2

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON
231 HGS
YALE UNIVERSITY
NEW HAVEN · CONN

a total of $68.28. Alas, she could never have lived on that. Of her
Selected, a total of 153 have been sold during the quarter. Of Bid Me
to Live only 32 which returned nothing because of what they call an
unearned advance. I don't remember what this can be. Helen in Egypt
had 35 copies returned, and sold nothing, but they also say it is out
of print in hard covers now. The paperback is still in print. No, I
see now. the 35 copies returned were of the paperback; they sold the
last 7 copies of hardcover.

A letter came from Schnack with a new address Beustweg 3, 8032 Zurich.
And a newspaper clipping about "Der Zeichner Victor Hugo." She says, "It
seems to be quite impossible to meet Mrs. Bryher -- I suppose she is sooner
going to the moon than to Zurich, Beustweg, alas!"

I have written to Natchez to the guide we had there before, but the
reply has come from some one else to whom we were referred. "I will be
glad," this Mrs McL aurin writes," to reserve my time for your tour on April
15th & 16th and morning of 17th, due to the fact of a mold winter our flowers
are blooming ahead of time how-ever we feature the old homes and gardens Mobile
Ala. has the lonely gardens." I like the idea of "lonely gardens." As the
plans now stand, we would leave from New York at 4:55 p.m. on the 14th of
April by tourist jet non-stop to New Orleans where we arrive at 6:44 and then
leave at 7:50 for Natchez where we arrive at 9:00. Any other flights require
spending the night of the 13th in New York. We stay at Natchez until the
afternoon plane back to New Orleans on Saturday, and leave New Orleans for
New York at noon on the 19th. I see this means we will be in New Orleans on
Easter Sunday. I had thought of taking the day to go to the Evangeline country,
but now wonder if we could get anyone to take us. I'll check on that. Anyhow,
Easter in New Orleans should be colorful.

(At that point I had to leave for a visit to the doctor's for my annual
physical. He poked and pounded, gave an electro-cardiogram, had me x-rayed
and pricked for buckets of blood, and now I shall wait for reports. Then, being
out in my car I went to the travel agent's and gave directions as what we wanted
for the Natchez trip. He will now be at work getting us reservations etc. Easter
may complicate, but really one couldn't wait for the following week. And, quite
privately, I shall be as glad to be free from family picnics here as you will to
be relieved of the necessity of saying no to invitations to hunt eggs en Schaffner
on Long Island. I will report on details when he has confirmed. Then I ate a
hurried lunch, had a few words with Allen Tate, and hurried back to the Graduate
School where I met Prof Takano on the stairway to my office. I had appointments
at 2:30 but managed to take her to the Rare Book Room Library and the old
Sterling Library before then; she has gone back to the RBR to work on Henry
James, and I will meet her at my office at 5:30 or so when I have finished a
faculty meeting. She leaves tomorrow afternoon, and oh what a hunk will
have been chewed out of that day! Tonight we have a Japanese couple in for
dinner; tomorrow noon I will have two Japanese girls to lunch with her.)

This will be sheer hell ever to get up to date. For at best I have
only five minutes more before I must leave. I start with your letters. Glad
to know about Leighton. On arrival the books, with one exception did not look
too interesting. But I must be allowed my errors so long as they are not too
expensive. #Am most pleased to hear about Catherine's job. I think she must

3

be getting back on her feet again.

Yours of the 27th. I agree entirely about keeping to a good
dentist when you find one. And most of them are bad. You have often
told me about your little Hungarian, who sounds excellent. # As to
Miss Salter's request, I should think your course of action was a sure
one. Naturally Greene wants some one like Salters to write her biogra-
phy, would want anyone (even David) in order to get first on the market.
But your relationship to Edith was so close, and remains so close to
Osbert and especially Sachie, that it seems to me the decision should
be up to them as to whether they regard Salters as the official biographer.
My hunch is they won't, and so you have a good reason not so send copies
of your letters. Your respect is for them not for Salters. My own
feeling is that it is much too soon for a biography going into details.
Osbert at least should have died, first, I think, though that sounds
brutal. Anyhow, know Edith as Salters did at the end does not mean she
knew her earlier. Or is a writer of the necessary skill.

Poor Ines. I think it's indicated that through Peney or someone
you get a really skilled lawyer to take over her case. She will need help.

(Hurry up, please, it's time!)

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

5 March 1965

Dearest Fido,

Luckily the gods have given me an extra hour. Yesterday afternoon, as I wrote, I took Professor Takano to the Beinecke Library and she stayed to look at some correspondence of Henry James. So this morning, after I had driven her on a tour of New Haven and Yale she has returned there until noon when I take her and two Japanese students to lunch. Let me sit beside you.

To go back to the matter of Miss Salter's biography of Edith. I think the decision should be up to Osbert and Sachie, or at least Sachie. If they want hers to be the official biography then I think you ought to cooperate in any way possible. If they do not, then it seems to me better not to give her information which might seem as though it were complete and your considered point of view, even though she decided in the end to use only a part of what you said and make it appear like the whole. Obviously, too, if hers is not to be the official biography, you have every right to say, as Eliot did about my request for a memoir on Hodgson, that you will be including Edith in your own memoirs which you are about to start writing.

To go back to the case of Ines, I hope you will put a good Swiss lawyer (via Beney) to help her. The Swiss may not give such help for love of Ines, but they will if she is given a Beneydiction.

I note that you will arrive in New York on April 3rd, and after finishing this will write to the Stanhope and engage your room from Saturday the 3rd through the night of the 8th, on the assumption that you will come up on the 9th (Naturally if something important comes up for you to do on the night of Friday the 9th you can always stay a day longer. But I thought that on Saturday or Sunday we might make the visit to Horace, which would mean Patrick could enjoy your visit too. Monday and Tuesday will be busy for me, and we leave for Natchez on Wednesday. Monday or Tuesday if you like you could see the Hotsons, or we have them in for supper or tea. That we should invite them to us might be nice. Mary startled Susan two days ago by calling her on the phone for a long long chat. We had been crossed off the Christmas greeting list, but they may be getting a little lonely because of the absence of the Cleanth Brooks'. Mary reported she had given up her children's choir because no one could sing. How now will North Haven welcome the resurrection?

Gough's car. Alas, this is beginning to be the case everywhere. I hear it from American cultural officers. Only the government is allowed to have cars --these usually Land Rovers in large cities--and the poor Americans cannot own their own cars because of the restrictions on the part of the government of the land where they are stationed.

Pokross. At the moment the important thing is to get things moving with Annie Reich, and one or more conference with her would be important. One can run up anytime to see him, or wait until fall. If now it would really

report of the nightmarish visitor was a return of his old verve. What an extraordinary experience!

Thank you for sending Kenneth's letter. I long for him to be able to relax again. I wonder what has happened to the manuscript of the second novel.

2

be to see the Richards.

TWA! Alas, we have to go that way to Athens as it is the only
flight on which we do not have to change planes. But, as the travel agent
said to me, "There are people who would prefer not to go rather than take
TWA!" Yet they and other firms keep printing full page ads featuring the
movies.

Now moving on to yours of the 25th and it series of questions. I
repeat sometimes. It makes no difference whether you come on the 9th or
10th, but all things being equal for you I should think the 9th would be
preferable because (a) you are likely to be sick of New York, (b) it will
give more latitude in going to Palisades, (c) we will be eager to see you.

2: Present plans are we leave New Orleans on Monday the 19th at 12:55 p.m. arriving in Newark at 4:16 p.m. You could go directly in to the Stanhope or come to New Haven for the night and then go down. Your final departure probably is easier if you return to New Haven and bus from here, as you usually do. This gives us a last visit and you a little more time to work on the Henty notebooks which have already arrived. A huge package of them. Two or three days may be enough in New York. I know Helen would dearly love to have a very small party, quite sedate, perhaps at the Cosmopolitan Club, for the publication of your book. But she does not want to force you to do anything you don't want to (you have her scared of you!), so the easiest would be for you to tell me if you were willing, and I could pass it on that I thought you probably wouldn't mind. I don't know how you feel. Actually I suppose it would please Jovanovitch, especially since he has doubled the advertising appropriation, to give it a little boost this way. The Cosmopolitan Club has all the gaiety and sense of abandon that the Sesame offers. I think it is all right to arrange rooms at the Stanhope for the second stay after you are there for the first.

4: I should think you would prefer to return to Kenwin and then pop over to London with a clean shirt and minus souvenirs.

5: About your new bag, Susan says it is supposed to be specially treated and papally consecrated to withstand ravages of travel. But if you do not have to carry any small bag otherwise, then why not as you say tote only one. You have a small one here already if you want to transfer from new bag to old for the Natchez trip. We only worry lest you be so scrupulous that you never use the bag at all. For typewriter, I do not believe that you cannot bring back from here any keys you want to have inserted in a typewriter bought abroad. An American one, that is. You say what you want for what model of machine and what typeface and I can get on this side from my dealer. I can also of course get you 20% discount on any machine bought here.

6: We are counting on your coming again the Fall. I think twice a year is called for. Who knows when I may have my heart attack!

We both agree as of this side that your eye for Times clippings has
lost none of its keenness.

Don't worry about the report on girls' schools. She will not really
have expected you to make it, I'm sure. # Lilian, of course, I did remember. It
was only now that I seemed to see her en route to Avalon.

Both of George's last two letters have been much improved, and his

Carl von Neumann

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

6 March 1965

Dearest Fido,

This will be a desk-clearing day, although much else needs to be done. But I must have things in some sort of shape before we leave for Greece. Our address there, by the way, as from March 18 to April 5 (noon) will be Hotel Grand Bretagne, Constitution Square, Athens. I will always return there from our brief ausflugen.

It is too early for the Saturday mail, which may have some thing from you in it, but on my desk is the yellowback which arrived two days ago. Let me be able t put it aside for filing. I note Jocelyn's new allowance, which seems to make sense and he will certainly need. I don't see very much likelihood that the will rouse himself to much writing, and the cost of living has and will continue to have gone up. (Don't forget that you have never made out your British list of people to take care of in case of need. Kenneth I am sure will cope carefully with them all, but if anything happened to him, 'slay might not know of the little dames on the Scillies or the Lilians.

The yellowback had as of the end of January, so Pup's accpunt of being snowbound was among the others. # Also Humphrey's from St. Mary's, who always writes well. I must say, sorry as I am for all Jean Starr's woes, she does revel in them or at least take consolation from them. One would have thought that the publication of her memoirs and the pleasant review in the Times would have given her some pleasure. Was she always that way? If so, despite my general dislike for Louis U., I must confess a little sympathy for him. If ever anyone had needed, or I think even now needed, therapy, Jean Starr does.

Your letter of the 3rd also came yesterday afternoon, but I was so involved with professor Takano that I could not write a second one to you. Sorry about the snow. It changed from spring to snow here too yesterday, and was miserable. It still is, but no snow for which I thank God. Do keep at the typewriter keys, or perhaps better to ask Coigny. She can cope with these mechanical details better. At least she was very good about the electric typewriter which I had hoped to by for you until I realised how you stuck to old-fashioned ways and extreme conservatism. (Won't you change your mind?) Your letter to Miss Salter was properly cautious. My own hunch is that it would be better not to let her see your letters, unless Sachie approves.

One can only be pleased that Kenneth likes his new kennel so much. As I have often said, every Scotsman yearns secretly for his castle where he can be laird. This will be it. And he is really smart to put his paintings on the market. I am told it is beginning to slip a little for people like Tanguy and Pollock, except for their very best.

Putting a book or two back on the shelves at Goodrich Street last night I discovered to my surprise that I had no English edition of *Ruan*. Checked in the reserve in the basement and this morning at HGS. None! It is hard to believe I never did have one, but in any event could you order one sent to me?

Late afternoon

My energy begins to run down, but at least I have made massive inroads on the piles on my desk. Alas, I still have my income tax work to do, to give to the accountant before we leave. Impossible to get at during the school week. But I shall begin after I write a final note to you and put the letter in the mox so it will go out this evening instead of tomorrow.

And yet when days go like this there is almost no point since there is so little of interest, to report. There was no letter today from you. Instead came the proof sheets of my third book to be published in Japan. I could have wished it to come after my return from the vacation. But so be it. This third little book is of essays on the 19th century American writers. Perhaps I can get to it tomorrow.

I didn't really report on Robert Graves' visit on Monday, and by now it is not altogether fresh in my mind. He is a curious person, like a teddy bear but not altogether to be trusted I think. I don't quite know why. He is certainly immensely knowledgeable, and loves to carry small objects around with him and on him. For the pre-Columbian Mexican dog of stone, kept on our desk, he pulled out from under his shirt a piece of nugget gold for the dog to lick. In his pocket he pulled out some round balls. What are they? he asked. I gulped. They look like alleys (in a marble game) I said bravely. They were. He is certainly a man of letters, in terms of the breadth of his writing; but he is a shrewd business man as well, having sold a second batch of manuscripts to the University of Buffalo for $50,000. This will put my grandchildren through college he said. I doubt there will be anything left for them. Now he is peddling his correspondence. Well, really why not. He and I seem to get on well together, and I was a little startled to have him kiss me good bye at the station when I left him at the entrance. But I suppose that is a Majorcan custom.

We go out for dinner tonight. I hope I don't fall asleep.

at Gaylord with Horace, but enjoy the lovely opportunity to spend her evenings with all of us in New Haven, and although this would be a fine chance for you to go deeply into things with her, you may feel that under the circumstances you will have to be sure you have done your home work on Henty. No, I think the thing is we drive down on Saturday or Sunday the 10th or 11th, when Patrick can also be there, and this will

be enough. The arrangement with the Schaffners sounds excellent. You will have just the right overlap, if you come up on the 9th.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON
231 HGS
YALE UNIVERSITY
NEW HAVEN·CONN

8 March 1965

Dearest Fido,

How marvelous weekends are! I spent yesterday at the office from midmorning until ten at night, but managed to finish putting my accounts in sufficient order to hand over to the accountant for the income tax statements. Rather more complicated than usual because of Lizzie's expenses which have to be kept separately for possible deductions from my tax. But the marvelous quality of a Sunday at the office is not that it permits me to wallow in taxes but that one can get something done. I began this paragraph this morning; it is now 5 p.m. And although it would be wrong to say that nothing had been accomplished, it is still true that I got nothing done of what I wanted to do.

Still, I talked with the young librarian who is coming to check the Henty collection for us against the University of Indiana cards. (A half hour out at this period. I think Greece will be a blessing.) He likes Victorian books, and if it works out I may have eventually go through everything. He'd like to keep his eye open also as he goes through book catalogues for the Library. The important thing is for me to know if I know what we have.

Your copy of Jean's memoirs arrived. Would you like me to ship it to you at the Stanhope, so that you can take it to be autographed. Or don't you think it matters. Naturally it matters only if it would please her.

I ordered a copy of *Ezra Pound in Kensington* which has also arrived, but doesn't look very good at first glance. I put it aside for you to glance at out of curiosity when you come. You will be busy. The two Henty scrapbooks are immense!

Yours of the 4th and 5th were together in the morning's mail. Much interested in the clippings. Probably a good thing for Monty to remarry, especially rather than to live in insister-in-law. As for the "with children", it is all so different from the point of view we perhaps passively adopted in my time that I can't react properly. I hear the words, I know how they feel, I wonder why there is not sense of privilege felt, or responsibility.

I am so sorry about the bitter cold, and so glad about the Frenchmen-in-America paperback. One does have luck very very occasionally. As with the gift of thermal underwear. One wouldn't want it except for mountain climbing in Europe or England, because it would be unpatriotic. Quite extraordinary about Coutts, sending it after death. No one really cares about detail now, and the ideal is to turn one's self into a computor.

About Horace and Gaylord. The real hitch about getting him up while you are here is (a) we would be away for nearly a week of his stay, or (b) you would be part of the time in New York the following week and so no advantage could be made of your being in New Haven (c) you would have to make several visits to him instead of one if he were adjacent and lohely, (d) I certainly will have to go out every two or three days during the period when I would prefer to see you (e) if you were here then Marya would particularly want to be nearby so that she could see you not only

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

9 March 1965

Dearest Fido,

Don't say I'm not trying to get things in shape for your arrival. I include one affidavit in the form of the confirmation by the Stanhope. I trust all will be in order when you arrive. I began this morning by driving by the savings bank where I could put Hilda's last check for royalties on deposit before the 10th of the month so it could begin earning interest as from the 1st of March. The gesture means little financially, but satisfies my Puritan conscience. Otherwise the day has been given to preparation for my seminar, and recovery afterwards. I am giving up and returning to the office this evening as the only way to get things done. Otherwise there are always interruptions, and my departure draws near.

Yours of the 6th was in the morning mail. What a dreadful winter you have been having. It must be unbearable. We are promised a few drops of snow tomorrow, but I should think this would amount to little. Did I tell you I had a nice letter from Chris? I had sent him a Christmas card. # One sees how it works with your schedule for letters from Greece. From 17th to April 5th our address will be the Grand Bretagne. # Much interested in seeing Jocelyn's letter. It is difficult to believe he will be drawing his old age pension so soon. I think he is settling in comfortably, which is just as well. He has his reputation, people know him, and they will continue to put things on his tray evry so often. # As for Salter, it does sound from her letter as though Sachie and Osbert were overjoyed at the idea of the biography. But perhaps it # simplifies matters if the letters are on this side. # A yellowback came yesterday which I read last night. Nice letters from patrick and Horace. And from Chester Page. I am sorry he loses his full working time, but would think the lessons on piano would mean more than an annual trip abroad. He is right, though, nothing is more discouraging than to expect to earn one's living as a musician. I suspect nevertheless that he would find music more confining and harder work than he imagines. One hates to be romantic, but I suspect if he were really dedicated to music nothing could keep him from practising. # Delighted that Annie Reich seems so well and plans for a trip. She is astonishing in her vigor, considering her shock.

Last night I reported dutifully back at the university for a poetry reading by Robert Creely, one of the Levertov-Duncan-Olson group. I think we helped him with a little money years ago from the Bryher Foundation. I read well, and spoke intelligently in answer to questions. I was host at a small luncheon party for him this noon before my seminar. But you can see why I shall have to come back tonight and tomorrow night to the office.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

11 March 1965

Dearest Fido,

You are certainly a devil! There was no letter from

you in the morning mail, so I waited until after lunch to open the
manila envelope which came instead. Now I see what has kept you
warm during the blizzards and God's chill. Naturally I am eager to
read it, and the weekend ought to give me the chance. I do thank
you. We can go over it when you are here.

Yours of the 8th did come yesterday, so I am not without
words or tokens. I am glad that the Escale is restored to Paradise
again. It was a pity to have nowhere like it to go, and I must say
their food is excellent. One can be sure of not being served cat.

Glad that your arrival at Idlewild will be in plenty of time.
I should think it simpler to take the airport bus in to the terminal
and taxi from there to the Stanhope. (You will already have your reserva-
tion.) Normally from La Guadalupe, people take a taxi in, but from Idlewild
it is from 4 to 6 dollars without tip. The buses run regularly are not
at at all uncomfortable. I am telling no one in New York when you are
arriving, so the time can be your own over the weekend. # The letter
from Chris was a nice one. I do wish you could pop up to Copenhagen
say in May, and with Elsie. I should not actually stay with Chris's
parents but go there for a meal and the evening to see his pictures.

I am not really good for much these days, working at the
office each night as I can and getting up the next morning a little
more tired. But I was able two nights ago to write the first com-
plete draft of a description of the American Studies Program here to
be published by the Wemyss Foundation of Wilmington, Delaware. And
last night I wrote the first draft of the brief introduction to
*American Literary Fathers* which is the third of the Japanese publications.
I think I told you that the page proof for it unexpectedly arrived last
Saturday. Tonight unfortunately I have the chair the meeting of the
Connecticut Academy of Arts and Science's because of Ingholt's *absence*.
But if I am lucky enough to have finished proofreading by then, on the
book, I can spend Friday night reading the manuscript of a bibliography
for the Wesleyan Press. There are two other book length ms to be read
before I go, if I can, but I must in any event read the two fat volumes of
Cooper's letters I promised to review for the American Historical Review.
The article on Pound and Noh plays for the French magazine will simply have
to be given up. But perhaps it's as well I'm not staying here, because I
couldn't keep working this way, and would probably try to.

Went this morning with the income tax data to the accountant.
The government still has not reported on their investigation of my last
year's tax, although three months has passed since we turned over all mater-
ial. Also to the lawyer's to sign a codicil to my will, about the Gardner

property. I can explain when you come. And to the bank to put the
various new stock certificates, bought with the funds from my mother's
estate, in the safe deposit box. (I presume you will bring a letter
from Beney when you come, but no matter if it seems unwise because of
transit through the U.K. It well might. And certainly doesn't matter.

Oh yes, the Japanese book came yesterday. For which many thanks.
I suspect now that I may not be able to read it until after Greece.

Must close now, as I have a meeting with several of the instructors
in American Studies.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS
YALE UNIVERSITY
NEW HAVEN, CONN

12 March 1965

Dearest Fido,

A completely frustrating day in which, because of interruptions, I have managed to finish nothing. So you will excuse, please, madam, a rather hectic note before I go home. Lizzie is to come to dinner since I did not have the time to go with Susan to her, but I have begged to be excused after desert to return to the office for a moment of quiet concentration.

I did my best last night to conduct myself not only as an Academician but an officier, and hope I managed not to disgrace Ingholt for whom I was surrogate. The talk was on the history of the Magna Carta and its influence, rather too detailed for my taste but since I sat in the front row after my introductions I could hardly take advantage of the occasion to sleep.

Today has been filled with a number of interviews and innumerable long distance phone calls. Horace phoned wanting me to arrange hospitalization in April for him at Gaylord. Or rather, in fairness to him, he had written or phoned them only to discover that his favorite Dr Anderson (who did the superb diagnoses for Marya and himself) was no longer there. What should he do, since he didn't want to go if Andy was not available. Consequently I have started telephoning, and learned from a doctor at the New Haven hospital that Dr Anderson is now out of medicine and in Washington working for the government. "He has his own troubles, as you know," my informant said. But I am ignorant of all that. I shall phone Washington tomorrow.

(Now 10 at night, I having come back to the office after dinner. As usual Lizzie phoned at the last minute to say she had a case of fly. She actually gets panicky and cuts these dates. Too bad but it can't be helped, and one must go on asking her or she twists it into being left out. I have finished the article for the Wemyss Foundation on American Studies, paid a few bills, redone the introduction to *American Literary Fathers*, and having had to give up this before I could mail it pre-dinnertime, I'll drive with it now to the postoffice.

Yours of the 9th and 10th are here. Very sorry indeed about missing the Ralegh's. Maggs have always been conservative buyers, but perhaps this is best unless one is going in for a prestige library as most collectors do. And thinking low, they sold low to you. Probably there is some overvaluation at the auctions now, but mostly in very very modern writers. The big books have always stayed big because they become fewer and fewer in terms of availability. # Don't worry about Schnack, unless you become desperately lonely in Zurich. She could easily become too much!

You ask about the literature around Natchez. Really isn't any of importance, although naturally a few magnolia romances from time to time. No famous works to match the town's reputation. Mississippi is of course

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

Faulkner, Euddora Welty, etc., but this if the state at large. Of New Orleans the crop is mostly local color, with George Washington Cable best known for his stories about the Creoles. I doubt there is much to be read ahead of time; we might pick up a paperback or two for fun afterwards. The Evangeline country is Longfellow, since Evangeline went there after fleeing from Nova Scotia. But since they call Nova Scotia the Evangeline country also, I don't wonder you were confused. He writes about the bayou. *A Walk on the Wild Side* is also New Orleans, but this is on the rougher side. Mostly people write about jazz. I may take you for ten minutes to one of the places simply so you can put on airs with the boys.

I have now heard from all sources, and everything seems to be in order for the Natchez trip. Economy class down and back by jet air. Hotel rooms in Natchez in what is the only hotel in the town itself. I think better to be there and able to walk out for a few minutes than to be more comfortable in the motels at the edge of town, especially without a car of our own. We have the guide to take us in hers. In New Orleans also rooms at the hotel that looked best. In the French Quarter again, so you can go to early Sunday easter mass at the Cathedral. The usual hotes are in the city proper a number of blocks off. This one is newish and looks very good. The food is said to be good also, but perhaps it is iddicated that we take you to Gallatoire's or some place like that. Not fancy, just fine French.

On your own trip I leave to you about departure, and presume you will write Helen. I will if I can manage the time, simply to tell my plans. I had thought I would have a copy of Avalon by now, since she said early March. We will be expecting you on the afternoon of the 9th unless something special comes up.

You should not have bothered to ask Beney to send the check. I will be fine, and this can be an advance birthday present for you. Don't trouble with Spinks when in London, I am still enjoying my eskimo pieces.

I was sorry about Beney's health. It does not really look good, but I take it his spirits survive. His fingers will be itchy since the American market keeps climbing. One fears a continued inflation, and so better to be in common stocks.

Do be sure with Jacque's shirts, to know collar size, sleeve lengths, and what style collar he wants. There are excellent shirts in New Haven, or one can buy somewhat more expensive ones in New York. His wife will give the details I feel sure.

I really must close and run to the postoffice.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

14 March 1965

Dearest Fido,

I didn't write yesterday because I wanted to finish your novel first. I still haven't, though it races with the fine pace of Avalon, and it was only because I was too tired when we came back last night properly to appreciate it. I feel myself very much cheated. But since I had already started the page proofs for the Japanese book (The proof for the title of the first essay read 'Cooper's American Landscape') I felt I had to go through that once more. I'm glad I did, for I has passed over a misprint or two, and they always irk me. I also finished rewriting the brief article on the American Studies program, and wrote reams and reams of recommendations that came in at the last moment and can't wait until April. I still have a book review to do of the last two volumes of James Fenimore Cooper's Letters, and hope I won't have to take them with me on the plane, since they weigh more than my allowance. The article on Hart Crane I will have to put off until the end of April (another extension) but the longer article on Pound and Nph will probably just have to be renigged. I hate doing this, but am trapped. In any event forgive me for not settling down with your manuscript. I shall read it, but with leisure.

Yesterday I simply worked. So did I Friday night. So have I since this morning. So there is not much to write about in my life for the moment; not even the remnants of the Saint Patrick's Day parade which have been going by my office window at the tag of the day do much to interrupt my concentration. What have these remnants been? A fife and drum corps, headed by an Indian and a cowboy and a Revolutionary soldier. Just now some Viet Nam protestors, though they are obviously not planned for and keep to the sidewalk. A corps dressed to look like comic strip Irishmen, with Paddy pipes. A truck decorated for a float but with nothing inside the green railings. One horse being led. I would have to be an archaeologist or a historical novelist to reconstruct a whole.

So! I have checked, and the Yale Library does not have the copy of Isobel Hutchinson you had duplicates of. I do have it. Some day it will go to Yale, but no harm in giving yours unless you think Hilda Quick would like it.

No letter from you Saturday, but there was a yellowback on Friday. I think nothing of great import in it, although as always I am much interested. # A good but tired letter from Islay. I wonder if his Sybille and friend will really settle at Cetona, or if he and Kenneth really would like it on a more or less permanent basis? I doubt that I would. # Such a good letter from Lady V. I like her more always. And so it goes. Should I send Ady a copy of Jean's memoirs for what it says about George? I haven't read the book but looked up a few people as from the index.

I shall be brighter tomorrow, having read the manuscript. I stay home tonight and treat myself to it!

All love as always,

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

15 March 1965

Dearest Fido, Well, this is the day that was! I'm glad I took the time at the beginning of it at least to write you about *Take Over*. There certainly isn't time enough to have done it now, and in any event I shall be back at the office this evening doing what I had expected to do during the day. Not that I haven't got things done. It's only that the things done were different from what I had hoped or expected. The girl I had tried to get on the phone all day Saturday and Sunday turned out to have been here in New Haven. So she came. I gave her the first volume of her manuscript I had been reading for the Wesleyan Press, and at least saved the postage on that. The other two I must mail to Middletown. Vistors came from several other spots (just as one appeared immediately before that sentence. Oh well, why try to describe it. Let me simply try to get down what ou should know to be up to date.

Saturday morning I called Horace's ex-Gaylord doctor who now works for the government in Washington. He thought Horace should return to Gaylord for his checkup since they had his records there. He agreed to talk to Horace and advise this if Horace called. So I phoned Horace, said I located the doctor in Washington who would be at home if Horace called. We had a long talk in which Horace gave extended explanations of why naturally he wouldn't go to Gaylord now, but find a new place. For once I held my tongue, and said only that I thought Dr Anderson's advice would be helpful. A half hour later Horace phoned me again to say, as though it were the most natural thing in the world, that Anderson advised Gaylord and, again as though the most natural thing, that he of course would go there. So his son-in-law will drive him up on the 11th of April. We can visit him perhaps Monday afternoon, without having to go to Palisades. But this might mean you should see Pat and Marya in New York. I am glad to say that Horace will make his own arrangements to go to Gaylord. A good thing, I think. I said nothing about the bills there, and we can discuss when you get here. Please don't send him an overall check. This doesn't work with him. Better to have the hospital bill sent to me after hospital insurance is deducted. So much for that.

Your letters of the 10th, 11th, and 12th were in the early morning post. They cheered my day. I hope all went well with the typewriter exploration. Don't forget this is to be my gift to you. As to the British edition of *Ruan*, I meant perhaps you could order Curry to send me one. But no, don't bother. I'll ask my Oxford dealer to send. # I know what you mean about your momento mori, of Edith. One really can't bear to use them, and yet it is touching for them to have thought of you. As she did. # The visit from the Goughs sounded interesting. I am sorry he is in this midst of flurry. Sometimes one can get too caught up in it, and I tend to be a little weary of alternatives. For example, perhaps better to sign the full contract and then back out because something irresistible appeared, than to say no I'm only willing to be a stopgap. In the boss's position I should then say, well

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

why not close out now so we can begin breaking in some one new. If the
other man wants Michael's job, they may not feel Michael so necessary
that one year more or less makes that much difference. Better to keep
a reserve fund equall to the three-months dilatory salary. Then it doesn't
matter. #Am so very sorry indeed to learn about the bad luck in finding
the right family for Alan and Valentine. I'm sure something will turn
up, though alas perhaps not ideal.

Oh dear, in this morning's mail, Romaine's manuscript was
returned by Viking. It appears they had seen it and rejected it in 1934
when it apparently was making the rounds. They are not drawn to her
personality. Personally I never feel I have to be drawn to the writer
of a book. I will send a copy of it to you (the letter I mean) before I
go and try to write Romaine from Greece.

Also in the mail was two reports from Denmark on the
Brattahlid restoration. Everything seems to be in order, and tomorrow or
Wednesday I will send you a note for Beney instructing how to make the
money over from my account. But I need to study the report tonight, and
will report in detail in my next letter. The reports themselves I will
save for you to see on this side.

I must hustle now, or this will not get in the post in time
for the collection.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

17 March 1965

Dearest Fido,

Your farewell letter of the 13th arrived yesterday afternoon, but I could not answer it then, Tuesday being seminar day, with some appointments afterwards and finally a great scurrying to get home and change for a 5 o'clock celebration of a festschrift for Professor Pottle (The Boswell man). In my best fashion I assembled on myself portions of several suits, but perhaps this was appropriate to the motley effect of any festschrift!

I will go home after lunch to pack, and then return to the office for whatever is left of the afternoon. The bus goes from the Taft at six.

But I have a little luck, or indeed a lot of it. I think I told you that a chief unfinished job was the review of two new volumes in the edition of James Fenimore Cooper's letters (some 900 pages of them altogether), due March 25th. I had visions of myself paying excess on the airline, and then sitting on top of the Acropolis reading about Deerslayer. But summoning all resources of the modern world to my aid, I telephone Washington and spoke with the managing editor of the American Historical Review (the official publication of the Association of historians) to ask if the 25th was really the 25th. It couldn't matter in the slightest he said in the pleasantest offhand manner you could hope for. We'll put it in the Fall issue. Anytime up to 2 years is time enough. Scholarly journals do act that way, as one knows from the Ghandaran book. Authors become itchy, but reviewers in cases like mine are blessed.

Everything seems to be in order for your visit. We will call you on the morning of the 6th perhaps, since one doesn't know really when one actually arrives at Goodrich Street, and I suspect you will need Monday night for a last fling on the town in some night club or discotheque, and it would be absurd to linger in your Stanhope pad for the sake of saying hello. You will have a short enough time as it is, in which to crowd all your friends in.

I hope all goes well with your dentist in London. Seriously, don't take the time to search out a Spinkery. For you to bring us yourself is all we ask. And of course all possible dirt from Philip who combines M1-5 and M1-6 in himself.

Now I do have one serious errand for you to run for me if you will be so kind, because I think it would be too late to do after your return from the States. Especially if you re-pop to Britain so soon afterwards, and make your little courtesy call on Chris and his Greenlander too.

My two letters about Brattahlid from the National Museum of Denmark were fine ones and completely satisfactory to me. They have outlined in considerable detail their plans for the limited restoration of Eric's farm, the Esmimo dwelling nearby, and Tjodhiðde's Church (which you will

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

recall is the oldest Christian church in the Western hemisphere. The plan now is for the expedition to go out in June, and consists of an architect, and artist, a sod-builder from Iceland, etc etc. I should think most of these were giving their services, and my subsidizing of the venture really goes towards expenses, the building of fences, and the like. As you know, the restoration of Brattahlid has always fired my imagination, and it is a thing I should like to do myself. I think we spoke of it to Benay when I was last there, but although I enclose a letter of authorization to him, really all you have to do is to authorize him to send the amount either from the reserve cash fund or from capital. (This is not a precedent, but you know that. We have talked about it many times.)

The amount involved is $15,000.00 and can be paid either in dollars or in Danish kroner or the equivalent Swiss francs by a draft made out to

Nationalmuseet (or: The Danish National Museum)
12 Frederiksholms Kanal
København K

Perhaps the letter in which the order is enclosed, there is no reason why it should not be a draft from the Bank, without my name on it, should be addressed in care of

Dr. Jørgen Meldgaard
Etnografisk Samling
Nationalmuseet.

Then there could be no confusion as to the reasons for the draft, since I shall next be writing Meldgaard to tell him it is coming.

You once spoke of wishing you could get this sum of money out of England, since you could send it to Denmark, but not to Switzerland. I have no objection to your doing this, but only on the condition that Benay transfer the same amount from my account to yours. The only hitch is that the Danish have asked to announce the gift (in order to explain the work to rival bureaucrats, who would say me-too if the restoration was regarded as an appropriation), and if you had to explain to the Labor Government, they would say Ha! So probably it is better to stick straight to the simpler plan.

I am not trying to reproduce the two letters and the map of explanation, but will save for you to see when you come. It is odd isn't it, how you led me into the North. But perhaps as Browning would say, just a matter of elective affinity; for we usually do turn out to feel the same way about things. They say they think they can stick within the $15,000. And being Danes I think they can. But it may turn out to be a few more thousand in the end when they actually get working on.

3

I enclose the letter about Romaine's manuscript, and will write her from Athens about it. We can re-discuss when we are together. I am interested that both Smith and Schiffrin react almost identically to her character. To me, the form held together; and for me, fascination for a figure is enough. I don't need to love her or sympathize with her, or pity her. Perhaps I like the old dame better than I should have liked the younger one, but that's another matter. It's a pity we can't meet as she wants me to. If only I had the excuse of going over her papers for her, perhaps it would be worthwhile. But such a journey is a little excessive for a cup of tea.

You spoke of bringing suites etc. There are many possibilities. If you want to bring two larger ones to New York, and think you might need a little of both, I give you this possibility (not so complicated as it seems). Bring both to New Haven instead of leaving one with Pup. Make use of your second small one stored with us. Leave one of the three in the checking room at the Newark Airport from whence we leave for New Orleans and to which we return. Pick it up then and take it in to the Stanhope with you. This would take care of the problem of not quite managing with one for New Haven and the South. But I leave entirely to you.

This being the last letter from New Haven (I'll take a chance on one or two from Athens despite your plea. It won't matter if they're lost!) I'll put it aside and write a final note later this afternoon, in case something else pops into my mind.

All love,
Norman

Alabama National

King Constantine
rehearsal of the mil-
sary of Greece's Na-

Royal Sunday
in Mytilene

King Constantine Sunday attended the burial ceremony of the bones of national hierarch Bishop Ignatios of Hungaro-Vlachia, in the church of Aghios Therapon, Mytilene.

The ceremony was also attended by Social Welfare Minister Nicholas Zorbas, Agriculture Undersecretary Nicholas Malliakas, Public Works Undersecretary Anghelios Angheloussis and other officials.

The King, who was warmly cheered by the population of Mytilene, flew back to Athens in the afternoon.

Later, the Undersecretary of Agriculture unveiled the statue of poetess Sappho, which was donated to the city of Mytilene by British poetess Rose Macaulley, who also attended the ceremony.

Social Welfare Minister Zorbas announced the grant of several credits for social welfare projects on the island.

POWER STRIKE TODAY

The personnel of the Public Power Corporation (DEH-PAP) has decided to hold a 24-hour strike starting at 7 a.m. today. The strike has been called over a demand for a ten per cent wage increase.

The government has taken measures to ensure a regular power supply during the strike.

RUSH
OFF

WASHINGTON, D.C.

reported today to
U.S. diplomats an
free automobiles

Informed sources
say issued an order
of such goods in
at the original price

In cases where
rates is permitted
turned over to it
for donation
sources said.

Exact data
effective

But
profits
have l
volvin

d, sub-
expected
NATO
on re-
Malay-

in White
ington
noon.
him
American
a non-
page 7

ace?

and ships
are search-
ined tour-
has failed
nce leaving

a Briton
as Walter
Italy from
ops at Irak-
but failed
pected.

or of cotton
is the only
employee was
noon news-
ing said it
plane was
was being

5

WATER;
OVERY

By DAVID WILSON

National Conference on the
 Reported that his team had
ble cost.

by using organic materials
ent — that is by dissolving
um out of the sea water and
solvent. But it was hard to
sea water into contact
with solvent. It was also
well because the solvent
lightly in the sea and

CHEMICALS TRIED

The preliminary success led
Materials of a wide range of
materials in a new, but small,
ory on the mole in Portland
or, on the south coast of Eng-
 quantities of sea water were
through tubes containing the
materials under test. The
its themselves were often the
products of the work at the
ical Research Laboratory (now
National Chemical Laboratory)
Harwell on a range of high-
ive chemicals which were then
discovered, called chelating

of the new chemicals were
cessful than others, but
advantages. However, this
red because the scientists
rised a significant fact
off on a new tack.
deposits of ma-
ors of their
con-

Two hundred and eleven earth
tremors were recorded by the Ath-
ens Seismographic service last
month, according to an official an-
nouncement. Forty-seven of them had
their epicenter outside Greece. Of
the 194 which had their epicenter
in Greece, 142 were slight to weak,
20 moderate to strong and two very
strong.

***

V. Kousoumis went to a rural
area near Vonitsa Tuesday night and
cut down, with an axe, 70 olive
trees belonging to his married sister
V. Apostolaki. The following morn-
ing, he went to Ano Kondila village
and set fire to the six-room house-
of his widow mother Stathoula. He
then gave himself up to the police.
He is said to have destroyed the
trees and the house because his sis-
ter and mother had evicted him and
his family from the destroyed house.

***

While Vania Skapardoni, 16, of
Kokkinoplou, Larisas, was grazing
her sheep on a mountain slope Tues-
day, she was indecently assaulted by
19-year-old shepherd Evangelos The-
oharis. A fierce fight broke out, and
the shepherd soon gave up and
fled with several bites in his hands,
legs and face. Theoharis was later
arrested.

***

G. Zaharias, 62, livestock breeder,
aged to 15 years and nine
the Criminal

N O R M A N

H O L M E S

P E A R S O N

2 3 1 H G S

Y A L E U N I V E R S I T Y

N E W H A V E N · C O N N

24 April 1965

Dearest Fido,

It seems normal enough to be writing you again. But hardly so pleasant as it was for me to have you here. Breakfast this morning seemed forlorn, without having you at the other end of the table or the telephone.

I have slogged away in a rather haphazard fashion. This being big-watering day I sprinkled behind the ears of each orchid, and that takes time! Then there was Jim Addiss to see at the office, and although the interview was pleasant enough he came with the decision not to accept the cheque. There was no chip on his shoulder however, at least visibly, and several useful (to me) things could be said to him. Then I hurried back to Goodrich Street for an appointment with the contractor about the sidewalk and the drive. (I think I told you that we had received orders from the town that the sidewalk must be repaired. And they are right.) Luckily he says they can tunnel in beneath the slabs of cement, raise them with dirt and stone, and this will be enough. That will be a substantial saving. The driveway must be resurfaced, but we will wait for that until summer when there are no cars in the garage. Then I made myself a peanut butter sandwich, and finished the last of the breakfast coffee, before going to market for some cold meats for Sunday supper. And afterwards back to the office to begin to get at my desk. Mostly I have been paying bills, seeing that Susan's affairs were in order, checking on her nurse, on the movers to come Monday (the one I stopped to see), and so forth.

No letters have come for you since your departure. I suspect now that none will. But in filing those in yellowbacks that had come since I left for Greece, I came again on Ady's. Would you like me to write to the doctor who, she says, is taking care of him? I could simply ask him what the story really is. Then if worse came to worst, you could phone the doctor while you were in England a-Maying.

I do miss you.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

25 April 1965

Dearest Fido,

Well, Sunday and although I went to the hospital this morning I did get in an afternoon at the office. Too much still remains to be done, and there is confusion everywhere. But it marches. The doctor was at the hospital this morning when I visited, and Susan under his eye walked proudly down the hall for several yards. But she was disappointed to learn that she was not to set her broken leg down for at least two months, that is until after his return. I had understood it so, but her eagerness made her think he had meant six weeks.

I ate at the Lawn Club last night--almost the only guest-- and again there this noon. "Are you alone?" they asked, and one waitress said she missed you. So do I.

Susan had had her card with hidden animals from Mary Hotson, and Mary had announced that as soon as Susan was home she and Leslie would come with his guitar and "we'll be gay together." Susan is literally terrified, says her nerves won't permit it. Leslie will think this a slam; but I'll have to head them off. At least I can delay in saying she's home.

I read Marianne's essay on knifes with relish. It is like one of her poems in which she piles up particularities. She has a real manner.

And I have finished Neil Little's manuscript, though I must say I skipped along in his dramatic finale to his life: the essay on cats. I lay might adore it, but like yourself I am no cat fancier. I told you he doesn't know how to write. I was wrong; actually he writes very pleasantly. But he doesn't pick on the right things to develop. I found his activities behind scenes with the ILC interesting, but it would not interest many I fear. It is in fact a pity the book cannot be printed and distributed to his friends and a few libraries. But I don't think any commercial publisher would take it either on this side or in England. It is an en famille book, however you describe the famille. You know: "You should read this by your uncle Neil." or, "You remember, he was Karl's friend."

Now I must off to meet an Oxford-on, and then to the hospital.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS
YALE UNIVERSITY
NEW HAVEN • CONN

30 April 1965

Dearest Fido,

This is the week that was, and I am very glad that its existence is almost over. But Susan is home, yesterday by ambulance, and gradually we will feel our way into the new regime. I have really been exhausted by all the preparations, the changed signals, the necessary gropings. Anyhow Susan is glad to be home, and I am glad to have her there.

The story of the hospital bed is an example of what happens. I may have told you on your last Friday that she needed an air mattress. After much discussion of the proper type, and after I had begged the man to telephone the doctor, I ordered one with motor for $160.00. Then that night I phoned Dr Fuldner myself, and he said of course not, not at all, don't be foolish. So I cancelled the order. Susan had wanted the bed to have its back to the window because of the light. So it was assembled that way. Then it had to be changed because of the way she had to get out of bed, so the men came again. Then she had to have traction, so there was a still a special trip with it (with my having to meet the men at the house), only once it was in to be told that no show wouldn't need traction. Susan got home to say she had to have a bedboard. So down I went to the supply company for one to fit the bed they had rented me. The bend came at the right place for the knee, in that particular bed, but wrong for the back. This morning it had to be changed.

Then last night when I had tucked her in for the night, we arranged for her to ring a bell if she needed me. I was to sleep in my own room, and she in the study. I could hardly sleep for fear I would not hear her. Then at six I woke up to a faint tinkle, went downstairs to find she had been ringing since 4:30 because she was cold and her back ached. Poor girl, she was in tears, and I felt criminal. But now the electric people are supposed to put in an intercom system, and perhaps this will work. If not we'll simply have to have the two nurses, which Susan doesn't really want, not wishing to be caged at every moment.

But the daytime nurse is a fine one, and wonderfully cooperative. She comes at 8:30 and will stay evenings until after dinner. But this means I must get home promptly to take over, and I still do the dishes. As well as make the breakfasts. Sometimes the nurse will perhaps stay longer, as last night when I had invited a Japanese dramatist for dinner, expecting Susan would still be in the hospital.

I have been really tired and busy, as you can imagine. And so you will not have been surprised that I have not written. I shall try to fill you in from now on. I write more tomorrow, and will keep you up to date on the saga.

All love,
Norman

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

1 May 1965

Dearest Fido,

Having hopped about a good bit of the day, like a sparrow,
I come offering the small seeds to you as a Maybasket. After the breakfast
and the long weekend watering of orchids, I came to the office for some
insurance papers on the doctpr's bills, and then went home to be there when
he came on his final visit before his two month holiday. She will be allowed
to sit at a chair at table for noon and evening meals, but otherwise is to
use only her wheelchair. She is not to try even one step down from door to
terrace for two months. She is to walk sparingly in the house, and (as I
think I told you) is not to enter a car. If we should go to the shore it must
be by ambulance. But she can get up as much as she wishes, and this will
help to make the evenings shorter. I shall try to get a carpenter to put a
ramp from the study to the terrace outside so the wheelchair can go out. This
should be nice. And I have had the tv connected in the living room, so that
may occasionally break the monotony. There were no crises last night. Young
Susan reminded us of what we should have remembered, that Susan could dial
our home number on the phone in the study, put down the receiver, and the call
would go through waking me upstairs. She slept two hours, until 1:30 when she
was in discomfort, and I waked to help her. She slept thereafter until morning,
but I am afraid it is more than I really could.

Later in the morning, I returned various things to various places,
to keep the house clear, and then came downtown. got a birthday present for
my brother to give his daughter (which I had forgotten in all the hurley-burley)
and had it sent airmail to Oregon to be on time. And then I wrote a promised
250-word tribute to John Dos Passos to accompany an award to be given him a week
from today at the Choate School. Don't know why they couldn't write their own,
and really it wasn't that easy for his recent novels have been dreadful. But still
one can praise him honestly, I think, and so I tried to do. Then because they had
been worried at the delay, I drove to Wallingford and delivered it to the head-
master by hand. I only wish you could have been along for the drive. For the
magnolias are all in blossom, and the first soft green leaves are appearing on
the trees. And everywhere are daffodils and tulips and the early azaleas. There
was even a pear tree or two all white in a christening blossom.

I don't mean to continue to burden you with a detailed account of
Susan's return and what will soon develop into a routine. But you have really
been in on it all, and I know you do understand why I simply couldn't write much
during this past week. I cut my two seminars; what was the point, since I was
neither prepared nor interested. The main thing is that Susan's continued good
spirits outwardly are amazing. She has determined that she will follow orders,
and she does. She is pleased to be home, and the durse seems to be a jewel. So
all things considered, one is lucky. And I hope that three blows to her will have
been enough. Perhaps that tingmajuk from Julianahaab which came just after the
postponed operation may really have driven the evil spirits away.

2

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

I wish something could drive them away from poor George. Just
after you left I had such a pleasant letter from Ady telling me about his
sickness and the cancer. She wrote she had not told you about the cancer,
only about the heart attack. But I shall write her that Lady B herself told
you. Ady only hopes George doesn't suffer. So do I. Would you like me to
write the doctor and ask if anything is needed. Still, if it were probably
Lady B would say so.

To get back to your own fine necklace of letters since your return,
I will take them bead by bead. What an extraordinary return flight you had.
You must have absorbed a little of our local bad luck. But I am glad you could
at least stretch out for the night. And how kind of Helen to go out to see
you off! She phoned me during the week to ask about Susan and the name of
Horace's doctor (of whom you had spoken. Alas, he is dead!), but did not say
she had seen you.

As for Kenwin I shudder to think how busy you must have been,
especially with the DeBeers there. But how fine, even though inevitable,
that M Jacques should have liked the suit you gave him, and the others their
gifts. So it is quite proper that Swissair should have showered you yourself
with the gifts of their badge d'honneur and labels d'honneur.

I wept to think that we were not Johnny on the spot with Bridget
Patmore's things. But perhaps a small consolation is that I bought from her
her own letters from Hilda. But these, oh dear! I have simply assumed there
is no point in my stepping in now, and only hope that John Maggs will not
haggle as with Raleigh.

It would have been rather fun to have seen Rosemary's lot in
Greece, and I am glad she is having her fun with it. I'm sorry about her
series not having October, but isn't there another she could choose? An
excellent and friendly letter from her. She still adores you. And so should the
DeBeers, and I wallowed in his reported mots. Thank you.

Much has come in that may interest you in one way or another, and I
will get to them as I can. But particularly, I was phoned yesterday from the
Grolier Club in New York saying they were adopting my suggesting of a full
exhibition of the Henty-Ballantyne Fenn-et al type of book (to be British) and
put up next October. Usually they stay up for six weeks or so, so it should be
on while you make your fall visit. Or if there is a really good do with speaches
on a lad y'snight, perhaps you will want to flip over for that. They come up
in three weeks to talk it over with me. So you see what an impact you are making!

Love to Kenneth and Ethel, and deepest love to yourself. Greetings of
course to Phylis when you see her. Susan was happy to have her nice letter.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

3 May 1965

Dearest Fido,

I did not write yesterday. Sunday was my full day as male nurse, cook, greenhousekeeper, etc., Mrs Eurich having her day off. I must say, my schedule was not very systematically organized. I found myself retracing steps, duplicating efforts. But somehow the day was got through, and Susan seemed little the worse for wear. Since almost every faculty of a nurse was called on, she presented a real challenge. The nights are still a matter into which I have not fully accustomed myself, but when I do they will not be so fatiguing as now. Actually, Saturday night she slept six consecutive hours. Last night three and a half hours was the longest span. But it must be absolutely hell not to be able to move at all in bed, even upon one's side.

Bit by bit I hope things will be in order. This morning I went by Eddie Hoepfner's (where we stopped to get him and his brother to move the furniture), and tried to arrange for him to make a table to fit over the wheel-chair so she can write and work otherwise on it. For what we have or can buy, the wheels and the legs of the chair get in the way. Then I called the contractor who promised to stop me to see about building a ramp to the terrace outside the study, as well as to fasten down the supports so she can use the toilet instead of a pan. I also returned some extra half-length robes to the dress shop.

Lunch had to be devoted to a former Bundit and his wife who had written ahead wanting to stop en route from Boston to Philadelphia. Then from 2:30 until 5 (!) went to a preparatory school teacher of French who worked for me at Ryder Street, was retired at 65 from a Detroit day school and now luckily has a post at an academy in the north of the state. He was born in Persia, the son of missionaries, went to Williams College but has never had anything really to fall back on except school teaching. Each year he sends me a Christmas mimeographed letter about the family holiday the previous summer, and the samovar tea his wife gave at the school. Each year it is the same. His wife is probably 30 years younger, British, a girl he married on the continent in some mercy squad after the war. They have two children, 11 and 13, and she doesn't like the country and doesn't like the city, and doesn't like people except after they have moved away, and fears what will happen to him, and wonders that he isn't more ambitious for her sake, and won't learn to drive a car, and so hates living two miles out from the school. I felt well filled in by the end of the two and a half hours. He needed comforting such as another old man like myself could give him, and obviously still needs a colonel. There's nothing really sinister at all about the wife; she worries and nags, that's all. And I soothe as a can.

Your good letter of the 30th was in the morning's mail, for which my thanks. I do hope you will eventually be able to persuade Benet to consult at least through Prutting. It would be nice if he were referred to someone at Yale, but Prutting will know. As to the account, there is obviously no hurry. Nothing will be changed in any event. I was only curious as what seemed to be a difference between his estimate of dollars and the estimate of francs (Swiss) on the statement, and your own impression. I am so lucky anyhow that more or less doesn't matter.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

I think I did not mention that as of April 25th I had the royalty statement for the six months ended 31 December 1964 at Harcourt. The total was 306.02 which will be deposited tomorrow morning in your account. Carthage had sold 570 copies, plus two for export; Artemis had sold 43. A check for $5.00 came for Hilda from Grove as permission's fee. That too will go in.

Did I write that in rereading the *Times* review of *Avalon* I found that I liked it much better than when I hastily read it when you showed it to me? I think he caught the idea of it; the *Tribune* man of course absolutely did not. Helen said on the phone there had been one or two other good ones so far. She had seen the *Tribune* but did not want to show it you at the party. I enclose the column by Roysce Smith, which I thought might amuse you. Of the volume of plays by the students, mentioned first, both Eisenstein and Murray were formally in the graduate seminar I give. Both very intelligent. I enclose also the "New and Recommended" with *Avalon* listed. This is really an Award of Merit, and does sell books most publishers feel. It is a way of counteracting the massive nature of the Best Seller List.

Spring keeps burgeoning, and more and leaves are out every day. I shall be happy when the ramp is built and Susan can sit outside during a part of the afternoon. I have a nice light but warm Jaeger throw, given me 30 years ago, and still like new. This will be just the thing for over her knees. "Susan Pearson" is in full blossom, and I have a fragrant stem on a vase on my office desk. Every day or so I try to pick a few new varieties for her to see. And yesterday she made her way on crutches to the kitchen windows and the dining room window and the kitchen door, so she could look out at a little of the garden beds.

Do give our love to Kenneth and Ethel. Susan did enjoy Ethel's card and then letter. And I always like hearing from Kenneth, even though so bad a correspondent myself. If you see Lady V, greet her for me.

And all love as always for yourself,

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

4 May 1965

Dearest Fido,

Little time for more than a day's-end note. This is the afternoon of my graduate seminar--on Faulkner--and afterwards a meeting of the professors of English to consider the promotion to tenure of the son-in-law of one of the professors who is a good friend of mine. It was all rather distressing, since although he is a good man we already have two Wordsworthians with tenure and that is enough Lake Country for me. So I finally voted against. My friend absented him, naturally. Who will be the first to tell him how individuals voted.

Susan had a good night and slept five consecutive hours, which meant a good night for me too. I popped to the savings bank this morning and deposited your last royalty check, and the permissions fee to Hilda's account. (A letter came to me, addressed to her in my care, asking her to subscribe to The Intelligence News. What kind of industry picked up this possibility for someone?)

Your letters of the 1st and 2nd were here, today and Susan was delighted with her letter yesterday. I shall think, looking backwards now, of you travelling Swissair with thick socks rolling out into the aisles. It is an age ended if the Gazette de Lausanne really has changed. I suggest your keeping on with it for a bit in order, as you say, to get the other side. Then I suspect you can invent it accurately enough anyhow -- their point of view being pretty predicatble. I must say that if I were not so busy taking care of Susan and otherwise I should be terrified at the drift of things.

Good for Martin Delgano, and alas for the poor Aldriches! That sort of thing can happen here. I have never understood how anyone could, especially when a man is ill as Archie is. But just this sort of thing led me to have non-paying guests at Goodrich Street during our Japanese trip, so we could ask them to leave at any time.

Affectionate greetings to Ethel and Kenneth of course. The daffodils here are now in their glory.

And all love to yourself/

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

YALE UNIVERSITY

NEW HAVEN • CONN

5 May 1965

Dearest Fido,

This afternoon's mail has brought a second letter
from Ady, this one telling of George's death. Even though he
had long wanted to die, and no one could have wished otherwise,
the world will be sadder without him. I am sorry never to have
seen Marvels, though perhaps it is better to remember it as I
knew it through his letters: with George clipping the hedges,
or planting bulbs, or making jam. He tended his correspondence
with the same love that he showed towards his garden, and it is
no wonder that both blossomed. Some day a volume of his letters
about Marvels will bring new friends to him. He was never a best
seller in life, and he will be content with the small group of
friends who drop in for tea at Marvels for generations to come.
-- Something like this I have written Ady. "You have been one
of his dearest friends and he loved you," she wrote. What greater
gift could George have given anyone than his love. And he gave
it to you even more deeply and strongly.

The mail also brought a card from Mme Brooks, in answer
to our card. She signed it simply "Romaine." That is a gift too.

Susan was on a new planet yesterday when I got home,
for the carpenter had been there, fixed the braces, and now she can
use the toilet. And she had a comparatively good night, sleeping
four hours before waking to be turned. There was the usual hurley
burley this morning, between breakfast and midweek orchid watering,
the arrival of the men to take care of the grounds, and the doctor
to take care of Susan (her physician), and the telephone. Later
today I had a phone call from Lizzie, miffed because some one other
than herself was to do Sunday's supper (there is so much rivalry be-
tween the two girls as to who is to have the privilege of helping, that
something of the quality of the help gets lost), but I suddenly invented
an urgent need for Friday's supper and Lizzie's nursing her mother while
I went to a play, that I shall hope to have averted a crisis rather more
successfully than by Marines.

No letter from you today, but you will have been aloft. Now
that you are on ground again I hope my love will reach you.

Norman

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

6 May 1965

Dearest Fido,

Your Sesame letter of the 3rd was in today's mail, after a few days silence --- but nothing compared to my own --- and I was delighted to hear from you. Naturally I was delighted too that Maggs had taken the Patmore letters for you. I can't comment in any detail, naturally, until I have seen them. Nor advise what one is to do with them. In any event I suspect that the Aldington and Hilda things had better be kept away from the Library. One sees. But one anticipates seeing. My thought about keeping for the moment is to avoid having trails that seem to lead to what is retained from prying eyes. For the moment.

This is a usual end-of-the-day letter, after a two hour seminar (substituting in an undergraduate course), followed by a meeting of the committee to award Commendations for books in the humanities, written by people from the greater New Haven area during the past year. This for the Festival of the Arts to be held on the Green at the end of the month.

Yesterday was devoted mostly to B. Rajan, an Indian novelist and professor at Delhi who had dined us at his home when we were in Delhi. Because of Susan all I could do really was to give a luncheon for nine, in his honor. And then go to a party for him after a brilliant lecture he gave on "Yeats and the Absurd." I left the party after 15 minutes to get home in time for dinner. But when I got home I found Susan and Mrs Eurich had misunderstood and thought it was this rather than next Wednesday when I would be absent. They having only two pork chops, I came back to Mory's for my own dinner, returning in time to do their dishes and take over my evening nursing job. Susan was pleased because yesterday the carpenters came and built the ramp from the study to the terrace, so she can be taken out in her wheelchair to sit in the sun. At least when it is warm again.

I was delighted they did such a good job on your suit, and applaud your decision to stay by anyone who gives you what you really want. And I thank you in anticipation for the Markham John Davis.

Sorry at the brevity of this. But I live now on schedule.

All love as always,

Norman

A very nice card in Sarasin, thinking for one send him from Greece. Really don't have time to send a photo.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

8 May 1965

Dearest Fido,

One keeps moving these days, or should. This morning after
the dishes and greenhouse (Susan is getting up to sit at the table for her
morning meal also), I went to the Surgical Supply Co. for pads for the
crutches, then to a market, and then to the shore to get a mirror for Susan
to use on the kitchen table by which to do her hair, and then to the usual
market and grocery store to get the weekend supplies and pay the bills for
earlier. And by then it was noon. Since noon I have been paying bills,
writing notes, and working desperately to get in as much as I can this
last time of the week for work here. Sundays I spend as full-time nurse
and housekeeper. Susan did not sleep quite so well today, and her spirits
were a little subdued. But how can it help becoming boring, with every day
like the last, and nothing in it!

Yesterday turned out to be a kind opera bouffe. For with great
determination I had arranged so I could see the student's play performed at
a local college. He did not phone yesterday as he had promised on Thursday,
so I phoned Southern Connecticut College who said yes they would reserve a
seat for the play (though were sold out) but the time had been postponed to
open at 9:15. This was really too late but worked better since earlier in
the afternoon I had a phone call from Dos Passos en route to Choate for his
medal today, having stopped off at the Library to see the Tocqueville mss.
He wanted a cup of coffee, or (as it turned out) dinner. So I asked him for
the meal, and was able to take him to the station at 8:30 and reach the college
by 9. Then there was the greatest confusion as time went on, for no one knew
MacNeil's name, the play for which I had the ticket turned out to be "Thurber
Carnival"; and eventually we discovered that the play was being put on at
New Haven College, and of course had started at 8:30. So it was too late to
do anything but go home, and let Lizzie off earlier than I had thought. Now
I'll try to do it again next Friday.

Dod Passos was good company, better than usual, and we talked about
his new Jefferson book which he is now finishing, his mss about which he had
asked my advice some years ago and which he has given to the University of
Virginia (properly), and southern Virginian mansions which he would like us all
to visit, and Hemingway (who he says didn't really like Fitcgerald despite the
impression of A Moveable Feast), and Bob McA whom I don't think he cared too much
about, and whether or not (and how) he should write his memoirs. And so the time
passed.

It was quite a literary day, for at noon I had a well-known young
Japanese dramatist, Yamazaka, for lunch along with the translator of his play
into English. A man named Butler, very pleasant, who teaches Japanese. His wife
is Japanese and a diploma-ed flower arrangement teacher. So Susan might like. I
had been asked to read the translation and discuss the play. I had only a few
comments, like my object to the repeated phrase Shadow Spectre, referring to a
character. And the title, which I suggested changing from Zeami (the name of a
famous Noh dramatist) which would mean nothing here by nuance, and calling it
perhaps "Shadow of Light." They seemed to like it, but no doubt in the end
the history of Vespa di Roma will be repeated.

About the Aldington papers from Bridget Patmore, I mentioned them
to Gallup who said that much earlier she had sold a number of letters also
to Aldington to a dealer named Schwarz who in turn sold them to Texas. Aldington
tried unsuccessfully to get them back, saying they were not Bridget's. But
did not succeed. I fancy this remaining lot she uncovered later and did not
want to risk disposing of while R.A. was still alive. I shall be much interested
to see what there is. The letter you enclosed is of course a historical document.
I am so glad it is not at Texas or Syracuse. But I shall put it safely away.

Your last letter is of the 5th, but whether it came yesterday or
today I can't say. Everything in my mind is a little at sixes and sevens. But
not enough so not to applaud putting Ethel up for the Sesame. I daresay the
Brigadier would be just as happy to play Shaker when they are in town, and meet
for meals occasionally. Bedford must have been most interesting, especially
with Agnes as a guide. You had your Beowulfian there, but I wish you could be
here next Tuesday to hear Miss Borroff (who wrote your book) head her own
translation of Gawain on which she is working. She is a talented poet, and
the result may be good. The challenge is certainly a difficult one in any
event.

A nice letter and postcard from Sarasin, thanking for my card from
Greece.

Have had the bill for the Avalons to Catha, Dr Racher and Wendy. And
have paid it. But none so far for the ones on your first long list, except for
mine. Perhaps they are being charged against royalties.

I enclose a note which may amuse you.

10 May 1965

Dearest Fido,

I do not dare risk this to the Glockenhof, though it is a
temptation certainly to try to reach you before you embark on the voyage
with Elsie. And so perhaps it is a little silly to write you at Kenwin
so far in advance of when you expect to arrive there. Still, if I do not...
And I did not yesterday, Sunday being my 36-hour stint at nurse and house-
keeper. I did not stir outside the house, except for taking Susan out on
the terrace during the sunny part of the afternoon. She did enjoy that,
and while we were outside a friend (Mrs Knight, who lives near Bethlehem
stopped for a visit and that helped break up the afternoon.) Susan's spirits
were better yesterday than on Saturday, but I must say I can't blame her for
beginning to find the days long. I certainly should. The nights are long
for her too, but all too short for me between the times of getting up to
help. I'm so frightened that I will show my fatigue, or reflect it more
than necessary. So do make a point of not saying in your letters that it
must be tough on me, and keep to how tough it must be for her. She very
much looks forward to reading letters and I don't want her to read a reflection
of me in what you write. I'll just pretend yours of the 5th and 6th didn't
come. You can write me a separate note sometime if you want. As for a night
nurse, it isn't the money that matters. And Susan, I think, likes having the
house to herself for a half the day. There just wouldn't be anything for a night
nurse to do but that up-on-her-side once or twice in the night. And that will
go on until at least into July.

The Queenwood reunion sounded fun, even if it dwindles. And I am
glad that Lady V gets around. Foy Q-C is, I know, thought a little stiff by
many, perhaps from having been her father's infant hostess for so many years.
But I rather liked her, and especially the way she made it possible for Lady V
to keep.

I didn't write you before that I had spoken to the librarian about
Needham's trip to the Dalai Lama. Although I think I did tell you that the
former librarian thought he could raise about $5,000 for Needham to spend for
books for the Library if the need arose. Tanis, the new Librarian, spoke to
Needham, and Needham came to see me Friday morning (late). You will hear from
him, but I wish you could have seen him. He was like a child for whom a dream
had come true. And he had indeed been dreaming, for he came directly from his
interview and yet when I suggested that he might like to stop a day in Tokyo
or Bangkok he said no he had always meant to go to X and Y and Z, all of which
were important to Tibetan Studies; and when I said he must speak to the furniture
store which employs him, he said yes but for many years he had been laying the
anticipation in case the seed should ever be dropped. And he already knew every
step he would make, and why it was better that his wife not go with him and
anyway this was the once in his married lifetime that he could go without her
for his daughter was married to an aviator in Viet Nam and so would be with the
grandchildren with her mother until January 1st. And what what could he

do afterwards to show his gratitude? And I could only say, "Live happily."

I said we were doing this jointly, and so we shall. At least I
can carry a share of it. I checked the economy round trip fair to Delhi,
which is about $1200, and figure that to get him to north and around and to
live and to buy patties of cold rice for the monks, probably he would need
$2500. I am sure if there is less, he will give it back. But one cannot force,
or rather tempt, him into lavish expenditures because of it's being once-in-a-
lifetime. You can pay that share, if you want. My share will be less but
different. I said he must not take this trip at the expense of his usual
holiday with his wife, that this was not fair to her. So he must try to
get leave from Bullard's for his normal vacation with pay, and that I would
give him his pay that he would sacrifice otherwise. I suppose this is
lavish, but somehow it might make just the difference between a wife's
bitterness (plus his own sense of guilt) and his complete enjoyment of what
you have so wonderfully made possible for him. I think he wants to go out
in September or October.

So you see you are a fairy godmother, and can turn pumpkins into
jets, and prove there is no greater fantasy than life itself.

All love as always,

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

13 May 1965

Dearest Fido,

I have let two days pass without writing a letter. So do not look for the missing lots, as I did this morning when yours of the 7th and 10th arrived, with only references to what you had written about the Furry Dance. I accept this as non-Floral; but why Furry?)

This has been a maddening day, or at least early afternoon. In the morning after the breakfast dishes were done, and the flowers watered, and the nurse had come, I went to the dentist to have teeth cleaned and see about an inlay which had fallen out just after we reached Greece. A piece of taffy given by the guide was the source of the Fall, but I retrieved the gold at that time, thinking perhaps if the dentist could not put it back then I might lay it as a golden tribute to the feet of some saint. But he could put it back, and I am that much the richer through economy, even tho the unchosen saint is the poorer.

But this afternoon! I had finally been able to take the Oldsmobile on Monday morning to have the noise in the wheel eliminated, and the bruised spots on the body (where others had nicked me in the car parking lot) painted, and the car polished. As I had hoped to do to make the Oldlady spick and span for you. I waited half an hour for the bus to take me to the garage. Once there I waited a half hour for the boy, once he had started, to go to the back of the garage and deliver the car to me. The delivery was on the street because the garage was crowded, so I got in, and because it was black in the sky I drove home to get a raincoat (it has not rained). The same noise was in the wheel. When I got out I looked and the two or three chief bruised spots had not been touched. But they had polished of course, right over the paintless points. Well, I took it back wrapped in some angry words. And I will try again tomorrow.

My days have been pretty routine (that is, in the new routine which leaves little time free for anything). But last night Susan slept from 11:15 until 7 this morning, without waking. Which is a triumph and made her feel triumphant. It probably won't happen soon again, but at least she knows it can happen. The new sleeping pills must have helped. And the cabinet maker has delivered the table I had made to fit over the wheelchair. The top can tilt as desired, and it should be enormously useful. Now she can begin to write letters again, work on her diaries, fix photograph albums and the like.

Malco lm Cowley and his wife came for lunch on Wednesday, and he is now busy hopping from college to college and picking up fees in his bill for giving lectures. $1,000 from Miss for two days, $750 for ditto from Vanderbilt, $500 from Princeton for one day. His slightly plump face looked like a cross between a squirrel's (stuffed with nuts) and a Cheshire cat's (grinning). But I like him very much, and he has just been made a

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

member of the Academy instead of simply a member of the lower Institute, and
he is proud of the new rosette he sports in his buttonhole.

I thought you might be interested that your Christmas *Hounds and Hunting* in Ancient Greece was chosen as one of the 50 best books of the year, from the technical point of bookmaking (design, typography, layout, etc.)

And I have wondered what you would think of the case of Frank Bossard
as the latest in the British security breaks. It does indeed seem scandalous
to think that he had worked for the Nazis in Germany, and served a six-month
sentence in 1934 on 10 charges of check fraud. No one seemed to care anything
about his reputation for high living, but I liked best the statement about his
previous record. "He concealed his jail record on joining the air force in World
War II and on joining the intelligence service after the war. It came to light in 1956.
We said he had forgotten about it and was allowed to continue in intelligence."
Maybe there's something to be said for the central records of the FBI
after all. The pity is that the British really do know the rules of the game,
and taught them to me in an exemplary way. Their difficulty is that they seem
to think the rules don't apply to themselves.

Have had a huge 5-page single spaced letter from Heydt, just wanting to
talk I guess. But it is more relaxed than anything I have seen from him in
some time. He has passed his exam, and apparently did well at it. And this,
accomplished the first time, is a real achievement. I think I will forward
the letter to you when I have finished answering it; for it will brief you
better than I could by paraphrase.

And now at least briefly to your own letters. Two, of the 9th and 11th,
came this afternoon to fill the gaps. I am of course freely troubled about
Ethel, but do not see what you can do otherwise than as you have. In matters
of health she is probably a little stubborn, as Doris was. I mean that she
approved completely that Doris ought to consult in London or the States. But
not herself. This is human, but it would be a great consolation if she could
come to Prutting, or even to Yale. However, since she has made up her mind
I think she could only be bitterly, and perhaps dangerously, frustrated if you
were to give up the Quest this year. And I think this will be perhaps your
last year to do it, at least just this way. But, my, it is expensive. Still,
very much worth it since you love boats so.

Nothing could please me more than to have Beney come to Yale for his
trouble. But I suggest you ask Prutting which the best place is for this sort
of thing, now that Dr Germain is dead here cannot very well ask here without having
them automatically recommend themselves. I suspect Yale would be excellent,
however, and if Prutting confirms this then so much the better.

I liked your description of the frolic at Helston, and envy you the
chance to see it. But how lucky for you that we were not there. My presence
would have made it non-Empire, and I think that would have been worse even
than having come from outside Cornwall.

Glad you had a chance to read the McArthur book. He had an immense
dramatic flare, and this obviously was often needed. But not always.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

I was very much interested indeed to have your reactions to being with John Todd and his wife. And not altogether surprised. For don't you find it often true that one can carry on an interesting enough correspondence on particular chosen topics, and still not have much to talk about when in another's actual company? I do; the pleasantries won't suffice in conversation, at least of the kind you and I like. So keep up the letters with him, and put off the next visit.

It was sweet of George to leave Marvellistoo Lady Bigham, for no one could have done more for him than she did. And it was of course a gift to him in the first place. I am a little sorry she doesn't want it; I think it was he whom she really wanted, someone to nurse after the policeman died. And who was the other one? Silvia Townsend Warner, or Silvia Hay? (She would like it, I should think, except for the rates). George had so many girl friends tucked away in corners of England, that it would not surprise me to find that the Queen Mother had driven down to take him to Tunbridge Wells on the days when Lady Bigham couldn't make it.

Should one ask for a chance to have first crack at buying the books when they seemed particularly desirable to go with his correspondence at Yale? I mean he gave me the letters from Patrick White. If there are inscribed copies of books from White, I would like them to go with the letters. Perhaps you could ask Lady Bigham to have the executors get in touch with me. And there may have been books from Logan Smith and others whose correspondence he gave. And your letters to him? I don't know Lady B's address or I would cope. Or I can write Silva Hay. I just don't want to cross wires with your plans. As for the Dictionary of course it would be wonderful to have, a real treasure although a space consumer. But since it is yours anyhow, and one volume seems already to be here nothing could please me more. So long as I don't become an addict and have to reach out with trembling hand for my three words each morning.

I must look at the Saturday review for Chapin's review of Avalon. I bought one issue to see if anything was in it, but missed this. This will please Helen, for the Saturday Review has a good following even though I am not to be found in the crowd.

I hope all is calm on your return, and the pile of mail is not too overhwemingly large. But you will be off again in a few days for England and the Quest. "To be or not to be, that is the QUESTion!" I think it will be, and be a happy holiday for you all.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

14 May 1965

Dearest Fido,

A short note at the day's end with not much to report and no letter in from you to reply to. But the day itself has been peaceful enough. Susan again slept the entire night through without waking, except once and then to fall immediately asleep again. And I have just returned from recovering my car which I took back this morning for the tasks that weren't done yesterday. Fortunately it works well, or seems to, so it will be in shape for me to drive to Northampton (to Smith College) where I have a meeting of the officers of the New England American Studies Association. It begins at 1:30 but I cannot stay too long since I must be back in time for dinner and to relieve the nurse.

Most of the day has been spent in answering letters and writing recommendations. Not exciting but nice it is to contemplate the sealed envelopes at the day's end.

I have ordered from England one of the Aldington's on Catha's list, to be sent directly to her with my compliments. I should be able to pick up several of the others when I put my mind and free time to it.

A letter from Ingholt in which he is apparently hard at work on his Hatra book which he hopes to bring out in 1966. He comes back on the 15th of next month, but then presumably will plunge into his British lectures.

I enclose a pristine Eleanor Roosevelt for you to dispose of to Elsie or some one else. I leave to your judgement and conscience.

I met Needham today, and the furniture company will let him go. He plans now October which is certainly a better month than September. He will try to plan the advertising ahead of time; they and he do not wish to let him go for a month in addition to his fortnight annual vacation, and he says he must not because of planning ahead. So I will pay for a shorter period than I thought, in order to make up his salary lost by leaving and especially to keep up his pension payments and the like. He is in 7th heaven, and says that when he asked the president, the latter replied splendid, "I have always wished I could send you, so now I will no longer have it on my mind." And he has been made a Fellow of Trumbull College. "With one great joy, could I have dreamed of two?" he asked, only it was an exclamation not a question.

I will not be able to write until Monday. For tomorrow I will be mostly on the trail. And Sunday is my all-day nursing stint.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

17 May 1965

Dearest Fido,

I did not, as I told you I would not, come to the office
on Saturday; and because I cannot leave Susan on Sunday, did not come
then either. So it was like a feast today, after several previous days
of silence to have your letters of the 12th, and 13th, and a second of the
12th in the mail. And then to make the day a festival, the afternoon's
mail brought yours of the 14th and the 15th.

As you will know from my Friday letter, I am very much
troubled about Ethel, and wonder if there isn't some way she could be
persuaded to come over. Perhaps with you in the Fall, but that seems
too long to postpone it. Would it be possible if the Quest didn't
seem appropriate to the circumstances, for you to bring her over in
June? But I am afraid she may prove stubborn. And perhaps it is
fundamentally a question of fear, and that she doesn't want to know
the answer. What a wet blanket all this must have been for your trip.
And George's death to boot, even though we should all agree that it
was for the best. How glad I am that you are built of steel!

The Drake item sounds wonderful of course, but not really
precisely in your alley unless you wanted to use it to get money out
of England. But I am delighted that Agnes liked the Ralegh and could
have it. Your idea about the folio or a folio sounds like a good one,
but you didn't remember what the two were: whether 2nd, 3rd, or 4th. So
I don't know how they would fit with what we have here. Nor, of course,
whether either of the two is a better copy or a variant issue from what
you have in each category. My suggestion would be to have Maggs send
both over here, let me have them professionally compared with what is
already here, and then on advice (we can do this by mail or when you come
over in the Fall) decide on which one to give Agnes. One might as well
make the set here the best possible. But one from you to Agnes would,
I know, be a tremendous thrill for her as it was to Edith and as it was
to me. Does this make sense?

For the moment anyhow, although I will put your letter to
Bridget under lock and key, I should think best to save. Since it explains
with such great good sense about the adoption which some day may be
wondered at. Perhaps even by Pup.

Wilton House sounded lovely. I should love to see it some day.
At moments like this what wouldn't I give for a fling!

But I simply never believed that Baylis was 92! Did you? That
he should have your list of ailments doesn't seem, all things considered,
at all surprising. What is surprising is that he survives. Have you ever
put it to him to give you (suggest, that is) advice on what to in handling
Robert's allowances and funds eventually. I should not think he would mind,
and certainly he knows Herring better than anyone (as he now is).

You have really done your bit on Queenwood (I left off the 5)
in your memoirs, but I suppose no harm in doing a few paragraphs on the

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

18 May 1965

Dearest Fido,

I finished my last class for the year this afternoon. And that is a relief! But oh, the dissertations that now must be read in a hurry. And the long term papers from the class. And all the other duties I have been neglecting, partly because at home, evenings, I really can't do much work now. Mrs Dingle has been out day become of some mysterious, but no doubt none the less real, sickness. So that I am more than ever confused by the constant ringing of the telephone. And I have just, not having entered a longish dentist appointment for Friday, agreed to see the two men from New York's Grolier Club about the historical novel show in the Fall. (I had thought to get a nibble from you after casting so tempting a bait, but the fly simply became wet on the water.)

No letters from you today, but no doubt I will be hearing of your adventures with Elsie tomorrow or the next day when you will have had time to get back to civilization. It is nice to think of you safely back at Kenwin, as of this moment. I only hope life will be peaceful for a few weeks for you, anyhow.

I do not altogether remember what I wrote about, hurriedly, last night. But I think I did make a suggestion of how to go about chosing the right folio for Agnes. Though you may well and rightly think this is more bother than you feel necessary. I always make a few quivers like a bibliographer.

One matter I did not discuss yesterday was a letter from John Maggs quoting a letter from Mr Sims (the bookdealer who sold Bridget Patmore's thing to Maggs for you.) Maggs says the papers "are on the way to [me] at the moment." "I am writing to Sims," Maggs writes, "that I am passing his enquiry on, and perhaps you might like to write to Mr Kershaw direct." He then quotes Sims's letter:

"Mr Alister Kershaw... has written to us ordering item 1 (Aldington photographs) 0 from our catalogue 61. He is Mr. Aldington's executor and wishes to purchase the collection so that they will be available for a biography. As you said you were interested in buying the collection for certain items in it possibly you may be willing to sell the rest to him; I have not divulged your name to him."

Now of course I haven't seen the photographs, and know only that you thought them most interesting. And I suppose Kershaw wants them for the biography he and Harry Moore are doing together. I don't see why one shouldn't let them use what they think they need, but I also am not sure there is any reason for giving them (and indeed one would have to give the photos to them) the originals. I could have them copied perhaps on xerox, so they could see what ones they wanted actually to use, and when they had chosen I could have a good copy made and blown up as it would in any event have to be. Does this make sense? And in writing him shall I simply say my own name without drawing

yours in to it? That might be simpler, and in any event he must sooner or
later know who I am, and my genuine interest in R.A. through Hilda. My idea
is that the originals would eventually be a fine addition to what I have
been giving to as the "H.D. Collection of Richard Aldington." Eventually
I hope it will be complete, or complete enough. Fortunately Yale already
had a fine collection of R.A., and I am not buying any duplicates between
the two.

I was much annoyed this morning at the dentist's, especially
after having to wait twenty minutes, to find that the little job which I
had insisted at least needed attention (he at first didn't think so) turns
into a major rebuilding of a cap for a front lower tooth. So he drilled
away, and at the moment my tongue is frightfully conscious of the ragged
edge of a volcano rim.

I enclose the first of the ads for Avalon, from the Sunday Times and the Times of Monday. I am delighted they are using Islay's picture. I tried to look up your review in the Saturday Review, but the library copy had already been sent to the binders.

The stack on my desk is big, but I can only groan in sympathy
for what your desk at Kenwin must look like with its accumulation of mail.
Courage! For this as for so much else just at the moment.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

19 May 1965

Dearest Fido,

Your double-yoker came in its shell today, with yours
of the 16th and 17th to bless me. Alas, that rain should have marred
your last day of Konstanz. But thanks be to the Lord that you did have
two good days of at least this trip. I think of the misfortune you had
in your trips to the States and to Cornwall, and weep for you. One has
heard so much about the country around the Bodensee, that I wish I might
see it some day. Some day perhaps I will. And Elsie, maybe this is
where she will want to settle down. Though I still think the Lausannelokale
is more apt to be a sustained cup of tea for her.

My Sims catalogue, with the Aldington items in it arrived only
today. I keep telling the Library they _must_ have all key British catalogues
sent airmail. And all power and thanks to Maggs for keeping their eyes
alert for you. I think there will be a hundred Texas-hype offers for the
two items you luckily got. Maggs really deserves a medal.

Such a nice letter from Sylva Norman today, thanking for the
Frances Steloff book. She does write so graciously; it was a pleasure to
read. And especially to read her on Avalon: "As for Avalon, I was so
excited and impressed by it that I think Collins must be utterly mad, or
at least incapable of judging or understanding anything, to hesitate about
publishing it. For me it is almost Bryher's masterpiece, short though it
is. What you miss in length you gain in depth and concentration. I thought
the atmosphere of suspense and surrounding evil absolutely masterly, the characters
wonderfully presented with the minimum of fuss, and the sense of a country's
imminent collapse (which is of course Bryher's specialty) absolutely terrifying
because it is done with those few simplified and telling touches--and because
this time we can, as it were, check up to some degree on the approaches to
disaster, This I, in my historical ignorance of places and periods, could
never do with the other novels. It seems to me that her touch has never been
surer and her appeal never one tenth so great. Do you think Collins belong to
the Movement???"

"Also --as I remarked when
writing to Bryher the other day--it would make a superb film if imaginatěvely
directed, with a script that kept strictly to the text. All the visual details
are already supplied; and the atmosphere ought to be easily transferable to
the screen. Of course it would need a director with as much--no, not quite so
much, since the material is there--genius as Bryher's. I do hope it will sell
well in America; and that if Collins still won't bring it out they will be decent
enough to let some other publisher have it. (You know, I sent _Beowulf_ to
Secker and Warburg who were very keen to publish, but Collins refuse to let
them have it, _pretending_ they might do something about it. If that isn't dog-
in-the-manger, what is it?)

Who could ask for a nicer comment or one more acute. But I do think this was
rather shoddy of Collins to refuse permission for _Beowulf_ at least without
consulting you or me. Since they have only the option on the next book, and
if they don't publish then you are free of the option. But Helen never told
me this, at least I mean told me this story about _Beowulf_.

I enclose the first Churchill stamp I have seen. For you to dispose of as you choose to.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

20 May 1965

Dearest Fido,

How some days go! This morning when I got to the office
Professor Woodward came for a long talk that went on until after
eleven. Then I had my hair trimmed and it was noon. And at noon
arrived a Professor Klaus Schaar and his wife from Lund University in
Sweden, here I thought for a two day's visit to Yale. I had been
asked by the American Council of Learned Societies to sponsor them,
and since the ACLS had just given one of our graduate students a
fat fellowship I could hardly say no. And so I took them and two
Yale professors to lunch. And then arranged for the wife to have
a meeting with the Yale Press while I took her husband to see the
British show at the art gallery. And then I walked them around the
libraries and the colleges and gave them a cup of coffee and a few
books and then arranged so that they could have dinner at the
Graduates Club as my guests (tho I have to go home now to take over
at Goodrich Street), and so the day has gone.

Yesterday I was delighted to have finished reading a
dissertation on 'Chu Tzu-ch'ing as Essay·ost and Critic', today I
couldn't even finish reading an undergraduate seniors honors thesis
of Everit Schinn, the painter.

And I cannot even finish writing this note to you. But,
anyways,

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

21 May 1965

Dearest Fido,

You must forgive me for sluggish letters these days,
but I begin to slow up a bit and the sediment floats to the top.
There are simply too many papers to be corrected, dissertations to
read, crises to solve. I am kept at a jog trot.

This noon I dutifully lunched with a Mrs Munz up from
New York with more papers to add to the collection of her father's
writings which she has given the Library. Her father: Edgar Saltus
an American fin de siecle writer, considered naughty in his day
but not now. She is in her late '70's, did not know her father very
well since her prim and affluent mother divorced the father soon
after the breeding of the child.

And then this afternoon came the H. Bradley Martin
and Mr Austin the librarian of the Grolier Club to discuss the
exhibition for the fall. It is to open about October 20 and run
until just before Christmas. So you should certainly be able to
see it. That is if you are interested (you did not comment on
my saying there would be a show, but I took this to indicate hurry
on your part rather than disinterest.)

Martin, a wealthy collector who worked for me in London,
who I did not know then that we had books in common, was immensely
impressed by the holdings and the colorful display it might make.
We will use the Henty scripts (which Maggs got from Blackie's) and
some of the letters; perhaps a few of the books too, though the real
rarities one may have to borrow from elsewhere. The Ballantyne
manuscripts, drawings and the like, of course they agree is unparalleled.
And there will be at least a few letters from Fenn, Kingston, etc.

The first problem is what to choose, especially since I
think the show will be an important one, the first of its kind. Therefore
it must really show high spots. For that reason I think I will limit
the authors to five or six, since the limit is 150 volumes shown--and not
this if manuscripts are used. So say it will be about 120 volumes to be
divided probably unequally. I think of the 5 as being Henty, Ballantyne,
Fenn, Mayne Reid, and Kingston. Who does this leave out who is outstandingly
important? I am sure there must be a slip here. I shall try Brimmell to
see whom he thinks should be included, and what the collectors high spots
are for each. I am ignorant.

The second problem will be to find a name. I suspect I shall
have to look through the interviews with the men to see if a phrase stands
out. Do you know of any?

Everything flourishes during the pleasantly warm weather we have
been having, but no rain has fallen for a fortnight and things begin to dry

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

up. Poor Susan suffers with the plants, or rather for them, naturally, because she so obviously can't put out the hoses and see that things are sprinkled. I do what I can mornings after the dishes and the nursing and the orchids, but I phoned the nursery man again to get him going on making the estimates for putting in a controlled sprinkling system. I had thought of putting it off for a year, but this is stupid. This year above all, whether Susan sits at home and watches, or worries from the distance of Johnson's Point, one ought to be relieved of the burden of hurrying back from the shore to turn hoses off or on. I can manage it, for the insurance will take care of a large part of the hospital expenses.

