
How awful it sounds—the cold and the discomfort! But apparently it is the same all over. It is very bitter here—I can’t put my nose out the door once the sun goes down.
I don’t understand about [Rudolf] Nureyev. What sort of sex life does he have? Is he in love with Erik Bruhn?156 Myself, I think he (N.) is repulsive. But then we have never agreed on this subject (of what constitutes attractiveness).
I read in the papers about Mr. [Oliver] Messel’s difficulties. So moronic.
Jack skis. Charlie barks. Diotima is sleeping away the winter. We’re all so sorry you couldn’t come—next year! Send a line—all love.
T.
[Collection St. John’s College, Cambridge University]
TO NEWTON ARVIN
[Verbier, Switzerland]
10 February 1963
Dearest Sige—
Rcvd. notice from Little, Brown that they had sent me, almost three weeks ago: ‘Longfellow, His Life and Works, by Newton Arvin.’ So it should be along any minute now, and I can scarcely wait. I told Random House to send you my ‘Selected Writings’—which has turned out to be a very handsome little book. What a shame our books are appearing during the newspaper strike—now we can’t complain to the publisher about a lack of advertising.
This has been the coldest winter in Switzerland since 1875—twenty to forty below zero every night. The skiing resorts (including this one) are absolutely empty—it’s just too cold to ski. But today I felt a certain thaw in the air—I suppose the sun will come out just as I leave. As of now, I plan to go 3 March—returning to 70 Willow Street, Brooklyn. And, of course, I will get in touch with you immediately.
I had a little note from Andrew the other day (on the whole I never hear from anyone: that’s what happens when you evaporate for years on end) and he said he’d recently met a very bright young man (no name given) who told him he was reviewing your book for The Reporter, and who said it was “a really brilliant book, something of the first-order.” Andrew is so fond of you. But he is just one of those strange types.
I notice (in this letter, and in my more formal writing as well) that I use the word ‘just’ constantly. I think it must be the Kansas influence. I have got my ear so adjusted to those prairie cadences!
Hope you got the picture of me and my dog-friend Charlie. He really is so funny. And nice.
So are you. Nice, I mean. I love you, Sige.
mille tendresse [sic]—
T.
[Collection Smith College Library]
TO BENNETT CERF
[Verbier, Switzerland]
14 February 1963
Dear Bennett—
Welcome back; I hope you and Phyllis had a wonderful holiday at Shady Lane.
I finished Part Three—and wept uncontrollably for two days afterwards: I’d been under such an appalling nervous strain. Anyway, Shawn has cabled me a lengthy string of superlatives and I long for your opinion. But I will not let you read it until you have re-read the first two parts. So do your homework. Because I will be back March 3rd. To stay. (Except for going to Kansas).
I’ve missed you and Phyllis so much. And love you both dearly—
So looking forward
T.
[Collection Columbia University Library]
TO ALVIN AND MARIE DEWEY
[Verbier, Switzerland]
15 Feb 1963
Dearhearts—
Hope you had a good time at the Broadmoor—though sorry it had to be so brief.
Well, I’ve heard from Dale and I’ve heard from Cliff; and, having talked it over, they’ve decided to do nothing until my Kansas visit.
Speaking of which—I wrote Cap Burtis the other day asking him to get a Chevrolet Corvette ’63 for me and have it ready when I arrive in G.C. one reason being that I want a car with Kansas plates to go with my Kansas licence—otherwise I would have to have New York plates and take a N.Y. test (and you know I’d never pass it). Besides, I’d like to drive back across the country and pay a few visits. Have you seen these ’63 Corvettes? I think they’re sensational: more beautiful than any European sportscar—even a Ferrari. I asked Cap to write me whether he could have the car there by March 20th—but since then I’ve realized there isn’t that much time before I leave here—would you please ask him to cable me? Because if he can’t get the car—then I will have a friend buy one for me in California and drive it to G.C. (am going to California before G.C.). Oh dear, I’m always asking favors of you—but please tell Cap to cable me yes or no.
I think our friend Nelle will meet me in G.C. However, she is so involved in the publicity for her film (she owns a percentage, that’s why; even so, I think it very undignified for any serious artist to allow themselves to be exploited in this fashion).
We leave here 3 March. Swissair has given Charlie Special Permission to ride with the Humans. Sister, too. Will write before departure.
Much, much love
T.
P.S. I just sent Part Three of the book to Mr. Shawn last week. He cabled me: “A masterpiece stop A work of art people will be reading two hundred years from today.” So see—you’re not only going to be famous, but immortal! And that’s no joke.
[Collection New York Public Library]
TO NEWTON ARVIN
[Verbier, Switzerland]
as from:
70 Willow St.
Brooklyn 1, N.Y.
18 Feb. 1963.
Dearest Sige—
Your book came, and I read it all yesterday, and all of today, and finished it, and my great congratulations, Sige—it is very brilliant, and very beautiful, a fascinating book and a work of art, a real one.157 I’m thrilled about it, and know it will make a tremendous impression everywhere. I like the looks of the book, too: the jacket is wonderfully striking, and the typography very handsome—I’m sure Van Wyck Brooks158 must be proud of the dedication. And I am very proud of you, my friend.
All love
T.
[Collection Smith College Library]
TO MARIE DEWEY
[Verbier, Switzerland]
as from:
70 Willow Street
Brooklyn 1, N.Y.
23 Feb. 1963
Dearest, Dearest Marie—
I have been so worried about Alvin, and praying for him: I admire him so, I’m devoted to him—I do hope with all my heart that by now he is more comfortable and on the way to total recovery.159 I marvel at your wonderful good spirits, and am so grateful (and very touched) that you have taken the time to keep me informed. I’ve longed to telephone you—but that is very difficult to do from this little town. However, I will call you the instant I arrive in New York (or will if the phone is connected—I rather expect to find the place in a shambles).
Anyway, don’t be surprised if you receive this letter one day and hear from me the next.
My best love to Alvin and the boys. Many hugs, precious Marie
T
[Collection New York Public Library]
TO NEWTON ARVIN
[Verbier, Switzerland]
as from:
70 Willow Street
Brooklyn 1, N.Y.
27 Feb. 1963
Dearest Sige—
How very, very sorry I am to hear you’ve been so ill, and so long in the hospital. It was kind of your sister to write me, and I know it must be a comfort having her there.
I am coming home next week, and will call your sister—and hope you will be out of the hospital by then. I was supposed to go on out to Kansas; but will postpone that to come and see you; or, if you’re not feeling up to a visitor just yet, will come later (after Kansas).160
God bless you. My love always
T.
[Collection Smith College Library]
TO CECIL BEATON
as from:
70 Willow Street
Brooklyn 1, N.Y.
28 Feb 1963
Dear heart—
We leave tomorrow—though God knows how: Jack’s passport is out of date (one year!) and the papers for the animals, despite endless calls to the vet, have still not arrived—and oh endless chaos of all kinds! Still, I am hoping we will reach the above address in good shape (worry time to indicate nervousness).
Look!—I’m spilling ink everywhere.161
I saw that ‘Turandot’ opens tonight.162 Bon fortune—though I’m sure there will be nothing but ovations for you and your work. What a shame you should miss it.
Are you miserable in H’wood? Or just too busy to notice. Well, I am coming to see you. I’ve done a wild extravagant thing: bought myself a very jazzy sport’s [sic] car—a Corvette Stingray (makes a Jaguar or even a Ferrari, look like a child’s toy). I can’t afford it, to say the least. But after all these years of keeping my nose to the grindstone something in me suddenly exploded—and I bought this car. It’s being delivered to me in Kansas. So I could drive it out