Your letter of the 19th came this afternoon, and I like thinking of you back at Kenwin again. I am glad I didn't write the Glock. It is annoying to write and then hurl a letter only to have it fly overboard. Don't worry about the Needham cheque since he will not need anything for a time, and god only knows his quest might be off. The money once given Yale will be hard to get back. But how excited he is! Trumbull College is one of the smaller units into which Yale is divided. I am a Fellow of Jonathan Edwards College. Trumbull is named for the Jonathan Trumbull who was first governor of Connecticut after the Revolution. He was a sufficiently great grandfather of Susan. # What a joke that I did not click when I heard the name Weaver, for I had just arranged for him to be a visiting research fellow in American Studies, working under Martz as director. His project is Williams, and I hope he at least likes Williams poetry. In any event I shall have plenty of chance to size him up. He is obviously clever, did very good exams at Cambridge, and sounds slightly journalistic in his interests. It will be hard to conceal the fact that I have Bob's papers, but at least I'll have time in which to study my ploy. Will you want to see him when you come? # I am most interested about the Fallas family, and will see that all is preserved. # Do you think it indicated that I send the Brig the book on mcArthur written by his aide? It is a little critical I gather, and the Brig might enjoy a tale or two. I leave to you. # Interesting reactions to Avalon. Did I tell you that Mrs Bennett thought it your best? The two girls have not mentioned it. I think definitely an older person's book, which is fine. Bryan and his friends may be different, since in a sense they are all country boys. It is the gangs in London who made up your movement, the restless ones. # I will write Lady Bigham at least to thank her for all she did for George, and then mention the others. Thank you for sending the dictionary. I shall sink under them, but happily. Why not send back Coigny's coat and see what Susan can do about it. Or, better, give it along to some one who will fit it, and we'll repeat next Fall. # I shall see what I can do about the Thackeray girls when the grades are in. Otherwise all is hell.

Except when your letters come.

I wrote the man who did the article on 'Nancy & India' a year ago for an offprint. As for the man who said 'I regret this / have so much to say' after the article, I think it's a little too strong. However, I can't resist trying it out. It's a very good idea, and I think you'll find it very interesting. I can't wait to hear it.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

2 May 1965

Dearest Fido,

A true slogger's day. I did my dishes and nursing and
then watering, and afterwards waited until the market was open to
do the weekend marketing and pay the food bills for what had been
delivered during the week. And from then on until now I have been
at the office reading a dissertation. It is interesting, but rather
discursive as its 400 pages show. I had hoped to finish it today,
since I begin my 36-hour shift tonight, but have 150 pages more to
go on it, before I turn to the third and final of the dissertations.
For I must get both done before Monday. I have all the term papers
for my graduate seminar as well as 15 four-hour comprehensive examinations
for seniors to grade as of Monday afternoon.

These are the days one lives only to endure. Pray for
me now and in these hours of my need. Two yellowbacks have come yesterday
and the day before. One arrived this morning but I have no t yet opened
it. There was no letter, but your splendid missive upon arrival (touched
by your joy at being back at a machine again, and mine for having you
there) will suffice for the weekend. The yellowbacks were nòcely
filled and read with profit and enjoyment. But I do not remember anything
which needed comment. Jean Starr obviously is determined not to be
happy; I think she has conditioned her responses so that when sparked
she glooms.

I thought you might be interested in the enclosed Prescott
on Grass. I think he has given up all pretensions to anything but the
role of Old Auntie Critic. He's not a fool but I care less for him
when he picks the pieties.

Susan has been doing well, and her spirits keep up, and
for over a week now she has slept seven hours at night without being
disturbed. Still, life is boring and I do what I can to drum up
visitors. When school is over and the papers are done perhaps I can
bring a few in evenings. Just lately we have been going over the
Greek photographs, combining this year's with a few from last year;
that is, transplanting and weeding so the whole will be proper for you
when you come.

I won't write tomorrow.

All love as always

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

24 May 1965

Dearest Fido,

An absolute harvest today. In the morning's post was
yours of the 21st. Then in the late afternoon mail came three more:
two on the 22nd, and one of the 21st.

This has been another day on dissertations, with my final
one (which has been disputed) about half done. I hope to finish that
tonight, but have much checking to do, since the girl is careless in
her quotations--not vitally I suppose some would say, but in a disserta-
tion one must clean under the rugs too.

My 36-hour duty weekend went well. I begin to fall into
an approximation of a routine, which helps. And, fortunately, Susan
has slept nights from 11:30 until 7 the next morning, and this is a
godsend to me. Saturday night a couple came in to pay a visit, at
my invitation, and this served to break the monotony for Susan, no
one having come during the day. We dine, but do not linger, about 6:45
and then Susan goes back to bed, the nurse rubs her back etc., and
she stays abed until about 9. Then she gets up until 11 or a little
later, which intentionally tires her again. If guests come earlier,
of course she loses her early rest, and if she gets up too early she
is in bed again too soon for the night.

We made rather a new step forward in the afternoon, when

I e

5:30 p.m. 25 May

xperimented and found that I could take the wheelchair along the
side of the greenhouse and thereby reach the front lawn (or the corner
of it) so that Susan could see the planting. Encouraged by that, I
reversed the direction and pushed the wheelchair down by the rubbish
burner so she could see the blossoming azaleas at the foot of the back
lot, and then along the path and into the garage driveway so that
she could examine the rose bed and the garden on the banking. Next
Sunday perhaps she can sit in her chair and direct me while I do the
more delicate and risky weeding. This will be hard both on my knees
and my nerves, but I hope will kill time before it does me. At any
rate the whole episode was a kind of liberation, and I think Susan was
pleased.

Yesterday morning I spent mostly at the dentist, but was
annoyed to have to wait 40 minutes beyond the time set for my appointment.
However I did have the foresight to bring a dissertation to read, and so
in a sense wasted no time that the dentist would not have wasted anyhow.
I read on in the dissertation, -- one on Elinor Wylie -- during the day
and again last night, especially checking the girl's quotations from Miss
Wylie's poetry. What with one consideration and another I did not pass
the dissertation, and despite the other 3 votes in its favor the professors
upheld my dissent. I always hate to do this, but feel strongly that one

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

must uphold standards. And although she was glib she was messy.

I stopped in for a few minutes at the Osbornes last evening to meet an Arthur Crook, editor of the Times Lit Sup; complimented him on what appeared to be a new lease of life, only to have him say this was his 6th year as editor. I said you liked it too; he knew about your novels, had heard a new one was out here, I said Collins didn't want it, he said I suppose because she made her reputation as a historical novelist. It's like Melville, after the success of *Typee*, lamenting his fate to go down in history as a man who lived with the cannibals. Anyhow I suspect it's indicated that you don't give in to Collins and instead keep on with your memoirs. Everyone always says to me that they hope you will carry it on.

The package of Aldington material arrived today from Maggs. I have not had a chance really to go thru it carefully. The pictures look like an extraordinary trove, but will need your expert eye to identify the people in them. You really must, or we'll never know. There are many good ones of R.A., and several of Uncle Norman. I had read thru the letters too; the best by far are the three from you and the one from Hilda. Hers is the only one with reference to Pound, otherwise nothing related to him, tho that hardly matters. The others mostly to Brigit are interesting but not really important, at least at first reading. But good to have, as is the whole lot. And I congratulate you on snapping the two items up.

No letter from you today, but yesterday's takes care of several days on both sides of yesterday. I hope all goes well with the Quest. A letter from the Brigadier today to me implies that she certainly expects to go, and he dreams of his visit to London and the regimental dinner while you eat fish stew on the boat. # But of course I would like to see eney here, if I know whether we have the right man at Yale. I hate to have him waste time. # I had not really thought you wanted the Drake, although I daresay it would be a gem. If Maggs thinks it could go out, maybe one of Yale's donors would buy it. # Splendid that Petrie is to help with the Queenwood memoir. As soon as papers are graded I will try to cope with the Thackeray girls' schooling. Surely we have the book in the library. # Aurelia H sent you a nice letter. I fear I will not be able to get her this spring as I promised. But it is quite impossible to get away, and if I did later it would be for something gayer than Minerva. # The historical novel show will open about October 20th. I do not yet know what the date of the ladies' night will be, but it would be fun if you came for the speaker. I don't know yet who this would be. # I am so sorry about the Ines and Elsie row; alas if you have to choose between them there really can't be a choice. But as you say, Ines now has her papers and so is safe. Could Elsie find a nice Swiss girl to help, or a German speaking one? Or does she need some one she can boss around? Maybe she could import one from the Bodensee region. # I was delighted to see Islay's letter. It seems to me I have not heard of the boys for many weeks now. I shall be curious to hear your report on the castle. You must not wait too long after your return from England. # Sylva's letter was much like hers to me so I will not enclose mine. But I am glad you foam a little with me against Collins. # What fun, even though such a gross misunderstanding, to think that Mrs Phillips could think you were supposing an elect and damned in Avalon. Alas, Jovanovich may have been right: people don't really seem to know what Avalon is.

or when
Allan
Norman

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

26 May 1965

Dearest Fido,

I spent the morning quite literally at the mercy of the dentist, and must say I had a mouthful. Or too many mouthsfull, for I kept biting down on sticking substances while he made mold after mold for the tooth which is to allow me to grin again. After the molds were finally accomplished he began on the proper color, but I suggested I go to the toothmaker myself and let him sketch out the proper shade of the proper color. And this I did. And so there was no morning left.

This afternoon I have spent, except for a few conferences with officials too high in their station of life to put off, on graduate term papers. Those for students seeking degrees were due tonight at 5, but I have only one more in this category to do, and so can submit them the first thing in the morning. Which seems to me as good.

When I thanked you yesterday for the R.A. packets, I forgot also to thank you for the *Life of John Davis* which was enclosed with the others. So I now do! Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Alas, the Aldington volume I had thought to have bought for Catha from Brimmell turned out to have been sold. But I am sure I can pick up another eventually on this side. I wait only for the academic chores to be finished. Brimmell was delighted to hear about the Grolier show. He says the only copy of the privately printed *Hudson's Bay* by Ballantyne he knows of is in the Sadleir collection in California. Possibly, he says, Ballantyne's daughter still has one. I think I will see if her could persuade her to sell it to go with the ms. And he mentions from his own collection a Henty in dustwrapper, which makes my mouth water. He will lend, but I doubt would sell. He says also that Kingston's *Infant Amusements* (1867) has a frontispiece by Kate Greenaway, her first appearance in print. I also asked him about the rarest of the Henty items, *Gabriel Allen, M.P.* "This was probably issued in pictorial wrappers. Only one copy seems to have survived and this came from Mrs Henty who gave it to Battersea Public Library...who have all the family collections, etc. There is no copy in the B.M. or any other library or collection in this country." I wonder if they would lend it, given the granddaughter's permission. What do you think? It would of course be a marvelous jewel at the top of the crown.

A letter came today from Silvia Hay, which you might find amusing. "You will be feeling sad," she writes, :as I am, at losing our dear Plankino. D. Bigham went every day to see him, when he was so ill. She said the nurses were devoted to him, because he was so polite and nice to them. I remember meeting him when I was at R.A.D.A. (I think) about 1912, [what is R A DA?] I was staying with the Bighams & they said 'Plankino is coming tomorrow.' And I thought 'an Italian nobleman I suppose--how alarming.' It was soon afterwards that I said to Mrs Bigham 'I can't come to your house any more, I'm in love

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

with your husband' -- & she said 'Oh my dealing what do you see in him?'
In those days Plankino was a friend of E.F.Benson, & Lutyens who built
him a house or rather designed it. I remember meeting Plankino once in
Sloane Square when he said 'I have to find a cook for Lady Sackville'--And
I remember a party Plankino gave in Glebe Place where an Irish actress sang that
lovely carol about Jospeh & Mary & the cherry tree. I have just found a
Plankino letter which says ''You were kind to write to your loving old
goat!' Now I can't have any more of those letters. When are you & Susan
coming to London? I am bothered with arthritis & am having treatment
from a strange friend who goes nearly into a trance, & puts his hands on my
waist. The first time a strange heat came from nowhere. The Christian
Faith Healers disapprove of this one because he is agnostic. Do please
come to London soon.''

Last night the professor who directed the dissertation which was
voted unacceptable after my report, phoned me to say he thought ''we''
had made a grave mistake. In this case ''we'' means ''us'' of course, since
''|'' was responsible. I simply repeated that I didn't think we had. But
how sad it is when everyone can't always succeed.

It threatens rain outside, and I hope I shall be caught in torrents
en route to my car. For the earth is parched, and Susan worries for her
flowers and leaves of grass. And so do I.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

YALE UNIVERSITY

NEW HAVEN · CONN

28 May 1965

Dearest Fido,

I couldn't write yesterday, alas, because of slaving at
reading comprehensive examinations. Thank God I finished the last
of this chore this afternoon, and now must buckle down to do whatever
term papers have been handed in. I shall have part of tomorrow at
the office, after I have done my chores and run my weekend errands,
but Sunday is my male-nurse day, and because Monday is a holiday
(Memorial Day) the nurse will be off for that day too. Only I am
glad to say she has agreed to come in, give Susan a decent bath on
Monday to compensate for my rather skapdash job on Sundays, make
her bed, and the like. But no office, and I fear no letters to you.
My only consolation is that because of the holiday there will be
none for you.

This morning was hectic at home, but for no alarming
reasons. While we were still breakfasting, the contractors came to
repair the front sidewalk. They discovered they could not lift the
concrete blocks as they had hoped in estimating the job, so a new
sidewalk must be put in. I am not surprised, but alas of course the
cost will up. The town of Hamden has sent us a legal warning at the
present state so there is no alternative. The contractors will also
have to redo the driveway, but we had planned that. And I had them
put in a new boundary stone for the lime (mere stone, I think, is the
right word for it). Then the landscape people came to put in a small
fence to keep the next door children from sliding winters on the azaleas,
and keep their mowing machine from it. But they started to put in the
fence as though we were installing a concentration camp, and that had to
be changed. And the boss from the landscape gardeners had to be summonsed
to say where the drive was to be excavated to install two pipes for the
irrigation system I am putting in for watering the lawns and planting.
I think we spoke about this when you were here, and you agreed it would
be a worthy venture. It should eliminate or alleviate a constant source
of fret during the summer months, even when we are at the shore. It costs
no more than the planting, and why plant only to kill off?

I did take a minute off late in the day, to pay bills, balance
my check book, and answer brief notes. One was from Maria asking me down
to an affair at Goethe House on the 11th. But evening of course, and of
course I cannot get away. One really is pinned down. I notice by their #
on Fifth Avenue that they must be in the former home of a college roommate
of mine where I spent endless weekends during my four undergraduate years
at Yale. I must check; mine may have been 1114, but I think not. It would
be the right sort of tiny house.

Another of the small bills dribbled in from Harcourt. I don't
quite follow it always, but am sure it will come out right in the end.
Jovanovich had another small picture add for Avalon in midweek. I think this
is an excellent way to help it. The Cooper lady tells me that they have sold

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

a number of copies to students. I still think it an older person's book. Helen seems to be having a success with Grass's *Dogs*, which the reviewers admire but think a little fantastic and overlong, though not getting angry about it as Prescott did. Still, I suspect the strain is constant. One no sooner has luck with one book than one feels the pressure of repeating. But with what?

Your letter of the 26th was in today's mail. I take it you will not need me to look up the book on the Thackeray girls, though I will see what may be available other than their own memoirs.

Weaver: why bother to take time out from Cornwall to see him, when he will be in New Haven when you are here both in the spring and the fall. (reverse the order). One probably can't conceal your presence. So save precious English hours for England.

No, we deliberately left Holly off the list. You thought it not her kind of book, and anyway did not want particularly to keep on.

And no, too, you must not worry about the Stanhope's changing its nature. It had long before your last stay there been sold to the company that bought the St Regis. They annoubce no changes except for the painting which we have both seen. I think they have owned the Stanhope now for about a year.

I was delighted with your account of your reading. This is most valuable for the record, and of course fascinating to me personally.

I shall write tomorrow about George's books and letters. What an incredible thing to burn his papers. As you say, it does prove what not only can happen but does.

29 May 1965

Dearest Fido,

All morning in preparing material on a proposed U.S. government

educational grant to universities (which could include Yale), and this afternoon
in putting together a notice to go to German universities about two postdoctoral
fellowships which have been given by a New York Foundation to bring Germans
here for two years of study of American matters. But at least they have been
nagging my conscience and I am delighted to have them done. So will I be with
the remaining graduate seminar papers--but will have to take them home with me
and hope to work on between times on my Sunday and Monday nursing stint.

Great excitement in the air, but since there are no afternoon
newspapers one cannot quite get the story straight. Still, I was told by the
Provost of the university so it should be more or less correct. This
morning a little after 5 a m masked bandits tied up the night watchman in
the Yale Library, managed (this seems to have some strange inferences) to
shut off the burglar alarm system, drilled open one safe and got open another
in the famous coin collection and escaped with the very best pieces. One
man said a hundred thousand dollars worth, but the provost agreed with me
that this was ridiculously small, perhaps they are worth a million. There
is no way to value often unique pieces. But I should think the antiquities,
Roman, Greek, etc would be hard to get rid of. The famous collection of
American and European gold might be harder. It was all cleverly timed, and
if the watchman (so they say) had not discovered them, the collection would
have been closed because of Monday's holiday until Tuesday and so the loss not
known. The watchman must ring the campus police to report every two hours,
so when he had not rung in at 7, at 7:10 the chief on duty with three men
went to the library, found the watchman handcuffed, a bag over his head, and
all the trimmings of a bank robbery. To make it more intriguing the provost
said it would be better not to say too much for a bit, because some angle are
a little mysterious and I suspect they suspect an inside job or at least collusion.
We shall revel, but what a pity tomorrow is Sunday and I will be on nursing duty
on Monday. I shall send you clippings.

Nothing from you in today's mail so I shall skip about a bit.
There is no need to hurry with any money for Needham. He will not be going
until October, and the end of the summer is soon enough. And anyhow I can pay
your share as well as my own, and we can settle when you come over.

I had a pleasant letter from Horace-- a note rather. I shall
try to drive down in a week or so when chores are finished. Just now I am a
little overwhelmed. He had the extra phone put in, the only cost (for installation)
was $5.00. Horace is pleased and admits he was silly not to have done this
before. I am so impressed by Susan's enjoyment of the terrace (altho of course
she is an outdoor person) that I am half tempted when I can to suggest putting

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

down flagstone for a terrace outside Horace's front door. I should think it would be good for him occasionally to sit outside, and he could walk out if it were smooth. I'll have to take another look when I go again.

It was strange to go home last night and find the sidewalk in front of the house torn away, with great danger barriers and blinking lights to warn people in the dark. I think I told you that the town officials said it must be repaired.

I am pleased you have heard from Romaine. I will write her when the chores are done. And I will cope with sending the Brigadier the book about McArthur. He is genuinely interested, and the knowledge is a kind of status symbol for him, a regimental tie. To go back a little, I can only weep at the disaster to eorge's letters. I suspect he gave me his choices ones, but so many wou'd have been brought up to date. I am troubled too about the books, and if Sotheby's want to auction them then I suppose I must grin and bear it. For if I take the plums then what is there to carry the others at auction. I suppose George wanted to be of the least possible bother to anyone, but I do wish he had made you one of his executors. I do not approve of having only impersonal executors, which was one reason I was a little reluctant simply to sign away my executorship to Philip. In the States of course executors can claim, and often do, a very heavy percentage as fee, and it is a way of giving some people a little extra. r one can waive this, as I have always done. But when I offered to do this for Hilda's estate, Philip said in England there were no fees attached anyhow.

You asked about Marie Boruff, the Green Knightingale. She is a great favorite of mine, has just been made Professor of English here (the first woman to hold this), is unmarried, could I think be a little that way in a stiff fashion, writes poetry, teaches history of the language, was offered the presidency of the Connecticut College for Women and refused. It was she I said might teach you to read Gawain. She would be delighted to meet you. This year she was on leave of absence or I would have introudced her to you on your visit.

I am eager of course to know whether or not you will be Questing. How few people are willing to face up to their health! You are one of the few. When I mentioned Ethel to Pup, she said, "Just like Doris!" But you remember how severely critical of Doris, Ethel herself was. I do think too many people's time, and too many pounds are involved, not to try to get things into order. But she treats herself even more casually than an accounts book. But I do hope you can go, and I know it will be fun once you get the seaswell and the roll under your keel.

My, how glad I will be when the last papers are done. This year especially the end of the year has been difficult. Not the least so because everyone else seems to have jaunted off, leaving their tasks for me to do. Fortunately I cannot jaunt anyhow, so I cannot be tempted.

Now I must go to a lawn party honoring the retirement of a professor of English. And 18th century specialist, not my period but he is a good friend. I must say, at this moment, I envy him. Why not fly with me to the North Pole and we'll both retire in an igloo there and sell postcards to the tourists.

No letter until Tuesday

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

31 May 1965

Dearest Fido,

This can be only the merest scrap of a letter. Indeed I had not thought there would be even this, today. But Mrs Eurich has come in to give Susan her bath, remake the bed, etc., and I take over again at 10:30. I came to the office to record some graduate school grades, sending the results by post (even within Yale) so they will be sure to be in as due tomorrow. One being at the Divinity School and another set at the Drama School, I don't want to trudge to deliver them by hand.

Yesterday was coolish, but Susan sat outside, and I wheeled her to the driveway so she could give me directions as I weeded. Perhaps we can do a little more today. Mrs Eurich is not strong enough to take the wheelchair over the grass for the necessary distance.

I think I wrote you that we had been working on the photographs from Greece, and we hope to put at long last all the slides into some sort of available order. Last night I began with the pictures of our trip to Chesterfield, and one wept with nostalgia and laughed at some of the mishaps as we waited for Moody. I think you might like to see them again. This set and those from the two trips to Greenland are the worst to sort out. What a northern buff you made out of me. It is all your fault, you know. Look at the consequences: a collection of eskimo carving, the restoration of Brattahlid, and eventually sections of your memoirs.

No new bulletins from the coin robbery, though I suspect the police think it likely to have been an inside job. How could the burglar alarm be off and then on again? Were there really five men to do a job of this sort? It sounds like a boy scout troup. How could they get in the safe so knowledgeably? Etc. Etc.

We have asked the Hotsons to come this afternoon for a visit. Will they arrive sining, and will Leslie bring his guitar and tell stories? Mary seemed pleased to be asked, and has been most thoughtful in sending Susan any number of cards. It is a good way to heal any breach Leslie feels. I shall give him a copy of the little Japanese book.

Your Ascension Day bulletin, of the 27th, was in the morning's mail. You will certainly have to bring in the Thackeray rumor, for it is a credit to a school to be worthy of such rumors. I do what I can for you tomorrow or the next day, while it is all fresh in your mind.

I must pop off now, to take on my male nurse duties. I still have the flowers to water also.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

1 June 1965

Dearest Fido,

I hope as the month develops that I shall not be forced
into the pattern of writing you snippets. But the office is crowded
with end-of-the-year people, my desk is crowded with end-of-the-year
papers, and general confusion reigns.

Just now I am back from a family affair, in which I
bought Justus a bicycle to replace the stolen one which I had orig-
inally also given him. This new one has three gears and he is in
seventh heaven. I took him hope with it, and the boys he plays
with were there in seconds while he played the proud possessor but
generous patron of rides.

The visit yesterday from the Hotsons went off very well,
and I think they were as pleased to come as we were to have them.
Leslie was, I thought, a little timid. But I had a copy of the Japanese
book ready as a gift to him, suitably inscribed, and this relaxed him.
Mary never needs being relaxed. They brought a large jar of cranberry
jam made from wild berries on their place in Maine. This was a consider-
able gesture, for such cranberries are scarce, and to pick them takes
hours. I had forgotten that when Mary broke her hip in Cambridge, and
lay on the floor in pain while she waited for the doctor and the ambu-
lance to come, she suggested to Leslie that they sing madrigals. Which
they did, and when a kindly old English woman came in from the other
half of the house and they invited her to join them she did so, asking
only "Is this what you do in America when someone breaks a hip!" Leslie
brought a book of Negro dialect stories (the Green Pastures variety of
rephrased bible stories) and read two long stories to us: one about Noah
and the other about David and Bathsheba. I must say he read them very
well, and we were a good audience so he was pleased. Mary kept up a
running commentary, like the endman in a minstrel show, as Leslie read.
So the effect was rather like a duet, or possibly just a fugue. They
were meticulous, stayed an hour and then left. I gave Mary the recorder,
to save myself a trip to Northford. She seemed really disappointed that
Susan could not play it as she walked.

Yours of the 29th came this morning, and the 29th this
afternoon. I will respond more at length tomorrow. But am glad you are
Questing, even though I shall miss letters from you. I am sure Ethel
will be fine, but hope if it is not her heart that you can persuade her
to have a general going over and checkup. I only wish too that you could
do the same for poor Beney. I wish he could come over either to Prutting
or to me. Then one would feel sure.

I must hurry back to take over my night shift.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

2 June 1965

Dearest Fido,

I just risk this last one to Kenwin, since nothing in it matters
and perhaps Coigny anyhow will forward it to England. This is sulky weather
here; the humidity is complete, and it rains like a cold water tap just turned
on. However Susan will be glad for the grass, and so should I be.

Have just again been through your recent letters to take notes
on what I must do. I doubt that I sufficiently congratulated you on your
Thackeray research. It was most impressive. Nor thanked you for the Hawthorne
tidbit which I much welcomed. It must have been fun digging in, rather like
being with Miss Dudley on N-N.

You asked about the girl with the dissertation failed. In this
case she will be given her degree next year if she satisfies the director of
graduate studies that she has corrected the errors named. She should do more,
but her director (a friend of mine) feels we did a grave injustice. I don't.
#I'm glad you didn't get the Drake. It would have been fun, but taken us off
on another tack. It is hard enough to juggle the other collections as it now
stands. #It is most distressing about Beney, and I hope he will be much better
when you return. # The Gough new contract is obviously a great compliment to
them, giving them all benefits and all freedom simultaneously. It should
please them and give them a chance really to look around. Meanwhile I hope
they will be able to make a second trip to the States. I should like so much
to meet them.

As for a trip to Switzerland and Italy this late August, I
simply don't know what to say, since I have no idea how things will be. It
looks now as though we would not try to go to the shore at all. For as you
know, Susan cannot put her left foot down, nor take even a single step. It
will be well into July before she gets going on this, and then will have to
have many exercises etc., all much more easily done in town than at Johnson's
Point. Your free time and the boys' comes awfully late, in the mad rush of
late summer tourists and the opening of the academic year here. I will want
to get away for four or five days some time, and will need to; but doubt that
I dare be away longer or can get nurses to stay nights for much more than a
week. But we will see. I don't want to ethel you, so hire no quest for us
yet. I have been thinking of possibly a week trip on the Erie canal in a
canal boat. That would be quiet enough, god knows.

Your letters of the 30th and 31st came today in the late morning mail.
The new study of the Rossetti's sounds fun. I do mean to bring out Hilda's
book eventually, perhaps in some more or less privately printed edition. Probably
I'll end up with a miniature Contact Press, so long as some other firm does the
distribution. But I'll have to get other things out of the way first, and have
no intention whatsoever of becoming even a "publisher". # I must have you meet
Marie Boroff when you come in the fall. # And then all this about Ethel. It really
is curious how under some circumstances people lose all sense of reality or
involvement. I suspect the truth is that she wanted to put off the interview
with her doctor as long as possible, so that she could pressure him to let her
go because all arrangements had been so inexetricably made. #Poor Kenneth, I am
sure the castello will turn out all right, but this is the sort of property K
has never really had to be responsible for before. Nor does he, shall we say,
rough it very easily. Amd so he must, being naturally a perfectionøst, find
a ceaseless change of reapirs that ought to be made. You must go down to see

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

place and hold his hand and Islay's.

Your clippings have been well up to snuff. The pythons are better
for treasure than Laocoon. I liked sticks and carrots as well as Graham Greene's
sensible letter. And everyone has howled as I have passed around the suggestion
that the Goya should be always hung between two Constables. I wonder if now it
has been recovered it will turn out to be a fake. My hunch is that its return
is due to some deal with the insurance people.

People are being awfully tight lipped about the coin robbery. They
now appear to have stolen only the coins most highly negotiable, and to have
left the historic ones. But everyone seems agreed, police and others, though
of course nothing has been printed, that there must be at least one inside line.
Or how could they have known just where to go, and just how to get there, and
just what coins to choose. For the collections are not on public display. So
few people consult the collections, that I should think the list of suspects
could be narrowed down. No one is saying much, but everyone has his eye cocked.

My trip to the bicycle shop yesterday with Justus was a great success.
I met him at Goodrich Street where he was visiting his grandmother, and when
we drove by a student on a bicycle he leaned out to announce he was going to
buy a ten-speed machine. Then he shouted greetings to others and told me he
was talking to everyone. He found one he liked, with only three speeds, an
English Raleigh bought for your sake and Agnes', he had lessons in oiling it,
and then I took him and ghd the bicycle back to his home. It was no sooner
unloaded than every boy in the block was there to admire and try it out. They
all disappeared. Earlier when I asked him what he had done on Memorial Day,
he said simply that he had stayed at home. What did he do there? Think. About
what? About all the soldiers that died during the war. Then he said, you were
in the war weren't you. Yes. But you didn't die. If you had died then I would
have thought about you. But since you didn't die I didn't think about you.

I think of you, however, even though you are still alive; and send

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

3 June 1965

Dearest Fido,

Your letter of the 1st arrived in the late afternoon mail, with its latest bulletin from Ethel. I really wonder that you manage to survive without gobbling bushels of tranquilizers. But I think you will go after all, and enjoy it too. For there is no doubt but that Ethel's plan is so to corner the doctor that he must let her sail for your sake. She also fears for herself and like most of us doesn't want to know the truth. I except a few: I think you do want to know the truth, and I hope I do. Would it be possible in a pinch to persuade Hilda Quick to quest with you? She seems like a good sort.

At any rate I risk this brief letter to you at Sesame, so that I won't wail for you once you reach Ethel. And it doesn't matter if you don't get it, for it contains nothing of great importance. These matters I will save for tomorrow or Saturday when I write c/o Trenoweth.

Am glad you approve of putting in the sprinkling system. Really it is silly to put so much into the planting and then permit it to dry up. And equally silly to be so tied to a tree that once has to keep rushing back from the shore several times a day simply in order to shift the hose. Come the Revolution, they can run champagne through the irrigating system. And what a sparkle that will make for the people.

The sidewalk is done, though the tar paper still covered it this morning. Necessary repair jobs multiply. In order to resurface the driveway, the ivy had to be ripped off the low wall which rimmed it. Doing that we saw that the ivy had forced its way in and ripped the wall itself. So that must be reset. And a back drain for taking off the rainwater had been lined originally only in wood which was no rotting. So that must be bricked. The narrow walk to the incinerator pile is so broken that while doing the driveway it seemed sensible to redo that also.

Having a new tooth seems simple in comparison. And I daresay much cheaper.

I shall inspect it all in a few minutes when I go home for dinner. I shall have to park my car in the street tonight, since the driveway will be soft. We did have one piece of luck. It rained hard all day yesterday and last night. This meant that there were pools of water wherever there were depressions, and so in planning the new slope the men could see just where to build up and just how to slope so that in the future all would run off where it was supposed to go.

The New York Times this morning carried the announcement that Marianne had won the $5,000 award from the Academy of American Poets (the same that Horace was given). I hope she will be pleased. I don't remember whether or not I told you when as a Chancellor of this particular Academy I voted for it.

I hope the sun shines for you and Elsie, and then for Ethel too.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

4 June 1965

Dearest Fido,

I risk one more % Sesame. Yours of the 2nd came this afternoon, and was opened with trembling hands. The mystery of the coih robbery is nowhere nearly so exciting as the trail of the quest. But you are right in going of course even though Ethel has most certainly been trying and even preposterous. The chief mystery for me, at the moment, is not that her doctor should think it wise for her to have an electro cardiograph, but why she should have to wait a week for the result. Or even three days. Every doctor's office this side has a machine for this, the results are immediately linked as a graph and the tape can be read within (conservatively speaking) 45 seconds from the time it ends. And sure not three days' delay, unless the graph is taken to the doctor's office by an inchworm as courier! Anyhow I had not wanted to send off today's mail until I had some better idea where you were.

It has been cold here at night, but this has made for better sleeping for Susan. It is over two weeks now since she has called for me during the night. This is a blessing for both sides. It is hard to think that almost two months have passed since she fell. I hope by two more that things will be easier.

I am fearful about the possibility of making a Swiss safari. As of the beginning of September, my colleague must be first at the English Institute in New York (of which he is president this year), and then flies to Utrecht for an American Studies conference. So I shall have to open the year and welcome the graduate students etc. Your visits from summer guests and relatives and tramps will keep you tied down until well after mid-August, and then one gets in the jamb of returning tourists who crowd the airlines as they do the Roman wall in the north. I do long to see you, wonder a little about seeing Beney since he is so ill, and know how difficult it is for the boys to have guests thrust on them. Alas they are worse off than in Rome where they could go their own way most of the time. Now at the castello the only alternative is send guests off to pick olives. No, of course they would be delighted to have us, but it is hard to pin the visit down to sometime within a particular fortnight. You cannot be away from Kenwin if Valentine is to be there, or any other guests. Probably it is saner to stay at home, and perhaps slip away if I can for a rainy ride down the Erie canal. Why don't you come over for that.

As to Stanhope I think we agreed that 21 dollars seemed high, until one compared it with prices elsewhere and with what one got. The Beekman, if I remember correctly was almost as high and gave awfully little in return.

Certainly I shouldn't leave the Dyce in storage, and I should be happy to take care of it for you. True, the texts are not up to the minute in terms of scholarship but there are few equivalent resources for so broad a spread of texts and one can always go to the edition if one needsto quote in print. However I should think this might be a luxury you could indulge yourself in and so would want at Kenwin so long as you stayed there. I leave to you. I had not known of the hommage to Gertrude. How annoying to be asked on so short a notice. George sent his letters from Sylvia Warner to me; that is why I hoped to add the ones sent him after his shipment here of which she approved.

And why I thought that perhaps one ought to add the books if inscribed to him.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

With the exception of the letters from Vera Sackville-West (which he destroyed) I think he sent me all his choicest correspondences. But they will now be tail-less, thanks to the tidy lawyer.

The check came from the Union, for which my thanks. That will be an ample sufficiency for the moment, and you will remember that I said I would pay myself the differences in salary. I have not yet heard what this will be; maybe there will be none. I spoke to the Librarian, who is off to Utrecht for the summer and until September 15th, and I will give him the check next Monday so that he can set up a university account number before he goes.

Nothing to add about the robbery except of course that they are all so close-mouthed I wouldn't know what was happening. I did discover that the young Classics professor, said to be en route to Michigan, had left the faculty a year ago. And that the watchmen do not check in every two hours but only at 8 a.m. when they go off duty and punch the time clock. When he hadn't done that at 8:10 the campus police called the Library and suggested that an elevator girl be sent to look for him. So much for the vaunted checking of which the Provost boasted last Saturday morning. What seems now indicated is that they took only the coins that were negotiable. Now, will they negotiate?

"My coins...." The librarian moans, and Elsie does about her strawberries. I tell the librarian a library can't have everything.

You, however, can have all I have,

Norman

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

5 June 1965

Dearest Fido,

There was no letter from you in the mail today, so I feel less guilty in writing you so briefly. But there is nothing really to report. I did my household errands this morning and then came to the office where I have been working at my desk. Now in mid-afternoon I am about to go home, change my shirt and go to a picnic in the country. That is I will go to part of the outing but not to the eating. Unfortunately my regular evening job means I have to be home at dinner time in order to take over.

I parked my car in the street for the second time last
night, but this morning the man came and took the blockade away.
The masons come on Monday to repair the wall bordering the driveway.
And I have just called the gardeners to say the levels must be
fixed for the new sidewalks etc. I am certainly learning a lot
about being an Elsie.

Among the letters today was one to Lady Bigham. I am
sorry it has taken so long, but suspect there isn't much that can
be done anyhow. If Sotheby's want the books they will certainly
want the ones I would like to put in his collection.

In going over the newest TLS that arrived this morning
I found the note of Sotheby's sale on the 14th, with some B & F's
coming up. I have no idea what they are, or whether you have them
or want them. But thought if you wanted to encourage young John Maggs
you might phone him and ask what he thought. It will be interesting
to see what the set of Shakespeare Folios brings. Naturally this
depends on condition.

It has just been reported in the papers that in Boston there
was a $200,000 robbery of coins and stamps from the apartment of a private
collector away for the long weekend. They query whether there is any
connection with Yale's loss. At any rate, even if no direct connection,
this indicates that there is a market for such things.

Greetings to Elsie, and all love.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

7 June 1965

Dearest Fido,

Well, it <u>has</u> been a day! The temperature must have been 90, and the humidity, I know, was almost 100. Mrs Dingle was in Philadelphia for the graduation of her daughter from college, and had not worked last Friday "because she had to get ready." So I spent the day answering the phone call, taking imperative messages for other instructors, saying no I don't know when their grades will be up, listening to my colleagues say no they wouldn't do things (which only meant I would have to, although as they said they were awfully sorry but really they had made their plans), and trying with one ear to listen to the man who wanted more money and a higher rank, although of course he didn't aspire to anything. And then just now when I found a note that Susan wanted me to get a quart of vanilla ice cream, and I had to go to a party which wouldn't have been over until the store closed, so I made a special trip for the ice cream to leave it in the deep freeze, and then went to the party. But no cars were there, and I hadn't anyhow been able to find the invitation because Mrs Dingle usually leaves such things out for me so that I can be ready, but she didn't have time to make me ready because she needed to be ready herself. So from seeing no cars, I came back to the office to look again for the invitation, didn't find it, and then phoned my hostess and found the party was yesterday. I couldn't have gone yesterday anyhow because that is my day "on duty", and not having to go there I have time for the letter to you I shouldn't otherwise have been able to send. I have parked my car illegally; I expect to find a ticket on it when I go down.

Yesterday was a kind of nature day for me. At the end of the day when Lizzie came to return her mother's car, she had borrowed, she called out that a dead bluejay lay by the clothes' post. Susan and I blamed the idiot neighbor boy, or so he seemed to us, who came from next door two days ago to say goodbye before going into the airforce, and to show a little gun with which he proudly said he had shot a robbin. Anyhow at sundown I went gingerly out, with garbage bag to pick up the whilom bird. It was a blue workman's handkerchief crumbled into a ball.

But this morning at the thee a.m. I waked to think there was someone in the room. But that was foolish. Anyhow I got up turned on the light and there was a bat flying about and around. I closed the door, wondering how he could have gotten in (down the chimney?) since all is screened, so he wouldn't go downstairs to bother Susan, and tried various strategies to persuade the bat that a wider nature offered more scope to his talents. After a half hour, and removing all screens from the windows in the room, and shutting off lights, he seemed to have left. "Do you think he really left?" Susan asks. I can only hope so. But I lost a good bit of sleep and feel it now.

Otherwise Sunday was a warm pleasant day, and no one coming to visit I wheeled Susan for an inspection of the new driveway and sidewalk,

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

and then weeded the driveway garden beds and trimmed the low-growing
shrubbery here and there inside the beds. It actually was an accom-
plishment.

Your two letters, of the 4th and 5th came today, but are at
home in my briefcase since I hadn't expected to write. I am sorry at
the confirmation of Ethel's weakness of the heart, but am glad you will
be able to use the Quest after all. I have a hunch things will turn out
in gala fashion for you. Do give her and Kenneth and Elsie my best, and
Phyllis, and Hilda, and Marjorie, and Miss Dudley. And Nor Nour and
Bryher and St Agnes and all the other islands. And say a prayer to God
to preserve us all.

Everyone is still very much about the coin robbery, but I en-
close the latest public bulletin. I suppose if really they did take several
tbousand coins, five men would be necessary to carry it. But how did they
get out, as well as how did they get in. One slightly piquant note has
been added, privately for me, to the detective story some one will write.
Buttery, the missing curator of coins, actually was kicked out over a
year ago, following a public fight (verbal) with the chairman of classics,
and so the robbery is jokingly called "Buttery's revenge." Actually Mr
Buttery has been back helping them on it, and told a friend of mine that
the job certainly was a professional one. So, to resume, the library
watchman is a coin collector; the ex curator of coins was dismissed, and
possibly revengeful as well as knowledgeable; and the honorary curator
of coins is a New York broker who might just possibly have gotten in over
his head (for the sake of a novel, not of fact).

Susan keeps busily reading. But I brought her a SF called *Space Lords* by Cordwainer Smith. Don't even send it to her, Susan reports; it's too terrible. And, as only rarely, she did finish it herself once I relieved her puritan conscience of the necessity of getting one's money worth.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

8 June 1965

Dearest Fido,

It is pouring rain outside and I do not have either hat or raincoat or rubbers or umbrella. I tell you one thing: never pick up a pin without a head on it. I am a great believer in picking up pins. "See a pin and pick it up, all the day you'll have good luck. See a pin and let it lay, bad luck's with you all the day." But yesterday when I picked the pin up off the sidewalk I saw to my horror it was decapitated. A shiver went through me. I ought of course ritually to have buried it; instead I stuck it in my lapel. And have rued it ever since, although this morning I did remove it. No sooner had I got home last night, after getting the wrong day for the party, than Susan announced that the Japanese professor had arrived at the hotel (where I had engaged a room) and was waiting for me. (I had said specifically by letter that it would be better for him to arrive after dinner in New Haven since I could not dine with him.) Fortunately, Susan's nyrse said she was willing to stay on after dinner, and so dutifully went and took Prof. Otake to Mory's. I had to take him during the day also, so from 10 this morning until 2:30 this afternoon I walked him about in the 90° temperature while he took the usual number of Japanese photographs. Actually I had hardly met the man in Tokyo, and then at conventions, and he is rather too jolly for my taste and the heat. Did I have my unwitting revenge? I took him to the train at what should have been right by my watch. Later I found mine ten minutes slow. Is he still in the station at the end of the afternoon? I simply will not go to see.

And then I had rather a sad letter from my brother today saying he thinks he and his second wife will probably get a friendly divorce. They were to have had their 25th anniversary this July, and his last letter was filled with pleasure at what he had found in Italy last month with what my sister and I had given him. But she has had innumerable psychiatric crackups, likes pills and is an alcoholic, has been in constant analysis for years in between times in institutions. She has been in the southwest for four months and did much better, but was no sooner home than she began to drink again. So it is, the psychiatrists and now he himself feels, either the very large house or him which sets her off. She has been a tremendous strain and drag on him for years, but it will be lonely all the same--one gets so accustomed to things.

Your proper letter of the 5th arrived this morning. With the card from Mary like the one she brought to Susan to hold and look at while Leslie read his Negro tale. And the letter from Pup which has been somewhat countermanded by the effect that we expect to see them on Thursday morning after all.

An account came from the Co-op. Your credit there is now $159.85

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

One's eyes pop a little at the final valuation of the stolen coins. It is alarming, but I doubt that similar robberies are likely for mss. These are actually unique; few of the coins are. One, the Brasher double coin, for example, is valued at 100,000 but how can it be sold. Only 7 are known to be in existence.

And early May yellowback arrived this morning, with nice notes from Gretchen and Silvia Dobson. We might pay a quick visit to both of these, one at a time, on some of your visits. Melitta's letter somehow seemed less energetic than other recent ones. Maybe it has been bad for her to have given up sleeping pills. Although I must say, a steady diet of them over the years since Walter's death sounds like more than just a habit. I thought Rosemary Sutcliffe's letter rather nice, and gay as she reported what must be an intolerable situation with housekeepers. I was glad to see Lady Bigham's original letter. I think I told you I had written her. I'm glad they carried out George's wish to be cremated and his ashes scattered at Marvels. And I was interested to read Lethbridge's letter about Belinda. I think my only comment would be that he may be Utopian in thinking that Belinda can support herself so as not to use the trust funds. I expect that ultimately he will have to accept what I now have with Lizzie, i.e. that she will never really work, but will always be the single lady with the separate establishment. She cannot stand the strain or any regular employment or responsibility. I'm only sorry they all feel that Heydt "ran away". This is Dori of course; I find myself having less than no sympathy for her.

I trust you are having good weather as you read this. Pass my
greetings appropriately. Keep

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

9 June 1965

Dearest Fido,

The end of a very hot day, again a temperature of 90° and a humidity of nearly 100. Tempers of the staff are short, and I should have wilted had I not already been in that state when Mrs Dingle indirectly gave me hell for not letting her go early as the dean's secretaries downstairs were. I think they should send out signals, that as of so many toots of the whistle such and such categories are to be released.

The day began at 5 a m when I woke to hear a rustle like that of the bat, although there was no flight to certify it. But I got up, took the screens out of the windows, then shut the door into the hall with me outside to wait. I stood there and heard a little cry from Susan downstairs, "it's the back." Sympathetic I went down to help her on her side. I was even more sympathetic when I found that what she had actually said was, "it's the bat." Poor girl, he had been flying around for a half hour with herself helpless in bed and afraid to turn on the light to see to phone me, lest he swirl around the light at her headboard and catch in her hair. I must say, in her situation I should have been weeping. In a minute round and round he went. So I shut the doors into the living room and the hall, shutting her up, and then from the terrace (skimpy! clad tho I was) I opened the French doors on to the terrace. And waited. And prayed, and watched as he swished and swirled, while Susan kept her head under the sheet. Finally, out of the kindness of god, and perhaps because the bat was hungry it darted out through the doors and into the early morning skim-light. But! Is this the one I thought I had gotten rid of early Monday morning? Is it the one I heard upstairs, who slipped out as I got out of bed? Do we have a battery of them? (Is that the right word?) I must say I face the dark with trepidation.

The morning was spent, three hours without getting up from it, in the dentist's chair. I must say I was exhausted as he drilled and chiseled and made ready for more caps to my filthy fangs.

And then after lunch I saw a man who had asked me to check a fragment of a Hawthorne letter to see if it was genuine. A most important document, and I must say that I succumbed and bought it, though he had brought it to me only because the New York Public Library said it would not consider it unless I gave an affidavit. Alas, it is only a fragment, but it accepts the idea of publishing the Scarlet Letter by itself rather than as part of a book of tales, agrees to the introductory essay, and prefers the Scarlet Letter as title to The Judgment Letter. It is obviously one of the showiest bits that exist, and vital to my edition of the letters. It was more than I should have paid at this moment, but I ate beans for lunch.

Last night I finished reading *Thackeray's Daughter*, Some Recollections of Anne Thackeray Ritchie, compiled by Hester Thackeray Fuller and Violet Aammersley (Dublin 1951). I think this must be the book you

were searching for. I found it fascinating, and was interested in her
marriage (successful, obviously) to a man so much younger. Except for
a brief chapter or two--the book is a small one--almost every word
is excerpted from her memoirs or letters which you have seen. These
extra chapters are about the end of her life, and this presumably would
not have been in her own account. But I should see nothing that could
be used to make Paris into the crib for Queenwood. And I read carefully,
for your sweet sake.

I think of you as about in London at this moment, no probably
already there, and on the point of running toward Cornwall. What fun
it would be to run with you.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

10 June 1965

Dearest Fido,

Last night no bats appeared, but of course the question
still is whether we are caging them or breeding them for orbital
flights. I did cover all exits from the attic in case they have
been coming that way in streams. That is, Susan remembered that a
pigeon cote stupidly built into the eave of the garage over your
bedroom, but boarded in when she bought the house, might have
worn open. I looked, and "It might," though it is too high really
to tell. If so, the bats might have nested inside, and could work
their way directly into the main attic and thence down into my
bedroom and hers (on the ground floor). So I have arranged for
the carpenter to send a boy to crawl in the heat under the ridgepole
and see if there is a bat's nest there (I must say I do not envy him)
and if so we will figure how to cope, and meanwhile re-board the
cote.

I hurried back at noon today to see Pup and John and
Valentine on their way to New York. Pup looked very smart, and they
all seemed unusually relaxed. Their wedding anniversary (the 15th)
comes on the 27th or something like that, and this being one for
crystal I conferred with them on what they would like. They said
old fashioned glasses, since I had suggested Steuben and so I will
order it to be sent. Having given her away at the wedding, I rather
feel I must not ignore the anniversary, especially since I cannot go
to their party. They move to the shore this weekend. I had not realized
that Pup and Elizabeth and the two younger boys were to go to England
first and then John and Valentine join them after the first week in July.
Valentine apparently is much wedded to New York and doesn't want to go
to Southampton this weekend.

Otherwise I have spent the day wallowing in xerox copies of
letters from Hemingway to Harvey Breit (who used to work for the New York
Times). Long and chatty. And full of dirt. But interestingly to me,
Hemingway comes out better than I thought. Is really kind and thoughtful,
has rages against people but usually with some justice, has his little
posturing as a keen baseball player, boxer, fisherman, gambler, shot, bull-
fighter; using the highly in-jargon of each; but gleeful about it all like
my grandson pretending things. Apparently he didn't like Aldington's
book on Lawrence and was anxious to crack him one on the jaw for talking
only about people who were dead. One fascinating letter on Fitzgerald,
much like the portion of a *A Moveable Feast* but somehow better than in
the book because here in the letter it was offhand and spontaneous. I
believe the ex-wife of Breit who received the letters as part of her
settlement would like to give them to Yale. But it is hard to believe
she really wants to give them, since they would be worth 10,000 to 15,000
dollars on the market. I doubt Yale could find anyone to give the necessary

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

funds, and certainly doesn't have the money out of its own resources
for this sort of purchase.

Your letters of the 6th and 7th were in this morning's mail
to delight me, the cupboard having been bare yesterday. You poor child,
with the refilling of your tank. At least I am glad this will be easier
with the smaller tanks of the Quest. # I was much interested in your
comments on the Naipaul book. I had read only the TLS review, which
gave it the snub. I shall certainly read it, but no point in waiting
until it gets into the yale Library for circulation. This will be six
months at the earliest. But I will pick up somewhere, so don't order
for me. # Yours of the 7th was so tightly stuck together from the glue,
that it tore badly as I pried it apart. I was intrigued about the
helicopter in Greenland. I had been told this was the one hope in
terms of landing space. It may let me take a good glimpse of the
ice cap when we go out for the look at Brattahlid when finished. I
have not heard whether it has yet been announced (I mean the restoration)
but presumably they were leaving for Greenland about the 20th of June.
I dine with sker Bruun, the former head of the Greenland Company, next
week Thursday. He is said to be most interesting, about 70, and as
alert as a terrier. # What two splendid letters about Avalaon you sent,
from Mrs Gough and from Jocelyn. These are worth writing a book for.
They were appreciations from the heart; -- one felt that absolutely.
By the way, I was much interested to know there was a slant on Aleister
Crowley in this book on Victor Neuberg by Jean Overton Fuller. This
is the sort of book that is unlikely to be republished on this side, and
I'd like to read it because of Mary Butt. Could you ask your Tunbridge
Wells man to send it. I'll put the sum in your savings account, or at
the Co-op, or exchange by sending a book to the Brig in your name.

I must go back to the final Hemingway letters. The chance
is too good to miss, and I pick up some interesting impressions. I like
him, as I said, better in consequence.

Greetings to all, and love to yourself,

Norman

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

12 June 1965

Dearest Fido,

Last night after dinner Susan let out a cry of glee
from her bed. It was because she discovered the enclosed review
of _Avalon_ from this week's _New Yorker_. And she was right to be
pleased, for it seems to me to be a very good review indeed, just
the sort to please Helen and Jovanovich and even perhaps to see
books. I haven't yet seen what appeared in the Saturday Review,
but this comes the closest to understanding, of those I have read.
I don't think I sent you the appropriate page of the Summer Reading
list from the Times. They chose only a handful of novels, so this
is a distinction for your book too.

I have been working at my desk, though it is too awful
to have to be inside on a pleasant 70-ish day. But I miss my usual
Sundays at the office now that I am on duty, and so must make the
most of what time I have. This being graduation time, the weekdays
are filled with petty duties. I did however after lunch drive to
Johnson's Point, to pick up a couple of summer shirts and especially
a chrome box, mildly heated, which Susan uses to keep things dry and
wanted for the town. We will keep the shore available, but I doubt
that we are able to move down this summer. we shall see. If Susan
is allowed to do more than she will have to be ferried more, and one
won't blame her for fluttering her wings as soon as she is permitted
to. For this reason I simply don't see any prolonged absence at the
end of the summer; if I am able to go anywhere at all it will be for
a week perhaps in mid-July before she has changed her privileges.

In writing you about my reading on Lady Ritchie, I forgot
to say that the Library also has _From Friend to Friend_ (1920), letters
by her; and _Letters of Anne... Ritchie_ (1924). I presume none of these
would be likely to contain references to Queenwood's predecessor, but
will be happy to look if you want me to.

Two new Kingstons arrived this week for the collection. An
earlier edition of _The Trapper's Son_ than what we had. (You must see the
new one: the frontispiece is of the gray-bearded trapper walking through
the snow with the sulkiest little boy I have ever seen--sheer genius of
representation. "Cheer up, boy," said the Old Trapper, "a few steps
further and we'll get a full view of the fort." My private guess is that
the old trapper was going to turn him over to the wolves at the next
bend of the path.) The other was _The Early Life of Old Jack_ (1859).

I did not write yesterday. In the afternoon was the wedding
of an instructor in English (I was the only professor invited and so felt
I must go), followed by the reception which I left after a bit to go to
the graduate school faculty meeting (during most of which I dozed). By the
time all this was over there was no time left for correspondence. Nor will
there be a letter now from me until Tuesday, since I am at home tomorrow
and on Monday go for the day to Washington. Although there was no letter

2

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

you yesterday, there was one from Zurich today. I thank you, for I know
how rushed you must have been. I envy you the lunch at the Kronenhalle.
I never know what to order: their superb trout, or their always excellent
specialty of the day. As for Belinda, no you must not take her under your
wing. Joan is quite a different kettle of fish: first there is Ethel,
and one can't quite call Tom that!, and then the very circumstances
are diagnostically different. Belinda's seems to be inherited and a
true insanity which can at best perhaps be controlled. Joan is capable
of pretty complete recovery, and indeed she seems close to having accom-
plished that.

There has been a steady run of yellowbacks, mostly I should
think from your return to Switzerland from here. They seem to take about
a month to six weeks to cross. Longer from England.

(Just to interrupt: one is not critical, but I'm afraid if
I were British I should not be altogether happy about the MBE's to the
Beatles. I'm sure they're bringing cash into England, and they may be
fun for those who like them (I myself am simply bewildered by their
appeal). But the good thing about the Honors List is that there are men
like Ronnie Edwards who will work hard and be honest because the Honors
List is a possibility at the end. Cheapen the list even at its lowest
ranks and you cheapen the top. I can honestly only assume that the Labor
Government is trying to laugh the list off.)

Back to yellowbacks: I did want to say what a very fine
letter Clara wrote you. It warmed my heart just to read her gratitude to
you, and she did it in such a way that one knew it to be completely genuine.
She knows too that they owe their lives to you, and not everyone would
have let you know that their financial situation was better now. But you
have picked your beneficiaries with care, and their letters show it. #I
liked Jocelyn's letter about Avalon, and was pleased that he liked it rather
better than I might have expected. But he does have a nice eye and ear for
good prose, # I don't think Leslie and Mary understood it quite so well.
Leslie, I know, felt you ought to have developed certain of the characters
at greater length. Not my own feeling at all, quite the contrary. # I wonder
by the way what Collins will think of the New Yorker review? # Oddly, to my
surprise, I don't think OB quite got the book, although I am sure he liked it.
# Pat I suppose is in England now, or Spain. Do you still plan to try to
see him in Cornwall? #I was much intrigued by Barbara Jordan's letter about
her father. One senses there must have been more, but how difficult for
her life has been. # Tom Lethbridge's letter about Avalon was a good one, but
of course he knows what Avalon is, and has a feel for that kind of feeling.
#Many thanks for the picture of Florence Falla, I shall put it with her
letters about R.A.

Tomorrow I expect we will be busy with weeding. The man
did come--a little old man Susan said--and crawled in under the garage wing
roof, and found the cote had worked a little loose, and found another spot
where he could see light between the garage roof and the house roof, and
so fixed both of those but fortunately found no traces of bats, squirrels,
doves, or termites. So I shall pray that finally the devil (with bat's wings)
flew out of the doors I opened in the study. The little old man also mended
a screen door into the living room that blows open with the puff of a breeze.
So bit by bit we get fixed up. Only the nurse back into the newly reappointed
stone wall and knocked a top stone loose. I'll wait before I fix that again.

Monday I am rather unexpectedly going to Washington, altho
in a frightful rush to leave after the nurse comes and return before Lizzie

3
NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON
231 HGS
YALE UNIVERSITY
NEW HAVEN · CONN

at night. I can bus to La Guardia and shuttle back and forth from there
by plane to Washington. Yesterday afternoon, after the faculty meeting,
I found a wire on my desk: The President and Mrs. Johnson invite you to
the White House Festival of the Arts... etc. I was supposed to reply by
wire, and the invitation came by special delivery this morning. I am
asked as of the Bollingen Prize Committee. I can only imagine that too
many refusals have come in: this is graduation week and people are tied
down by that all over the country; and then some may followed Robert
Lowell's example and refused the invitation (with letters to the press)
because of the Vietnam disapproval. Afterwards 20 other writers signed
a similar protest, saying they had not been invited but would have refused
had they been. This seemed somewhat odd, to say the least. But I don't
know that being asked because of a Committee, I can refuse as though the
Committee refused. And being asked by the White House even to what is
hardly an intimate affair seems to me like a command from the Court to
see the Beatles. Alas I should be there at 10 in the morning and not
leave until 10 at night. But the nurse would not spend the two nights,
or even one (I hardly blame her), and I can find no substitute, since by
now I know what is massaged and how to pour water on the tooth brush.
One does feel a little trapped at times, I must admit, but Susan's spirits
have kept so high that I wouldn't do anything to pull them down. For these
reasons I won't be able to get there until noon and will have to leave in time
to get the 8 p.m. plane back, slipping out of the buffet supper if I can
stay long enough to get a bite. Perhaps it will be a barbacue. Sometimes
I think President Johnson runs the United States as though he thought it
was the biggest damned ranch in all of Texas.

My love to Ethel and Kenneth and Elsie and Hilda Quick, and
think of me sometimes when you paddle.

Susan has just finished the new La Carre book, and was greatly disappointed in it. Shall we post to you as the ultimate authority. It is silly of you to buy, and if you reply while in England it will only be a few weeks after your return that the parcel will be there. We can call it an early birthday present, "unsolicited."

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

15 June 1965

Dearest Fido,

I am little tired today, after my yesterday's rushed trip to Washington. And I must leave in a half hour for Hartford and a meeting of the Mark Twain Memorial trustees. Tomorrow morning will be in the dentist's chair again. There are still three long graduate school papers to do, two of them in and one supposedly to come, before the deadline for grades tomorrow.

So any real letter about the Washington extravaganza must wait. I will write tomorrow but perhaps not abput Washington until Thursday.

All seems to go well with Susan although it was so cold over the weekend, with so much wind to stir the cold, that she could not go out of doors. Nor could she yesterday, now will she be able to today while the thermometer stays in the 60's, and there is no sun. I keep wondering about the weather you are having with the Quest, and hope no pattern is being followed by which our temperatures are blown to you.

There has been no rain either, so on Sunday I did do a bit of watering of plants and grass. Yesterday the nursery men came and began to install the irrigating system which promises to relieve the drudgery and salvage the plants. It is most intricate. I had a demonstration of a part of it this morning.

Your letters of the 10th and 11th were waiting for me this morning. Also the package with the Maggs gift bibliography. Thanks. It looks interesting. Your day in town sounded hectic, and it is only lucky that you were careful enough to book at the Sesame so far ahead. The car didn't matter so much perhaps, but is a nuisance all the same. You have bought so much you will be forced into getting a boat simply to house your British sailing supplies. Certainly no journey to Avalon ever needed so much gear.

I will be interested to see the folios when they arrived and get an estimate as of this side. Useful as comparison, although estimates would differ within the U.K., and vary the difference according to the title.

Ethel is your Doris, but if anything should happen then certainly Petrie would be. Poor Elsie, she is in love with you; -- and is a jealous lover. I suspect a real arrangement would be impossibly confining.

Maggs a good suggestion for evaluating George's books, although I still wonder if this won't spoil it for Sotheby's. Actually I am not sure there is enough sparkle for a Sotheby sale. But one will see. I shall arrange for a copy of Agnes book to go to --no, obviously I mean I will see that copy of Miss Boroff's book goes to Agnes.

And, of dear!, I blush to say I'd like to go to China even with Rita. But of course what a useful cover she keeps under, out of the rain.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

17 June 1965

Dearest Fido,

Each day adds its new confusion. This morning the workmen came early to drill through the outside housewall for another outlet for the irrigation system. The lawns of the house, back and front, look as though moles had been active. But it still does not rain, although it remains cool, and we hope that they will finish their work on the system soon so that we can turn on the faucets and look like Versailles when the fountains play. At the office the day has been filled with old students, graduate and undergraduate, who come to pay their respects or ask questions or favors, or a combination of all. It is pleasant to see them but I have not made much headway with a completed dissertation I have promised to read before it is revised for submission to the American Studies series.

The mail was pleasantly full too. Yours of the 13th and 14th arrived this morning. In the late afternoon mail came yours of the 12th. The matter of any holiday away from home remains doubtful. Yesterday Susan was a little discouraged, and one can't blame her. She is getting tired of the unchanging routine of bath, combing her hair, reading a book, then luncheon, then back to bed, then up, and since it is too cold to go out there is nothing but more of a book, and then another rest, and after that a bourbon on the rocks and dinner and back to bed, and up at nine only to look at more slides. I am afraid if I go away before she has more freedom it will only make what she has seem less. And when she does have more freedom then I ought to help her to take advantage of it by driving her in the car or to the shore. I had asked if she would ask the nurse about carrying on for a week at night, and reminded her twice, but she still says she hasn't. And so I assume that it would distress her if I left. Oh well, I shall have more time at the office and perhaps can get something done, and then in September take her for a week somewhere the hell out of the New Haven.

As to George's books, I am in a pickle. I have had a letter from the auctioneers which is less than helpful. Their "schedule of books" is a marvel: Corridor Bookcase "Miscellaneous collection of fiction and other modern literature: left hand section about 135 volumes." Etc. Or elsewhere "29 vols. various, Jane Austen, D. Garnett, S.D.Warner. etc." So it goes, and with the descriptions "mostly badly damp-stained." I talked with Gallup about this, since he is to go to England next week, and offered to go down the week following. But that is too late to keep them out of the auction, and how is one to know what to bid if one doesn't really know what one is bidding on. But he made a suggestion, that since the auctioneers said that they would strike off the list any offers by me if they were "acceptable in that they come up to the valuations given us by expert opinion," I should make out a list of authors and then say if there were any presentation copies among them I would pay the valuation already given. Since the valuation is presumably for estate purposes, these would not be high. They'll present me the bill and I'll be glad to pay directly, since they will go with the Plank Collection but as my gift. If you want to pay by Pounds and have me pay you in dollars, I'll be glad to shift your money that

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

19 June 1965

Dearest Fido,

The days are so mixed up that I hardly seem to get myself straight in them. People keep dropping in to pay visits at the office. My days begin later because of dishes and watering the plants at home. And I miss the Sundays at the office when I used to put things a little in order. Even Saturdays begin late and are interrupted, as it was this morning.

I went last night to the Washburns (the arctic geologist) for dinner with Eske Brun and his wife. He is, or until recently was, I am not quite sure, Director of the Greenland Company in Denmark, and was this also when Greenland was a colony. He knows Greenland inside and out, and is familiar with almost everyone you and I met, or I met on my second trip. It was great fun to reminisce and listen. He was much interested in the Brattahlid restoration, of which he had not heard-- it had not been announced at least as of three weeks ago when he left-- and this noon when I took the Washburns and the Bruns to Mory's he read and went over all the correspondence. He seemed very pleased at what was happening, and this of course was a consolation. Earlier I took them to the Beinecke Library, where I was able to have the Vinland map brought out for him to see. He was greatly excited especially at the surprisingly full outline of Greenland itself.

Now to get down to what bits of business I can get in before the curfew sounds. I have had the Auchincloss book sent to you, for altho I haven't seen it the reviews seem good. If you don't want to keep it, send it back and I'll add it to the others by him. # I thought you might be interested in the enclosed dirt on de Gaulle and his anti Americanism; I am really sorry it is happening, because it seems more personal than truly national in terms of the French people. And I'm not really sure that he himself is giving them a great deal. But, oh Lord, who is there who could take his place. And I surely hope the American CIA won't think France is the Dominican republic. # When I finally sat down on Friday (the first chance I had) to write to the auctioneers in answer to their not very helpful letter, I realised that even if I had answered it the day before when it arrived, any letter would be awfully chancy since it had to arrive before the catalogue went to press ten days after their letter had been written on the 14th. So drawing a deep breath and chancing that their summary list would have commented on the presence of a great number of inscribed presentation copies I cabled them directions that I would be willing to purchase any inscribed presentation copies at the value set by their appraisers (which should be low for estate purposes) and that I was particularly anxious for inscribed books from Hilda or you or Marianne among a few others. Actually I doubt if there are many, for usually you and Hilda both had me send them direct from the publishers. So far as just books are concerned it is hopeless to bid on them, especially since

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

they say so many are damp and moody, the result of George's dislike of
electricity or heat except from the fireplace. Just for the record, I
wrote also and asked them to send copies of the auction catalogues of
furniture and the like. If you write Lady Bigham you might tell her what
I have done. I have not heard from my letter to her, but I gather it
must have reached her. # A nice note from Marianne was in this morning's
mail thanking for my letter about her prize. She said she was writing you,
or rather had just written you.

Several yellowbacks have come in during the week, and I went through
these earlier in the day, taking out from these and some that I had not
handed over for filing my letters to you. As well as filing a stack of
yours to me. I prefer to file these away myself rather than have Mrs
Dingle do them, and succomb to the temptation to read them. # The Rossler's
letter about Avalon was nice, but one does see how being too Germanic
spoils the approach much as being Calvinistic does. I did enjoy reading
that letter at last. # I have been starved for news from the boys, and so
was particularly pleased to have the two from Kenneth. I think he is simply
fatigued. Castellos are mignonne. I am glad K'ush can keep him company a
bit longer. What has happened to slay? Almost no mention of him. It was
nice of him to speak of our coming together, but I suspect it may be better
even for you to wait until things are more shipshape. # I suppose you will
have seen Dorothy Dudley. How odd that your Weaver's father should know
of the Banfields and NorNour. # Really everything of Edith's does end up
in Texas. It seems so odd somehow, but I hope it will be an Avalon for
her memory. I shall have to take you there for a peek sometime. # Horace's
letter sounded cheerful; I shall try to get down to see him within the next
fortnight. The telephone cost five dollars which was cheap enough. As of
July first, of course, I give him my second thousand of each year. I hope
he does place the DR with Holt or some one like that. Apparently Knopf doesn't
cotton to it. Horace I guess feels that a university press is a little infra
dig for an artist, and I think he may be right for the sort of book I gather
he has written.

They have kept working at the irrigation system for Goodrich Street,
and I believe the plumbers have finished their part of it. Now one must wait
for the electicians who naughtily did not appear on Friday. After that the
landscape people come again, and then the initial display takes place. The
ground for two feet down, where they dug, is nothing but dust. After two
years drought it is a wonder anything lives. The new system should make an
immense difference.

I hope your weather proved better. Your letter of the 15th came today. I feel as though I were with you. No more news about the coin robbery, but I shall send out feelers for gossip this week.

All love as always,

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

21 June 1965

Dearest Fido,

A somewhat frittered day, but at least the pressure is a
little less. Last night I finished reading a last year's dissertation
on Emerson and the City, by a protégé I first had as an undergraduate,
and this morning discussed it with him. That is one thing more off
my desk. Now I have a fragment of a dissertation in progress to read.
Then this afternoon there was a shortish period at the dentist, after
which I read a book called back by the Library. Following which I
filled out a seemingly endless questionnaire sent by the Sociology
Department of the University of Minnesota who are conducting a survey
on departmental chairmen through the country. Now I write you.

After all our cold weather yesterday was hot and tiring.
Sundays are always full these days, and when the morning bath was
over, there were the orchids to be fed (every other week they are
given some mixture one has to fix up) and then relabeling of some
under Susan's expert direction. In the afternoon I potted some
seeds given us by the director of the gardens of the University of
Athens, again under Susan's direction, and followed that by trimming
the rose bushes and weeding those beds. All this took until time
to prepare dinner, and later in the evening we looked at more arctic
slides discarding as though again I was trimming rose bushes. I must
say I was tired at the end of the day.

I find that the woman I had hoped might come so that I
could get away for a week sometime during the summer, no longer works
anyhow. So that is out, and any holiday with it. But do not mention
in a letter, since I suspect Susan would be reluctant to have anyone in
anyhow. Life gets more boring, which is understandable, and her back
becomes tired from three months more or less in bed.

Yours of the 16th arrived this morning, and I could have wept
when I read of your continued bad weather. Alas, this is the curse of
having a boat or leasing one. My brother-in-law keeps one for a couple
of weeks use in August, and more often than not has only the pleasure of
huddling in a rain swept cabin, in harbor. Anglo Saxon medicine is fun
to read about, but one doesn't really need to squat on a bunk to do so.
As for my own reading, I did look over the bibliography that Maggs had given
you, and had not realised that the Taylors were the author of twinkle twinkle
little star. Actually there was some good to it, because it leads me to a
book I ought to check on for possible sources to Hawthorne's boyhood quotes.
It was fun too to learn of their influence on ame Edith. I know you get
the TLS at Kenwin, but thought you might be amused by the enclosed from the
latest issue. You otherwise would not see as in England. I enclose all,
for the taste of the others. But do ask Ethel what a sidesman is. As a
heathen I should not expect you yourself to know.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

22 June 1965

Dearest Fido,

These are hot days. You are getting the rain, and we need it. I do suffer anguish to think of you cooped up and able only to watch Elsie and Ethel play cards, or feed the gulls. But alas, as you have come to learn, this is usually the way a boat turns out unless one is by it for the entire season and can dash out between showers. What you will have to have is something more stable: perhaps a little house on the same island in the Scillies as Hilda Quick. Then you could go to it, and if the rain came you could move around inside or dash out and come back to change. Why don't you let me own one for you, or Hilda, so that no problem of taxation would disturb you. For the house could be on loan to you whenever you wanted it, and I could buy it with that in mind. It sounds absurd but one wonders if there isn't a little sense too.

No mail from you today. Let me try to remember the 14th and my visit to Washington. On Friday I found a wire inviting me, and the formal invitation reached the library the next morning. I was supposed to represent the Bollingen Prize Committee, and so felt I ought to put in an appearance, although I couldn't get anyone to spend the Sunday night with Susan or the Monday night, so I could be there only in the middle. After the nurse arrived at 8:30 Monday, and I had finished the dishes and the orchids, I rushed to the Taft and took the limousine to La Guardia, only to be frightened by a flat tyre which was, nevertheless, repaired in jig time so that I could catch the 11 a m shuttle plane to Washington. The luncheon was give at 12:30 at the National Gallery and I knew that the guests would already have left the White House. But not sure of what the procedure was, and anxious to be checked in properly I took my taxi to the White House, passed by the several guards consulting guest lists and was gravely handed an enormous name plate which was stuck on my breapocket as though it were a bandaid. I was told that lunch was already being held and I went outside to catch a taxi, only to have the car of the Director of the National Gallery drive up, the chauffeur of which was only too happy to take me, along with the name plate of some one who had forgotten it, so I drove in splendor. He was a most talkative driver, proud of the fact that he had driven the Mona Lisa to the National Gallery, and just recently Rembrandt's Titus, and now (at least I hoped so) me.

The lunch was a good one, those at my table already waiting for desert. But the waiters brought me the jellied chicken and the wine and soon I too was ready for desert, along with the President of the Cleveland Symphony, the Atlanta Symphony, a girl reporter from News Week who said she had met me ten years ago, and the daughter of the Director of the Gallery (who I knew slightly anyhow). There was a longish muffled speak by George Kennan, who seemed by the phrases I occasionally heard, to think the arts were a good thing, but it was all so indistinct that no one paid any attention anyhow, and had a good time looking at the guest list to see who had been invited and for what time.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

There were two sets of guests. 150 (including myself) had been invited from 10 a.m. on; 250 more were asked only for 7 p.m. for a reception and then dinner and the evening performance. The earlier list seemed about 50% so-called patrons and 50% reporters to give it good write ups. Everyone seemed to have been invited late and by wire, and indeed the whole thing had been conceived and put together in just two weeks. Why? I suppose a little of several strands. The Congress is about to vote on a bill to support cultural activities throughout the country. This might help, since LBJ is said to be for it. He wants an image of himself as a patron of culture, since the Kennedy's did this so elegantly. He wants an improved image of himself with intellectuals, because of their disapproval of the government's foreign policy. So 18 galleries throughout the country and in Hawaii were given five days notice to insure particular pictures and deliver them to the White House by Saturday, at their own expense. "We don't have any funds for this sort of thing," one president of the board of an Indiana museum moaned, "so I paid for it myself." Blackbear Bosin, an American Indian artist from Tulsa got his command on Friday and had to get his painting Washington by the next day. So he flew it in himself without having time to change into war dress (at least he didn't have it on, and looked very handsome). "I guess they found they didn't have any Indians," he told me, laughing. The evening performance had Duke Ellington's band and The Robert Joffrey Ballet. The manager of the latter came up and spoke to me, as a former student, and said they had had only ten days notice to get the company together again (they had dispersed for a month's holiday). rehearse, build the stage on the White House lawn, etc. One of the leading actors in the dramatic program was also a former student came up. They too had short notice, but since this particular company was in Washington and their performance in the afternoon it really didn't matter.

There was a kind of buzz underneath everything, especially because of Robert Lowell's acceptance of the invitation and then his declining it with a letter to the press. The writers and professors all thought this was fine, and as I wrote you a dozen of them signed a letter supporting his stand, saying they hadn't been invited but if they were they wouldn't go. One who signed the letter did get invited (Dwight MacDonald) and there he was as I entered the State Dining Room after lunch for the recital by the Louisville Symphony. He rushed up to me (I have known him for many years) with a statement for me to sign. This was to be given to the President and read, that my acceptance of the President's invitation to the White House and my attendance was in no way to be construed as a repudiation of Robert Lowell. "MY GOD!, Dwig ht," it said, "it would be ostentatious for me to assume that anyone did think I was repudiating Lowell, and being here as his guest I will not sign it." According to the New York Times only four did sign it, which was the number who had signed it by lunch time. Several newspaper reporters heard me refuse, and so my later afternoon was spent in being interviewed about it. But the artists and intellectuals were in a dizzy tizzy. Alexander Calder let his mobile be shown but wouldn't go. John Hersey, invited to read his works as Lowell had been, would not sign the petition of fourteen and went. But what did he read

3

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

at the morning session which I could not get to in time? A selection
from Hiroshima, and then something about the effect of atom bombs, and
then gave a little speech about not approving of war or bombing. I must
say I think Lowell did better in not going at all. Mark Van Doren as
master of literary ceremonies made a little speech about what a good guy
Lowell was and how much we all admired him. But why bring the matter
up? And Phyllis McGinley, that housewifely Ogden Nash who stands for
the verities of the kitchen read (why should she have been asked?) a
Phi Beta Kappa poem given at Columbia to which she added a dozen final
lines about Lowell. They say that Mrs Johnson squirmed in the front
row, and the President at the evening reception gave his little speech
saying the arts are a darned good thing, shook three hands in obvious
disinterest and then retired.

But Mrs Johnson herself stuck it out from reveille until taps.
The programs during the day shuttled back and forth between the East Room
and the State Dining Room, the two large ones -- large enough that is for
150 but not for 400, which is why the group was broken until night when
all 400 could have dinner on the lawn and sit before the outside stage
for ballet and band. Literature was in the East Room in the morning.
After lunch, the symphony and Roberta Peters were in the Dining Room.
Then Mrs Johnson got up and like a nice hostess at a small party, asked
if people wouldn't go to the East Room for the selections from the drama.
That finished, with elen Hayes as mistress of ceremonies, as Marian
Anderson had been for the music, she moved everyone back to the Dining
Room for the selections of American films. The narrator there was Charlton
Heston, an actor of whom I have never heard, although MacDonald was properly
shocked. But when he said certain films were as American as apple pie, I
hoped he was a better actor than critic. MacDonald who was there to review
the films for *Esquire* (which presumably is why his presence was not to be
viewed by LBJ as a repudiation of Lowell) was as furious as a little boy,
saying over and over to me that he had not been consulted as to the choice of
films. I tried to console him by saying this was in order to permit him
a dispassionate comment as critic, but he would not be consoled. After the
film snippets had been shown (they were mostly of Westerns) (because of Texas,
I guess) we went out into the hall again, and Mrs Johnson came up to speak
to me in a very easy and gracious way, not saying anything but doing it well
as a hostess should. And then because I thought she wanted to speak to as
many as possible I introduced MacDonald to her, identifying him as the film
critic. To my astonishment Dwight's first words were!" No one consulted me
about the choice of films!" Poor First Lady, she didn't know what it was all
about or what to say, but Dwight had made his complaint at court, I guess,
and so he was happy. It was all a little like the echoes of Lowell.

I don't imagine the day proved a thing, but all of the tensions
and discussions of the relative status of guests (a m or only p m), or
disavowers or non repudiators, all made for a kind of exhilarating electricity
and a cultural moment as spectacular as the great red carpet that stretched
from the National gallery to the buses a hundred yards off. Marines in white
gloves were everywhere. People must have picked up innumerable match boxes
marked "The President's House" as souvenirs. (I did.) And I must say that it
was an incomparable chance for me to see the White House, since after the

4

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

films were shown there was an hour and a half before the reception began. All the rooms on the first two floors were open, and one could wander in them as in a private home. I had not seen them since we took the children during the war, and normally only a few rooms are shown. This was all Mrs Kennedy's redecoration, and I must say the effect is stunning. I spent some time looking at the paintings which hung in the corridors on the side entrance to the ground floor, and the sculpture which was displayed in one of the gardens. (It all had to come down the next day, because the President's daughter was having a dance, and they didn't want any art getting in the way of the frug.) There was an exhibition of camera prints with the inevitable portrait of Marianne with her cocked hat. And there were reporters to ask one what my opinion was of this and that. And a senator or two to whom one was introduced. And a patron or two who intruded himself. And then there was that astonishing number of people who always come up wherever I go and say they were once in my classes at Yale, or worked for me in the war, or met me in Sendai or South Boston. And naturally I find that fun.

The ones I really knew however I didn't have time to see, for they began to appear at the reception at seven and a little after just as I had to go. These were the painters and writers, the creators rather than the patrons, and they didn't seem to mind really being seven o'clockers although they wondered at the big name plate I wore to advertise my early bird nature. I had one drink, ate one shrimp on a toothpick and one little sausage in a roll, and then had to run for a taxi before the President appeared and before the dinner (I never did get any at all anywhere), and I was sorry not to have been able to stay. But a little after eleven I was at Goodrich Street again in time to put Susan to bed.

And now I must go back for dinner.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

23 June 1965

Dearest Fido,

The early morning was spent at the dentist. Then I made
a pilgrimage to the bank for money. Then I went to get the forms for
renewing my passport which expires at the beginning of July (I like
to keep it ready for an emergency). Then I prepared to meet the visiting
professor of history in the summer program who was invited by me yesterday
before I remembered I was taking care of the Connecticut Academy officers.
He was to come at noon. At 11:45 the phone rang and a nice Japanese voice
said we are here now at the station. I had forgotten I had asked the
young Japanese dramatist and his wife up from New York so they could meet
Susan and "have been invited to our home" and then afterwards to lunch.
So the visiting professor went off on his own, and he agreed to take a
chance tomorrow for lunch. I have just phoned him to say I had forgotten
I had an appointment with the dentist at 12.

The Japanese left at 4:30, after I had taken them to luncheon
at the Captain's Walk in Guildford, a sure bet for Japanese who always like
broiled lobster.

Now I have had time for little more than to read your three
letters of the 17th, 18th and 19th which were in the late afternoon mail.
At least you will have been at the Scillies. St Mary's sounds dreadful,
but you always described it this way to me as in summer. You forget
how you have always been whisked off to Doris before. Now you are trippers
too. I think I'd better get you that house on an off island for you. What
a stormy passage you had over. I hope the return was better. Elsie will
have lost all desire for the sea along with everything else she heaved. But
I do sympathise with her and with Ethel. Mal de mer is no fun for anyone.

Let me know at once if no copy reached Jack or anyone else. Before
they have always sent individual invoices. This time they did not for copies
sent in your name. Only those sent in mine which were billed separately. I
have not had the bill yet for yours. Perhaps deducted from initial royalties.
There may be others missing. But on second thought (I must check tomorrow)
I rather think you specifically excluded him as being politically unsuitable
for it. I am pretty sure, but will check.

How marvelous that C atha has passed. It is a feather for you
that you encouraged and enabled her to get this insurance for life. It will
make all the difference.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

25 June 1965

Dearest Fido,

I think I perhaps just dare send this to the Sesame, and perhaps
tomorrow also. But of course there will be no chance to write on Sunday, and
after that I had better think of you as safely back at Kenwin where it doesn't
matter if it howls outside. What absolutely unbelievable weather the gods
have given you, -- and you a woman of fine habits who has been regular in
her offerings at the proper seasons. I wonder if there is good sailing
weather in Avalon?

Your letter of the 23rd rather wonderfully was in this morning's mail. Could it have been wrongly dated, or has British postal service become as intensely good as British weather is intensely bad! At any rate I thank you for it, there being nothing from you in yesterday's mail. Nor did I myself write, being variously involved. I remember from earlier letters about Collins' ms of Hilda's Sappho. I can't imagine what he means by saying she gave it to him with copyright. Saying that he could print it without fee isn't at all the same thing. But I will write him and also ask if perhaps he has letters from her. They might well be more literary in nature than most of hers are. I wonder what Ethel and then you thought of the new spy book, come in out of the cold. Susan was much disappointed in it, and thought it infinitely inferior to the earlier one or ones. I am much interested in the way that Ethel concealed her heart illness for a couple of years. Partly I am sure this was out of fright and fatalism, but also partly because so many people simply do not understand preventative medicine in the way that Prutting has taught you to appreciate its value. Gotten at early, the whole present situation might well have been turned aside. I wonder if the thing to do now is not to get Petrie into a conspiracy by which Ethel is invited to London to see Petrie (when she is over) and then get Petrie to take her to the right one. Possibly Petrie could do this in a way you could not.

We were much distressed Wednesday evening to have a phone call
saying that Mrs Bennett had had a serious stroke that day and was now in the
Yale New Haven Hospital. As of the last news this morning she is still
"sleeping" as they call it, and the doctors say one can only wait and see. It
appears that she had had two earlier strokes within the past very few weeks,
but would not admit them. This time she had a severe fall and was out when
they found her. This is all very hard on Susan, who is her namesake and favorite,
but at least it is some consolation that her mother would not recognize her if
she were able to go. And the other three sisters are certainly able to cope.
Still, ... it is one more thing. I should not think the prognosis a very
comforting one.

Susan herself was given permission yesterday to turn on her side
at night by herself, so long as she keeps a pillow between her knees to keep
her hip up. This of course was a great joy, and she beamed this morning having
used the new privilege twice during the night.

The automatic sprinkling system is now installed, and the trenches
filled in, and a sort of Versailles effect apparent as one set of spray takes

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

over from another in a course that runs from one length of the lawns to another. Both Susan and I had assumed that the estimate included installation, but it didn't and we now realise that the landscape man never said it would. He only omitted to say it wouldn't include an impressive bill from the plumber and another (to come) from the electrician which will come close to doubling the cost. Still, it will make life easier by a great deal, and make Susan happy by providing a green sward for her green thumb, and keep me from feeling a sense of guilt whenever I hear the dying moan of a yellowing blade of grass.

Today I am busy reading the galley sheets of a book on Mark Twain and his daughter Susy, written by one of the busy dames at Hartford and published by Harper's. My friend called me yesterday from New York where had gone with proof, and they wanted something from me for the dustwrapper, everything to be in on Monday. "Can't you write the dustwrapper a short story for the book?" Mrs Salsbunny asked. But I thought that was a little too much even to ask of me. So the galley sheets are spread out, and I have taken a respite between chapters to write you.

One earlier British small envelope came in as well as a yellowback. I was interested that Harold spoke of pleasure in being linked with Hilda publicly. I suspect he may not always have understood how really distinguished she was. # Reading Dorothy Richards' letter I can't help but think that a somewhat more conservative treatment such as Susan is getting might not have made things easier now with her hip. One can get back to mountains too soon. #A nice letter from Romaine. I will write her. Sent her a copy of the latest Library Bulletin with a picture of her painting of Carl Van Vechten in it. Natalie Barney presented it to Carl who gave it to Yale. #I was pleased of course to read Sarasin's letter. #Goughs I take it are pleased by the honor of the reappointment. A vindication in the face of their rival. # Melitta always keeps me completely bewildered. I always expect that her house is finished, and then it sounds as though they had just begun. It is really a pity she cannot find herself. # Perhaps some time we might drive to Princeton and see Sylvia's memorial room there. I have not been in Princeton for nearly forty years. # Glad to see from Maggs that they are willing to ship the Oxford Dictionary. Odd that Francis doesn't hand over the folios. I should think he'd want them out of the way.

I go to New York Tuesday for the publication party for a book by a former student of mine, Tom Wolfe, in the graduate school. He got his doctorate in American Studies and he has always kept in touch. He writes in a hip style which is probably today's version of Mencken. Is a newspaper reporter, article writer, and the rage of half of America and the enemy of the other. He wears bright striped suits and a semi beatle bob.

Last night we had the next door neighbors in, 10 months after they arrived. Tonight we return to sorting Greenland photos. Tray by tray things are put in order, but my what a stack of trays. All will be ready to show you or Elsie when you come.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

26 June 1965

Dearest Fido,

I pondered about sending this to the Sesame, and then I thought No, because there really isn't very much time to risk in the London post offices, and I want to have something at Kenwin to greet you on your return. Sunday is my no-letter day, although I salute you with every weed I pluck from a garden bed.

The day had its morning pretty well plucked too. At 4 a.m. Susan called for aspirin to blanket a bad toothache, and she suffered with it pretty much until a quarter to noon when the dentist came to the house (very kindly too, especially on a Saturday mooning, and found an infection of a root which he hopes somehow to stall along until that judgment day when she can go the dentist again. How trapped she must feel, for I took had a jagged edge from the work he is doing, and when I found him in of a Saturday I drove down and had him grind it smooth. Breakfast and the dishes and the flowers had marketing added to them, and once these were accomplished I found Susan really wanted me to be there when the dentist came, so as to cope with whatever emerged. So I stayed. And put away the washing, and picked up my room, and made my bed and so made use of the time though not at the office. Just ten minutes before the dentist arrived, Susan's two sisters -- Dorothy and Jane -- came after a visit to the hospital. Mrs Bennett is now on the danger list, consciousness still not regained, and her temperature at 101.6 and higher. I fear it will not be much longer now. Only one private nurse could be gotten for her, although she is in a semi-ward with nearly intensive care for all. Their idea was that Susan would give up her nurse who could look after their mother. It sounded good to them, and they offered to take care of Susan! Mrs Eurich of course had been Mrs Bennett's nurse for two winters in Florida. But it was highly awkward for Susan who is helpless, and awkward for Mrs Eurich who as a practical nurse is treated in a hospital as though she were scum and so I was very glad for the toothache and the arrival of the dentist, and his efforts to find someone for the hospital, and the fact that they had to leave for the shore before waiting for his treatment to be finished. One couldn't really be annoyed, because they were trying to help. But since each one had visited Susan only once, and then for ten minutes, to judge from the occasion I was there, I don't think they quite understood how much help she needs. And one can't quite expect them to feel as dispassionately as I do that there really isn't anything much that can be done for a body that has already gone to sleep before the long night comes.

There was a little mail to welcome me when I got in after lunch at Mory's. Yours of Midsummer's Day, the 21st, which had taken a bit longer than others I had received. But I was glad that you had at least one good day on the Scillies, and that there were corners of St.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

Mary's that hadn't changed. Maybe it really would make sense for me to buy a small house on one of the off islands so that you could use it without risking your status.

Harry's story of his son is a cautionary tale.

I had not seen any letter from Islay for some time. Both he and Kenneth seem somewhat subdued. Certainly I think they are fatigued, and of course do not have any equivalent of Anticoli to fly to for a change. I think unquestionably, Kenneth will need to have some Roman pied a terre. But I hope he doesn't tackle this until La Vagnola is subdued.

I am much intrigued by a notice from the New York Customs House notifying me of a single package from Maggs which is apparently subject to duty and about which I am to confer at the local New Haven customs house. I have really not had anything stopped in this way since the great mail sack's came filled with boys' books from Maggs. I daresay all can be ironed out.

But I am likely to be in warm water again with the purchases from George's library. I had a long narrative this morning from the auction company, thanking me for my wire and letter and saying they had conferred with Sotheby's who had agreed. "We have been through the books and have set aside for you all we can find within your definition and we have also included in your consignment, on the advice of Sotheby's, a number of other books which although strictly outside your definition, are those which it is felt you will wish to have; for example, it seemed a pity to break the collection of George Moore and shall therefore be sending you all 42 volumes; similarly a number of books are not author inscribed but have correspondence from the author or other examples of the author's hand-writing." Altogether the number comes to about 100 volumes, and should make quite a respectable group. More than I had reckoned on, but fortunately the price is not excessive. I will take care of that early next week. Three pictures and "some 300 better quality books are going to Sothebys and will be sold over the next six months when appropriate sales occur." They will send on catalogues for this as well as for the furniture and effects. Is there anything among the latter you would like me to get for you? I wonder if there is anything Ady particularly wants. I might write and ask her.

I did write Collins today. So that is done. I hope the rest of your trip went well, and that both you and Elsie enjoyed London. With Mrs Bennett's death likely, any chance of any trip for me becomes more and more remote. I truly am sorry for Susan to have a death added to tooth back and hip.

2 [1965?] June 26

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

28 June 1965

Dearest Fido,

Mrs Bennett died early Sunday morning (not Saturday as the paper had it). The phone rang at 4: a m, I naturally thought it was Susan and she wondered why I had called her. It was to say that the end had come at 4:30. Molly, the English sister, having been told on Saturday that the illness was desperate is already here. The funeral is tomorrow afternoon. Susan will not be able to go, since she is not allowed in a car. I could arrange for an ambulance to take her, but she thinks (sensibly) that this is a little over-dramatic as well as vastly uncomfortable, and would distract others. Since I could not go to my own mother's, this evens. Not that even-ing matters; like yourself neither of us is much for compulsory ceremony. I had thought to stay at home with her during the ceremony, but she prefers I go to make a hyphen for Lizzie and Susan.

Three of the sisters and the two living husbands came to the house yesterday morning and made plans. I have arranged for the undertaker and the church, having done rather more funerals than anyone else seems to; fortunately however I needed only arrange for the others actually to go to the undertakers yesterday afternoon to make choices. That is what I loathe doing, with all its accompanying hypocrisy and smugness on the part of undertakers. Give me plain pine and a brisk fire!

Susan has taken it well, though last night she preferred to take two sleeping pills rather than to lie awake thinking. So have the others, and so they should. Mrs Bennett always wanted to die in her sleep and this is really what happened. Still there will be a lacuna. She was a matriarch and ruled the clan. In discussing with the minister over the phone what scriptures to read, I asked if there were any psalms about tribes. Susan giggled and said I was naughty. I was really fond of her mother. She was a striking woman, with great powers of affection and an immense loyalty to those who wore her tarten.

Yesterday, as you will understand, went mostly to telephone messages and arrangements. A good deal of this morning was similarly occupied. Tomorrow will be hopeless and exhausting. (I have phoned New York this morning and called all appointments for tomorrow off). I become desperately behind in my commitments and sometimes want to whimper a little. But all will be eventually well, I am sure. It will be interesting to know what the doctor says later this week.

Two letters from you were in the morning's mail. That of the 20th from Scilly and of the 22nd from Malpas. It must have been rather hard on you to pay the visit to Tremelethen, but at least I am glad all was in order and tidy. Tell me about Pamela, post Marriage. Doris's letters used to keep you (and therefore me) in such communication about her goings and comings and her doubts and hopes that I wonder how things have gone with

her. # It is wonderful to think that Ethel may consider seeing a
London specialist. If she actually does, then your trip will have
been worthwhile. Petrie helps but so does your encouragement. # I
was pleased to know you had seen Miss Dudley and hope you will return
my greetings to her. The little museum at St. Mary's interests me
very much. I hope some day they will have a nice little building of
their own in which they can show things to intelligent trippers.

We have had a couple of days of pleasantly cool breezes and
sleepable nights. Now the trend seems to be back to heat again. We
are glad for our sprinkling system, though there are a few crotchets
still to be rid of. The man came this morning and was making adjust-
ments.

Even though you and Elsie are still in London I think of you
as in Kenwin. So you will be when you read this letter.

All be always

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

30 June 1965

Dearest Fido,

Mrs Bennett's funeral was yesterday afternoon. Now
there is only the aftermath, for Susan and her sisters.

Everything seemed to go smoothly. The middle aisles
and some of the side aisles of Center Church (on the Green) were
filled with her friends and some who came because of friendship for
the sisters. The minister, at my suggestion and the request of the
daughters, gave no eulogy but instead read selections from the Bible,
including some that Mrs Bennett particularly liked. A grandson
played the organ, and between the selections from Bach gave a little
group of favorite hymns (at Susan's suggestion) especially "Now the
Day is Over" with which they had ended their family Sunday night
hymn singing. The ceremony at the cemetary was brief and non-barbaric.
The coffin was left to be lowered after the family had departed. There
was a luncheon at the Lawn Club for 43, so that people from the shore
could drive in and go to the church together in the limousines. After
the cemetary, 37 people came to our house so that Susan could share a
little, not in the grief but in the assembly of the clan. It was a
clan feeling. Just before the minister walked down the aisle, 11 of her
grandsons marched down together into the two front pews. At the end
the 11 carried and escorted the coffin down the aisle and out of the
church. It was very moving.

The 37 guests were rather more than had been reckoned on,
and the preparations were rather haphazard, I fear. We kept running out
of ginger ale or cranberry juice or ine, and emergency runners had to be
despatched to replenish the stock. But people seemed glad to be there,
and it did give Susan the planned-for chance of being included. So it
was worth it, even though we were both a little tired after it was over,
and I not the least so after washing and wiping all the glasses and dishes.

And, oh!, what a morning preceded the funeral. I woke up
to discover that my lower lip was swollen like a twisted sausage, so immense
that it was gross, especially because it was twisted with one part curled
over and pulled down and then swung up again. Like a monster's. Even
Susan was frightened when she saw it, as I had been when I looked in the
mirror and could not shave because of my fear. Nor could I drink coffee
or orange juice because I could not pour either in me without spilling
down these puffed sluiceways. Scrambled egg I could push in over the
lower teeth. The doctor came at 8:30 and prescribed anti-hystomine. But
the drugstore did not open until 9, and when I went to start Susan's car
(mine being at the garage) the battery was dead from not having been driven
(as of course I should have). I got the Autobile Association to send
the truck to start it. After a half hour they came and got it going. I
went to the drugstore for my prescription, went four blocks further and
the car stalled again and would not start. I waited for a man to make

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 H G S

a ten-minute phone call from a public booth, and called the A.A. again.
Again I waited a half hour before re-calling. "The car is on its way;
it had another job first." In ten minutes it finally came, and I
started off again towards the garage. Once there they said they could
do nothing for twenty minutes. But it was now 11:10 and I had to go to
the office for a check for the clergyman, do some shopping for the party,
get shaved and redressed and be at the Lawn Club by noon. So having
no car at all, now, I phoned for a cab, had it stop at the Graduate
School and wait, then go to the market, and then take me home. Where
I shaved, and changed, and helped to fix the table, and then swallowed
a tranquiliser and phoned for a cab to take me to lunch.

After the last guests had left and I had finished the dishes
by 5:00 p.m., I went upstairs and lay down and took a nap. I hope I
deserved it.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

2 July 1965

Dearest Fido,

The days have a certain consistency in that I get little or nothing accomplished. Yesterday morning scheduled for nine sharp I had an appointment at the post office warehouse (remote) with a custom's official to inspect a bundle from Maggs. The warehouse being far enough off I could not quite finished watering the greenhouse and set blithely off in my car to be on time. I was even ten minutes early, and watched with interest how little the workers work (they were mostly talking baseball and illustrating umpires' signals) and settling with the post office itself their handling fee, a little silly in itself. But I made good friends with the official in charge, and when at 9:20 no one had appeared from the customs house he volunteered to phone and ask why. They had forgotten, and so I waited another quarter hour before the man appeared. He was very nice when he arrived, while the rest watched he unwrapped the various layers in which Maggs had carefully wrapped the books, peeling it down as one would an onion or one of those boxes within boxes which contains a child's surprise. I was in fact a little surprised myself, because in the end this was not the folios but the volumes of drama, each again wrapped and solemnly unwrapped while the workers admired a hundred year old book seemed very ancient and wonderful. One Negro who looked like a preacher informed me that he had a late 17th century book about the second coming of Christ. Another asked me if I had any books from the "old country." This I discovered to be Italy, though England seems old to me too. A third said he had a very old book of poetry, printed in 1840: a book of poems by... he turned to the others, "you know, the poet... I forget his name. At last the name came to him and he announced it proudly to me: Kipling. Gravely I told him that the book must indeed be a rarity; and so I think it must. The customs man, a little embarrassed at his lateness finally, and properly, let the books in without duty. I suppose I will have the same interview again when the folios come, since the catch was that Maggs had marked the parcel as valued over $250. And a third time when the hundred books from George's library, for which I sent off the check, arrive. This third time will be more difficult since most of the books are modern. But I shall try as I did for Hilda's books to have them valued low because they are written in and therefore classified as second hand.

All this out of the way at last, I went home, did the greenhouse and then in order to pick up Susan's car from the garage took a cab there and got it just in time to report at the dentist at 11 in order to have the caps fitted. By this time it was past noon and I went to the savings bank to wirthdraw a little for the new bills, deposited it across the street at my checking account, and drove to the Yale parking space. As I got out of the car there I felt for my wallet and found it missing. Back to the bank I went. Fortunately I had left it on the counter when I cashed a check, and it had been turned in by an honest stranger.

At night I went home to find a heartbroken Susan. Yesterday was the 1st, the day her orthopedist returned, and she had hardly slept the night before in anticipation of the new privileges she might have after being for two months tied in bonds and trying to be a patient soldier. Even the physician had said she must call at once, and therefore would not have to wait until the 5th or 6th. She called him and later in the morning when he had returned from the hospital he called her. "What!" he exclaimed, "you haven't put your foot down? I thought you would have made more

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

3 July 1965

Dearest Fido,

Well, the doctor has called and I am at the office for the first time today late in the afternoon. To our surprise he himself appeared on crutches, having broken his leg a fortnight ago. He handled himself, I think, very well. I did not listen in all of the time, but gather that she is now allowed to sit in a regular chair -- a great blessing for her--and to turn legally on her side during the night. She is also permitted to get up and down directly into her wheelchair, without sitting on the edge of the bed. And once the x-ray has been taken (which can be done by a mobile unit coming to the house, rather than going by ambulance) and approved, she may be able to get into a car and driven to the shore. Susan herself, and I think wisely, has decided not to try to move to the shore this summer. But this will permit her, when the time comes, to be with her sisters and help to assort the belongings. The discussion of the other day was not alluded to directly by him, but several implications were now refused. Which is a good thing for morale, oddly, since it makes her past regimen more sensible.

My entire morning was spent doing household errands and going to the shore to search in vain for a stop watch I thought we had. After the doctor had left, or rather before and after, the plumber came to the house to see about replacing the tub in Susan's bathroom for a shower stall. Showers are her delight, and it will be many months before she can step in and out and over the edges of a tub to use the present shower. The wash basin has long been the despair of the plumbers--it is over 35 years old--and so I decided to give her an entirely new bathroom now as a combined Christmas and birthday present. It should be completed before she can make the stairs, and will be out of the way by the time she can use her own bed. It is expensive but I think makes sense. She is delighted, and planning it will give her something to do.

Oddments: a letter has come from brother Volant to whom I sent a few hagiographic postcards from Greece, saying that he is busy as ever with the museum, and for the moment is also having to take his turn as cook for the Oblate Mission. He signs himself now as "votre tous devoué." # Edith's memoirs are, surprisingly, #10 on the non-fiction best seller list, but the competition is deadly. It is just behind *How to be a Jewish Mother*.

Two yellowbacks have come, dating back to early June. Kenneth's letter about Ethel was revealing in the distress he feels about her illness. I think he is now genuinely fond of her. Do thank Elsie for her nice postcard. # I liked Elizabteh S's letter to you very much; I suspect she would be wild with joy sometime to visit Catha and see the horses in the Camargues. #Islay's letter was fun; I like having them relax enough to be able to write. #Ady's letter about George's will was sweet. I am sure you realise how much "family" you are to have them speak of the details of his will. With the older group the details of a will are as top-secret as the details of a Wassermann test. #I am glad you approve of all that Dean and Tom are doing to their farm. You are an excellent judge of what is sensible along that line, and I have in the past been afraid she would emulate her mother's frequent impracticalities. # It is really splendid, as I said before, that Catha has passed her exams. Really a triumph.

2

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

# Joan obviously continues to flourish. #Chester's trip sounds like fun, altho more his cup of tea than mine. However I have had my passport renewed, and so may some day be able to use it for other than an emergency. This year I think there will be no vacation, tho I pick up pins (with heads on them) dil igently as I see them on the sidewalks.

Yours of the 30th arrived today and I picked it up this afternoon. There seem to be fewer mishaps and better weather at the tail end of your holiday, for which I am dutifully glad. You gathered so much in the way of purchases that I am surprised you did not have to charter a freight plane to get you and Elsie back. Odd that you should have seen Doris Leslie.

I don't think I mentioned Neil's letter enclosed in one of yours. With Auden at his elbow I think we can forget the manuscript for the time being.

People continue to pass through. With one exception who didn't come. This was a young Englishman who wrote (the letter came Tuesday, the day of the funeral) saying that he would like to come for the Fourth of July weekend, arriving on Thursday. "I have with me a friend, Judith Thornbury...We will be travelling to Cambridge next week to see friends there, but I expect to have to be around Yale for at least a couple of day's work on the [Hart] Crane material there & we may perhaps feel like staying longer." I simply had to phone him to say that because of Susan's illness we couldn't put him and his mistress up, and that because of the funeral of Jane's grandmother and the presence of her mother at the Point, this wasn't a very good time for the other aunts at the shore, especially with full houses of family over the Fourth. I had tried to phone him Wednesday night but they were out (Colin Falck) I mean, and so I had to phone him at 8:30 the next morning. This got him out of bed and rather miffed him to be wakened. I am afraid he will have a very poor opinion of the hospitality of Americans in not being able to put him and his girl friendup indefinitely at a moment's notice. I gather that all young British university men now travel only with their girls, so the old sexual patterns must be changing. I suppose this is because so many fewer now go to public schools or hope to enter the Navy.

But, _rally_, for God's sake!

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

6 July 1965

Dearest Fido,

I forgot to tell you that because the 4th came on a Sunday, the following day was a public day of rest. That is, for every one except myself since this meant an extra day as replacement for Mrs Eurich. Poor Susan, she had to suffer from an unmade couch (for when I tuck a sheet in there is no guarantee it stays in) and a left-handed bath and meals prepared by paws. And it meant too, for poor Fido, that there was no letter.

Actually by a series of coincidences we had guests for the evening on Saturday, Sunday and Monday, with the visiting summer professor in American Studies with his wife and daughter in at the end of Saturday afternoon. At other times I fed the various plants with their special nourishing brew of fish oil, and weeded in the garden which has become a jungle thanks to the new irrigation.

Monday noon, younger Susan came with her two children for a sandwich lunch and then left them for her fifty-minute hour with the psychiatrist. She is at the other house at the shore for July while Jim lives in town and twice weekly visits his psychiatrist. He is trying to settle something or other before taking a job. What he does all day long I can't fathom. But better not to comment, since it makes no one happy. What a befuddled state he is in!

In beginning again to go over my desk, I found the clipping of the Niemcewicz 1797 diary that I thought might interest you, and which I asked Roysce Smith to send. Did it ever arrive? If not I could make it a birthday present. Otherwise I enclose a clipping of a dog and his hoop which I thought might amuse you and Elsie. And a couple of the new Magna Carta stamps. These should go with the Churchill stamps to show America's feeling for this particular "old country."

Your two letters, of the 2nd and 3rd, were in today's piled-up mail. They were filled with interest. Yes, I knew you liked Mrs Bennett, as I did. And she certainly liked you. Avalon she thought was your best book; at least she liked it best. I think she was thinking. #As for Pamela, your comments confirmed my suspicions. I did like her. I hope her new life won't be too rough on her after the comfort with Doris. Now she will be breeding and taking on an animal's life in what must seem to be a kennel. # Thank Petrie sometime for her help with Ethel. She would think, none of my business, but I feel almost like an old Queenwood girl! #And yes, of course, trips with Phyllis are indicated so long as there are corners of the UK you haven't seen, and she keeps her hose damp like a good dog. #As for the cost of George's books, I had to make the payment so as to have the money arrive before the 6th, though they didn't specify dollars. I had actually asked you whether you would like to pay pounds and have me deposit dollars to your account here, but you didn't answer. So I thought the answer was no. You mustn't blame Ethel for being busy and not always answering questions. Sometimes we all forget. # You have enough manuscripts of Edith's. And of course what this man or woman wants to sell through Maggs is what we call a "fair copy" rather than a true manuscript. A hundred pounds is ridiculously high, even to me who am always justifying high prices. For better to get the sort of Aldington

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

papers you bought as against this sort of thing. I shouldn't even have gone
for George's books had I not wanted to build up his memorial collection into
something more substantial. # I am so very sorry about Islay's mother. Do let
me know if anything sadly happens, so I can write. # Your trip back sounded
like an evacuation. But I hope Kenwin has been Avalon. The wild strawberries
in the garden make it sound so. Or taste so. # Joan has obviously benefitted
from her sessions if she can now understand the conflicts in herself. What
I hope is that she will be able to accept the conflict as a fact which is
operative rather than as something which can serve as a blaming post. # The
news from Catherine about Kershaw is distressing in the extreme. I shuddered
as you did at the story of the tranquilized children. One of the saddest
spectacles in life is that of the almost-artist. Whatever one may say about
the religion of art, I can't feel the rightness of making others suffer
while one makes shoddy prayers to beauty. And I doubt that Kershaw has done
even that. Much better that he should have stuck to journalism. I suspect
his association with Aldington was the nearest he came to talent. With R.A.
out of the way his spirit deflated. R.A. did have a flame that sometimes
flickered up towards the end even if the gas was running low.

AND HOW I LONG TO SEE THE CARBON OF YOUR EPISTLE TO THE HOUSE!
It's rather cheeky not to be willing to commit to paper, and even cheekier
not to say they're sorry they can't take this but do go elsewhere. One doesn't
mind the truth, but one shrinks before the onslaught of "good manners." I'll
warrant they wouldn't have risked the prayer book or the Bible except as a
reprint.

Address your envelope as one has just come addressed to me from Japan.

Dear Professor Norman Holmes Pearson
Graduate School, Yale University, etc.

What a jolt I had today. I rushed to the bank to deposit a Beney-doux
which has just arrived and which should see me nicely through the immediate bills.
(I am always grateful but never more so than at the moment.) I took it to the
savings bank in time to have it begin to draw interest (and then I withdraw from
it as needed). It was considerably larger than ever before. Is there a reason?
Being a simple matter of deposit I took it to the drive-in teller, giving him my
bank book with it. And drove away when the book was returned, to let in the others
in line behind me. When I got back to the parking lot, I glanced at the balance
for the sake of its comforting glow. Instead of a 10,000.00 deposit he had credited
me with an addition 100.10. I drove back with a stern face; he looked through the
pile and found the original I gave him. Poor boy (he wasn't much more than that)
he almost burst into tears. And I had to leave the deposit book so that he could
go to the bank's manager and make confession. I hope they gave him absolution
and me credit.

Norman

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

7 July 1965

Dearest Fido:

BRAVA! Not Avalon but your letter to Collins about it is
your masterpiece. From beginning to end, and there is much in what you
say about being a pioneer down the "brain drain."

Not my eagerness to see your letter is replaced by a similar
eagerness to read their reply. I am glad you sent a copy to Helen. In
her heart she will approve, although her lips may murmur gentilities.

I am most intrigued about your connection with the second
Duke of Argyle. Your ignorance of who he was reminds me of the desperate
time when I was asked by British Counter Espionage what I, for the
American service, intended to do about Ifni. Never having heard of
it, I could only stall by saying it was a problem I hadn't thought
through yet. Later Ifni became the nom de guerre for any territory
I wanted to use as a prototype for operations.

The Times communication from the American who wants a
Jaguar over his petrol tank is as good as a dissertation.

Your second of the 5th also arrived this afternoon with
the earlier letter of the same date. What a pest to have the British
government require a statement on Swiss government. With Labour having
to make these apologies to the Commons, and as I gathered having lost
three seats, perhaps you have only to wait. Naturally I cannot advise
about the nationality. There is something to be said for both Swiss and
American citizenship. I'd like nothing better than to have us national
mates as well as our less tangible links. But it may be that the economic
factors make Swiss citizenship more sensible. Perhaps a silent corporation
or two are indicated; Beney would know. I agree that if Labour keeps in,
some trouble is likely to arise for non-resident nationals. And yet these
retroactive regulations seem absurd. By which I mean, all right as for people
who from now on want to move out. But when one has for decades already
established a residence and way of life, this is another matter.

I shall think of Elsie munching her cornflakes. The grandchildren
used to like them as is, much as one might munch crackers with a drink. Did
I tell you that since Susan's return we have also been using something called
OK, or is K. Rather like cornflakes, and very good. Shredded wheat might
also be a good thing to lay in a small stock of.

It is hard what to say about Collins. I shall be glad to buy the
copy of the Keats which Amy gave Hilda (I'm surprised that Hilda gave it to
him, but she had her little private affaires de coeur), but am not sure that
the presentation copies of her own books are necessary. Between mine and yours
surely we already are well supplied. I still do not know what he means when
he talks about Hilda's giving him the copyright for the Sappho manuscript.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

Giving him permission to publish it is quite different from the copyright which normally, except for a brief span, belongs to the author. This is the right I bought from her and then, for safety's sake, again from you. But no matter. I judge he wants to sell the ms in any event. I would very much like to see the letters, however, and only wish one might add them to the rest. I asked, in writing, if he had any, saying I was her literary executor, planned to do a biography, and owned her copyrights. I said also, to make my interest seem non commercial, that I intended giving the collection of her things to Yale where it would make a permanent memorial to her friendship with him. Alas, I think he still regards me as a professor and thus an outsider who never kissed her. I suppose one possibility may be for you to see them on your next trip and buy them for yourself at a price set by Maggs. The only hitch is that he may be using these as a magnet to get you interested in him, not just for financial reasons but because he is an older man and lonely. Hilda would be Hyphen. The other possibility is for a letter from you, if you wanted to, in which you said that I had been a confidante of Hilda's, and there was little in her life that I did not know. This is an exaggeration of course, though it is probably true that I know as much as Collins does. That he need have no fear of my discretion, and that you had no hesitation in letting me see them. For I am scared about what he intends to do with these in his will. If the letter reached him before he wrote men he might send a different sort of message.

The Shakespeare folios, as I told you, have not arrived. Only the calf dramatists.

We too had a gay letter from the Rotterdam and Pup. She is one of the best letter writers I know.

Thank you for reminding me of the importance of the Beatles to the shopkeepers. I do apologize for my ignorance. I had quite forgotten the B of OBE stood for Beatles!

Gardner has had a murder. Just behind my brother's house in the woods by Crystal Lake, the first in 51 years. There must be great excitement. But my brother's attention is otherwise directed. He and his wife are being sensibly divorced after 25 years; it was a second marriage for both. I think I have told you that for many years she has been an alcoholic and constant patient in psychiatric homes. This spring she was away for 4 1/2 months near her sister in Arizona and all went well. She came back and was drinking in a week. Obviously Gardner, the big house, or my brother do not gee with her. And her psychiatrist and all believe the only answer is a divorce. He sighs with relief; she has led him a hell of a life for years. I believe he is taking the initiative, although she may be allowed to take the action. The settlements have already been agreed on. I am glad, though it will be lonely for him. One gets used even to a wet rag.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

8 July 1965

Dearest Fido,

Just before supper last night, the mobile x-ray unit came to the house and took pictures of Susan's back and hip. So in a day or so the doctor will presumably call and tell her whether or not she can have any additional privileges. I hope she can. It is hard on her simply to sit there and answer letters of condolence about her mother. If only she could get into a car we could take little drives, or go to the shore where she could watch the children swim.

Later in the evening, the Ingholts came and we had an excellent visit from them. I gave them a copy of Avalon as from you. We had not sent on publication, as they were in Denmark. (By the way, you did not speak of your check as to whether Cousin Jack's copy had actually arrived. You asked me to wait until you had. Let me know and I will order one sent to him.) They had little specific to report. Susan's nurse took care of Janet Ingholt's mother for a longish period while she rotted away unconscious. Both seemed in excellent spirits.

This noon I lunched with Roysce Smith, and ordered the two books you wanted sent to you. And the Boroff one to Agnes. I think except for Jack's Avalon this does all commissions for the moment.

Mrs Dingle has left at noon to drive tonight to Portland, Maine for a long weekend. She is well caught up with what she herself can do, and I am glad she could go. Glad too because the office is wonderfully quiet. I simply had her put up a sign closing the office, and I keep the doors shut.

Your undated letter posted on the 6th arrived this afternoon. You are right: the telephone conversation with the doctor was truly traumatic for Susan. Don't worry about George's books. They are being sent by the auctioneer who had arranged with a local company. Far better than shipping to Maggs and then reshipping by them. # Oh Lord I should think it was erring Alistair rather then erring madame who is to blame. But life is difficult enough for everyone without worry about the burden of blame. # Collins, I think, as you do, has illusions. What he most wants is to be in contact with you in the role of Miss Avalon.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

9 July 1965

Dearest Fido,

They came today and installed the air conditioner in Mrs Dingle's office, this being the first day of her vacation. Actually it is installed but not yet connected. However it is cooling even to look at it, and gives one a sense of status. I don't know that the sense of status has added much to my accomplishments. I paid more bills this morning, and wrote a few letters, and began again to read the endless account of the dating of Jonathan Edwards' miscellanies. It will take me several days more, I fear before that task gets done. And tomorrow I am going to see Horace and Marya. I phoned today to make sure it was all right, saying I would arrive after lunch. Lunching with them is endless, as you know, and the preparation puts Marya to endless trouble. She says by the way that Horace will not hear of having a wheelchair, and so my plan to use the rentals on Susan's as part payment on the same one for him won't have to be done. I do sympathize with him; it's a matter of pride. And he needs to keep all the pride he can. Still, I sympathize with Marya too, for the chair would free her from constant hovering.

Saturday afternoon we didn't go out in the car after all, since the television man finally came with the new picture tube. He spent most of the afternoon installing it, and then informed us that the aerial needed fixing. I arranged for that this morning, and this will take another two hundred dollars. But it will be still another thing made shipshape. I only wish they would finish the new bathroom. Everything is in a shambles upstairs while the work drags on.

The doctor also came Saturday afternoon, and now lets Susan put a little weight on her foot. Before she could touch it but not so much as to crush a mosquito. Now she can kill a mosquito with her foot if she does it gently. He wants her heel down too. And he let her walk down the ramp on crutches, and across the grass to the back walk. So on Sunday when we did go to the shore, we could go without the wheelchair. I took a small folding one for her to sit on instead, a much more comfortable arrangement.

Your letters of the 5th and 6th were in the late afternoon mail, with two yellowbacks. So my day was not finally empty. Lady Bigham wrote me much as she wrote you, though I did not know about the 9£ Aldington. That seems high, I must say, but very nice of her to get and nice of you to see she didn't suffer for it. She might be amusing for you to meet some time. I shall want to when I am next in London. I liked the tone of her letter to me very much indeed. The lawyer must be a devil. So like George to think he was making things easy for everyone, and have it turn out otherwise.

It's fine, I agree, for Pup to get abroad every summer,

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

9 November 1965

Dearest Fido,

Having just spoken to you this morning on the phone, there
really is nothing more to communicate by letter. Except, of course, to
welcome you to the Sesame, or at least to have a letter reach you soon
after your arrival.

I did manage to get a good deal dictated yesterday, and
Mrs Sherman is still typing away at it. So much more remains to be
done, however, that the pile of duties is hardly diminished. And there
is the budget to cope with. The difficulty with a chairmanship is that
one hardly begins one year without having simultaneously to plan for
the succeeding.

I finished Phyllis Gossskurth's biography of John Addington
Symonds (THE WOEFUL VICTORIAN) last night. I still think you will be
interested in it, and the American edition is nothing more than imported
British sheets (vide, single quotes for quotations instead of American
double quotes) so you will miss nothing by taking an English edition if
you did not carry the other with you. I found myself skipping at times,
but fascinated otherwise by the revelation of what went on in more than
corners. I wished at the end that more might have been made of his
instigation of Ellis's Sexual Inversion, and indeed almost wished for a
similar study of Ellis himself. But there was more detail about life
(behind doors) at Harrow and Oxford and in country houses and on excursions
abroad than I have seen elsewhere. And much is explained that I had not
been able more than to guess at otherwise. If one were to choose a single
incident at which to smile, it is that of Gosse stealing glances of a
photograph of a male nude, sent him by Symonds, "all through Browning's
funeral service in Westminster Abbey." To which I can only add an exclamation
point editorially. Still, much as I was interested, I can only question the
judgment of the librarian at the London Library in permitting the author to
see and use the Symonds' memoir given the Library under restrictions. The
law may have been observed by letter, but certainly not by spirit.

A telephone call from Dos Passos came last night, he being so
worried about the tax problems of his gifts to the University of Virginia.
I did my best to console him, and indeed cannot see how he can lose. But
now I must write him a letter to show his lawyer.

Do enjoy London, and distribute my effection approppiately
and cuddle my love,

Norman

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

10 November 1965

Dearest Fido,

Tomorrow morning will seem a little empty without your early morning voice over the phone. I only hope that with this morning's coming of dawn you were able to get through the day and to idlewild without too much difficulty. What a wild night you had! Everywhere around us, streets and homes were without electricity, but fortunately our only sense of the calamity came by way of radio and, this morning, by the absence of the New York Times.

The margin slipped, so forgive me if I correct it here. I was sorry that you couldn't meet Auden and see Elizabeth Wolff again, but balance this by the pleasure I know you had in being alone with Helen. I shall be seeing her soon in New York and we can discuss what plans should be laid.

Last night I spent at the office, tidying my desk and writing a few letters, including the one to Dos Passos which went off special delivery to him. And paying a few bills, if for no better reason than lightening my desk by their removal. This morning I stopped by the bank to deposit your check, for which I again send my thanks. It will go towards the best of all causes, that of adding to the Bryher Collection of Dusty Diamonds. Alas, I imagine with all the distractions and confusions of the last days that you couldn't get to the Grolier Club again, but hope that the memory of the first glimpse will stay by you. I shall be going down on Tuesday for overnight and the lecture on the image of the West given in these books. I might add that I find I myself will have to give the dinner party beforehand at Delmonico's, and am not a little annoyed at having this thrust on me. Getting the show together and having to make the first talk seem like contributions enough!

Normally I would not include the monthly Co-op stub, but do so to show that even after your purchases you still have a credit of $149.82, enough to carry you for some time still.

Last night was not all work, for when I got home I at last read Brigit Patmore's first installment of her memoirs. I agree that some one must have helped her with it, but how very dull they are when compared to your own. The one redeeming feature was the extraordinary photograph of the young Eliot. Now it is November and the second installment must be out. If you see a copy of *Homes and Gardens* do buy it and send along the relevant pages once you and Elsie have glanced at it. Presumably all this will eventually be published as a book, but the magazine appearances often have more, or at least different photographs.

Give our love to Elsie, retaining controlling interest for yourself.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

11 November 1965

Dearest Fido,

A dark day and cold. They say it may rain tonight but it
looks rather as though it would snow instead. This being Thursday,
the cook's night out, we will be going to the Lawn Club and I hope we
can return dryshod.

Somehow it seems as though I had not accomplished very
much during the day. I did some letters this morning, and had several
appointments with students. Went to the Library and had some xerox
prints made of letters the National Portrait Gallery, in Washington,
wanted concerning a portrait of Hawthorne they had, painted by Leutze.
And then to the Co-op to order the book you wanted after having read
the review in the *Times*. To simplify matters I simply had it charged
to your account, so do not reckon this as a Christmas gift. I can per-
haps find others. Then to a luncheon to meet a candidate for an
appointment to the faculty, who came down from Harvard. And finally
three afternoon appointments, the last of which is still to come.

The papers are full of the blackout you suffered in New
York. Tempers are roused to think such a thing could occur, and the
indignation is deserved I think. All of the power companies put on
a great air of mystery and ignorance, and I imagine they will continue
to protect themselves in the best of all possible ways.

Last night I read *A Victorian Boyhood* by J.E.Jones, a book
you said you had at Kenwin. Fascinating to read his description of life
at Eton, after Symonds on Harrow. But Jones was captain of the crew and
a big man in the school. I wondered just what he meant when he wrote: "It
would not exist if, as we are told is the case in Canada and the U.S.A., girls
were accessible." I know of course what he meant by "it", but I wondered
how he defined "accessible." Alas, in *refence* to his reading, of Henty he
says "we made the descent unawares." By the bye, who is Jones?

The latter part of the afternoon I spent in hearing about the
new Etruscan tombs excavated some 20 miles from Rome, and splendid in pottery
and gold and ivory. There seem to be complete runs of styles, as well as new
ones, with one dynasty buried on another in a long sequence. People in Rome,
I am told, go about speaking of the dig in the same lowered tones one uses in
a church.

Hope London marches, and you with it.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

14 November 1965

Dearest Fido,

Alas, I don't really dare risk sending this to the Sesame
although I daresay you will stay on in London until midweek. (Your
schedule had you originally leaving on Monday.) I do hope everything
went well during your visit, but worry a little lest you may have ex-
hausted yourself by trying to crowd everything into so short a stay.

Sorry not to have been able to write either on Friday or
Saturday. Friday turned out to be one of those days with unexpected
visitors at the office, and then a long two-hour committee meeting to
bite off the end of the afternoon. Yesterday I had to drive to Worcester,
Massachusetts, to the Fall meeting of the New England College English
Association. I was an early president of this group, and although I am
not able to go very often to their meetings I do try to keep in touch
by going every other year or so. This time I drove up one of the
speakers, an instructor in English, and an interesting young painter
from Australia (Leonard French) who is supposed to be their best, and
who is to have a show of his paintings next spring at the Worcester
Gallery. It was a tiring drive, mostly in rain on the way up and in
pea-soup fog on the return. So I was not home before ten-thirty.

This morning I began moving some of the books back upstairs
from the cellar, where they had gone at the time Susan occupied the study.
Took off the screen doors, before the snow begins. And trimmed the rose
bushes and did some weeding in the beds outside the front of the house.
The weather has been so oddly shifting from cold to warm that I was startled
to find a camelia in blossom just outside the greenhouse, where it had
been planted in a protected spot. In Japan when cherries boom this way,
out of season, they are called "mad cherries." This must be a mad camelia,
but Susan was pleased. It is the first time it has ever been in bloom.

At noon my brother appeared on his way to New York, he was
expected, and so had lunch with us before continuing. It is the first time
he has been at the house in several years, so I gave him another tour and
we had a good chance for a talk. Now that his wife is in Arizona, waiting
for her divorce, he is freer with his time than for many years. The separa-
tion seems to be amicable, which is a good thing for them both.

I thought you might be interested in the enclosed clipping about
Ingholt. I shall look forward to the book when it appears.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

15 November 1965

Dearest Fido,

What a joy it was to have your first two letters from London. They were in this afternoon's mail, and I was happy to know you had arrived safely. What a finale to your New York visit. Everyone is still very mum about just how the breakdown could have happened; but of course is the power companies could appear to pinpoint the weakness quickly, the proper reply would be, "Then why didn't you do something to prevent it?" I heard this noon of Mrs Eliot's attempts to arrive in New York from Boston that Tuesday evening. Finally the train was backed to Stamford where all passengers had to spend the night, from 5:30 until the next morning at 5 a.m. when a taxi took her into town, in a cold station. Just about 4 a.m., a nice foreigner saw four men playing cards with a bottle of whiskey to sustain them. The foreigner turned to Valerie Eliot and asked if she wouldn't like a sip. "Well, rather!" she said, and got one. Her friend who was expecting her at 5:30 p.m. at Grand Central waited out the night in the station for her until 8 the next morning when the two met at the hostess's apartment. Imagine spending the night in a pitch-black Grand Central.

I suspect you are shrewdly right in seeing Ethel take on some of Doris's persona. Stepping into an older sibling's shoes means stepping also into her medicines. Doris was the dominant one, and the mold takes. I suspect too that your relationship with Doris is another kind of mold who to which Ethel would like to fit. After all she really does occupy a little of the same position and both fills and feels the same needs.

Much interested that you should have listened to Wilson's speech on Rhodesia. Here also we are constantly reminded that this is the first declaration since that of the American colonies. But how the wheel has spun, when the States finds themselves forced to abandon independence after this long period of encouraging it. This kickback I rather enjoy, in watching Washington squirm. If only Africa could have gone more slowly.

Billy Collins' peacelike letter seems to have been written with the quills of a dove. But I will be in touch with Helen.

The story of Pup's Elizabeth is delightful. I'm glad they caught her out, but admire her ingenuity. As you said, she is interested in the arts!

I must dash home, change and go to a cocktail party given by the President of the University.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

16 November 1965

Dearest Fido,

This is little more than a handwarmer for your mail. Last night's reception by the President for the new Treasurer of Yale was fortunately brief, and our participation was more to be seen than otherwise. After dinner was spent in reading *Three Lives* again. I find myself still drawn by the freshness of her prose; actually she seems to me to be an even more important innovator in style and diction than Cummings was, but no academics take her seriously. The Malcolm Cowleys and the rest do little more than pass by her with a nod of recognition. I long for the days of freedom when I can really write about her.

Today after seminar I hurry to the train for New York to dress for the second of the Grolier Club meetings for the show. I forgot to say how pleased I was you could return to it again. As I wrpte, I find myself having to give the preliminary dinner at Delmonico's, and am still a little irked at the extra expense. Still, the show has been put on and Henty given his puff. I still haven't been able to write his granddaughters, but will at lentgh as I suppose you also will. I spend the night at the Yale Club and return in the morning.

No news from Horace yet about Prutting, altho I wrote him at the end of last week. I wrote rather than phoned in order to be sure the financial arrangements were clearly set down, as well as asking him for the name of the doctor at Yale who took Dr Germain's place. Still, he will have wanted to wait, perhaps, to discuss with Patrick over the weekend. And I wanted to be sure to have that straight too.

I checked yesterday at the Co-op for the books on American 19th century architecture for Tunbridge Wells but they had not yet come. Nor is Mr Beney's suit finished. But I will keep at it.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

18 November 1965

Dearest Fido,

"The world is too much with us, soon or late..." I jump between budget and helping Mrs Sherman, the new secretary, to find things, and miss letters in my typing (as in secretary) as a result. But I have one consolation. Today I received in the mail the chance to subscribe to "Insight: a Quarterly Review of Religion and Mental Health." It was addressed to "Prof. Normal Pearson." Doesn't that mean I don't need it?

Tuesday I went to New York after my seminar, and yesterday was
far too

19 November 1965

... as today has been also. One is really sorry, but let me send this and try to write tomorrow morning.

All love as always,

2.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

YALE UNIVERSITY

NEW HAVEN • CONN

what he would yearn for most would be not America but simply the chance to write up his archaelogical findings. # Yes, I did know that Hope Muntz was the Brigadier's cousin. He mentioned it to me, and has spoken of it many times in his letters to you. I think you might like her, given a little freedom for rapport. Luncheons don't much permit it. # It is nice to think that he and Ethel will be in town next spring when we all come over. I suspect I shall have to have a male drink with him at his club--a substitute for the White Horse. # And was much amused at Sylva's story of Queenswood. Can't you work this into your projected history of the school? # If Agnes's suggested book about the undermining of the walls at Exeter can't be located at the London Library, just possible Yale may have it, and I could airmail from here or have the appropriate pages xeroxing # Alas, for the poor Scarletts; this is getting to be too common a story. # Sir Gavin may be right about a second book on the Romans in Switzerland-- the area is unworked save by you. But after January, I suspect there is much to be said for your going on with the memoirs. However, I always trust your modd and sense of what is appropriate for it. # This week's issue of _Life_ and _Time_ are full of the blackout and you will enjoy reading them. I was much amused to find the story of children cum candles leading oldsters up dark stairs much different from the reference I sent you in Walter Sullivan's account. It seems they charged ten cents a flight! The cause of the trouble seems to have been a faulty switch in Canada, of the slightest proportions but the widest impact-- a demonstration of how fatally interwoven the whole system is. I suspect much more whipping is going on under cover than the public is led to suspect, and the blackout on information is as ubiquitous as that of the catastrophe. The government as well as the people is really frightened by the implications, much more so than they will admit. # Many thanks too for the clipping on the Vinland Map. We have not heard the last of it, but I am glad that the BM cartographer stands behind the argument in its favor. Personal pride is much involved with historians like Morison, and with the local medieval historian and the grammarians who were not consulted. They vindicate themselves by opposing it. # And I was delighted with the account of the American teacher, Mr Kovac, and the amusing account of his pedagogical experiments. I can only say that it must have been "some" classroom of girls!

Also arrived from Switzerland, presumably from Coigny, was the copy of _Homes and Gardens_ with the second installment of Brigit Patmore's memoirs. I must say they don't go very deep, but the book may be better than the summary listing of names and personalities. I am glad, nevertheless, to get a better definition of her herself than I had had. One at least gets the outline from which to fill in the color. Do thank Coigny; I am most grateful.

Horace has written. His idea is to combine the visit to Prutting with a ten day visit to New York they plan for about January 10th or so. Then if Prutting wants him to go the hospital for a checkup "I'll be fit to go." "If I then need that kind of thorough checkup [which I had suggested as advisable] the responsibility of caring for me can be lifted from Marya's shoulders; my care has been a terribly long trial for her." He goes on to say, "Marya and I want to thank you tremendously for the wheelchair. For psychological reasons, I haven't used it yet; if I did so, I would feel that in some vague way I was 'giving in'. But when I go to town it may be the very thing to save the day. Or some evening, it may wheel me to the theatre."

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

21 November 1965

Dearest Fido,

Alas, Yale lost yesterday 13-0. And even more alas the game was
rather dull, mostly defensive on both sides and thus providing almost no fire-
works to stir up the excitement of the two games you saw. Some 50,000 or more
turned up. Yale played much better in the first half, and then seemed to tire
and to lose their eye for forward passes. However I think I did not tell you
that Friday afternoon I went to the freshman game against Harvard, which Yale
won handily 46-20, with Harvard's points scored only against Yale's second and
third-string teams. So we can look forward to a better Yale team next Fall when
you pay your sports pilgrimage.

The dinner at Lizzie's went off very nicely, and afterwards we
saw some color slides taken by her across-the-hall neighbor, an older woman
on whose friendship she much depends. Some were no better than mine, but
many were truly professional with a fine sense of color and form.

This morning has been a Henty one. I was phoned last night just
before we went out by a friend's cousin who built up what is now the Harvard
Henty collection. This morning I brought him to the office to show him what
is not at the Grolier Club. The visitor is about 65, had been given copies
of Henty by his father after each business trip to Canada, found later that
his mother had given them all away, and then began to collect what he later sold.
Now he is getting at least the titles together and lacks only six. I had a
late edition of one lacuna, *Sturdy and Strong* which I presented him with. He
knows Henty by heart as you do, and had some interesting suggestions. One being
that *With Wolfe and Canada* and *Through Russian Snows* were rewrites and completion
of Thackeray's unpublished novel. That *Thorndyke's Secret* was a rewrite of
Wilkie Collins' *Moonstone*. And that one of each three-books-a-year commitment
for Blackie's was always better than the other two, as though he worked on one
and let the other two flow. This would be worth your checking sometime, and
it occurred to me also that sometime you ought to sit down and reread Henty seriatim
as the books had appeared. This to get his shifts in emphasis and changes. One
usually thinks of the titles in terms of their alphabetical arrangement, as
*With....* is compared to *With....*, etc. The visitor said he had passed two
college entrance examinations in history, as a result of Henty, without ever having
taken a course in the subject. He was a pleasant man who seems to have drifted
from job to job after college without ever quite making any immense success in
one of them. He is the cousin of the wife of one of my college roommates, who
when she saw my collection this summer exclaimed her cousin must be told. I am
glad she did. I urged him to write up what he knew and get his bibliography in
shape.

It was your letter of the 15th I had mislaid yesterday, in which you
spoke of buying the Symonds biography. I hope I have not misled you, but I was
much interested in the connection with Ellis about whom we really need a serious
study, and in the general picture of public school life about which one knew but
not in specifics. I was glad your visit with Philip went off well. It was import-
ant to have just at this moment. I note that I will not get the Wycherly volume
for you.

All love, Norman

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

22 November 1965

Dearest Fido,

Having finished all but one of a multitude of letters of recommendation, and feeling much better about having met my obligations (save for this one which was due some weeks ago), I am now dashed by a note on my desk saying that the budget was due today "but tomorrow morning will be all right." All right? I haven't even put a pencilled note on it. But they can wait, and they will have to. I shall finish that one last recommendation first. Tonight however we must sadly go to the funeral service for the sophomore son of a friend, who has finally died of cancer. I think you were here when I was told the boy was dying. Appropriately it rains and is totally dismal outside.

Your letter from the Glockenhof and your first from Kenwin arrived today, and it does me good to think of you at home again. That is, except for having you here. Oh yes, of course there was the unposted letter from London, so we are now complete. I must say you were lucky not to have missed your plane. It is just events of this sort that always cause me to idle at Idlewild, and as you know the limousine simply won't take anyone unless there is an hour to spare. Still you did make it, and didn't even need to be fortified by a minuscule martini at the Sesame beforehand. I shall be a prohibitionist when we dine with you there.

Ingholt asked if he should post you an invitation and tickets to his lectures, but I explained (and he understood) how few days you were allotted for England each year. And his lectures of course will be published.

I was much interested in the praise of Trvelyan's firm, and will have this firmly in mind when I speak with Helen. I shall need a publishing day in town soon, with Grove as well as Harcourt. A few additional checks for permission fees for Hilda's poems have come in, one for fifty dollars, and I will bank these at the first of the month. The receipts are like grains of sand and perhaps will make a lake if not a mighty ocean.

Mary Hotson phoned Susan to say they were back, and was full of taking up again her Sunday School chorus. She had not "wanted" to do it, but there was no one else for the dears. I think we must have them in some Sunday noon, now that we have the cook. This will take care of their not wanting to drive after dark.

I hate to think of the ac cumulated mail that must be waiting on your desk for answers. I shall understand if there is a day of silence in my direction.

All love, as always

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

23 November 1965

Dearest Fido,

They howl for the budget, but when will I ever find time to get
down to it. I haven't quite yet seemed to be able to get the new secretary
to fill in units of appointments rather than scatter the dayscape with them.
And the students are endless in their requests for letters of recommendation
and assistance in personel dilemmas. My today's chore, for example, was to
solve the problem of a 6 1/2 yr old son of a student who is unhappy in his
second grade. This is the child of the Australian poet. So I have contacted
an acquaintance who is a member of the city School Board to see if the child
can be transferred. I hope he will be, and the difficulties ended. But it
does take time.

So does even one's social life which is involved in funeral ser-
vices, as last night, and symphony concerts as tonight. But of course people
do die, and Susan dislikes sitting at home all the time while I do office work
in the kitchen. What a happy day it will be when my chairmanship is over. I
think I told you I plan to take 1967-68 on leave again. This time it will have
to be without pay, but I shall depend on my friend W.

However I did manage to write H.P.Collins this morning, if for no
better reason than getting the xeroxes off my desk. Thanking him at the same
time for the copies of the letters he sent. I gather that Collins actually was
closer to her than either you or I suspected. For in one letter she speaks of
hoping that her "daily bulletins" do not overhawm him. This seems to have been
in the 1926-1927 period, as from Territet.

I sympathize with your laundry basket of magazines and parcels, or
rather I sympathize with you in having to face it. But empty it will become,
soon enough I am sure.

Your letter of the 20th came today. I am pleased with your good
In having found an Etruscan Spinkery for Kenneth. They keep a good eye open for
you. I pat my little Roman eagle mornings as an affidavit. I am much interested
in Pat's comment on the reaction of his English friend, the publisher. I am not
altogether surprised, for your book carries a real political charge even though wrap-
ped in myth. The publishing houses no doubt are skitterish about rebounds against
them on the part of the Labor Government. I think perhaps we wait until January
is finished and then see what the reaction is to a double package.

I lunched this noon with one of the editors of the Vinland map who
had been at the dinner at the Waldorf for Princess Margaret and Snowden. He had
talked with some length with Snowden who had been introduced to him by Marie Bullock,
the one to whom I gave your books. Snowden he thought was alert and easy in his
manner, though not overwhelmingly interesting. But when he heard that Victor was
from the Yale Library he asked if Yale had seen "my book." He knew all about the
mapbook. My friend thought Margaret hard-looking, and very obviously bored with
the whole party until she left the dias and went to a small table where she was
immediately surrounded by a group of long-haired British beats with whom she chatted
animatedly, holding a long gold cigarette holder in her mouth as she spoke. But

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

24 November 1965

Dearest Fido,

Yale begins to unwind by this noon, will come to a stop tomorrow for Thanksgiving and pretty much stay static until the beginning of the week. Foolishly the authorities expect the boys at classes on Friday but less than a quarter are really expected to stay, and no one as teacher wants to give "valuable" data which must only be repeated. However I shall keep my own egret flying, for I see no alternative to coming down tomorrow morning to work on the budget without interruption. I had hoped to work in the garden, lopping off the crystallthemums for winter tidyness. But the budget is already long overdue.

Your letter of the 21st was in this noon's mail. I like thinking of you as back in the rhythm of Kenwin and lunching at the Escale for the good of Tigerli.

I had forgotten to mention Archie Aldridge's death. This will be difficult for her, since I suspect she will become lonely soon. But I wonder if she won't remarry eventually. I must say she has been most loyal to Archie in what must have been difficult and confining years.

The New York Times is putting out a little paperback on the big blackout. I had thought of getting a copy and wrapping for your Christmas. But this is foolish, for the interest lessens as time goes on, and you should have it black off the switch (if that is a proper electrical translation of hot off the griddle. So I will try to pick up a copy on Friday and send it off airmail with early Christmas greetings. Meanwhile we enjoy the phonograph which constantly brings the same from you.

No, academics do not take Stein seriously. But I am in the midst of an excellent book on her by some unknown woman in the mid-west. Or rather am in the midst of the ms which I am reading for the Harvard Press. She goes deeply into G's relationship to the philosophies of Whitehead and Bergson and Wittgenstein -- over my head -- and shows how she somehow came into the field of modern speculative thought as philosophy concerns itself with problems of time and the reality of the consciousness. But academic as a whole will never buy what they cannot grasp, and they will always be too conservative for her. Or will they? I do get a response out of my students of at least respect for her as a serious worker. I do what I can, and indeed think I have done more than any others. But I shall do better when I have had a rest from the chairmanship.

All love,
Norman

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

27 November 1965

Dearest Fido,

I have now become a devotee of the telephone, and having the enclosed clipping about Needham I have just put down the phone from having spoken with him. He is much excited by the gift in question, not only for its own sake but because the publicity (his picture was also in the New York Times) seems to be stirring up others. People who have such things want them to go to the right place where they will be used. Other members of the family of this donor are now adding to what she gave. And a man phoned from Philadelphia to say he had three huge packing cases (big enough to require a truck) of wooden printing blocks from Tibet which he wants to bring up at his own expense and present. They have come down through the Eurasian branch of his family. One wonders what they will prove to be. I asked Needham about his plans, and it seems the trip is now put off until April when the store can let him go. I daresay the longer he has to enjoy the prospect the better he likes it.

Your letter of the 24th was in today's mail, and I bow low in thanks for the airmail stamps. I will use them for letters to you. What a bore about the envelopes for the diaries. I think God, or someone in a high place, must be trying to discourage you.

I have spent today valiantly at work on my desk, writing letters and doing oddments to clear the surface. Alas, there is a long way still to go. But I finished reading the ms of the book on Gertrude Stein, being sorry to say that when I finished I felt she had not quite carried it off despite the goodness of her insights. I suggested she try to make a more conherent whole of it and then to resubmit. I am disappointed to have come to this conclusion. She will be too. But at least that job is done. Now I can turn to the ms novel of which I have read a half, and the huge package of requests for fellowships from the American Council of Learned Societies on which I must vote on the 10th.

At long last I wrote Brimmell about the show, and played some of my bills from him (he has just sent along quotations on 10 new titles, including a Henty--*Do Your Duty*, which you didn't have for some reason, also *In Troubled Times* which appeared in an annual. Otherwise Kingston, Mayne Reid, Fenn and Collingwood. Then I wrote Susan's swster to thank for the loan of the Trevelyan *Lion*, sending her a check for the cost of shipping. Tomorrow I hope to write to Phyllis Jackson. And, oh yes, I wrote at length to Lady Bigham. So I march, though slowly.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

28 November 1965

Dearest Fido,

I finish the Thanksgiving weekend with my desk consider-
ably better, though I must admit a few things have been pushed under
the rug (or would be, if there were one.) Actually as you know there
was no holiday save for Thanksgiving Day itself. But the students have
absented themselves; so have most of the faculty. The place has been
a haven, as a result.

This morning I at last wrote a long, two-page letter to
Phyllis Jackson about the Grolier show, promising her pictures of the
hall with the Egret flying (they promised twice to have them taken: I
will phone again tomorrow), and speaking of coming up to see her in
March when we come over. Also another not quite so long letter to a
man who offered to lend Henties to us (but I did not draw on), and now
I have only Henry Miller to write to. w

Besides that were eight other letters this morning on this
or that business matter. I was so worn out by noon, that after a typically
Swiss dinner of roast duck (typical in its heaviness) I napped for a
half hour. Then bravely to my feet and outside to crop back the dead
crysanthemums and trim the roses (two still in blossom despite the
freezing weather) so that the beds now wait tidily for the snow to make
them warm. Tonight young Susan is singing in a concert of ancient music,
so we are taking the grandchildren for overnight. I expect I will be no
less tired by the time bedtime comes. But I shall have to address some
fifty or more envelopes for the invitations to the American Studies Christ-
mas party on the 13th. Next year the new secretary will have the right
list, but it is better in my hand anyhow.

I forget whether or not I told you that Pantheon had written
wanting to reprint another 1500 copies of *October*. I agreed but suggested
why not paper also. But I have no idea how *Roman Wall* has done. I think
it will take another summer to make sure. But I want some in hard cover
anyhow.

I may have told you about the More psalter, but the acquisition
has now been announced. I am told the family took it out to Switzerland
some time since. Otherwise it would surely have been classified as a national
treasure. I suppose it must be the chief English Catholic relic, and I will
see that you are left alone by it for prayer when you next come. Apparently
it is most useful for the edition of More being edited here. However the
trumpeter swans may interest you more as a kind of Hilda Quick item.

I hope the pile on your own desk is diminishing.

2 3 1 H G S
YALE UNIVERSITY
NEW HAVEN · CONN

30 November 1965

Dearest Fido,

It is now a quarter to six. I did not squeeze in time yesterday to write. Now I am waiting for an assistant professor to come for me to weep over him for kicking a student out of his class; the students having just left after wanting me to weep over him. And it is lucky that I keep a flask of tranquilizers in my pocket. I am only sorry I can't send you a transcript of the various interviews, as I try to combine generalship with the role of psychiatrist. My Puritanism, however, triumphs enough to let me refuse the invitation to have a martini with the professor while we discuss his himselfness and the student's himnal.

However after a frantically concentrated morning I managed to hand in the multi-paged budget. That is something.

Here is the knock on the door. All love as always,

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

1 December 1965

Dearest Fido,

Sorry to have written you only a single snippet in the past
two days. And sorry for myself too that from 4:30 on until 6:15 I had
to play psychiatrist. I am going to the bank tomorrow to borrow enough
for a long leather couch to put in my office. Then I can begin to charge
fees. But I suppose yesterday was really more like having to play the
role of grandfather. Can you imagine an instructor and a student getting
into such a row in a seminar that the student refuses to leave when asked
to, shouts out that he has more money than the instructor, the instructor
helps to begin all this by heavy sarcasm, until finally it was ring-around-
the-rosy as each of them filed in and out and in again. The instructor
could be helped by a psychiatrist or instruction by a priest of common
sense; the boy I think really does need a psychiatrist, especially since
as a junior he is about to be married. Tomorrow I will see his college
dean and try to work out some solution But, of course! And in between
another youngish assistant professor came in to ask me why an older
professor did not like him. And after lunch, Lewis came in to discuss
his conversation with Edel. The latter situation is still confused,
with Edel certainly showing more of a hard business matter than noblesse
oblige, although he says he may withdraw from the Wharton race if, as
I gather seems likely, he is asked to write the official biography of
Eliot.

I got home finally to find Susan with heavy sniffles that
developed into a real cold before her bedtime, having gone to New York
by train for Christmas shopping and her hairdresser and, one presumes,
much overdone. Thanks to having a cook now, I persuaded her to sleep
late this morning.

This is morning and I have my afternoon seminar to prepare,
but with such a harvest of accumulated letters from you--and no knowing
what waifs the wind will blow in at the end of this afternoon--I'd better
make a start of answering them now.

Many thanks for your visit to Beney. I guess in my innocense
I had thought only of a Lichtenstein tax and not a Swiss one. And in the
statements from Beney, I guess there really aren't any statements of taxes
and fees to him or the Lichtenstein agents, so I hadn't picked it up, as
I could have done by recalculating the whole. I was used to the kind of
statement they give in the States. But at least I now know why, and he
in turn will know my interest in capital gains rather than professorial
conservatism. I think your idea of following along some of your own
successful specs is the right solution. I am thinking only of the days
ahead when I can retire, or post-1967 if I can then manage a hide-away for
work with perhaps a part-time secretary. I was much interested that Licht-
enstein also is closing down on foreign accounts.

I am delighted that you plan to get a new radio, for you do
depend on it a lot for special programs. Immos' prchids must be lovely;
perhaps we should take Susan to see his plants when we are over. I daresay

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

it might please him to show them off to some one knows orchids. We could
do it en route to somewhere or something, so one need not prolong the
stay. As to radios and the like, I am almost persuaded to buy a small
t.v. for the cook, to make her evenings less lonely in her little room.
I notice that she reads the t.v. schedule carefully each day. At Mrs
Bennett's there was a set for the servants quarter.

It would be fun sometime for Cousin Jack to take me in his car,
but I fear this is not indicated for this trip--the visit to the Jacksons
and to Hastings probably being as much as one can get in. Sometime too
I want to see Marvells if only from the outside and to photograph it.
I did by the way buy a superb architectural book for my son in law's
Christmas, an account of the barns of the Abbey of Bealieu: one at the
grange of Great Coxwell in Berks, the other at Bealieu-St. Edmonds in
Hampshire. These are wonderfully handsome; you must get Phyllis to
drive you to them some time. They would be valuable to tuck away in
your memory.

I think I will suggest to the Brigadier that he take me to his
Club for a drink. His kind of manhood really asserts itself only in
such a masculine surroundings. And it is fun to watch. As for Collins
I shall wait for his reaction to the kind of memoir he proposes, and
until he has finished the present research before suggesting the reward.

We can manage a visit to John Maggs when I am in London, and
may get a line from this. I shall warn him ahead that I will be there.
An alert man will have something to show me. I think the Kipling to
Haggard book it something I take out of the Yale library. I bought the
other only because it was remaindered. The Lonsdale SPY will almost
certainly come out here, so buy only if you want to read it first. I
daresay Philby may have had a hand in it, which is the reason for the
tip-off to spread the rumor and hence the added interest for sales.
I am much relieved that the diary problem of envelopes was settled at
last. Eally Coigny is invaluable. What would you do without her as
a balance to Elsie in providing their two pipe lines into the Swiss
mind and scene.

And it is certainly better to wait until after the first of the
new year to put her brother back on the will. After all, the main job is
already done, and mine were only very minor suggestions which need not be
hurried.

As of 1967 (I begin my leave that Fall) I will be through with
administrative responsibilities, but I imagine this time I will hang around
a little while until I have at least handed over the Italian notebooks.
During the opening days of the term I can perhaps hop off to Texas or elsewhere
to check on papers in some library, and avoid the pressure from others. This
will also make the transition easier for Lizzie by not reminding her of
past years when she has panicked under the pressure of being left alone. My
plan --if feasible financially--is to hire an apartment off campus which will
accomodate my books (they are too many for any university office or Goodrich
Street) and let me have a proper hideaway. With an apartment I wouldn't
have to worry about maintenance, and a secretary could come for some hours
a week to do filing and take dictation without being on my neck for every
hour of the day.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

3 December 1965

Dearest Fido,

Sorry not to have written yesterday. But most of the day was taken up with, or least disturbed by, the visit of two Canadian professors from Ottawa who, having an Institute of Canadian Studies there want to know how we work our American Studies here. Today also they flutter around interviewing students for their reaction to our program, and I must see them again at 4. Then at the end of the afternoon I had to hurry to fetch my car, whose radio was being fixed. Today aside from arranging the interviews in the next office I was host to a visiting professor from Prague, and then had a professor from Nagoya in Japan. I hope it all adds up to good international feeling; it is certainly disruptive otherwise.

Thought you might be interested in the enclosed clipping about Greenland. I met the two American priests, as you may remember, when I was at Brattahlid on my second trip, and had a full and confidential report once I asked "how the Church was doing," as to what it were my own.

I bustled about yesterday and, having reminded the tailors, picked up Beney's suit, which I will post probably on Saturday or Monday by air mail. I put a Christmas card inside, and hope this will help as much as the reduced value I shall put on the suit itself.

I can see by your letters of the 28th, 29th and 30th, now here, that the Christmas bustle, tho peraps not the Christmas spirit, is already upon you. (Oh yes, I airmailed the blackout book to you today, without wrapping so you would not feel inhibited as by a gift intended for the 25th.) O.B. sent me an advertisement for his book, so I shall have to order one. It is curious that despite all the, proper, pleas that homosexual love is simply love, nevertheless they treat it in poetry and fiction as though it were a naughty secret. The schoolboy attitude manages to linger in grown men. But I daresay you will carry through with O.B. if you simply treat love as love rather than trying to make a cinema out of a sonnet. # It is much easier to deal with Petrie's Queenwood book, and this is a wonderful gambit of yours to encourage her with it. I see a really attractive privately printed book for alumna and ex-faculty, but see to it also that a few copies get in the right libraries: the B.M., the red brick and Oxonbridge.

Glad you persist with your Ango-Saxon digging, and hope the dust of the volumes doesn't choke you. On the 13th I am to lunch with someone called Sir Ronald Syme, of Oxford, their Roman history expert who is described as "the" expert. Can you tell me anything about him, or do you have an questions to ask?

Yours of the 30th must have killed your morning to write.
I apologize for occasioning it. But I am glad that you approved of my

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

(at that moment came a half-hour of a final interview with the Canadians) contact with Pokross. I don't think it at all vital that I be on the board except, as I said, as something might happen to you and all control with the original intentions be lost. Pokross's own interest would be much increased with a less dormant fund. Your letter, by the way, to him was excellent.

I really don't know Wendy except by her letters, but it may well be that she will find it easier for awhile at least in Switzerland or somehow on her own. When I said she might marry again it was in the sense that she is gregarious rather than disloyal person. She rather led Archie by the nose but she was completely devoted to him.

And now I must explain having opened the enclosed letter from Georgia, which arrived this morning addressed in my care. It was marked PERSONAL on the envelope, but I opened and read. I am really aghast. I had simply assumed that the operation was the usual prostate affair, but cholesteries are done (in my limited experience) only when there has been a cancer of the intestinal tracts; so that even though this was not necessary it seems to have been feared. This will be very hard on everyone for a time at least, and it is hard to get rid of the fear of a recurrence. Poor Sachie, poor Georgia!

I think I wrote you, about Edel, that he was indeed interested and would withdraw from the competition apparently only if this other mysterious alternative did not materialize. Which makes Wharton for Lewis and hand-me-down if he does get it. Since Edel has perhaps two more volumes on James to go, plus what must be an immense edition of James letters, I don't see how he can hope to get to it for several years yet. Lewis is the man you meet in my office, a very fine one too.

I have had a letter from John S which I answered this morning. He inquired about a position at the Yale Press for a David McDowell a friend of his whom I also knew from the days when he was at New Directions. But McDowell got tossed out of Random House and then out of McDowell and Obolensky which he helped to found with the Astor money, so publishers are leary of him. But I think John sensed this and wrote only because asked to. He tells that Nicky was on a fob in the Thanksgiving Day parade, Nicky remarking "This is a real honor for a child!"

All love as always,

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

5 December 1965

Dearest Fido,

Yesterday was hectic, and I rather felt it at the end.
But we were safely back in New Haven at noon today, I took a longish
nap after lunch, and am at the office for a half hour or so to finish
a few things not done yesterday.

The first of the New York parties was at the G rolier Club,
where they apparently have a gathering every Saturday afternoon at
which three members are hosts. It is the last thing in the world I would
go down deliberately for, and indeed have never been to one before. But
yesterday was pleasant, we knew two of the hosts, and of course the
Dusty Diamonds show was still up. I hardly had a chance to see it again
however, for I was always being introduced to this person or that one,
and even the path to the doorway wasn't clear when we left at 5:30.

The Japanese play and preliminaries took care of the rest
of the day. The author of _Zeami_ had been brought to me in Kyoto for
me to get into the Yale Drama School, I did, and now have helped him
to get his play put on in New York, and arranged for an Asia Foundation
Fellowship to take him home by way of London, Rome and Athens. We
stayed at the Stanhope and had a promptish six o'clock dinner there,
since the play began at 8. Began at 8, and ended at midnight! It was
produced in a bsement auditoreum of the Asia House bulding, and was
without a breath of air except during intermissions when they put on a
fan and produced noise as well as winds. The actors were all profession-
al but worked without a fee, and were remarkably good, no lines fluffed,
the stage movement excellent. The director was a young Italian married to
a Japanese girl. But the recent days have been so tiring, the play was so
long, and the air was so hot, that in the next to the last act I had to
leave the room hurriedly to be briefly sick. Actually I think I must have
caught a flu bug for I was miserable most of the night, had the lightest
of breakfasts, and only bouillon and ice cream for lunch.

Sysan was a little unhappy that I came down at all this afternoon,
and I must get a thing or two done. But I wanted to write you first, since
now the only Sunday collection outside my office is at 4.

All love, as always
NORMAN

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

6 December 1965

Dearest Fido,

There has not been much time for anything to happen
since my yesterday afternoon's letter, except that young Susan and
the two children came for supper last night (which Susan cooked)
and that I have felt properly wretched up to this moment. I have
talked to the doctor over the phone. We agree that he could advise
nothing but my going to bed (which of course is impossible). I
think it must be a kind of low-grade intestinal flu, which is making
the rounds, so he prescribed dramomime. I really do feel low-keyed
and fear I shall not be sparkling when I introduce Leon Edel at his
lecture this afternoon or serve as host at Mory's for the dinner
party in his honor afterwards. Feeling rather unsympathetic towards
his zeal for doing the Wharton biography doesn't raise my spirits
either. At Lewis's dinner part for him last Friday he said to
his host (consolingly?), "Well you wouldn't have gotten it anyhow!"

Your letter of the 2nd came today (at that moment I was
as usual interrupted--this time by Connecticut Academy affairs, Harald
Ingholt of course being absent). Many thanks for letting me know of
Frank Maggs' death. I will drop his son a note; since I am told on
this side that it has been well known Frank M has been slipping for some
years, one can well understand why the son has been preoccupied). #
Bad luck, and an Avalon reflection, that they think of building the
workers' settlement nearby. But I should go ahead with your repairs
anyhow. There may be a few more cars during the day, but the workers
will sleep at night. # It is interesting to see the way the Swiss
rather oppose electric typewriters; I imagine it is, as you suggest,
that no local one is manufactured and one universally opposes anything
which can only be had by import. It would surprise me if Hermes did
not in the end turn out to be using a basic imported patent. # Simply
ignore Miss Johnson from Principia; one should put a foot down against
these study projects which take up important time. For a serious in-
quirer asking serious questions, for a book, one can spare the time.
It is much like the high school students here, like the girl on Frost,
who were each supposed to interview two persons on him. # What a poor
excuse for practising one's penmanship to have to recopy your will.
But you will relieved when it is finished. Then like all wills, another
year or so make require other changes. But the model has beet set up.

Yesterdy's New Haven Register carried an account of Marie
Borroff, which I thought might interest you. It all becomes a little
self-conscious on both sides, alas.

All love, as always

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

9 December 1965

Dearest Fido,

Silence as cold as the snow will have descended on you, and I
am deeply sorry for both. To make it worse I apparently (altho I did weigh
the letter) put insufficient postage upon my last, so that it was returned
to me only again to be left overnight lost in the welter on my desk. For
in addition to classes and occupied evenings I have been in the helter-skelter
of a pack of applications for American Council of Learned Societies grants
which must be acted on tomorrow in New York. (I go down in a half hour, at
the end of the day, since the meeting begins too early for the first train to
bring me there in time). These were from Japan, Australia, and New Zealand,
plus institutional requests from greater Europe and the U.K., covering literature
and law and economics and geography and political science and history and
philosophy, so that I have had to call in the resources of Yale for advice.
In the end I am not much the wiser but hope I may act, in concert with the
others, wisely. I had hoped to go down this morning and have a day of Christ-
mas shopping and business, but I was so far behind that I have had to devote
the entire day exclusively to the applications. Too bad, of course, in terms
of shopping; but I daresay I have the applications better in mind for having
done them so recently. Once this is over I have no more chores (outside of
Christmas cards) until I go to Chicago on the 26th.

Part of the pressure has been due to the fact that I have had no
evenings at home this week. Monday night I had to give the dinner for Edel
after his lecture; Tuesday I took Susan to the Lawn Club before the Boston
Symphony; yesterday she wanted to go to a wine-tasting party and dinner, and
so the evenings have gone. Tonight I shall be gone and I will not be able to
get back tomorrow until long after dinner. But perhaps Saturday night will be
free.

Life being so hectic there is not much to report. Rather to my sur-
prise no one had bought the book Hilda gave Marianne, and it is being sent to me.
But I did think that M's friend, Mrs Cohn, the dealer, was rather cheeky after
advertising it as she did to write: "While it is no secret that I have recently
purchased some material from the recipient of the H.D. book (Don Gallup and others
know it) I would, however, much appreciate it if you do not show or mention the
book at this time." Really! If Marianne wants to sell it to a dealer, and the
dealer wants to advertise it in her catalogue, what can the secret be? Actually
I rather think it might be nice to present to Bryn Mawr as a souvenir of them
both. My other book of the week was a second edition of THE ELDER BROTHER, 1650,
of which we had two copies of the first and one of 1651, so this fills in that
sequence rather nicely. It was offered by a dealer in New York at what did not
seem an excessive price, so I bought it. As I remember we agreed that B&F was
something we were still interested in completing, tho that would never actually
be possible. I trust you approve, and there was not really time to confer.

Your letter of the 5th arrived yesterday, those of the 6th and 7th today.
I was delighted that your radio works again so well, now that you are re-plugged
electrically, and hope that Elsie will be persuaded to try stereo. She enjoys
music so much it is a great pity not to enjoy it completely. # You are becoming a

fine spokesman for the States. But you have the advantage of seeing the
differences. The average American abroad knows only what he has known at
home. # Glad that the Blackout book came. I have not read it myself, I
simply grabbed and rushed it to the post. # Will see that 'elen has some
extra copies of Avalon sent to Kenwin. It is worth having a few on hand. I
really am sorry for Baddeley, but one feels more and more than no thanks
are given by publishers for having manuscripts directed towards them. I
missed the Mary Macarthy interview with Flanner and wished I hadn't. But I have
been so rushed lately that I read almost nothing except what is forced on me for
the next day. Soon I shall have to settle in for the National Book Award reading.
I believe there are some 20 books that have to be gone through. Some of course
I can put aside if they don't seem appropriate. # It was noce to see Frank
Maggs catalogues on Travel so well remembered. He gave you the set, which we
have on this side.

And so I must get ready to pick up my gear and drive to the station.
It is already dark. Tonight I suspect I shall do little more than pop into
bed after dinner. Had I had time to plan otherwise I might have done differently.
Indeed I had arranged to see John Cournos, who wants to see me, but had to cancel.

Will not write presumably until Saturday when I am back. All love as
always,

Norman

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

11 December 1965

Dearest Fido,

The afternoon is almost over, but little of the day has been
mine. I began a little after 9 with Ann Abelson, going over the manuscript
of her novel on Paganini with her. She had left a little before 11 when the
two visitors from the Marist College, in Poughkeepsie New York arrived --
a Marist Brother and a lay teacher of history--to ask advice on how to set
up an American Studies program at their college. Fortunately I had asked
them to send along a copy of their catalogue, and could use this to draw
on for the outline of the curriculum. They were pleasant, had been brave enough
to drive through the Berkshires in the snow--it has been mostly rainy drizzle
here-- and were full of questions. I took them to lunch at Mory's in the
fullness of time and they left about 3 to go the 80 miles home again. So now
after writing you a note swiftly, to get in before the collection at 4, I shall
have to settle down in earnest at my desk.

I hope you were amused by the coincidence of my raising the problem
of the Sachs fund with one of its whilom beneficiaries. Redlich did seem to
know Trudie very well and to be extremely fond of her. He was somewhat harsh
on Szillard, saying that he treated Trudie as only a brute could and rather
hinted at both psychological and physical cruely, but said that after the
final illness Szillard had found her both congenial useful and necessary, and
that Trudie had felt herself resolved by his need. However he conceded that
Szillard was a genius and behaved in the 19th century freedom of genius. This
was all more or less in passing rather than an extended conversation. As to
the Fund I think he might well call your attention to some one interesting, and
he has been brought up in the Viennese Freudian tradition. When I said the
analysis had to be Freudian, he said "of course, of course!" But did say that
today the full classical analysis was so expensive almost no one could afford
either the money or the time, and that this was a meaningful problem for the
training of analysts. He is a nice person, you might enjoy meeting him. His
wife is a Herta Glaz who used to sing with the Metropolitan Opera Company and
abroad.

The day-long meeting with the ACLS went in a much smoother and more
businesslike manner than I had feared, and we were actually finished by four in the
afternoon after disposing of some 200,000 dollars. Alas, I could not get a
fellowship for a young Japanese in whom I am interested, but he was placed on the
waiting list and may well get one next year. I had hoped to sneak in a little
shopping at the end of the afternoon--I must find something to give Susan for
our 25th anniversary in February--but the American Literature Professor from the
University of Pennsylvania wanted me to share a drink with him before he entrained
for Philadelphia, and so I could not. I took the seven o'clock train home only to
find it did not have a diner, so I munched a ham sandwich and sucked milk through
a straw, and arrived home a little weary and glad the day was done.

No letters from you yesterday or today; but the third volume of the
Owens journal arrived, for which my thanks. I was interested to see advertised
in a British catalogue a new book by Reresby and Viscount Norwich on *Mount Athos*,
with numerous illustrations. I had not realised he was following so closely in

It is such a dreary day outside I only wish I could go home and doze before dinner. But as
Frost would say, "there are miles to go before I sleep."

Sachie's footsteps.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

12 December 1965

Dearest Fido,

My desk continues to be a hodge-podge of business and Christ-
mas greetings, although I sometimes manage to combine the two. At any
rate there is a reasonably satisfactory pile of envelopes to be posted,
and every bit helps. Tomorrow I shall mail my final small package by
air to you. In it or in one of the two will be a package for Ines which
I send as to you to be kept for her until the appropriate moment. It
is marked, so you will know.

I did forget to answer your question about the architectural
books. I did order them when you were here or had just left, but did so
by word of mouth which must have gone in one Cooperative ear and out the
other. For when I checked they had no record. So a fortnight or so ago
I reordered with a duly inscribed piece of paper, and you can tell your
man that they are on the way, or will be when received here and sent on.
I left the latter to the Co-op and had the two (one of them a paperback, the
other rather expensive) charged to your account.

It was not that I forgot, but rather that I did not have time
to describe to you the luncheon last Tuesday with the author of "Rudolph
the Red-Nosed Reindeer," an American poem and later song which have long
been duly ritualized for the Christmas season. To hear him tell about its
genesis was rather like listening to Poe's "The Philosophy of Composition"
in which Poe describes the contrived writing of "The Raven." A Dartmouth
graduate in the advertising department of Sears Roebuck (the mail order firm)
he had been asked by a vice-president to write an animal story in verse which
could sent out at Christmas in an edition of three million copies. It was to
be on the order of Monro Leaf's Ferdinand the Bull, the bull who preferred
picking daisies to being in the bull ring. So he then read Ferdinand to several
groups of children and decided that Leaf's ending with daisies was really written
for adults, the children much preferring a bull to out and fight and win. So
his must have a happy ending to their taste. The only animal suitable for
Christmas obviously had to be a reindeer, so that was settled. And the best
animal story with a happy ending was the ugly duckling's, so he must have an
ugly reindeer. What could be ugly about a reindeer? Not an ear or a nose or
a short leg, for that would arouse pity for animals as it does for men. The
only feature of the head one can joke about is a man's nose, so the nose of
the reindeer was settled on. Red noses are funny, though the vice-president
rejected this at first as reminding people of drunkards (and one doesn't want
a youthful reindeer beatnik: incidentally, the vice-president left Sears shortly
to go with Hiram Walker Distillers). How could a red nose turn out happily?
By becoming a Christmas decoration through the association of red with the Yule,
as though it were a bulb on a Christmas tree. And the red-nosed reindeer. But
what could he be called? The name had to be alliterative, but Rollo, the red-nosed
reindeer seemed rather too prissy. But Rudolph!--Rudolph was Germanic like Santa
Claus himself; and so Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer was born and put into verse
in the same metrics as The Night Before Christmas. Now the author has grown

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

14 December 1965

Dearest Fido,

One struggles through towards the Christmas. Last evening we had the American Studies party for the faculty and graduate students. Susan came loyally down after luncheon and decorated the room with fir boughs and poinsettias, but fortunately the rest was taken care of by the Yale Dining Hall so that eggnpg, cookies and little sandwiches were prepared by other hands than our own. After the

15 December-- a.m.

party was over Susan and I took the new secretary and her husband to dinner at the Graduates Club (he works in a bank), and so have made the diplomatic gestures appropriate.

The break is an indication of how life goes; for after my seminare closed at 4, an appointment had been made to see me by a young instructor who was not promoted and so must seek a place elsewhere (I might add in English, not in American Studies. Another appointment had been for 4:30 but I asked the second person to come back on Friday so that I could go to the gym at 5. But the first man arrived at 4:40, as I was typing you and had taken it for granted he would not appear. He had meant to come on time but "sort-of-got-delayed." Then he wanted to weep on my shoulders, get me to get him reinstated, and paid no attention to my initial announcement that I had to leave at a quarter to four. Obviously he felt he could go on indefinitely and that no one had anything to do except talk. Yet of course I felt sorry for him. Anyhow at 5 I simply got to my feet and left.

After dinner I spent the time writing Christmas cards until the ink in my pen ran out. I must say I felt equally emptied of the spirit of the season. Fortunately there are a few days left, so that I can go to a filling station and refuel my enthusiasm.

Your letter of the 11th came yesterday, yours of the 12th was in this morning's mail. Poor Elsie, she had every right to feel irritated at the local train in carrying her beyond Buriar. # But glad your visit to the Beneys went so well. One watched the deGaulle election with great interest. I think I had not suspected the resistance to him on the part of the French. My hunch is that he will indeed get the re-election but will go on much as before. He is no so much a politician as a leader, even if there is not one who follows his lead. In any event the next term will for one reason or another be his last. Then God only knows what will happen. But the French don't really want to be alone. #Everything gets messed up, and I do not at all envy Wilson in the position he finds himself and England in vis-a-vis Rhodesia. # Greece is apparently an absolute mess, with the communist elements doing everything they can to upset the olive cart, and then take over on the excuse of exerting order(and power). It may be just as well that we have done Greece for the moment. #Yes, you must have Wendy; it would be cruel to deny her at this upsetting period of her life. She needs someone simply to talk to about the weather. I hope your weather improves. This is our fifth consecutive day and night of drizzle, and we have not seen the sun since last midweek.
All love, Norman

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

15 December 1965

Dearest Fido,

I wrote this morning, and there is hardly anything of note
during the day to add to the earlier epistle. At noon I had expected
the Japanese playwright, the Italian producer and the American translator
of *Zeami* for luncheon at Mory's. But when they appeared at the office
the Italian producer's Japanese wife was in tow. So had to phone Mory's
and cancel the table there and go instead to the Graduates Club. I went
through a long grilling about changes in future productions of the play
in Italy and almost felt as though I were a man of the theatre.

I had to leave the luncheon early in order to get to my
undergraduate seminar (on Cummings), and now that is over, the secretary
has gone home, Professor Lewis is ready to depart for Massachusetts to
keep out of sight until New Year's, and I at least have the satisfaction
of no more classes for three weeks and no undergraduate classes for month.
But oh those unwritten Christmas cards!

Two yellowbacks have arrived, which I read yesterday. But
there was nothing special to be commented on in them, just the satisfaction
of keeping up through them. Urzidil has sent a little book for Christmas,
which was kind of him; and Vebaek has sent on offprint of his paper on a
Norse farm in Greenland. I had also a nice letter from him, but the Vinland
book was not mentioned. Surface mail to Denmark is always slow, but I
should have thought not this slow. For I had the books sent before you
arrived in the States. I think they use Danish freighters, quite literally,
which proceed slowly from port to port.

Horace sent a pretty Christmas card of a painting, with an extended
literary commentary on it. He is now putting off his visit to Prutting until
after January 23rd, for which I am a little sorry if indeed he is as troubled
by his ailment as he professed being when we visited him. But I can hardly order
him to take care of himself.

Most of tomorrow must be devoted to a meeting of the editorial board
of the edition of Jonathan Edwards. They come from around the country so one
can't really skip it. Then tomorrow night I have to go to the hospital to give
an evening on Faulkner's *Absalom, Absalom* to the wives of the internes. Yale
really is pretty demanding on its senior professors in its attempts to make a
big happy educated family. It may be difficult to squeeze in a letter for that
reason, but I shall try.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

16 December 1965

Dearest Fido,

I write during what is left of the morning, after a late arrival, since at noon I must go to the Yale Press for luncheon and an all-afternoon meeting of the committee for the Jonathan Edwards edition. This has been in process for several years now. We made a good beginning, with two new editions of already published works, but since then have had to sit back and wait for four years while the editor of the unpublished Miscellanies footnotes and then erases the footnotes on his manuscript. It has become almost psychiatric problem with him as he clings to his task. When Perry Miller, the chief editor died, I refused to become chief editor in his place; and for that at least I am thankful. But I can't back out completely.

Redlich's help through Sachs came in 1937 (my typewriter must have blurred), but the funds may have come directly from you if Pokross is correct in saying that the income from the fund must be spent in the States. Redlich was in Vienna. Susan had a phone call yesterday from Mrs Redlich surprised to find when she and her husband visited a Clarence Faust and his wife in New York (he is an older man about to retire from the vice-presidency of the Ford Foundation) that we were once close friends of the Fausts though we have seen little of them recently because of his and my pressure of work. So they are asking the Fausts to New Haven to put us in reunion. The suggestion to Sachs about Redlich originated with Anna Freud, help which Redlich repaid recently by getting her a grant from someone. I did not regale him with the stories of Anna's wartime ungallantry.

The B & F was $200.00, but if you insist on paying why not let me withdraw from the savings account. This seems a reasonable use of the money. Hilda's book was $45.00, and I could of course take that from her account. I had thought of sometime giving it to Bryn Mawr as a sentimental link between their two greatest poets. It would rather please me to make evident Hilda's feeling toward her former classmate.

The unwritten Christmas cards and letters overwhelm me in prospect. But I shall have to devote much of the weekend to them, even though I should instead be working on an overdue book review. Susan had helped with the cards this year but is now afflicted with bursitis. We have sent a card to Horace and Marya--I mean she did -- but I must write and enclose their Christmas thousand dollars. I wish he didn't fear Prutting, but understand how one is drawn to let "ill enough alone."

Maugham is now dead and his agony is over. I am a little surprised at the daily coverage the newspapers gave to his final illness. I might have thought the astronauts would have blasted him off the page. What an extraordinary affair the rendezvous was! The American teams do seem to have taken great strides ahead. But I always remember sentimentally that pre-hsitory blast-off you and I saw at Churchill.

17 December 1965

Dearest Fido,

This is the sort of day when one wants nothing to eat but tranquilizers on toast. Classes more less being over (the talk last night to the wives of internes went well, I am happy to say), one would think that freedom bells would ring. But the chance to do so much makes one trip at every step.

There has been nice mail. A letter from Islay full of the palazzo but on the order of what you already know. And one from the Brigadier which I have saved for tonight. And one from you as of the 14th. Ah, never call for help from an inmate of your own house or you will suffer the penalties of a good housekeeper. Elsie must have felt a proper satisfaction after your stuck drawer.

And Christmas, Christmas. Susan woke in the night with a frightful recurrence of her bursitis and almost wept with the pain. I helped her dress, and this afternoon she has been to the doctor. He will not give her cortisone, and presumably she suffers still. So the English Department party being given at this moment is something to which I must go alone. And rather than waste the two tickets we had for the theatre tonight for a play she had wanted to see, I shall drive back to Yale once I am home and deposit them to be collected by one of the Japanese. And the Christmas cards must now all be finished by me.

Wring out the old!

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

18 December 1965

Dearest Fido,

I must say I am a little worn out at the end of a day of Christmas letters, and altogether sympathize with you and your even greater responsibility for them. But I do manage at least to combine some of them with thank-you notes for offprints of scholarly articles or letters which other than the Christmas season would demand longer missives in reply. If only there were a little more time before Christmas I might, perhaps, be free.

Susan really was feeling miserable with her bursitis when I got home, though the doctor has given her some pills which may help. He had suggested to sleep the night in a chair, but I suggested instead that she only do this if the bed proved too uncomfortable. As it was she took some asperin and her pills and slept like a dead one even after I got up this morning and breakfasted alone. I went to the postoffice to mail the cards I managed to do at home last night, instead of the theatre, and stopped by the house to leave some stamps for her to use. She was watching the astronauts descent on the t.v. and I stopped to see the two unload and conveyed by helicopter to the aircraft carrier. They seemed wonderfully lively after their fortnight's travel, but it was perhaps only human that once in the water they did not want to wait another twenty minutes to have the carrier reach them. One watched things through a telephoto lens on the carrier which gave full and clear pictures from four and five miles distance, almost as extraordinary as the circumnavigations themselves. These astronauts are really superior people: their bodies, their quickness of response, their scientific awareness of all the implications of what they are doing. It is really no wonder that they have pushed out the fictional characters in s.f novels.

I did a few errands after that, bought a small t.v. for the cook, and a cover for the phonograph (your Christmas gift to me), and some candy canes for the tree and the grandchildren. And then to my office where I have poked steadily at the keys ever since.

A Christmas package from you was in the post (which I leave unopened until the 25th), as well as your letter of the 15th. You feel as I do that one ought to send each other appropriate greetings with each mail. And so I do, in case this is the last to reach you before the carollers. Poor Ines! The German government in the early '30's made each person pay his own taxes directly even though the cost of collection was sometimes greater than the tax itself. And they made even those who received war pensions and allowances for indigency, simply so the participation could be known. But don't Italians, except the poorest peasants, pay taxes? I'm sure they do, but that she as a child didn't know it.

I have been going through book catalogues and magazines too, choosing what seems interesting and tossing the rest out. I hadn't realised that Lawrence Durrell painted as well as wrote. But am passing up the chance to add one to the collection, at least sight unseen. And of course Gunther Grass paints. Perhaps Helen has one of his canvasses, for he is a professional painter.

Despite the bulk I am enclosing the page devoted to Maugham as obituary in the New York Times. Unless you want to keep the whole, you might send back the snippet on posthumous publication to add to my literary executorship files. Is the Frere any relation of Philip's?

I must hasten to get this in the post before the final collection.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

19 December 1965

Dearest Fido,

I work like a beaver at my desk this morning, as I did last
night at home, in the great struggle with Christmas. Last night I wrote
Margery and Stephen-Lewis from whom we had a card; to Sylva Norman in
answer to the letter which came when you were here; to Romaine about our
visit and her book (asking if she would be willing to let me try a London
firm); to Mme Herf in reply to her letter; and to several others abroad.
All of which I will take to the postoffice on my way home at noon, since
there no pickups until late in the day at nearby boxes. I am not sending
anything to Heydt since I really don't know his new address except through
you, and since he did not answer last spring when I wrote at length telling
about Susan. I think he wants to lead a new life, or may well have found
an attachment which satisfies him. After Dori I think he will revert, and
will not want to be reminded of that fiasco after all his brave statements.

I am not sure that the enclosed clippings will amuse you. But
they do amuse me, and perhaps you might slip them into a yellowback.
Actually there is an immense amount of cultural conflict and struggle
inherent in them. Not just between the Kennedy's and the Johnsons, or
between Texas and Europe, but the difference between high culture and
cow culture. Mrs Johnson wants to outdo Jacky Kennedy on the latter's
own terms in the arts, but her instincts like her husband's really turn
towards barbacues. One saw it in her conversations at the White House
Festival I attended, but I like her all the same.

The bursitis in Susan's shoulder is a little better and she
had another good night, but I did do the greenhouse watering of the hanging
pots for which she would have had to do too much lifting. Last night we
watched a couple of presentations of the gemini flights and landings,
and again I was a little breathless, especially at the pictures of the
two rockets playing with each other among the stars. The next four flights
are to be experiments in docking one to the other, so that they can exchange
personnel and thus enable the establishment of more or less permanent
watching platforms aloft. And also the effort to do much more walking in
space over wider areas.

The two grandchildren come for midday lunch, and will spend the
night with us while their mother sings in a concert in New York. I will take
them directly to school in the morning, which is far better for them (now they
are older) that for the parents to take them from their beds at midnight as
they used to do. Justus's comment is that there are ought to be a law against
the latter.

All love, and (cagatic) Christmas greetings,

Norman

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

Yesterday was cold but sunny, and in order to get the children out of the house we drove to the shore where I could leave a Christmas bonus check for the caretaker, take a look at our cottage and let the young run five times around it to use up energy.

The mail also included what I thought were three letters from you, but one turned out to be an equally welcome letter of greetings from Elsie. Do thank her greatly. In any event there were yours of the 16th and 17th, for which my thanks. Bad luck that you couldn't get the pullover for Petrie. But delighted that you had luck with data for the siege. Oman was the man we read at Oxford. By the way I rather think Marjorie must be right, and Mortimer knowing how poetic your prose can be probably assumes that as a distinguished novelist you must also be a distinguished poet. Obviously he doesn't care very much for poetry anyhow so why should he keep the names of poets in mind. I of course was mad about _Beowulf_ but thought it had the extra psychological advantage of pushing the beginnings of literature back, and not depending upon a blurred idea of Picts making rhymes. # I sent you the account of Mrs Robeson's death. I am still not quite sure about her husband, except that he seems to have had a number of psychiatric breakdowns. #I told you too about the letter from Islay. So had Downes, who wrote, "Ypu'd be _surprised_ as if I was confused [he knew it from before] at what a liveable pleasant (if huge) house the boys have made of that 94 room monstrosity. Hats off to them. And the gardens and Turkish nooks are divine."

Am not sure whether or not the Grieder ties have arrived, or did they and have I confused them with the ones you brought me? I will have to check with Susan. What did arrive and is unopened looked more like a calendar.

I think you would like Redlich, at least for the Turtle's sake. And indeed we have talked about the Trude story many times in the past. I simply reported to you not as news of her but as a sidelight on Redlich's knowledge of her.

We can try sometime to complete the Sitwell collections of the original siblings, but I doubt that it is indicated that we begin to add Reresby's books as well. But I shall of course, if you wish.

I have rushed this to get it into the post. Will then come back for a few minutes and see if I can't get another card or two out.

Norman

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

21 December 1965

Dearest Fido,

One becomes exhausted at the end of one of these pre-Christmas
days, I divide my time between trying to clear my desk of accumulated
letters of recommendation for fellowships, writing Christmas cards to
respond to unanswered friendly letters or gifts of books and manuscripts,
and hurriedly dashing off extra cards to the innumerable ones which come
in each mail from those I had not expected to hear from. I was amused
by the enclosed clipping in this morning's New York Times; you may be
too.

I forgot to say that yesterday's mail brought a letter from
Collins, not really reporting anything but his willingness to do a private
report of his friendship with Hilda and reporting that he had uncovered a
poem by her he had placed in the Outlook. I rather suspect he would have
been happy with a Christmas check as well as the card I sent him, but I
think for the moment it is better not to get him in the habit. I do not
envision him as a pensioner. Today's mail brought a poem from Erik White,
a memorial tribute to Eliot for which I thanked but which I cannot say I
admire. Mosee no reason why we should bother with either White or Collins
when we are in London in March. There is not time enough. Heydt's letter
said he had a house and a cat, wishes he could be a writer or a musician
or a teacher but will keep on with psychiatry. In some ways I think his
association with Hilda rather undid him, but he did do wonderfully well for
her and I shall always be grateful to him because of that.

The volume I ordered from John Maggs was *Cowboys and Colonels. A
Narrative of a Journey Across the Prairie and over the Black Hills* (London, c.
1888). "The extraordinary part about the volume is the illustrations on the
binding, which have nothing whatever to do with the book. The spine shows
a yacht sailing near an iceberg, and the front cover what I am sure must be an incide
in the Ashanti War, with British troops in red coats and sun helmets defending
themselves against hordes of Africans!" He may have more of a sense of humor
than I thought.

Today's mail also brought a ms letter by Mayne Reid I had ordered
from a catalogue, in which he sends a Christmas story for a Christmas issue.
One wonders what sort of Christmas story Mayne Reid would write. Perhaps of
a seduction behind the scenes in the stable at Bethlehem.

I called Dr German's office this morning about the letter which
Prutting had not received. They seemed vague in trying to find my letter to
Germanso I did it all over again via the telephone. Life is not easy with
so much repetition and double-checking.

Two letters came from you today. One as of the 18th, the other of
the 19th, with clippings. No you are not a writer for children, but it is
a compliment that children want to read you. It is a way of helping them to
grow up. And they are right in speaking of your "imaginative gold." Even a
child can recognize gold. # The Christmas card ads continue to astonish me;
but how I envy Lady Hutchison and Christabel Lady Aberconway for settling the

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

matter so simply. # Kenneth really does seem to flourish in his house of
many mansions. And how difficult a season it must be for Islay with his
Doris so ill.

I asked Susan about the ties. She smiled and said, yes the
package had come but she had squirreled it away lest my vanity and lust
snap the cords with which it was bound. Sorry, I spoke in good faith.
When I got home there was a package from Elsie. We did not open that either.
How kind of her to have remembered us. # Your gold collection of coins
will be impressive when Peney finishes with it. I agree about illustrated
books; they always come in the most awkward size. I looked again at the
bookstore at Giselle Freund's book. The best is of you and the several
appealing ones of Sylvia and Adrienne, separately or with Joyce or together
in the bookshop. Otherwise it is mostly an excuse to print her pictures
of Joyce and of Paris, which are good of course but not sacred icons. #
I suspect Anna Freud is so caught up in her work with children and the
psychology of law that she is glad to be out of responsibility for the
trust but pleased enough to remake contact with you. Had she not written
at all it might have seemed rude. I wonder what Glover's reaction has
been. You may hear from him too, but of course he is the one who is
pushed aside, as Anna was not. #On the whole I think better that you
should not worry yourself with a contribution to the unbook Memorial to
Nancy Cunard. In the end they never say anything. I had not noticed
Golding's *Hot Gates* but will be interested sometime to see what he says
about the plan for *Lord of the Flies*. I am still a little irked that he
wouldn't write even to say no to therolier. # We do not have the
Greenland book which O.B. sent in the collection. So unless you think it
is better with Hilda Quick it would make a fine addition.

I had rather run down on letters of recommendation, but perhaps
there is time for just one more before I have to go home. And there are a
number now typed which have to be proofread and signed.

Norman

22 December 1965

Dearest Fido,

The mails were a little lighter today, and all the more so
because there was nothing in it from you. But I have been busy enough,
God knows. And with some success, I hope. I have just made up a little
pile of letters that must be officially answered tomorrow, and meanwhile
keep pounding out shorter notes; as, for example, I discovered I had
never answered a nice letter from Dorothy Dudley about Nor-Nour which
came in the midst of Susan's hospitalization. It didn't really have to
be answered, I suppose, but it was nice to write at least a short note
on a Christmas card and thank her for it. I had a card too today from
Hilda Quick and have written her. But best of all I have finished all
eight Guggenheim recommendations, written the Air Force Academy in Colorado
which had asked for a long reply about American Studies; written the
University of New Mexico in a long overdue reply to their proposal
that foreign students in American Studies from abroad go to them in
the summer to have the experience of the Southwest and (on more practical
grounds for them) teach summer school at a low salary.

I lunched with the Librarian and went over various matters
with him. And then to the bank for money to use on the 26th when I go
to Chicago for the Modern Language Association co vention; then to the
travel agency where I picked up my air and limousine tickets; and finally
to a shop where I bought more Christmas cards to use for the J apanese
(really New Year's cards) and two little table gifts for the grandchildren
to give them at dinner for Susan's 61st birthday on the 29th.

Not really an inspiring day, I must say!

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

25 December 1965

Dearest Fido,

Improbable as the date on this letter must seem, I really am writing you on it. The tree and the plum pudding are over, the grandchildren and their parents have left for New York; Lizzie has gone back to her apartment; and I have returned Susan's Aunt Kathryn and her presents and a bird in a cage to her house in the suburbs. And, because it has been pouring rain all day, I took the cook to her daughter's home on my way to the office to put my papers together for my trip tomorrow to Chicago. To do so I had to file the accumulated letters in my out-box in order to find the invitations to Chicago parties and the dossiers of people who want to see me at one or time or another at the meeting.

I opened your package of Grieders with blessings on you for them, and will choose at least one to wear on my trip. Susan was delighted with her blouse, and we were both immensely pleased and were grateful for Elsie's calendar. And I of course am constantly happy with my gramaphone, which we used again today in order to hear a phonograph recording of a composition for mezzo-soprano and four bassoons which had Hilda's Epitaph as its finale. It was odd in a sense that this year, your big present to me was in another room than the tree, mine to Susan was her new bathroom upstairs, and Susan's to me was a wonderful new metal case for storing wine, which was already installed in the cellar.

Forgive me for not making this longer. But I must go back to the house, not wanting to do so however without sending you my thanks and my love,

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

a caterer prepare the meal and send in a maid to help Catherine serve and then wash up, so the burden was not overpowering for her. She rather disliked feeling she could not swing it by herself, but this would have been impossible with Lizzie and the four Addisses there to fill the table and soil the dishes. After they had left we spent time while I opened cards that had come at home as well as at the office, looked into the books sent by the Schaffners--novels for me and cookbooks for Susan--and watched tv for a bit. Everything is now color on t.v., so next year perhaps we will have to convert to that. I would give our old set to the Addisses, but am not overly keen on having the two grandchildren glued to the screen. As it is, Justus is having remedial lessons in reading--or rather speedup lessons--since he spends all his time not on books but on electrical switches which he wires in new combinations.

We roared with laughter at this year's crop of Christmas greetings by newspaper. It has become more traditional than the pantomimes.

I shall have to work slowly at your letters, but they did give me immense pleasure and the sense of being with you. Your orange football was obviously an immense success and deserves its own history from the moment it emerged under your arm until its recipients began to clobber themselves as a climax to Noel. #As to French cuisine in the White House, I daresay the Texas cook ought to keep the Johnsons happy in their own nook of the capital, but I do think there may be something about a steady diet of barbacue for state dinners. #Thanks to the new gramaphone you gave me as my present we have been having rather a thing of listening to the various records that were given us on the strength of our being able at last to play something decently. I hardly realized how old-fashioned and out of date I had become by sticking to the old machine. We had had absolutely nothing in stereo since we lacked the equipment for playing it.

I agree that it is awfully dangerous to adopt an infant, and my father was always dead set against it. In my sister's case it didn't work out well in terms of what they developed into. But psychologically for her it was a godsend, and one hopes it will be the same for Oonagh. For many there is an absolute craving for the fact as well as the symbol, and a certain type of woman is cut off from the tribe by being chickless.

I think probably better not to order another copy of the Joyce in Paris, though I am sorry not to have your photograph not recalling that you had kept a copy of the original yourself. As for Pointed Roofs in French however I should be most grateful if you could ask Saillet to have a copy sent me to go with D.R.'s collection in the Library. It most certainly should be included.

Must pick up and run for the house, since this is Thursday and Catherine's day out. So I take Susan and another couple to Mory's for dinner, this being still vacation week at Yale and ladies permitted in the monastery.

All love as always,

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

31 December 1965

Dearest Fido,

I am about to tear December from the calendar over my desk and
toss it and the year into the waste basket. Not all of it certainly has been
bad, but a lot of it could well have been done without. As usual, this last
day has been spent at the desk with correspondence, and perhaps when I put
things together and file what has been done I will feel slightly relieved.

There was no letter from you today, so that because of the 1st
on Saturday I shall have to wait until Monday. But having some of the last
group still to answer this may be just as well. Today's mail did bring
greetings from Mme Herf, with a shower of silver stars that fell over me as
I opened it, and a very warm greeting also inside. Then a letter from Eric
White telling of his wife's broken elbow and the postponement of their holiday
and his desire to come to Yale in the fall to lecture on Stravinsky, or the
work of the Arts Council, or what he calls "contemporary English poets (based
on my own personal anthology of manuscript poems)". I think the last was what
he gave a few years ago when he was over. At least he says he has written to
someone else about it, so I will let Mr Someone-else take care of the matter.
There was a pleasant letter also from Melitta rejoicing in warm water for the
first time since she moved back into her house. She was obviously pleased to
have been written to. At heart I suspect she yearns for other friends than her
Jamaicans. And a greeting card from O.B. and Max.

At long last I have tracked down two of the books that Catha was
missing in her collection of her father. They were quoted to me and I have asked
them to be sent: the Remy de Gourmont and the American edition of Portrait of a
Geierus. I will send them on to her when they arrive. At least some of the other
lacunae I should eventually be able to fill but it seems more difficult than I
had thought. And a nice letter from the Brigadier saying he was sending a book
on Cornish shipwrecks. You probably know it.

A good part of the morning went into balancing my check book and
paying a few early bills, always a sobering affair but at least a desk-cleaning
one.

One letter came yesterday which I must answer tomorrow, in which a
friend explained that he was doing a book on lady patrons of literature and wanted
to know what he could say about you. My answer will be, "Say nothing." That is,
unless you would like, as you deserve, to be included. The letter was a perfectly
polite and proper letter, and I think he will understand.

To go back to your earlier letters, as of the 23rd. I am delighted
that Beney would like a summer suit. And this will be a good chance to get one
across. But why not let me know what it will cost before paying for it. Summer
weight may cost otherwise than winter, though certainly not more. I can have the
coat sleeves adjusted or leave unfinished as with the trousers. The customs will
simply think I am a characteristically odd American. You never did say what his
reaction was to the suggestion that he be a little bolder with my portfolio and
parallel some of your ventures with my own. # I was glad that Ninon Hesse seemed
more content; you may perhaps want to pop to Lugano some weekend now that it is
no longer necessary to dry tears. # I smiled a little at the grammar though not the
sense of your remark. "Yes, McAlmon paid a great deal out for Carnevali. But like
yourself it was too much a mental case." I didn't think I was in that bad shape!

2

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

#It was stupid of me not to have recognized Mollie Dobson. Brimmell will think I am daft. # The different mince pies as ritual was new to me. But liking mince pie I found the idea attractive. # No duplicates amongst the Grieder ties, and indeed I took both new ones with me to Chicago where they were specifically admired. #For once, I gather, all our Christmas bundles had arrived for the sacred festival. It pleased me to think of you alone with them, almost as though we were talking. Save that the books were more coherent I'm sure, than my conversation would have been. #And it pleased me to have turned your course towards Barnes and Noble. I fear we shall never get you out of there on later trips. At least Wardship made a good beginning. #And glad about The Kings Friends which did seem very much down your alley. When it comes to finding books for you I first pray and then grope. Sometimes it works. #The young man Folsom who did the second Henty lecture was in a bad motor accident early this morning, his car skidded 90 feet the police say (and he must have been driving too fast after a party), then struck a parked car and he is in the hospital with a concussion. #As to the other book on Gawain I can't believe it to be as good as Marie's, but thought it might have an odd fact or two of interest. # Your description of Ines and her bussing was a delight. #Packages without cards are a nuisance. Could they possibly be something I had had sent to you lazily without wrapping?

I enclose a clipping as of the Chicago meeting which I thought might amuse you. I cut to save weight, but if put together the reverse is still complete. All this just to keep you in touch with your old hobby.

Sorry I can't welcome in the New Year at your side. But we have watched a good deal of it out together.

All love as always,

Norman

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

1 January 1966

Dearest Fido,

The first letter of a new year! But I have been slogging away on this first day as though it were no holiday at all. Writing more letters of recommendation. More pleasureably, a letter to Krogh (at last) thanking for the report on Brattahlid, and trying to sound a little the possibilities of our getting out to Greenland this summer. if everything is well along with the restoration. Then, less pleasureably, paying some more bills which arrived yesterday at the house. And so it has gone.

Last night we accepted an invitation to dinner at the home of prof. Lewis, and then waited to watch the New Year in. It was pleasant and fortunately there were no other guests so the conversation could actually make sense. But both Susan and I have been a little tired today as a consequence. This being a holiday for Catherine, we ate a leftover-Turkey sandwich and then went to her mother's house at the shore so as to go over the furnishings and put markers on what we would at least like to try to get. If only one sister has thus marked it goes to her automatically; if more than one, then lots are drawn. Each is charged with the estate valuation of the item as against her share of the total inheritance. It isn't a bad way of managing. The thermometer has been at 60°F, a record breaker for the day, so the house was not too chilly. A little heat is kept on anyhow.

And so then back to the office for a last chore or two and the chance to write you. It is too late for the mailman to collect from the box, this being a holiday. So I shall drive by the postoffice and hope to save a day or two in your getting my New Year's Day love,

NORMAN

NORMAN

HOLMES

PEARSON

231 HGS

YALE UNIVERSITY

NEW HAVEN • CONN

2 January 1966

Dearest Fido,

I am turning into a t.v. football buff I am afraid. Last
night Susan and I watched the Orange Bowl game in Miami between the
3rd and 4th ranking college football teams. And this early afternoon
we plan to watch the game for the American professional football
championship. We must try to watch one together with you when you
come over. Actually, although one misses the excitement of the crowds,
one can actually see the game better by means of the t.v. cameras.

You will be glad not to be in New York just now, with
all subways and buses on strike. The rather mad union leader has
flouted court orders not to call a strike, and threatens or rather
predicts a month long strike. The city will be paralyzed, and one
shudders to think of the loss to business as well as the inconvenience.
I am not anti-union by any means, but it is frightening to see how
one comparatively small union (already more highly paid than any
similar union in the country) can catch a metropolis by the throat.
Fortunately Helen can walk to work. There will be taxis of course,
but how one will have to kneel and pray in line to get one!

A good part of the morning has gone into filing. I
dislike doing it so much myself that I can't wonder that any secretary
hates it equally. The new one pretends that she hasn't quite
got on to the system and wants me to stand over her for each item,
waiting while she runs to insert it. But I suppose this will save
the chaos you found in the Bryher Archives.

I have done a few letters too, the chief one being to the
lady guide we had in Athens who sent us some pictures for Christmas
and asks for the loan of $1,200 until October so they can license their
new car which stands without plates outside their little house. She
was a good guide but like many Greeks was also greedy. I remember when
she was so anxious to buy us tickets for the theatre and then came with
an extra expensive one for herself. And when we were starting off on
our tour, she came with her mother who was to ride all day with us so
that the mother could visit the father who was chef at a resort. But
the $1,200 is impossible quite apart from being impractical. I should
have worn a ragged coat last spring.

My desk does look a little better, I must say. So I have
something to be thankful for as the year begins.

I write this note in the morning, so that I need not run
down to the postoffice this afternoon since the football game will last
until after the collection outside the Graduate School.

All love as always for the new year. I begin to collect
little items for you to see when you come over, but enclose the account
of the Pope since we have both been interested in the role of the Church;

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

3 January 1965

Dearest Fido,

Altho the vacation isn't ended until Wednesday, students
are back, there is a faculty committee meeting scheduled at this moment
(I am waiting for the chairman to return, an Indian professor stopped
in at lunch time without warning, and I am ready for a tranquilizer.
What a heavenly refuge my office was from Thursday on, with my doors
closed and no one even walking in the hall outside. There was the
usual heavy mail this morning, because of the Saturday holiday, but
I could open nothing until after lunch.

At that stage came more callers and then a committee meeting,
and now it is 5:50. Your letters of the 29th and 30th were in the morning
mail. I wonder what papa thinks about the Aeschimann girl and the Tibetan.
Presumably in a tit-for-tat response they should baptize her in a Buddhist
temple. If she is to go directly to New Delhi, or rather if Needham doesn't
get out until March is she someone he should look up?

Romaine certainly ought to think of the convenience of us to
her rather than the luxury of a hotel. Two nights at most would be enough,
and I had even wondered if, flying in one day from London one might not
continue on the next day after lunch, so that we were in Switzerland that
night. There will be a limit of what one can say. The visit is chiefly a
gesture. But what are these extra manuscripts you tell her the publishers
would want? I can now report that one other turned down the idea of the
book even though I politely inferred I might be willing to give a little
in the way of subsidy. I still think they are wrong.

The Grieders you sent were not at all duplicates, and the only
thing near to it was when you brought in the fall one that had the same
pattern but a different color combination (but this was like one I had gotten
earlier) and I do not call this a duplicate.

Your coats seem to have been a huge success everywhere, and all
England and Switzerland will walk swathed in your image. I have noted
Beney's only quarter inch suggestion for a chance, which you said he would
check to make certain. I suspect this may not actually cost any more than
the one you bought, but if so will transfer the remainder to your account.

Must run, taking a ms home with me to read tonight. All love as
always,

Norman

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

4 January 1966

Dearest Fido,

Rather than wait always until the end of the day and get caught short, as I usually do in my letters to you, I begin at the beginning, though I shall end as always at the end. Last night I spent quietly at home, which was a blessing: reading various pamphlets that had come to the office during the day, finally putting into order the various medical bills for Susan during her long illness so that I can try for insurance above what was given me at the hospital, and then beginning an interminably long typescript of a book on American artists in 19th-century Italy, which I am reading for the Yale Press. I fear the lady doesn't write very well, ate least to my nagging eye, when she creates sentences like:

"By 1870 Paris had overtaken Italy as the nexus of western art."

"Public figures were clad in Roman togas, or even unclad in busts...."

"But they wallowed in swaddling clothes."

However perhaps I shall pick up something useful to keep me from error with the Italian notebooks.

Both a letter and one of two bundles of books came from Brimmetl yesterday. His Christmas card was one 66 three that Molly Dobson had designed to publish in aid of the funds of the Hastings Old Town Preservation Society. He apparently is active in this, and has bought a Regency House into which his income for the past two years has gone for restoration. Spring term for most schools, he says, ends about 25th March so that Mervyn should be there. I hadn't realized his school was the prep school for Eton. His bundle of books had a Collingwood (AN OCEAN CHASE), two by Fenn (THE WEATHERCOCK, BEING THE ADVENTURES OF A BOY WITH A BIAS; and PLANTER JACK, OR THE CINNAMON GARDEN) and Mayne Reid's THE TIGER-HUNTER, a translation from the French. So we move along. He is anxious I should write to Ballantyne's daughter.

Enough for the present. I shall write later in the day.

----- Two letters from you in this afternoon's post: one on the 31st and the other your New Year's Day epistle. We have been waging The War of Correspondences together. The worst is, my notes bring replies asking for replies. I wait for the wheel to slow its spinning. Elsie's new rugs must be very handsome. Actually Persians are coming back in again. We have always liked them, and at one time had some good ones --"for the wall" as people say. But they are almost worn out, so I can appreciate that Tigerli must mind his P's and claws. A few cards still come in, mostly from Japan and India. Glad my letter (note, rather) from Chicago arrived. It was a meager fare for you. And how my nose tingles for the Greenland survey. And how pleased I was with the defense of the space program, chiefly because it so admirably summed up what I had not comprehended.

All love,

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

6 January 1966

Dearest Fido,

A sluggish day -- a cold drizzling rain outside, with
dampness settling on the soul. I began by going to the Personnel Office
for guidance in what could be claimed against the insurance company
for the health insurance I carry. It seemed to me better to wait until
Susan was reasonably well again rather than to dribble in monthly
claims. Except for the practical nurse's costs I can get nearly 80%
of the rest, which would or could be about two thousand. Alas the
practical nurse was paid nearly $3,000 which they won't allow. But
I hope I can claim this on my income tax. The Office was most
helpful, but later today I discover the doctor prefers to call it
two accidents rather than one, so I must pick up another form before
taking it to him to fill out.

Afterwards I went to the savings and checking bank, to
deposit the welcome arrival from W and a few dividends that had come
in, and also to have added last year's interest, to yours, Hilda's
and my own.

Since then I have been chiefly slogging my way through
more pages of the ms book on American sculptors in 19th century Italy.
A rather pedestrian performance tho she has done admirable researching
of facts. The variant issue of the 2nd edition of THE ELDER BROTHER
came, and it is a good clean copy, a little trimmed but not too badly
so. I think you will like it. Your letter of the 4th also came, and
I am glad to have Mme Beney confirm that only the sleeve length needs
changing. Mory's is primarily for me, except on football weekends and
during the holidays when women are allowed in at night. It is a
private club, formerly a public house, and famous because of the Whiffen-
poof Song "To the tables down at Mory's...." We went once for lunch
before a football game, were crowded onto the end of a huge table and
had a wretched noisy meal. You would like it better on a Saturday night
when it is quieter. The food can be excellent.

Also a very nice letter from Vebaek. The wretches at the Co-op
never included my card, so the poor man wrote a thank-you letter to them.
I had asked if it arrived. Brother Volant guessed without the card; so
did the man in Julianahaab. But Melgaard apparently did not. In my Christ-
mas note I inquired, so I will perhaps hear. Vebek said he had not yet
heard how far the restoration at Brattahlid had progressed, so I gather
they have not made any very public announcement if at all. "Certainly," he
wrote, "you grand financial aid in the matter has been of the greatest
importance and will always be remembered with gratitude among Danish
archaeologists and historians, and I really hope this summer that you may
see some results of your aid." He is anxious to see you and us if we all
go out.

There is a new shortcut to Hartford opened, a fine highway
which cuts many minutes off the trip. So I went up and back speedily.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

7 January 1966

Dearest Fido,

Finally I have ploughed through the last foot of the ms
on American artists in Italy, and typed out a draft of my report for
the Yale Press. Alas, I don't think it is really for them. They go
in for sophisticated formal analysis in their art books; this is
simply the story of two lives. A lot of work has gone into the research,
it is only a pity that the result isn't more professional. But how
happy I am both to have this task accomplished. And also to learn that
I really did know at least the important facts already. You see there
was a double motive, related to the Italian notebooks.

The early afternoon went to the memorial service for Frank Bozyan, the university organist and a long time friend. He was only 66 but had a heavy heart attack last summer and then another just after Christmas. Susan joined me there, and so did younger Susan since he had been her instructor in organ for the years she was at the music school.

On the way to the funeral, I met the curator of maps who was
excited at the chance to buy for the Yale map collection a copy of the
first map printed in Greenland, by Rink at Godthaab whose shop we saw
when you and I visited there. I must say it really is a rather nice
idea to have the first known map of Greenland next to the first map of
Greenland printed in Greenland. I believe one other is known on this
side; presumably there are more in Denmark. The cost is not great,
less than the phonograph you gave me for Christmas. I may decide to
donate it as an arctic gesture.

A letter from Brother Volant, since I had written about an
enclosed Christmas check but forgotten to send it. I'm glad that for
once the supposed repipient really did ask whether it was intended. He
shivers outside in -30°F temperature, but says it is cosy by the fire.
Apparently more people are flying in during the winter, so he keeps busy
as the Museum except when he has to be the Mission cook.

After that paragraph was finished I was at last phoned by the
Provost's office for my appointment with him about American Studies matters
which had been delayed from 3:30 to 5:30. But I finish too late to do
anything but pack up and go home. Tomorrow I dedicate to correcting
undergraduate papers. Don't in your next reincarnation become a teacher.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

side of the desk. For me it was never terrifying to have school ended,
because first I was going to be a business man and did not dread it, and
then when I realised I preferred an academic life it was as a matter of
choice. Anyhow, in the end, I so prolonged my student life that I was
tired of it.

Your Marjorie Allen letter was excellent, but somehow she
does sound a little more schoolmistressly than scholarly, to judge from
her way of going about her research for her dissertation. I think at
heart she wanted a friend.

Many thanks for the Philby note. My curiosity never dies.

Saturday's mail had a nice letter from Pat who promises that
his father will see the doctor at the end of this month. And today's
mail had one from his father thanking for the end-of-the-year-check and
presenting a sturdy denunciation of Yale for employing the Staunton Lynd
who has just been off to Saigon. Lynd's mother used to teach at Sarah
Lawrence and was one of the Leftists who upset Horace's last years there.
I am sure Yale didn't know quite what it was in for when it hired him
from a small Negro school in the South. And he is certainly brilliant
if somewhat misguided in the vein and tradition of Thoreau and the 19th
century non-conformist we so diligently praise in classroom. Actually
I have never met Lynd.

It is really terrifying to see how a single morning's mail
piles one's desk with paper that must be answered. I hang on by my
teeth until the day when we meet at the Connaught or the Sesame. Do let
me know when you expect to arrive in England, since you once spoke of
getting there somewhat after we did. I will try to pile in as many
engagements as possible before your advent.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

12 January. 1966

Dearest Fido,

Alas, my graduate seminar lasted yesterday until 4, and I immediately had to go to an English Department meeting which dragged on until I left at 6, and even longer than that though I did not have to suffer any longer the interminable discussions about what books should be in particular undergraduate courses. I fear eyebrows were lifted when I rose to go, but some others rose too and like me became deserters. Quite apart from boredom as a reason, I was impelled by the necessity of dinner at the Lawn Club before the symphony concert with Susan. She, naturally enough, likes to get out o' occasionally at night. This evening after dinner we see a play, *The Deputy*.

But there was no chance therefore to write you. I am sorry. Nor was there a letter from you, although today's mail brought two to make up, as no mail from me can do. Yours were of the 9th and 10th.

Like yourself I grow suspicious of the advantages of school-
ing abroad at the preliminary level. Psychologically and academically
the experience never quite fits one for the higher schools in one's own
country. I do not like conformity. But I do very much care for trying
to put a child into a sense of ease. What would probably be better now
for the girl would be to return her to Lausanne to the university.

It is hard to know just what advice to give you about your visa.
So far as the American government is concerned I don't think they could
care less whether you use a British or an Swiss address so long as you
carry a British passport. But perhaps M. Coigny could advise as to the
possibility of a British address complicating your estate if anything
happened and there was a question of taxes on your will. That is, I
imagine your passport would have to be surrendered to Mlle Coigny. Would
the British say, she must really have considered herself a British resident
if she gave that as her address? I simply don't know.

Speaking of M. Coigny, did you ever get from him the document
conveying the books, or, rather, confirming that they had already been
conveyed. In the rush after your return from London you did not say more
than that you had copied things out, as before, by hand. I am curious as
to his reaction to the other suggestions I made only as suggestions. If
you did sign the conveyance perhaps that should be sent over to me by
post.

As to the cold, the thermometer has hovered close to 10°F, but
fortunately there has been little more than a sugaring of snow since the
beginning of winter. Snow is lovely to look at, but my feet get damp from
it.

I am more than usually grateful for your enclosure of the letter
from Chris in Greenland, for it explains the source of the Greenland
calendar I received at Christmas time in the mail. I admired the pictures
but thought it must have come from some one at the National Museum since
it contained no card and I did not, alas, notice that Chris had taken the

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

photographs originally. I shall write and thank him. Do you think he
would like a copy of the Vinland map, or would he for the sake of his
pupils prefer a picture book of another kind? I follow your advice on
the matter. I thought simply that the map might give the Greenlanders
an added sense of their own history. Incidentally I have decided to
give the Library the copy of the map of Disco Bay printed by Rink in
1859 at Godthaab, after his drawing in 1849! It is the first map of
any part of Greenland actually printed in Greenland itself.

I feel pleased that you are normally tucked back into your
routine again now that you and Elsie can Escale. And Tigerli must be
purr approval too.

The more one thinks about trying to work in Kenneth into this
spring's ausflug, the more difficult it becomes. Actually I do not
want to become exhausted by my vacation, nor do I want to cut down too
much on my visit to Kenwin. We had spoken, for example, of a little
visit to, was it Luzerne? Or Basel? Elsie is an incomparable guide
and I ought to keep adding to my knowledge of Switzerland. And Susan
I know is anxious to see the Roman background for the Wall. Some
holiday before too long I should like to see Paestum and Sicily, and
one could combine this with Cetagnola. I should not want simply to
walk through the 983 rooms of Kenneth's labarynth.

When I bought your recroding of Anglo-Saxon I had actually
searched for one done by my friend John Pope and by Kokeritz. But
couldn't find it. Now, after you speak of The Seafarer I have just
phoned Pope who tells me where I can get the Beowulf record and,
rather esp on my part, says that he has just a half hour ago returned
from recording all of The Seafarer for a record that will be out in
six months. So you will have to be my patent darling Fido and not
whimper in your kennel, for when it is released he promises to tell
me instanter. He has also just finished a new text with glosses for
the same poem for his classes. On your next visit perhaps I can per-
suade him to give you a special reading. Now don't say, that I, in
as good an American manner as I can assume, do not "try."

I have just finished correcting the last of the undergraduate
papers on hand -- two more are still due--and feel a great sense of
freedom. Freedom, that is, to get down to the task again of trying to
answer correspondence. Ten minutes and one mail is enough to put my
desk in absolute disarray.

It was most interesting to read the note about Lady Glendevon's
renunciation. I presume an income will or could be as good as capital,
and I gather the villa is itself a substantial item.

All love, as always,

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

Horace called it his pride, and even I who blunder into people's affairs
as a bull rolls through a china shop, can't coerce beyond a certain
measure. Though now I suspect it was not so much pride as fear which
kept him at home. And perhaps only an operation could have shown what
was wrong and must have been wrong for so long. No, don't protest, I
don't really feel guilty. Perhaps in my own pride I feel thwarted,
having spent so much effort in trying to help him solve the problem
and now finding a crisis occurring which might have been prevented. I
have no idea how long Horace will be hospitalized this time, nor whether
he will have a recuperative interval at home before the second surgery.
But if you can, why not drop him a letter occasionally, bright and cheery
because the doctors have at last got at the problem (and indeed one can
feel so) and the future will be cleared (which we hope it will be). But
by no means mention even the possibility of Intestinal Surgery II (to
make it seem like a War).

There are other things to write about, but I had only time
for this after the afternoon appointments. And there was no letter from
you this morning to be answered. Tomorrow I shall have a little
harvest of letters from you, like sunflower seeds scattered in the
snow for the starved birds.

All love as always,

Norman

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

14 January 1966

Dearest Fido,

I had a phone call from Patrick this morning to say that Horace had had a good night, and to report much of what I had already learned from my talk with Horace's physician. Fortunately they have told both Patrick and Marya about the second operation, which would take place about two months from now after a recuperation at home. Pat says they like the hospital, small as it is, and perhaps because it is as small as it is, and that Horace does too although still too weak to feel strongly one way or the other. Apparently he resisted the hospital because of fear up to the bitter end and only Marya's firm insistence plus the pain broke him down at the narrow squeak. I had called Marya twice at home last night, without getting an answer, and assumed she must have stayed at the hospital as it proved she did. She has stood up very well indeed under the strain, Pat says, and I had thought so, although she is now naturally utterly exhausted. After some discussion with Pat we decided it would make more sense for me not to go down tomorrow or Sunday, with the danger of tiring him, but to wait until next week when he would perhaps enjoy more of a true visit. I shall be phoning the physician again in a few minutes, as I promised, and will add a postscript if he says anything new. After, no before, my talk with Patrick I wrote Prutting so that is taken care of.

Your letter of the 11th arrived this morning. I am glad you like the idea of the Greenland map. It brings back memories of our trip to Godthaab # Poor Ines! I fear the tax is an obsession to her, but obviously is something she cannot understand. I told you of the former German practise of making everyone pay something. # You may well be right about Helen's not wanting to go to Berlin, and if her flu gives her an excuse, then so much the better. But at the moment Grass is obviously a feather, but temperamental enough to blow himself off of her cap. I noticed in the *Publishers Weekly* announcements for spring that her books take an increasingly large part of the Harcourt trade list.

I don't think I wrote you that Kurt's closest friend, Curt von Faber du Faur, had died in New Haven. He was a great collector of German baroque books, and his wife had put up the money for Pantheon in the beginning. The step son was Schabert, and the break was hard for Von Faber du Faur since it inevitably affected his relationship with Kurt on the open level. The two men, like my friend Waldemar Lessing, thrugh whom I first met them, were all hussars together from 1909 or so on until the end of the war, all of them once or in one way or another having had the necessary private means for an officership. After the war they all went to the universities, or at least von Faber and Lessing did. The former took a degree in German literature and set up as a rare book dealer before marrying as the fifth husband of a wealthy American woman. Lessing became an art dealer after a doctorate in the history of art. They had no money but took paying guests, which is where I entered the door. Alas, Lessing made the mistake of taking over the firm from the Jewish owner after the Nazis pushed the owner out. It was cold for Lessing after the war. Kurt

NORMAN
HOLMES
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231 HGS

of course went into publishing. Helen is careful to explain to me that
Kurt was wealthier than his first wife, which must have made him very
wealthy indeed, though her account is not quite that of the Lessings
on this point. These were all a special breed, like Walter, a species
that seems now extinct but was colorful.

You did not, understandably, mention my pre-Christmas note
that my reservations at the Connaught had been confirmed. I shall
have to start soon making plans as how best to use the days we will
be together in England. The Cleanth Brooks's have asked us for dinner
on the 18th and we have accepted although we can cancel if this con-
flicts with plans you may have made already. Originally you spoke
of coming by way of Ireland which would bring you to London only after
we had arrived. Naturally I hope you will be there to greet us, but
if not then we'll plan to get the Cambridge visit to Susan's sister in
before you arrive or while you are in the dentist's or the banker's
chair.

Hve just phoned Dr Edelstein's office and found he was home
ill. But I imagine there will have been a change since late morning when
Patrick called.

All love as always,

Norman

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

15 January 1966

Dearest Fido,

This is Saturday morning, before the mails have been sorted, and the beginning of a bill-paying, desk-cleaning day. Part of the clutter comes from little piles of papers to comment on to you. So I start, not with a concluded letter but only the beginning of one to which I can add during the day as new treasures emerge.

For example, I should inform you that your credit at the Co-op is now $131.28, so you can buy wildly.

O.B.'s *How to Make Your Own Confetti*, which I ordered to please him, has arrived and obviously did not take long to read. I speak a little English, French and German, plus a few words in Spanish, Italian and Japanese. But, alas, I fear I do not know enough of the appropriate equivalent of hog-Latin to catch all the illusions. It is like reading Genet in French. Some of course I do know and can get, but mostly these seem like giggly schoolboy jokes; and indeed on the whole I should say the book had more wit than poetry in it. And I am afraid that the blurb on the dustwrapper was more of a come-on than the text actually warranted. I shall write and congratulate him, but with my tongue kept decorously in my cheek.

I think I mentioned that I had at last had a letter, with enclosures, from Hodgson's nephew. He obviously is a nephew and promises to open up the really early years in a most fascinating way. And seems to have mss and relics. But I had hoped yesterday to have these papers (his notes) copied for you, and could not. So I wait for this until Monday. Or perhaps write you tomorrow when not much will have happened and then include the copies on Monday.

Several yellowbacks have arrived and been gone through, chiefly filled with my rather pedestrian daily bulletins, which I do not dare re-read but which I dutifully file, for they do make a possible reference for me later on. The envelope of clippings were a joy as always. Pup's account of the robbery was gloomy indeed, and she must feel as Susan did in losing what she had in the way of family jewelry. She may seem at times to want to brush away the ties but she does realize that she wants to have them handy. Valentine's thank-you letter was very nicely written; he has obviously matured and feels a comfortable relationship with you. So, I think, do they all. # Sachie seems well-out-of-it and at ease again. It would be hard not have been brushed by fear, and I suspect that his illness and recovery will help to push Edith's death more into the background. I hope so. Their trip sounds like fun, though I shall be sorry to miss him. Do tell him so, and tell him also that if he stops over in New York I should like nothing better than to pop into town to see him. # I was glad to read Mary Hotson's card; we wrote at Christmas but did not hear from them. She was no doubt too busy with her Sunday School children, and Leslie of course is engrossed with his new book. One normally heard of them through the Cleanth Brookses. But with them away there is no line of contact. # Pat's letters to you apparently shift back towards the literary in tone, and I have a hunch he is restless and would like to do translations again. I say translations because he doesn't seem driven towards either fiction or poetry, and his critical comments are

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

more genteel than analytical, or thematically perceptive. I sometimes wish that gentility didn't preoccupy him so much, and that he would plunge in rather than be bothered by the surrounding vulgarity of life. Even vulgarity can be exciting. # Interestingly, Jocelyn seems to open himself to you more than he once did. Not out of loneliness but with warmth towards a wise friend. Even in his remarks on his own homosexuality he is remarkably chaste.

The second bundle of Dusty Diamonds has arrived from Brimmell, with a couple of Ballantynes, a Mayne Reid, Nister's Holiday Annual for 1902 with a Henty story in it, and a new Henty title, *Do Your Duty*. A little quick checking with the list Blackie sent, now in the Indiana collection, I see this came out in 1900 as a separate printing from a story in *Yarns on the Beach*, but as a separate publication is not in the British Museum list. So at least it is a curiosity as well as an example of publishing practise. Such an odd cover, of a school boy reading (Henty?) to a somewhat older school girl (his sister?). I read the book last night: the tale of a waif adopted by an old sailor and his wife, who stole from pirates the iron box containing the secrets of the British fleet's attack on Denmark, under Nelson, and swam with it for hours to the Royal Navy who rewarded him with a commission, and took him along on the expedition. There with quickness of thought he took a boat and rowed to the Danish fort where he persuaded the Danish commander to surrender even though the Danes were beating the British. Nelson was so pleased with this that he adopted the same idea for the Danish high command, which also decided (thanks to the boy's suggestion) to surrender. But with the last shot of the war, the boy's leg was shot off, and I find it interesting how appealing the loss of a leg was to the British (if you remember the other book where this turned out luckily.) Harry was only 15, but as the Admiralty said to him: "We are about to take a course altogether without precedent. You will be continued on the full-pay list all your life, you will be promoted to the rank of lieutenant, three years hence to that of commander, and again in another three years to the rank of post captain." .... "Harry was so overcome with pleasure that he could only stammer a word or two of thanks." .... "The only further connection that Harry had with the sea was that when he was twenty-one he possessed the fastest yacht which sailed out of an English port. Later on he sat in Parliament, married, and to the end of his life declared that, after all, the luckiest point in his career was the cutting off of his leg by the last shot fired by the Danish batteries." Another reason for feeling lucky was that because of his amputation his true identity was discovered and he was adopted by a rich uncle. "For had this never happened he should not have known who he was, would never have met the wife whom he dearly loved, and would have passed his life as a miserable bachelor." Now, my dear Fido, as a good Freudian and a good Bulldog please explain the symbolism for the English of an amputated limp in terms of discovering one's true identity and establishing a happy sex life.

At this point, a good deal has been cleared from my desk. I stop the letter here and will pick up later in the day.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

Not much has been added, except letters to be posted, since I ended the last page. But I have in fact been making headway, and I am glad to say there are several square inches on my desk where the wood can be seen. And I have roughed out the drafts of several letters for the secretary to type on Monday, so fewer square inches are visible on hers. Poor woman, her husband has to be at work at 8:30 each morning and can't leave his office until 5 at night to pick her up about 5:15. So she puts in a full day, quite unlike Mrs Dingle.

The late morning mail brought yours of the 12th. I am sorry for Glover about his wife and the responsibility now of taking care of Ann. Interestingly we had a longish letter from Elsa Hansen who went out of her way to say that the second child was happy in her home but becoming more mongoloid in appearance, and that they both agreed (she was the objector) that it was far better to have put the child in a home from the beginning. #As I told you, it does seem better not to scrimp all along the way, and the boys and Downes will live longer than Romaine. So we skip Italy, and you join us in Nice for her sake or not as you decide. # It is cold here but still no snow. I am glad for the sake of the roads, but Susan weeps a little for the frozen feet of the shrubs, which snow would keep warm. # It will be less pleasant for Coutts to take over the payments to Herring, but much more practical since there will be no danger of a hiatus if anything happens to Bayliss. I had always worried a little about that. Perhaps when circumstances are such that I can go oftener and regularly to London, I might make the habit of dropping in on Herring to check up. But perhaps that would only over-encourage him. #I must look at Dorothy Richards book when I come across. I never read the first edition but know it is a sort of classic of its kind. #And Petrie does seem to be doing an excellent job. I like tracing back the Tines but hope she will not forget to get down all the memories of the old teachers before they shift gears.

I must rush downstairs to get this into the postbox before the last afternoon collection, which comes early this being a Saturday. I shall think of you and Elsie out foraging tomorrow for table scraps for Tigerli.

All love,
Norman

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

16 January 1966

Dearest Fido,

Not much to add to yesterday's letter, but I have waited until the end of the morning and the chance to phone Patrick whom I had tried to reach earlier in the morning without success. He tells me Horace seems to be recovering satisfactorily, still has occasional moments of fever but these pass away, and is well enough to be a little bored. He is still in the special recovery room where he can get extra attention, but has been taken off the critical list and is now classified as Satisfactory. He is being fed intravenously and will continue so for a while, but this is to be expected while the intestines have a change to regain some resiliency. Pat seemed a little tired, I thought. Why shouldn't he?

Last night we had Rene Wellek and his wife to dinner, and there was much learned talk on his part to me, while I nodded approval. This noon Susan's widowed aunt comes for dinner, and Lizzie also.

I thought you might be interested in the enclosed clipping from yesterday's *Times* about Mrs Hemingway and the memoir of her husband. Will you yellowback to me eventually? The complaint will be an interesting one for me to follow in terms of the revision of my article on literary exectorship which I must do one day. I doubt that she really can stop anything except direct quotation of his words. "Privacy" is a difficult matter to define legally. She would have better luck if the author had cast what he had to say in terms of a novel. Hitherto one has been able to stop novels but not nonfiction.

It was 60F when we got up late at 8 this morning, and they say it will not go above 15 or 16. I turned the heat on in my office for protection.

All love as always,

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

17 January 1966

Dearest Fido,

This has been rather a mad hatter sort of day, with much rushing and much interruption. So that now I have only ten minutes before Ingholt's executive meeting for the Connecticut Academy and after that a quick drive to Middletown to Wesleyan University for dinner and a talk by Edel. Did I tell you he has withdrawn from Wharton? From his manner in telling me I have the feeling that my evident disapproval made him somewhat uneasy. In between the meeting and the drive to Wesleyan I shall have to get to the garage to pick up the Oldsmobile. Yesterday afternoon we drove to Hartford and an old shimmy came back to the left rear wheel. I took it first to the regular garage this morning. Now it is at the tire shop where the trouble one hopes can be fixed. The car itself seems to be fine and in no danger of collapsing. Only 27,000 miles, and as the garage man said, he had had a Cadillac in that morning which had gone farther in less than a year.

The enclosures will tell you as much about Hodgson's nephew as I know. Do not bother (Ingholt just appeared and I shooed him away; then a graduate student also had to be shooed! Dear God!) to return them for I have the originals. He sent also a few fair copies of early Hodgson poems made for 'afe's mother. They would certainly not be enough to cover the cost of his trip over, I am fearful of how much demand there would be for lectures on Hodgson without much arranging, and it is obviously too late for anything this year. I suspect the best thing will be for me to speak to him personally in London, and perhaps sound out whether he would like to sell his entire collection, altho that isn't a primary matter. I do think on the other hand that his information on the early years would be invaluable, and reveal an immense amount that would otherwise be lost.

Forgive me for rushing in this way, but my time is up.

All love as always

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

18 January 1966

Dearest Fido,

Since I was rushed yesterday and will be again this afternoon, I begin the day with you. Alas, after lunch I have a two hour seminar followed immediately by what is usually a two hour departmental meeting. Poor Harald! I was sorry to have to leave his meeting yesterday before it was finished but otherwise I could not have picked up my car in time to leave for Wesleyan. The trouble with the car proved to be a defective inner shield to the lefthand rear tire. No trouble with the car itself which is as confident as ever.

The dinner and evening were pleasant. I took up my friend Wimsatt, the critic, and so had company. But the talk did not begin until nine, and we could not leave before eleven, and this is far too late for a working day at the beginning of a week.

I don't think I really answered your letter of the 13th which came yesterday, perhaps did not even acknowledge it. You certainly are having a winter I wish you would get one of those very efficient portable German units that warm air and then circulate it. Susan finds it wonderful. In summer it acts like a gentle fan. Better even than your heater in the library. As I think I wrote you I'll wait to take a look at Dorothy Richards book until I am with you at Kenwin. Until then I'll be up to my eyebrows with books for the National Award, not yet really begun. # Interesting that your friend Ansermoz has tackled the translation of Emily Dickinson; her rhyme and peculiar rhythm must be excessively difficult to get across.

This morning's mail brought yours of the 15th. Usually I have to wait until afternoon, but it is perhaps a holdover from this weekend. On Mondays I usually have two. You were smart not to venture in to Coigny. (By the way, the Addiss diary arrived on Saturday and she will be delighted to have it.) You are kind about Raper, and I will let you know when I have booked air passage. The only thing is we arrive, if as usual, about six or seven a.m., and this might be too early to expect or ask anyone to drive out. We could quite easily take the airport bus into town and then taxi to the Connaught, and thus let the poor man have a good night's sleep. We will certainly want some one to take us to Hastings, but when we go depends on when you arrive at London after Ireland. The earlier the better, of course. But do you think we need to engage a car before we get to London. We had no trouble before with two days or even a one day's notice. To wait might make things more flexible, in terms of the friends you want us to see. All we need to know is one day (ahead of our arrival--by which I mean the knowing) when we can go to Cambridge to see Susan's sister. But we do that by train. Otherwise we leave the schedule to your good judgment, remembering that we want to visit the Jacksons with you. #I must have missed the new accident to Kenwin's roof. What happened? I thought it had all been fixed last summer. # John Schaffner's letter was bustling with events but I wish he wouldn't use phrases like "Leaving the boys behind in charge of

NORMAN
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PEARSON

231 HGS

one of your young men friends." It sounds too much like "boy friend." Ernestine Evans must be in a bad way and a worry to them, but I leave her in their care.

To return to yesterday's enclosures. My chief interest in him is in relation to what is obviously important data about Hodgson's early years in London, for the nephew does seem to have in his hand a good deal that isn't otherwise known because of Hodgson's secretiveness about himself (I think he both liked the idea of secrets, but also wished [am I right in this?] to shuck off a commercial and perhaps bourgeois past after getting more and more into the company of poets. Obviously one must work in this field without involving Aurelia who might object at lifting the veil. As to his mss, what he sent were two or three copies of poems written out for Hodgson's mother, much as Edith did for you, and these are not so valuable as original manuscripts of the poems as first written. They are of and connected with the publication of the pamphlet EVE. Two or three hundred dollars are what I think they would be worth, though if he went to Sotheby he might get more. My idea would be to get a rough evaluation of them here for his sake. But I can't believe that Yale would enter into any such financial arrangement as he suggests. About the financial success of a lecture tour I have fears. However much we admire Hodgson's poetry it is not in vogue, and few at Yale would turn out though I could put up the money myself for an appearance here. In any event it is much too late for anything earlier than next Fall. So I suggest I see him in London, somewhere else than at the Connaught (which might give a wrong impression) and talk matters over rather than write about them. What do you think?

A really more serious problem is contained in the enclosed letter. One's first instinct of course is to shut the door in Moore's face. BUT.... because of Catha's relationship to Kershaw this seems to have become an official biography and it is perhaps unfair under the circumstances for us to appear uncooperative in an attempt to memorialize her father. Also, although I hate to say it, the more we try to shut them out the worse the implications will be to the public, as though an immense amount of evil were being wilfully concealed by us. I wish you or I had some actual statement from Catha about her wishes, but I suppose she doesn't know enough quite to understand the difficulties. The pictures are no real problem, I am perfectly willing to have them see and use what they want; although they would have to come here to see them. What is really at issue is the long correspondence from Aldington to Hilda, for it must be the fullest account of his life that exists. If so there could only be howls if one were refused access to them as official biographers, and this would do Hilda's reputation no good. One can't forget that she was always, paradoxically, fond of him or more, and might now that she has gone want to help him too. I am half tempted to say that Moore can see these If he comes to Yale, where there are other papers, not Hilda's related to Aldington, after of course I had been through them to remove what seemed best for him not to see. But I think that even if you were agreeable to this that I should discuss the matter with Perdita, for she too is highly involved and she is Hilda's daughter and only child. If it were only Moore involved it might be one thing. But with Catha and Kershaw and the official nature of the biography it becomes another.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

In any event I will not reply to Moore until I have heard from
you and talked with Perdita. And I hope you will feel you can write to
Catha to ask how she really feels. It is better for you to do this than
for me. Or should Catha come to Nice and see me there, or even fly to
London and see us together if you want to give her that extra trip. I
have always known this would eventually come up as a problem, and have
deliberately pushed it aside. If we did agree I wonder if I couldn't
stipulate that I must read the final manuscript of the biography and
at least have the privilege of protesting if necessary. Even so I doubt
that I could do more than appeal to Catha to put her foot down.

So there we are, if only we knew where this is.

All love,

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

21 January 1966

Dearest Fido,

Obviously it will take more than one letter to catch up. I am swirling a little and buffeted. I can't remember whether or not I wrote you on Wednesday but suspect not. I had thought I could write after lunch before going to the Mark Twain meeting in Hartford, but in came Inholdt with a pack of Academy troubles on his back and I had to push him out at 3 in order to be only a little late in Hartford. Then yesterday the morning was filled with appointment, the first two hours with a doctoral oral exam, then a visitor from California, and altho I might have begun writing at 5 I went to the gymnasium for steam and a massage. Last night I took Susan to the Graduates Club for a talk on entymology instead of to the Academy meeting (to Harald's dissapoint- ment. This afternoon I have to hear a prospective teacher lecture, and then go to a dinner for him at the Faculty Club. This may be a cloistered life, but far too much goes on in a cloister.

Let me try somehow to catch up first on your letters. Today's mail brought letters of the 18th and 19th(2). Wednesday morning I phoned Marya who said Horace continued to gain in health and in boredom. He is still in the "critical" room but not on the critical list. This is so he can get special attention and his intravenous feeding. He cannot read yet, so of course there is little to divert him. He does not care for the radio or t.v. so the hours are unbroken. I find both helpful at times. But she is pleased with the care the hospital gives him, and this is a good thing for her morale. I suppose I ought to try to drive down this weekend, but wish my desk were cleaner. #You ask about the dates for the spring trip. So far as I know they are the same as you took down in your notebook when we were here, but your time has been so hectic since you left here for London that I can't blame you for being bewildered. We plan to fly from Kennedy on the night of the 16th (traveling economy class) arriving in London early in the morning of the 17th, I having engaged our room at the Connaught for the night of the 16th so it will be free when we get there. I did this trick before and it worked beautifully. On Sunday the 27th we had planned to fly to Nice, leaving Nice early in the afternoon of the 28th for Geneva from which we will get one way or the other to Buriel if that is convenient for you. We can easily entrain for Lausanne and I can get a car in Lausanne to drive us on to you. We will take a plane from Geneva on Monday April 4th (since round trip family economy tickets do not permit weekend travel) arriving in Kennedy that afternoon. I note what you say about evenings in London, and we can do as seems best. But I daresay there are some we can get out of the way at night, like the Brookses and perhaps Silvia Hay whom you do not care that much about while you may have some of your ditto dames. And actually if time permits I would like to see a play or two which I know is not your cup of tea. But there will be evenings when perhaps we can join for dinner with people like Agnes or the Brigadier and Ethel if they come up. The two trips in question by car or train are to astings and to see the Jackson girls. These we must do together; while the one trip Susan and I might take is to Cambridge (by train) so that Susan can see her sister's house. I should be happy to see you Swiss friend at their Embassy if she wants to talk about American literature.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

When you had said you would go to Nice we had agreed to fly from there to Geneva, and we will stick to this in any event. Of trips in Switzerland Susan would like very much to see Avenches, and it would be fun to go to Bern. It was Bern of course I meant. Forgive my poor memory. Once we are at Kenwin, I shall want to see Benay and you had wanted me to meet M. Coigny and possibly go over matters with him. Then his sister naturally and anyone else who occurs to you. The orbid man? #I'd like very much to have the Powys book. He is a part of the picture, and I do not have it. #Very sorry about the Hotsons. I sometimes wonder what would happen to either if the other goes. #Nice of Miss Maishman to offer to bind the Grolier programs, and you might let her try for you since I have others to replace if necessary. But it will be hard actually to bind anything so thin; perhaps a slip case would be better. I was glad to see that John Maggs is picking up his attention. I don't know Willis the Pilot but it sounds like a good addition. The Swiss Family Robinson situation is as *ur* to the genre as any Jungian image close to the heart or other organs of man. #I know how you feel about pipes; they send shivers and I adore them. To their music I could dance my way over the heights of the Hebrides. #I wish I could say that the year's grace to 'slay' mother was truly good news. I can't help but feel the Year of the Horse will turn into a horse's laugh at what would have been wished for in the way of peace to both her and him. #An amusing letter from Perdita about her escape from the transit strike. I think they were smart to plan it this way.

Now to return to past letters which I think were not acknowledged, those of the 13th and 15th, then the 16th and 17th. The first of these I now see I have written about. And the 15th also, since I recall --to this I add that of the 16th, since I complete my train of thought it was not until a later one came in that I knew of the disaster to your roof. What bad luck you have had with it, but still it is better that you did what you did do. I note the check for $200.00 to help Horace's needs. But I will wait before cashing to see what may actually be necessary. I will go over these matters with Marya and Pat when I go. I do thank you for sending something against an immediate need. Because Horace is in the special care room (a better description of it than critical) the bill for trained special nurses will be immensely cut down.

I had a very nice letter from Printing an answer to mine, and enclose a copy for you to see. Destroy when you have read it, since I have the original. I am taking another copy to the Gregories. I want everything to be reasonably in order. That seems to be my chief function at the moment, not only for Horace but for the Mark Twain Memorial and the Connecticut Academy.

The latter becomes a kind of nightmare, with Harald and the new Secretary rather at odds (my sympathies are on Harald's side). She is an aggressive over-orderly executive type who makes snap decisions without much regard to the feelings of others (her goal is usually right, but not her tactics). Harald on the other hand is cautious and gentle and likes to thinks/ things over several times and reverse his conclusions. The last meeting I attended got nowhere since Harald could not lead the members towards any consensus. So I have to pick up.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

Now let me wander a little with various oddments that have accumulated. I was much amused to find the leading editorial in the *Gardner News* to be titled "Two Ancient Churches" and devoted to a discussion of the scrubbing of Westminster Abbey and the restoration of Thojodhilde's church. So the Danes must be doing some publicity releases on it but not enough so for the *News* to know that a local boy had anything to do with helping. My father would certainly have said I was insane; my mother would have been pleased.

I have had a fat letter from Pokross enclosing a copy of the trust instrument creating the Hans Sachs Trust, along with a list of securities and their market value as of 31 December 1965. The total comes to $47,887,50 He hopes that I will see him when I am next in Boston. I have to go up soon to return the books I borrowed for the Dusty Diamonds, and perhaps can do so then. But that may be difficult since I can return only at a weekend. It will probably be better simply to make a special trip there some day perhaps going by train so that I can read en route. I can charge this to the account here.

The special account meanwhile continues to grow and before long you will be able "to manage" as my mother used to define a certain range of income. "She manages" was a definite category. Above that is "comfortably off", which was where she included ourselves. Somewhat higher was "well-to-do" and above that was "rich." But in New England of the older type there were not many rich people, and we knew none.

More specifically, Random House sent me checks amounting to $2,029.14 so the last six months were not bad. The total of the special account, including 91.27 for the last quarter's interest was 9,764.28 (but this is before withdrawal for an appropriate share of last year's income tax, since I always wait until the following March when I have filed my returns to know what should come out). So the accumulated gross total is presently 11,793.42. The run down on royalties from Random House books is as follows:

Tribute to Freud 27 copies
Roman Wall 344
Players Boy 137
Gandharan Art 76
October 382
Beowulf 310
Gate to the Sea 192
Ruan 373

This is really very good indeed, and you must be one of the very few authors who has all his books in print and all selling.

All love as always

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

22 January 1966

Dearest Fido,

I can never finish even a Saturday at the office without wishing that a working day had more hours in it. But I do have an impressive stack of envelopes waiting to be stamped and put in the mailbox, as well as a number of drafts for Mrs Sherman to type out beautifully on Monday when she comes in. A dictaphone might be better but certain of the letters require more careful phrasing than I am likely to give as the disc spins.

There was no letter from you today, but I did so well yesterday that I can hardly complain. And we no longer have an afternoon delivery at the Graduate School so that the daily tree bears fewer fruits.

Islay wrote gayly about a Gandharan catalogue I had sent him from a show in New York. I send him what I can lay my hands on though I am not really sure how high his interest continues. I have the feeling that for the moment his photographic career has rather lapsed and that his time is taken up by Cetagnola and his emotions by the condition of his mother. He referred to the latter as a miraculous recovery, but I wonder. He wrote at some length about Graham Greene's troubles, and gave great praise to the latest novel as the best of all. It was sent me at Christmas by Viking, but Susan did not particularly take to it.

There was a card also from Coigny, for which please thank her and tell her much I liked it. Also arrived was *Cow-Boys and Colonels* which young Maggs sent after quoting it to me. You will be greatly amused. The book itself is an account of a journey over the Black Hills of the Dakotas, translated from the French by some one names William Conn. But the design on the cover is of English troops attacking a tribe of something like Maoris. Was it carelessness or deceit on the part of the publisher? At any rate it is a great oddity which is a real addition.

Part of the day has been spent in paying bills, and entereing the receipts for your royalties and a check for Hilda's account. The latter was for $37.50 so when I go to the bank all three accounts will be swelled a little, even my own.

Underneath a pile of letters was one from you as of the 14th which I had read when it arrived but on which I don't think I commented. You are quite right about the way education has taken over the function of the church. And in the States that of the family too. It is another reason why the life of a professor is so harried as he tries to fulfill too many roles.

*The Deputy* engrossed me rather more than I had expected, altho there were some aspects of the staging that annoyed me as distracting from the impact. (I have not read the play only seen it.) There was for example a champagne coller omnipresent on the papal throne, and little was gained by this. Nor was anything helped by having the churchmen wear Nazi boots beneath their cassocks. But the arguments were as strong as I could have wanted, and the perplexity of the clergy was more impressive than their venality.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

Isn't there something I can do about Tom Devison when I am in London?
I should be glad to look into the matter if I have all the facts from his
mother. So far as a guarantee is concerned I should be happy to give that
for him. I suspect they may fear what Miss Coigny has found about the young
in Switzerland. That too often they become simply stranded. And of course
I've told you about how the English boys naturally enough try to cadge their
way around the country by visiting acquaintances of acquaintances. Do let
me know about this.

Your story about the old lady from the Shetlands was most moving.
What a pity one could not have gotten to her in time!

I realise now that we have talked so much about our visit to England
and Kenwin that we have said nothing about your spring visit to Prutting.
Can you give me some idea of when this is likely to happen (at least the
month) so that I can plan accordingly. You must come of course and not
endanger the good results from Prutting thus far. Why not think of June
after your trip to the boys? That would be a new month for you, and I
should be reasonably free.

If you come earlier, perhaps even if you come then, Roysce Smith
is anxious to do a half-hour television interview with you, for broadcasting
on the local channel. It might be fun. He has taken over a program done
by a friend who recently died. It goes on for the rest of this year, and
perhaps will be renewed for next. They tape so there is no danger of catastrophe.
If one becomes frightened they simply start again.

I had planned to drive to Palisades tomorrow to see Pat and Marya and
then Horace, briefly. But the weatherman predicts a snowstorm eventually
turning into rain in mid afternoon, and if this proves to be so tomorrow I
shall not go. I could profitably spend the day at my desk again, for there
is a vast amount still undone and nothing like a telephoneless day in which
to work. On Tuesday I plan to go into New York, having been kept away by
duties before Christmas and the strike afterwards. I need to get a new pair
of shoes and run several errands.

Alas, on Monday night at Wesleyan some one dropped a cigar ash on my
shoulder and a large hole was burned in one of my best suits. However J Press
say they can raise the sleeve by lowering the cuff, and all will be well. But
is annoying and expensive to do. Taking my coat there to be mended I chose
the material for Beney's new suit, one I think he will like and one that would
please even me to wear. I am completely satisfied with it, and hope he will be.
It comes to 180.00 plus tax, and I will adjust when I know what the final amount
actually is. Splurging a little I ordered a new jacket for myself for summer,
to be worn with flannel trousers.

I must run now. We have the Weavers for dinner (the Cornishman) and an
Australian couple. He is a poet.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

24 January 1966

Dearest Fido,

As I feared, it did begin to snow during Saturday night. By morning it was thick enough for me to be kept at home, and by the time it slacked off in mid-afternoon the packs had slid off the roof into a pile in front of the garage door. Our man came with his jeep and ploughed it away, but since it began to snow again I decided to be sensible and stay put. So there was no chance for a letter to you, but there was time for me to spend profitably in the cellar where I managed to bring some order to the two storage cases, stacking the boxes of color slides properly and rearranging the extra copies of your and Hilda's books in a more economical fashion. Then I went through the many pamphlets we had brought back from the Orient, tossing out a good many as I went. Although they still need to be put in order, they are at least stashed away. I need one more blizzard and the cellar should look a good deal better.

Obviously I couldn't go to visit Horace. Perhaps it was as well. Last night Pat phoned to say that Horace had taken a turn for the worse and the doctors thought they would have to do the second operation today (Monday) although they feared to. To make matters worse Horace's new surgeon had developed mononucleosis and could no longer continue the case, so the substitute surgeon would be one who did not know the case from the earlier surgery. (A postcard today from Marya said that the surgeon had gone to Florida). Pat of course was deeply concerned, and wondered if they should consult anyone else. For the sake of his own consolation I suggested he might phone Prutting at home. Whether he did or not I don't know. Pat called my attention to the enclosed clipping from Saturday's paper, so I daresay Prutting was in a non-consultative frame of mind. In any event he could only have left things in the hands of the local physician.

Today early in the afternoon I phoned Dr Silverstein at his office. He said Horace had gone very much "down hill" and he was worried. But that another surgeon had been called in who felt they did not have to operate "just yet," and that Horace was a little better today. But I am frankly scared.

I had planned, indeed counted on, going to New York tomorrow, but instead will drive to see Horace. The doctor thought this would be a good thing if I could keep him from thinking that I was making a final visit. However when he found that Horace had known I would be coming he liked the idea. And I do it for Pat and Marya too, so they will not think I am unconcerned. The roads should be clear by then, and in any event I need not stay long. Pat will be staying home, I gather.

Your letter of the 20th was in the noon mail. You were brave to venture out on the ice for Tigerli. I hope Elsie will be properly appreciative. Ines will obviously be enjoying the vacation from strict supervision.

Horace's does. Forgive me for no more than this. And I doubt I can write tomorrow for I am going to go to New York after all. I decided that if I don't now I never will. And I must get a pair of shoes.

25 January 1966

Dearest Fido,

I am, or was, just back from my visit to Horace and then to Marya. I say "was" since I had hardly seated myself to write you (a departmental meeting of professors having been cancelled) before the Secretary of the Connecticut Academy phoned (she caught me on the street this morning as I was buying a flowering azalea to take to Marya, and filled my ears with her misunderstandings with Harald) to go over all the matters again. She is a determined lady paleontologist who bulls ahead with quick executive decisions, while Harald is a mild and indecisive but stubborn Scandinavian. In between the two is a lady typist-secretary to whom each give orders. I gather my role is that of a Gray-Lady nurse who goes around soothing feelings and explaining each to the other. I must say I am a little distressed to be adding the burdens of the Academy to the others I am shouldered with.

At that point Professor Lewis came in for a different sort of 20 minute interruption all of which only goes to show what I grab for a tranquilizer occasionally.

Three letters from you came today but I cannot possibly comment on them. Chiefly you ask about the dates for the flight to Nice etc., and I wrote you about these matters in my last but one, confirming the dates you noted down when you were here. Your suggested date for Hastings on Saturday and the Henty granddaughter on the following Monday or Tuesday sounds excellent. Or would it be a good idea to see the Jacksons on a Sunday? I leave entirely to you.

Horace was asleep when I came in, and I withdrew until assured by the nurse that it was all right to waken him. Returning I found him already awake, and he seemed pleased to see me. But how weak he was! And his arms were bruised from the intravenous feeding, and he could not lift his head. But as we spoke (I stayed 15 minutes) his interest rose, and he asked questions and talked softly. As I was about to leave however I did think he began to tire again. I spoke with the nurses and found that he had just that morning been taken off intravenous feeding and was supposed to dry solids for the first time. And had been put in a chair this morning for the first time. So this was real improvement. Interestingly, according to Marya it was Prutting who on the phone with Dr Edelstein suggested a different drug which had snapped him out of Sunday's relapse, and told Edelstein to take him off intravenous feeding and begin to get him up. Edelstein had said he didn't dare. Pat did call Prutting as I suggested; P was out but called later and then got in touch with Edelstein. So I think you have helped directly, by your arrangements with P.

Marya had her Princeton grandson Gregory visiting her between exams, and seemed in good spirits. She is just finishing an introduction to a new edition of Sara Teasdale's poetry which she made me read. She writes very nicely, sometimes I think her prose flows more easily than

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

26 January 1966

Dearest Fido,

I was able to catch the three o'clock train back to New Haven and thus have a few minutes at the office for my mail. It was like a snowdrift, and my desk looks worse than ever. I ought not to have gone to New York after taking yesterday for a visit to Horace, but I did desperately need shoes, to buy the equivalent of a Spinkery for us to give Susan's sister Jane who is remarrying on Friday after 18 years of widowhood since her husband shot himself, to find something as a gift to Susan for her anniversary, get an appraisal of the Hodgson mss sent by the nephew (they say $450, which would hardly be enough to serve as guarantee for his proposed trip), plus one or two other oddments. Fortunately I managed to finish them all, thanks to the fact that Madison Avenue is now one-way uptown, and Fifth one-way downtown which makes traffic flow faster.

Last night I took Susan to dinner at the Lawn Club and then to a concert by the Boston Symphony Orchestra; tonight we go first to a meeting of the cheap burials society and then, in dinner jackets, to the opening of a South American painting show at the Art Gallery. That is we will go, unless as predicted it snows, tho the snow is promised for later.

My general confusion is shown by the fact that I was supposed to meet my undergraduate seminar this afternoon, but thought it didn't meet until next week. Too bad they had to come to an empty room. Secretly I am glad I got my trip in after waiting from the first of last December.

Other letters will have to wait, but since yours of the 24th was waiting for me, let me reply to that and let the earlier ones go. I am surprised my longish letter hasn't arrived, in which I restated the dates as we established them when you were here. I have a room engaged at the Connaught for the night of the 16th so that it will be available for us when we arrive on the morning of the 17th. We have a dinner engagement with the Cleanth Brookses for the night of the 18th. At your suggestion we are to go to Hastings on Saturday the 19th and to see the Jacksons on the following Monday or Tuesday. It will be wonderful to see Ethel and the Brigadier any night except the 18th which is our only engagement separate from what you plan. But I don't see how I can see which of the three nights would be better for Ethel et ux unless I know when the three days are? It is late now and I must get home for supper. But tomorrow or the next day I will type out a schedule on a separate sheet of paper so that you can keep it at hand without having to refer back to the letters. Sorry that I seem to have made the schedule so confusing.

The arctic trip (antarctic, rather) sounds like immense fun.
If only one had the time!

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

27 January 1966

Dearest Fido,

A good part of the morning went to a visit from a trade editor from Scribner's who had written ahead to ask to see me on a visit to Yale. He is Duncan's editor and wanted to talk about the book on H.D. It is still in the making, and one wonders if it ever will be done. The editor was an exceptionally intelligent person, and I brought up the matter of an edition of Hilda's later longer poems with him. Since Scribners publishes Duncan, Creeley and others of that group he was interested, although it is possible I may have to make a special arrangement with them if indeed they want the book. He took off the manuscript with him to discuss in New York.

He took off Romaine's book too, although I doubt that he will go for it. However it was worth the chance and he was interested in it because I was. Once it has been at Scribner's it will have gone the rounds on this side. There were no subterfuges, which I think better, and he is not alarmed simply because others have refused it. I had had a letter from O.B. saying he would be glad to read it and see if anything came to his mind. But stressed that he was out of touch, so I thought it worth giving to Scribners first before mailing to him. I really do keep trying with her book, and some day the break will come.

One bit of news as from yesterday's trip to New York. Seven Gables Bookshop where I went for advice on the Hodgson nephew had uncovered a copy of the rare first edition (1858) of Martin Rattler I have it in a presentation copy as well as a regular copy of the 1859 edition (thought to be first by Sadleir in his bibliography), but thought it worthwhile to have a regularly bound cloth edition as well. So I bought it. A luxury, but we want the collection eventually to be complete and the best.

I agree that it is better not to have Catha in London and certainly not in Nice. I doubt that much can be done if indeed she is so close to Kershaw. It sounds like a true Freudian episode even if an unwitting one. Qua-analyst, I suspect that there may be an actual physical relationship between them, by which vicariously she both substitutes for Jaxque's inadequacy and destroys the taboos vis-a-vis R.A. to whom she must have felt almost like a wife. I doubt she realises all this, but analysis might well bring it into the open.

The news about Martin Delgano is very fine indeed, not simply that his relieves you of the burden but chiefly that it demonstrates his own ability. He most certainly owes his future to the chance you have given him.

There is no reason to worry about the sale of Random House. All management goes on as before. NBC wants it (a) to have access to their copyrighted material to use on tv, and (b) because of the future of mass communication use of books especially textbooks in the newly developing use of tv etc in teaching. Similarly IBM has bought out the textbook business of the Wesleyan University Press. Basically these bigger companies are holding companies.

I was interested in Marianne's letter. I wrote her several weeks

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

ago asking her to take part, or contribute to, a memorial meeting for Randall
Jarrell. But she has not answered and I do not want to chivvy her. Now that
she has become a national institution she really ought to have a secretary
to handle the run of her mail.

As to dates my letter seems at last to have reached you. I am
assuming that we go to Hastings on Saturday the 19th, and to see the Jacksons
on either the following Monday or Tuesday. I leave to you to arrange with
her. Will you write Mervyn and I to Brimmell, but shall we lunch on our own.
Or see Mervyn and battlefields in the morning and for lunch and Brimmell
afterwards? I do not have anything in particular to say to Brimmell, but
think it wise to see him. I leave completely to you and Ethel to settle the
day we see them in town. The Brigadier's book on Cornish shipwrecks arrived
today and I take home to read tonight. As to the visit to Cabrighethat is
better done up and back by train on a single day, and we will not try to
fix that date until Ethel is settled. O.B. I shall have to see because of
my letter and my telling him we would be over.

No, I see no reason for trying to crowd in Philip's mansion. It
would be amusing to see, but if one were to do anything I should of course
prefer Cetagnola.

Oh my, so much to be done!

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

28 January 1966

Dearest Fido,

Your letters of the 26th and 27th were in this noon's mail. For which my thanks, including especially those for your birthday cheque. I shall glide in robes of silk, or whatever seems to fit the appropriate season after I take inventory. Fortunately I need not give up my suit on which a cigarette scored a hole in one, since the tailor says he can lift it by reducing the hem. You are quite right of course that I hem and haw about economy and then urge others to extravagance, or become extravagant myself. But that is a Puritan inconsistency.

If Prutting says you needn't come over until Fall, that is fine and I can imagine much more convenient for you. October is always a good American, especially a New England month. And though we will miss your American ausflug at least we will be seeing you in March. I do hope the Sesame will let you stay on for your limit, so as to give me more time to see London with you, and see our friends in common. The only possible reason for shifting to a hotel would be to permit you to get more duty calls, but it would be an immense bore. We might all pick up and leave earlier than planned. Why not let me accompany you to the American Embassy when you get your visa? Then if vouching is needed I can vouch loudly. I will wait to hear if Devison is accepted at Cambridge. It rather looks as though some young men must have entered the States as tourists and then jumped ship, so to speak. Roysce Smith will be pleased to know you are willing to face the camera on t.v., and if they renew the contract in the Fall I know he will want you to. The clippings? They are meat and bread and caviar to me! I shall disown you if you discontinue them. If I do not comment it is because the daily letter usually is crowded into the ends of days, and I have too much to say. But that on the "Norse Settlement" is extraordinary. I hadn't seen a note on it anywhere in our papers. And I doubt that others had, for the word would have been brought to my ears, especially at Yale where Vinland looms in the background. I wish I had more details. I shall send a copy of it to Krogh at Copenhagen and get the Danish reaction. They may have heard more passed about in archaeological circles.

Odd that you ask about the sale of paperbacks from Random House. I myself was not sure whether these were or were not included. But also in the afternoon's mail was an account from Andre Schiffrin.... No, now that I get at it I can see I still haven't got all the data. His letter simply states that 76 copies of the paperback were returned, but I don't know how many were sold. The earlier statement seems to have to do only with hardbound. He says they are shifting the title to the Vintage series. He says only "I'm sorry that the initial sales have not been what we might have hoped and I trust they will improve."

Must dash now and dress to take Susan to a wedding reception and then dinner.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

29 January 1966

Dearest Fido,

I swear on my oath that despite my day's work at my desk, its surface looks worse than when I started this morning. But at least my check book has been balanced against the payment of first of the month bills, and I have managed a few more of the particularly hateful letters which obviously owe their delay to my reluctance to write them. Not hateful really, but boring. Too much of what goes across my desk is boring.

The wedding reception was like a crowd in a race park. One could hardly move, and after five minutes of desparation Susan and I sought shelter behind one of the tables, sat down, and were presently joined by others who followed our example. We went afterwards to dinner, at the Alexander Vietors (he did the introduction to the Vinland map). I showed him the Viking clipping you sent and he was much interested. The dinner was actually a pleasant one, for our friends the RPLEYS had come on from Washington for the wedding and I had a chance for a good talk with him about Smithsonian affairs.

There was no letter from you in the mails, so not even clippings to comment on. But I did get yesterday the enclosed letter from Collins (please return so I can answer), and I gather he has written you as well. The case develops rather as I had feared when I warned you to be careful. I gave him £10/-/- before, and will have to send him a little more for old times sake as for Hilda. But one can see what an unbridled future would be like, with constant demands on his part and a pathetic dependance on it. Perhaps this is rather hash on my part, for he can no longer be young and as we know the life of an older literary figure is more than difficult. I don't think I will tell him I am coming to London, at least not this time. Unless, that is, you want to see him, and we come to the Sesame. But not to the Connaught. That would give him inflated ideas.

The weatherman says we are in for another snowstorm tonight. But I hope to be able to get at least the morning in at the office. Mary de Racehiltz comes to New Haven today and we are asked to have her for dinner tomorrow noon, with Gallup. I really don't know that I have much to say, having stopped writing any of them over a year ago. So long as Yale has been negotiating for the Pound papers I've preferred to keep out of it.

Wish me well. I wish you all love as always,

Norman

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

30 January 1966

Dearest Fido,

It did snow last night, and still is, though by now it is nearly
rain. And it snowed several inches worth so that it was a little tricky getting
my car out of the garage. Thanks to the snow tires I did, and so have an extra
hour at the office before Gallup and Mary de R come at noon for me to take them
home for dinner.

I have just phoned Pat Gregory, and he seemed much more cheerful
about Horace's condition. Horace is now given a little meat and cereals,
is being up in a chair for a while each day, is fatigued so that he cannot
talk with any volume, but does seem to be a little better each day. Prutting
came out last Thursday night at 8 p.m. and gave Horace a head to toe checkup
and said he was much relieved by Horace's condition. I guess it was the
phoned-by-Prutting dosages of anti-biotics last Sunday that saved Horace's
life, and these are being continued. Prutting advises a conservative treatment,
letting Horace's own body do the work. Pat happened to be there when Prutting
came, and they all seem to like him immensely. Both Patrick and Marya keep
calling him Prooting? But is that the way Prutting himself calls it?

A yellowback came yesterday, which I read last night. In it was
a letter to you from Zanderbergen, telling about the 1966 yearbook with its
tribute to Doris. Ethel kindly sent Susan a copy for Christmas, which has
just arrived so I read it at once. I thought it was excellent, and of course
Susan was pleased to think that her namesake was a favorite. You've spoken
of Zanderbergen frequently of late, but I hadn't realised what a good friend
of Doris he had been.

Max Barsis seems well settled. I should think the only solution
for his costume book is just what he is doing: write it himself. Then a
rewrite man can put it into better prose perhaps, but for anyone else to start
from scratch requires too much expertise, and no expert wants to waste this
on another man's book. #I will have to look up Harper's with its article on
London literary coteries, altho it certainly doesn't affect me. # Melitta
really does continue to shift in her affections; now I think she hankers a
little for New York. #A nice letter from Islay; he had shared some of the
jokes with me in an earlier letter. # Jean Starr's letter seemed in better
spirits. Most of the letters in this yellowback were as of beginning December.

I was pleased and touched to have the enclosed from Ursidil, which
I thought you and perhaps Elsie might be interested in. I have thanked him,
but return it to me sometime in a yellowback. It might be nice if you mentioned
to him when you write next how pleased I was.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

31 January 1966

Dearest Fido,

It snowed yesterday, really snowed; and snowed and blew even harder farther north so it was perhaps not really surprising that Mrs Sherman called Susan from New Hampshire to say they were not trying to return from a visit to their son (a village minister) and so she would not be in the office today. As a result I have politely been answering the phone, and trying for calm in the midst of chaos.

I did come back to the office after noon dinner when I returned Gallup and Mary de R to the university. Came back because it gave me a chance actually to unpack the cases of Dusty Diamonds and put them back on the shelves. I did not try for alphabetical order, but the room looks tidier as the result. But we are definitely over-flowing. Nevertheless I ordered another Kingston title quoted me by Brimmell.

Your letters of the 27th and 28th came today. I was sorry about the lag in news about Horace, and of course would have wired if the worst had happened. But I waited each time to report until I had a fresh bulletin to convey. I might not have sent the clipping about Prutting to you had I not been sure Marya would mention it. Divorce laws in New York State are so medieval that one is forced into all sorts of manoeuvring. But Horace was right, of course, this hardly affects his medical skill where he does seem to have a magic touch. Horace will need funds, but I think it is better to wait until there are actual bills to pay, rather than to predict them. I tried the latter course at first with Gaylord and it simply didn't work. Marya couldn't keep books, and the extra hundred or so when I gave round sums disappeared into savings. Not out of any deceit, but with that squirrel instinct which Hilda also had to an extent.

Last night I worked again in the cellar and at last made the proper piles of your books and Hilda's to be sent to the British Museum, and of her things for the Library of Congress. I sent a copy of *Four Studies* also to the B.C for the sake of the record, plus two of the Japanese books. I have run out of the third.

John Maggs did finally reply to my note about his father, when he quoted a Cowboy book to me. But I suspect he is not very outgoing and is not socially easy. But, I agree, it is rather silly from a business point of view even if not a matter of decorum. Here one usually acknowledges con-dolences, except in the case of distraut widows.

What a frantic bore about your heater. I suspect you're in for a new installation. We had to come to it here after thirty years service. I suppose one can't expect more.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

1 February 1966

Dearest Fido,

This being a seminar afternoon, followed immediately by
a department meeting, I'll start the day with you and then pick up
perhaps with a word at the end if there is time for you. Or a letter.
I was a bit rushed yesterday afternoon, having sneaked off to the gymn
for steam and a massage and a retreat from answering the telephone in
Mrs Sherman's absence. She is here this morning, and with enough back-
log to keep her busy for a couple of days.

Last night I spent going through papers I had taken home,
looking at a few magazines, and going on with my reading for the
National Book Award. I was a little miffed by the release of the so-
called leading contenders (a publicity move) for which we had sent in
nominations but apparently

2 February 1966

I wonder if I shouldn't have dated this 1967? Time for you?
When I broke off the paragraph above it was because I had to go to the
Connecticut Academy office, four blocks away to see the secretary
and try to begin to manage the adjustment between Harald and the
scientific powerdrive. Back in the office the new visiting Indian
Professor and his wife were here. Then my seminar, then a committee
meeting. This morning nothing but students and attempts to clear
duties before I take the bus tomorrow morning for La Guardia and
the shuttle plane to Washington. And now it is six o'clock and I
must go home to dinner. I'll try to write from Washington, or on
Sunday when I get back. But on Sunday 110 applications for admission
to our graduate program will be on my desk waiting for me to go over.
Plus a pile of applications for senior fellowships in the Graduate
School at large.

Life IS hell!

But, still, all love as always -

Norman

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

3 February 1966

Dearest Fido,

Now that the Homage is out of the way I am frenzied
again by trying to read as many books as possible before the
meeting tomorrow in New York to vote on the National Book Award.
Actually I have read the chief contenders, but would like to be
sure I haven't omitted any that have unsuspected quality.

It was a good day in the post, since three letters
from you came: that of the 28th and two for the 1st. It is a
little frightening to think how soon the day of your flight to
Ireland approaches. Do write me from there if only for the sake
of the record. I phoned Harcourt this morning to arrange for an
appointment with Helen tomorrow only to find that she has flown
to Curacao until the 14th. So I shall have to wait to see her
until after my return in April. Her secretary said she had been
in bad health and then startled me by saying that Helen had
fallen last week and broken her wrist!

The letter from Rosemary was indeed a good one. She
has iron. Yes, of course we will be much happier to be staying
at Kenwin, and the matter of the baths does not matter. This
will be as it always has been, and neither of us are morning
bathers. I suggested the alternative only in case it seemed
easier and better to Elsie and yourself.

The matter of the itinerary and confusion of dates
should be settled now, or will have been when you got my letter
with the enclosed calendar. Alas, still no word from Susan's
sister who I suppose cannot imagine that we need to know, not
herself ever living on a very tight schedule. But if not to
Cambridge on the 20th Susan and I can pay our visit to Alice,
the old housekeeper. Or see Silvia Hay, Hodgson's old girl
friend, or his nephew. There is more than enough to keep us
busy.

So glad you are getting on with the heating. As
with us, thirty years was the absolute limit. And do start fresh.
There is no point continually to tinker. I suspect you will be
going more frequently to Ireland now that the Scillies do not
demand. Why not leave heavy shoes etc with Petrie so they can be
there for you?

I must have gotten the election day wrong. Somehow
I remembered it as being on the 21st.

Odd about the Olive Schreiner book, but why not take
and we can explain your interests more precisely. I suspect he is
a little vague at time, which is precisely what a bookdealer should
not be with his customers.

I doubt I shall have time to write tomorrow unless I
get a very early train back. I shall try to do one or two errands
besides going to the meeting. I am so seldom in New York.

meander to Madrid to see the Prado, or to Copenhagen to talk about Greenland, or Paris to walk in the Bois.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

4 February 1966

Dearest Fido,

Back from New York safely, with that bit out of the way. A rainy day, but I took the 9 o'clock and did a few postponed errands. E.g.: bought an inexpensive rain hat for torrents; it can be folded, and of a kind somehow not to be found in New Haven. This at Abercrombie Fitch. Then to buy myself a pair of black shoes. I had brought some brown ones the last time in New York but held back from these for thrift's sake. Common sense won out over thrift, as with your heating unit. Then to the Grolier Club to go through their file on Dusty Diamonds and pick out a letter or two which should have been sent back to me, plus arrange for a set of pictures of the show which I can take with me to show Phyllis Jackson and Brimmell, plus a precise list of what was in the showcases. The Librarian tells me that pleasure with the show grows in the passing of time. They now think it the show of the year. Then to the Gotham Book Mart with Catha's list of desiderata, and I was lucky enough to find five more--not all of them mint, but good enough I should think for her needs. As you would say, we do our best.

Then after that, it being past noon I went to the Princeton Club for the meeting of the committee. Francis Fergusson and Walter Kerr did not, after all, arrive with pointed daggers. Fergusson had asked me about the Jarrell evening and we were talking about that when Kerr arrived; then we shifted to the new head of the Yale Drama School (a job which Kerr, I am told, had been offered), and from that, after oysters and a main course, into the discussion itself. I was lead-off man and the vote in the end was as I suggested, though by agreement rather than leadership. I hope it will please you that it went to Janet Flanner. The runner-up was my colleague in American Studies here, R.W.B. Lewis, whose collection of essays was vigorous and original. Still we agreed that Genet's was sui generis, a really extraordinary picture of the culture of a nation in transition (you can see that I ended up by writing the citation), with a broad sweep and a fine pen. And I think we were moved too by the fact that this was her book; she was not likely to do another, and the recognition had to come now or never. Not that the prize is that much of a prize, but it does mean a deserved round of applause. All this is secret of course, and if you should whisper it to the mountains the echo would cross the Atlantic.

Your letter of the 2nd was at the office where I have stopped on my way home. There did seem to be mixed signals about the visit to Nice but I think we are set now. We fly to Nice from London on the 27th and from Nice to Geneva on the 29th. It would be nice from Nice if Nicholas could fetch us from Geneva on our arrival, but we can entrain if that seems better. The only hitch of course is that I have not heard from Romaine, and she may have to cancel at the last minute even if presently agreeable. But in that case I will make some other diversionary hop so that willy-nilly you will have your free Monday and we will not descend on you until the Tuesday. I might

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

6 February 1966

Dearest Fido,

I enclose my brief effort at home on Wednesday night to write
you, but from Washington there was nothing, alas. For which you must forgive
me. I took the 9 o'clock limousine from the Taft Thursday morning, got to
the hotel in Washington about one, and after lunch lay down and took a nap.
I was too tired for anything else. The plane trip down however was pleasant.
I ran into the husband of Alfred's daughter -- he is Assistant Attorney General
in charge of anti-trust cases-- , and since I had not seen either of them for
many years, and their children never, I went to their house for a visit between
6:15 and 7 that night. Also on the plane was my former student, Tom Wolfe--
who has had such a success with Kandy Colored, Tangerine Colored something or
other, which has made him the highest paid feature writer in the country. An
eccentric but very clever young man. After the visit to my niece's I had dinner
with some of the other members of the Committee whose meeting I was attending
and got to bed late. And, oh yes, in midafternoon when I woke up I went to
Dumbarton Oaks to see their superb Byzantine collection, and a newly mounted
small museum of pre-Columbian artifacts, as well as to stop in to see Bob Van
Nice who took us to the Haja Sophia in Istambul. He was working on the very
last of the descriptive drawings of the Sophia, which he proudly showed me.
This must have been the task now of nearly thirty years, a complete dedication
to a single building if ever there has been one. Once the drawings are
published he will turn to their description, the work of another five or six
years. He asked after you, and when we spoke of the Goughs expressed his
great admiration, and his wife's, of Mary Gough's book, quite the best there
is, he said.

Friday went completely to the meeting on American studies overseas.
Dinner and the evening I spent with my old friend and teacher Ralph Gabriel who
began American Studies here, and whom I had not seen since his retirement some
nine years ago. Saturday morning and early afternoon was meeting again, and then
I planed back to New Haven.

This morning I have spent paying bills and going over my desk. Now
I am involved in reading 80 applications for admission to the graduate school
program we give, plus the dossiers of candidates for the highest Sterling Fellow-
ships from all branches of the Graduate School.

I did try to phone Heydt, but could not reach him. I really didn't
have time for a visit.

Do thank Ines for his nice card of thanks. It pleased both Susan
and myself.

Two more letters were waiting for me in the pile on my desk. That
of the 1st. Sorry about the increase in postal rates. You may have to cut down
on enclosures, but I hope you won't on letters to me. You can tell us when to
expect you in early September. Any time after the beginning of the month would
be fine, altho I may have to duck away occasionally because of the beginning of
classes on the 15th. # It is bad luck too about the increasing repairs necessary
at Kenwin; we will indeed want to discuss this # Kenneth's letter sounded naturally
pleased at having his book finished. Altho Susan didn't care much for the newest
Graham Greene, the reviews have been very favorable. And I believe the films are
eager, as always, to get it. So Greene should be able to keep solvent. # Yours
of the 2nd was also here. Alan Searle should manage very nicely on what Willie M

2

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

left him, and since he is comparatively young I suspect the aged authors will have to wait some time for anything from the Royal Literary Fund. But generous of Maugham to leave them something. #Catha's letter does sound very much as though a real physical affair was on between her and Alister. "Alister couldn't leave his work so I went to him." She sounded like a bride. P.a. would be useful but I doubt that she will give it a chance, having now made up her mind. You are clever to sense her tone. One can't be very enthusiastic, but I doubt that one ought to criticise her. She would be desolated. And obviously there's no point in discussing it or the biography with her since he is so involved. We can go over that when I come. # I don't know anything about Mitchell, but a Clarendon imprint is always an accolade.

Susan says to tell Elsie she always likes anything Elsie prepares or arranges for. We both dote on cheese as on Swiss bread. The biftek tartare was only a once-a-year tidbit, but for eating out. Otherwise it is too expensive and wasteful, and I never clear my plate. #The Martin Rattler has arrived and is a fine copy. # Yes, arrange for O.B. to come to the bar at the Sesame, and Sunday might be an excellent time for this if convenient for him. #Earlier letters not commented on before I left were that of the 29th. Sad about the Glock, but I imagine it is still suited to your needs. Saturday, as I said, would be splendid for Melvyn. No, you must come along to Brimmell too. I won't be buying, I imagine, since that is as easy to do by mail. And his house is one of the restorations which would be interesting to you. He will be expecting you because of Mervyn. I leave that day and the Jackson ausflug entirely to your better judgement so far as schedules are concerned. #The 31st letter was mostly about Martin Delgano's fine effort (how much you have made possible for him) and the weather. Washington I might add was an absolute shambles, but I can speak of that later. Yours of the 30th was also in the backlog. Poor Helen, this is no time for her arthritis in Berlin. But it is important for her to keep her connections in West Germany.

I phone Patrick this morning. He had seen his father last night and found improvement though Horace is still very weak. He sits up an hour each day and reads a little then but otherwise simply lies in exhaustion. I discussed hospital bills and doctors', but none have been rendered. I will work through Patrick this time. He says Marya must come up for a checkup in New Haven within a fortnight. She is exhausted and apparently not in good condition, but this may be only a natural consequence rather than a relapse. However I stressed, as you would, the important of seeing her New Haven doctor. On the whole Pat was cheerful, simply because there was indeed improvement even though slight.

Must dash out and get this in the postbox before the last pickup in three minutes.

All love,otecie & be writing again

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

8 February 1966

Dearest Fido,

I didn't write yesterday. Having no chance to work at anything in the morning because of interruptions and tries of lament from one person or another in trouble, I spent yesterday afternoon and last night, plus most of this morning in going over the one-hundred-odd applications for admission to our graduate school program and four sets of essays and the like of persons who had been recommended for Sterling fellowships (the highest award for graduate students in their final year). Now I am glad to say they are done, at least I have done what is on hand, but there is still not much time for letters, since it is noon, I must lunch, and then prepare my afternoon seminar.

As you will have seen I did not enclose that preliminary letter with my last, but hope I will remember this time. I pick up the three letters since I did write you, at random. First that of the 3rd. What difficulties poor Rosemary is having. It would mean a lot I know, if you were to see her, and Susan and I would be happy to go along with you. And go inside I should like to meet her if she wants to see us. As to Rapers, I fear keeping the car all the time would be impossibly expensive. And perhaps even fill the three of us with a Puritan drive to keep from wasting him. I remember in Tokyo, when the ex Minister of Finance put a car and driver at our disposal for the first two weeks, the desk would ring up to say our driver was there, and I would sigh and wonder if I had to think of something to keep him busy. The last time, Rapers could supply one car or another if they knew the day ahead. #Yes, I shall have to work out something with Collins. Perhaps I am foolish in ducking seeing him. We might get him at the Sesame which is less velvety in his eyes than the Connaught. We might as well get it over with. Of the 4th: How nice of Miss Coigny to want to see us and to have me see her brother. Each would be important for different reasons. I do remember so pleasantly my visits and ill-starred conspiracies (for the electric typewriter) in her office, and that warm and congenial tea at her home. # You are absolutely right not to welcome interviewers for the sort of thing they seem to want. I can only applaud your decision. # Much better, I think, to keep Kenneth's letters with the archives He is part of the ensemble certainly. # Poor Chester, too. But really one can't do anything for him if he can't do anything for himself. # A nice letter from Mildred Brown. Friendship is an attractive fishing town (really a colony now), and we might stop there if you came early enough in September for a trip to Maine, with or without going so far as to see the Hotsons. (Not a peep out of them since November when they returned. Another of the 4th: Four more paperbacks have come, but I save to comment on until I have more leisure. This were about the 1st of January. It takes about three weeks for surface material to arrive. #I am delighted that Devison has his visa. Wouldn't he like to come up to New Haven and be shown Yale? I should be happy to have him, and presumably he will be touching New York en route to somewhere.

Now I must run for my sandwich.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

9 February 1966

Dearest Fido,

Let me make another one of my valiant efforts at a morning letter.
I wonder what will interrupt it? Something always does.

The morning's mail had yours of the 6th in it. I was enchanted by
the letter to the Times asking for measures to protect the public against
false advertising claims by politicians too. I should say, Bravo. Oh dear,
I really am sorry that Pup felt she should do anything else than plead ignor-
ance if Rita wanted to know whether you were offended. On the excuse and
basis of depth psychology I always say I don't really know. As for your way
of handling the matter, as you know I have always agreed that letting things
slide was the best. I don't know what to advise. A possibility would be to
say briefly that you had become more and more involved in your writing, and
that not any longer having the help of a secretary in business correspondence
you had been cutting down on the personal letters you wrote. Why say any more,
and this would be a good enough reason for not answering any answer she might
send. The truth is you don't have anything any longer in common, but why say
this or go into the details of the particular reasons for the breaking off.

I am pleased that the trip went well for Helen in Berlin, and it
is certainly important for her to keep her connections. She is doing better
than I feared without Kurt's help. As to the anti-American feeling this is
to be expected in the present impossible situation the country finds itself
in. But my impression is that the feeling is rather anti USA government than
against Americans as individuals. I am sure I don't know what the answer is,
times having changed so much that older imperialistic methods no longer seem
workable. I can't say I envy Johnson or his staff. The war is intensely unpopu-
lar on this side too, and this dismays a Johnson. I'll make an effort to see
Helen before we meet in London. The important thing of course is to have January
in the form you ideally want it to be, so that it will be timeless rather than
merely timely.

There has been nothing about the New Zealand questing in our papers.
It sounds exciting. Two new books have appeared which I wonder if you want me to
act on. One is about trips to the breeding rocks for birds in the North Atlantic.
Should I order a copy for Hilda Quick as from you? The other is a new book,
Images of American Living: Four Centuries of Architecture and Furniture as
Cultural Expression. Full of pictures and a good text, I should think. @$16.50.
For your Golden boy?

Have had a plaintive letter from Aurelia, enclosing pleas from
academics to walk in Rafe's footsteps and write about his Ohio years. I suspect
I may have to serve as middle-man for her as I did for Hilda. I can explain
perhaps better than she can.

Also a longish 11½cent airmail letter from John Maggs offering
a special copy of the life of Mayne Reid by the widow, for £3/10/- Though not
eagerly so, I shall order to reward his interest. I may be thawing him a
little, which would be for his own general p.a. good, I suspect.

2

Among notes made for letters to you, I find one which says to remind you to look in the New Yorker for 29 January where there is an account in Talk of the Town of a state visit to Marianne's new flat. I am glad you had sent a later letter from her by air, for the one enclosed in the yellowjacket seemed really fatigued and distraut. I think she is gradually losing ground. Did I thank you for the Chateau Riant material? I think I did. But did I ask you whether it was Kenneth who drew the POOL device for the stationery?

The final reminder is not quite so vividly present in my mind now as when I jotted it down after a trip to the gymnasium for a steam bath and massage to ease my tired bones. It does help! But this time in the colling room, perched on a marble slab with his knees to his chin was a familiar face but not an identified one. He greeted me warmly, and gradually I realised he was a Roman priest. Seated beside me on another slab was another naked body of a youngish man to whom, or which, I was introduced as Father Ryan. I should have felt easier if they had at least kept circular collars on, for somehow it was like visiting a convent where the nuns wore bikinis for their habits.

I jot at the yellowbacks. Do tell the Brigadier you want the pamhlet on Cornish wrecks. I haven't read it, but Susan did, cover to cover, with enthusiasm. It was good find. # I am leaving it to you to write Rose about Horace's illness. Did I tell you that he had spent his last days before his ambulance in again rewuiting and polishing the D.R.? But the deadline is near, and Marya said she and Pat would put it in final shape for him, even though a flaw or two (in his ambition) might still linger. # Miss Dudley's letter was intresting. I shall be eager to see her report. I take it the Museum on St Mary's is in good shape. A project I approve of. # A good letter from Mervyn. I leave the schedule of the day to you. # If Gough has a chance for a year at the School of Advanced Studies in Princeton, he should grab it, even if it means waiting a year. This is regarded as an accolade. # Georgia wrote sensibly about David Horner. I am glad she and Sachy understand the situation. But how unpleasant it must be. # The letter from Nikki was charming. He already has a true personality.

And now it is lunch time. Then I must prepare for my afternoon seminar, with a lecture by Thornton Wilder's brother at four. Penn Warren is giving a reading with commentary on the poems of Melville at the same time, and I fear that few will come to Amos--a long time friend because of our positions on the Editorial Board of the edition of Jonathan Edwards.

N O R M A N

H O L M E S

P E A R S O N

2 3 1 H G S

Y A L E U N I V E R S I T Y

N E W H A V E N · C O N N

9 February 1966 (2nd)

Dearest Fido,

I did go to the lecture and still have a moment before going home. Friday night I give an illustrated talk at the International Student Center for foreign students, on Charleston. And so tonight I must choose the slides I shall use.

Your letter of the 5th was in the noon mail. You are striking gold in mining the *Times*. What could be more Visa to Avalonish that "Into the Office" as described by the man when he tells about the visit of the Ministry of Labor! I do thank you. Otherwise I see your life as lingering in January even though the page on the calendar is torn off.

Then in the late afternoon mail was yours of the 7th. I really am sorry about that lapse of letters. Perhaps I am salving my conscience a little by writing twice today. I had not heard of the plan for a New York apartment for Horace and Marya but think it would make sense. I suspect also that they are now wedded to Prutting, artificial insemination notwithstanding. He really must have saved Horace's life. But home visits in New York by a doctor are expensive. Still, I rather think Prutting likes the idea of literary patients. It is like a lawyer setting Pound free for free. #I'm sorry about Rose. She seems gradually to weaken. #I really have nothing to say to Philip when I see him, and only keep the contact up for the sake of an emergency or in relation to British involvement in your affairs. So no need to think of him while he is here. I am sure he can find a bed to sleep in. # A very good idea to make an appointment in advance with M. Coigny. I am sure he must have a tight schedule, while I shall be free as a lark. # And a good idea too, I should think, trusting your judgment, to combine Avenche and Bern. Especially in the cold season of the year one won't want to walk the fields in Avenche, and the/ pansies most certainly will not be abloom in the gardens by the theatre.

A letter today from Pantheon in which Schiffrin says that 2,000 paperback copies of *Roman Wall* have been sold. They are now listing it also in the Vintage catalogue which should give another outlet of interest. This is modest so far as sales go, but only a beginning. He looks for a steady sale from now on.

I was touched today to have a note from Sammy Gloss and a package containing a group of photographs (professional) of George's Marvels. These were among Amy's things and are a duplicate of what Ady has. "Mother has recovered nicely from her bouts with the flu this winter," he writes, "although she still hasn't been able to get out due to the weather. She is beginning to be a bit restless now and wants to get out." It is rather a pity he can't take her to Florida for a change, but hair grows thicker in winter and has to be cut oftener I am sure.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

11 February 1966

Dearest Fido,

These seem to be rather rough days, and I could not write you yesterday. It was not a day without thought of you, for in the morning I made a special trip to the bank to deposit your royalty checks in the special account so they would begin drawing interest as of the 1st of the month. Today would have been too late for that. And I also finished the packages of your books for the British Museum, remembering your caveat not to send the American edition of _Artemis_, although some day there should be a copy available in England.

A good part of the day, except for appointments with the students was spent in further arrangements for the program in memory of Randall Jarrell, the poet and novelist (one of the Southern group) which Robert Penn Warren and Robert Lowell wanted staged and which we said we would arrange for at Yale. Like the memorial meeting for Hilda and Eliot. Apparently it becomes obligatory to ask this person and that among his admirers, so that if ever I knew an over-staffed assembly this will be it. John Berryman, Richard Eberhart, John Hollander, Stanley Kunitz, Robert Lowell, William Meredith, Adrienne Rich, Allen Tate, Peter Taylor, Warren and Richard Wilbur. Even his widow wants to be on it, and read his last (unpublished) poem. I shouldn't want to be if I were a widow, I must say! But oh the details to arrange, the promotion of the event and the logistics of entertainment. It will be a funeral march in the manner of the Folies Begere.

Last night, I spent finishing putting together as best I could my claim for medical insurance for Susan's two accidents. It will be very helpful if I can get something back, for it went into several thousands of dollars as you can imagine. What irritates me a little, however, was to discover that I erred in trying to save money by having a practical nurse for the house rather than three trained nurses. I thought the insurance company would applaud. But I could have had the three trained nurses for nothing (four to five times what the practical nurse cost), but they will not reimburse at all for the more economical move. Since she cost nearly three thousand, I will have to hope that I can deduct that as an expense on my income tax. I took the statements to the Yale office this morning.

Afterwards I began to take notes for my illustrated talk on Charleston tonight for the International Student Center. It brought back memories of my trip there with you.

This afternoon I spent from after lunch on at a committee meeting to award the Sterling Fellowships in the Graduate School. And tomorrow I must drive to Boston to return by hand-of-car the books I borrowed for the Dusty Diamonds from the Harvard professor. A long boring drive; I wish you were here to share it. But I shall be glad to get them off my hands. It being Saturday (the professor can receive them only on weekends) I cannot see Prokross, but perhaps can manage a trip before we go to London.

I had to go to the Co-op on an errand, and saw the book on rookeries I wrote you about. The nesting spots are all in the Canadian region above St Lawrence, so I doubt it will be published in England. Susan expressed interest in it, so I bought it and will send it to Hilda when Susan has finished. I should like to give her something anyhow. I do like her.

Your letter of the 8th came yesterday but too late for (no, there was no letter from me to be too late for!) I sympathize with you in matters of the weather. Suddenly it has shifted from 10° at night to 44, and the useful snow has almost disappeared. I wish it would keep at one level.

It is interesting that Rose has gotten on to Hesse. I agree, he suffers in translation and there is no real English equivalent for the particular tone he achieves. Thomas Mann was lucky in his translator, especially of those earlier rather ponderous works. In English they became lighter, and the tones shifted.

I enclose John Maggs's letter, as an indication of how he begins to open up. I suspect he may be rather a lonely person, who stiffens in self defense against a much stronger-willed wife, and in the past against parent and uncles. I ordered the book, as I told you; so that I would seem to reach out to him and put my hand on his shoulder.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

13 February 1966

Dearest Fido,

This is the end of a long day at the office, and I must say
I have kept at it. A good deal of the time has gone in connection with
letters about the Homage to Jarrell, the logistics of which seem to be
terrifying. A suggestion was that a number of participants might read
one of his poems and comment on it. Suddenly I realised that several
might choose the same poem. They did, as I found when I phoned today.
Then there were the lines for publicity, and notes to his publishers.
And letters about several other lectures, all of which so far as I can
tell have now been done.

I have wrapped one of R.A. desiderata (the only one I have
found so far) and will send to Catha in the morning. Susan finished the
bird book and found it disappointingly poetic, but I have wrapped that
and written a note to Hilda Quick to accompany it. So the day has gone.

But I have forgotten Valentine's Day, tomorrow, and you will
not have had special love except through ESP. But I hope that works.

It has been a downpour steadily all day, so heavy that it
leaks through my windows and spatters me occasionally as I work at my
typewriter. The rain will be good for the resevoirs, but I am glad I did
not have to drive in it to Cambridge. I made the trip uneventfully in
sunshine that unexpectedly brought the thermometer to 53° F and melted the
snowbanks clean away. Prof Wolff checked the books carefully as we unwrapped
them and found all satisfactory. So at least that is off my conscience.
In children's fantasy tales, the toys in the nursery come alive after midnite
and play with each other. I wonder if last night in Wolff's library the
books suddenly began to chatter. "What was it really like in New York?"
they would ask. "And are things different there from what they were in London
when we were born?"

There was no letter from you in yesterday's mail, for me to
read this morning when I had the Guard open the mailroom. But two of the 9th
had come on Friday. I thought your letter to Rita was a sensible and honest
one. It will make her unhappy but better to have it in the open. #As for the
London journalist, I hope she does not manage to bowbeat you into an inter-
view. Let her starve until she has to go to Coigny for her return fare. #
I leave to you as to whether or not I see M. Coigny à deux or à trois. Or
ask him. He might have a preference. # Rosemary was indeed and naturally
grateful for your help. I fear the situation is quite hopeless, but she
rises to the situation wonderfully well. # We are leaving our plans for
Cambridge, as I wrote, until you have the Leaders and the two or three trips
scheduled. We should be able to do that almost any day. I think I wrote
that we are now having to dine with the Cleanth Brooks on the night of the
17th, since they are involved with a group of theologians on the 18th. They

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

15 February 1966

Dearest Fido,

It is now 6 p.m. and until this moment I hadn't even been able to take the cover off from my typewriter. Obviously I can't do much more than that now, for I have to go home, take Susan to the Lawn Club for dinner and then to a concert by the Cleveland Symphony. I didn't write you yesterday; I still long for a moment when I can. Rrally what more can I do than to explain that yesterday morning was filled with appointments, I lunched with Mary de Rachewiltz, in a kind of newell before she leaves, then got back to the office in time for appointments at 2, although alas Richmond Lattimore the poet and translator who was to give a Bergen Lecture at 4:30 arrived just after lunch while I was still in appointments, so that 3 I took him for a visit to the Rare Book Room Library, then to the lecture, then to a small dinner party at Mory's I gave him, then back to the office at 8 p.m. for an appointment with the Dean of the Graduate School which lasted until nine. I meant to begin writing you then, but simply couldn't keep my eyes open.

Today it was appointments all morning, a half hour lunch, and then my graduate seminar until four; at four a group picture of the English Department professors, all looking very senatorial; then at 4:30 a meeting of the nominating committee of the International Student Center, which broke up just as I began this.

And so you see why I cannot even claim to be a strong as well as a silent man. But there is still strength enough to send you

All love, as always

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

16 February 1966

Dearest Fido,

My first chance to write today is now tonight. At 10 p.m. in the office to which I came back to try to put at least a little order to my desk.

A pile of letters waits: the 10th, 11th, 12th, 13th and 14th. God must forgive me. I have not yet heard from Helen. I wonder if I really shall be able to see her before I go to England. I will try at least to speak to her on the phone. #You are of course quite right about Alan, but I have no idea how your plans will turn out. Neither Dean nor Tom seem quite to have the idea of how to plan, perhaps because neither Doris nor Ethel ever really had to cope with the education of a boy. And this is above Tom's experience too. I hope he does manage at least to get one language well, in addition to English. #Your poems which Chester unearthed I have, alas, forgotten. Though I mean sometime to bring copies of all your poetry together. #Your talks with Beney sound sensible. We can discuss Vevey, but I fear you will find me (at first at least) more or less on his side about Kenwin. I am not being spendthrift, but while you are still active with your writing you need a familiar place to work in, and one where you can have your books around you. Actually Elsie too would be miserable in another setting, for difficult though Kenwin may be it is her pride, the rock on which she stand. It is not quite a matter of spending the necessary money on yourself; it is spending it on her and for her and for the house which would be worthless if not kept desirably in repair. But it is spending it for yourself too, as all of us wish you would; your capital goes up, but it is meaningless gain if it cannot give you at least the minium of what you need. You must celebrate your promised visa in London by keeping up the Swiss address you give! # I am saddened as anyone would be, not so much perhaps at the death of Rosemary's father as by the fact that she will now be alone. I have a hunch however that she will cope, perhaps better than one suspects. She has the necessary inner strength or she would have fallen apart years ago. I leave to you whether or not we try to see her. You will sense the appropriateness better than I can. #I shall guard Kenneth's letters which will probably arrive after I have left. But if more turn up why not let me take them in our return luggage. I see no occasion for much byying on our part, and we will be minus the phonoraph records and eney's suit. #The arrangements with M. Coigny and Beney seem fine. Shall I see Beney alone too? Again I trust your judgment on this. #I am glad the invitations for our 25th anniversary party arrived safely. We had to ask, by protocol, too many people to crowd into Goodrich Street, and so were forced to turn to the Lawn Club, luckily closed to the public on a Monday. Putting people there we had to give them something to do, and so hired a small orchestra to play for dancing. I shall have to be the host and move about among the guests rather than on the dance floor. #As I wrote you, I did send the bird book to Hilda Quick even though it failed to live up to expectations. And I will send the furniture and

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

18 February 1966

Dearest Fido,

I start this time in the morning. I must say the Hartford
meeting was not entirely worth it, for there were only a few of the
committee there and most of the time was spent retracing the steps we
had taken a few weeks ago, Still, I suppose if the points established
then were firmed up in their minds, it was an accomplishment of a sort.
One can't ask for too much. I was tired when I got back and renigged
on the meeting that night of the Connecticut Academy. Harald will have
been disappointed, but I cannot be at meetings day and night.

So pressed have I been that I did not even report to you
on my phone call with Patrick last Syndat morning. He found his father
much improved in the last four or five days. He is stronger and talks
more easily. Part of the miracle is due to Prutting's prescription of
vitamines, for these seem to be working though never before has Horace
apparently been able to take vitamins of any sort. The doctors now
think he can be let out of the hospital early in March. I asked about
Marya's plan for going to New York, but this has been discarded. Patrick
urges against it, since in the city they would be even more helpless
than at Palisades. In Palisades the neighbors help at all times, take
Marya to see him daily, help her with marketing, and keep them from
being altogether lonely. The hope now is for him to go to a nearby
nursing home, as you will see from Marya's letter which I enclose a
copy of. She can't really manage him at home, and I agree that it is
the best solution. They will have to have financial help, but I can
manage that I am sure; and indeed this was what I promised them: you
to take the doctors' bills and I the hospitalizing. I send you Marya's
letter only to keep you in touch.

I enclose a copy also of a letter from a young man who is
doing a book on Henty and who had known about the Dusty Diamonds show.
I am sure he knows about the Martin material at Indiana, and I shall
have to show him the typescripts by the amanuensis. But do you or do
you not want him to see the Henty letters I have bought for the collection?
I think of you as having first choice on anything I have. Yet there is
nothing of much importance in them, and perhaps we should simply be glad
at the awakening interest in the Master. In other words I can't keep
him away from seeing me, and will say he can; but I will not actually
show him everything unless you want me to. We can of course discuss all
this when we are together.

I spend endless time on the Homage to Randall Jarrell, tho
fortunately I had an hour yesterday with the Yale News Bureau, which will
handle the publicity and see that it gets in the papers around the country.
Yesterday I had a note from Marianne, so that she will be represented by
a message although she quite rightly will not herself appear. But both
Susan and I were distressed by the chaos of her card, written and rewritten
until finally she asked me if I couldn't please draft something from it as
though by her. It is sad, and I fear she will not get much better.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

Our 25th anniversary party on Monday draws near, and we have now
heard RSVP's from almost everyone to whom invitations went. As I told you,
the problem of Susan's town friends (and mine) plus the university invita-
tions made it impossible for us to have the party at Goodrich Street. So
we have taken the ball room section of the Lawn Club, and hired a small
orchestra to give guests something to do besides drinking. It will be
exhausting but Susan takes great pleasure in it, and I hope it will be
nice. About 250 have accepted. The Hottens declined, not unexpectedly
(they hate parties of this sort) but with a very nice note, the first we
have heard from them since their November return from Maine. Verdita and
John are coming, and will bring Valentine since it is his birthday and
they will bombine the two. Mary de Rachewiltz will also be there, so they
will have someone to talk to. We have asked them to a family dinner
afterwards, and they will come if Valentine can be excused long enough
for it.

Now I must get back to my work. I checked at the tailor's this
morning and they promise Beney's new suit in ample time for me to bring
with me.

All love as always,

Norman

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

18 February 1966

Dearest Fido,

Why not, for once, two letters in a day, since you have
been such a good and patient girl. And especially since in the noon
mail came two together from you. I am pleased that the program
begins to shape up. As always you are expert in your arrangements,
and things will go much more smoothly for your planning. Why not,
indeed, arrange for dinner at the Sesame on the 18th with Agnes. I
should like nothing better than to see her again, and certainly this
would be no night for the theatre so soon after our arrival. The
excitement of reaching London may sustain us for the first day (the
17th--I am glad your late arrival will mean we have lost nothing
of your time) but by 9-ish of the second day I feel certain we will
be ready to call it quits. The Hastings trip is on for the 19th,
but Susan feels too that we must take at least a quick look at the
Battle--for your sake and ours. As I said, a half-hour with Brimmell
will be enough, and perhaps not even that is necessary. I should not
be buying books; I ought not to anyhow. I am not at all surprised
it too expensive to hire a Raper for the week, and indeed it would
make me nervous to feel I must make the most of one. I leave to you
whether to start for the Jacksons in the morning or after lunch.
A tart at Banbury would be a possibility, as you suggest; and one
can poke a bit afterwards. I don't remember much about the city
nor what it offers. I had not known about the Horticultural Show.
This will be sheer heaven for Susan. Now that we have this much of
a calendar I will discuss with Susan when we go to her sister in
Cambridge, and get that lined up so you can arrange with the Scarletts.
OB, I think, we can arrange for at a moment's notice. But once
Cambridge is out of the way I leave the rest to you.

It is exciting to see the program shape up.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

20 February 1966

Dearest Fido,

I could not write you yesterday. I spent the morning chiefly in running errands, then spent my time at work on my desk especially in writing a letter to Harry Moore who impatiently had been after me in a second letter, and then the afternoon was given over to the Graduate School Alumni Association which was having its annual meeting as a part of the general Alumni Day. I had thought I could write after their reception, but could not break loose until too late.

There was no letter from you yesterday, so none to answer. Yours come now mostly in the afternoon mails and on Saturdays there are no deliveries after mid-morning.

I phoned Patrick this morning as usual. He seemed very cheerful and had found his father cheerful too and in "very good shape." His natural self is coming back, and this is an optimistic self as you know. Marya, alas, does not seem so well but this may be only what one would expect after such strain. She is to have her examinations at the Nyack Hospital rather than have to come to New Haven for them, and Pat will report once they know the results. Meanwhile they seem to think that Horace can leave the hospital for a nursing home about the beginning of March. Only they cannot find a nursing home in the convenient neighborhood which is not "gloomy." They speak of searching for one in New York, and I could only suggest asking Prutting for his advice. I did warn them how expensive New York could be, as I remembered from looking for a place for Hilda. But then it seemed as though I were being stingy. One feels trapped in trying to help from outside. Actually the least expensive thing to do would be to stay in the hospital where insurance pays part. But this would keep Horace and them from feeling he is recovering. And one can't have a "gloomy" place for the same reason. They think a fortnight in a nursing home will be enough, but how Marya plans to cope after that I can't begin to guess. Nor, actually, do I think it realistic to hope that two weeks will be enough. In the end I simply told them to find the right place, and that I would pay the bills if sent to me.

John Schaffner telephoned today to say that Perdita and he would not be able to come up tomorrow, a pity so far as we are concerned but even more so for Valentine whose fifteenth birthday it is. She had had some massive treatments of her teeth, and an infection had sent in which put her in agony and swelled her face throughout the entire jaw. Tomorrow they will have to extract the tooth or teeth and then try to cure the infection. I do feel sorry for her. That kind of pain is absolute hell!

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

What an assortment of letters I have been writing today. A number still have to do with the Homage to Jarrell on the 28th. They will never be done. Then I had to write Michigan to say they could not reprint Hilda's *Tribute* and *walls* because of the new volume I hoped for. I had already refused permission for the *Rod* but it is good to know people care. No news yet from Scribner's about her book or Romaine's. Then a letter to Japan explaining why there was no money for a professor who wanted to come from there. To a young man in California explaining what he must teach here next year when he joins the faculty. A letter of condolence to the widow of a boyhood friend, plus a contribution to his church in his memory (instead of flowers). (Our own house by the way begins to look like a greenhouse from the blossoms sent in honor of tomorrow!) Then one to a publisher saying no I could not just now do an edition of Vachel Linday's letters to Jara Teasdale. One to a professor at Colgate University saying yes I am Hilda's external executor. He didn't say why he wanted to know; of course now there will be other letters from him to answer. Then a letter to the Henty man saying simply I would be glad to see him and show him the typescripts shown at the Grolier.

Your recent cuttings were most interesting. I especially read the one on teaching about 1776 and the War of 1812. I didn't know the British even knew the latter existed. Spender's letter on Robert Lowell (who will be here on the 28th) was interesting. The Oxford Professorship of Poetry really is an odd one in terms of the way it is filled. But Oxford is rather dead so far as poetry is concerned anyhow.

Now I must begin to file away the day's accomplishment, and put together some papers relating to my income tax on which I must work at home tonight.

All love as always. I am glad that January marches.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

21 February 1966

Dearest Fido,

A noon note, but since I shall be busy at the end of the day I
had better take a part of lunch to write. Actually there is little to add
to my end-of-the-day letter yesterday, which I took to the postoffice on my
way home so that it could get a head start to you.

Yours of the 17th was in the morning mail. Poor Beney. I must
say I don't understand why the Union does not stagger its holidays or else
close down for the vacations. Small businesses do of course, but equally
of course banks can't. How I envy him the chance of Teheran and Isfahan,
remembering how rudely their government would not permit me to disembark
because of my failure to renew my typhoid shots.

As for January, why not send the first copy to Helen so she can
have had a look at it. I will bring my copy of the first three chapters
with me to England, to read consecutively with the rest at that time.

I have talked over with Susan the preferable dates for the trip
to Cambridge, and it seems best (allowing Molly a choice) to offer to go
either on Sunday the 20th or Thursday the 24th. Actually I think I should
prefer Sunday since there is less to be accomplished on that day in town
than any other. And we shall be leaving on the following Sunday for Nice.
I have a feeling that you invited Agnes Latham for tea on Sunday, but perhaps
she would be willing to shift if that were the day Molly prefers.

I forgot to say that I went home yesterday morning to hear the
first of three half-hour tv programs on Ezra Pound. It was excellently put
on, with a small group of actors taking various parts without costume or
pretending to look like the characters whose letters they read or whose
actions they enacted. I had let the writer of the script use Hilda's
account of her early days with Ezra, and the actress did her lines magnifi-
cently, with real dramatic impact. I think Hilda would have loved it! I
did at any rate.

All love,

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

22 February 1966

Dearest Fido,

My graduate seminar this afternoon, and then a usual
meeting of the English Department. This morning, phone calls about
the Homage to Jarrell and then to the Library to see about putting
up the exhibition of his books and some correspondence. You are
right--it doesn't have anything in it for me. I feel like Gerald
arranging for the coronation.

Your letter of the 18th was in the morning mail, but
only because it must have arrived yesterday. This being Washington's
birthday there were no letters propely speaking except internally
within the university. Yours must have been sorted out and given
to the university delivery late last afternoon. I agree about Sylva
Norman. Things will be crowded and I really don't have anything
in particular to say to her, and her diet is hard to share. Nor
would I take her on with Prutting either. He would be annoyed at
her vegetarianism and might feel it stood between her and her proper
treatment.

Quite all right about the Fletcher book. I sent only
because you had said vis-a-vis young Maggs that he never kept his
eyes open for the more expensive B&F's for you, the rarer ones that
is. Horace will indeed be more expensive for both of us, so will
the Rosslers, and I fear that Catha may need more if she takes on
Kershaw. However I was delighted that Philip had managed another
switch of Pounds for you. He's awfully good that way, and in time
you will have gotten in back with Beney's help.

The party seemed to go well last night, both at the
Lawn Club and the small family dinner afterwards. But we were both
exhausted from being hosts so intensely.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

24 February 1966

Dearest Fido,

I waited until the mid-afternoon mail and was delighted to have yours of the 21st in it. The party did seem to be a complete success. Susan was happy with it, and so did everyone else seem to be (all 250 of them). For once a party went off as planned, or better even than one had hoped for. Fortunately it was short enough so that energies didn't wear out, except possibly for ourselves (but that was a pleasant fatigue).

I really am glad that Beney persuaded you with solid good facts to keep on at Kenwin. Somehow it is important to be in a place where you can get up in the dark. And however much creative energy goes into a new furnace and hot water equipment, it won't be as much as trying to outfit a wholly new establishment.

But I did mean to ask if you would prefer *this time* (not as a precedent) to have Susan and me stay in the town. It might take a little worry off Elsie's shoulders, save some friction with Ines, and yet not keep us from coming over after breakfast and staying on until we all normally retire to kennels. I repeat, not as a precedent, but just now.

Rosemary did indeed write a splendid letter. She has marrow. It would be most interesting to see her. As I wrote you, we offered Susan's sister Molly either the preceding Sunday or Thursday as alternatives, with us preferring Sunday. But we should be hearing soon from her.

We can go over the Henty, but on the whole it is what one says about his work which counts. And he can do his own research into the newspaper items. I feel as though we should help the reputation in any way we can. It is like dropping marigolds on Ghandi's tomb.

A royalty statement came in today from Grove for Hilda's books. The last six months sales. Some 400 copies of *Selected Poems*, 76 of *Helen*, and 57 of *Bid Me to Live*. I am particularly pleased at the *Poems* since this is the one they wanted to drop. Did I tell you I was giving a public reading of her poems on March 11th? I hope it goes well.

I went down town in the forenoon to deposit the check to her savings account and to arrange with the travel agency about flights. They were to have reported back with confirmations this afternoon but haven't. So there is no point in giving you details until I know just what they are.

Most of the day has gone to further details about the Homage. The phone rings constantly, or I make it ring elsewhere. The New York Times is sending up a man, I get calls from television people. Someone even wanted to make a film documentary out of it, if only I would rearrange the program

in order to make it livelier in movements. Imagine a hall in which the audience had to peer through Klieg lights! But I grow a little weary at playing entrepreneur.

is the shy personal tone which he is beginning to use. Rather like a schoolboy, with a crush on the master.

24 February 1966

Dearest Fido,

Another end of the day, this time after an afternoon of my undergraduate seminar, on top of which I paid a hurried visit to the Library to instruct a boy on how to inventory the book stock of the Connecticut Academy (all for Harald), then a state visit from a Naoya Uchimura, a leading Japanese playwright, plus what was to have been a taped interview over the telephone to be played on the college radio station. Fortunately by the time I could pick up the phone to dial them it proved to be too late to work it in tonight, and I was saved the invention of more platitudes about the Homage.

Your letter of the 20th was in today's mail, that of the 18th in yesterday's. To correct myself I see there is no conflict between the arrangement for Agnes and the possibility we will be going to Cambridge on the Sunday. I am glad to know now that you prefer to have us come to Geneva later in the week than we originally planned, since I have not yet got to the travel agent and so will not have to rearrange the original schedule as I should have to have done had I stuck to it. Alas, I can't stay longer in London since my reservation is only through Saturday night. I am a little loathe to inflict myself on Romaine for a whole day and two nights, since as you say she cannot cope with guests for very long or in any number. Actually I rather wish I hadn't been persuaded to attempt the visit, but will work out something. I am glad of Beney's advice about which planes to take. Do thank him. Susan has written her sister preferring Sunday but allowing the following Thursday as an alternate. I will let you know as soon as we hear. And will let you know about our arrival in London.

You ask about the copyright on unpublished letters. It is the same in the States as in England. The writer of a letter makes a gift of the paper on which it is written; the right to the words is reserved to himself and his heirs. Osbert is following the usual practise with Miss Salter. Mrs Hemingway was trying to show that spoken words are the same as written, in halting the book on her husband, but the courts decided against her.

I have a feeling that if Tolkien really felt like writing he would let the dishes stand dirty in the sink. At least guests don't bother him, for he won't have them. I suspect he gives a good public reason in place of a more accurate private one.

As to Kenneth's letters, why not, as I suggested, let me bring back the rest with my luggage. This will save the postage and be no trouble at all.

I enclose a letter from John Maggs which I thought might amuse you. I wonder if this last trip to America wasn't somehow an eye-opener for him. One would have thought he would have to "begin to realize" what many have remarked about Maggs for a long time. What interests me most

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

25 February 1966

Dearest Fido,

This time I begin at mid-day, to make at least a beginning
before I leave for a funeral at 2. A somewhat older man, the retired
head of an electric power plant who we saw occasionally because his wife
was a garden club friend of Susan's. The day has been pressed. I woke
up this morning to find six inches of heavy snow fallen, and such piles
from off the roof in front of the garage doors that I could not leave
the house until 10:30. The telephone never stopped ringing except when
I had rung it myself and was talking, because of the Homage. I am more
than a little exhausted, and need a tranquilizer now that the noon mail
has brought a letter from the widow with a list of seven or eight more
whom I am to contact at once by phone and invite. The evening seems
to lie somewhere between a public function and a private wake. I
warned Robt Penn Warren on the phone just now that I made him responsible
to hold a similar memorial to me as one who died in action.

In mid morning I also had Connecticut Academy business to
do for Harald, and at the end of the afternoon have to conduct a meeting
so as to keep him and the Secretary out of each other's hair. Ingholt's
heart condition keeps him in a flurry.

However it has been a good day in the mail for me, since the
post brought me your two of the 22nd and that of the 23rd. I cry AH!,
in triumph at knowing your friends better than yourself. The Eric is
White not Heydt, and this was written from their postponed holiday. But
I also cry OHH!! with a whimper, to think he will be giving two talks at
Yale in October. For I suppose I shall have to go, and he really has
nothing to say. But since he will be in New Haven I think that sufficiently
removes any need to see him in March in London. I congratulate you on
your rescue of the bookcase, and on having so promptly filled it. Nothing
pleases me more than to arrange or rearrange books. Sad that the Maggs
shelves grow thinner, though in fact most rare book dealers keep their
rarissima moving before they ever are exposed to the public. I believe
their only respectable public stock has usually been travel books.
This isn't so bad in itself, the main thing is whether they have anything
tucked away to show people. In the old days, old families sought Maggs
out. Now they are usually smart enough to go directly to Sotheby's. I
really am sorry not to be able to see Agnes. But don't do the Scarlett's
on your first day, especially if there is a chance we go to Cambridge on
the Sunday. However, as always you will recognize the demands of your
schedule better than I can. I forgot to say how excited Susan is at the
possibility of the Horticultural Show,

of our putting up at a local hotel while with you, this time, if it seems better because of the repairs.

A nice letter from the Vancouver
way about his summer. I have written you a course.

26 February 1966

Dearest Fido,

I was sorry to have broken off yesterday in the way I
did, but Ingholt gets so involved with the autocratic Secretary of
the Academy that I didn't dare let him open the meeting without my
being there. Fortunately all went well, and he phoned me today to
say how pleased he was. He takes great pride in his presidency;
I hate to have it spoiled.

Last night I worked on my bills etc in preparation
for working out my income tax report. Or, rather, preparation
for handing the papers over to the accountant since the whole
matter is too complicated for me to try to fathom and work out.

I had intended enclosing a letter from Needham about
his trip, but wanted to show it to Susan first. In my reply to
him I said I was sending it to you; he phoned to say he himself had
written. So I shall save the extra postage.

This morning I did the last of what seemed to be the
last of the preparations for the Homage. Chiefly phoning the ones
in New York whom Mrs Jarrell insisted on being asked. I reached
all but a few, and will try to write them this afternoon with special
delivery stamps. Allen Tate has wired to say he could not come; I
hope the others will show up, after all the publicity.

An envelope has come from Collins with some xerox prints
of a few more letters to him from Hilda. None important, but I suppose
they add to the record. Obviously the intimacy, if there ever was any,
wore off as time went on. I shall have to figure out some way of
settling matters with him, since this obviously was a further hint.

The travel agency phoned to say that reservations had been
confirmed, so I am more or less settled. We leave New York at 8:30
p.m. by Air India (to see if the service is as good as it is said to
be) arriving at London on flight #106 at 8:05 a.m. London time. We
leave London on the 27th at 11:55 a.m. by BEA on flight #104 arriving
at Nice at 1:35. We leave Nice on the 29th at 9:30 arriving at Geneva
at 11:05, and to save you the trouble will go on by train to Lausanne
and from there to Burier. This by Swiss Air, and since you said Tuesday
the only possibility is by the Metrop (according to the schedule you
sent). Too bad to miss the more scenic flight but this is not available
on that day. We leave Geneva by Swiss Air for New York at 2:00 on
April 4th, arriving in New York at 4:30. The afternoon flight will let
us get to Geneva, or should allow us time to do so, by train from Lausanne.
I put it all on a small sheet so you will not need to copy it. I only
fear it will be a burden on you to have us stay so long, but I am already
excited at the prospect of seeing you. Don't forget about the possibility

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

27 February 1966

Dearest Fido,

I have been spending the day concentrating on the reading of *The Clairvoyant Eye*--- a new book on Wallace Stevens, rather I should say a recent book, since it actually was published in 1965, which I am reviewing for the New York Times. It was madness to say I would, what with tomorrow's preparations, and the judging of the Book Award on Friday, but I did say so and now quite properly I am being driven mad by it. For I discovered yesterday that the review is due Thursday of this week. Still, I have only fifty pages to go, and will come back to the office after supper to see if I can make a start at it.

Last night we spent entertaining the Japanese. One couple was a visiting professor and his wife, not attached to American Studies but one who has rather crept to me out of loneliness. We were to have had another visiting professor, sans wife, but he suddenly came down with a case of the flu which is catching everyone these days. So we asked the translator of *Zeami*, the play I helped to put on and his Japanese wife, both young and talkative and both able to burst into Japanese at critical moments, since altho American he teaches Japanese modern literature. We managed, thanks chiefly to Susan's collection of Valentines in which they were interested as something quite un-Japanese.

Yesterday's mail brought a beautifully illustrated book on eskimaux art sent me by Brother Volant, since it has many things from his museum illustrated in it. Susan has been studying it (obviously I have no time to do more than leaf the pages) and says it is by far the best thing that exists. I shall not buy a copy for you, but wait until you come to look at it here. I doubt if it is really for your shelves. But it was very kind of him to think of me in connection with it.

There has not been a peep out of the National Museum in Copenhagen since I wrote in December, but perhaps they wait for the analysis of the Viking bones. I wonder too if they will need more money for this summer's work, that is if indeed they do plan to work on it. One can't quite badger them!

Tomorrow will be a madhouse, with people arriving unexpectedly as to time throughout the whole day. Stupidly I had long since scheduled my annual physical exam for the beginning of the afternoon, so that will complicate matters further. I shall offer devoted prayers tonight.

8 July 1966

Dearest Fido,

An end of a Friday note. I was delighted to have your letter
from Florence in this afternoon's mail. How marvelous that Elsie could
see Florence. I wonder you could tear her away. She must have felt a
little as I would feel if given the chance sometime to see Venice. Only
Florence, with its galleries, has more to offer than canals.

I spent a good part of the morning with Susan and a carepenter at Goodrich Street, going over a long list of minor repairs that have to be made. This should pretty well put the house in town in order, and I worked impelled by the spirit of your renovations at Kenwin. There were spots on the floors that had rotted and needed replacement. The front door had dried out and need fixing before it is painted. A shelf or two was added to the cellar, and a hole to be repaired on the back door where an opening had been made in the wall behind it. A new floor, linoneum, in the back closet. New fixtures to hold the ropes for the shades in the greenhouse. And then one luxury for me, sheer luxury: a set of sliding drawers in the cellar so that at last I could fix my eskimo collection so that I myself could see it, and you could see it, and I could show it occasionally to less informed visitors than yourself.

At the office I have finished the report on the Cooper manu-
script, and paid a few more bills. This time the bill from Horace's
nurse reported that his need of physical therapy might keep him a little
longer in the hospital than had been expected. But if it continues to help him.
then it is all to the good. Marya seems to think he will really walk again
as he once did (perhaps the dream of travel is still in her mind), but I
think that would be hoping for too much. Still the miracle of his recovery
remains.

9 July 1966

Dearest Fido,

I really feel as though I had accomplished a little more
than usual today, chiefly because what I have done is for myself rather
than for the office as such. Altogether I have written some thirty
letters, which is not bad for my poor carrotty fingers to pound out.

The first real task was to put together, finally, the
papers concerned with my payments for Susan's dead aunt, an account
of over $1000.00 which I am, by their invitation, giving to the
executors of her estate for repayment. Actually there isn't any
reason why they shouldn't, and I can certainly use the money to the
good advantage of others.

As for example, the Gregories. I sat down for a couple
of uninterrupted hours and put all the paid bills together into the
proper groups and categories. Then I finally got down to paying his
bill from his physician and his surgeon, and his anesthetist, and
his podiatrist. And wrote to the hospital to ask about their bill
for Horace, and whether Marya had any other of her own outstanding
bills with them (she has just sent me an unpaid and unopened bill
to her in February for her own treatment; it was only for forty dollars,
don't they have even that?); and then wrote to Patrick in answer to
his puzzled letter, and suggested that when Daddy was home perhaps he
could take over the direction of bills to Medicare, Major Medical and
Blue Cross, since his mother would be busy with housework (certainly
at his age he could learn); and then to Horace and Marya and sent them
their mid-year regular check for $1,000.00 (it comes January 1st and July
1st) and I imagine they count on it. And then went to the adding machine
to get a rough idea of what the total medical expenses thus far have
been, and found I had sent out (including your money to Prutting) somewhat
over $13,000 which does not include any hospital expenses since June 1.
Nor the $2,000 annual allowance. So on the whole I think they have been
rather lucky, but I am certainly lucky (thanks to you) to have been able
to help, and of course some of this will eventually come back, and your
gift of $4,000 toward it was a godsend. Fortunately I am all right, so
don't send any more.

I think I told you that in the nurse's last letter she said
that :a little longer therapeutic baths and treatments are found necessary,
but it should not be too much longer."

I did forget yesterday that my friend John Hollander, the poet,
came in with a long-playing recording of Stravinsky's The Flood, saying
(as tho I hadn't known it, thanks to you) that originally it had been
planned that Marianne would narrate the three differing parts for the
gala presentation with Stravinsky himself conducting. But that it had
finally been discovered that Marianne couldn't read a single note of music,
and since it was absolutely necessary for her to follow the score and know
exactly when to come in and when to pause and when to stop, they had had to

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

give that idea up, and that he was going to do it in her place. Stravinsky
is a musical perfectionist and it would have driven him wild to have her
off beat. And since the fee is only $300.00 I think she would have been
foolish to have gone through all the strain of countless rehearsals and
the performance, especially now that her voice thickens when she is tired,
because of her stroke. But I am all the more grateful for Chester's
account of the rehearsals. I do think he should someday do a memoir of
her.

There was no letter from you today, but a yellowback came which I
read at lunch. I am sorry about Dean's bad luck with the house on St Mary's
and about Alan's rejection from Nottingham. But I am sure he will get in
somewhere after his exams. Or it might be worth his making another stab
if things don't work out this time. No disgrace in that. Ethel sounds
cheery, as does Mervyn. I am glad he can keep his house; he will manage
and there's not that much difference in salary if he has to change his
abode. Michael Gough too sounded well on his feet again, so the world
prospers.

I will probably not come to the office tomorrow, and so will not
try to write until Monday.

11 July 1966

Dearest Fido,

I most certainly didn't get to the office yesterday. When I got home Saturday night, Susan reminded me with horror that we had both forgotten we had promised to go to Hartford yesterday for the noon wedding of the son of my undergraduate roommate at Yale. It isn't a boy I know very well, but I did think it was called on us to go, especially since it was close at hand (his parents live in Boston) and because the boy was marrying a Jewish girl in a quasi-Jewish civil ceremony. All Jewish marriages seem to take place on Sunday and this one was followed by a reception and then a luncheon for at least two hundred, with dancing and much festivity. The ceremony, performed by a Judge of Probate rather than a rabbi was chiefly a long homily on how to avoid quarreling once married (the divorce courts must have been in his mind), and it was long enough so I was glad to be seated during the ceremony. But Dr Ingelfiner, the roommate did seem pleased we had come, and I am glad we went. But it took until late afternoon.

Today has been more office-cleaning, as I threw away six years accumulation of mimeograph stencils. What possible good they were, I couldn't see. And it is much better for the new secretary to fill her own attic; that is, at least to have a faint notion of what is stored away. I went on with my cleaning by taking the Oldsmobile to have the body greased and sprayed with oil so it would not creak so infernally. My next step with that is to find someone to reupholster the front seat, which has now been worn through in three gaping rips. We must be in good shape for our trip to Maine when you come. Fortunately the motor, which is the main thing, appears to run quietly and well.

Donald Gallup, in going over the papers of Dorothy Norman, which she is giving Yale, was as surprised as I am, to find a little pamphlet among them by you, a xerox of which I enclose on the faint hope that you may have a copy to go with your own archives. It is a bibliographical item I had not known of, or known that it had been printed on this side of the Atlantic as the Union of Printers seal indicated. Do tell me about it.

I was delighted to have your long letter of the 8th from Kenwin and to feel that you were at home again. Much of it is in answer to mine, but thank you for the answers. I shall write Authors and tell them to ship the money here. No the Dawson collection of Henty was simply not worth all that for the 12 items we did not have. I am trying to chivvy Brimmell into extra search at least for the 20th-century ones. Write Quayle as you did, or proposed to do. He'll never get his down on Henty, but if he should so much the better for G.A.

Your trip did sound like a splendid success both for Elise and yourself. If Elsie has a good picture of the place or gardens, do persuade her to let us have prints. They would be helpful to my mind's eye.

article on Hawthorne came in from Louisiana. Would I please read it, and if I liked it send it to some magazine.
I'll read it as a professional courtesy, but I won't become an agent.

John Schaffner wrote. "As for Bryher's plans," he says, "of course we wouldn't dream of asking her to change them. We had hoped to get you and Susan to Southampton and Bryher's birthday seemed a delightful excuse. The New England trip sounds wonderful and I especially have wanted Bryher to get to know Maine, which

Dearest Fido,

I had not expected to be quite so pressed at the end of the afternoon -- indeed I had thought to go back to the shore by way of weeding a little at Goodrich Street -- but at five a professor from Wayne University in Detroit and the little Korean came in on respective errands, and how it is almost time to go straight to Branford. What a little Mother of Them All I become. Because of the airstrike the Korean can't get back to Minneapolis to pack to fly back to Seoul, and so haunts my office in between visits to the Beinecke for the Stieglitz papers. This morning I had to take him to the New Haven airport while they tried to work out possible alternative flights to Minnesota, and that took two precious hours. But had he taken the otherwise necessary taxi to the airport and had it wait it would have cost him some $15.00 which he doesn't have.

Your letter of the 9th was in the morning mail. I am delighted at the good news about Bryan. My advice would be for him to read for the Honors degree. Giving a man freedom is to enable him to make a choice. He may take Honors and still decide to farm for his father, but the other way he could not make any choice at all. He would have to till.

It was no wonder Mlle Coigny was grateful for your gift; and no wonder that she is overwhelmed now that she knows how many francs are really represented. What a nice young lady she is!

As to the accounts for Hilda Quick and Dean, why not simply send them over to me, and I will bank as I do the royalties, taking out a savings account for each (although in my name) and then closing the account when they come. Better this way than mixing it with my own on which I have to draw for emergencies. And easier this way, also, to render accounts to them and to you when the time comes. Meanwhile the interest can accumulate. And, of course, I can always send the money to them anywhere, in Europe or here or even in England if you should decide later that that was wisest.

Have had no announcement that the Manchester Guardian navigators would do a book on their trip but rather take it for granted. If you know someone who takes the Guardian, ask them to watch out for the accounts first published in it. You will be amused that when I ordered your porno book, Bheackwell's announced they could not supply it from their stock but had to order from the publishers. I should have thought it a natural seller to the women's colleges!

As to my son-in-law's movements in and out, I should agree with you. But one can't interfere. He is at least giving young Susan $100 a week out of his $150 salary, which won't leave him much for bed and board and mistresses.

Spent today, and a good deal of last evening, finishing the reading of the ms of an edition of Jonathan Edwards' Miscellanies. Tomorrow I can make my report and hand it over and off my desk. Now I am reading two chapters of a draft of a dissertation on the Negro writer Richard Wright. And the ms of a magaz ine

I like to think of as my country.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 H G S
YALE UNIVERSITY
NEW HAVEN · CONN

12 July 1966

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

13 July 1966

Dearest Fido,

This has started out in such a 13th-ish way that I might as well redeem it by writing you in the morning, rather than be caught again (as last night) by late visitors.

In yesterday's letter I chiefly forgot to say that I had had a telephone call from Horace, his voice fresh and strong and full of good spirits because he had twice yesterday morning taken a few steps on a ramp. But he had called especially to thank for the mid-year check (wanting to be sure that I really could give it, though he really did need it), and for paying the doctors (his surgeon having called on him with understandable pleasure since he had received nothing since February). But this all leads into your letter of the 10th which I have just read, in which you ask about their bills. Medicare is the American equivalent of your socialized medicine, but applies only to those 65 and above, and became effective July 1. It is rather like Blue Cross without the fees, which the government pays. But like Major Medical, the patient himself must pay the bill first and then apply for compensation. It is the application, with proper documents and authorizations by the doctors, which neither Patrick nor his mother, in successive attempts, were able to fill out properly, so that only some $600.00 could be returned to them. When faced with the realization that they actually did hold Major Medical they were, therefore unable to act on it. Now in the baldest cold fact, I am sure that the Gregories actually do have enough in banks or securities so that they are in a position to pay bills as they come in, file the claims, and then let me know the difference. (For Horace, for example, got $15,000 for his manuscripts and letters when he sold them a year or so ago.) But Marya panics at the idea of even temporarily dipping into their reserves, largely, as she says, because of her real poverty as a child. And neither she nor Horace nor the two children really have any business sense, which is not surprising.

Because Medicare began a new phase as of July 1st, I waited to send in the Major Medical application until it could cover everything up to that date. It is for this that I spent so much time last Saturday putting the bills in some sort of order. I should eventually (in Susan's case it took about two months) receive back up to 80% of what I spent in certain categories, altho other categories are not covered. So that, eventually, I should be in good shape again, financially speaking, and there is no reason for you to transfer anything. Indeed you already did give me $4,000, which was more than generous (as you always are), for W was established to help me do just what I have been doing for our friends in common.

When I asked if you had by some chance transferred to it, it was because the quarterly payment was somewhat larger than usual and I at first thought that a transfer might or must have accounted for it. Then I realised that municipal and national bonds in which Beney had conservatively relied much on have their interest payable only twice a year, and so this lay behind what had seemed extra. I am, as you know, having what I hope will be the final minor repairs made at Goodrich Street: painting, the front door repaired, etc., but luckily the house is no palazzo so I don't have to worry about that kind of

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

for rehabilitation.

I am glad however that Kenneth is doing what he is doing, and am not surprised that he looks younger and better than for a long time. His rehabilitations are a real creative effort as well as a love affair, both outlets needed by him. The house in fact is his Dusty Diamond!

Your plan to visit in future by way of Rome sounds sensible, though I am glad this time that Elsie had the chance for Florence. I imagine that she will want to go with you from now on, and it may work out as the most sensible solution for your holidays with her.

Poor Silvia Dobson, it does look as though she might be in for a tough time of it. Perhaps there can be some devious ways of getting out a little more for her. Philip will know, if anyone does. I shall drop her a note and say I will be glad to read her manuscript; it will perhaps ease her mind a little to hear from he direct. I can simply say you had written me about it.

Nonconformist? It was a description (not pejorative) for all those who did not accede to the Church of England (the Established Church), so that one generally listed one's self rather proudly under that Category. On the same basis it is used today, equally proudly, or sometimes with a slightly derogatory tone, by those who don't agree with the establishment or the norm of things. Beatniks are extrapolated nonconformists. So are those who do not go along with the crowd. So, apparently, both the Swiss and the Americans, at least, use the word as Elsie does, especially so since the earlier technical theological reference isn't much used. Even in England where one can now get a degree from a university even though not a member of the Church of England.

Yesterday's first day of house-breaking seemed to go reasonably well for Susan, although (though no need to mention this in your letter) Lizzie did give her rather a rough-time of it last night when her mother suggested that the typewriter (since Lizzie already has one) should go to Lizzie's sister (who does not, her husband having taken it). But in addition to intense sibling rivalry, Lizzie depends on chats for dignity, and I only hope that no further tensions arise. It is hard enough as it is. I say don't mention it, because it only kindles Susan's wrath whenever she even thinks about it.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

14 July 1966

Dearest Fido,

I suppose I should commence this with a Vive DeGaulle!

Your letter of the 11th came yesterday afternoon after I had written you. I am delighted that the Nin had arrived and that you found some interest in the book by Chaplin fils. The life of the children must be a strange agonizing experience, the father so obviously a great artist and therefore intimidating, so completely ego-centered, so paradoxically left-wing and pocketbook-right. It is curious how the boy's eyes are like his grandfather O'Neill's, and like his Uncle Eugene who was my friend.

It's curious about Sutherland. I really must look up his picture for I have almost no memory of him at all, if at all. Especially at Andover. I must have seemed strange and therefore appealing to him, and perhaps a little mysterious as I pop into view again unexpectedly in the ambience of the Boys and You. Who knows, perhaps he'd like my name in his guest book too!

Also yesterday afternoon came still another request from Pantheon to print another 1,200 copies of _The Player's Boy_. I said yes, of course; it is such a fine thing to have all of your books in print in the States. They are to raise the price to $3.50. Some day I hope they'll put it in paper. But the paperback price doesn't seem to make much difference in the total sales.

Your two of the 12th came together today. I couldn't be more pleased both at the news of Bryan's success with his intermediates and with Tom's permission for him to go on for his Honors degree. My reasons I have already given.

Your files seem to be getting into better shape all the time. But don't die on me for the sake of proving how foresighted you are. If the Freund photograph did appear then we now have two, for I bought one from her (it was taken in 1938) and it just arrived by surface from Paris. I had thought she was going also to send a set of the contact prints of the many others, but there was no sign of them.

I too have been working a little at the cabinets in my office, and found to my horror as I was putting away the mss that had been exhibited with the Dusty Diamonds, that in returning my things to me the Grolier Club librarian must have slipped in by mistake a formal letter from the German Ambassador in London thanking Henty on behalf of the Emperor for a set of his books. What must they think of me! I sat down immediately and wrote Phyllis Jackson and asked if my memory of its being theirs is correct. If so I will of course post it instanter. I can't believe that if I bought it myself I should have forgotten it. What a mess!

Joan's trip to Nairobi is something to put me into a frenzy of jealousy. I do hope all is put into order and she can make it.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

15 July 1966

Dearest Fido,

I was really trapped today, or just now, by the Korean professor coming in at a quarter to five to say farewell but making it an extended narration of his adventures (platonic) last night after midnight with a drunken professor of astronomy. Or so he says, though thw directoru carries no one of that name.

Most of the day has been spent reading the manuscript of a book on Thornton Wilder for the Wesleyan University Press. But at least I have done it, and typed a draft of my report which Mrs Sherman can type up on Monday. Now I shall have to run back to the shore, dress and bring Susan for dinner with the John Popes. He is the Beowulf man.

No letter from you today, but I had not finished yesterday's second letter from you, especially in answer to your question of what I had planned to do about the English pensioners in case your death was followed by the simultaneous deaths of Susan and myself. Actually I have thought about it but more in reference to precaution rather than calamity. In the first place I had not planned to make any formal arrangements until after your death, an event which might just as easily follow my own and thereafter entangle anything I had planned for the other contingency. (The amount of funds actually for me to handle has something to do with it, for if I followed my later plan without having the funds, I would bankrupt my estate.) I am waiting too to see precisely who these pensioners will be, since alas they are autumn leaves. I should want to know, too, precisely which of the ones not in England Kenneth promises to look after, though I might well keep an eye on them myself in case of any serious illness of disability on Rover's part which might make it difficult for him to do. Elsie I should keep in touch with anyhow, for her own sake. But let us imagine for the doleful moment that you transferred to a celestial Queenwood. My plan (and I wondered what you would think of it) was to provide in my will for a trust fund whose income and principal could be expended by someone who by that time seemed suitable, perhaps Susan at first if she survived me-(one simply has to feel the moment) for the pensioners, after the death of the last of whom the principal could be distributed according to whatever seemed wise by me, but as it appeared at the time of my last testament. Thus there could be no danger of the pensioners being forgotten, since an accounting would have to be given assuring that they had been taken care.

This may seem to be putting off the arrangement, but it is really much more a matter of careful planning than procrastination. Situations change so much. The Gregories might be better or worse. Or dead. So might Silvia Dobson. You mustn't forget by the way that you promised to send me a revised list, first when you were here last, and then again when we were in London and Switzerland. Still I know them pretty well from earlier lists, except for the sadness of striking names off because of death.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

16 July 1966

Dearest Fido,

The weather has suddenly changed and it is like early September, after a week when the thermometer was always close to 100°F. People sweltered and moaned. Today I have my window open and my air conditioner off. The real difficulty with closed windows and a conditioner is, for me, not the temperature but the lack of an escape for cigaret smoke.

No letter in the mail from you today or yesterday. I shall work away at this during the day, but at least want to finish what I had to leave when the Korean came. He has been held over an extra week because of the airline strike, but I finally managed after hours of effort to shift his ticket by air from New Haven to one by limousine to Kennedy, air on another line to Chicago, then bus to Minneapolis. But poor man he was lonely, and would I am sure have been happier could I have devoted every meal and evening to him.

To return to your second letter of the 12th. I think not for the translation of Lovecraft. I thought them interesting, as Horace did, but have never studied or collected him. Now I keep to our Dusty Diamonds. Yesterday's mail brought two packages from Brimmell: one with Kingston's *Mate of the Lily* (1878) and Achilles Daunt, *With Pack and Rifle* (1892). The other had two volumes of Boy's Own Annual, 1891-93 which are as new and bright as the day they were issued. I like pristine copies officially, but I have a sneaking fondness for the ones which by their wear show they were loved.

Something certainly will come back from Medicare. I will have my confidence with the Gregories, but only when all bills up to July 1st have been straightened out and paid. This morning I had a nice letter from the anaesthetist who should have been paid in February, with payment reimbursed by Blue Cross, thanking me and sending the correct form for Horace to sign. It was for $85.00 and he must have hated to wait five months for a bill that cost the patient nothing in the end.

I should think your idea of an intervening year in a commercial school in Switzerland might be a good one, if he could perfect his French. I speak of Alan. One simply has to be sure it's a good school.

Do let me know precisely which of the pensioners Kenneth agrees to take care of. I should not want to botch up anything, or even to seem to the recipient as a competing source.

The day has limped on, and is now nearly done. It has been a solitary one, for no one but mad dogs and Pearsons go out in the Saturday sun. What I have accomplished? Not very much. I tried to shore up a sagging bookshelf but so unsuccessfully that the shelf is now leaning against the wall and the books are stacked on the floor. But after I wrote the above this morning, and filed some letters so as to give a semblance of neatness to the office, I wrote a letter about the slipcase of *January* for Helen, and mailed it and the typescript off to him airmail so he could get going at it. I paid the new registered nurse Horace has as replacement for the one remaining. Then wrote to Horace, having filled out all of Dr Stewart's statement for Blue Cross except for the number of Horace's policy and his signature, so that he could sign and send. I wrote to Robert Duncan thanking for two pamphlets of

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

his poems which I read before thanking. I wrote a professor of Icelandic
at Harvard asking if he would translate a tiny pamphlet about the Vinland
map (Yale's expert is furious because they didn't ask him to write one of the
introductions to the original). Then I looked at some poems for the New
England Galaxy, and returned them to the editor. Then I ordered (if possible)
a copy of Hilda's Collected Poems for a rof. Dr Kink, of Freiburg in Breisgau
who wanted it for a study someone is making. Then I wrote a curator of mss
at the Library of Congress thanking him for a letter about the Woodrow Wilson
archives. Then I ordered a Ballantyne letter from Mott. Then I whanked a
Mr Feinberg in Detroit for three pamhlets on Whitman. Then I wrote the
Vice-Chancellor at Wellington College, Auckland, New Zealand in answer to
one from him about a Chair of American Literature there. Then I wrote a
letter of recommendation to the University of Illinois for a graduating
senior here who wants to be a student counsellor there. Then I wrote a
letter about a report on how to edit the texts of famous American writers,
and sent it off to the Modern Language Association.

But, oh! how much more of the same is still to be done. Remember
me in your prayers.

All love, as always

Norman

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

18 July 1966

Dearest Fido,

I did not come to the office yesterday and so did not write. Instead, I wed (is that the past tense of seeded?) in the morning, and gave the Lowndes Venus a bath with suds and warm water, paying particular attention to her feet, since she had no bath at all last summer save for what the rains gave her; and then in the afternoon I went for a brisk sail in the Gungee, east along the coast with the boat healing and frisking like a young colt. I had planned to help Susan move some things back from the big house, but she was tired. This business of house-breaking is too exhausting both physically and nervously, and I only hope they can finish without too many more spats than they've had. It's all rather complicated, but Susan feels she's getting the short end of the deal and suffers correspondingly. How lucky you were to have your mother take care of South Audley, and have broken with your brother before your mother's things had to be cared for.

Speaking of that, why don't you dash over, get the torque (The second best dusty), and have the matter settled in your mind. And perhaps have a talk with Coutts. There is some concern here with the new raising of the interest rate, and the general stifling rather than local encouragement of British trade. I fear Wilson is boxing himself in, by what seems to be a characteristic British tactic which so far has done no one any good. I think the Gods must have stood behind you and your recent withdrawal. Indeed, perhaps you shouldn't go into Coutts at all, or they will ask you to name the rocking horse winner at the races and place their entire reserve at stake.

Yesterday too, I began reading the three large envelopes I had from you of Kenneth's letters, for 1952, 53, 54, 56, 57, and 58 -- first putting them in order so they could be -- as they now have been -- filed. How lebendig his letters are; he writes with real zest and a wonderful sense of comedy. And a course that nice eye for detail that he shows in his novels. I felt very much moved as I relived the years you sent, so much was in them, tangentially, Greeland, Turkey, Hilda's illnesses, the Bear, Uncle Norman's death, such fine accounts as that of the gold Peruvian collection, and of course that tangle of selling and buying houses and apartments which seemed endless. I am so glad to have had my glimpses of Anticoli and the two flats in Rome. Capri of course I never did see.

As to cap it, I had a note from Islay today, thanking for my writing about someone who wants four of his Ghandaran prints for a world history. Despite re-reading Kenneth's fears that I wanted to do a fussy bit of pedantry, I still feel that the book has lasted longer and will do more for Islay than what they originally envisioned: something like that Canadian's fancy bit on Greece, with a glimpse of the Parthenon, nude crocodiles in flesh and marbles, and a broken pillar in the middle of a field. Actually, I think the Boys themselves agree now. Of Arthur Sutherland, Islay writes, "he is a dear, very kind, and I know we disappoint him by not sharing his

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

19 July 1966

Dearest Fido,

Have just finished roughing out the annual report on the
Lecture Committee (English Department) for the past year. I can whittle
and polish tomorrow, but since I intended it to establish a S.O.P. for
the future, and *do not* intend to be chairman again, I have taken some-
what more than the usual care with it. The big duty remaining is my
annual report to the President, and I hope I can pen that with acid!

The morning I spent rather personally. Paying Horace's
podiatrist who it turned out had not been paid since last February.
Then writing to Robert Hodgson who had not been answered for several
months (mea cupla, too), and then to Aurelia so as to get that file
in order. And finally to to our Harold Collins who had just written
sending some more photocopies of what I must say are very good Hilda
letters. I gather for a while he must have filled a real need for
her. She always did want to have some male on the lead.

A note today from your protégé Tom Davison, now in the
neighborhood of Boston. It seems that fog held him up a day in his
crossing. He wants to come on either the 25th or 26th arriving at
10:30 in the a.m. and leaving at 3:30. I shall have to think up
enough things to keep his time full. But I suspect he will like
lunching at Mory's. He wrote a very nice note indeed. I am sure I
shall enjoy having him here.

Yesterday I took Justus to get his haircut, a grandfatherly
gesture as well as an economic one. Since this is a good way of saving his
mother the rather outrageous charges for such sheerings. I have started
him collecting stamps, and he seems extremely interested in them and the
places they represent. "Now I have a hobby!" he says. I always liked
stamp collecting when I was a boy.

Glad you are still thinking of going to England. When some-
thing like the torque itches one, it is better to get it out of the way.
And indeed the whole situation does look a little uneasy. Your duck was
with you, and on Coigny's side, when you got her pounds out before the
pound fell. It will fall still farther. I hadn't realised that Hilda
still had goods (yours of course, really) still in storage, but these might
as well be cleared up. If you go into Maggs -- I doubt you have time--
you can verify on the slipcase for Helen (I go to New York to see her on
Thursday), but I imagine everything will already be in order. I said 3/4
blue morocco. How kind of Elsie to send copies of the gardens. Perhaps the
boys have a picture postcard of the palazzo for sale to the villagers.

Susan keeps on with the chores at the big house. One never can
tell. Last night when I went home everything was as calm as a mill stream
of heavy cream. I only hope today will be the same. Now I must go to fetch
my car. They have been working on the engine so that it will not leak oil.
Now it should be A per se. Afterwards I will go to Goodrich Street and weed
for a half hour. I am bored with the office.

All the best, Norman

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

20 July 1966

Dearest Fido,

Really rather a quiet day which began with a few errands,
was interrupted by a longish lunch with a former student (female) just
back from Greece and a divorce who now wants to get an advanced degree
in the History of Art and sought my advice.

Last night was quiet too, so far as activity was concerned,
though not in terms of noise. For we had a long series of severe thunder
storms and heavy rains that made Susan lift her arms in thanks. We did
go over to the big house to look at some pictures and a few chairs she
wondered if she should choose, but got back just in time to escape
drenching. Susan started to read the Whitall <u>British Agent</u> but got
only ten pages in it when she found it a jumble of misbinding and
missing leaves. I have sent it back to Goulden & Curry and written
them a note in explanation. It is not their fault of course, but I
imagine they will return to the publishers and replace. I forgot to
say that I had a letter from the Oxford Press yesterday saying that
Islay had been prompt in his reply and that all is in order for their
use of his four photos in Mr McNeill's "A World History."

I keep plugging at small reports. One on last year's
lecture committee, a job of chairmanship of which I am fortunately
more or less finished. Then a report to the State Department on
Mr Kim the Korean. The proofreading of the French and German language
examinations to be given in the Fall (life will be a little easier then,
for getting them done now). And a farewell longish call from a younger
member of the English Department who is leaving 'ale for Cleaveland.

Your letter of the 18th arrived this morning, for which my thanks.
No, I did not try to read the Nin diary, although I daresay I should. Robert
Duncan who was her secretary for awhile in Paris, a chief duty being to copy
out from her intentionally Boswellian efforts (she feels she will be famous
for them). Perhaps she will get better when she starts sleeping with more
interesting companions. As I have said on other occasions, if you don't
want to keep it for your archives, send it along and I will add it to mine.
But if you do, do post it; no reason to burden yourself by such a needless
weight. #The photograph of Doris's cousin I should think would go Dean. #The
Percy Walker book will be a birthday present for you. So do not buy. The book
on the Geats has been postponed, alas, until Christmas. I had ordered it.

Tomorrow I go to New York so as to see Helen before she leaves.
I will lunch with Kay Boyle and try to get an early train back, as we are
invited to Thornton Wilder's to hear him read some new writing (plays? a novel?)
I shall have to listen wisely and nod profoundly.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

22 July 1966

Dearest Fido,

Your letter of the 19th was waiting for me when I returned
from New York, but there was not time for answering it. I am delighted
that the Chaplin book fulfills its function. Lend it until it's worn
out, or nearly so, and then send it to the Maladaires. # I do think now
that you have become a sponsor of palazzi that you ought to see Philip's
in France. It would be an easy pop-over to Nice, as you say, and this
would give the chance for a quiet hour with Romaine. Elsie, if she didn't
want to go to the studio could put on her bikini and toss a bladder-ball
with the boys and girls on the plage. But I do think it would be fun to
see the chateau, and Philip would certainly be pleased and complimented.

Even a day away from the office piles up papers. I have just
answered a letter from Clifford Maggs whom I had prodded through his cousin
into really getting going with the repairs to the binding of the *Roman*. He
says Sagorski says it is only a question of the leather having rotted over
the centuries, and so he will simply repair the binding but put into a
buckram slip cover, or rather case. I have also written John Maggs who
wrote he had received your ms and was going ahead with it. I said to send
the bill to you directly? Was that right?

Horace's nurse had to be paid. She writes a little progress
report each week, or rather each five days. "Physio-therapy," she says,
"has greatly increased and he is persevering well. Our day is very full
with routine care--Hubbard Tank and waling using the walker with support so
far -- In between the therapist execises, Mr Gregory uses the tank and whirl-
pool on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Walking in the morning as well as the
afternoon, daily." It is good to know he is doing so well, but I was not
wrong in being doubtful that he would go home in July. I really don't see
how Marya could cope domestically, and of course he would not have the
advantage of the equipment for his therapy.

The final check for the calendar year came in from Random House,
for Pantheon+- for $1960.66, making a total for 1966 from them of $3,989.80.
Your earlier check from Harcourt was for $318.59, so if you receive about the
same amount at the end of the year, or the Fall, you will have gotten a total
of nearly $4,500. You will be able to support yourself! Actually, I suspect
there are not too many writers in the States, who earn as much, especially
from back sales. Since you paid for Hilda's book and Ghandaran, I simply
deposit these with you. The census of sales is

Beowulf 447 copies. Really, I can only believe they think this is about the Geats!
October 371. Plus 41.72 dollars as your royalty from Collins.
Ghandara 12
Player's Boy 198
Roman Wall 416
Tribute to Freud 41
Gate 242
Ruan 356

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

When I saw Helen, she said that *January* was probably already in
page proof, and we thought that any English publisher who might be inter-
ested in it would probably be better off to see it in print rather than in
manuscript. Actually my own hunch is that once Trevelyan turned it down
it became too late for the Hastings year, especially with so many books
published on that general age earlier this year. It may even be better
to let it lie for a bit at least until after the American publication
and the reviews here. At any rate Helen will sniff the field when she is
in London in August.

The enclosed note came from Author's. No, I'd better take a photo-
copy of it for myself before I send it along or try to explain it.

Most of the day has been spent reading a manuscript on the history
of trotting horses as exemplified in 19th century American sporting prints.
Not really my field, except as social history, but this was a chore for the
Smithsonian who are thinking of publishing it as the work of one of their
staff. I'll write my report on it tomorrow and send it back on Monday. The
pile of unread mss behind me gets a little lower, I am glad to say.

Susan keeps going on the distribution. Yesterday morning the
sisters did their shopping and in the afternoon divided what little jewelry
there. Susan got an opal bracelet and wasn't upset to miss getting her
mother's favorite opal necklace. Today they have gone to the aunt's house
to divide the family furniture there, and then back to the big house to
tackle the still remaining pile. Tomorrow is the last day they can work
for the time being, as one sister must go back to Boston after a fortnight
here.

I will tell you about last evening at the Wilders' in tomorrow's
letter. I hope your trip to London is coming off.

All love as always,

N O R M A N

H O L M E S

P E A R S O N

2 3 1 H G S

Y A L E U N I V E R S I T Y

N E W H A V E N · C O N N

23 July 1966

Dearest Fido,

The morning I spent reading a 35-page ms of an article on Negro writing, by a former student who is teaching in our summer seminar; and then wrote the report on the ms of the book on trotting horses, for the Smithsonian Institution. Then moved another smallish bookcase into my office; it makes the room frightfully crowded but I thought I had better grab as I could. The janitor had rescued it from somewhere and brought it with friendly pride. The room becomes like a rabbit warren. You will see.

No letter from you today, but I forget whether or not I had written yesterday before or after yours of the 20th. Don't misunderstand me; I too worry about the pensioners and will be glad to have the list when you have time to make it out. But surely, as you say, this is something you can do in the States. Meanwhile it is better to keep at your files or at whatever novel or memoir you are secretly writing.

The Creed on Beowulf was really a joke. To defend Petrie. Even John Dppe, with whom I lunched today, said he wasn't sure he himself could follow it. His own book is still not available. Your birthday may be greeted only with promissory notes.

Two yellowbacks arrived and having finished the ms report I went through them. Lethbridge I had not realised was ill. The Nor Nour results seem a little anti-climactic, though Miss Dudley keeps on bravely. I am so glad that Hilda Quick had a good trip. And poor Herfie sounds lonelier than ever. What a wretch of a daughter not to leave a forwarding address. One really wishes, out of curiosity, to know what the original story was.

Our evening at Thornton Wilder's was most interesting. We were
bidden to be there sharply at 8:30. We rang the bell on the alarm clock signal.
But actually two other couples arrived afterwards, and Donald Gallup and the
Liberts of the Rare Book Room were already there as well as two of Thornton's
sisters. Chairs were arranged in a three-quarter circle facing a table where
Wilder was to sit. We were given drinks to work on while we listened. Then
down the stairs bounced the maestro, bubblingly hostful like a preacher at
services. He sat down with a notebook and announced that we were going to
hear excerpts from the new novel he has just finished, *The Eight Day*. (It
took seven days to create the world, and then the history of man began.) He
reads very well, like the actor he is naturally and has been professionally.
And the prose is lively and clean-cut and sharp. It is the story of a number
of generations of a family of a murderer and the murdered. "How do you begin
a story and how do you end it?" he quoted from Gertrude, and in a sense that
was the theme of the book, as portrait after portrait was unfurled. In it he
jumps around in time in order to destroy time, and this, as he said, was a
gift from Gertrude too. He read steadily for an hour and a quarter, and then
we rose for freshened drinks and his praise and company chit-chat, only after

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

fifteen minutes to find that we had been in an intermission. I shall now give you a postscript, he called out, and down we obediently and willingly sat. Quite importantly he gave us a kind of Freudian-Jungian background to the plot as we had heard it, by which the characters in the novel all became the pantheon of classical gods -- gods whom, he said, the classical age had created out of themselves. One is an Athena type, another a Mercury, until all twelve had been represented and the problem of religions added to that of time. And the problem of history. And people asked why he liked bringing in Peru and Chile into his books, and how his style had changed and why. Altogether a PhD candidate would have had his dissertation written for him.

I said Thornton was all bubbly as he entered; he was all sober concentration as an artist when he read. And it was extraordinary to see him so moved by his own writing that he wept at times, as did his sister Isabel, so completely did he give himself to the reality of his creative act.

I still think that some day he will be given the Nobel Prize, and when he does the American critics will wake up and blink in surprise.

I think you would have enjoyed the evening of reading rather more than an evening of conversation with him, mostly because we both enjoy creators rather than professional hosts.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

27 July 1966

Dearest Fido,

No letter from you again today, so I judge you must be in
London busily at work there. I hope you allow yourself at least a mo-
ment of fun --in just what form you will have been the only one to de-
cide.

My own day has gone to a few errands first. Rather spend-
thriftly I had ordered six copies of the _Land to the West_ since I think
it the best of that sort of account of the itch. It is as you know out
of print both in England and here, but had been remaindered. Roysce
Smith dug these remaindered copies up for me to keep in stock for gifts.
Let me know if you ever want one sent. Then I revised a little on my
annual report to the President and gave it to Mrs Sherman to retype for
a final once-over tonight. This year's report, with all the administra-
tive blows, is particularly important. The rest of the day, after a
lunch with a young German scholar, I have spent in reading a manuscript
monograph on O'Neill's _The Iceman Cometh_ for a lady professor who sent
it from Florida and out of the blue. I hope good deeds can pile up for
cerdit in heaven.

To return to your letters of the 21st(2), the 22nd and the
23rd. I have not spoken of Wilson's pronouncements, but I must say they
make me mightily uneasy. Nor can I quite see how the economy will be
helped along the lines he wants it to be if he persists in the nationali-
zation of steel and the cutting of domestic purchasing. It is an anomaly
that the Britosh themselves are never to be allowed the advantage of the
greater personal prosperity. Even the Russians seem more fortunate in this
respect. I shall be eager for your account of the sniff of things in the
U.K. Marianne's letter continues to give the impression that she slips
a bit. But I doubt that Prutting or anyone can help, and she must be
allowed the privilege of slipping in her own shoes. Sylva's letter about
her sister was doubly sad: because it will put a greater burden on her in
the care of her demanding mother (I wonder if this will put the kibosh on
her teaching appointment in the States next spring? I suspect it will, from
what she said when she was here.); and because of her remarks about her
mother's higher opinion of her sister than on Sylva -- one could sense a
sad sibling rivalry. Yes, the Dusty Diamonds continue to be brought up
from the mines. I have rather splurged at the moment and bought for £22 a
set of the first fifteen volumes of _Our Captain_. We had only Vol. One, with
a Henty interview in it. Why not simply send the additional Kenneth letters
over, and you can read them while on this side. I can put in folders now
during the summer while there is more leisure. As to his possible wards,
he should of course look after his stepmother. The Doctoressa I have talked
about at length with him. He was worried because she takes the money he gives
her and passes it on to a daughter or son. I reassured him that it gave her
pride, which was a gift to her in itself. She is a kind of status symbol to
him, and connects him with Graham Greene who also contributes to her as you
and Kenneth do. What an extraordinary story about M. Coigny's son. He had
told me at length about him when we lunched. He seems to have handled it in
a sensible Swiss-lawyer fashion.

Must run now to pick up the laundry & then read a bit at
Goodnight. All love, Herman

NORMAN

HOLMES

PEARSON

231 HGS

YALE UNIVERSITY

NEW HAVEN • CONN

28 July 1966

Dearest Fido,

Fido, I write letters from you today, and so again I feel in contact. Yours of the 23, 25th and 26th for which my thanks. How kind you were to tote your typewriter to the third floor of the Sesame. It was above and beyond the call of duty, but I am most grateful even though I do not fear your script as much as you fear I fear it.

Collect stamps myself? No, not really, not at all. I have saved them for Elsie and the Brigadier and for small sons of friends. Now it is fun to give them over to Justus for whom they provide a diversion and even a little education. He will be particularly delighted with the one you enclosed. It is fun for a collector to see a page filled or filling. At the moment he is still in Ohio where he went with his paternal grandmother for a week. At the weekend they will be moving to the shore for August and early September.

It must indeed be fun to be incog in London. I think you should do it oftener. Indeed I think you will. And I am delighted at your splash to Lullingstone. Gradually your Puritanism is breaking down, and why not. Tomorrow's mail may tell me all. I'd splash too on the desk and bookcases. If they come together it might cut down the shipping expenses a little, but no matter. It will be nice to please Elsie, and sensible to have a place for books. Don't talk to me on that score! I have just squeezed another case into my office, and it is like a rabbit warren. And still no extra shelf room for tomorrow's books. All in all the main thing is to make clear that you have no estate in London.

The day has been rather dull in spirit as in weather. It rained some early, fortunately, but the rest has been warm and muggy. Rather too ad since we have a group of Japanese at the shore tonight. I took the car to the garage and had a new front headlight installed. By now surely I must have erased all the blemishes. Then went over my report to the president and gave to be typed. And then corrected a graduate school German exam, which fortunately passed. Then finished a 50page monograph, in typescript, by a professor in Florida (unknown to me) on O'Neill's *The Iceman Cometh*. An all-out Freudian approach. She found the structure to move in and out in a copulative fashion. Each rap on the table was a thrust of the penis. I daresay this might be true in the analysis of certain individuals, but so far as the play is concerned it would take more than thirty hours on the couch to make certain. Still, she said many good things. I think she wanted me to sponsor it for a publisher. I returned it with thanks.

All love, v welcome home.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

29 July 1966

Dearest Fido,

What a splendid Roman mosaic on the card you sent. I do
regert not seeing Lullingstone, but we should have managed to work it
into our Hastings visit I can't imagine. Obviously this calls for a
second tour. But then you see I hardly know England except as you have
led me to it.

Your letter of the 27th came this afternoon with it, so
I shared both your disappointment and your triumph. Altogether I
should call the trip a complete success. You do not mention the torque,
but you certainly achieved a good deal otherwise, and perhaps it too.
It really was rather absurd of storage to dig up two more trunks, but
made all the more reason for you to follow through. Much more importantly
you have rather broken the ice for an occasional ausflug on your own.
I suspect there will be more in the future? Why not?

The mail also brought a pleasant letter from Silvia Dobson.
A apparently she plans six books in all. This she will send in mid-August.
But why must she address me as Professor Normal Holmes Pearson. I should
much prefer being a Tiresia Norma. That at least would infer that I had
sensitivity.

I keep on at my housecleaning, finishing up and sending off
my report to the President. He will not read it of course, but at least
it is off my shoulders and conscience. Then I filled in various forms
to be sent out, and finally concentrated on the papers which were handed
to me as this year's president of the New England College English Ass ocia-
tion, a task which I have not touched thus far, with my term half over.
But I roughed out a program for the Fall, and sorted the papers into
some order, and threw out innumerable duplicates of documents that had
no earthly utility.

Last night we deliciously took out the visiting Japanese
professor, and another Japanese and his wife who have been here all year,
to the Captain's Walk in Guelford, stopping first to show them the old
houses and fulfill their destinies as Japs by taking countless photographs
in the dusk. They reveled with broiled live lobsters and became slightly
tipsy on a cocktail apiece. I was a little startled when the younger
married man suddenly said, as I sipped a second martini during the half
hour wait, "You must be a very heavy drinker!" I asked why. "Because your
face does not grow red," was his definitive reply.

Red nose at night, sailor's delight -- as the adage goes.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

30 July 1966

Dearest Fido,

A frittering day, and yet my desk is a little cleaner because of it. There was no letter from you to divert me, but I was with you, so to speak in spirit, as I checked our dusty diamonds against the cards I had ordered of the Sadleir Collection now at the University of California in Los Angeles. They have much that we do not, but on the whole we stand up very well indeed in an overall sense: a little better in Ballantyne, very much better in Kingston and Fenn, and about fifty-fifty (neither very good for Marryat. And of course they don't touch Stables, Breton and the like who are at least dusty garnets. A miscellaneous lot of Henties (presumably American editions) has turned up in Long Island, and I have sent off a list of what we lack in that genre. As you know, in later years Henty's books had their first editions in the States before the British appearances. It all took time, but in the course of doing so I had a sudden thought about the two Henty's for which we had cards but you couldn't find. They were of course in the Miscellanies, and indeed I found a half-dozen more firsts there that I had not thought of in that connection. I learn as I go.

Then I paid bills, the nurses etc. (the hot weather has set Horace back a little, or at least discouraged him), and balanced my check book. Then read the typescript of a book review by a former student who is teaching here this summer and gave it proudly to me. Then went over the various manuals and lists for a new complete edition of Washington Irving, and sent back a note on one or two matters I could set straight for them. Then worked at papers and wrote miscellaneous letters, and have tried to prove myself a true son of the Puritans in thus giving up my Saturday.

A letter from Goulden and Curry saying they were sorry about THE SPY. When the copy I returned, surface, reaches them, they will return it to the publisher, and when the publisher adjusts the matter and reprints the substitute to them, then they will send it on to me. I am really in no hurry for I shall never catch up with reading I already have. But I almost think if I were trying to stimulate British export trade, and considering the amount you buy from them, that I in their place would have simply sent along another instanter, simply saying they would return the other when it arrived.

People who dream up prizes themselves deserve medals. But I am intrigued most of all by the first Winterfest Prize which is annually to be awarded "for the best volume published in the previous year by a resident of Massachusetts, or dealing in the main with Boston or with Massachusetts." These are the lines straight down from God.

1 August 1966

Dearest Fido,

The best of Mondays, since the morning mail brought your letter of the 27th from London, and of the 29th and 30th from Kenwin. It is good to have you home again, although I can only repeat that this appears to have been a wonderfully successful trip in every way.

It was good of the driver to remember me. I shall greet him in spirit, Maples could not altogether have been fun, though I like your having the family photographs safely in hand at Kenwin and duly marked by your pencilled notation on the back. I hope you have done this with all of them. There will be no difficulty about the extra trunk still in storage, but M. Coigny will no doubt have complimented you on your successful mission. Nothing in the newspapers leads one to believe things will be soon better, and one might as well be tidy against the worst. #I was sorry to hear that Dorothy Richards was feeling so miserable. I am afraid England, or at least the English climate, is not for either her or her husband. And the realization must sadden them. I do not really worry about their income, for he must go on squirreling it away, and the Harvard pensions for a professor of his status are not at all bad. Still....!

No marsupial could have travelled with an ampler pouchfull than you did on your return, and I am intrigued that the second torque turned into a troop of brooches. That should make them more valuable -- and easier -- to dispose of. Or you could display them as a cockney does his buttons. The Parisian ones sound gay and fun. C costume pieces from that period are again in vogue, and properly so, for they had a real style. I suppose they are what are sometimes described here as "elderly" rather than "antique." I should not worry about your right to take anything out, but one might have worried about the implications as to estate had they remained at Coutts. It was for this reason that I mentioned them in passing to M. Coigny when we discussed your will. I still think that was a valuable interview, and it might be a good idea to make a habit of chatting with him when I am over. If Kenneth should ever come up, it would sensible for you to take him too.

How marvelous of the old dame to associate you with the Dietrich. How jealous our Hilda would have been! I can't think that this is the feminine of bloke, but perhaps it will serve. The nearest American might be dame, but not in a Sitwellian sense. Actually I can't believe there is a true equivalent, one's general respect for the female species being so high.

And many thanks for Guenelande Venelande. Now we can go.

Yesterday I finished reading Lady Vyyvan's *Journey Up the Years*. As you say, it is spotty, and I'm afraid the Maharanee of Sarawak didn't quite come through to me, except possibly in her letters. But obviously she was quite a dame. Indeed the dame, for Lady V, who seems to have juggled Oenone's and Maharanees quite skillfully with her own colonel. The British manage these things remarkably well. I think I most enjoyed her description

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

of the war years. I know of nothing quite like it for the county point of view. When she writes, "First there came eight evacuees, five of whom were bed-wetters," she has said everything. I marvel at her concision. Seriously. But she was good also in recognising the difference between the country and London in wartime, and she had done of that condescension one sometimes found in the provinces. I dropped her a note about the book this morning, and now can thank you properly. Susan will be reading it shortly.

I forgot to mention Kenneth's letter, and I wonder if his New York publishers hedge a little in wanting the book to come out in London first. I really can't think it makes any difference. I was, moreover, a little perturbed about the possibility of Doris's permanence at the palazzo. No matter how withdrawn her quarters, her continued presence must change the tenor of their lives considerably. Not that one has orgies, but meals are not quite so gay with mammas at one side. I fear it may get on Kenneth's nerves as well as Islay, and that he is as anxious to get to Capri as he is to get Islay there. And what is the later trip they plan? Back to Pakistan? I was delighted that he was so delighted with the Gandharan lovers in stone. I was sure he would be!

Perhaps too blithely, when I saw Helen, I said that I thought you might be willing to give a properly discreet interview or two to the Press when you were in town. Both she and the nice Miss Lindley seemed delighted, and the latter has written to ask precisely how long you plan to stay. I said preferably not until after Labor Day (Sept 5th) for interviews. She has written the Times, the Tribune, and the Saturday Review to ask if they are interested. There is also, of course, the possibility of a t.v. interview in New Haven, so that you can rival Dorothy Richards.

I am sorry to bother you with the enclosed problem. But the affair with Authors seems more complicated than I had thought. Since I can't send a photocopy of the will saying I own her copyrights, which for safety sake I purchased again from you, can you have Jacques Coigny draw up a statement for you to sign that you inherited all not already mine and that I purchased them from you. After all, as I wrote the lady, in saying I would write you, Hilda was an American citizen at the time of her death. Strange too, because BBC and others have always paid without question. But this no doubt is a part of the new tightening up.

Now I must pick up and go to the final dinner for the students in the summer program. Susan will come in from the shore and join me at Mory's. Today she has been back at work at her mother's house, beginning to divide the linen and go through the closets, drawers and attic. This morning I took two broken chairs from the big house to be fixed by the cabinet maker, only to find myself turned into a mortician as I helped the man to dispose of a dead cat in the street. He didn't want to touch it, so we worked with shovels.

2 August 1966

Dearest Fido,

These are really dog days, and I feel like a dog
sliding down hill. I don't quite seem to have the same drive,
perhaps partly because I have nearly cleared up the mass of
reports and can't quite face the articles I am supposed to
write, the weeding I should do, and the countless personal
answers to chatty letters from abroad which I kept pushing
into a pile. I also have a good deal to do in cleaning up
the physical aspects of the office, but this latter is better
done after Mrs Sherman goes on vacation and I have the place
to myself.

I started off today by a visit to the dentist. He
found a bad spot on the root of a molar, and I am scheduled for
an hour and a half of hell on Friday morning. Then I worked
on formal answers to letters, and answered the phone--Mrs Sher-
man having stayed home to type the last of a book Prof. Lewis
has fortunately been able to write on the Cape where he has been
on vacation since the beginning of June. Then I saw an old
student and went over his prospectus for a book on THE BLACK
CHRIST. After finishing my criticism I picked him up off the
floor where he had collapsed and then took him to lunch. After
luncheon as I settled down to work, in came Prouty wanting to
tell me about his trip to England and his visit to the Shakespeare
festival in Stratford, Ontario where he gave a couple of lectures.
They were a great success, he told me, and indeed he seemed in full
bloom, both in disposition and flesh.

Swiss holidays meant no letter from you today, but I
shall storm the mailroom tomorrow to read of your and Elsie's high
jinks over the weekend.

Your papers will of course fully have covered Camelot,
but I thought there might be just a chance that the reports to the
States were slanted differently.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

5 ₋ August 1966

Dearest Fido,

A rather shiftless day in which I have never seemed quite to settle down. I arrived promptly at the office a little before nine --Mrs Sherman has gone to Maine -- in order to give a farewell greeting to the high school teachers who have been in the summer session. Then to the dentist for a nine-thirty appointment. By bad luck (of good, since I already had a dentist appointment this morning) a gold inlay fell out in my mouth as I was eating shredded wheat. (Why shredded wheat? Molasses I could understand!) So he put that back in, did a filling on a root and gave me a treatment for a pain at the back of my mouth. The morning then being late I went to cash a check for pocket money, and tried to get the cabinet maker to fix pegs for my bookcase but he wasn't in his shop. And so the morning went. And then there were the two teachers of the summer program to take to lunch, and I couldn't quite get down to anything except filing more of your letters in the other room. However I will seem all the more, or less orderly as a consequence, when you come later in the month.

You ask about stamp collecting in the States. Collectors of U.S.A. stamps usually like them uncancelled and in full blocks or blocks of four with the plate number included. This is sometimes done for U.K. stamps too. But generally speaking skilled collectors prefer lightly cancelled stamps, "improving" their copies as the opportunity arises. Actually for stamps from Linchtenstein and South African republics and certain central american countries the cancelled stamps are worth more, since (monaco is another example) the issues are made chiefly for collectors and sold as minted. Candelled examples are much rarer. So I start Justus as with cancelled, although I will buy a few unused ones just to make his book gay.

I have forgotten whether I commented on the bookcases yesterday. But I repeat that you can buy quote a lot of shelfroom in Switzerland for the £130 it would cost to get the others over. And what a nuisance to clear them through customs etc.

I saw in a British book catalogue that they offered for $5.00 a copy you had given and inscribed of Sachs' _Caligula_. It didn't say to whom, just "From Bryher."

I shall work away again tomorrow on the files. Once the letters are in I shall start going through the individual folders to arrange chronologically and discover problems for you to solve later.

Helen will be with you shortly, and this should be fun.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

6 August 1966

Dearest Fido,

After yesterday's dog-weather, today wakened to be as
clear and cool as September. In going by the bay at Short Beach I
could see the trees on Long Island. But I'm not sure I've profited
immensely from the spurt. I spent the morning finishing reading a
book on Hawthorne and God which had been given me just after Susan
broke her hip. It was glowingly inscribed to me both in the inked
dedication and in the printed acknowledgements, for I helped to
see the man thru his doctorate at Notre Dame when his university
appealed to me to help him with the dissertation. But nothing
can make me think Hawthorne really wanted to be a Catholic, not
even, or especially a Catholic critic; so I contented myself finally
in praising the revised whole by concentrating on the chapter about
Hawthorne and sex. But I am really delighted that the man begat
a book, for that makes him an academic family man; and I am truly
sorry not to have congratulated him on his fatherhood long since.

Following a lunch with one of the editors of Jonathan
Edwards (I really have few duties with that edition now, I am glad
to say), I wrote the letter to the author I mentioned above, and
being bored turned to begin filing some of the contents of the year's
yellowbacks. After last year's summer's row I am doing this myself.
I adore nudism but abhore the indecency of exposing my mail and yours.
What an incredible mess the colored girl and others have gotten the
letters. I simply cannot understand what has happened to some of the
correspondences, or rather why there are no folders for them. But
following your suggestion I am moving the dead files to the bottom
drawers, and will hope to get the others into some sort of rough
order for you to spit on and polish when you come. The office will
be ours completely, Mrs Sherman being on Holiday.

Your note of the 31st came today, so that I know we are on
the same wave-length and perhaps E.S.P. through our efforts with filing
cabinets. No doubt there was more that you might have brought back from
London, but there will be other times and other torquelets. A very nice
idea it seems to me to give some of Hilda's oddments to Pup.

I enclose the newest commemorative for Etsie. There has been
a great to-do about it with Poland who will not let any letters thus
stamped enter their country. The eagle is the imperial one, not the
communist.

7 August 1966

Dearest Fido,

You get rather the short end of the stick today, for having
been much interrupted in anten-month-overdue letter to Hansen I resolved
to finish it before beginning yours. And now there is hardly time for
anything except a gesture of love.

The day began when I met the head of the company that tends
our lawns at Goodrich Street and we went over the sprinkler system together
for an hour, testing each nozzle. He would not do it so well were I not
standing by him, though hardly over him. Then once at the office I found
an instructor with a paper he was submitting, with the request that I
read it at once. It being the first he has written I could not say no,
but it took the time until lunch when the man from Delaware appeared
with his boss's daughter who was the friend of the Maharenee of Sikkin
and had been out for her wedding and once since. They had flown up in
daddy's plane this morning to rent a house for next year for the head
forester of Sikkim who will study forestry here. Yale has a famous
school in forestry as you may know, perhaps the best. I never did
gather why she was so involved, for she said the Maharenee had nothing
to do with it; and since the head forester has a wife and child coming
too, I should gather the young girl here did not expect to return with
him to Sikkim as the head forestress. I was involved because the Wemyss
Foundation, which her father established, deals with American Studies,
and also I suspect so that I could show the girl around the new buildings.
But she was nice and I enjoyed everything save the loss of time.

Your letter of the 1st arrived today. I thought you would
enjoy at least the fact of Britain's football victory. I am sure Ethel
must have rubbed nose against the t.v. set!

The test tomorrow.

N O R M A N

H O L M E S

P E A R S O N

2 3 1 H G S

Y A L E U N I V E R S I T Y

N E W H A V E N · C O N N

9 August 1966

Dearest Fido,

Three letters today, one of the 2nd and two of the 3rd. So I celebrate. What a pity that bonfires should become confused with electric lights. I remember so well my Midsummer Night in Oslo, the first after the liberation. All Norwegians had refrained from fires until Midsummer, so as to make a double celebration. It certainly was. I was asked to go in uniform and by jeep to as many as possible, and usually I was the first American they had seen, just as for so many children it was their first bonfire. "Sister in Chicago," they would say bravely in their few words of English, and want the children to shake my hand. I hadn't realised how the Swiss had converted the pagan ceremony into a national fete. Nor that William Tell had been bowdlerized. Probably because of Jung they read the apple as a symbol of sexual knowledge, and are itchy about shooting an arrow into it in public. (You must try out Elsie on that interpretation.) And are the Swiss as promiscuous as the Scandinavians on such a night?

I know what you mean about the unserious books one accumulates, John's gifts especially among them. I am always interested to know who his clients are, but seldom get time to read them. Susan does that. I simply feel guilty.

Judo has never appealed to me, but if only you will go with me or us to Japan I'll buy you a judo-garb and get someone on the mat with you, while I use my Leica to memorialize it.

You were wise to act promptly on the Maggs catalogue. The things sound interesting. Here, getting the catalogues by surface, one is always too late to act on them. Big buyers get them by airmail, as I do the catalogues of Brimmell. I pay extra of course.

Elsie and Ines develops into a situation like that between Susan and the cook we took over from her mother. And I do suspect that Ines may be acting up a little out of the new confidence her permit gives her, and the sense of an ally in yourself. The refusal of meat is of course voluntary martyrdom, but as someone once wisely said, never stop a man on his way to a crucifix.

Poor Jacques Beney. I can see how difficult this must be, especially, as I pointed out, because it would both be his chance and his possible ruin. There really isn't any point in bringing anything over with you but the general Winson statements, *not* the individual transfer slips as one holding is exchanged for another. I go over those when in Switzerland, especially because I know it is sincere to do so. But it is all history, and I am not to have a weekly interview as you do there is no meaning in it. When one leaves these out, there are usually not more than a half dozen sheets, one of which has to be signed and returned to them. I can do that by mail so you carry nothing back.

I had my answer from Mrs Jackson, and enclose it having already replied to her. I will return the letter by Monday's post. Poor thing, she is having a hard time of it. But I doubt we can help her.

All love,
Norman

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

9 August 1966

Dearest Fido,

A second, end-of-the-day note. Today I have spent mostly, and unusually, on Hawthorne. There were several letters bought me which I had not transcribed and put properly in the files; a packet from several years back of letters from Waller Barrett's collection; and a group of xerox of a half-dozen new (to me) letters in the collection of a young Detroit man. I still need to index the texts, but the rest is done. Hawthorne letters are increasingly scarce. I do not really seek them out but concentrate instead on your Dusty Diamonds ("mine" too, of course, thanks to your seduction.) I had a phone call from a friend who is a librarian on Long Island and had found a cache of Henties, the American editions as I surmised. But he found 13 new first Americans for us, @3.00 per volume, which seemed cheap enough to me; and as you know in the later years the British editions followed the American ones rather than preceded them.

POOLREFLECTION arrived today as from London, with Kenneth's signature in it. My thanks. It will go into the bloodbank. So did yours of the 7th, in the afternoon mail. I hope I will be privileged with a copy of as many as seem wise for the archives. I like the idea of you and a lion as much as you with a bulldog. It is splendid that Helen can make her choice for publicity.

A letter from Hilda Lindley says that "Jerry Tallmer of the New York Post would like very much to interview Bryher when she is in New York about her new book as well as her writing career. Is there any day during the week of September 6th that would be particularly convenient for this interview?" How would the 8th or 9th be, when I have to be in town for a conference at Columbia. Then we could come back for the weekend. Let me know so I can let her know.

Yes, I like books about the Greek islands too, and sometimes fall for one and buy it. But they are full of cliches. I suspect the Greeks are cliched by now, but not Greece itself. Only one wants it and not words about it.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

11 August 1966

Dearest Fido,

No letter from you today, but I have been so blessed by them lately -- you will hardly be able to keep up while Helen is with you --that I cannot complain. Indeed I have been away from the office a good deal. I came in this morning really to see if there was mail and lay out Mrs Sherman's day -- tomorrow she goes on her vacation until after Labor Day, and with the office empty I hope to settle in for some long overdue writing commitments. I have an introduction to a book to write, plus two articles for two encyclopedias, and (how many?) reviews. Three if I can manage them. Two I must.

Then to Hartford for a joint meeting of the Planning Board (of which I am Chairman) and the Executive Committee of the Mark Twain Memorial. At eleven, which was a fiendish hour for me to have to drive to get to; but I did not stay for lunch afterwards, coming back for a sandwich at a nearby counter instead. And from then on, not quite able to get down to anything after a series of semi-duty letters I began to throw away things out of my files. Folder after folder of notes I had taken for articles I meant to write, clippings that I thought someday might be useful, dried-out pipe dreams, how much time one spends preparing for a future that never comes. I mean of course that future "when there will be time." Since I'm so unsure about "time" I can at least prepare for "space." At the moment I can't cram anything anywhere. Wait until you see!

I am now filled with a new idea for the beginning of your visit. You see I can whirl up plans like a dervish. But yesterday I called Williamstown for the Melville-Hawthorne clam bake, to discover that my talk is not until Sunday morning the 4th. So my whim now is to put you to bed at the shore to rest for a day after your arrival, and then set out for Maine on the 27th, coming back for the 2nd and thus avoiding the Labor Day crowds. I can whip up to Williamstown for the Fourth. Susan is inclined to agree that this might be the freest. Whether she goes with us or not depends on how her house-breaking succeeds, and especially when her sister comes down from Massachusetts to divide up the final linens and the like. I suspect she may decide to stay, but I don't think she knows or can know as of the moment. I'll try not to be a Phyllistine; and promise you lunches, comfortable jails for overnight, and fields with plenty of sheep in them. And if we start at dawn you shall have a pasty or a shredded wheat to chew on as you study the map. Don't expect to see anything, but be satisfied simply that you've been there.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

12 August 1966

Dearest Fido,

Another day at the weeding of my filing cabinets, while I poise available to Mrs Sherman for directions as to how she should spend her last day. Most of hers was spent at files also, and she has really learned how to destroy. Actually her office looks, and is, in better order than for some time. Mrs Dingle's dilemma last late spring and summer and September before we were divorced left things in a frightful mess.

I still have a little way to go with my own, but I am transferring a few files to an empty drawer in my room in the Library, and put the old records of the Bryher Foundation in with your other papers. So that when I have tossed away my old Sunday School certificates, and Good Conduct Medals for my work in graduate seminars, I shall have space near at hand for the accumulations of folders having to do with the Dusty Diamonds.

The mail is light these days, while others take their holidays, so there is not as much for me to answer I am glad to say. But a letter from you, as of the 9th, arrived. For which my thanks. I am glad the Hughes lad turned out to be nice. I suppose the girl friend found herself less at ease. I still marvel at the way the young British couple up for their holidays. It is like Berlin in the late '20s and early '30s. But I think they lose the flavor of sex not to salt it with a little sense of sin. "English Language" had already begun to slip as an examination even when I was reading for the Schools at Oxford. One could answer questions in it on Grimm's Law, but most preferred to duck it and instead gnaw on to marshmallow questions like "Discuss B.B.C. English."

If only we could borrow some of your rain in this sixth consecutive year of drought. Fortunately I put the irrigation system in at Goodrich Street, so the lawns are not burnt yellow like most. We had a thunderstorm last night, our first rain in a month, but only a tenth of an inch fell. We had been at Lizzie's for dinner, my first visit to her one-half house in Killingworth. It is in the woods, as part of a development, and I must say she has made it into a most attractive spot. She has a vegetable garden behind the house, and a small flower garden by the entrance. The house is now chiefly furnished with things from her grandmother's but it is all arranged in good taste and gives a warm and friendly appearance. She does seem very much better, and is even dieting so that she has begun to lose her washerwomanly figure. I only hope she can keep it up.

A catalogue came today from Maggs, and I thought it might be the one you had ordered from. Nothing I needed or even wanted. But I was amused at *Vox Piscis* which above it as a headline, A BOOK SAID TO HAVE BEEN FOUND INSIDE A FISH IN CAMBRIDGE MARKET. With such an introduction it seemed only fitting that the description began, "A little damp-stained."

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

I unsealed the letter, having forgotten to mention that Susan yesterday received a letter from Ethel saying she now had some bulbs for Susan, especially two Pepys. It was a pity we didn't know in time so she could have send them to you at the Sesame. I suppose there isn't time now to have her airmail them to you (you once said there was no problem between the U.K. and Switzerland) so that you could smuggle them in. The others could wait, but the Pepys would be exciting. You remember how proud Doris was of them.

I had lunch with the Glikin today. I can see how she might rub some the wrong way. She is one of those little New York Jewish women scholars who bull ahead as though they were founding Israel. She doesn't really understand why the Cornish stiffen when she walks in their home and wants to buy their books and letters of D.R., but she is learning. And one can only be amazed at how much she has dug up. It takes bulling. She wants to do the right thing, as is learning how.

Love,
Hab

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

15 August 1966

Dearest Fido,

I did not write you on Saturday nor on Sunday either. And now I have waited so long today before sitting down to be with you, that there can't be much more than a rubbing of noses. But even though I do no more than begin now, at least I can do that.

Saturday was spent in a visit to Horace first and then to Marya. Unfortunately I timed it so that just as I arrived, Horace had begun his after-lunch nap. I returned to the car and the New York Times and waited until he woke up and his nurse returned from her lunch. I must say it really does seem like a miracle. He keeps a busy day, rises to wash and for breakfast, then goes to the tank for water therapy, goes back to his room to dry and rest, then returns for an hour of walking, after which the nurse takes him out of doors in the wheelchair. He then lunches and rests and returns for an hour of walking (although I judge not a solid hour in either case.) But he blossoms, his cheeks are full, his face rested, he says his arms are stronger than ever, he reads omnivorously, and did not tire in the slightest during the three-quarters of an hour I was with him. I really think he will be going home soon. I asked if he could have the nurse go with him for the first few days, and I agreed. I think it a good idea while he gets used to the house and Marya gets used to having him there. I went on to see her later and she too looked well, although she complains of her right arm -- never really good after her operation. She was full of gossip of one sort or another and quite in her element. I made her get out her two candy boxes. Hers, as she showed proudly, was empty of bills. But there were a number in Horace's box (and as it turned out this afternoon when I was paying them, several for treatment of her. But, naturally, how could she know, since none of them were opened?) Alas, some went back to January. She had done nothing with the Blue Cross claim I sent her asking her to fill in their registration number. I shall really put them on their own when Horace gets home again. I can't dust their candy boxes.

Yours of the 10th came Saturday, and today of the 11th, 12th and 13th. I comment and run. As to Idlewild, yes by all means come straight to New Haven by the Connecticut limousines service. When you are finished with Customs the porter will take you to the phone to call them and they will put you on the next. Simply call, reversing the charge, New Haven 488-0237, either from Idlewild or from the Hotel Taft depending on where you have a moment's time, and I will drive in to the Taft and pick you up. Much better to sleep by the sea and be here for the morning. The aipport hotel is a nuisance, at a distant, and you wouldn't be here until noon the next day. We won't wait supper for you, and if you haven't managed to get a sandwich at Idlewild we'll stop at a Howard Johnson's on the way to Branford. No trouble at all, and we are too eager to see you to want to waste a half day. As for Zurich we have no needs at all. Just bring yourself, unwrapped.

I will start tomorrow with a letter to you. Then I will not be caught again.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

16 August 1966

Dearest Fido,

I said I would start the day with you, and so I am. A delivery
to the house from the shore, of extra china and glassware which we will
give to the International Student Center, and of pictures to go upstairs
in a guest room piled until we know what to do with them. Then to the
office where I hope today to begin with some of the promised articles.
Three yellowbacks came yesterday, which I read last night, and within them
the two cards from Mary Hotson telling of Leslie's concentration on his
scholarship and how too bad it was that Yale insisted on my writing as
well as my teaching. I whimper a little, though of course it is true
that I like both the classroom and the good one can do through a connection
with a university (even for a Hotson), and true too that by pinching a
little I could concentrate on writing. But the whimper is because I do
like writing, and don't do it just because I have to. For indeed, having
tenure, I don't have to. At any rate Leslie is a truly dedicated scholar
and he is at his last all day long. One can't ask for more out of a life.

To keep with the yellowbacks for the moment, I was greatly
taken by Martin Deigarno's letter, its maturity and good taste. Really
you were a kind of Athena-Artemis for him, and it is wonderful how he has
made the most of his chances. By taste, I mean his reference to his mother
and to the unmet siblings and his thanks to you. By maturity I mean the
way in which he seems to have taken the economic measures enforced by the
Palace. It is really a little rough for him to have to go through life ex-
plaining why it was he didn't have the last year he publicly won. I can understand
the Palace saying "this year is the last", but once announced the award
should be carried through point d-honneur.

Now back to your letters. Elsie didn't completely let the cat
out of the bag. Or at least you have given me the suspicion that there was
a bag with a possible cat in it. For you have been so good lately, and
laid such emphasis on the hours you have been spending on your files, that
(as with a small pup) I could only wonder what mischief you were actually
up to. I am delighted that Helen will have the chance at least to see the
carbon of most of it. I shall be eager to know what she thinks. It is all
most exciting.

Helen's comments on the Thomson-turndown sound quite possible
as an explanation, at least a partial explanation. I remember when I was
taking Kenneth's ROME: TWELVE NOON around the same answer was sometimes given.
"If he were a young man it would be different." I suspect too that if you
gave yourself over to straight porno it would also be different. Perhaps
you should try. Auden used to say that every author, at least once, tried
his hand at it. He certainly did, and years ago gave me a poem which I kept
well hidden in my files. But he must have given other copies to other
friends (since it was hardly a love poem), for now it has been surreptitiously
pirated, in an underground magazine which I have, and in a small edition of
which I have been told. But you can see how Wystan provides against his older
age. (He really must be furious at the piracy!)

She spoke to me about the possibility of Harvill, saying that Joy
Adamson had shifted to it for the same reason as yours: that she could not work
with Adrian House. The distribution through Collins is nothing more than as for

I was curious, and asked her what had happened. She told me with muted pride and satisfaction. The Lullington came this morning. I think I told you Poolreflection already had, as did the Hodgson oddment and the copy if Poetry Review. For all my thanks.

All love,
Norman

2

(At that moment an intermission while, for the English Department, I interviewed a prospective graduate school applicant. I told him, after looking at his record, that he didn't have a chance.)

Pantheon with Random House. How much you would have to work with Mes Villiers is a question -- you could leave the liaison entirely to Helen--, as if her Catholicism --which I suppose you could leave to Helen too--. But on these matters you are the only one to know how you feel. If one went with Harvill it would chiefly be to please Helen. The royalties aren't that much in any event,--certainly not compared to what she can expect from the unexpurgated Gasanova --what a goldmine Kurt got with that!-- but what would please Helen is making up with Collins on whom she still depends. (House doesn't matter.) Actually I have a suspicion, since the shift didn't work out, that Helen feels a bit that I interloped and broke up the Collins deal. I may be wrong, but this is my Tiresian sensibility at work. She used to feel it was impossible to go on with House, but in the end became a little timid. We can discuss when you come over.

As I wrote you yesterday, the thing for you to do is clear yourself in customs, then have the porter take you to the Connecticut limousine telephone, call us at our Branford number (thru the New Haven exchange) (just dial the number I gave you; or if in a rush ask the limousine company to call us, they will) and we meet you at the Taft. If you can't call until the Taft, phone from there and wait. We will have eaten, but if you haven't can stop for a sandwich or make you one at the shore. It is far better to sleep in your own bed, and wake with the gulls.

Bad luck with the Mageries, but I am glad you found the piece for Foy Q-C.

Your discussion with the Hughes boy parellets the newest movements on this side also. It is an aspect of "beat" though not necessarily accompanied by long dirty hair. As a kind of protest both one's self and "things" are supposed to be unstructured. Instead one has "happenings", things which simply occur without planning. A form of romanticism it is a dependence on the spontaneous self. Abstract expressionism is a manifestation of it; throwing paint on a canvass without bothering any more for abstraction is another. Just seeing what happens on its own at a party represents the phase. Thus one shucks the past and present too, for the present is never allowed to become a past.

This is of course quite different from the political angle, but even in this angle I suspect that a communist is no longer a marxist (which is highly structured).

I will do what I can to get you Sir Henry's article.

As to Hughes and assimilation, there is much in what he said. Second generation are always painfully aware of parents and where one first hung one's hat. The third generation takes it in stride. But there is not always any violent reaction even in second generation. The social class of the immigrant matters a great deal, as with the Italians in Switzerland. Both caste and language are barriers for an Ines.

It is splendid that Helen likes Islay's book so much. I am not surprised he writes so well. His letters are always clear and gay and move.

It is splendid too that Elsie's little envelopes finally are emptied and their contents put to work. This should have happened long ago, and I congratulate you on bullying her properly.

Am most happy that the visit with Helen went so well. I think things go very well for her at Harcourt, and she is now the mainstay of their trade list. Really their list is skimpy apart from what she offers. I was interested too that the man she feared as a rival, who came from Ambenaeum Press to do special lists like her own, was reduced to a simple code mark. Otherwise his are indistinguishable.

16 August 1966

Dearest Fido,

Your second letter of the 13th came this afternoon, and deserves a second letter from me. Not that there is much to say, but I can at least repeat that you should certainly be free to do as you choose with your own manuscripts. I wrote only to give the Helen-side of the picture; I do not think that a paramount concern. She only wants (a) to please you, and (b) keep in with Collins.

"The Colors of the Wall" sounds splendid. Helen may well be right about her needing another story to go with it for publishing purposes, but the main thing at the moment is that you have written it. I felt sure you couldn't hug the Wall so tightly after your visit with Phyllis not to have something born from the embrace. I shall be eager to see it.

I have been going through Aldington's letters to Hilda, so as to screen before Harry Moore comes for his biography. I would be murdered by all highest principles of scholarship for I have removed those dealing with Pup's impending birth -- he knows of course but why give him sugar --as well as a number in which R.A. takes the hide off Moore's back. It is a long job and I am far from done, but I keep Hilda's picture before me as a comfort and reminder.

18 August 1966

Dearest Fido,

Like yourself, in your letter of the 15th, I did not write yesterday. I was in the midst of what is known as a challenge, trying to write an encyclopedia article for the Reader's Digest Almanac in 750-1000 words on the historical development of the American novel. I have just finished it, typed it up, and will post it with this letter on my way out. Why did I do it? Because the Editor of the Almanac is a former student of mine who remembered my undergraduate lectures of fifteen years ago, and (2) because of cash. I gather it will appear anonymously, as though written by the editors themselves, so I will promise you a peak only on condition you will not squeal on me.

This lunch, after many postponements, I lunched with my son-in-law, and was relieved to find that the only favor he asked of me was to act as an intermediary in terms of the children in the years to come. He fears, naturally enough, the same strains and tensions that arose between both of Susan's girls and both of their parents. He was sensible enough, and quiet enough, with no recriminations or asking one to take sides or offer consolation. Actually both Susans are so anxious to avoid, as much as possible, any repetitions of history that they will make every effort not to arouse antagonisms. Perhaps I was able to console him a little. I was much relieved that nothing more was at stake, and gobbled a little tranquilizer as aperitiv before I went out.

There will be much to talk over about Swiss affairs when you come. I gather that investment counsellors all over are taking a new look at holdings. I have just had a letter from the New York investment man who handles my bantam nest egg here. They want to shift a few holdings and chip away at what is probably an overinvestment in one particular stock which I inherited from my mother. Alas, at one time it was worth three times what it is now listed for, but that was before she gave it to me.

Silvia D obson's manuscript has arrived, but I dare not open it until I get a few more things written. I wish mine were likely to have the colours of your Colors of the Wall but the best I can do is to be stony.

As to Maine I still think we should dart up if for no other reason than to sacrifice your geographical virginity. But whether there or here or in New York do not come prepared for winter. It just possibly might be nippy at the end of the month, but we always have a sweater, the car can always have the windows closed, and you know already how warm American houses can be. I should say not the sheerest of wear but certainly no woolies. Otherwise you will roast. Let the roasting be put aside to serve.

Yes, the anthology can be bought in paperback individually. Certain volumes seem far to outsell the others. How it all came back when I read Aldington's comment that the Auden & Pearson had flopped. So I suppose it did, though I am glad to say it still sells and is still referred to as the best of the long ones.

Make time fly!

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

19 August 1966

Dearest Fido,

Sad in one sense that I shall soon be writing the last letter
that can reach you before you leave. Splendid, on the other hand that we
will so soon be able to talk.

This has in one sense not been a very profitable day so far as
getting any writing done. Instead I thought it better to finish reading
Aldington's letters to Hilda, and those from her to him which Catha sent.
They are now screened and ready for the Moore. Neither Hilda nor R.A. cared
for him--she didn't know him of course--and it offend Aldington to think that
Kershaw and Catha had made him the official biographer, except of course that
it would have pleased him to be biographed. But to deny the material to Moore
would have upset Catha because it would have spoiled Kershaw's so-called collabora-
tion (and I'm sure he does need whatever money is to be gotten) and seemed an
offense to her father at a time when she is so obviously unsure of herself.
Reading the letters gives more of a portrait of Kershaw than I had had. He
obviously adored R.A. (not sexually but as a hero), and R.A. liked his devotion
and the chance to refer to his "secretary." And Kershaw really slaved for the
master, did his business correspondence, listened to his stories, got him
money from his rich Australian friends, and put all of his several wives and
offspring very much in the second fiddle section. Aldington was his surrogate,
and I suspect that he has now transferred this to Catha, while she in her
turn makes him into the father-lover. I found her letter very troubling,
indeed. The sooner she gets into analysis the better. It's a pity that Arasin
isn't younger; I feel he could work beautifully for her advantage.

Have made a few more trips to the Library, transporting certain of
the completed correspondences from your file over to a locked case there. At
last one can begin to breathe in the cases here, and I am following your splendid
suggestion and will eventually have two drawers with current recipients in, so
that the current filing can be more expeditious. One was always plowing one's
way through a forest to find a particular tree.

A letter came from Helen about the London publishing. She was of
course troubled and disappointed but certainly not angry. We can discuss when
you are here.

I have, by the way, the article on psychoanalysis and history you
wanted. Indeed there is a mass of miscellaneous reading for you to do.

Patrick has sent a notebook kept by Hilda, which by some curious
mischance was among the Dorothy Richardson papers but not returned by them when
I brought the other papers back last spring. What a mess they put them all in.
The Library groans and wonders if they can ever put the right sheets of a letter
together again. I can't imagine how he could have used them after such disarray,
or indeed how he could have gotten them so suffled. Also in today's mail was a
book from Patrick kindly sent from London. *Lucifer Falling* by a Terence de Vere
White. Did you ever hear of it or him?

Pup also wrote, not knowing whether you were here yet, a very nice
letter indeed. And there was a bill from Horace's nurse, in which she said they
were now practising his using steps in the hospital physio-therapy room. So he
continues to gain. I imagine he will still be in the hospital when we visit him,
but he is likely to go home in another month or so. It will have been a long pull
but a miraculous success.

Then also a note from Hodgson's nephew saying he had heard a letter
from the States had been forwarded him and he wondered if it was from me and had

20 August 1966

Dearest Fido,

I write this just before lunch, so as to get (hopefully) an earlier post and thereby the better chance of this reaching you before you set out for Zurich. Your kennel is in order: straw freshly put on the floor, a nice bowl of water for you to lap, and we trust a bone or two for you to gnaw on. That is, there are a few books for you to read, several packages of miscellaneous matter for you to nibble at with your eyes, typewriter and paper and typing stand to hold them. We do our best.

I spent the first part of the morning in going to the hardware store to buy a new spring for the screen to your door, and then to the Automobile Association to get road maps and hotel lists for Maine, then to the Co-op for two more new guides, then from my office to the Library with bundles of folders for the filing cabinet there, to make room in the ones here. I have transferred early Herring, Plank, Doris, Sylvia Beach and Adrienne, and the Bear. These fill two entire drawers so you can see what a difference the situation has been given. One need now go only to two drawers here for filing new letters, rather than the pawing of before. And even now I see a further improvement by which if we put current folders in the top drawers of two adjacent filing cabinets I can have both open at once and file in a jiffy.

The rest of the morning I have been answering letters by notes, thanking for a few things that have been sent, and getting ready this afternoon to begin the Encyclopedia Americana article.

No letter from you in today's mail, for which no wonder. You will have been too busy to write, or should not have. I will not try after this one, Monday being too late to risk. But I did not mention yours of the 16th which also came yesterday. The Pepys doesn't matter. We will manage to get it in somehow. Glad you did not destroy the record of the squabble with Chemical. I must say, in the end, that I find them a little tricky. I remember their deals with the Bryher Foundation.

As to Cooper, one can only read him with disbelief suspended, except for his superb descriptions of the forests (the matiere d'Amerique) and his creation of Leatherstocking, and the whoop and whir of his action. His ladies have always been a joke, but perhaps one needed jokes in the American jungles. Between his proud beauties and his feeble-minded maidens I should have much preferred the latter. Anyhow they got on better with the Indians.

Greetings to Elsie and outstretched arms to yourself.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

10 September 1966

Dearest Fido,

I hope Elsie's birthday went swimmingly, without the expense of rain to paddle in. I lunched with the old historian, Wallace Notestein today, who said his wife had been in Montreux for three weeks with friends, and that it had mostly rained and been cold. London, I gather, was not much better. But somehow one expects it of England.

Chiefly I have been finishing the cleanup of the Hawthorne letters, and written numerous odd notes of one sort or another.

A yellowback and yours of the 8th came this afternoon. The former was mostly filled with my letters to you. I really shudder when I think of the agony I must be cause you. I should not be such a spendthrift of words. You are unbelievably tolerant never to whimper in public.

I was most sorry about your interview with Egli. I was right in thinking that this might be a crise with Jacques; but I still think I was right in saying that it would be a much worse crise if for various reasons you became his at once and then turned away. You were, naturally, Beney's chief interest as well as an important accpunt. Indeed he loved not only the chance to practise his true flair for investment, but also his avuncular relationships with those you take care of so generously. I swing a little more towards Jean C's suggestion, for I fear that Montreux may really relax into being a branch bank.

You did not enclose Catha's letters, but I hope she is doing all right. Harry Moore is to stop in later this month to look at what I will show him of the Aldington material. I shall probably gather something from him. I shall fish discreetly.

I really fear a little for both Islay and Kenneth. Mamas are all right, and the gesture of having her there is splendid. But it does dampen and tie down the spirit. It isn't that they wish for a constant gay romp, but even a prince of the church wishes for a quiet moment or two with the confessional (himself as his own confessor, as I am sure princes of the church must be) or a choir boy to sing an *Erfgo* to him. I did like Islay's picture of Kenneth as a churchman, but hope the description remains figurative.

14 September 1966

Dearest Fido,

Oh my, am I tired at the end of a day! An endless procession of new graduate students whose schedules and lives must be arranged. A German with a just acquired PhD finds the rooms assigned him are undignified for a man of his stature. A Japanese visiting fellow, here with his wife, is heartbroken because their apartment has only a shower and no tub in which they can jointly take hot baths. (He said, "You see, in Japan we are spoiled." "No," I answered, "you are boiled.") Two instructors who must share an office have only one desk and one chair for both of them, and were told none were to be had. (I called the Business Manager of Yale. There will be two desks, two chairs for them, and two for students who come for conferences.) The language examinations for graduate students in French and German with texts I had bought in Zurich or been sent by former students.) So the day has gone, and so I go. How glad I am we had out week in Maine. Without it I should have been a shambles.

Many thanks for your two letters. I need not say how much it has meant to have you here. We do have things to talk about, almost too many ever to get them finished.

I tried to get you a copy of the magazine with the celebration of Azimov. You will have to put Valentine on the trail for you, since I could not find it at any of several news stands.

I always mean to suggest that if you have an idle hour in New York you go to look at the current exhibitions of the Pierpont Morgan Library, on the corner of Madison. They are usually beautiful and your cup of tea. Often medieval tea.

Letters today from Aurelia, whimpering pleasantly that I had not been out. And from Mildred G. Brown and "Cindy" (her address "Black Acres, Friendship, Maine 04547) thanking for the visit, inviting Susan and me up to see the races, and enclosing a newspaper account of more about the sloops.

And then a phone call from Horace, explaining they had cut down to a four-hour-a-day girl helper (his request was if they or rather she could send me her bills) plus a boy to put him to bed at night. A local minister seems to have stepped in to help them. He seemed in good spirits and said that Patrick had so much enjoyed his visit with you. Of that I am sure.

Tomorrow should clear up another large batch of students and new visiting fellows. At least I hope so.

But at least I can whisper

15 September 1966

Dearest Fido,

I shall in fact be speaking to you tomorrow morning, sadly to bid you farewell. And I am writing this too late in the week to have it waiting for you on your return to Kenwin, as I thought it would do were you to wait until Sunday to go back. But you are certainly right not to stay over while Pup and John took the boys to Choate. And they could hardly do otherwise than deposit their pair on the school doorstep.

Fewer students came in today for appointments, but there were as many problems as ever. The Radcliffe girl who turned out to be a Negro turned out also to be frightened as though she had put up a cushion between herself and the world. One will have to watch her. Then there is Dr Haeberle the German exchanger student who proudly won his PhD four months ago. The dormitory room was unsuitable. So were all the rooms and flats he looked at today when I persuaded a graduate student to drive him around this afternoon in my car. He must have modern furniture. He must have a private entrance. He must have absolute quiet so he can think and paint; therefore he cannot be on a street where there is likely to be traffic. He, as you will understand, will need maid service. But how are we to do this on his $250.00 a month, without a car. I think we are in for trouble with him.

Still, why complain. One can only keep one's eye fixed on next July 1st, and think how short a time there will be until then if one takes enough tranquilizers, and remembers what Miss Chudleigh said about each month's motto.

And especially why complain after the fun of your being here.

All love as always,

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

17 September 1966

Dearest Fido,

This has been such a hell of a week that I could not even
write you a note yesterday. Or at least I might perhaps have done so
had not the German problem child returned at 4:30 to use the phone to
call up still other flats that might meet his specifications (after
weeping for an hour on my shoulder earlier, saying that he had lived
on poor rations in the night club area of Heidelberg for ten years he
could not under any circumstances be without quiet and modernity and
elegance. He had more or less signed up for a flat whose rental took
$180 out of his $250 a month living allowance for food room books enter-
tainment etc. If only one could deliver a swift kick. But that is not
polite to a guest.

John called by phone in mid-afternoon to know if they could
call on us this morning. But Susan is away all day for a flower show she
is judging, so I asked them to join us for dinner half-way between Branford
and Wallingford, at the Lawn Club. My chief reason for going home was to
catch Susan before she started our dinner. The evening was pleasant; they
brought Valentine, who has certainly matured, and were I think glad to have
a way to spend the evening. Perdita spoke several times of the jewelry, and
was excited and pleased to have the pieces. Otherwise their news had, I am
sure, all been told to you.

I ought to have spent the day working on my almost overdue
review of the Stevens' letters, but the condition of my desk was such that
my nerves could stand up only when it was cleared of the worst of the papers.
So I have filed and sent notes, and paid bills, and otherwise improved the
external appearance considerably. I shudder to think of how your Kenwin desk
must look.

To check over: two copies of the new printing of Roman Wall in
hard cover arrived, but since no number of printings is included on the reverse
of the title page, I presume there is no point in sending you one. The new
copy of *British Agent* has come from Guldens, so that is in order.

Your letters have been most welcome. (Oh yes, I wrote Mike
Williams to say that the xeroxes of the mss had arrived safely.) I was much
impressed that you were ahead of me on the new stamp celebrating the Federation
of Women's Clubs. I must say it is silly looking. And I thank you for the
return of the check, although a better way would be to say I accept defeat
and will void it. I shall be most eager to see the Wace when it arrives. You
deserve a medal for first class sleuthing. Poor Elsie and Tigerli. I am glad
you will be there for a while to hold her (Elsie's) paw when her beloved strays.
Much interested in Helen's reply vis-a-vis your letter about the British edition.
I had sent aneopy of the letter you got to Helen's office to be held for her.
Had not realizes that the Brigadier had really been sick, altho I think you did
speak of it to me.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

I was, I am afraid, bewildered by the opened letter you sent, to
Liberty Medical Supply Co., with a check to them for 17.80 by a Marjorie
Frank in payment of the enclosed bill. What did you want me to do with
it? I fear I must hold until I get instructions. The name rings no bells.

It was odd that you should enclose as from Romaine, for in the same
mail were carbons of letters to Ambassador Bruce from the publisher rejecting
the book, and one from Bruce to Natalie Barney (why should Romaine refer
so vaguely to her as #a friend of mine''? Of course, I know, but it is odd all
the same, when writing to you rather than to me) saying he was afraid nothing
could be done. I will send you xeroxes, but I really cannot think of anything
but private printing now, and since in her case it would have to be nicely
done, I don't feel quite up to it at the moment, and don't think you ought
to take it on. But how disappointed she will be! I will wait until things
quiet down before writing her.

Now I must pick up and go to a reception for the graduate students.
Why do they rob us of our Saturday aftrenoons, even from the office?

Greetings to Elsie and Tigerli, and all love to yourself.

Norman

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

19 September 1966

Dearest Fido,

I have come rather belatedly into the office this Sunday afternoon to see if I can make some headway with the review of Stevens's letters which is due on Wednesday. The worst of it is I still have some 400 letters to read, but in a few minutes I shall start trying to write the review anyhow. I can add a tidbit if it appears tonight at the shore. I do read faithfully whenever God spares me a moment. But the difficulty is to read more than 20 letters at a time without thinking one's self an army censor. One even gets tired of a daily mail, and at least such letters come from several sources. But, and nevertheless, Stevens does write interesting letters, or speak interesting letters since most were dictated. One can see him thinking his way towards poems, talking really mostly to himself in letters that took the place both of journals and friends in Hartford.

I had a brief time-consumer this morning when the newsboy forgot the Times and I went to buy another and some corn for tonight. (Of course he made a second later trip, scowling, with the papers he had forgotten.) Then after lunch I went with Susan to the big house to load in to the station wagon some largish wooden chests which will be useful at Goodrich Street. We discovered that she had forgotten rolls to go with the steak we are cooking out tonight to help Susan and her two children and five guests. So I made a trip into East Haven and luckily found some which I took back to the shore before coming here.

Much as I expected Susan's husband came to her to say because of his lower salary as a half-time job he would have to cut her income by $20.00 more a week. She says he has made even his own friends indignant by being unwilling to take work for the other half time, on the basis that he can't get a good enough job (that is, as a designer.) Really he is the limit, for of course he can't pay what he doesn't have; and one can't go to court because of the children to force him to work. But she must tell this to her lawyer, and when the divorce or rather hearing comes up in December the judge must know the full story, I think.

This morning's paper contained the enclosed account of Needham's trip (don't return, I bought the copy for you, I have one), but I think there must be some others coming. For it is odd not to mention his meeting with the Dalai Lama. I can only think Needham must be saving it up for another article, perhaps by himself. This was in the Society section and is a little stuffy. I think. Perhaps Miss Gesler is new to the reporting game, even though she seems to have done her homework. The account at the end of how he became Tibetan conscious is interesting.

The other clipping is pure Coral Island, and one wishes one knew more about their fire and their food, and what must have been a superb tanned nakedness. Perhaps the British papers will carry "more", or Hilda's New Zealand friend will know.

Now to Stevens!

19 September 1966

Dearest Fido,

No time of course for my first letter from Kenwin to arrive.
But I did have your Friday farewell. Some of it I had heard over the
phone with you; other details had come from our dinner with Pup and John
and Valentine. I suppose they are all now settled, each in his own corner.
I was sorry I did not learn about the robbery on Creekmore's apartment, since
the family things his mother and siblings wanted went. But of course
any apartment which has been closed for some time reads like an invita-
tion. I had imagine it had been cleared and sublet long since.

I am glad to have been warned against the Loos book, which
I might have gotten you on a hunch. The Constance Wright ones seem a
better cup of tea.

Mostly I have continued slogging away at the Stevens letters
and will almost certainly come back from the shore tonight to go on with
composing at least something. I daresay I take it all too seriously, but
I should like the review to be at least readable, for Holly Stvens's sake
if for no one else's.

My German beast was in again this morning and once more after
lunch. He still finds nothing suitable to the dignity of a man who earned
his PHD four long months ago, so he is hiring a $130.00 a month studio in
the chic apartment house, which he can furnish out of the $280 a month he
receives for food, books, entertainment and the like. He managed during
the day to antagonize the nice townslady who spent two hours driving him
around in his search, as well as the head of the Bureau for Foreign Nationals,
who did give him the verbal kick he no doubt needs.

I rather worry that he really needs p.a.

All love

20 September 1966

Dearest Fido,

Great joy today to have your first letter from Kenwin. And
that of the 18th also. I am glad you did decide to take the taxi out.
Bundles and tips make up for the pence. And there is also an advantage
in not arriving at Swissair en masse. You should have tried to ask from
your Jewish companion what she feared in her Israeli daughter-in-law.
I think it may have been wondering if the son would return to the Holy
Land with her. Jewish ladies have sixth sense; and a touch may have
been enough to assure her. Glad the presents were received respectfully.
Elsie has her own secret language, and I am sure she was completely
delighted. But with jackets as with baths: one saves them up. In one
of the letters you sent me from New York Ethel remarked that the Brigadier
was feeling better, but we hadn't read that he was feeling ill. I am
glad he recovers.

We have cold and colds, at least Susan has one caught from
her sister. But yesterday she had her last day at the big house, and
from now on only the auctioneer goes there to cart away his goodies. I
wonder if the girls actually will realize anything from the sale. They
have to raise enough from it, or chip in enough, to pay two more equal
shares in cash equivalent of what they took. Yesterday morning Susan
was wretched. By night she was better, and was to judge a flower show
today at the 'Veterans' Hospital.

I spent today again on Stevens's letters, but finished the
review--I finished the book at the office last night--, had Mrs Sherman
type it, and put it in the mail with a special delivery stamp since it
is due tomorrow. I hope the Times finds it agreeable. I will send you
a copy when the book is published, about October 28th. Now I have to
buckle down to two volumes of James Fenimore Cooper's journals and letters.
The deadline for that long overdue book is the 25th I believe. May
again for me.

Tomorrow I shall have to catch up with my mail and office
work. I have had a letter from the new nurse for Horace. She works
four hours a day, but alas is an alien (I suspect without a working permit)
so one cannot get medical insurance returns from her. But she seems
pleasant, is Australian I believe, and Horace enjoys talking with her.
That certainly is worth something.

I go home to a cold house at the shore, I am certain. We will
have to light a fire. And I shall read away at Cooper if I don't fall
asleep.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

21 September 1966

Dearest Fido,

This should have been a day of accomplishment. Almost no appointments scheduled, and a chance to get at my desk as well as start to read the Cooper letters. The reality? A steady stream of people and questions both before and after lunch. And to boot: for some reason I felt strangely dizzy in the first half of the afternoon, and wondered whether or not I had the flu or a forthcoming stroke or was anticipating the end of the world. Probably it was nothing more than sheer discouragement in the face of cold and very wet rain. We had woodfires burning last night at the shore, and re-lit the fireplace to make the room habitable for breakfast. You would have shivered more than at Kenwin. Though we would have permitted you the furaace had there been one. The cleaners will be finished in town tomorrow. We will presumably move in on Saturday, going back on Sunday for the day to pick up more chattels to bring back to Goodrich Street for the winter.

I enclose a letter in today's mail from Islay. I peeked as permitted and send without envelope to save on the weight. I am glad they think of putting the mamma into storage for the winter.

I had forgotten to tell you that on Monday, the Oldsmobile have stalled so frequently over the weekend, I took the car to the garage and had them spend a day on the broken lights, the tuning of the engine, and the changing of the oil filter. Now it frisks like a kitten, and I only wish I had had the wit to have it overhauled before our trip. But it is good news to know that all it needed was a Prutting. I really think I can manage nicely for another year with it, and anyhow need not fear before next Fall or Winter.

Yours of the 19th was in the morning's mail, with its account of the Escale and your plum tart. Next year you may not even get that if the crops were as poor as reported. Knowing how I love to eavesdrop you will know how I envy you elbowing the vicar. But really you must put all this into a novel some day.

I shall want to see Sachie's book on gold snuff boxes. I remember how once when I came back to the States during the war, my mission from the head of OSS in London (the present ambassador there) was to carry some gold snuff boxes back to his wife for her collection. They were divorced after the war; perhaps the boxes were only plated, which would not do for a Mellon.

I am glad you did not have to rush in Coigny before his holiday. Much better to give him the sense of absolutely getting things straight. I dropped him a note, saying I left all in your hands and judgment. As indeed I do.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

22 September 1966

Dearest Fido,

I woke this morning with a subnormal temperature and have remained rather subnormal all day. I have an appointment with my physician tomorrow for the first of my flu shots and phoned him to know if he wished to postpone them because of my high reading last night and low today. He tells me I am only one among many, which satisfies me that I am not threatened by a stroke simply because I feel dizzy. He recommended taking things easy today, and so I have. That is, I have not accomplished much. But staying at the office was preferable to being at the unheated shore, Susan and Heidi being busy cleaning the house in town. After the cleaners leave they have to be cleaned after. I am like you with your own house in Burier. But cheer up, the 1st of October will soon be here and then the Tiger's tiger will turn the switch and thou shall have heat.

No letter from you day, and indeed a rather dreary mail altogether. Suitable to the weather outside for it has continued to rain and be chill. Yesterday 2.14 inches of rain fell in New Haven, but in New York over 5 inches came down. Gallup was in town and said he was soaked to his skin three times. Even trains were late because of washouts.

I enclose a Maine racoon.

Also a xerox of Pat's letter about Hilda's poems. I am too busy to think about it now. And isn't it odd how tastes vary. His father liked Winter Love and wanted it in with Helen. Sagesse is what Pound thought so good. Vale, Ave is the choice of the Duncans. And surely no repetition of an excerpt from Good Frend, which is in Selected, as is Ancient Wisdom (I think) I cannot be sure of this. And surely too the trilogy should be together not divided as tho three separate poems. I was a little surprised too to have Pat plump for the earlier forms. For you yes. But I see why his choices of poets for Knopf are pretty traditional. Rather like his mother's verse. Do not return his letter. I have the original.

A yellowback did come yesterday, and I read at the shore last night. Needham's letter to you was much better than his to me, perhaps because he knew he would be seeing me. Mollie Dobson's was rather fun; she should have a good trip. Sylva's letter I was glad to read, though we had talked about it. She seems in command of herself. But the most interesting was that from Carrie Jenkins, your Scilly cum Avalon dame. No wonder there should be visas.

Then I re-read the Lullings one pamphlet which I must say has some of the best conjectural drawings I can imagine. It must be fun to visit the ruins, but I can take up residence in the conjectures.

Today's office drama was with the second of the two Japanese girls who are working for the PhD's in American Studies. I may have told you that the other, young and pretty and from a wealthy old-line Japanese family who were most kind to us in Japan because I had been kind to the girl, had by our return from Tokyo married secretly a Jewish radical from New York, being with child by him. The parents would not speak to her for over a year but have now relented enough so that the couple is going back to live in Japan. But, of course.....!

28 September 1966

Dearest Fido,

Things become more hectic, and my desk more dishevelled, but fortunately Susan feels much better and has learned to balance herself with the heavy cast, and this morning even climbed the pulldown stairs into the attic while she picked out dresses for me to carry down. I had a quick visit to the doctor at 8:30 and came back to the house for the dresses and to do the orchids. But even the latter she is beginning to be able to handle with a small waterer. She goes by taxi today to the doctor's for a checkup. Her ankle now seems quite recovered. The steps from the back hallway into the garage are really so dangerous that I am going to lock the door after the horse was stolen, and have asked the carpenter to come on Friday to see if new and broader steps cannot be put in. Even I at times skid on the ones we have.

I never quite get caught up with past letters, but let me start this time by saying that the professor Finkelstein, to whom I showed the Syro-Hittite figures you gave me, came in to say he had shown them to another man on the faculty and they both find them of very real interest. Still a third man is likely to work on them, and since the national meeting of Middle Eastern archaeologists is to be held at Yale next spring, they want to show some or all of them in the special exhibition. The conference will bring at least two of the chief world experts on the field, and the descriptions should be made as well as scholarship can do them. So I think you made a real find and a contribution. It was a real mark of respect of Spinks to call them to your attention, and wonderful generosity on your part to hand them over to me. Who knows? We may, the two of us, be off on another jaunty small collection! I am really quite excited by their excitement.

Have just agreed this morning to give another lecture on Greenland and the Vikings, in early December. How interestingly you have changed my life. Our student aid is now engaged in putting the Dusty Diamonds into proper alphabetical order, so the office is busy with your shadows.

Sorry you won't be able to catch another glimpse of Helen before she comes back to the States. That will be too late, I think, for the Goethe House meeting. I had a phone call this morning from Stadelmeyer arranging for me to come to them for a light supper before the talk next week. Unfortunately Susan won't be able to go, so I shall take a late train back in order to be here to tie her shoes the next morning. It is just as well; otherwise a half day would be lost. I go, as I think I told you, to New York tomorrow morning to sign the papers for Coigny, trying to take the noon train back.

I have been slow, and so not sure whether I reported the arrival of your letters of the 24th and 25th. Nothing in this morning's mail, but there may be something later in the day. I am glad Elsie's fine eye caught the death of Ninon Hesse. Otherwise one might have sent Christmas cards (you might) or a note as you occasionally did.

So glad you like The House of the Seven Gables. We will look out the simple dwellings in which Hawthorne lived, and then you can compare them to

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

Pingree House we visited, or the seven-gabled mansion, and see how much the poor relation of the mansions must have felt them as decaying status symbols. The land grants in Maine are a thing you can now also appreciate, for if you recall my article on the Manning family (his mother's) you can see what the myth of wealth from landholdings meant to him. But note the very ending of the novel, and how Hawthorne slyly hints that even a Maule turns towards the big new house and the poor man takes on the symbols he has despised once he can afford them.

Sachie's book on gold snuff boxes sounds like true elegance. At Oxford we used to take snuff for fun, and I sometimes still do. A splendid thing for clearing the nose. An English judge once told me he depended on snuff to keep awake during the dreary presentation of cases he must decide on. Here, workers in factories use snuff, mostly to chew, since they are not allowed to smoke or chew tobacco because of the cud and spitting. This is the market for Pearson's Red Mill Shuff.

Poor Kenneth and Islay! We both knew the risks in taking Islay's mama, but as you say--Kenneth works off his sense of guilt, at least up to a point.

The Needham article was dull beyond words. But he is so serious and always talking primers, and the reporter was a dull student.

Not a peep out of our German. I suppose he must have found some place to stay in, but he has not told us where to find him. I suspect he finds us too kleinburgerlich to bother with, at least while he regains his confidence. I spoke last night with the kind lady who took him unsuccessfully around. She said she was used to Germans who clicked their heels and kissed the hand. But this one, she remarked, only clicked his heels.

All love,

28 September 1966

Dearest Fido,

I write a second, end-of-the-day letter since I may not have time
to get one in after I return from New York. I must see the Swiss Consulate
General, then buy a pair of shoes to replace one five years old and re-soled
so often it won't go again, and then if I can -- see the lawyer to get him
started on the Gregory bills. If only I hadn't been so stupid I could have
phoned today and made an appointment in advance. Now I shall have to trust
to luck and the telephone after I arrive.

Your letter of the 26th came at noon. Happy the raccoon brought
back memories. You too had your blueberry pie. I now seem well over the
grippe, and ready for my second common cold shot on Friday. I much hope I
can have the first flu shot also. I have not seen so much of Weaver this Fall.
I believe he is actually down to writing. I rather scolded him last Spring
and reminded that the British would expect ms on his return. We went through the
Dora Marsden matter once before, apropos of a biography, but there was nothing
here. Weaver spreads himself a little, full of eager curiosity about everything.
Pup's letter was a pleasant one, I thought, and very appreciative. Life must be
somewhat easier now. Or so one hopes for her sake.

I enclose copy of a letter from David Bruce, further about Romaine's
manuscript. I thought I would discuss private publishers with Helen on her
return. She will be rushed but helpful. Otherwise I can hardly know where to
turn for a presentable printer -- obviously if the book isn't to be commercial
it ought to be attractive -- for an estimate. And without an estimate I have
nothing for Bruce to discuss with his cousin either on the basis of her paying
for it entirely or sharing the cost with me or with us.

I'm not sure the actual situation will be much changed by having
Romaine's pictures on show at the Smithsonian -- tho it certainly won't hurt.
What will be changed is the degree of Romaine's happiness and sense of success
in the things that count most to her. And this can't help but please us too.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

29 September 1966

Dearest Fido,

This is a six o'clock synopsis--nothing more. Just to report that I got safely back from New York after getting the papers affidavited at the Swiss Consulate -- rather more complicated and expensive a task than I had thought. And after having a quick chat with the lawyers and leaving with them the papers connected with Horace's expenses. Cane, the lawyer-poet, seemed quite shocked that neither the parents nor Patrick could keep order, but more of that tomorrow when I can write properly. I also managed to buy a pair of shoes to replace a much-resoled pair that I dare not present the cobbler with even as a challenge. Caught the one o'clock train back, and ate a bowl of fish chowder in tribute to you. Went to the house from the station to take Susan to the Surgical Supply Company for a cradle sling for her heavy cast (recommended yesterday by the doctor), and then back to the office in time to hurry across campus to a faculty meeting of Yale College, and from there back here. I must say I am little exhausted.

Your letter of the 27th came in the late afternoon mail, but its questions can wait until tomorrow.

I did forget that the first thing I did in New York was to call Harcourt and ask for a photocopy of the Post interview to be sent you airmail, and one to me by surface. I hadn't realised that Helen was back. She returned yesterday, she said in calling me this afternoon after I had reached the office. Her call was to ask about Susan, of whose broken wrist she had heard from the Stadelmeyers. She seemed well, though aghast at accumulated work to be done.

This is really only a token as a letter, but the love it brings you is real.

31 December 1966

Dearest Fido,

A lucky last day of the old year, for it brought your letter of the 28th in the Saturday mail when I normally have nothing from you. I am of course indebted to the ill-framed knight for being my ambassador. I sent it only in desparate hope that it might arrive sometime around Christmas to prove that you and I did not depend on that day alone. I really don't know much about Matthews, but imagine (if he is human) that he would be happy to receive a letter from someone who enjoyed his book. By the way, Miss Borroff's translation of Gawain will be out this spring and I shall get it quickly to you. I simply do not pretend any longer to know what you have or haven't; I just send, so that you can quietly tear into shreds what does not interest you, and toss to the winds off the mountains. John Schaffner also sent me the Dante translation, a kind gesture but one I am not likely to read -- at least not repeatedly. His second gift was a collection of Haitian stories by Barbara Howes, one of his clients, but she had sent me a copy two to make two.

By the way I noticed in the Co-op, by J.A.Burrow, A READING OF SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT. I will send it to you for Valentine's Day if I have not already sent it to you. Have I?

The Blake clippings were most interesting, both about the Eire passports and the fuller account of the escape in Mountbatten's report. I still find myself shocked by the escape, but presumably this is not an "in" attitude. I am a little surprised also that Blake was not among those sending Christmas greetings to his friends in the The Times column. Viz:

Mr. GEORGE BLAKE regrets not sending cards this year as he is still busy moving house, but wishes his many friends at Wormswood Shrubs a Happy New Year filled with the joy of escapism.

What a wonderful custom such greetings are. It is hard however really to believe that a Joan Evans or a Noel Coward do it. I envy them.

The high spirits of Kenneth's letter really rejoiced one. He is obviously glad to be away now that he is away, and the two should have a spectacular gambol together. Certainly it is called on for you and Elsie to run down in April to hear their account and see Islay's photographs.

I wonder if they will be in New York when they are showing *Borderline* at the Museum of Modern Art. I have just had a letter from their Curator of Films asking permission to show it as a feature for a day or two in March or April. "We are doing a big loan show from the George Eastman House in Rochester, to call attention to the great work James Card is doing there to preserve our film treasures. He tells me that you should be asked about our including BORDERLINE." I said yes. No chance to defer to Kenneth because of his trip, and he seems indifferent anyhow.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

Have been sending out permissions to use several of Hilda's poems in
various books, and while at the MLA meeting more or less concluded arrange-
ments for the republication of *Palimpsest* by the University of Southern
Illinois Press. They will pay royalties, to go into the H.D. savings account,
and it seems like a good move to make the book really available at last. They
may be interested later in doing one or two of her novels that are still
unpublished. I lunched with Harry Moore who is still busy on the Aldington
biography. I think I have managed to keep him in hand about Pup, and he
agrees that it must be skirted. But he worries lest some of the strictures
on the Kennedy assassination story might affect him in terms of what R.A.'s
family has told him. I must say this whole affair is incredibly involved,
partly because of an unclear contract, the implied restrictions, and constant
misunderstandings as to what was agreed on. Apparently the interview Mrs K
gave him was not just for his book but for an Oral History project in which
first-hand accounts are recorded for posterity. This being so, the author
really had less freedom than had the material been given just for him. He
was out to write a sensation, and I guess has it. But Mrs K always behaves
like a dowager queen, is totally imperious in everything. Still, I would
sympathize with her a little more had she not had the idea of making an
authorized account the official one and definitive one. This is almost a
contradiction in terms. The account in *Time* handled the problem well.

I had a pleasant letter from Sylvia Townsend Warner in which she
politely refused to do an account of George Plank for the Library Gazette.
I had offered to pay her. She said, quite understandably, that she had
only met him two or three times, despite their flood of letters, and that
she knew too little about his past. I wanted it for the Gazette in order
to call attention to his papers and to attract their use. I shall probably
have to do it eventually myself, worse luck.

Now I must get back to my desk, and answering letters. I shall be
toasting you at midnight. We have a couple in for supper and to play cards.
Otherwise we do not celebrate.

All love for the New Year,

Norman

3

Much disappointed to lose out on a nice sentimental addition to the autograph
collection connected with the North. Goodspeed's adevtised a folio page in
which Columbus's Isabella wrote: "I command that from the horn of the unicorn
which Sancho de Paredes, my chamberlain, has in charge and which was discovered'
in the city of Madrid, he give you a piece that he ordered cut from it by my
command, etc." I phone but it had been sold. They should have noticed and
charged more because of the amusing circumstance that unicorns' horns were
really narwhal and from Greenland trade, so that even if unknown there was a
connection between Greenland and Spain in Columbus's own time, The date of
the document is actually 1503. Too bad I didn't see the catalogue earlier,
especially because one had come first class to Gallup ten days before, he
phoned me because of a fine Hawthorne letter offered; I called then and got it.
"I never thought of you in connection with Isabella" Gallup said yesterday when
I whined.

Now I must close and post on the way to lunch.

Dearest Fido:

4 October 1966

I did not get a chance to write yesterday, and so do not dare risk sending this to Kenwin, now that Coigny no longer can forward the post. Yours of the 1st has just arrived in the noon mail, and that took all week to reach you. The mornings get eaten into by my household duties, and the days become chaotic as a result. I still haven't been able to begin on my talk at the Goethe House Thursday night, and will need the strength of the Lord to get me through. Yesterday's early examples were doing dishes, then welcoming the doctor to give Susan her cold and flu shots, then welcoming a man to frame some pictures. I wanted him to see where they are to hang. One is a Japanese print for the newly refurbished bathroom on the ground floor. The other is an ink and wash drawing by a collateral ancestor of Susan, John Trumbull the well-known painter (in America) of Revolutionary scenes. This is the final sketch for his most famous picture, the death of General Warren at Bunker's Hill. When Susan's aunt died from cancer, the aunts books etc were left to her niece. I told the niece that if anything in the way of papers etc were found on Susan's side of the family rather than hers, we would like to have them. So a common manila envelope came through the mail to Susan, with four useless family photographs, and a pamphlet about the painter. It was lying on the couch at the shore, and Susan said "there's some stuff inside." She hadn't bothered to look, at least yet. So from what was inside I pulled out first a document by Benjamin Franklin and then the drawing. I should imagine it was quite valuable. #This mission being performed I had to wait for the tow-truck to come for the Oldsmobile, push the car out of the garage with the help of the driver (or rather vice versa, I helped him), and then to the office for appointments at 10.

Lunch was with Eric White, here for three days with the Osbornes (we met them on the sidewalk in London), while Susan ate with his wife at the Osbornes' home. He seemed in fine fettle, had been with his brother for three weeks in Canada, came to Yale for a lecture yesterday afternoon and another (on Stavinsky) this

(back at the office after dinner)

so you can have something)

afternoon but I could not make that. I had not known until I saw the posters that he had his CBE. He spoke well and read well on the subject of "Current Trends in English Poetry," and as the poster announed: "he will illustrate his lecture by reading from unpublished works of contemporary English poets." There was a reasonably good-sized audience of the young, who were nevertheless, I think, a little surprised at his choice of contemporaries. (The unpublished poems--two or three of them in all -- were some he had asked poets to write in his autograph album.) He began by reading some Catholic poems by Siegfried Sassoon which the Council had published for Sassoon's 80th birthday. Then he moved to some by Edmund Blunden which were from the past but made relevant by the fact that Blunden will have his 70th birthday. Then he went on to some one named Ricketts(?) to whom the Council has just voted a £1,000, award for a neglected book published in 1946. A couple of others--Larkin and Gunn and Sylvia Plath did it, with anecdotes about each when they visited him and Dodie "at our little home." There was a small party for him afterwards and we talked much about you, and I gave him an Avalon, writing in it "and a visa for you too." Forgive me. I had to make him an award.

2

Susan continues to improve, although her spirits sometimes get crotchety-- no wonder-- and tonight made a very nice supper which she manipulated one-handed, even to separating the whites from the yolks of two eggs. Quite a feat.

I had meant to mention the sale of the Times to the Thompson group. The Canadians certainly do manage to take control of the British press. It has its consequences I think on politics as well as pp.

I didn't mean that I would hold the money for young Susan but dole it out additionally to what I have been giving her. Having just made out a check, I put in forty extra for what Jim withheld last month and the eighty she should have had for October. This came from what you gave, but I have not told her its source.

The Medical supply envelope was an odd one. The envelope to the company had been slit open, and inside was the bill for drugs and the check from the buyer to pay for it. You sent it along with your English letters for the files. I can only imagine the payer must have been at the Stanhope, or the letter somehow stuck to one I sent you, you opened, saw it was mistake and then sent unwittingly to me. I simply put both envelope and bill, with the check, in a new address and sent without explanation to the address intended.

Your second of the 1st and yours of the 2nd came also today. I am happy that Coigny is so much better, but she will find recuperation tiring I fear. How nice you could meet her brother Pierre and close the circle so to speak. Yverdon sounds fun, though I don't really know where or what it is. But if it proves good for Pup then perhaps I too ought to see it some day. I am a great admirer of the mounting at Avenches.

You will be interested in a preliminary report from the Babylonian Collection at yale to which I loaned the Spinkeries for investigation. The Associate Curator wrote, Professor Hallo, the Curator, and I were most impressed with your group of figurines. Such objects are not too common, and of those in collections many are neither as attractive nor as certainly genuine as yours. Richard Ellis, our archaeologist, has expressed an interest in writing them up, and I hope to be able to participate in this with him." Mr Phippson might be interested in their enthusiasm.

Interesting that you should be picking up Corbière, a really good or at least very interesting writer.

One has to ponder the Romaine question, and this may take time.

I am sure it was much the best thing to let the accounts lie over so far as Coigny is now concerned. That is, until both he and you are back and can have some sustained discussions. This is certainly a good chance to put everything in order, and altho you will certainly want to change things about a bit in the future as the future shapes itself, but one might as well always be prepared for the immediate moment. he will, I know, not want to make it too complicated. Nor will you. Don't worry too particularly about pensioners. As I told you, I will take care of them out of any proportion or out of none. I think I can vibrate to their changing needs, and if I clean up Horace I will be able to cope as is.

I had better close this and pop down to the postoffice so as to be sure you have something waiting for you at the Sesame. I might have risked a letter to Kenwin had I been able to write yesterday. Now I do not really dare.

Include my note in your voice as you sing the old Queenwood song. And best to Elsie, Ethel, etrie, Syvva.

2

NORMAN

HOLMES

PEARSON

231 HGS

YALE UNIVERSITY

NEW HAVEN · CONN

Stadelmeyer's invitation. Actually I had expected to see her there. Perhaps I still shall.

I lunch this noon with a visiting Japanese editor, someone who had much to do with the Japanese playwright the production of whose play I helped with last year. This is the way my time goes. Then in mid-afternoon I take both Susans and the two grandchildren to the dedication of the huge nuclear physics laboratory which is to be named in honor of Mrs Bennett's father. I enclose a clipping from last night's local paper which I thought might interest you. It is rather nice to see him begin to come into his own, having been over shadowed in the minds of his family by the greater reputations of the Trumbulls and Sillimans. That the building is to be named in his honor, however, is a little of an afterthought. The first I heard of it was Saturday afternoon when in cleaning my desk I read the University calendar for this week. The administration had forgotten to ask the granddaughters, or even rof. Wright's own living daughter, who is the last of Susan's aunts. What a pity that Mrs Bennett could not have known this, for from the age of thirteen when her mother died she ran her father's house and mothered his two younger children, He was rather a Gregory-type, I gathered from her, and was so engrossed in his science that he too left unopened bills and was always vague as to whether or not there was money enough in the bank for his young daughter to pay them with.

By the time I have finished this letter, what with the interruptions, it is now eleven-thirty and in ten minutes the Japanese editor will appear. Do you see why I sometimes nibble a tranquillizer?

I do hope the reunion has its motto for the week. Tell Petrie she must make you give the talk on it to the old girls.

All love,

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

5 October 1966

Dearest Fido,

This is really a hasty morning note so that you will at least have had something from today. I have just written Petrie a note which I enclose for you to give her, not knowing her London address. Do give it to her for me, or forward it as indicated.

The dedication went off well yesterday, although it started over an hour late and the wooden chairs were hard for us as well as for the grandchildren. Justus seemed much impressed both by the Emperor and by the talks about it, and applauded wildly to speaches on the advance of nuclear physics, although personally I didn't understand much about what goes on in atom smashing. I gather that an Emperor really tries to reverse the sequence of creation in order to get us or at least an atom back to what matter and force were before they combined or became. But the girls were pleased, as Justus was, at the tributes to the grandfather.

I came back last night to the office to try to begin my talk in New York tonight. I got a little way into it, but must seal myself off now for the rest of the day until I take the train. First however I had to figure out the bill for the nrothern England girl who is nursing Horace. Unfortunately she does not make out a real bill, but roughly indicates the span of service. Having put the original letter from her in the papers that went to the lawyer, I had to recko n the rate from my checkbook entry before sending the check to her. She is a Catriona Hulbert. I wonder if she is any relation of your Miss Hulbert of Queenwood days.

Your letter of the 3rd was in the first post. The bill for drugs had a check in paym nt enclosed with the bill in the envelope that had been opened but never sent. So it was not a bill for you' the only amusement being how it ever got into your hands in the first place. But all is now well.

Glad that enneth's third book is finished. he is really turning them out, and now I only hope that his second will be published somewhere. I am sure it will. Glad too that Melitta seems more cheerful.

The religious ecstasy your Escale petticoated boy wanted may have been the sensation of St Theresa in drag, but it probably links up with the LSD excitement which verges more on pseudo-religious feeling evidenced in the hallucinations than on sex which used to be the substitute for saints. Only I think morning glory seeds would do more for him than analysis.

Curtsey to Queenwood for me.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

7 October 1966

Dearest Fido,

I feel considerably better: the Goethe House talk (which I so much feared) is over; I went to the jeweller this morning and am again wearing my Accutron; I went, after marketing, to the garage by taxi and picked up the Oldsmobile; so I can more nearly be myself. To make it even better Susan decided that she didn't, after all, want to go to the ball tonight, so I don't have to dress myself or her for it. Since I didn't get back from New York until two this morning (the only train after 9:00 is at 11:35 and is a milk train) I'll be glad to get a good morning's sleep. I mean a good night's sleep of course, although the other would be pleasant too. I shall spend tonight reading a dissertation.

Tomorrow is bound to be hectic, altho I shall try to write you properly at the beginning. Alas, I have two interviews with people coming from out of town to inquire about entrance to the graduate school next year. They say it is the only day they can come, but really why should I always have to give up Saturday mornings for such reasons? Then we will try the football game in the afternoon, if the weather is good. Afterwards we go to the Ingholts to supper and to meet Agatha Christie and her archaeologist husband. Sunday morning after end-of-the-week-bed-changing we will have to make another trip to the shore. Then at noon for a reception in honor of the Chogyal and Gyalmo of Sikkim who are unexpectedly to be here. Only 25 in all are invited as guests (including wives) so I feel like a petty Lama at the least. Needham will be there of course. Then in the afternoon I fly to Washington for the Smithsonian Council, coming back Tuesday afternoon hopefully in time to take Susan to a symphony concert she wants to attend. I can't blame; she is shut up most of the time.

Your letter of the 5th came, but I have to hurry out for an
appointment. I took a French lady professor to lunch at the Lawn Club.
"Why," she asked, does everyone end their letters from America to me with
the farewell "in haste." I think I know, but I know it is our pride. How
very important we must be to have so many demands made on us. At least that
is what we like to think about ourselves.

8 October 1966

Dearest Fido,

The last of the two interviews is finished, but they have lasted
since ten o'clock, and I am left with almost no time to work at my desk. I
may have to come down to the office tonight after dinner, a rather crummy way
to spend Saturday night. I found that the Ingholt entertainment was next
Saturday instead of this one.

I rush then a little with this letter to you (written "in haste"
which the French girl would call characteristic. There was nothing in this
morning's mail from you, which means that I shall be without contact until
next Wednesday, and not until then know what difficulties Petrie has gotten
into with the "old girls." But let me go over the last three for what I
may have missed. I really am sorry about Catha and her job. I must suck
the heart out of her. Glad your Yale French Studies is in order. If something
goes wrong with it let me know. As of yours of the 4th: I really think you
must trust yourself to Fides vis-a-vis Pierre Beney. They may say yes, but
I suspect they will find it complicated and insecure for you really and di-
rectly to invest in a Swiss concern. I had not realised he was setting up
his own company, for you had spoken of it as his going into another branch
of Bulova's operation. I should imagine that to do anything meaningful in
the way of a new watch concern one would have to pile really substantial
amounts into it, rather too much for the balance of a portfolio.

All that Coutts need do about Miss Bowra's telly is simply to
transfer their payments to the new concern. I shouldn't think it was necessary
to bother with Miss Collins, but all I am anxious for is to see she continues
to get it. Might it not be better now for me to pay the company directly
from here? This is really something I myself ought to be paying for, especially
now that it is involving a change. I really think it is much better, and I
can direct my local bank to make the necessary regular payments. As they do
for my bill from Authors. # Poor Chris! What rough time he is having of it.
I wonder if he is up to writing about his life in Greenland? In combination
with his pictures it would make a most attractive book. But it takes skill
to be simple in narration, and he might try too hard. # My car seems to run
splendidly now and should do at least the winter without any problems. As
I told you it does seem rather too hard on a brand new car to park it daily
all winter in the cold and slush. The polish and paint simply disintegrate.
And I might just possibly think it wise to carry on for still another year
in order to take advantage of the new safety devices that the law will require
on new cars for 1968. I have no vanity about driving an old car, as you know.
Don't forget your generosity either in saying that if I suddenly needed one I
might take the funds from the savings account here. So do not think of touching
anything in Switzerland, unless you prefer keeping the secret reserve here as
large as possible.. # And now for the 5th, which came too late yesterday for
me to comment on. I was shocked at the death of the old dame at the Burier
station.. I remember how carefully you warn me against just such a possibility.
I was sorry too that Elsie's nervousness kicked her up just before departure.
But imagine that once she is in the Seasme she will relax. # Have not seen

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

Spectrum 4, but will manage a peek at it when I come over. # Glad you begin to feel New England. I think we must have a full day together to poke over Salem. I need to do this myself, especially in the Custom House area (near the House of the Seven Gables) where I have never really just walked. You might like Cape Ann too, and of course we must do Concord carefully and again. Cooper's country is really upper New York State, and we can try Cooperstown sometime for an ausflug. We'll keep you busy. # And oh, how I long to hear of Petrie's row and the association! You were cruel not to spell it out. # I was reassured by Pup's letter to learn that Nikki was only suffering new boy's pain. I am not at all surprised that he kicks against the pricks. At home he seemed to run wild from my generation's sense of proper bedtime and study, spending most of his time with his phonograph after a quick run-thru of his lessons.

I was somewhat amused by the reappearance of the Madoc legend. The book is perhaps something we might want to see when it appears. Will you send the clipping back with the next yellowback. I might want to refresh my memory of it before the conference on the Vinalnd map in mid-November at the Smithsonian. The other clipping can be tossed, since I have a duplicate. I thought only that you and Elsie might be interested in seeing what the building was actually like.

Last night as I was going through some unopened second-class mail I ran across the catalogue of Bergman Publishers. 224 West Twentieth Street, New York, N.Y. 10011, a firm I had not heard of. They announce the republication by photo-offset of all 54 issue of CLOSE UP, the 10 volumes to cost $340.00. But when you wrote, I remembered it as being the possible republication of LIFE AND LETTERS by Kraus. (Did you do anything about that? I suggested permission with the royalties they suggested.) Did you or Kenneth give the permission for this? Possibly it is all in the public domain and does not require any permission. But if neither of you did OK it, would it not be a good idea for me to have my New York literary lawyers find out just what it is all about? One might be able to squeeze something for Kenneth out of this. Anyhow it is good to know where one is.

Must go home now and have lunch before we try our first football game of the year. It is a perfect day outside, the sun is bright and the air is crisp. I hope Yale wins. It won its first game, and then lost last week in the fearful rain. Wish you were here to join me.

All love,
Norman

8 October 1966

Dearest Fido,

I did sneak back to the office after the game, discovering that
Susan was down to four dollars in cash on which to go until I came back
Tuesday night, unless she were to take a cab to the bank to cash a check
during my absence. So to the drugstore to cash one for her and for myself
too, since when I paid the grocery bill (unexpected) I had too little to
carry me through comfortably. I grow a little confused trying to keep so
many balls in the air at one time.

The weather was warmer at the game than expected, but most
pleasant to sit out in, and most pleasant too to see Yale win 17-0. Tho
I must say I did not find Yale likely to be a world-beater this year,
despite several excellent players and the chance that they will put on
a great show for you next year. Now they are mostly sophomores and a
little too green.

I forgot to say this morning that I have had a letter from
Pantheon saying that Collins have had an offer from Hodder & Stoughton
to include The Player's Boy in their "library of great historical novels."
"The terms they suggest are £150 payable on publication and royalties of
10% to 5,000 and 12 1/2% after." These terms may be altered slightly
but on the whole seem all right to me and so I have said to go ahead.
The series is Rosemary's if I am correct, and it is nice to have this
particular book in it.

Thursday when I went to New York was rather hectic but
pleasant, and I daresay Helen will give you a proper description of the
lecture itself. She was at the Stadelmayers for supper beforehand--just
the four of us, and nothing could have been pleasanter. I like Maria
immensely; she is very much my cup of tea, and is very solid and warm
at the core. Peter is a type I know well, from a good family, intelligent
within a formula, will not strain anyone's patience by his ambition for
he has little of that, is shrewder underneath than one would think,
and plays his non-facecard hand carefully.

The lecture hall was most elegant and pleasant, rather like
your mamma's drawing room, for it obviously once was one, and there was
a good-sized audience of about one hundred which was certainly more than
I expected would come out to hear me speak on a subject connected with
Germany. Actually I gave my old dusty on the American poet as the maker
of language, with a slight twist of asked questions as to whether one could
do the same with the German language. I am sure it was not quite what they
had expected, but it seemed to go down reasonably well with the professors
and minor poets of advanced age who attended. There was a social hour after-
wards and I was besieged by old dames and old herrens who wanted to send me
books of their poetry, and I hardly had a chance to see my old friends at

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

11 October 1966

Dearest Fido,

This is only to report in as of New Haven again. There turned out not really to be any program this morning at the Smithsonian, so I slept a little later than usual (until 8:00), treated myself to a barber's shaving, and then went to the Freer Collection of Oriental Art to pick up two drawings said to be by Hokusai that I had sent over yesterday for the Director to see. I had bought them this summer from Japan, after having had several sent on approval. The Director is really the world's authority on Hokusai, and I was warmed not only by his complete endorsement of them as originals but by his congratu- lations. The Freer has a collection 66 some 200 drawings and water- colors (I had one of each), and indeed three watercolors that quite miraculously seem to have been painted on the same day from exactly the same palette. I finally left the drawings for him to photograph for his archives and return to me. It was nice too for my thrifty heart to find that they the two are worth at least four times what I paid for them.

From the Gallery I rushed to the airport and hurried along to catch the 11:30 shuttle plane to New York, being overtaken by three Orientals rushing even faster. They rushed and they rushed, and I had just had my ticket checked and moved toward the far end of the room and the exit to the field when there was a gigantic crash of broken glass, and one of the Orientals head-down and charging with suites in either hand had mistaken a ceiling high plate glass window for the exit and crashed through it. The flight guards flew to him crying out the fetch the doctor, I expected to find the man covered with blood and dead, but he was only crouched over holding his head in his hand and when the second Oriental went to him looking up and grinning like a foolish child. The hostess from the plane had charged down the steps too to go to him, and I benefited by the plane's delay so I could get on. But they did not let the bird in flight fly further, and I hope he was taken to a hospital for the headache that was bound to come in a few minutes. If indeed he did not fracture his skull. It was all rather breath-taking.

I got a hot-dog to eat at the terminal in New York, caught the limousine, got back to the office in time to go to a professor's meeting, and now must go home to take Susan (increasingly bored by captivity) to the symphony concert.

But at least I am back and will write tomorrow. Hope all goes well in London.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

12 Columbus 1966

Dearest Fido,

Great excitement when I opened a package in the noon's mail and pulled out a copy of *January*. I am always happy when I see another of your milestones and this is a particularly fine one. I won't be rereading it for a bit, though I did glance at the jacket material and was a little sorry to see they had left out so much of my gannetry. I had put the reference in about this book as a winter's tale, in case some missed the sense of *A January* tale. But naturally I am not a publisher and so cannot really know what is best. A note said that a copy had been sent you airmail at the Sesame, so I am not rushing mine. Nine others are going to you surface.

This reminds me that if you have a moment you might drop in on Maggs and see if the slipcase has been made for the manuscript of *January*, which you are *giving* Helen. It was to have been completed in September. At any rate, you might like to sign the manuscript for Helen with a little inscription, and then Maggs could send it directly to her in New York. Thus the ms can wait until the slipcase is done. Not a bad idea to jog them anyhow.

A nice note from Peter Stadelmayer was here from me when I returned from Washington. I enclose as a footnote to the Goethe House evening, and also as an example of how tricky the English nuance of language is. Still, he was shrewd to note that the audience had been "taken in" by the lecture even if he was translating another idiom.

Two dividend checks have come from the Co-Op as your patronage refund of books purchased during the past year. One for $11.02 and the other for $2.90. We spoke of this and you agreed to my returning them to the Co-op to be credited to your account. I stopped in after lunch and bought you your copy of *Virgil Thomson's memoirs*, charging your account.

Letters from you for the 6th, 7th and 8th were here to greet my return. None today but of course you were en route to London at mailing time. I'm delighted at the chance of your seeing Sachie. If the visit is still to come, greet him for me. It has been too long since you've seen him, and with Edith dead and Osbert at Montegge foni he will be lonesome. I suppose he has his circle, but I really wonder. At least he seldom mentions them in letters. # Very good too that Herzog has gotten at the root of Elsie's difficulties. Sinus can be nasty and I am glad he will continue to watch it. # Yes, no wonder you have gone a bit stale, with so much happening in the way of Fides to distract you. And, really, *January* is just barely over. One has to wait a month or two for a new Spring. # Wish I could have seen your letter of advice on SF for the Jugs, but how few novels of any kind *do* without political overtones, especially in historical novels of the past or future. # Pleased that they are kind to you at the bank. All may well blow over, and you won't have to go upstairs often anyhow.

An afternoon of meetings, and I shall have to pop back to the office tonite to do a report. Tjought you might be amused at the enclosed clipping from the Gardner News. Maybe this is what the Jugs want. But does God?

All love,
Norman

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

13 October 1966

Dearest Fido,

Wonderful to know that you and Elsie are safely at the Sesame, and I judge lucky to have found a room at the Inn. But I am disappointed that none of my letters were waiting for you when you arrived. I should judge it takes longer to reach a destination in London than in Burier. I was delighted to have the London account of the new discovery of North America, and by now at least I hope you have had the similar clipping I sent you.

I began the day by taking Susan's Chevrolet to the service station for its overhaul, our usual pre-winter gesture. Susan will hardly be able to use it for another month or more, but it will make her feel better to know it is waiting for her in the garage. By the way, the carpenter did come early in the week, says the steps into the garage are much too narrow and of uneven height, and will build us better ones. The next time it might have been Susan's neck.

The rest of the day has been spent in getting reports on fellowship applications to the college Dean's office -- these are for junior members of the faculty. Since then I have been reading away at a dissertation. Glib rather than profound, but I think acceptable. The girl has been at it for so many years that I shall be relieved if she does get it. Tonight I have to take Susan to the theatre.

I forgot to mention in the last batch in yellowback what a good letter you had from Martin Delgarno. He does seem to have done well, and is certainly appreciative. A good letter enclosed by you earlier as from Silvia Dobson. I simply have not been able to get at her manuscript in this dissertation-reading period, but will try to soon. I only hope she will not be disappointed. So many necessarily are.

What dull letter this is, but what a dull boy I am.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

14 October 1966

Dearest Fido,

As I called a taxi and it came to Goodrich Street about 2 this afternoon, in it was Susan on her way home from the doctor's. She was beaming, because she was wearing really only a splint for her wrist, with a bandage up to her elbow. Her fingers I take it were reasonably free. "When I asked the doctor if I could drive, he said "Certainly not!"" but she didn't seem to mind that. Now she can wear a dress with a sleeve.

Actually the early afternoon was mightily confused and crowded. I went home for lunch at noon so as to drive Susan to the doctor's (cabs are so uncertain). Her appointment was for 1:00, and I went on for an appointment of my own at 1:30 for my shots (now I go on a once-a-month schedule), meanwhile buying some heavy manila envelopes for her at the stationers. Then I went to the bakery and to the jewellers, and from there back with the Oldsmobile to Goodrich Street where I could garage it, call the cab and go to the Chevrolet garage to pick up Susan's station wagon which I had left yesterday to be winterized. But by the time I got back to the office I was a half hour late for my first appointment and ran late for the rest of the afternoon.

Last night we went to the theatre to see a so-called modernist play, *Viet Rock* (in the sense of rock and roll), supposed to be the horrified protest of the young against the war (tho that was not why we went). It was a kind of hurly-burly Brecht, with some Weil-like music and not very modernist at all, unless Brecht is still avant-garde after more than thirty years. My trouble was that I couldn't always get the tone, and the mere playing of America the Beautiful (tho hardly my favorite song musically) could not roll me in the aisles with ironic laughter. Still it was a first effort on the part of the new regime at the drama school. The second play is also to be a musical on Viet Nam. Really! Methinks they protest wrongly.

Odd that in a recent letter you should have mentioned St. Mary Aldermanbury and its removal to Fulton, Missouri. I have just had an appeal in the mail to contribute to the cost of reassembling it, one of those appeals that get sent to mailing lists of a half a million. I most certainly don't disapprove, even tho I don't plan to make a pilgrimage. But I think there are other ways to spend my shillings.

Yours of the 11th came with its enclosure from Helen. I must say the two ladies startled me too! # I look forward to the Freeman book. I need to read more about leather jackets before I buy one for myself. What a busy time you are having. I await word as to your departure but meanwhile will keep sending to the Sesame. Greetings of course to all.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

15 October 1966

Dearest Fido,

A morning of housecleaning at the desk: bills, notes and
letters, but none of the letters of recommendation which I shall have to
work at tomorrow. Next Saturday there will be no football game, so I
can get a full day in then.

I have just sent 'elen the list for complementary copies
of January. They do not like to send these out too far in advance of
the day of publication so there should be no actual delay in the receipt.
Wrote the Director of the National Collection of Arts, In Washington,
who has just heard that Romaine remains in Fiesole until after Christmas,
so he postpones his visit to Nice until February. I think I told you I
was contributing the money for his plane ticket, since the Smithsonian
has not budget for such. (I don't see why!) I may however have forgotten
to tell you that he went into long apologies as to why the Smithsonian
could not publish her memoirs, the manuscript of which Natalie Barney
had sent. It really isn't appropriate for them to do it, and I so consoled
him. I didn't get a chance to talk to Helen about a private printer but
will make a point of it. Obviously, now that the paintings have been
taken care of, Romaine's heart is set on having the memoir in print. I
can both understand and sympathize. But, oh, what one gets in for.

No letter from you today, but yesterday's yellowback was
anseally good reading. Everyone seemed to have something to say. Chris's
latter from Greenland I found fascinating. How they manage I don't know,
but he seems to be a gentle husband as well as a good hunter. I think
he is really meant for Greenland. # Tom Lethbridge's letter was fascinating
too in its different way, but I am sorry he is getting restless at Hole
House. I think his blood warms for the arena, and he sees himself back
with the gladiators again. # Melitta's letters was, as you say, a surprise
in its adjustment and even keel. For the first time she seems to be a little
relaxed, as though a strain were over. # But, what a letter from Una Cheverton.
She must be quite simply mad, and I fear for you if you stray into her
clutches. Unless of course you want to take up residence with her collection
of dames, and have her do your marketing. But doesn't she even known that
Hilda is dead? # Catha's letter was sad. I wonder what she will find. I
don't blame her for being discouraged. # Lôos appears to have had less fun
in Japan and afterwards than at the beginning of her trip, especially in
Russia. I suspect she saw only the cities and tourist centers of Japan, in
thinking it occupied. One feels the same way in Grosvenor Square, or even
in Washington where my hotel was filled with touring Japs, Germans, and the
French, all milling around the corridors. # Rose will I hope settle down.
Horace phoned a day or so ago, to say that his ms on D.R. had finally gone
to the printers and would be published next April on the same day as the
reissue of Pilgrimage. So that matter must be settled. He said he felt
always a little better, and was even getting some work done. But no new
poems as yet. I am always hoping that these crises he has been through
will mean a new period and development of his poems.

Must close and run back for lunch. Then the football game
and afterwards the Ingholts.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

16 October 1966

Dearest Fido,

It is raining hard outside, so we could not go to the shore this morning for still more goods to return to town; instead I have been given an hour or two at my office. I actually begin with the rest of the yellowback, for no better motive than to have finished with the letters and put them away to be filed. I noticed no letter from Rosemary, but you had mentioned she liked the stockings so I judge there will be one later. Did you bring the brooch to England to give her? I gathered she wanted it to wear this winter. You could actually mail it from Switzerland as a Christmas gift or gift of small value. A nice thank-you note from the Ash. And a really good letter from Jacques Beney which I was glad to read. He means everything he said in it, and I don't think now that you'll need to change your bank. Simply, as you remarked, you won't go upstairs so often. Joan's letter also good. She seems really to be on her feet, only I doubt still that she would manage so well in England. The tensions would be different, even with one or the other parent gone. # Interesting that Herrings appears to be taking up correspondence with you again. I suspect he misses the weekly talk with Baylis. # I gather from the Boys' letters that they really are trying to tuck Mummy away somewhere. I only hope it won't be so close to you in Switzerland that you have to become a mummy's mummy. # I think I told you that I had actually gotten O?B.'s book for him and sent it off. Rather an expensive one, but it looked excellent and I was delighted to be able to send him something. # That, I think, finishes that, although there were other letters I enjoyed reading. Yellowbacks become part of my blood, and I thank you for the transfusions.

Two new though slight additions to the Dusty Diamonds have come, and I have just had a list from Brimwell of others, most of which I have ordered. So your necklace grows. One of the two new ones is Captain Jack by Fenn (a small child's story I would not take except for enlarging Fenn); the other is a fine copy of Collingwood's The Congo Rovers. Last night I talked Henty with Agatha Christy and was delighted that he was an idol of her girlhood (she is 75). In fact she had only just re-read THE CAT OF BUBASTES which was her favorite. "Really very good still," she said. She hoped I liked Fenn. She thought the idea of the collection an excellent one, and I have suggested that if she runs out of reading on her present tour with her husband I will ship her a few diamonds to dandle.

The evening at the Ingholts was a pleasant one. We went after the football game, or rather after changing after the game. I should think there must have been about fifteen people there, and with the two centers -- herself but primarily Mr Mallowan (13 years younger than she is, but she seems as young as he is; why not?) as an archaeologist. I believe his present interest is chiefly the ivory carvings excavated at Nimrod. He is trying to sell some to raise money for future excavations. He was much interested in our collection of eskimo ivory carvings, and would like to see them when he comes back to lecture at Yale early in December. He was a fellow of All Souls, and we laughed about Rowse whom he finds entertaining altho a little goes, he says, a long way. He simply accepts him as now a bit cracked. His wife you would like. She is very savvy with a twinkle, big, and more a bonne dame than a grande dame, although sure of herself in a relaxed way. One of my former

undergraduate students has just finished a book on her. We spoke of him but obviously she likes being Mrs Mallowan when she is not writing a book or collecting royalties.

Returning for the moment to the Choygal and Gyalmo of Sikkim, I had an interesting footnote on them from the Dean of the Forestry School here who had drinks with them in their New York apartment before the Choygal gave an illustrated talk at Asia House. When not in public, the Gyalmo pushes aside her low posture whisper and si si si's, and shouts like a Srah Lawrence school girl. The Choygal game in, poured himself a stiff drink and said he was so scared of the lecture that he'd better take a tranquiliser. The Dean remarked that he thought Sikkim-Tibet would of all places train one not to need such pills, but the Choygal laughed. "You know why I come to the States so often?" he said. "It's to get my prescriptions filled to take back."

This is probably the last letter I dare risk to the Sesame, unless I hear that you are staying on after all. But at least you will keep busy once you are back and consulting with Coigny. The end of the '64 Swiss restrictions on foreign investments in Swiss securities will make quite a difference in Fides' investment policy, I should think. Or a little difference anyway. The bankers, I gather, threw their hats into the air at the news.

All love,

Norman

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

17 October 1966

Dearest Fido,

Last evening's "do" with the Noh players was rather fun. Susan and I were among the comparatively few non-Japanese speaking people there, and the players spoke no English. But a little skill in the use of interpreters made things go all right. I joked a little with Fusao Hosho, the leader, about the six-hour length of Noh productions in Japan, and he said I must have seen them in Kyoto: in Tokyo, he said, we can't do more than a couple of hours. I had a longish talk also with the younger leading man about his apprenticeship as a player. He began as a boy actor of eight, from a family of Noh players, though he is the only one to have kept on with the profession. At puperty when his voice was changing he became discouraged and almost gave it up, but concentrated instead on dancing until his new voice came. We talked too about playing women's roles, since we'll do that tomorrow (no women play either Noh or Kabuki, as in Elizabethan times. He said it was much easier to do in Noh than in Kabuki, since in Noh one wears robes and a mask and moves in formalized steps. Kabuki on the other hand wear not use masks, and is naturalistic. (Actually, most though not all of the men who play women's roles in Kabuki live as women and never play men's roles. They are extraordinary: I saw one who played old women as though he were both old and a woman; another played a young girl so beautifully, and was so beautiful, one would have liked to nuzzle her.) Tonight we see the performance in the Yale Theater. This is the first Noh troup to play in America, we are told.

A lovely note today from Marie Anne, thanking for my note to her and signed "With love" to us. I was pleased of course at that. And separately one from her brother saying he was getting at work and would send over the documents so that I needn't come before March.

And a glorious sack of mail from you, for which my thanks. Five in all, of the 11th, 12th, 13th(two), and 14th. I am glad that the letters at last began to arrive. Perhaps this might reach you if you stayed on at the Sesame until the 22nd, but you haven't said, and I dare not risk it. Otherwise there would be nothing to welcome you home. I was much interested in the various chapters in the Sitwell saga. What a pity that Reresby should be at odds with the family, but he now has money of his own doesn't he? That always makes a difference. And I suspect he looks forward to being Sir Reresby, which he is likely to be for a longer time than the interim Sir Sacheverell. But I daresay Reresby has spirit and is more like his uncle and aunt than his father. or feels he is. It is most alarming about Sachie's health; one can only cross one's fingers. But pleasant that Osbert is gandering a little. I know how Osbert Sachie must feel about Edith's Moore-stone. In a sense it would be a pity, too, to have people pay pilgrimages to see the stone instead of the grave. But I should think it might be difficult to refuse. Some time I'd like to pay a pilgrimage to the grave, and it would be fun to see Sachie's home if he is there in residence at the time.

I was much interested in Ronnie Edwards' reaction to Alan. Actually it might be rather a good idea for him to get out and work for a bit, and then return to studies if he wants them. The point being that then he really would want them, and know their importance. Quite right I suspect that he really doesn't

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

want to compete with older brother, and indeed older brother's energy and
activity on the farm may have taken the burden off Alan's shoulders. Alan
is rather young for his age, and a little easy-going; but he will turn out
all right, at the moment he is only a little like a big puppy.

Ronnie has indeed been good about Alan, and will continue to be. He
does have gratitude and I think it very likely is true that you saved both
his job and his life. At least you have saved my life, over and over again,
so I speak with empathy. How could I possibly have stood up under so many
catastrophes and strains without your hand to help? I sometimes give a
Puritan shudder when I think of the impossibility of alternatives.

I really am pleased that you liked _January_, but can't say I blame
Elsie for grabbing it. So would I, had I not read it before. The idea of
sending it airmail to London was all Helen's, though my first thought was
to send you one of my two, had she not slipped in a note that one had been
sent. When I saw her last she had had no idea when copies would be available.

Perhaps Kenneth will write either you or me about Close Up and we can
see. It will be interesting to know if he gave permission. Though perhaps
it can be printed without permission. One would have to get a lawyer's
opinion on that.

How sad to have your report of your visit to Maggs. I wonder if you
went again or rang up about Helen's manuscript. I can't help but feel the
cold wind of ultimate disaster for them. One really has to get up from
sitting on one's heels in the rare book business. But of course they may
quietly do big deals. The actual stock one sees in a rare book shop usually
isn't much indication of the business, which except for auction sales is one
reason so many dealers live in the country for lower rents. One will miss
Phippson at Spinks. I do wish you could have had your big lion. How jealous
Tigerli would be even of a stone rival! I know I shall not have the courage
to wait until Christmas for your gift. But you spoil me, you see, even in
saving me.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

18 October 1966

Dearest Fido,

What a gala letter! It was a tapestry in itself, and like the
Bayeux a treasure. I shall put this and the set away until Justus is a little
older. I have always saved the Shakespeare first-day cover but have never
given him that either. I have had one or two come in with recent stamps,
so he begins to get the idea of them. And he had Elsie's gift which is another
lesson. But better not to risk Hastings just yet.

The stamps really are handsome. And how poised the Queen seems
among all the carnage.

I was much interested in Ronny Edwards' opinion on various matters,
and pleased that he had done so much to find a crammer for Alan. It is probably
a good thing, and I hope Alan makes the most of it in a serious way. The A levels
obviously occupy much the same role that the B.A. does here. Without it one is
hopeless. But I doubt that you debauch the A level as much as we do the B A level.

We went last night to see the Noh plays, which we enjoyed and which
made us nostalgic for Japan. I had parked in a lot by the Yale Press, the
official parking spaces being full, private but since after business hours I
saw no reason why the owner would object. But he apparently did, and must have
come back to the office to discover me there, though there were a half dozen
empty spaces even so. But when we returned after the theatre the car had been
towed away. Fortunately friends had parked, safely, nearby and I had them take
Susan home while I went to a phone, called the police, found where the car had
been hauled to, called a cab, went the three miles, paid ten dollars for the
towing fee and thence back to Goodrich Street for a stiff nightcap. The owner
was perfectly within his right to have my car towed away (the police are then
notified but one has not committed an offense against them), but it did seem a
little ungenerous, it being after hours and my being there inconveniencing no one.

Well, I shall know better next time.

19 October 1966

Dearest Fido,

The rain has been pelting down all day. It will rejoice Susan and all horticulturalists and farmers, but it was frustrating to the carpenter who came with the shelves to be installed in the basement for my eskimo carvings, and it has given me a sense of being penned in. Still, how otherwise would I have kept so faithfully to a dissertation on Virginia Woolf? (I have to whisper that she is not so great a favorite of mine, as by decency on my part she ought to be. So I have nodded once or twice when I read about her pure beauty.) Actually I haven't accomplished much more than this (I will try to finish the last hundred pages at home tonight), except for the usual chores and interruptions.

Part of yesterday was spent in phone calls from every direction about Ingolt's quarrel with the bull-in-the-china-shop-dame who has been Secretary to the Connecticut Academy of which Harald has been president. As vice-president I stood between and batted away the broken crockery so that it could reach neither of them. Harald was retiring, she was to have a second term, Harald screamed and tried to get me to lead a revolution, she called me to ask if I was, I was not, now today she has resigned even before the annual meeting on Thursday. Where will they find a successor for her? I don't know. Fortunately I don't care, and had persuaded Harald to quiet down but only too late.

I forgot to write yesterday that the latest letter-cum-bill from Horace's nurse, said, "On two occasions I have been able to take him out in my car--Once, a Sunday eve three weeks ago to see the film Alexander Nevsky that was being shown in the church hall, and also last Tuesday he was invited to a meeting in the library and despite the fact that it did not begin until 9 pm he was keen to attend. Such outings are a great bookst for his morale and he does enjoy them although they are tiring." I am glad he can get an occasional change of air.

I had noted Roger Loomis's death. He was the husband of a friend of mine, but I hadn't known he was born in Japan. I remember your duel with him.

Your letter of the 15th came today, so I am risking this to the Glock even though I sent yesterday's to Kenwin. I can easily imagine how your schedule was thrown out by having to attend to Alan's affairs. In these matters Dean and her husband are like the Gregories. But it is vitally important to Alan that you should help him to have his chance. I hope he will make the most of it. I am much impressed by the care Ronnie Edwards takes, the mark of a fine man that he can take time out from his busy life to help you in this way.

Sachie's letter was very sad indeed. Don't tell me he doesn't know or suspect the worst. But how sad to have been the youngest and depended so much upon both Edith and Osbert for fame and family. I suppose he can't help hearing and having heard, "And then there is Sacheverel of course." But he has a real purity, even innocence of heart that makes it possible for some one like myself to feel closer to him than the others.

Somehow I had gotten a little off the track and thought of this
Queenwood day not a rehearsal but as the Day of Glory itself. But how extra-
ordinary it is for so many of the old girls to get together. It seems almost
more American than British in alumni spirit, but then I have never been to a
Gaudy at Oxford so really have no basis for judgment. I am glad you prayed;
I prayed for you and the happiness and success of the reunion. But I could
not supply the motto. Some day I will find the right one just for you and
Ethel, and we will all kneel together androgynously and then I shall give
you a proper headmistressing for the day. Some day you must tell me in more
detail about Petrie's hell and havoc, and what the response to her book really
was like, and what the prospects for publication are for the sacred text or
testament. Should it not be bound in mustard yellow? I shall ask Mrs Page
for at least one duscarded gown to bind your own copy in, if my idea is
rejected for the whole edition.

I thought I had finished with letters of recommendation. But today
another batch of requests for me to write them came in. All for the same
competition. Perhaps the judges will award the fellowship to me for having
displayed so much literary imagination in describing the merits of the contenders!

Do give my greetings to Joan if you see her. And to the front desk at
the Glock, and to the hundreds of clerks we know in common.

Now, out into the deluge.

All love,

20 October 1966

Dearest Fido,

What fun! Last night when I went home the sliding drawers for the eskimo carvings had been installed in the cellar. The top had not been finished, there was sawdust inside the drawers, and no velvet linings had been laid in. But I have been imagining now what it will be like when I can fill at least a few of the drawers with the carvings, and the others with similar treasures now dispersed around the house. I hope you will like them. The carpenter this morning, when he came again, said that they had thought no lining because it cost fifty dollars more. But I repeated yes; otherwise everything will slip around.

I have finished the dissertation on Virginia Woolf, I am glad to say, and that is now off my hands. Only I could not get to the finishing of the rewrite of my little history of American literature, which is overdue and must be finished by this weekend. As to Woolf, I never remember Hilda speaking of her. But they must have met at least occasionally. But how self-conscious the Wollf was as an artist. The quotations from her diary were like herself seeing herself in a mirror.

Your letters of the 16th and 17th came today. I am sorry about cousin Jack; this really hasn't been a gay series of calls on your part. But at least he is sensibly seeing a new doctor. In a sense I suppose he really doesn't want to. It is easier to live without a future. # Many thanks for giving my the Glock's zone number. I sent yesterday's simply to the hotel. I hope it will have reached you. Otherwise I suppose it gets returned here. # Philip does lead a complicated life, but I was much interested in his observations. He manages to keep in touch remarkably well. # And I was most interested that hair in England was growing shorter. Fads shift I suppose, and this one has slipped by me without my having missed a visit to the barber.

I onight we have to go to Harald's last meeting as president of the Connecticut Academy. Will there be drama, now that the secretary has resigned three days before her term was up? Will she be there? Will she and Harald speak if she is? Will she speak to me? Will I stay awake during the lecture? What problems the immediate future presents.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

21 October 1966

Dearest Fido,

Just back *after* giving an oral examination for the doctorate in English this afternoon, and *after* getting back to the garage to pick up my Oldsmobile on which I had had to have a new tire put. I have only ten minutes before home, but at least I can send a note in time for the final pick-up so that your Zurich days will not be absolutely without thought of me. I must come back tonight to begin work on the encyclopedia article which should have been begun earlier this week and earlier today, But the morning went into to compision of a scolding missive to the Associate Provost, and the noon into lunching at home in order to drive Susan to the doctor's -- though I left her there to take a cab when she was through, and went to the garage to leave my car for the tire.

Last night I got home to find the new stairs from the garage into the back hall. What a fool I was not to realise the old ones could have been replaced years ago. These are now broad enough to hold a picnic on, on each of the treads. You will applaud I know when you see and try them. Later, after dinner, we went to the Connecticut Academy. It was pleasant except for the fact that the illustrated lecture by the Director of the Ny Carlsberg Glyptothek in Copenhagen, on recently discovered imperial portraits from late antiquity went from 8:30 until 10, and I was awfully relieved that the Roman empire hadn't continued any longer. Like a barbarian, it being so late, we did not stay for the collation but went home for a drink and bed.

A letter from Kenneth today said he knew absolutely nothing about the reprinting of *Close Up*. he did not seem disturbed, saying he was sure they wouldn't reprint if not within their rights, but that it would be fine to inquire through my New York lawyer. I do think this a good idea, and if you agree I will put him on it as for Kenneth and yourself. The boys' plan now seems to be to go around the world and end up in New York about March.

Yours of the 18th arrived this morning. I had not realised the extra trunk at Coutts was silver. It will be nice for Joan eventually to have the dressing set after her mother is finished with it, but I think you were most wise to keep the tea service yourself. Perhaps as Pup's pups grow up you may want her to have it. I should imagine it must be handsome. And wise too to sell the Times shares. Obviously you have made good use of your time.

What a pity for Elsie to have had a cold to spoil the end of her trip. I am quite an addict of common cold as well as flu shots, and were you not already a believer I should insist that you too have them

Time to fly. My best to Joan when you see her, and to Madam Herf if you have the courage and time to let her come in.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

22 October 1966

Dearest Fido,

I seem really foxed in my efforts to write the revision and extension of the literary history for the Encyclopedia Americana. It was due August 1st. No wonder they are furious, for the book is being held up. I promised it faithfully for Monday morning. But how? I came back and worked until midnight last night doing the words on 19th century American humorists. But they're not my cup of tea which is why I left them out of the original. This morning I tried to do 19th century dramatists, which is not my cup either. But I had to go home at noon to take Susan and lauddry to the shore, found the grandchildren there which meant we spent longer at the shore than otherwise. Came back to the office at 4 for an hour, only to have an ex secretary of the English Department, with husband, spend three-quarters of an hour visiting. One can't say, Get Out. But oh, dear. And now I must go home to help Susan with the bath she insists on taking before she dresses to go to young Susan's for supper. I only wish literary composition could take place by immaculate conception.

Have a good time in Zurich. I will write tomorrow to Kenwin.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

23 October 1966

Dearest Fido,

I take a little Sunday office-breather after just having

rewritten (the reason for this double-spacing) the awkward section of
19th century American drama I scratched out yesterday, and a rewritten
and expanded version of the original section on the impact of philosophy
and criticism (20th century) which I have managed to do this morning
after the breakfast dishes and helping a little with watering the
orchids in the greenhouse. But Susan manages the latter mostly herself
now, except for the heavier loads of water which have to be reached up
and out. I don't think I said that this Friday's visit to the doctor
resulted in the taped banadage and splint being replaced by an ace-
bandage (elastic) and splint, which can be removed and redone by me.
As yesterday when for the first time she could take a shower. But,
alas, some plaster has come out between the tiles, and the water
leaked into the downstairs hall, so we will have to wait for the
tile-man before she can try again.

We did have lovely weather for the shore, and managed
to pile the last of the furniture from her mother's house into the
station wagon to bring back, and take the last of the summer's laundry
down to be packed away for the winter. We went to the big house, but
now we can only say "what was the big house", for only a huge pile of
rubble remains. It is really sad to see a giant fall, and somehow
without the building sprawling around the rocky point, the point
itself looks small indeed. It would be far better to see Indians
encamped there again, as they used to do in summer when they pitched
their tents and delighted in oysers and fish.

Last night we had supper with Susan and the grandchildren.
It is interesting to see how the change in decor reflects the change in
situation. Jim wanted only bare walls and no rugs and a minimum of
furniture so that I always suffered in the two canvas seats available.
Now there are pictures on the wall, and rugs on the floor, the two
children each happily have rooms of their own, with curtains and book-
shelves. Little Susan wanted us to read to her, but in the end she
read to her grandparents herself, with a little help from me in putting
syllables together. Even sitting down she danced with joy as new words
emerged, and really shook all over with excitement when she called out
to her mother, "I've read ---", giving the word. It was exciting to see
her excitement, because it was so much like my own at that time. Justus
is different; his excitement comes when he succeeds in making something.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

I think I am at last beginning really to believe with you that there is a really powerful communist group within the British establishment. And a sinister one too. For how could George Blake escape with a rope ladder and cut bars from Wormwood Scrubs Prison on Saturday without inside collusion! You may recall that on my one, secret discussion about Philby with the authorities here, they pointed out Blake as an equally serious and scandalous instance. And how could the British service return to active duty and consequent responsibilities a native Dutchman who had been a prisoner in North Korea, with admitted brainwashing, for 17 months. It violates common sense quite apart from professional experience. But now to permit a man to escape! What a reunion Blake (neBerar) will have in Russia.

I did not thank you for your note of the 19th which came yesterday. I wonder if I will here from John Maggs while he is in the States. He certainly has not sent the ms of January and the slipcase to me yet, and I didn't think I gave him Helen's address, though I may have. #I'm sorry that Dean saddled you with the evaluation. These things do take time, and are a real nuisance. So I am all the sorrier to ask you if you managed to set things straight about Miss Bowee's t.v. If not, why not simply send the papers back here. I can write directly as I ought to have done in the first place. The letter about your Peacock was interesting. 11,300 copies sounds very good, and I imagine that what they said about the Hastings display was honestly said. It may be too that if bookstores stressed volumes connected with the 14th, they may have done so with books about the event itself rather than the consequences. But the sales for October will continue I'm sure, and now that they've recovered their money they may want to start again with other titles. Here, I believe, it takes a minimum of 25,000 to break even, even with higher priced paperbacks like yours. The really expensive ones, under a dollar, take 75-100,000 to pay off.

Welcome again back to Kenwin, though I imagine you will be there before this is.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

25 October 1966

Dearest Fido,

I did not write you yesterday, working instead like a little

beaver on the encyclopediac article, which as you can see from the double
space has been the last composition before this letter to you. I came back
last night too, and worked this morning, but now I am glad to say it is in
the mail box special-delivered to New York. What a relief! There are still
other overdue commitments, but nothing, I am glad to say, that threatens
to be quite so pressured as this last bit of hackwork. My desk is full
again, but it will seem like fun in the sun to be at it.

Yesterday's mail had yours of the 21st in it; today's brought
those for 19th and 20th. And unusual reversal. How they did move you about
at the Sesame. But it seems to me your trips to London become more and
more important, and you manage a good deal of business in them. The story
of the Maisham sisters troubled me, but I have long since realised that
similar stories trouble very few people other than yourself and me. One
speaks only of necessity, especially because necessity usually affects
others rather than one's self. It used to be the middle classes who
were attacked but wore the armor of prosperity. Now, the lower middle
classes have no protection at all. Oh to be a beatnik now that Labour's
in. # Many thanks for taking care of the Bowra situation. I am sorry to
have troubled you. # I was pleased that you were able to get Mollie Dobson
in, and I know it pleased her immensely. People need caring about. It
is not altogether surprising that Mervyn finds the adjustment difficult.
A secondary school teacher especially, but for any level really, needs
good students to keep his morale up, even his pride. Unless of course
one is a missionary. The pre-Eton phase of the old school was one thing;
now he is chiefly earning a living. As to the wife I think I understand.
Mervyn prides himself on being a gentleman, and so cannot shake the burden
of a wife who is mentally ill. Or, to put it another way, I doubt that
he has strong needs of the flesh to balance against the weight of pro-
priety. In any case he could not rid himself of the burden, so that a
divorce for the sake of bachelorhood is no advantage. In his room the
only picture on his dresser is the photograph of the bust of a naked
Hermes. The image must somehow sustain him. # Have not yet got to read
the Maureen Duffy, but now perhaps I can. Her earlier book you must tell
me about. # The exhibition of Moghul art was the one I saw at the National
Gallery in Washington, really superb material and probably much better
displayed than anything one could have seen on home territory. I am glad
you can manage it.

Susan wants to go to a symphony concert tonight, and insists
on a shower beforehand. So I go back to assist. If anything should ever
happen to her, what a career I could have going from house to house as a
bathmaid. Could I include you and Elsie as clients?

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

26 October 1966

Dearest Fido,

I seem to be able to catch the day only by the tail. So
you are allowed only one tale by me. For today, that is.

Day before yesterday I saw Cleanth Brooks and asked if
the Hotsons were back from Maine. He thought not, but wasn't sure.
For their chief point of contact had now vanished. It seems that
last spring, before Cleanth and his wife returned, the vestry of the
little episcopalian church the Brookses and Hotsons attended agreed
to the use (for a nominal fee) of two or three rooms weekly for one
night a week, in a new parish house the church had erected. Leslie
and, presumably Mary, too, became incensed at this for reasons that
were not quite clear to Brooks, insisted that the vestry as presiding
officers change their agreement, Leslie sent out a circular letter to
every member of the parish asking them to protest and revolt, the vestry
met again and confirmed its earlier agreement on the grounds of community
cooperation, and so Leslie and Mary are withdrawing from the church. They
had wanted a real revolution and Confederate-like withdrawal of a large
segment of the parish but only two or three families are going with them.
Unhappily, Cleanth says they expected him and his wife to follow. But
the Brookses will not. Cleanth says he remembers how as the son of a
minister in a little town in the South people had resented the newcomer
who tried to change the will the majority, so he and his wife had
always (even as member of the presiding vestry) tried not to present
himself as a superior intellectual.

As he says, he feels sorry for the church since the Hotsons
have done so much for it; but he also feels sorry for the Hotsons because
the church was their one point of contact with other people, and Mary will
so much miss the idea of her children. I feel both sorry and troubled
about both Leslie and Mary because it will isolate them from their little
village just as he has isolated himself from Yale. I actually wonder if
it wouldn't be better for them to sell the house and land, take a small
flat in Cambridge where they could use the Harvard Library and in winters
and really call Maine their home.

Well, it is a sad episode. I may not have gotten the details
correctly, and there may have been something on Leslie's side of the argu-
ment. But as Brooks said, sometimes one does have to bow the will of the
majority when nothing doctrinal is at stake.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

27 October 1966

Dearest Fido,

I start a little earlier today, though I shall be interrupted
by an eager young Japanese scholar who gives me typed questions and then
comes two days later for me to answer them. I had expected to spend the
morning, not looking up the answers, but reading the galleys of a book that
must be finished by tomorrow. Instead I had to spend time drawing up more
papers on the problem of finding my successor in American Studies. I wonder
if they ever will?

I include a few snaps I have kept out for you. I only wish I
could have heard Asimov, but I was busy at my desk. If we make a Boston trip
sometime we might try to dig him out of his shelter or pull him down from Mars.
The Freud book will obviously be published in England also, so will not order
for you unless so commanded. I will be curious to read it myself. I hesitate
to send along clippings about the escape of Blake but am not sure how much
the Times will contain, and you have not, so far, mentioned the case at all.
(The Jap has been and gone). The papers now say the British simply assume he
he safely in Russia; and what a triumph for the Russians it is. Better even
than landing on the moon. I doubt that the public will learn much from Earl
Mountbatten's investigation. It will be like similar investigations every
where in the world; that is, a blanket.

Your royalty statement from Harcourt's has come in: a total of
$178.62 (160.27 from hardcover; 18.35 from paperbacks). I will deposit it
in the savings account. Carthage sold 347 of the regular edition, and 31 under
special arrangements. (your royalty rate has now increased since a total of
5,000 has now been sold. Artemis sold 24 copies. Avalon sold 220, with 27
being sold for export. I find the latter interesting. The paperback edition
sold 367. All these are for sale for the six months up to June. It is good
that they all go along steadily.

Your three letters for the 23rd were here yesterday, but the
meeting went on so long that I could write nothing more than the newest
windmill tilting of Don Leslie. And your letter of the 25th was in today's
post. First let me ask: you politely said not to worry about zone numbers
for Zurich because using them delayed the mail. Should I then not use them
for Burier?

I felt a little tremble when I read the account of your visit
to Kusnacht. So much tumbled back into my mind: corners of the garden,
sandwiches at night with Papa Brunner, swans on the lake, the tennis court,
and of course Hilda, Hilda, Hilda everywhere.

And what a fantastic amount of shopping you and Elsie managed,
together or singly. It will be fun for her to have the little dining room
redone, though I shall miss its being exactly as it was. But obviously Elsie
must be perking up and she deserves a new feather now and then. I shall see
it all in full feather from the sit I am usually given.

Now back to a rather dull book on late 19th century American
literature which I must read in bound (no, unbound) proof in order to pass

on the faculty promotion of the author.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

28 October 1966

Dearest Fido,

No letter from you today, but of course you will have been on
your way back to Kenwin, and I like thinking of you in your tree-top nest
singing like mad through your typewriter. I still marvel at all you managed
in Zurich -- why not pop over for a couple of days a month during the winter.
You need the change and a warm room even though you now will be having hot
water when you want it. And the blue silk for your newtdress; I want to see
that too. You always have good taste in silks; this will be no exception.

Last night I read bravely on with the page proof of the book
by the candidate for promotion, but still have not read much more than a
third of it. The meeting is in another half hour, but I daresay I shall
have to go on with it later in order to prepare for the meeting of pro-
fessors to whom our committee reports. Then I go home to pick up Susan
and take her to a party to celebrate what was to have been the publication
of the Stevens letters. I go of course for Holly Stevens' sake, and then
we are to dine with Donald Gallup at the Faculty Club. The book actually
has been put off until the 14th of November, but the party is as for the
original publishing date. My review won't appear until later.

I had a note from the Encyclopedia Americana saying that the
ms I had sent off Tuesday afternoon by special delivery to New York only
reached there on Thursday. This really is a postal scandal. I could have
walked it there faster.

Do you recall the book of photographs of boys that Jean Starr
wanted to give you, and which you guessed more suitable for Uncle Norman
than yourself? What innocense on J.S.U.'s part! I had an advertisement
for it come by mail today. "Where else can one obtain hundreds of beautiful,
clear pictures of handsome kids, including some frontal nudes. There are
enough lovely sights here for hours of blissful fantasy." I doubt that
this will change your mind. Much better to stick to Restif.

We are having unbelievably fine autumn days just now, the air
crisp but nicely warm in the sun -- and the leaves golden and crimson. To-
morrow we go to the football game with Dartmouth. Yale is sure to lose
but the air will be intoxicating.

And now back to the proof sheets, but with a scratch behind your
ears and a warm nuzzling and gleeful sniffing to welcome you back to the
kennel.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

29 October 1966

Dearest Fido,

I had expected a nice quiet Saturday morning at the office, with a letter to you to cap it. As it has turned out the cap will be a tiny one. I puttered away, writing a note to thank for a book of poems to which I had written a foreword (those of an ex student), filled out various forms, paid innumerable bills, balanced my checkbook --- all of the gestures which help to reduce the clutter of papers on my desk and in desk drawers. Then the telephone rang and I was in the midst of an almost three-quarter-hour-long discussion with a couple at Johnson's Point on the problem of all that land which a Wallace Foote has been working on near the chauffeur's cottage, if you remember the great truckloads of fill that were being piled in. A neighbor farther down our own little side road managed to buy three lots across from himself for protection. Now there may be a chance for others to do the same, or to form a corporation to buy at least half rights to all the property. Although I don't believe in dipping into capital, I suspect that I might be tempted too in order to protect the woods at least down the road to the bridge. But we shall see. And certainly I heard.

No letter today either from you, so I shall be eager on Monday for the pile of them that will tell me about your return to Kenwin.

Last night's party for Holly Stevens was pleasant but not eventful, and we went on, as I told you, to the Faculty Club for dinner with Donald G allup. Then at nine home where I picked up again the manuscript of the book on Susan's greatgrandfather, Benjamin Silliman, Jr., who does seem to have gotten into all sorts of hot weather as a scientist. That is, a geologist who gave rather gaudy reports on gold and other minerals as well as oil, with a kind of speculative twist.

Susan's visit to the doctor yesterday filled her with glee. For he tells her she ought to go without splint or bandage when she is sitting around, and can begin to work without the splint but with the bandage so long as she lifts nothing heavy. Her eyes gleam with the hope that in another week perhaps she can begin to drive again. But what she really wants is an airplane in which to soar.

We go to the football game this afternoon.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

Dearest Fido,

Well, Yale did lose to Dartmouth: 28-13, rather worse a beating than I had expected. But the weather was fine, in the 60's, and I wore no coat. Suddenly last night the weather shifted and today it has not yet reached 40°F. There are roses in blossom which will not like the shift at all.

I came down this morning but actually got little done. Last
night just as we were going out to dinner at 7:15 the phone rang and an
Irish poet and potter, who had called on me last year on the introduction
of Patrick's Irish friend Richard Murphy, announced that he had come to
New Haven for overnight. Obviously he would have liked lodgings and dinner,
but really what can one do on such notice. Anyhow we were engaged for dinner,
but I had to say he could call at my office Sunday morning at 11. As he did.
He was pleasant, disappointed because I couldn't have arranged a lecture
at Yale (the Irish poets like the British have caught on the fruits of the
lecture tour). So the rest of the morning went.

I have opened the slipcase for the ms of January you are
giving Helen. It is a rich deep blue and I hope she will like it. But
big like an art book. I will carry it to her when I next go to New
York. John Maggs sent it up by some one from Yale he had met in New
York. I haven't heard from him. But I realise that he came over for the
first of the Streeter auctions of books. When we were in London, he asked
me if he should come for it. I said yes, he ought to be seen even tho
he didn't bid. In that sense I'm glad he came. Perhaps Maggs is, as your
informant thought, picking up, for they bought the most expense book at
the recent Beckford sale at Sotheby's: £10,000 for the dedication copy of
a Canaletto from Beckford's library at Fonthill.

Soon we will be having reviews of your book. As I remember it
is published later this week, but it may be next week. Marianne's new book
was reviewed by a poet, John Ashberry, in this week's World Journal Tribune.
The review begins, "Marianne Moore is, with the possible exception of Pound
and Auden, the greatest living poet in English." I don't see how she can
hope for more, except possibly the quick demise of Pound and Auden.

I don't think I told you, but Sylvia Townsend Warner has unex-
pectedly sent me a great batch of letters from George Plank, his last ones to
her. This was, I thought, most generous and kind.

Two yellowbacks came earlier in the week. Chester Page seemed to
have fun meeting or seeing Horowitz. I am glad he keeps on as cavalier servante
for M.M. # Lotte Reiniger's sihouetted monster for your birthday was charming.
She does have a gift. # Have not had time yet to get in touch with the I.A.
Richards at Wesleyan, but had your book sent to them there. # A nice letter from
Mildred Brown. I still haven't written her but will send a January when my extra
copies come. # Will you be seeing Wendy soon and hear about her Turkish trip?

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

It might be fun. # How long ago the late-August letter from Patrick seems.
The Irish potter plans to see him tomorrow.

Earlier in the week the Librarian from Indiana who has the huge Henty
Collection came in with two young men he is training as librarians. He was
much impressed by the totality of Dusty Diamonds. I just bought a third volume
of Union Jack, Henty's magazine. We now lack only one volume for a complete
set. But our other lacunae still yawn. Still, we are better than the optimistically
described collection advertised in the NYTimes.

You will soon be plunged into conferences with M. Coigny. I wonder what
their opinion will be towards the American market. Here things appear to have
steadied, and people are again reinvesting in selected common stocks. The choices
seem to be very much in line with what I told Beney I myself should prefer; that
is, benefit from technological trends. They should grow the fastest. But this is
after all only talk from me, since I am hardly in a position to know anything.

We had a dreadful drive out the Bowl yesterday, with the Olds balking like
an old mule and stalling every time I stopped the car in the mile long lines.
I will take it back a third time tomorrow to see if they can't get at the root
of the trouble. If this doesn't work I probably will have to think about a new
car now rather than in the spring. If you are still agreeable, I'll take the
money from the savings account.

Must dash this to the corner to catch the Sunday pickup. All love,

31 October 1966

Dearest Fido,

I begin by enclosing the Henty clipping I forgot to send yesterday. Next I report that yesterday perhaps caused my numbness by being the (in Oct.) coldest day (highest: 360 F) since 1879. When I woke this morning it was 280 and in the back yard we had had an icestorm. The sprinkling system for the lawn had been on since midnight, throwing streams of water over grass and trees, which froze at the moment it hit. I am sure that was the earliest icestorm since 0089.

Today was a postal mardi gras for me, with four from you. The 26th, two for the 27th and the 28th. I answer them en masse. Was sorry about your being troubled for photographs. The reason of course was that no magazine of national circulation wants to use a photograph which has been distributed by the publisher; it wants one exclusively its own. This is one reason Helen and I keep after you for more, and different ones. One slight disadvantage of Islay's are that they mostly move you only to another corner of the terrace. News Week know who Harcourt's are, of course; they simply gave a commission to your contact who tried to carry it out. Be nice to such people when you can, for Helen's sake, because a review in *Newsweek* would have helped sell the book with a good push. But I do agree it is hard to have one's privacy invaded, especially just as one returns.

Joan does very much appreciate your help, but I agree with you that you ought not to be a surrogate analyst for her. Analysts are for analysands and patients to turn against, and you don't want that from her. One can't really expect mothers or fathers even to become wise old friends. In the end I think Joan may well affirm her new identity by taking out Swiss papers.

Thank you so much for arranging all about Miss Bowra. I think it altogether likely that her memory is going. Having to take care of my Alice really kept her going. Now there is nothing for her to do but rock. So I am all the more grateful that she can have t.v. to rock to, or in front of.

Alan's somewhat lethargic reaction to the university comes I suspect from what Ronnie understands as his immaturity. Mostly Allen has had his decisions made for him, and it is still easier to operate on this basis. I doubt that this has really been a jolt, but I am sure it will help him grow up a little more even though he may not want to. But this sounds too severe. If one wants to be a farmer as his elder brother does this is easy to know. For some one like Alan, the future (especially in today's world) must seem unfathomably foggy.

As to the bookcase, my own reaction would probably be to build the new cases in order to make the maximum use of the space where they will go. But of course having them shipped means one doesn't have to fool with carpenters, and not to wait is a blessing.

Not so sure about the silver dressing table set not being Pup's line. I don't think she's ever had the chance to have such things. She's a

1 November 1966

Dearest Fido,

It was fortunate I left off yesterday when I did. Nuzzo's, where you have gone with me for vegetables and groceries, had closed early because of Halloween, but the clerks were still sweeping and, since I was not after trick or treat they let me in for the oranges and grapefruit to make breakfast possible.

After the dinner dishes and the interminable going to the front door with bowls of candy for the costumed witches and goblins I dozed a little, read some offprints that had been sent me, and then celebrated by watching the first half of a professional football game on t.v.

This meeting began with a two-hour session with a special committee organized to go over Yale's programs in the arts and humanities. The group was an interesting one: MacLeish, Thornton Wilder's brother (a theologian), Barbara Tuchman (who wrote The Guns of August), Ben Shawn the artist, and an Aline Saarinen who writes on architecture. 'Interesting, but it killed the morning.'

Then at noon I finally took to lunch (at the Lawn Club) a young graduate student named Blum, the daughter of a deceased man who worked for me as #2 in London during the war. She wanted to know about him.

The afternoon went to appointments and then to the meeting of the English Department to vote on recommendations for degrees. But when the name of the man whose dissertation I had read was read and approved I decamped to work at my desk and write you.

Sachie's letter truly depressed me. It's really in a state of depression, and not just Osbert's naming of his boy friend as literary executor causes it. It's the case of the younger sibling with no pyramid any longer above him. He is caught between two generations, and squeezed. Probably you would do him much good if you could make a point of seeing him occasionally when you are in England. Georgia must be deeply upset by all this, and feel a little helpless.

I think science fiction is made to order for Cousin Jack, just what he needs to take himself into space. How wonderful of you to have found a virgin to lead. Sometime you must give me the list of morceaux choisis you are sending him. But perhaps it is better to guide him slowly into this secret vice.

I did not perhaps write you that part of Sunday afternoon went into writing the New York lawyers about the Close Up episode. I shall be interested to know what they discover. Kenneth seems more debonair about it than I should have thought, but I suspect he has the fortunate good nature which can closet off the past when he chooses to. It is an enviable quality.

Pup's visit should be fun. Do pop with Pup to Zurich. # I can see you are in Quayle's good graces, since he has not written me after saying how hurt he was at what he called my "rebuff" in not visiting him for overnight when we

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NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

2 November 1966

Dearest Fido,

This has been one of the days to try the soul of a saint. Alas,
I'm not one. I began by having a doctor's appointment at 8:30 so as to get a
good day's work in. I had to wait so that it was a quarter past nine before I
was through. Then I took Susan's car back home so as to go by cab to the garage
to pick up my own. I waited some forty minutes for the cab to arrive after I
had been told they would rush it. At the garage I again had to wait. I stopped
at the Co-op for a book and the morning was gone. It had been sprinkling in the
morning, so I carefully wore my raincoat. It was clear when I had to go to the
Faculty Club some four blocks off to interview a candidate, at lunch, for a
post in the English Department. When I came out from lunch it was raining, and
I was coatless. Posters for the lecture by Archibald MacLeish next Monday were
to have been done by mid-afternoon. They were not ready until five, and so
(all secretaries and help being gone) I had to try toudge again through the rain
to fetch them, stuff them in envelopes, and tonight I must take them to the
main post office to mail. Tonight the Master's secretary at Jonathan Edwards
College, where I am a Fellow is giving a poetry reading from her first, just
published book. Etiquette demands I go, though I should much prefer to slip
down a crack and retire.

But at least your letters of the 30th and 31st arrived, one in
the morning, the other at night, to console me. We feel the same about the
Hotsons, but I fear there is nothing we can do. One could never get him to a
doctor, for he would no more alter his self portrait than he would the miniature
of Shakespeare. # I wish I had sent back one of my portables with you, and
would bring one with me in the spring if it were not, as you say, that a
typewriter is a part of one's self and therefore should be bought by one's self
only. # Glad to get the postal numbers straight, for I was surprised when you
put it backwards. # Blake must jiggle; I wonder if he will be drinking tea or
whiskey now with Philby. # Good idea I should think to take the washbasin out
of the little dining room, though it gave a nice Indian touch. I remember there
how there were always wash basins in the dining room so that one could rinse
between courses. # I too find the Yale Review gray, though I suggested it to the
Addisses as a last year's Christmas present, having a guilty feeling because I
didn't subscribe. But oh dear. I will go over the list of books tomorrow. #
Very interesting that the Schaffners should be thinking of this particular house
to buy; it is or was the home of the parents of Angus Fletcher, a former student
of mine, a kind of poet slightly beatnik who is now a professor of English at
Columbia. His father was Sir something or other and was for many years Consul
General in New York. I do think it is primarily important for each child to have
a room to itself. # Ypur first talks about W seemed to clear up the ground if not
settle the grade. The present investment policies at least seem sensible. At
last reports my local holdings in the States were off at least 10%. # Must rush
now and prepare for the poetry reading.

3 November 1966

Dearest Fido,

It was pouring when I left this morning, but, oh joy, because of the rain the long-delayed painters could not work outdoors and so graciously came to do the new garage steps and the drawers for the eskimo carvings. I suppose they will have to come again, and this will take an equally long interval but I must say I look forward to the chance of putting the ivories on their scarlet felt bed.

I forgot to say yesterday that Horace had phoned earlier in the day. He sounded a little sober at first but warmed up as he got on literary topics and was vocally spry before we finished. He had had flu, he said, but was recovering and was at his typewriter again, finishing an anthology of Byron's poems, mostly *Don Juan* and Byron's letters about it. I do think this his best poem, but sometimes wonder if (that being so) one isn't better advised to print the whole thing and advise as to parts if people won't read all. Selections as such have more to do with sifting the better shorter poems out of the conglomerate mass. Pat had told him of my review of the Stevens letters, which is in next Sunday's *Times*, and he had read the book but found Stevens' letters terribly sad, the expressions of an unhappy life. And I suppose in one sense Horace has had a truly happy life -- not physically but in the little world he and Marya have devised. What pleased me most, and him too of course, was that he could use the typewriter. And he hopes to have his nurse drive him into New York so that he can see the show of Sisley's paintings at one of the galleries. He wants to do that more than anything else. I hope he can. Somehow I have come to feel that his new and future plateau will be a little lower than even when he left Gaylord. But at least he is alive.

I have had a letter from the New York lawyers asking about the copyright of *Close Up*, whether it was in order and how it was recorded. I looked at our copies here and saw that it was copyright by Pool. Presumably this was in England and so it still stands for there. But who precisely owned and now owns Pool. I shall have to tell him that. You and Kenneth? Or you? Or Kenneth? Could you let me know about this as soon as possible so I can keep the legal motors reving?

I do not have the original document for Winson here at the office at any rate, but will go to the safe deposit vault at the bank and see if it is with my other papers there. I had thought it was left in Switzerland with Beney. But it may not be. It will not take too much time to search the box, so although you will be searching, so will I.

Actually we don't know that we will even have the chance to buy the woodland at the shore. But a neighbor who is a friend of the owner is negotiating for us. The price therefore remains uncertain, as would my share of it. Susan's two sisters have volunteered to come in for part if the chance should arise and the need be present too. All depends. But with your consent I should not be unwilling to turn to W as I did for the Brattahlid gift. If I should have a leave of absence next year, it will almost certainly be without salary from Yale and I would have to make up from W. But the relief from duty

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

and the chance to clear up some of the backlog on Hawthorne would be worth
the $15,000 Yale pays me.

I went to the Co-op this noon and ordered the two books you wanted.
That from the Yale Press I had already ordered, but despite the ad it has
not yet been actually published. There is no need for money, you have
riches of credit at the Co-op still.

My packet of _Januaries_ came yesterday, so although Horace still
had not had his I hope the others will be getting theirs soon. I mailed
off your Thompson (Virgil) to you, not having read it but not being likely
to for a bit. And to Mildred Brown I sent a copy of _Artemis_ because of
your life and Hilda's; and finally did send a _Tribute to Freud_ because
there is so much about Philadelphia and the observatory contained.

I finished this morning reading a manuscript on Thornton Wilder
and returned it to the publisher. It was originally a dissertation done
under my direction, and I hope Wesleyan Press will bring it out. His long
new novel is finished and will be out in April. The Book of the Month
Club took it, the Literary Guild wanted it, and because it is fat I suppose
it will sell like ships to fools. Still, as I told you I liked the parts
he read, though I was mostly struck by the power of his acting as he gave
it to us.

Last night I went to the poetry reading, but Susan stayed comfortably at home rather than risk the rain. Somehow I seem to have exchanged my coat for another's. How will I untangle? Tonight is a symphony concert and I take Susan duttfly though I would as soon start the next dissertation whose manuscript is at hand. But this has not yet been submitted, so it will require closer attention.

Many thanks for this stamp in yr today's as of the 1st.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

4 November 1966

Dearest Fido,

Well, here is the first of them. And if the rest are as good we can toss our hats into the air. It is from next Sunday's Pots Tribune. I don't know whether or not the Times will have one immediately, not getting that in advance. But perhaps it won't, since when Horace spoke of my Stevens review on Sunday he didn't mention that Pat had mentioned one of *January*. Mary Renault will never speak to you now, with your book taking precedence over hers.

The bill for the complimentary copies sent by you came in today's mail also. It amounted to $159.00 which I will pay and then withdraw from the savings account where the royalty checks. I went to the savings bank today and deposited your last royalty check for 178.62. With that and your last dividend of 134.60 the total is now 12,932.53. So if Elsie needs more for her refurbishing or you have to fly into sudden exile you will have a cushion for either.

I made the trip actually to explore the safety deposit box for the missing W document, but stupidly took the wrong key and so could not follow through when the bank attendant opened his half of the lock. I will try again on Monday. I apologize.

Your letter of the 2nd came in the late afternoon mail. Many thanks for the Blake clipping from the Times. Interesting how they seem to regard it all as something of a frolic. And you notice that not once is it even hinted that the Russians may have had something to do with it. Perhaps they are right: perhaps it really all was planned by strong village (prison) loyalties, and then when Blake had escaped someone may quite casually have suggested a holiday in Russia before he could return to work for the British Intelligence again.

I enclose a second clipping which may in fact be related to Blake, since everything is so hush hush about it.

I really am sorry about Marie Anne. I fear she is having a prolonged after-shock, a state which is not at all unusual in incidents like hers. One simply can't knock a person about in this way, without having injuries to the system as well as the bones or organs. It will be a long pull back for her.

I put Susan on the nine o'clock train this morning for New York and her hairdresser, and she was excited as a child going to her own birthday party. It is the first time since mid-August, for she had to cancel her appointment scheduled for three days after the accident.

The stairs to the garage were painted when I got home last night, and so were the cases for the carvings. The house smells a little from them, but I long for them both to be dry, the one to step on, the other to stuff. I wish you were here to be able to share in both.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

5 November 1966

Dearest Fido,

Having just finished the magic number of thirty letters today
(my desk will look a little bit better), I stop in order to write you. I
have just received a printed form mailed to "Dear Who's Who Biographee"
which begins, "As one whose life and achievements are recounted in Who's Who
in America you already have a permanent place in the history of our country."
This is comforting, but I really think that, if I go down in history at all,
it will be as the greatest contributor to the Post Office.

Fortunately the incoming mail today was slight, though less
pleasant because there was nothing from you. However, yesterday there did
come the paperback *Leather Boys*, and I am eager to read about Granny Wilberstone.
If I learn to drive a motorbike will you hike up behind me and hold my hips?

A letter came from the young Hungarian, now a Swiss citizen, who
met Hilda and wrote about the early poems of Pound. Now he has finished the
second and concluding volume on Pound's early poetry and it has been published
in asel. deNagy. He says it is dedicated to me in memory of Hilda. This
sounds convoluted but pleasant.

I have no further review of *January* to send -- it comes out on the
9th -- but I thought you might be interested in the review I wrote on Stevens'
letters, since you were here when I began reading them. The review is a little
stiff, like most of my writing, but then so am I.

A royalty check for 158.94 came in from Grove for Hilda's books.
295 copies of Selected Poems in the last six months. Of Bid Me to Live, 69
copies domestically, and 77 foreign sales. Of Helen, 59 domestic and 12
foreign sales. I will deposit the check to her savings account at the first
of the week.

I went yesterday to pick up some newly framed pictures, and these
were hung this morning. At least, two of them were: a Japanese print in the
donwstairs wash room; a drawing by John T rumbull, Susan's early relative,
of the Death of General Warren at Bunker Hill, in the upstairs guest room.
The third was a largish thing by Vachel Lindsay which goes into storage in
the Art for the Wrong Reason Collection.

Last night I went to a party for Lehman-Haupt who has just
published a new book on Guttenberg, with the Yale Press, and then picked
up a newly coiffeured Susan at the station. We spent the night at home,
and I slept during a t.v. performance of Danny Kaye in a film on Hans
Christian Andersen.

Tonight we go to the Symphony Ball.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

6 November 1966

Dearest Fido,

My Puritan ancestors will rise up and smite me. For we
danced at the Symphony Orchestra Ball until after one, and then invited
our hosts at cocktails before dinner to the house for a nightcap, and
it was after two before we retired. As a result it was after 11 when
I reached the office this morning. But Susan did have a good time,
went without her sling and bandage, and wore a new evening gown she
bought last year but had never had on. The ball was in the new New
Haven hotel which has just opened, and we were all curious to see
the ballroom, even to go inside the hotel. We will have to show you
the view from the lounge at the top.

I think I have forgotten to tell you that Susan has worn
the brooch you gave her on several occasions, usually against a solid
black dress as a background. It really is handsome, and she adores it
not the least because it came from you. And as she was allowed to dis-
card the heavy canvas sling which held the cast, but still needed a
sling she has been appearing like a gay advertisement for Grieders,
using your scarves.

I still plug away at the desk, but will have to take time
off this afternoon to rake up the leaves, or perhaps shovel them since
they are soaking wet, from in front of the garage. I thought the gardeners
were coming yesterday to do this but they did not appear. We were threat-
ened with snow last night but it proved to be only heavy rains. But I
was alarmed this morning to read of the floods at Florence, and wondered
if the boys had to take to rafts. And you and Elsie? Did you shiver with
cold in snow? You seem to have been having a wretched season.

I did not hear the football game yesterday of course, being
at my desk, but Yale managed to win from Pennsylvania in a Philadelphia
played game, by scoring a field goal in the last 20 second of play. Prince-
ton managed to come from behind to beat Harvard in the last quarter, so
next week's Yale game with Princeton looks like another defeat. I am taking
Justus, who was a little disappointed that his grandmother was going too.
I think he likes once in a while to be only with me.

Have just had a first of Kingston's *Kidnapping in the Pacific*
(1879) offered me by a dealer in Sheffield, Mass. He has dug up four or
five items for me in the last months. No one of them is for very much (this
is 12.50) but his practise is a good example of what Maggs doesn't do to
soften me up for some much bigger sale.

I shall have to be doing my homework during the next week, in

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

6 November 1966

Dearest Fido,

I really hadn't intended to write you twice in a day, at least not today when so little happens. But in keeping on at my desk I see that I did not perhaps report the arrival of a "yellow" back from London, with my letters to you there in it. Also one from Sachie, another evidence of how much your friendship means to him just now. And what a warm letter from Helen as she picked up the first copy of *January*!

As I went on with my deskcleaning I found, and have thanked for, the newest number of *Tennessee Studies in English* which they have been sending me since the series began. It is so packed with articles on the Morte d'Arthur and especially on Beowulf, that I am sending it on to you for winter's reading. You would otherwise have to wait too long for Horsessin Beowulf, and the account of the wild party at Heorot. If the volume is useful for you to keep with your things on the period, do so. Otherwise send it back sometime and I will put it with the rest of the set. I have not tried to read it, and will not. You are my girl for that.

The University of Southern Illinois Press wants to reprint *Palimpsest*. So I have written Colgate University to find out whether they have given up their plan to do so. Have heard nothing from them for a long time, and think it better to get the book back in print than just to wait.

I was a good boy and raked up the leaves at lunch time.
My, it was cold.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

7 November 1966

Dearest Fido,

Your letter of the 3rd, with the news of Josecyln's death, was
in the early morning mail. I am really shocked and disturbed, perhaps because
it was so completely unexpected and but at least partly I think because he
was so almost precisely my own age. I chided him sometimes because of the
way he fitted himself into his own nest, but in certain ways I envied him
the ability to do so. I see now that he made his literary appearance late.
What did he do during all those years between not finishing Oxford (why?)
and his Devember Spring and his military orchid. But the orchid really was
a rare one after all; it took searching to find as he must have sought and
at last dared to find himself. You helped him to keep himself; I don't
think he wanted any more than that. What hidden fetishes will they find
underneath his handkerchiefs. But perhaps he didn't need even a fetish.
I don't know that he really needed his mother very much--she simply was
there for a long time. He hardly even needed friends, though he obviously
had them, and his letters to me always had the sort of charm that makes
friendship desirable. I was glad to have known him; he made a little
niche, but a real one, for his memory.

Your letters of the 4th and 5th came this afternoon. I wrote
yesterday about Florence and the flooded boys. I had not thought of Pup
swimming for the river banks. Naturally I hope she wasn't really in it,
but what an experience to tell about it afterwards. I wonder when she will
have reached you, and if she will not after all have had to go to Rome and
fly from thence to Switzerland. I shall be eager to know.

You are kind about the new car, but actually this last repair
job seems to have made the motor purr. Even Susan was amazed, and so long
as it continues this way I think it is still much better to wait until at
least next spring rather than subject a new car to a freezing and sleety
car pack all winter. After all it's only six years old, and I have no chauffeur
to shame.

I shall be interested in your talk with Ruegg, but agree with
Coigny that there have been no real changes in the financial situation thus
far. My guess for the American election tomorrow is that a certain number
of congressional seats will inevitably be regained by the Republicans but
the general situation will remain much the same. With the elections out of
the way, it will be interesting to see what the administration will do about
raising the income tax or the war. Johnson's projected operations are, I
should think, at least partly to keep him from taking part in the elections.
Poor man, he's deep in the bust of Texas.

I am sure Miss Warner would like nothing better than a letter from
you. But better let me write her first so that yours won't seem to be a substi-
tute.

2

I didn't mean to scold about News Week. I meant simply to explain why they hadn't wanted to go to Helen. But Helen is the judge, and I am glad she gave you her blessing. I sent you, as you saw, the review in the Tribune. It has an excellent circulation in Washington and Chicago, so I was delighted. In New York it is not so powerful as the Times, but does very much help. Anyhow you already have your loyal audience.

I like you and the idea of you in Petrie's blue and lilac hat, though it seems strangely unfishermanlike. You will have to give me a modeling.

Alene Saarinen is the daughter-in-law of the Finnish Saarinen whose rr station you liked, and the second wife of the equally famous son who went to the Yale architecture school and designed so many of the newer important American buildings. Tuchman was nice, we had a long talk together as we walked from the coffe klatsch to the Hall of Graduate Studies. She had been a reporter and had that combination of confidence and ease.

Most curious about Kenneth and Close Up; but I think he has (ever since the war) much more enjoyed the role of gentleman prince. He likes doing and having done things easily, and if he works hard at novel writing it must be behind curtains. Close Up was before graduation, I guess. Obviously he is much relieved that the Mama goes. And their trip around the world will be all the gayer in consequence.

All love,

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

6 February 1967

Dearest Fido,

Awoke this morning to find snow drifted in the window, still falling, and the landscape white. It was slippery too, and it was hard to find time to tie one's tie and tear one's self from the window and watching the cars helterskelter on Goodrich Street. They slid in such a way as to block all other cars; then of course more slid and the confusion mounted. Fortunately by the time I was ready to go to the hospital for my breathing tests, at least the entrance to the driveway was free. I made my own sliding path down to the foot of the hill, and then all was well.

The tests were new to me. I was given a mouthpiece, my nose was pinched by a wire clothespin, I was asked to breathe normally while the pen made lovely graphs on the recorder, and then my artery was tapped at the elbow and I was bled while they recorded the reaction of my lungs and heart to compensate for the loss of blood and oxygen. It was rather medieval, and all that was lacking was a lie detector.

That finally finished, along with other tests, I stopped by the typewriter shop to inquire and order. I only inquired, realising that I still had a question or two to ask of you. My man, on whom I rely, was firm in saying that if you wanted the small light travelling portable (is it 7 lbs), far and away the best is the Underwood Olivetti. Olivetti bought the Underwood company and all portable (small) models for them as well as for Smith Corona are made abroad and shipped here. If however you want the standard portable (weight 15 lbs) the Classic Corono is the best. I can bring either kind, though I have an extra Olivetti of the light kind if you want that, or prefer to buy abroad. My idea was that the heavier model held the table better; he didn't think so. If you plan to carry yours much on the plane you may prefer the lighter model. If not I will bring the Corona.

The rest of my day has been spent mapping out the graduate school catalogue for next year. I began it wrong, was constantly interrupted, and so finally swallowed a tranquilizer and ordered my inner door nailed fast against intruders. Mrs Sherman now has it to make a first draft. I can correct tomorrow.

Three letters came from you: 2nd, 3rd, and 4th (At that moment a telephone call from the station, from my cousin Nate--who handles the Mellon money--saying he was in town and would be free between six and seven; but, alas, I have to go to an early dinner party for Louis Auchincloss who I am to introduce tonight when he lectures). One really should have rescued Victoria's muffs. Lily Langtree's letters from Edward VII were sold last Friday in New York; I suppose she too was a muff of a sort. #Are people grateful for my work? I rather doubt it. But my conscience applauds, and like an actor I sometimes think I play for the applause even of myself. # Islay's letter was encouraging to read. I think the idea of March at rest is an excellent one. The idleness will be good for Kenneth, and the weather will be warmer when he returns to the palazzo. # Ypu rescure

so many! Is the great-nephew of Mrs Macp the actor? But how lucky
that in the end you really didn't have to be rescued yourself for the
400 francs. # As to the Mrs Bergman I shall wait to hear what you hear
from Pokross. He may not be enthusiastic because the B is only a lay
analyst. # I blush with the shame of it. I have just looked up placque
and find it is plaque without even the suggestion of a variant. As Dr.
Johnson would say, "Ignorance, Madam, pure ignorance!" #Am not worried
at your not liking Firedrake; it was only for the curiosity of it, for
you to see what you spawn. I shall not read it, and had no intention to.
Renault of course is an old pro. # And thank you for writing Barsis.
I shall drop him a note before we go. Sometimes I wonder if we ever will.
#Am much fascinated by your letter from Cox; he could be great fun as
a correspondent and would have his own special well of knowledge. But, oh,
spare us his 90 books.

Now I must begin to think what I can say tonight on the platform.

8 February 1967

Dearest Fido,

There was no letter to you yesterday. We were blizzarded
inside by what proved in the end to be a foot of snow on the level and
much higher where the wind swooped. As a result I missed my dentist,
and thus kept him longer from going off to Acapulco. This morning
when I finally got here after the chiropodist, having to leave the
car at some distance at my filling station for lack of space at Yale--
the plowing being so poor --I had to dig in and finish the preparation of
next year's graduate school catalogue. I sneaked out for a quick
lunch, came back to explain the copy to Mrs Sherman, and have time only
for this brief note before starting for Hartford and a special meeting
of the planning committee of the Mark Twain Memorial.

Far too brief, but no less love for all that.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

9 February 1967

Dearest Fido,

This has been rather a crazy week. God was crazy with
his blizzards, and everyone has responded with complete affinity.
Monday, as I told you, began with heavy snows but I still managed
to get to the hospital for my bleeding and breathing. Fortunately
by evening the snow had let up so that I could bring Susan down
for dinner with Louis Auchincloss and the evening at which he spoke
on Edith Wharton. Quite miraculously -- for it was forbidden to
park on the streets -- there was a large audience of people like
myself who had done just that. My introduction seemed to be all
right, and I relaxed enough to fall asleep during a good part of
his talk; but I had slipped back in among the audience and was
not a conspicuous dozer. Everyone liked what he said, and the
applause woke me in time to go up to congratulate him. There was
a reception afterwards, and we were home again without mishap.

By morning the blizzard was all full force, but since
I had an important dentist appointment I called him and arranged
to fare forth. But before I could go he had been to his garage
and came back to phone me not to venture out until he had intended
to return to the house rather than the office, so I stayed put. I
had the bound galleys of a book on Scott Fitzgerald I was supposed
to blurb, and when the day was done had finished it. I had also
tidied up parts of the cellar, and with Susan worked over the eskimo
artifacts so that all harpoon heads were together, all women's knives
similarly order, and the drawers for the first time as they should
have been. The wind howled and the snow drifted, and by noon I
could have neither gotten in nor out of the garage. But by eleven
at night the storm had stopped, and at eleven-thirty my man came to
plow out the driveway. At 7 the next morning he was back again with
his force of shovelers and the sidewalks were done too. Susan had
a luncheon appointment with her college roommate in New York and
actually went in for it, although the streets in the city were hardly
plowed and she walked from Grand Central to the Waldorf. I went to
my chiropodist, without incident, but could find no place to park
downtown. Cars had been abandoned so as to block entrances to streets,
or been snowed in so that the plows could not operate around them. My
filling station man kindly took me in, since I needed gas, and I picked
the car up after luncheon when I drove to Hartford for a meeting of the
Mark Twain Memorial Planning Committee. The highway had been plowed
and had melted (the temperature was 40F in the morning, but the sun was
bright and the surface blacktopped, and neither my ride up nor bac k
had incidents. But three cars had hurled themselves off the highway
the night before and were reminders as to the advantages of staying at
home.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

There has been no letter from you since the 5th, and I imagine
there will be further delays because of the cancellation of flights
from Europe into eastern airports. That, of the 5th did of course
please me, because you were back at the emoirs. No one will worry,
however, because your style is colloquial. This is as it should be
for a book of this sort. I certainly trust your instinct, and you
even more so ought to. I shall almost inevitably growl once or twice,
but this is nothing more than a lion's prelude to a love bite.

One is fascinated daily by the reports from China and the likeli-
hood of a diplomatic break between them and Russia. It is also barely
possible I suppose that this may have its effect on the Vietnamese
War. At least the South Asian attitude towards China will be some-
what altered.

As to Cox, I don't know what to say. He really goes farther
towards the present than our original dimensions, and basically my
idea is to keep the focus on the historical juveniles as a genre in
themselves. On the other hand, if you want to help him out, and
he wants to assemble a complete collection, I suppose one could
argue that completeness in anything is valuable. I certainly
wouldn't do it unless his set of the Boy's Own came with it. He
might be fun for you as a contact in London, though your days
there are usually crammed as it now stands.

My graduate school catalogue is now finished, and my next jobs
are to do the recommendations for fellowship awards and the selection
of the ten new candidates to be admitted next Fall. AND, though I
am not quite sure HOW, I must prepare my address to be given at the
University of Wisconsin next Wednesday. I fly out on Tuesday like
a Valentine angel. I send my arrow towards your own heart now, with

all love,

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

10 February 1967

Dearest Fido,

We awoke this morning to still another snowfall, and poor Susan had visions of another awful day in the city -- this time for her hair. But by midmorning it had stopped, and by noon had melted except for where it covers the fifth of the earlier fall. The roads are still rutted, and the drifts push out into the roads to narrow the lanes impossibly. Still, they have not bothered me; I have spent a dreary day locked to my desk while I went through application after application for admission. They are all so worthy, all will be disappointed, and the criteria so hard to assess. Fortunately others will share in the final decisions, but the screening process is mine. Three or four applicants stand out; they of course console me.

So did your letter of the 6th. Mail after mail was delivered with nothing from you, as it had been yesterday. In late afternoon one did. I was immensely pleased of course to know that Ilay at last felt free to visit a temple. He needs the change. I hope there were temple boys to dance for him.

It does sound as though your letter had been a stimulus to the Arts Council and to Authors. White's dignity will of course have suffered. He fancies himself on a judge's bench, wearing a white beard. You made him into a publisher's pratboy. Actually you may have done your job so well that they may feel you needn't make the special trip to see Abercrombie, but it would be fun to go if they do want you.

Am delighted that *Best Mate* pleased. I have just had sent on to you a new Yale French book on *Restif*. And yesterday I mailed a copy of the *Burrow's* book on *Sir Gawain*. They will presumably arrive just about as I do.

I forgot to say that when *Valentine* was studying *Beowulf*, they were given the record to listen to in class. He did not seem interested in having another copy: *Beowulf* loses to *Beethoven!* I asked him on the last Saturday's visit.

Do forgive this letter. It is really an application for admission to your forgiveness. This is the other kind of Valentine plea.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

11 February 1967

Dearest Fido,

Life has no chiaruscuro when one spend the day in checking
applications. And the clock of one's energy runs down, I find. Today,
I got through my quota of 20 easily in the morning; but in the afternoon
I finished only 10 before Dick Lewis came to pick up what I had done
and give them a second run-through. So I must do 20 at home tonight,
or there will be no time tomorrow for household work at the desk, and
beginning my preparations for my talk on Wednesday in Wisconsin.

Last night we braved the slush and went to the Art Gallery
for a benefit string quartet recital, all in the cause of restoring
Florentine art so that the price of each ticket cost as much as a
fund-raising dinner for the Republican party. Duly I black-tied,
was careful to be seen by the right people after the music, and then
went home, both of us gladly, to sit and read the papers.

Your two letters of the 7th and 8th arrived, so the postal
effects of the blizzard now seem over. But alas that my letters to you
bunch so. I wonder at which end of the flight the fault is?

Elsie pays the highest compliment in being happy at our
coming, and balances our own pleasure in being not only with you but
with her. We enjoy her stories and her laughter and her kindness
and her superb food. Why shouldn't we? They all demand enjoyment.
I suspect however that you are right in feeling that she feels that
guests like the Goughs perhaps ignore her a little being so eager to
see and be with you. Which is too bad, for she is very much a genuine
hostess.

You must not ask me to risk my life by going to the <u>fondue</u>
without Susan. My heart would be cut out on my return, even if only the
dullest knife was available. Like Elsie, Susan is an artist in the kitchen
herself, and like a good artist enjoys nothing more than good art by
others. She will be thrilled at the propsect. And we both love all
cheeses, except that I (unfortunately) have never been so keen about
what we call cottage cheese. Susan however adores it.

Highly sensible of you to ward off the Goughs this time.
You need a chance to breathe peacefully.

Poor Tigerli. Perhaps she was not amenable to the approaches
of a rapist. She may have figured in a Swiss equivalent of Petrie's
Irish drama. I was amazed that, with your sense of myth in action, you
should not have understood what went on at Ballinamona. "Hungry swans"
driven off by another swan? There are many kinds of swans, and even
Irish Ledas. One strong swan drives off the others; they in turn chase
of bullocks in order to possess Europa as a substitute Leda. My dear,
I shall have to begin tutoring you all over again.

My love, as always, Noman

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

12 February 1967

Dearest Fido,

I slogged faithfully last night at home, until a little after
midnite, and managed to finish the first screening of the 120 (not 130)
applicants for admission in the fall. I've gotten the list down to about
20 from which to pick 10-14, with a large pile of possibilities whom others
might add to the 1st list. This morning I took the remainder to Lewis and
he will be working on them now, I hope. The process is complicated some-
what by my leaving on Tuesday for Wisconsin, not to return until Thursday
night. Duty should have kept me here.

This morning I began manfully to pay bills, and do general
housecleaning on my desk. I've managed a good deal so far, even though,
after lunch, I took Susan to the N.H. Colony Historical Society to look
at the show of New Haven colonial silversmiths. At the vernissage the
place was so crowded we could see nothing. It was worth a return, a very
good show indeed.

To go back to your letters of the 7th and 8th, I did indeed
receive the Wace, and am sure I acknowledged it. Anyway it is here and
was gratefully received. I am only surprised that Maggs' records didn't
indicate they had sold one to you. As to the Greenland map, the British
experts are said to look forward to scalping the interpreters of the
script of the map. But we shall see when they have seen.

I did not properly squeal at your last batch of clippings.
Sir Herbert's letter was interesting to read. I have not seen him in the
past three or four years but always got on well with him. And it was rather
sporting og Kingsley Amis and the others to reaffirm their backing. One
wonders if perhaps there may not actually be something astir towards a
settlement of the war. The captain's tattoo intrigued me, and oh what a
voyeur I should be if given the chance to see a hunting scene tattooed
anywhere on a human body, a captain's or a queen's. What an artistic challenge
various parts of the body would be to the tattooer ready to record a hunt.
Let us both go to Singapore, and then compare results.

A yellowback brought me pleasure. One's mind boggles at the thought
of the ex Summerfield boys and masters together in the Holy Land. I do hope it
comes off, for Mervyn's sake. He would be a first-class tourmaster. # I was
interested that the Goughs still have the States in mind. But I wonder if he
ever could have quite the cake of a post on this side and regular trips back to
Turkey. I liked the tale of Mellaert, but thought he was now well out of the
pciture. # Elisabeth's letter was sweet, but like Justis she does not seem to
be ahead of her age in writing or spelling. Valentine's letter on the other hand
was remarkably mature for a boy of his age, and Nikky too writes a good one. On
the whole I think a little better than Alan's, even considering the difference in
age. # I don't think I know Charles Causley's poetry, tho why should I. At any
rate the award continues to be an imaginative one, much better than the Council
would give. # Marianne's letters continue to be pathetic. She cannot be growing

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

any stronger. # Georgia's letter seemed more hopeful. I am glad you have given them the chance of a little holiday. This week's life has two pictures of her at some London hostess's party (an American), but she is never full face. Still, she obviously gets around in affluent (if not high) society. I was intrigued to find as another guest a Ricardo Sicre, styled "international banker." He was a Spanish Loyalist who worked for me for several years of the war in North Africa and France, a very nice person who was a friend of Robert Graves. He carried a communist card, I was told, but in recent years has been the financial strength and adviser to Franco, keeps a huge yacht, an immense house in Madrid and Switzerland, has had Ava Gardner as girl friend (she is really a communion cup), and been a miniature Greek shipowner-type.

My Dusty Diamonds dealer at last begins to be pacified. He gave me a copy of a dust-jacketed Henty (very rare as such), and in return I was to find him a run of an obscure American magazine on watercoloring and a book published on this side some years ago on the same subject. I have advertised, tried to be deep sea diver to find them, but without success. So finally I bought him a 17.50 book of illus rated water colors, by Americans. He likes it and says if I get him one or two more he will be happy. he should be.

I thought you might be interested in Pup's letters. The books I gave her were a few of the multi-copies I have. Your geography and one other of the earlier ones (she wants West and Development, and really wants them), plus your brother's and one of Kenneth's. I think she really wants to be back in the family, for the sake of being there. She is so much calmer and more poised as the children grow older, and the new house is heaven in her eyes.

All love,
Norman

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NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

13 February 1967

Dearest Fido,

Maybe there is something in Friday the 13th, tho I believe I
was 13 on a Friday the 13th. (I have never checked back). Anyhow I waked
this morning to find the right side of my face as plump as Queen Victoria's,
but aching more than I hope hers ever did. Our dentist, who had promised
several months ago to phone me for treatments when he returned to work
after breaking his leg was still abed by 8 a.m., but I managed to see him
at a quarter to ten and discovered I have an abscess with large amounts
on internal discharge which presumably has been permeating my system for
some time. Nothing can be done until the thing quiets down, so I am now
being dosed with anti-biotics until Monday morning when he will see what
can be done. He very kindly said the swelling might be diminished if I
kept applying ice packs to it. But of course there is no ice at the office
and I have had an afternoon of appointments. Fortunately we have no gala
event planned for tonight, so I can stay quietly at home. I still have my
papers to put in shape for the tax man. Recent nights I have been too tired after
dinner for anything except to doze.

Have just had a little packet of dusty diamonds in from Brimmell,
though none of spectacular interest. Except perhaps one: a shilling paperback
of 1885 by Manville Fenn, _THE DARK HOUSE: a Knot Unravelled_. This must be a
true rarity. Also an 1880 copy of Kingston's translation of Verne's _THE BEGUM'S_
_FORTUNE_, which I daresay is a Verne title you have never read. The other two
were the usual collections, one with a Kingston tale included; the other with
two by Stables. These all help but the flood of new titles has long been over.
And I have not had a new Henty to add for donkey's years.

A yellowback came today, which I shall take home for after dinner reading, but no letter. So perhaps the Saturday mail will have one after all. A letter came from David Bruce saying that he was returning the ms of Romaine's memoirs, and when he knew that she really wanted the private printing and what the cost and distribution would be he would then get in touch with Miss Barney. I rather have a hunch I shall have to go it alone, but that's all right. Today the Rare Book Ribrary got back Romaine's portrait of Carl Van Vechten which she and Natalie had given Yale. As you may remember it had been rolled and stepped on before it was sent, so the canvass was broken and the paint chipped in spots. Gallup thought Natalie B might be interested in having it repaired, or even Romaine herself, but received no answer to his inquiries. So I paid for it; it is very much in her best manner, and actually I like it better than many of her portraits. It has now been repaired and is ready to hang. So what with sending the curator of the National Collection of Fine Arts over to Nice to see her, I am trying to do my bit to make her happy. I wait now for her answer to my letter.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

13 February 1967

Dearest Fido,

I have come back to the comparative quiet of the office tonight to see if I can't begin on my talk at Wisconsin for Wednesday. The day turned out to be a series of interruptions, really until Mrs Sherman's quitting time. At the last minute came in two desperately last-minute calls for letters of recommendations: one for a student's summer fellowship at the Smithsonian; the other for a man nominated to be chairman of English in Pittsburgh. At lunch there was a long interruption while I met a Mr Prem Kirpal, Secretary of the Ministry of Education of the Government of India. He was supposed to be red carpeted but the President and most other dignitaries were out of town. I was desperately summonsed, and so cancelled my Pundit luncheon. Kirpal had been at alliol a few years after my Magdalen stay, was bald and white-headed and older looking than I fancy myself, but he did have a nice quiet manner with none of the oil or silk one sometimes associates with the Indians. Then came a meeting of the executive committee of the Connecticut Academy, before I could get back to my chores.

Just to toss two memoranda: I think I wrote you that I had shipped you Burrow's Reading og Sir Gawain as a kind of late Valentine; and had the Co-op send (ordering by phone) a study of Restif's novels by a C.A. Porter of the Yale faculty. Or perhaps he was a graduate student.

Your two letters of the 10th of course created a sensation as you knew they must. I am of course astonished. And yet I suppose there must be many instances of this sort, and the kind of secrecy in which Beney worked, and his love of the smart deal, made him a secret agent of the Lord's will. How tempting it must be for the good servant of ten talents to make himself into a banker. I imagine that on inspection the results of his investments will be shown always to have benefitted the client, but never totally -- the rest being his cut. I really do wonder what would have happened if either you or I had passed out of the picture--what would have happened then; for he did keep a wonderfully close hold on the bag. I cannot believe that W was really exempt from this, and fear mightily that you are making it up. I ought to stand my share along with the rest of you. But perhaps if I was exempt it was only because I did my share of the Lord's work in restoring the first Christian church in the Western hemisphere. I shall be eager for the details of the matter when I see you. But how really awful for Jacques and the other members of the family. Elsie's wail about lost interest was a classic.

Once back from Wisconsin I shall get at the typewriter. I shall be delighted to have its use while we are in Vienna.

What an encouraging letter from Islay.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

13 February 1967

Dearest Fido,

I can at least begin a letter to you this morning, since the
noontime and afternoon begin to appear crowded. There is just too much to
do before leaving tomorrow. And the thing I really ought to be doing --
preparing my talk--hasn't begun yet.

Your letter of the 9th was in the early post, the best thing
to happen except for my tranquilizer. What a superb letter from Miss
Renault! Kind in nature and really perceptive of what gives _January_ its
special nip. Would you like me to have a xerox copy made for you as a
consoler when your literary spirits are low? I would be tempted to send
a copy to Helen too, but fear she might be tempted into asking Miss Renault
for a blurb, as she was with Edith. And I don't think one wants a suspicion
of that sort to enter your correspondence. But I go by your advice.

Helen had a really splendid ad in yesterday's Sunday Times Book
Review, with an impressive array of quotations from reviews. The one from
the Chicago Tribune I had not seen. She doesn't automatically send them along
as she once did; but of course her own operation is bøgger than with Pantheon
and she is caught up in the wheels of a large machine. I presume she will
send the ad instanter to you, but if one doesn't come in a week let me know
and I will send the one I clipped to you.

The clock has its own nesting spot, and I agree is probably
better to stay as is. Indeed if I take a little flat as a private office
in the future it would go wonderfully there to time me. I didn't mean to
suggest you should help them financially with the furniture. They really
need to live in the house a bit before deciding what they actually need.
As to the children being careless with money, most of them are (any one's).
After all it flows out towards them without their having much sense of
source. That was always Lizzie's problem. Never having had to earn any,
actually being incapable of earning, she still has a tendency of relate the
flow to that of an artesian well. Though actually she is better now. The
Addiss children have had to suffer always from Jim's idleness between jobs,
and the fact that they couldn't have things they wanted. That does help in
definition, even though unpleasantly for adults.

So sorry to have forgotten about M. Coigny and lunch. I wonder
if a Thursday lunch wouldn't be better. Then, if there really isn't anything
to go back for the next day, to sign, one wouldn't interfere with his day or
yours-and-mine. But do make it clear that I know he must be busy, and the
lunch would be a pleasure rather than a necessity.

Your Coutts arrangements for the old dames sounds eminently
practical, and should take some of the burden off your shoulders. That is,
of being sure to send the cheques out. But I can see that it will bind at
first, though you can add to the deposit with them, they not paying in
advance.

Yes, some money and Yale's name came from Elihu Yale who was a

Madras merchant. Someone suggested to him that if he gave money the new university (or college) would or
light be named for him. He liked the idea, and Yale became Yale. But let me write Islay about it, as I have
been wanting to. It will give me something to say beyond my expressions of sympathy.

MADISON INN

on campus

601 LANGDON STREET • MADISON, WISCONSIN 53703 • PHONE 257-4391

New Haven, Conn.

16 February 1967

Dearest Fido,

This is little more than to report in
after my trip and my silence since Monday afternoon.
Tuesday morning -- the hour and a half of it at the
office before I had to go -- was so pressured that
I could not write you. And once I was in Madison I
was lost for time. Or, rather, tired when I had it,
and preparing for my lecture last night. Fortunately
the talk seemed to please, and although a blizzard
whirled there were still some 150 people to fill the
small lecture hall in which I spoke. Yale, certainly,
would not have turned out so many for such a talk,
snow or no daffodils notwithstanding. It had snowed
more or less all day -- why do I say more or less
in terms of the time span, for it did snow all day
though more or less snow according to the hour. This
morning it was zero fahrenheit when I got up, but
fortunately the snow had stopped and the day was a
dazzling winter gift of the sun. The plane took off
with no difficulties, although a few minutes late.
But this meant only cutting down the time I had to
sit at Chicago before my New York jet took off. And
that plane was late in leaving, though the tail winds
hurried it along at 750 mph and we arrived on time at
LaGuardia. Then by limousine back to the Taft, and
by taxi to the house, whence after speaking with Susan
who was off to a Board meeting of the Historical Soci-
ety I came back to the office in my own car to go over
the accumulation of mail. Your letters of the 11th,
12th, and 13th tinkled to welcome me, and I thank you.
A proper letter will go out to you tomorrow, though it
may take several before I can catch up.

All love,

I wait for the same snowstorm to reach here. It is expected to come tonight. I shall shake my fist, like
Lear.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

17 February 1967

Dearest Fido,

Having a holiday from Yale has not changed the nature of a
workday here. The phone has rung; people have kept coming; there has not
really been an undisturbed half hour. And at 5 p.m. I simply phoned the
gymn to break my appointment there for a massage--the first chance to go in
three weeks. Well, tomorrow is Saturday: but I should go at the end of the
morning to see Justus enjoy his hockey helmet and mits we gave him for his
birthday last Saturday; and the day is alumni day at Yale so I must attend
a meeting of the graduate association in the afternoon (good manners to keep
in good with the Dean), and then a reception for the Secretary of the University
who has just published a picture book history of Yale, the first in a series
of which I have just been told I am to be one of the editorial board of three.
Tonight, Susan haven been abandoned for the week is anxious to go a friend's
house for dinner and bridge. It is nearly time to go home to dress for it.
You can at least imagine my pleasure in seeing announced in the Yale Calendar
this morning that I am to be on leave of absence next year.

Your letter of the 14th (I was too weary to send hearts and flowers) came today. I was much relieved that the Tiger had been discharged from medical care as the result of the unknown brute, but wonder seriously if a catastrophe of this kind should not not be followed up by some psychiatric therapy as well as the diet. Obviously she was too fat the defend herself, but this is not new. I was seriously distrubed by the obvious onset of obesity last March when I visited you. Elsie will simply have to learn pursimony in terms of Tigerli's food bill.

I'm glad you liked the account of the poodle. It's rather like the story of the ugly duckling, this account of the orphan waif found on the streetcorner.

How splendid that your mind should be set at rest about your meeting
with Abercrombie, and how kind of Sir Ronnie to arrange it. I myself would not
have Eric along unless Abercrombie suggests it. For whatever one thinks of White,
you are not really attacking him (even though he may think so in his pride):
your point is not only the effect of such a scheme as they have worked up in the
Cpencil in terms of particular books, but the ill consequences psychologically
on the young writers of England who fear the Establishment as much as Lawrence feared
Bloomsbury.

How kind too of Sir Ronnie to continue to go to such efforts for
Alan, done really for you (in thanks) because you are so fond of Alan. I hope
the boy makes good with such wonderful chances, but only hope he won't be too
discouraged if he fails a second time.

A good plan to close down Kenwin for the three weeks you are to be
away; it will be a good rest for the ghosts. Did I tell you that our dishwasher
finally seemed to collapse. It made a hideous noise as it ran, much as though
riveting were going on. Then I discovered that Susan had to put towells underneath
it for each washing to keep the water from escaping over the kitchen floor. We
have had it for twenty years, since we redecorated the kitchen when we gave up
having help. So I bought a new one, which has been installed and seems to work
splendidly. Susan is delighted. I wish Elsie could see it.

I wrote you of the heavy snowstorm in Madison, Wisconsin, on Wednesday.
Yesterday I flew over it and New York was as fair as the city I had left. Now

18 February 1967

Dearest Fido,

All days are hectic apparently, for me as well as for you. Today is Alumni Day, Yale's equivalent of "old girls' day" at Queenwood, and the cooridors have been full of returning ancients. I properly registered at the room at the far end of corridor (as an ex graduate student), pilfered two huge jelly doughnuts for Prof Ahlstrom (who was helping me study applications) and myself, and beat a hasty retreat to my office and work. But I quit a little after eleven to go home and fetch Susan to the hockey rink to watch Justus at his first hockey practise. Yale runs this for the children of faculty and students. We had given him a helmet, gloves, a new stick and a puck for his birthday, and this was his first chance to use them. There on the ice were a swarm of eager happy little rats, whisking here and there, sometimes hitting the puck but genuinely gleeful. Two fathers (ex hockey players were directing), and Jus told us it was FUN. But he did really need shin guards as well, for the sake of his pants as much as his shins, and so after lunch I picked him up and we went together to buy these two.

But I cannot escape the Day entirely and must go soon to a business meeting of the graduate students' alumni organization (to be at least seen), and afterwards to a reception in honor of the Secretary of the University. Meanwhile I have been typing desperately away at odd letters, paying bills, answering cries for help, etc. Your own letter of the 15th was in the morning mail.

By now you must have received my letter about Beney, for I devoted most of one on the subject immediately on receipt of yours. I don't know. My reaction at first was that he had made us all involuntary tithers, with his great weakness that of being a big shot among the Lord's lieutenants. And yet I think there must have been a deeper psychiatric problem that nagged him. Perhaps in the end one will find that helping the daughter, building his chalet, all these things played their part too, and it just might be that some of the funds went towards himself and his own family. The gifts to religious organizations may in a fully unveiled end turn out to have been a useful cover, useful that is to the bank and his family in diverting blame for what was in fact more serious as a reflection on him as customer's banker. I begin, for example, to wonder if Winson was entirely untouched, for if he worked on Elsie certainly so much more would he have worked on an outlander who was benefitting if he got anything at all. It might just be that this was the explanation as to why I never really did increase proportionately with the general world market, and why he said he thought I did not want capital gains (when I told him the opposite), and in fact the income was always less than, percentage wise) what even stingy Yale allows as income from ear-marked invested funds conservatively placed. Do you recall that when I chided him on this, mildly, he suddenly told me he would cut me in on a quick deal he was doing; and two days afterwards (before I left) remarkably gave me an extra $1,500 he had just made for me? One shouldn't be suspicious, I know; and I did honestly like him and would still. But the chance to share in an unspecified deal shouldn't be restricted to one's being on the spot, and it was intended for a tranquilizer. Don't try to shield me; I deserve to share with my brothers and sisters in the losses. Anyhow I do hope Coigny will have scrutinized W sharply.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

19 February 1967

Dearest Fido,

I never seem really to be able to get down to a letter, and even Sunday is no exception. For this afternoon I must take Susan to the Historical Society for a lecture on the silver exhibition; and this morning has been spent with business letters. Except for one to Horace. I enclose his most recent to me, and I think it is probably a good thing for him to have at least one correspondence to keep him in outside touch. I thought perhaps I'd try a weekly letter to him, although I can ill afford the time.

To return to where I broke off yesterday. Don't worry about Pup's books. I must have written unclearly, for what I meant to say was that I had actually given her a copy of your brother's book, one of Kenneth's early ones, or was it Herring?, and a couple of yours. I will dig some of the others out for her later. They are at the back of the storage case and we were in a bit of a rush.

I have just paid another fat bill for Horace's nurses, and sent it and the others off to the New York lawyers. When I phoned them they said they were working on it, but this has been going on since last September while you were still here. I've jogged them now on the basis of the surgeon's bill and my income taxes. I hope they'll come through.

Bought a little Henty ms note, for $4.00, from a dealer in Texas. He had offered six lines of poetry by Henty but, alas, that had been sold, beforehand. Part of my weekend correspondence has been in reference to Palimpsest. It looks now as though all were in order for the Southern Illinois University Press to publish it. It will be good to have it in print again, and might lead the way to some others. Kay Boyle writes that the Emanuel Carnaveli memoir is being published; she had given me the typescript copy which I had to send to the publisher for her. Another letter was written for the undergraduate admissions office to a young Negro in Chicago whom they want to enroll. One courts the clever ones madly, so anxious is one to put up a good appearance. A reasonably able graduate who is also Negro can ask his own price, for every company wants to appear integrated.

You asked earlier about Romaine's book and suggested Mardersteig. He is the one with whom we have been in correspondence, but whom Romaine didn't think quite suitable. That was my reason for sending her a copy of my Bryher-book so that she could see what it was like. Only now apparently she can hardly see, and thought she was supposed to read it. I haven't heard a word from her in the past fortnight. Whether a letter from you would prod, I don't know.

When I was at the University of Wisconsin, I stopped in at their Rare Book Room at the library to see what manuscript holdings they had. One occasionally runs across things by just such odd chances. This time it was 36 letters to Susan's great grandfather, but I was shocked that so large a university (31,000 students) had a ms file of cards only five inches long. Not a thing of Horace's or Marya's, although the Librarian showed me the correspondence in which Horace had not only promised them all of his papers but specifically mentioned several he was asking Pat to send at once. Nothing came, and as you know he sold them all to Syracuse.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

One can't really blame him, and he explained to them that he had to when they checked up on the things he had said from gaylord he would send. Nor has Wisconsin paid much attention to him, not certainly giving them both the honorary degrees they as alumni deserved. Still, it was also shocking to find that they had no books of either of them in the rare book collection, nor indeed of any of the other Wisconsin authors who graduated from there. I more or less said that eventually I would see they had good collection of the books of both. Eventually we will have several duplicate copies, and since none of mine have ever been signed these might as well go there. The dedicated ones to you ought eventually to go to Yale, but not until after their death.

Have made a little headway at my desk this morning, but oh much remains to be done.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

20 February 1967

Dearest Fido,

Today, as often on Monday, came a flood of letters from you. Those
of the 16th, 17th and two of the 18th. I bow in gratitude.

How marvelous that Coigny may come back to you. The thing to do
of course is to get the double machine so that you can simply deliver the tape
to her and she can work from it at her own home. Then as she delivers back one
batch you can hand over another. All offices work this way.

I'm glad you liked Pup's letter. My own hunch is that I think she
felt handed around as a child, quite apart from her natural awe of you and Hilda
as writers. And in a sense, there was no help for it, she never quite had a
pied-a-terre in the normal child's sense. A school here and there, a sojourn here
and there; some times a mother, sometimes a nanny, sometimes a grandmother. Perhaps
she didn't even quite have a nationality. This would be liberating to some, but
not to all. Later she wanted desperately herself to be a writer, partly to gain
admiration, as Hilda wanted it from her older father. That never worked out. So
in a sense she never did quite gain her identity.

I agree that analysis for adolescents is not much practised, on the
basis that they will grow out of it. But I wish that psychiatrists had kept on
with Lizzie as a pup rather than leave the solution to time. Actually Justus has
had four sessions already, and young Susan has said that he responds, talks to the
man, enjoys it. She is to have a final report as to whether or not the sessions
should be continued. I said I would pay if the advice was to continue. $30.00 a
session seems like a lot, but better to get him in the clear now. Jim behaves
stupidly in Providence and the young student (14 years younger than himself) has
now moved in with him. Children don't like this. They feel the affront to the
mother.

As to the furniture for Pup, I think you should think no more of it until
at least your next visit when they have already settled there and perhaps have an idea
of what is truly needed. Even if, for the moment, they do not have everything, it
might just be a realization of this which would benefit the children in their attitude
toward money. It is too easy to think of its endless flow.

By now you must long since have gotten my letter suggesting a Thursday lunch
with Jean Coigny; that is, provided he can spare the time for it. I know how busy he
must be.

The story of Ines and the fire quite astonished me. I had no idea that
things could explode in this way. How fortunate she was not to have been injured.
All things considered, I suppose it is only natural that she takes a defensive
offense. But she is like a stone age child suddenly thrust into a mechanical world.

How extraordinary that Berenice Abbott should have written. Do write her;
she is lonely soul, cut off and cutting herself off from most. But a brilliant
person with the camera.

I feel faintly justified by Quirk, but the victory is yours.

2 3 1 H G S
YALE UNIVERSITY
NEW HAVEN • CONN

21 February 1967

Dearest Fido,

Helen called me in mid-afternoon to tell me the wonderful news about *January*. She had only just laid down the phone from con-cluding the agreement with Secker and Warburg. I was as pleased as she was, as pleased as we both hope you will be. The firm is a first-class one; I like its list far better than Collins's, and their terms were suited to a Hemingway, -- one fashion of showing their respect. I feel like singing.

Your letter of the 19th arrived in mid-afternoon. For one as active as Sir Gawaine has been it must be difficult to face retirement. I think though that he will keep busy, and even keep writing. I hope so. And for this it is perhaps better that they stay in London rather than isolate themselves in Switzerland. A long background like yours is needed to make an older age residence tolerable.

I am glad the *Bonnets* has come. I shall want to take a look at it when I am over. And Marianne's book too I think you will like. It has very good things in it. Do write her about it; she need not know you weren't sent a copy by her; indeed she may wonder why you haven't written. Or say that I sent it, as you prefer.

The furor over the CIA and student groups probably needs an evening's hour in the library at Kenwin. My chief abhorrence is the unprofessional way in which the CIA operated, as though they were running a chain of supermarkets. It is a primary rule in intelligence that each operation should be separated from every other one. But the CIA seems to think of itself like a huge industrial combine. I well remember how General Donovan, angry at me during the war, upbraided me for being too professional. "You should try to be an amateur," he said. I remonstrated by saying that if any profession should try to be professional, intelligence was it. The discussion became heated, I offered to resign, but the general sent back an officer from Scotland (as his plane left for the States) apologizing and asking me to stay. I won the particular skirmish, but the battle was never won.

We go on with carpentering at the house. By some confusion Susan, to whom I left the discussions with the carpenter, thought that by bins in which to store paintings in the attic I meant bins such as are used for wheat in barns. I meant those in which frames could be slid in from the side, not lifted and dropped. So these are being redone, not a complicated job, simply opening the sides and nailing down the tops. Then I found a spot in the cellar where another bookcase can be built, double in nature so books can be put in backing up against each other. It will help when I break up my office in the graduate school.

The new dishwasher seems to work like a housewife's dream.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS
YALE UNIVERSITY
NEW HAVEN-CONN

I forgot to tell you that another of my long-range operations
for Hilda's reputation may pay off. I thought that one of the younger
men, now at Wisconsin, was the type who could understand the significance
of her later poems. He has just published a book in which, although he
did not devote a chapter to her, he had a fistful of references. When
I got to Madison he took me aside and said he wanted to devote an entire
issue of the Wisconsin Studies in Literature to articles about her. It
will come out in a year or so, if things go as planned. So on my return
I sent him a copy of the Freud, the war trilogy, and two of the privately
printed prose books, none of which he had for himself. I keep doing what
I can, but one cannot rush things, just keep them moving.

All love,
Norman

22 February 1967

Dearest Fido,

Today is Washington's birthday, and there is no post. Only a few
letters accumulated from yesterday came in the first delivery. Otherwise only
campus mail from other departments. I have spent the time with a few more of the usual
letters of recommendation, and notes thanking for this and that. One was to add
my thanks to Susan's for an unexpected gift from a 97 year old lady in Charleston.
You may remember our speaking of her when we were there, though we did not go to
see her in her little plantation home; The Bluffs it was called. We had visited
it on a plantation tour, given for the benefit of a local church. Presiding then
was an old lady of 92, dressed in colonial costume, with a bonnet, and carrying a
silver bouquet holder, the only one I have ever seen. One puts the nosegay in
the top and thus the flowers are not wilted by the heat of the hand. She asked
us where we came from, and when we said New Haven she said she was born there, in
the 18th century Morris house, now exhibited by the Historical Society. Susan
said she was a trustee. I sent her pamphlets about the house, and she has sent
us goodies at Christmas ever since, and letters and the poems she writes. Aunt
Willie, is what she asked us to call her. Since then she has given regularly to
the Morris house, most recently a Duncan Phyfe table and a Hester somebody or
other silver teaset. She is in a nursing home now, and from it she sent Susan
a package with the silver flower holder in it. "Dear Susan," she wrote:

The first sight of you convinced me you were the
right princess to inherit the bouquet holder. I
wish I could send some of my beautiful camellias,
now blooming, along with it. It makes me happy to
send it to you, and I hope you will have much use of it.
With love, Aunt Willie (by R.P.Crabtree)

Last night we went to dinner with friends and then to the Shubert
Theater to see the opening night of a new play, "The Hemingway Story," by the
author of the book on him I recently sent you. It was a rare occasion. I don't
think I have ever seen so bad a play or one so badly acted. It was made up of
gobbets from Hemingway's novels and short stories (quoted verbatim; I don't know
how the author can get away with it), so mishmashed and explained that one could
only watch and listen with horror. Still, when things are bad enough they take
on a certain character, and the evening although wasted was unforgettable.

I still glow with pleasure at the thought of your English publisher.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

23 February 1967

Dearest Fido,

We were threatened today with deep snows; what we have been given
is confusion. It snows hard, then it is as though spring came; then it begins
to snow again. I shall go home through slush, but at least I will be able to
get home, which I was not sure of at one time or another.

I was defrauded of last evening. Pressured into an invitation to
a visiting German couple I asked them to the house for a drink at five. They
arrived at five-thirty and left at eight-thirty, after which we had to cook
dinner. Eat it, rather; I told Susan cold meat loaf would suffice.

This morning I spent reading affidavits and examples of their
scholarly work concerned with nominations for Sterling graduate fellowships,
the highest awards the School gives. So I did Faulkner, and medieval french
churches, and Theodore Rousseau, and Schleiermacher. Quite an assortment.

Your letter of the 20th came with the morning snow. This is awful
news about Islay's investment. I remember we both thought he should have shifted
to Fides. Had one stayed with Egli I wonder if we would ever have known at all?
The amount involved, overall, does make one wonder if there isn't actually more
than misplaced goodness involved. I still think it odd if he didn't dip into me
at all. That too would be an interesting point to speculate on.

Glad the Hyksos arrived safely. Perhaps it has something to do with the
way the books are packed in my office. This one came from HGS; some of the others
directly from the C o-op. Incidentally I asked Helen whether or not you had ever
sent her the promised inscribed copy of *January* to go in the box with the ms, and
fill the space now filled by Maggs with folded newspapers. She says you did not.
Unless there is some secret reason for your not wanting to, I hope you will. Nor
mally it wouldn't matter; now it is the matter of filling the box.

Laforgue's crispness of diction is intriguing, I think. A quite remark-
able poet.

I was pleased to have a pull of the dedication page of Dudley Fitts' new
book of translations of Martial. Dedicated to me. I think nothing touches me so
deply as a dedication, far better than being given a god child.

It has begun snowing again, since I began the sheet. And I must go home to
meet the director of the Andover Art Gallery. They are putting on a show of things
borrowed from alumni. He is here to look at paintings owned by a couple of local real
collectors and wants to see if any of my oddments might fit.

The revaluation of the books has come back. They have gone up by about
50%. This is for insurance purposes.

25 February 1967

Dearest Fido,

No letter from you today, but yesterday came those of the 21st and 22nd and I did not write you, could not. I was deep all day with admissions applications, and prof. Lewis and I worked so late that I could only decamp and take Susan to a cocktail party where the widow of an ex-president of Yale showed off her new house. Last night was one of those good occasions on which to have a television set. There was a full hour's program, superbly filmed and presented, in which Lotte Lenya and some German presented a survey of Weil's career and music. I must say she is a marvel; it was the first time I had seen her. She must be well into her 70's and yet she was as full of youth as a girl of forty. Like yourself. I think even you would have sucombed to telly had you been here.

This morning I waited at the house 66r Eddie Hoepfner (the best cabinet maker hereabouts) to deliver the 18th century highboy that was Susan's bequest from her mother. The highboy originally belonged to an ancestor, a General Gold Sellek Silliman of the Revolution who was captured by the British on Long Island and then ransomed from them. (Quite by chance some years ago I was able to buy for Susan the exchange of ransom papers, held by a New York dealer. The highboy had stood on the second-story hallway of the big house at the shore, and had been badly repaired at one time or another, become chipped, and the brasses dulled. I had Eddie put it back into museum shape again, and it now stands where the little bookcase did by the window in the guest room across from Susan's upstair's study. It is not a great piece, but it is family and fun. Hoepfner who is slow as molasses has had it since last August. I had the little bookcase taken into the cellar where it can again be used.

Today I have been tidying up on the applications, and will finish my report and choice on Monday.

L'affaire B eney still puzzles me, and I thank you for going to the extra effort to check on its affect on W. If nothing happened, as I now agree it did not, to yours and mine, it was perhaps because I had the habit of going over the accounts annually on my visit to you. And you of course had given no authorization to him and went over affairs more or less weekly. He may felt it was too risky. But poor Elsie and poor Islay. I think the bank must assume responsibility, and presumably carries insurance as banks do here. After all B eney was indeed their agent.

We too distinguish between ice hockey and field hockey; though the former is usually in winter referred to simply as hockey, and Field hockey is mostly a girls' schoolgame.

I have not seen the interview with Marianne in McCall's. As I told you she has taken the role formerly assumed by Robert Frost. Tante Marianne, I think she has become.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

I am glad you are pleased about the English publisher for *January*, but hard and loyally as Silva has worked I think we must give the credit for this to Helen herself. She has never stopped trying, and called me frequently in worry about it. Her correct stance was not to seem to be peddling it, lest its value be decreased by too frequent an appearance on editors' desks. Secker & Warburg is a firm Helen has spoken about, waiting for the man to come on this side as representatives from each firm at least annually do. She wanted also to wait until we had the reviews to show. The editor at Secker is a friend of hers, and she felt this important so as to give you one you would find congenial. You could not have a more loyal friend than Silva, but none more loyal than Helen either.

How interesting that Ingholt is involved with the Hyksos man; I had not known, for alas I seldom see Harald now that his presidency of the Connecticut Academy is over with. He works at his Hatra book and on the revisions of the lectures he gave in London. But neither seem to advance very much. I suspect he is a more enthusiastic digger than writer.

The director of the Amdover museum came Thursday night in the snow; storm and was given a quick tour of the house while he made notes of things that might interest him to borrow. Naturally, not having paintings by famous names, she could not pounce on a Leonardo and insist that we must lend it. And as always I find that tastes never quite jibe and I was sometimes surprised at what he liked or was indifferent to. Mostly he was enthused by the small objects like the Egyptian ibis, but I was rather bewildered when he fastened on to the Roman matron in the breakfast alcove. Still, it is his show not mine.

The Yale Babylonian collection has phoned to borrow the Hittite pieces for the national convention in mid-March. They are to be exhibited and there is to be a symposium on them. It comes just after we have flown to Vienna. How I wish I could what is said about them.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

26 February 1967

Dearest Fido,

Last night Susan and I dutifully went to dinner in the President's Room at Woolsey Hall and then to the Gala Ball of the Graduate School on the stone floor of Freshman Commons. It was pleasant company and poor dancing, but we made our appearance and thus kept in the necessary good graces of the Dean of the Graduate School. Chairmen of departments and directors of graduate study were invited from the faculty, so I felt like Siamese twins, being both. Fortunately we crept off early, and so were able to get up this morning without any feeling of having been on the town.

When I got home I sat down and read the three yellowbacks that had just come, crammed with letters from your Christmas season. Those about up to early January, but with one envelope filled with things from later in the month. So I judged you had an hour of office cleaning. I was particularly interested that as of the end of January Silva was still hoping for news from Helen or myself as to what she should do towards finding a publisher. I had not written her because you said you would do this yourself, the question having originally been put to you. I can hardly say I blame you for not writing her, considering all that has happened since the beginning of the year. But this helped to confirm that it was Helen who must particularly be thanked for Secker rather than Silva. I was much interested in all the letters but do not remember anything that needed special comment.

Today I have really settled down to it, and spent the hours putting little checks in the square on applications which means REJECT. It is always sad to do, but I feel some glee in feeling that this particular task is nearly done. Now I have the fellowship applications to go over; that is, requests for fellowship funds for next year from those already enrolled.

I did however stay home for a couple of hours after lunch and worked with Susan in the attic putting away pictures in to the newly made bins. They seem to work out wonderfully well, and the best thing was the chance to put some order to them: portraits in one spot, art for the wrong reason in another, and so forth. But there is much work still to be done; this was only the beginning of putting the attic into order.

Sundays are hardly a day of rest.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

27 February 1967

Dearest Fido,

This is all in my usual rushed fashion, but it is nearly six o'clock and time for me to go home, stopping off to give Justus his walky-talky set which I have just had repaired. He adores it, but I understand that the w-t's have become a nuisance; people listen in to police conversations with them, and to telephones in cars and taxis.

Your letter of the 23rd came in this morning; the two of the 24th and that of the 25th this afternoon. I picked them up as I was going into the committee meeting to choose the Sterling F Ellows for the graduate school -- the school's highest honor for students. So I have not been able to do much more than glance at them, and will do them greater justice tomorrow.

Life is kept in a state of constant drama with the Beney affair. I had not realised that Helen too would be involved in it. I shall be much interested in your more detailed account when we are together, plus -- of course--Coigny's. As much, that is, as he will tell. I suspect you may be wise to take your little things out of the Union Suisse, but better to leave the pearls and tiarras there until you have a safe place to which to move them. And Coigny is absolutely right; you must not move before restoration is made (if it is to be). To move now would destroy the possibility not only for yourself but for others. This will be a difficult time in which to practise tact, but tact is required.

It is characteristically kind of you to offer to pay for the extra sessions for Justus. But young Susan has talked with the analyst and he thinks no more are just now needed. The channel has been opened for emergencies. And I think it better for young Susan to pay for these four; in this sense it is taken more seriously by her and perhaps even by Justus than when it is paid from outside. It always used to be a rule of thumb that the best results from analysis came when the patient paid out of his own pocket. So this time I really am returning the check to you, but will not have the slightest hesitation to call on you when and as the need arises.

Very hard for me to think of Berenice Abbott and your Mildred-and-Cindy in a double bed (figuratively speaking). But I wonder if it wasn't suggested to the Abbott(who does love to sneak away to Maine (or so she once told me) that Miss Brown had a warm house and an extra room to rent in winter.

You doubted that Hilda saved your letters to her? She did all but put each one between plastic sheets. I have an entire filing drawer full of them, from the very first. They were her dearest treasure, and when she gave them to me it was the highest compliment she could pay me. It was like giving me a part of herself.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

28 February 1967

Dearest Fido,

Have just laid down the phone after a talk with David Scott, Director of the National Collection of Fine Arts, in Washington. His is the spot where Romaine's paintings are going, and I had (as you know) promised to give them the money to fly him over for a final conference with her. The first, actually, since he has never met her. I worried lest my absence in Texas and Switzerland be when he needed the money to go. he was surprised at my call, having dictated a letter to me five days ago on the subject. But it has never come. At any rate he leaves on the 13th, but will let me know the amount on my return and his. Much more accurate that way. However one firm possibility arose, and that was that the Smithsonian (with a little help) might sponsor a publication of Romaine's memoirs to go along with some of her pictures. It would be an immense help to have them as an agent and storage space. And as sponsor. I told him to take it up with Romaine, saying we had discussed it and I thought it fine. If it did work out what a relief it would be! One does what one can.

I go back over yesterday's batch of letters from you. None so far today, but I write in the morning after a long session with the asst. dean in charge of fellowships. I didn't mean to toss the check back at you, but Justus actually won't be needing help at the moment, and with all of the Beneyfisharies you may wish to help you'd better keep your clutch on as much as possible. # I am completely with you in thinking that Sir Gawain and Lady Wipt ought not really to try to transplant at this age. It is drawing near the time when he will need his club to retire to. Every man and every woman needs to get out once in a while to something. #As I told you, Hilda did keep every scrap from you -- kept and cherished. # Glad you liked the Marianne's book. It seemed to me far more forceful than other recent ones.

A yellowback came in yesterday, again with 1st of the year letters. How very nice of Jean Starr to dedicate her new book to you. *Job's Daughter* sounds better than *Lot's Wife*, but it would make me boil. #I was interested in Mary Hotson's note (what a lot of time she must spend pasting pictures on to pieces of paper. I shall certainly be curious to see Leslie's book. I was amused by the "vestry's high-handedness." They thought the Hostons h-h'ed the vestry. # Agnes Latham's comment on *January* was most perceptive; Consie's was fine but she seems to miss the relevance to today, although she did nicely side with you and the Saxons. # I was interested to keep up with Collins, and rather envy him the ability to keep busy doing nothing. Life has passed him by, and he relatiates with good sense. # Your Beaumong Wadsworth interested me by referring to the American, Thomas Staley, who has written (or at least finished) a book on Dorothy Richardson. I have not heard any announcement of it, and he certainly didn't try to use the papers at Yale. Or not that I remember. # It is odd to think of one of the Vabaek daughter's married. I presume it is the one-handed one who has been to the Middle East. Perhaps we can see them all when the three of us go to the great Norse show at Copenhagen and on to Greenland this summer. # Cousin Jack was most interesting on the Burton "Terminal Essay". As the intro to the little paperback said, the book he had was made up of sections

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

from the terminal essay, omitting the discussions of linguistics and the
like. But the spicy parts were of course all included; that is, what gave
the Essay its reputation. Cousin Jack is quite right in inferring that
American publishing has moved from its Puritan background. Today Burton
seems very mild indeed. # Islay's letter from Lahore was absolutely fascinating.
He does write vividly. I enjoyed seeing Islay's card. We had thought of
staying at the Rambagh Palace in Jaipur, but instead went to a much simpler
one. However, we ran into an American professor and his wife, whom I knew
from American literature, and had a pleasant time with them.

Now I must return to consolidate my work this morning. At night
I must go to a sophomore dinner at one of the Yale undergraduate colleges.
The Master is a friend and wants someone there from American Studies. I go
reluctantly, not having yet written my three lectures for next week.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

1 March 1967

Dearest Fido,

What a night and early morning! My Olds was stolen from
the parking lot near my office, gone when I went out at 10 p.m. after
working on admissions grants and fellowships for present students,
feeling happy and contented because everything was in order for Mrs
Sherman to type them up in final form. (I had had to stay down for
dinner at Morse College, a dinner for sophomores, in order to please
the Master.) My spirits were in my bootheels when no familiar black
hulk was in view. I felt in my pocket; the keys were there. Finally,
after touring the lot I plodded back to my office to phone the police.
Coming from the Graduate School was its Dean who twitted me on reporting
so late for work. But he insisted that I go to his house, next to the gym,
and phone from there. Which I did, and soon we had assembled the campus cops
and the city police, all busily taking down the sad details. The city
police phoned the state registry of motor vehicles to confirm my registra-
tion, only to be told that no car was registered under my name and that
number. Absurd, since I have had the same car and number for six years.
Anyhow, the Dean finally drove me home and I prepared my soul for the
ordeal of having to buy a new car, be without one in these crucial
days before I leave for Kenwin. But the story has a happy ending, for
at 8:30 this morning as I was waiting for Susan to wait to go for Mrs
Heyda and drop me off at the office, the phone rang to say the car had
been found abandoned about three miles away, and could be picked up at
the garage to which it had been towed. It must have been youths proving
themselves adept at crossing wires; no damage seems to have been done to
it. "Poor car!" I exclaimed, patting it gently, as Elsie would pat Tigerli,
"having to be out in the cold all night long." But I couldn't give it a
bowl of petrol, for not enough had been used out of the tank I had filled
on Sunday.

Otherwise there is nothing to report.

No letter from you today.

N O R M A N

H O L M E S

P E A R S O N

2 3 1 H G S

Y A L E U N I V E R S I T Y

N E W H A V E N · C O N N

3 March 1967

Dearest Fido,

No letter to you yesterday, for which I apologize. But these
final days before Texas are absolutely bedlam. To make it worse, Mrs Sherman
was out most of the day sitting at the bedside of a dying cousin, a divorced
woman ill with cancer whom Mrs Sherman takes care of. She didn't die but the
day was killed. Still, I didn't do much to save it. I began the morning
by a visit to the podiatrist, and then went to the savings bank first -- to
deposit another permissions fee to Hilda's account. And to take out enough
from my account to transfer to the regular bank to pay for tickets, travellers'
checks, and enough cash to get me to Texas and back. They pay a fee out which
I must pay expenses, but I don't get the fee until the expenses have been met.
Thereupon I hurried back to the Graduate School for a meeting with the Deans
about the two German Fellows and their financial difficulties. It was finally
agreed that they had not been given enough monthly, so they will receive $125
more. I hope this will please them, especially the uppity one whose father so
shamefully was a kaufmann.

Then after a quickish lunch, but longer than my ten-minute
sandwich yesterday, I went to the medical doctor for my cold shot and a typhoid
booster. Once that was over I went to the typewriter shop to pick up your
new machine, but the right man wasn't there. So I drove to the airport to
untangle my airticket to Washington on the 12th. It took almost an hour, but
the circumstances would take as long again to narrate. I only pittied the
girl who had flown in for the Junior Prom tonight, but whose baggage did not
arrive with her on the plane and could not be gotten here in time for the ball.
It was a day of sadness. As I went into the building where the doctor's office
is, I saw a priest, a woman in black, and a young man of 17 or 18, the young
man burying his head on the priest's shoulder and crying as I had forgotten
people could cry.

Mrs Sherman was back at the office when I finally arrived, so
I could at least give her directions for the 10 days of my absence, but there
was time for her to do only two immediately necessary letters.

Yesterday you were cheated of your letter by a day of appointments
followed by a lecture commemorating the centenary of the birth of Irving Fisher,
an economist, said to be the chief American economist up until the 1930's. He
was a theorist on money, of international reputation. His son we know, and the
son's wife even better, since she is another flower arranger like Susan. We
went doubly, then, as friends, and as Chairman of American Studies. There was
a reception afterwards. After dinner we listened to an hour long tribute to
Wallace Stevens on telly, with Holly Stevens taking part -- interesting for me,
but rather dull telly -- and then I settled down and finished up what I could
do at the moment with my income tax data. The rest will pretty much have to be
up to our tax man.

So life has been dull, and a dull letter is the appropriate organic
expression. I shall have to come back to the office tonight to work, thus telling
me too.

I was of course delighted to have your letters of the 27th and 28th
yesterday. And flattered to be included in the Lowndes group, though indeed you
made me feel a part of it. And it a part of me. I think you are right; Pup

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

4 March 1967

Dearest Fido,

I have done 37 letters today, and not notes at that. I must say I am fatigued. I could use a couple of hours more, however, since I have not even begun to plan the lectures for Texas; but I had months ago promised to take Justus to a hockey game, and this is the last day of the year in which I can do it. He is such an enthusiastic player of hockey himself that it does seem as though he should for once see a game properly played. He and I go alone--as between men -- Then I pick up Susan and his mother and sister and "we" (Justus and I") are taking them to Mory's for dinner.

Your letter of March 1st came last night after I had written you. There was nothing today, which means I will be without letters from you until next Sunday morning.

Susan sends in an earnest plea that Tigerli not be distrubed. Indeed Kenwin would hardly be Kenwin without her, and the library would not be the same without the Tiger at the window, or the chance to see Ines as Rajah on tiger hunt in the garden. Actually Susan is much less allergic than she was 25 years ago, and cats do not really distrub her except when they insist on sitting in her lap. And even then, with Lizzie's Siamese cat, the cat does sit in Susan's lap and there are no incidents of sneezing in consequence. No, we should pick up and decamp were the Tiger not with us. She has always distained me as an intruder, but I remain her admirer. So take pity on us, and do not send the Tiger to a convent.

I scarcely dare think what I shall do about the lectures, but perhaps I can compose my mind on the long flight down tomorrow. And I do not have to appear on the platform until evening. I will begin to think tonight, I hope if I am not too sleepy from dinner and the rink.

My pulmoary man phoned me yesterday to say the tests showed my blood was deficient in oxygen, which may account for my becoming tired more easily of late. But I am in for a great lark on my return, for I am to star in a movie, the debut of the camera as well as my own. They are developing a highly specialized camera that will take moving pictures of the lungs in operation as the oxygen goes through them. It has been used but never for such a purpose and the medical school is almost ready to put it in operation. First it will be tried on a dog and then on me, though I am not sure of the difference. This will be a real "underground" film; you must come over for the first showing.

And now for the rink. I will drop a note tomorrow morning if I can; otherwise I write from Texas.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

5 March 1967

Dearest Fido,

I have come back to the office, briefly, after packing my bags, to put together whatever I could garner in the way of notes towards my talks at Texas. I'm not sure whether or not I told you what I would be doing. The arrangement was my idea to begin with, so I felt I couldn't refuse. The Chairman of English at the University of Texas stopped by in November wanting to find some senior man to teach a course in American literature the second term. I told him it was impossible at so late a date to find anyone. He didn't want to turn the money back to the treasurer. So I suggested inviting several seniors each to come for a week, with a week's interval between. Reading to be assigned in advance; two local juniors to correct papers and run the course. So I am one of the seniors. They will pay me $1,500 for the week, but best of all I shall have the chance to look at the William Wetmore Story papers at last. You remember when I tried to find them in Florence. It would have cost me over $400.00 to fly down just for that, and I should not have dared picking up my work on the Italian notebooks without seeing it.

I am giving one lecture on Henry James (The Wings of the Dove) and two on Gertrude Stein, but bringing in general remarks on American fiction between 1870 and 1910. Fortunately I have just now found outlines from classes here that will do perfectly well. They'd better!

ice

Justus enjoyed his/hockey game yesterday afternoon, although I should think his attention span was somewhat limited. We saw parts of two games, both disasterous from Yale's point of view. The freshmen lost 9-1; the junior varsity, 5-3. And at night the varsity were defeated 5-3. Thus endeth the season. Afterwards we took young Susan and the two children to Mory's, always a great treat for Susan to eat out, and an excitement for the grandchildren.

I'm afraid I was too exhausted when we got home to do much reading. Instead I dozed. Yesterday's stint at the typewriter was too much. I underestimated my tally when I wrote. I had forgotten a pile of drafts of letters for Mrs Sherman to type up that I had put on her desk. It was 42 altogether. I should have done more.

But I will put the case over my typewriter and go home for a sandwich. I have to catch the limousine at the Taft at noon.

All love,

Forty ACRES CLUB

GUADALUPE AT 25TH ADJACENT TO THE UNIVERSITY OF TEXAS

AUSTIN, TEXAS 78705

GR 2-3191

7 March 1967

Dearest Fido,

This is shocking, not to have written you either yesterday or today until late at night. But I was tired when I came and have been busy and tired since. The other night I shall have to be up until early morning as I was last night at a huge buffet dinner and party for 130 people given for me by a former student who is now a professor here. He actually met me Sunday night when I arrived about 7:30 and since I had eaten between planes in Dallas and he and his wife had not, expecting to take me out, I went with them and took them to dinner while I sat by with a beer.

I came down not very well prepared for the event, but my first lecture Monday afternoon on Henry James seemed to be reasonably well received so that was a good beginning. At least the students said I was the first of the three lecturers so far who had not talked down to them. My lectures, to a class of some 60 or more students and a general audience of perhaps 40 more, come again tomorrow afternoon and Friday afternoon, Meanwhile I met today another group of 10 students from the registered class for an hour from 2-3 and another group from 4-5. Tomorrow a group from 2-3, with the lecture at 4; two more groups Thursday, and a group before the lecture on Friday. This is more concentrated teaching than I have done for a long time, and I must be on my best behavior.

But mornings I have been spending at the Library, going slowly over the Wetmore Story papers from which I am picking up an occasional scrap that will be useful for the Italian notebooks. I cannot always quite remember precisely what has been used by Henry James in his Wetmore Story and His Friends, or at least used completely, but at least it is proving worthwhile to have come, and of course cheaper to come when I am paid than when paying. Texas has the reputation of being somewhat offish about the use of their manuscript material, but I have walked on a red carpet.

Each day I walk under the tower where the sharpshooter last August killed the 16 people below him, and am forced to admire his diabolic markmanship even though deploring his lack of sanity.

I eat mostly at this motel, made into a club so that members can belong and be served liquor at the bar (I have a temporary membership for a dollar much in the fashion of a London bottle Club, and eat well and much less expensively than in New Haven or New York. A breakfast of juice, coffee, and egg, ham or bacon, hot rolls costs one dollar; my dinner tonight of a steak cost altogether 3.50. I should have added hominy grits to breakfast, a delicacy you may remember from Charleston. But oh the problem Texans appear to have when they eat out of the state, and not simply in terms of money. Two ladies at the next table who appeared to own ranches and were obviously not selling matches on the street wailed to each other: the one, *They never* heard of grits in Colorado!" And the other, "I was in New York and they don't even serve potatoes with breakfast, I just love potatoes with breakfast!" So life cannot be easy for them, though they make it easier for me.

D. M. BUCK McCULLOUGH
President

Guadalupe at 25th adjacent to The University of Texas

Forty Acres Club

P. O. BOX 1014 • AUSTIN, TEXAS • GR 2-3191

ADVISORY BOARD

ABILENE

Lamar H. Moore, Jr.
Hal Sayles
Don Wooten

AUSTIN

Rooster Andrews
C. N. Buck Avery, Jr.
Bob Armstrong
Warren M. Beaman, II
Hub Bechtol
Everett Bohls
Paul Bofton
Mike W. Butler
Joe Coffin
M. Z. Collins
Gus K. Eifler, Jr.
Frank C. Erwin
Jack Gray
Charles Green
Weldon Hart
Bubi Jessen
Bill Kennedy
R. Mayo King
Bill R. Maguire
A. J. "Beri" Maloney
George H. Marsh
F. C. McConnell
D. M. Buck McCullough
George K. Meriwether, III
Tom Miller, Jr.
Dan Moody, Jr.
Gary Morrison
Trueman O'Quinn
John Osorio
Dick Reynolds
Morin M. Scott
Wally Scott
Jack Sparks
Don Thomas
Raymond Todd
Glenn Teoke, Jr.
Wilford Turner
Col. Roy Ward
Don Weedon
Clifton Winstead

BARRINGTON, ILLINOIS

Fred Flato

BEAUMONT

Ed. W. Thorp

CHAPPELL HILL

Charles Coates

CORPUS CHRISTI

Hayden Head

DALLAS

D. Harold Byrd
Wilbur Evans
Wm. C. Herndon
Rudolph Johnson
Charles C. Pierce
Robert S. Trotti
Jack C. Vaughn
Dudley K. Woodward
Angus G. Wynne, Jr.
Bedford S. Wynne

EAGLE PASS

R. C. Harper

9 March 1967

Dearest Fido,

Judging from the letterpaper I don't see how the Club can really suffer from lack of advice.

The days continue. I worked yesterday morning in the Library, lunched at noon at an elaborate somewhere, on the 24th floor of a building near the state house, with a friend who is head of the Romance Languages Department. Then at night dined with a girl who has moved here after retirement from an Ohio college -- she was in graduate school with me, and has always kept in contact with us -- and then on to a party given by another Professor of English here who originally came from New Haven and Yale.

But more interesting to you was yesterday's breakfast. At the next table was a youngish Englishman, a little too hung over to read his newspapers (two days old anyhow) but not so much so as to keep from a remark to me which led to the fact that he was an English bookdealer and then, when I had asked him if he would like to drink his coffee at my table, to the clarification that he was Anthony Rota who now has Bertram Rota after the death of his father. We had exchanged many letters over the years, but chiefly important was his very close friendship with Jocelyn (of which I knew). So I asked for details of his death. Jocelyn had complained in letters that the house was a little cold but otherwise was or seemed to be fit until he went to bed one night and quite quietly died in his sleep. Rota was informed, want down at once, found the good ladies of the village already tidying up things by throwing away Jocelyn's letters and papers, and stopped them at least from that moment. The death was sad but there were not many to mourn. Jocelyn had rather dropped out, and the sands were dropping out too. He knew he would never have another novel published, at least in his lifetime, he lost the zest for criticism and found it difficult to get (as O.B. does). Rota as a memorial wants to get out a collection of his critical articles, for at least he managed to save the batch of clippings Jocelyn had put away, of his newspaper articles. I had not realised that, through Rota, Jocelyn had sold what papers he had had to Texas. That little checklist Rota published had been done as a kind of publicity for JB, and because of it Rota said there were some twenty libraries in the States with good collections of Jocelyn's work. The rest will have to be left to the future, but it is good to know that caches remain for the future to turn to if hungry.

EDNA
Harrison Stafford

FORT WORTH
Amon Carter, Jr.
Gus E. Holmstrom

GALVESTON
Ed C. Leach
Geo. H. McCullough
Ballinger Mills
W. O. Watson

HOUSTON
John F. Austin, Jr.
Rex G. Baker, Jr.
Brown Booth
Joe Kelly Butler
Carl Detering
W. S. Bill Elkins
Keith Foreman
John B. Holmes
Leroy Jeffers
Joe King
Ronald L. McVey
Frank W. Michaux
J. R. Parten
Jack Perry
E. David Philley
Robert L. Reese
John V. Singleton, Jr.
John F. Taylor
Thos. F. Taylor
Howard Tellespen
Howard Terry

JASPER
Joe Tonahill

KINGSVILLE
Richard M. "Dick" Kleberg, Jr.

LUFKIN
H. J. "Bubba" Shands

LONGVIEW
R. E. "Peppy" Blount

LUBBOCK
C. E. Fulgham

ROCKDALE
H. H. "Pete" Coffield

SAN ANTONIO
Roy Baines
Hal H. Dewar
W. B. McMillan
Raymond Russell, Jr.
Mrs. Edgar Tobin

STAMFORD
A. M. G. "Swede" Swenson

TEXARKANA
Josh R. Morriss, Sr.

TEMPLE
H. K. Allen

TYLER
Ira Hildebrand
J. L. "Jake" Patton

WACO
Joe Ward

WICHITA FALLS
R. O. "Dick" Harris

D. M. BUCK MCCULLOUGH
President

Forty ACRES CLUB

ADVISORY BOARD

ABILENE

AUSTIN

Rooster Andrews
C. N. Buck Avery, Jr.
Bob Armstrong
Warren M. Beaman, II
Hub Bechtol
Everett Bohls
Paul Botton
Mike W. Butler
Joe Coffin
M. Z. Collins
Gus K. Eifler, Jr.
Frank C. Erwin
Jack Gray
Charles Green
Weldon Hart
Bubi Jessen
Bill Kennedy
R. Mayo King
Jack R. Maguire
A. J. "Bert" Maloney
George H. Marsh
F. C. McConnell
D. M. Buck McCullough
George K. Meriwether, III
Tom Miller, Jr.
Dan Moody, Jr.
Gary Morrison
Trueman O'Quinn
John Osorio
Dick Reynolds
Morin M. Scott
Wally Scott
Jack Sparks
Don Thomas
Raymond Todd
Glenn Tooke, Jr.
Wilford Turner
Col. Roy Ward
Dan Weedon
Clifton Winstead

BARRINGTON, ILLINOIS

Fred Flato

BEAUMONT

Ed. W. Thorp

CHAPPELL HILL

Charles Coates

CORPUS CHRISTI

Hayden Head

DALLAS

EAGLE PASS

R. C. Harper

It was interesting to compare Rota with John Maggs, since they are about the same age and in the same position. Rota had been brought up in the trade but given responsibility by his father; Rota said John had not. Apparently John lives very modestly indeed, as I gather Rota must too; but Rota insisted that, simply as part of the business, one had to drink a little at luncheons to which one had invited customers. John invites customers to share his own frugality. Rota's hangover disappeared and it was altogether a pleasant chat. He should have been in a good mood. The Librarian was at last night's party, and said Texas had the day before purchased from Rota an English archive which Rota had gotten the owners to chip down from £60,000 to £20,000. Still even £20,000 must have yielded enough profit to pay for a lunch.

EDNA

Harrison Stafford

FORT WORTH

GALVESTON

HOUSTON

John F. Austin, Jr.
Rex G. Baker, Jr.
Brown Booth
Joe Kelly Butler
Carl Detering
W. S. Bill Elkins
Keith Foreman
John B. Holmes
Leroy Jeffers
Joe King
Ronald L. McVey
Frank W. Michaux
J. R. Parten
Jack Perry
E. David Philley
Robert L. Reese
John V. Singleton, Jr.
Thos. F. Taylor
Howard Tellespen
Howard Terry

JASPER

Joe Tonahill

KINGSVILLE

LUFKIN

H. J. "Bubba" Shands

LONGVIEW

R. E. "Peppy" Blount

LUBBOCK

C. E. Fulgham

ROCKDALE

H. H. "Pete" Coffield

SAN ANTONIO

STAMFORD

A. M. G. "Swede" Swenson

TEXARKANA

Josh R. Morriss, Sr.

TEMPLE

H. K. Allen

TYLER

WACO

Joe Ward

WICHITA FALLS

R. O. "Dick" Harris

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

12 March 1967

Dearest Fido,

This is no way to write you after so impoverished a week of
letters to you, but there is really no alternative. I got back last night
at 7, Susan meeting me at the Taft, and after dinner I came back to the
office and picked up the week's accumulation of mail and notes of emergency
that would have to be met with this morning before I leave this afternoon
for Washington. So I have typed like mad, written a letter asking for a
draft deferment for a graduate student snatched out in the middle of his
preparation for his orals, sent off instructions to my accountant about the
challenge that has been made on my 1965 income tax, written a publisher's
report on a ms book of poems I read on the plane (which had to be in--the
letter here unexpectedly told me--in Michigan by the 17th, signed a slip
or two for the broker, and otherwise forced the morning to go at double
speed. I suppose Tuesday and Wednesday when I am back will be much the
same. We leave Thursday mid-afternoon by limousine for the plane and
Vienna, where we arrive at the Imperial Hotel Friday noon. It is on the
Ringstrasse I believe, but simply the Imperial should be enough.

Your letters were a great delight; I shall take them along to
Washington in the hope that I can drop you a second note tonight.

Romaine has written that she does not wish to have her memoirs
privately printed. I will send her note along but must answer it first. I
only hope the Smithsonian deal can be a reality. Poor lamb, how little she
realisez that her canvasses would not be at the Smithsonian if it were not
for Natalie. But what does it matter. Then there was a wonderfully happy
letter from Miss Bowra for whom just the right flat has been found. As Susan
noted, even her handwriting relaxed so it was readable. How very much indeed
both she and I owe you for this!

How marvelous it will be to see you.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

14 March 1967 (5:40 p.m.)

Dearest Fido,

I definitely do not recommend the direct Washington to New Haven air route simply because it is so non-direct. I went through the long day of conference meetings yesterday at the Smithsonian, and then in order to kill time until the plane left at 8:45 pm walked first to the Williard Hotel after 5 pm in order to have a place to sit, my room at the hotel being relinquished in the morning, and then joined the others of the Council for cocktails at 6:30 though I could not stay for dinner. At 7 the Secretary's car took me to the airport where I shortly borded the plane, dinnerless, and took off in the slight rain for the first stop at Wilmington where two passengers were let out. The plane was readied, the twin motors whirled their blades and we stayed put. And stayed. And stayed. We were waiting for the ceiling to lift before they dared risk the short runways. After a half hour in the plane (it should have left Wilmington at 8:45) we were told we might as well go into the airport waiting room and wait until the ceiling rose. The cafe was closed, the halls were empty, only the dark bar room was open, noisy with the sound of a juke box. I did have a two course dinner: first course a chocolate bar, second course a ten cent bag of nuts, both out of a slot machine. No news, no news. It was like our wait years ago in the Athens airport en route to Istanbul. Finally at a quarter past eleven it was announced that the flight was being scratched. We could stay at an airport motel and take the next plane to New Haven which would get us back today at mid-afternoon. Or the airline would drive us to New York, some 275 miles. And after New York, what?--I asked. How will you get us to New Haven. Will the car go on. There were new huddles about the six of us. Finally it was announced that the flight was being reinstigated, to the disgust of the stewardesses and the officers. So up through the lessening fog we went and arrived at Kennedy a little after midnite. There we went through more parleying, and eventually were put into a Lincoln limousines in which the three service men, two hotel men and myself and all our gear were piled, it being one a.m. by this time. Then, a little before 3 a.m. on the Connecticut Throughway on the bridge over Bridgeport the limousine blew a tire. The poor Portuguese chauffeur couldn't for a long time get the car up on his jack, and in any even none of us were keen on sitting in a parked car while the huge trucks roared by missing him and the car by inches while he finally changed the old one for a new. At any rate by the time he had taken us to the New Haven airport where my car had been left on Sunday, and one of the hotel men's car as well, and I had taken the other man to his hotel and gotten home it was 4 a.m. I got dutifully up at 7:15, went to the dentist, then to pick up your typewriter, then to buy books for the grandchildren for Easter, and film for the cameras, and then enterianed a visiting professor from Tasmania for lunch, and talked to another visiting professor from Kiel for an hour, and had a solid afternoon until just now with other interviews, and I must say I wonder if I can drag myself to the car to go home. To cap the day a girl at Brown who has done her dissertation on Hilda's poetry brought in the copy of it for me to OK for permission to quote, and the deadline for acceptance being (why?) March 31st, I shall have to sit up tonight to read it instead of going to bed, and all because she otherwise would not have her degree. But why, really why, can one have such demands made on one at such short notice?

Pray for me now and in the hour of my need.

N O R M A N

H O L M E S

P E A R S O N

2 3 1 H G S

Y A L E U N I V E R S I T Y

N E W H A V E N · C O N N

15 March 1967

Dearest Fido,

A real blizzard is developing outside (at 4:30), and Susan has phoned me from young Susan's to say that young Susan had gone to the Health Office with perhaps a broken rib, that the grandchildren didn't want to be left alone, (she had gone to deliver birthday and Easter presents), but she was terrified of not being able to get home in her car. I have called the Yale Health Office to see what happened to the rib, but most of them have gone and the answer has not yet been telephoned. --- Intermission! I phoned the Addisses to say I would relieve Susan, found that younger Susan had returned, pushing her frozen bicycle through the deluge, and all were drinking coffee together. I took a tranquilizer, and return to this letter to you. I enclose the letters from Romaine and from Horace's nurse. I phoned Horace this morning and found him in excellent spirits. I think there is no doubt but that he is making a real recovery. Not total, obviously, but a marked one. He is every day writing at his memoirs, and is now discussing his college years at Madison and how his mother taught him to read by doing poetry with him and making him learn Bryant's "Thanatopsis". Look it up in the Oxford Anthology; learning it would have been enough to turn me from poetry for life.

I am returning Romaine's ms to her, or rather it will go out shortly when I have left. I wrote her a note, however, and said I hoped David Scott's idea would please her. Actually I have a photocopy of the manuscript, the one I took to send to David Bruce. So at least it will have been preserved. Oddly, I like Romaine's pride. It must be what kept her going as a girl.

After thinking the matter over it occurred to me that the best thing to do about Catha and her father's manuscript was to write you a letter (which I also enclose) which you could simply send on to her if you thought best, or paraphrase as your own opinion if you preferred. I can readily understand that the ownership of the manuscripts is not so important to her as the books, and that she may indeed need the money. But I only hope that if she does get a decent sum for them (whatever they may consist of) that she will put this into some sort of investment rather than spend it on herself or on her friend or friends. I think she may well be thrifty in small things and spendthrifttfnalrangers. After all she is only human.

Do thank Elsie for her letter. I read it to Susan last night and we both warmed even more in our anticipation of seeing her and tasting her food. Mostly we don't have deserts here; -- just fruit or perhaps cheese. And after all, remember (a) that we will be desert-ful after Vienna, and (b) we come to Switzerland to enjoy Elsie's connoisseurship with fromages. This is something we can't have in the States, any more than you can fish in Switzerland.

Tigerli seems to be going through some sort of crise, perhaps because of our imminent arrival. The implications of her refuge within your pyjamas are a little alarming, considering her Swiss bourgeois background. Do you think she would profit from a few hours on the couch with me during my stay? This would be in the nature of a lay analysis. This is no doubt a difficult time of her with her, in addition to the difficulties of the season, and one could at least discuss a few of her problems in such a way as to make them catalytic. But I leave all this to your and Elsie's judgments.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

I congratulate you on your triumph with the Omega company and the watch face. Perhaps the Accutron people could do the same for you. I agree however that it might be a little heavy for you. The only objection I have to my own, which I otherwise dearly love, is the over-sporty face. A Micky-Mouse appearance. But I am now wedded to the idea of not having to wind it, and the fact that one can, or could, drop it without danger to the simplified works.

Delighted that Maitre Coigny will lunch with me. We speak in English, since that gives me the slight advantage I would not otherwise have with his alert mind.

I am now in the midst of answering yours of the 9th, 10th, 11th, and 12th which were here for me on Tuesday. There was none today, since by now I presume you are writing to Vienna. Do give Ines my birthday greetings.

Alice's death was not really sad; she was completely bedridden and found it almost impossible to get full time nurses. As a result she was often alone. Then Alan Stein's French widow and two children would not sell the pictures, as Gertrude had ordered in her will, and court proceedings against them had just been begun. Her friends had to support her, and Picasso gave $10,000. She had aroused the ire of the heirs by her sale of the Picasso drawings (not listed in the inventory but inscribed to Gertrude) and this did not help the situation. Like yourself, I loved talking to Alice, about cooking and simple things. With Gertrude it was not a matter of talking but of listening.

The snowstorm seems to lighten in intensity, which is perhaps God's fashion of blessing this letter to you by making it penaltyless.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

16 March 1967

Dearest Fido,

This final morning has been rather a hell. I could not get my car in the garage last night, and by morning 6-7 inches had fallen. But the man did come to plow in time for me to get to the bank and withdraw a little from the savings account to safeguard my checking account, and otherwise spend the morning in last minute desparations. I enclose the various papers concerning the typewriter, since these would improbably accompany a machine so shiningly new but my own. I only hope the Swiss won't make me sign for it, to release it on my departure. I doubt it. I rather liked the story of the demonstrators (50) who walked up to the platform at the National Book Award, while the leader cupping his hands to his mouth shouted, "Mr Vice President, we are burning children in Vietnam and you and we are all responsible." It wasn't that which I liked; it was Patrick's account that after having all marched out of the hall in protest, they returned to share in the cocktails.

18 March 1967

Dearest Fido,

We lunched this noon with Barsis. I phoned him earlier in the morning and this seemed to be the best arrangement. Between 2-3 each day is his resting period, and for the moment he does not drink because of his gout. Still, he is a youngish man. Obviously he is made for Vienna and its tempo. He works away at his book on the costumes of the common man from classical times to now; but, as he says, he works at it more or as thw whim seizes him and does not pretend to be scholarly. I told him of the Greenland clothing of which he had not known. He tells me that the Sachs papers, such as they are, are still in the possession of a doctor in South Dennis, Mass., but had no idea what disposition he would eventually be made. He seems to travel a good deal, to fit the seasons, but keeps his pied-a-terre in Vienna. We both found him excellent company, and will dine with him next Friday night at a nearby restaurant, "a Vinna joint" he calls it. Today's meal was with us.

We slept the long night through and the early part of the morning, trying to catch up. I in particular needed it. Today, being rainy and cold, there was no point in trudging back alleys, so we spent a profitable hour in the Kunsthistorischemuesum, especially the section devoted to the middle-age ivories and renaissance bronze and gold work. These are part of the Hapsburg collection and are superb. The German carvings are simply not found in the States. Then we took a quick look at the Rembrandts and Rubins and Cranachs. The rest we save for the

Wien I • Kärntnerring 16 • Postleitzahl 1015

Telegramadresse: Imperialhotel wien • Bankverbindung:

Postfach 278 • Telefon 65 17 65 • Telex 01/2630

Creditanstalt-Bankverein, Wien I, Kärntnerring 1, Kto. 50-14360

HOTEL IMPERIAL WIEN

19 March 1967

Dearest Fido,

It has continued to rain a good part of the day, on occasion turning to the edge of sleet and snow. So outside of going to see the horses at the Spanish Riding School this morning (they perform only on Sundays) we have not really ventured out. I had thought to return to the State Art Gallery, but they and all others are closed Sunday afternoons. Originally I had hoped we might go to Schonbrun but that was an idea the rain wrecked. So after a late lunch, Susan did her washing and I slept for an hour or more. I am still making up for that trip back from Washington. What a night that was. I forgot to tell you that as I was disconsolately leaning on my elbow at the airport counter I kept staring into a sign propped up in front of me: WE WANT EVERYONE TO EXPERIENCE THE BEAUTY, THE SERENITY, THE CONVENIENCE OF FLIGHT, it read. I turned it face down.

The ballet last night was interesting. First, one to early music by my late friend Paul Hindemith, "The Four Temperaments," a stylized choreography though I daresay somewhat old-fashioned by the true balletomane's viewpoint. Then a late 19th century musical skit about the Hotel Sacher -- a drop of Wiener blut primed with whipped cream which no New York opera or ballet would dare show, but no less fun for all that. I went across the street to the Sacher for supper afterwards, though I saw no Hungarian lieutenants or opera stars to match those in the ballet.

Tonight we go to Lohengrin.

Wien I · Kärntnerring 16 · Postleitzahl 1015

Telegramadresse: imperialhotel wien · Bankverbindung:

Postfach 278 · Telephon 651765 · Telex 01/2630

HOTEL IMPERIAL WIEN

20 March 1967

Dearest Fido,

Your letters of the 17th and 18th came today. NO, the weather has not been good for us; indeed it has rained off and on ever since we arrived, been cold, and the rain sometimes turns to snow. But we have been none the less busy for all that, and indeed this being March I had been spiritually forewarned. So today I took a car and driver anyhow, to tour the city and visit Schonbrun. The palace itself was comfortable enough with our coats on, but the snow kept us from any temptation to walk in the flowerless gardens. I liked the palace, which was restored in part to its 18th century roccoco, but otherwise was left in the comfortable bourgeois fashion of the Hapsburghs with overstuffed furniture and bad paintings of themselves at state festivals and coronations. The palace had been empty when I came during the Russian occupation, and we then could only walk in the gardens. Today it was the reverse, because a sudden snowstorm came up and whirled while we were inside. Later we saw the royal carriages - excellent designs from a modern point of view - and then sought out the orchid houses which we knew of through the International announcement Susan had had of an International Orchid Congress in May. They were not exciting, but a pleasant introduction to the grounds, Susan lipped talking to the chief gardener.

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NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

5 April 1967

Dearest Fido,

Really, one can hardly breathe for all the confusion. Certainly the best thing about coming back is the knowledge that one can still remember being away. We did so much enjoy our week at Kenwin, Elsie's good food and good humor, Inez's smile, and you for all of you. One feels that you let us, and me, belong. I feel too the privilege of it.

I really haven't quite caught my breath yet, and obviously things have still to be unentangled. My desk was piled high as one might have expected. I gripe a little about just how they were piled, but in a few days that won't matter. Your letter of the 1st was on top, however, to warm my heart. Just now the post has brought yours of the 3rd, but since it is chiefly about business I shall wait until tomorrow to answer it. And to resume the ennuie of daily life at the desk.

We arrived back safely after an uneventful trip in a not crowded plane so that the two of us could share three seats and spread our elbows. The winds were so high that we were flown just south of Nantucket and Martha's Vineyard and all the islands I used to sail mong -- the first time I have seen them from the air so clearly. But it was not thanks to Swissair. I do believe we are jinxed with that line. I solemnly stood in one of the crowds surrounding one of the Swissair desks at Geneva (no one tries to form a line) and finally after a quarter hour reached the girl. She took out tickets solemnly and then disappeared. When she finally returned after five minutes (the crowd behind me was howling) it was to say that, alas, I had never bothered to confirm my return flight. I assured you had done so by phone. She in turn phoned and they replied no, they had my name of course on the list but NO confirmation. There was only a half hour before flight time by then, and she suggested I might come back in 20 minutes and see if anything was available; and if not I could wait until just before the 2 p.m. plane and see if by some chance anything was available. Otherwise? -- a shrug was the answer. But standing behind her as I exploded was a Lufthansa girl who notice the Lufthansa paper folder that contained the tickets. Politely she said there was a plane she could perhaps getsus on that would arrive only a half hour after we had expected to ber at Kennedy. I said YES, YES, YES. I didn't want to be left standing without knowing what the future would be. She phoned, and soon all was well. We were flown to Frankfurt, after being led into the plane by special curties, waited there and hour, and then took off again. I judge it must have been a faster plane than Swissair, since it even so was only a final half hour later. And we caught the same businessine back to New Haven that we had reservations on as from Swissair.

The misunderstanding with Swissair was really my fault, because you had hung up the phone before I remembered the explicit instructions of my travel agency, always to gecord the precise name of the person who has acknowledged the confirmation. But it being your usual channels I thought all would be all right. Still, two out of three times to have had things gone awry is rather more in the way of odds than I like to gamble on. So I think it will not be Swissair in the future. Ironically, in yesterday's mail was a message from Dr Berchtold, the President of the airline: "I thank you for the sympathy and confidence which you

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

6 April 1967

Dearest Fido,

I went dutifully to the monthly meeting of the board of the International Studententer yesterday afternoon, after writing you, and then home to change my clothes in order suitably to take Susan to the Lawn Club for dinner and then to a concert by the Robert Shaw Chorale. Quite miraculously I kept awake, put off my sleeping until later in the night, and this morning have felt a little more rested. Next week will be intolerably filled, so I must feel fit for it. Today it rains and is cold; I only hope the London weather is better than here. In Susan's garden only one brave daffodil is in blossom, with a clump or two of white crocuses. We both wait for spring, and Switzerland seems tropical by comparison.

How very naughty it was of Tigerli to wander. Quite honestly I
wonder if a cat, like a dog, does not feel the uneasiness of departure in the
air. My dogs always sensed when some move was about to me made, though in
their cases the result was never to leave my heal, or if they disappeared it
was to be near the car. With Tigerli, my diagnosis would be that having felt
she was about to be deserted by Elsie she sought a kind of revenge by making
her desertion of Elsie take priority. And since Tigerli herself doesn't drive,
and indeed must dislike cars since they only take her to her convent, what
was more natural than that she should decide to leave by train.

I am glad your meeting with Coigny went well. He had said to me
he thought only a codicil was for the moment necessary. Also, as you agreed,
that one switched banks but a little later. My impression however is that he
now speeds up the transfer, so I am glad I told him I wished to trot at your
heels. As to the transfer I must say this is an unsolved mystery. If the date
of transfer was at the very beginning of 1966 then it would have preceded the
new will. It is all very devious. .... Many thanks for ordering the Madoc. The
Millais-Ruskin idyll (what an extraordinary person Ruskin was, and his parents
too. It was just the right sort of reading, between dozes, on the plane. I
have almost finished it, and should be able to do so this weekend if the weather
keeps bad. In the office I must start paying the monthly accumulation of bills.
Fortunately W arrived today (8 mil) so there will be a splendid sufficiency.

Yours of the 4th was even more pleasantly in the mail also. Glad
you had your last lunch with Marie Anne. Did you take her the cigarettes? As
to warning all possible sufferers, I think you must be careful. The temptation
is great, and one's instincts (like M-A's) lead one to spread the ill tidings.
But one spreads the shame as well, and even Maitre Coigny would not like that.
Better to be mum and merciful.

I note the book and will inquire at the Co-op. I stopped in briefly
to cash a check yesterday, but had forgotten my Co-op cards which I had left in
my desk for the trip. So could not order your Wilder. I shall do so tomorrow.
I had almost forgotten Bill Rogers' book on patronesses of our time. (I do agree
that the title is ludicrous, or at least ill-judged even if accurate enough).
You may recall that I refused to help him with it insofar as you were concerned.
We are good friends, he and I, but I tried to persuade him that it was one thing
to pay tribute to the dead, and another to put a spot light not on the donor but
inevitably on the beneficiaries. I had heard nothing from him since.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

You can imagine what my desk was like. Gradually I have been trying to answer letters like that from an English writer named Desmond Tarrant (of whom I had never heard) who can't understand why Yale won't give him a fellowship to bring him over to write a "much-needed" book on Hemingway. His title is *Hemingway: the Web and the Fly*, but I rather think Tarrant is toe web and I am the fly. I dutifully wrote two letters for him to foundations although I have not and will not read his book on Cabell which he says is so fine. "Without some such assistance I cannot carry on my research--and my book on Cabell will show that what I have to offer in this field is second to none... I do hope you can help--it does seem strange that a University as powerful and wealthy as Yale cannot do something about this?"

Another was for an Indian whom I have never met, who wanted to come to Yale with a fellowship to bring him here and support him for four years. Unfortunately he knew a friend of mine, Manning Hawthorne, was a cultural officer in India. For him too I wrote letters at his request in recommendation of his applications elsewhere. To my surprise the University of Washington accepted him (tho for one non-degree year, and with no financial assistance). Now he writes and says that I must persuade Washington to give him the money too. I feel like his unwilling guru.

I said goodbye today to Sister Bernetta, the Franciscan nun now off to see Pound. She said she reguarded me as her spiritual guide, she having found no one satisfactory at the neighborhood Catholic church to whom to make confession and receive counsel. So I am a kind of Papa after all, and you and Susan need not be smug about your joint motherhood.

Give my greetings to Ethel and Elsie and Betrie, and all love as always to yourself.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

8 April 1967

Dearest Fido,

I realise now that what I have needed was not more sleep but
an afternoon like this with no one in the office to interrupt me as I worked
at my papers. Mostly what I have done is pay first of the month bills, but
what a difference getting all those envelopes out of the way has made in
reducing the mass. It is a time of proxies also, and the annual reports that
accompany them take up even more space. Tomorrow we have to go out for luncheon
but I should be able to get in a solid morning's work notwithstanding.

No letter from you either today or yesterday, so I judge you will
have been as busy getting off as I have been in getting back. I did not write
yesterday. Most of the morning was taken up by having to take a visiting
professpr from Iowa around and arranging for him to use the library. He had
met me in Dallas while I waited between planes from Austin and to New York.
Said he had met me, or at least seen me at conventions. Well, I suppose it
is nicer to find your way around if someone takes you by the hand. Then two
professors came from the University of Connecticut to use the Hawthorne papers
and I had to take them over to my room in the library and settle them in. At
noon I had a lunch with a new committee for a Yale Historical series of books
on the history of the university. Then appointments and the telephone always
ringing, and at 3:30 until after 6 a meeting of the Graduate School faculty.
I didn't forget you, but I couldn't write.

I see by the way that the press reports letters from George Blake
as from Egypt. He is by now I should think safely with Kim Philby in Russia.
At least they ought to meet sometime and exchange experiences.

This afternoon I saw Cleanth Brooks and asked after the Hotsons.
He has been getting regular notes from Mary enclosing clippings on theology
or religious topics with little pedagogical explanations of their significance.
They had asked the Hotsons for Thanksgiving dinner but not seen them since.
Finally, he being out of town, his wife had bought a plant and taken it to Mary
on Holy Saturday. Mary did nothing to take the plant; finally Tinkum set it
down on the Hotson table. Mary sat down but did not ask Tinkum to sit, so Tinkum
sat anyhow. Then Mary went into an absolute tirade, laced Tinkum up and down
about the church, even after Tinkum begged and said couldn't they just be friends
and forget the church. No, Mary said, it was a matter of principle. And went
on. Leslie finally came out for a moment before Tinkum left. She said Leslie
looked very well indeed, but Mary looked terrible. Both Brooks and I agreed that
Mary has very likely become mental, and he wondered if this was not a repetition
of what perhaps has happened on earlier occasions elsewhere. Mary said the
rector must be dismissed, the vestrymen relieved of their duties; otherwise they
would never return to the church. Mrs Brooks, I gathered, has no intentions of
returning for another attack.

What a pity it all is.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

9 April 1967

Dearest Fido,

I have just put down the phone from talking to Horace. He seems in excellent spirits and more determined than ever to recover more strength. Dr Gara, his surgeon, has just written to say he can take about 30 steps with his walker, but what troubles Horace is that he must have his therapist help him to his feet. He seems much firmer into the idea of Medicare and proposes to go for three weeks to a New York physical therapy hospital for more intensive assistance. This would give Marya a change and breather, and I am all for it. Medicare would presumably help. My New York lawyer still says things are in the works, but I must say I am increasingly irritated by the delay in finishing the matter up. The Richardson book will be published in July; Horace had very kind words to say about the introduction to the British edition (which Rose had sent him), and Patrick says that Knopf is already receiving orders for their edition of *Pilgrimage*. In his memoirs he has now reached the period of art school, and says he has no problem in spending all the time he wants to at the typewriter. I gave him your love, and he asks me to return his to you. Joanna and the children were there for the day so I did not keep him long.

I work a little more each period of the day at my desk chores. I had a letter from Pantheon about the storage charges on the 500 unbound copies of Gandharan Art, for which I pay $40.00 annually. He has always tried to find a european publisher to use the sheets but without luck, and wanted to know if he should destroy the extra unbound copies. I said no, that we had not wanted to make money but only have the book available, and since a number are sold each year we would hang on for awhile. I hope you agree. We can always cancel as of next year, or even now if you think better.

Yesterday morning as I shopped, I bought a copy of the abridged *Secret Life* for you, and having wrapped it myself it now waits to go out in the post to Switzerland tomorrow. I doubt that you will revel in it, but the picture of the underside of Victorian life is extraordinary. You will turn the pages and dip into it perhaps from time to time. In one sense it is documentary rather than pornographic, but I doubt that it is anything for the Elsies to learn about England from. The publishing of this sort of thing in the States is quite extraordinary and I never thought I should live to see such things publically available. I bought another Victorian reprint nearby on the shelf, called *Venus in India*, the story of a British officer stationed there. It too has details of daily living in Dak bungalows that probably deserves looking at, but is more titillating than *My Secret Life*. Still, at my age I am safe from seduction by prose.

Have now finished all the back numbers of the New York Times and the New Haven Register stored for my return. I did notice the announcement of Mrs Blake's divorce which you told me of. The escape gave her the chance to sue for abandonment, rather a nice angle from which to approach. I read the papers chiefly for deaths, and there were some. Including our neighbor in the large house immediately to the East of us. I must now try to negotiate with his estate for the one foot I rent from him to save our hedge which encroached. He had planned to sell and told me, leaning over the fence, that he first wished to sell the foot to me.

All love,
NORMAN

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

10 April 1967

Dearest Fido,

This can be nothing but a report of confusion. I began the day
by going to the tailor to pick up my topcoat (the buttons having been securely
sewn back into place--you may have seen one dangling at Kenwin), and then to
the savings bank to deposit miscellaneous checks and tally the interest for
the first quarter, and then to the regular bank to cash a check and arrange for
a meeting on the 13th with the man who might just possibly sell me his interest
in the land at the shore, and then back to the office. I had been there earlier
and had to make long distance phone calls to discover for my little visiting profes-
sor from Iowa how one could go from Hartford to Farmington. This time I was
greeted by a phone call from my tax man who asked me to sit down to avoid undue
shock in being told that I owed $6,500 extra on last year's taxes and so must
make in addition to this a much larger initial payment on this year's. Alas,
for my reckoning I did not have the same high medical deductions as for 1965,
nor had I given as much in charity. I don't wish to have the former repeated
but perhaps I can take care of some of the latter by judicious gifts of mss
to the library. Then a telephone call from my brother informed me of the
death of a first cousin in Wetsfield Massachusetts, and we must go up for the
funeral tomorrow. I was always fond of her--she would be about 80 now --and
so go I must, although I have my appointment for a physical exam at the beginning
of the morning and must be back in time to introduce the speaker at the
undergraduate senior dinner at night. Then after the Pundit lunch an interview
with someone from Time magazine for two hours about what is happening in American
poetry, plus three other consultations, one man coming from Harvard, and now
I can do no more than write this, for the Iowan is here to be taken home for a
drink and then with Susan to the Graduate Club and then to a lecture by Robert
Lowell, after which Susan and I must go to a party for him.

Thus the sands of time drain from me, but I send, notwithstanding,
all love.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

10 April 1967

Dearest Fido,

Your Sunday letter of the 9th was waiting for me when I poked my head into the office after returning from the funeral in Westfield, Massachusetts. We started at 11, after my physical checkup (annual and routine) at the doctor's, made good time, and managed an unrushed lunch even though we had only ten minutes to spare at the church before the service began. I did cause Susan to smile while we were eating, by trying to review the rest of the week's schedule. Tonight the undergraduate senior dinner, tomorrow night dinner with the University Council's committee on the arts, Friday to the theatre to see the Weiss *Marat-Sade*, Saturday night two operas. Something is scheduled for Thursday, I said, but I can't remember what. Her answer: it's your birthday.

I was glad to have gone to the funeral. My brother and sister and the two of us were the only family to sit with my 82-year old cousin, brother of the Helen who died. He did, I think, appreciate it. But it was odd in a way; we sat in a room separated from the back of the church by a still another room. It gave privacy enough but awfully poor acoustics. One could hear almost nothing, and see less. After the service we went back to the Kittredhe home for a few moments, but this was sadder than the service itself. In the last few weeks he has given away almost every stick of furniture, books and pictures to neighbors or anyone who wanted them. His right of course, but Alfred mourned the family antiques (from our common grandfather's house) which have now passed out of the family forever. The bereaved really should always count ten.

Don't worry about Swissair. I purposely did not write about it until as of your being in London, so you would not be tempted to action. I hope you won't bother. Everyone will be sorry, and it will happen the next time.

What a pity about the cold. It has been equally frigid here, and we have had little but rain since our return. Nights it is usually below freezing, and almost no flowers have been brave enough to blossom.

Do tell Elsie that thanks to her fine meals I had gained five pounds while at Kenwin. My doctor was much pleased.

So glad you at least had a word with Frances Beney. It was stupid of me not to have asked. I shall be eager to hear the account of your visit to the oil slicks. But how fortunate that Scilly seems not to have suffered.

Now I must desperately try to think up something to say tonight when I introduce the speaker at the dinner. He is a former student of mine, Tom Wolfe, the one who writes the motley excited prose that makes him a favorite with the young. The Tangerine Colored something or other was his last book; his next one appears in June.

Our love to all, and mine especially to you.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

12 April 1967

Dearest Fido,

I shall be thinking of you tomorrow at Queenwood. That is, if I have time to think of anything. I shall not want to think again of today. I was scheduled to give a luncheon talk at Kiwanis (a parallel to the Rotary Club) to a group of business men from the community, and so spent the early part of the morning doing odd jobs at my desk, sufficiently distracted as usual so that I accomplished almost nothing. I had not worried too much about the talk since it was on Hawthorne's letters, and of course have my cards from previous occasions when I have given the same talk. So at 11:15 I went to the file drawer to take them out. Alas, for Old Mother Hubbard, the cupboard was bare. Nor did a frenzied and repeated search uncover them anywhere, though the fault is mine. I took them to Texas and brought them back. They must be somewhere. But where? Dispairingly I took a tranquilizer, hurried to the library, pulled out seven letters in full from those I remembered having selected, ppent three minutes of silent but intense prayer for the mercy of the Lord and of Kiwanians, and came back to meet the car which was to take me to the outskirts of New Haven and the restaurant where they ate. (Just the Kiwanians, not God.)

Well, I was lucky; the words kept coming; I was not held down by a script, and since it was only for thirty minutes and I could not in any event have used the more learned part of what I usually say -- the audience was not much the loser. They applauded and seemed pleased, and I was certainly relieved. But I must say I felt ten years older because of the extra pressure.

I forgot to write you that the Roman de Brut (the Wace) was here waiting my return. This is a different edition from the copy you gave me a few months ago (about which I wrote you) so that we now have the beginning of a small collection Maggs seems to have been more alert than usual in keeping their eyes open for the various editions.

Tonight I have to go to a meeting of the Arts Council of the University Council (rather, the Arts committee of the Council) and present sample undergraduates to MacLeish, Van Doren, Saarinen and the others. Dinner. Later I hope to be able to go home and read all of a doctoral dissertation, failed, about which the author comes to see me tomorrow.

Happy reunion!

13 April 1967

Dearest Fido,

Have hardly time than for a note, after a day that may have been
birthday but is hardly holiday. Your letter of the 10th arrived in the late
afternoon mail, for which my thanks. I was much interested about Philip's
reaction to THE incident. But more of this later. Marie Anne has already
written to Susan to thank her for the cigarettes, a very nice letter indeed.
It is such fun to have her for an additional friend in Switzerland, though
you and Elsie would be enough for normal mortals.

Spent the first appointment of the morning at the doctor's, and
am glad that he reports this afternoon that all blood tests and the like were
passed with pure colors. That is at least comforting. Then I went directly
to the bank to talk with the man who, with his sister, owns half of the land
I should like at Johnson's Point. We went over the various angles concerned,
and he will let me know, he says, perhaps tomorrow as to their decision.
Naturally I hope they will be willing. Several years will pass before the
estate of the 90-year recently deceased can be acted on (for neither his
mother's estate, nor his father's, nor his sister's, nor his grandfather's
has been settled. He was anxious to keep his fingers in control.) My hope
is that by owning half I can keep the estate from doing anything to the
property, and perhaps make it easier for the executors to persuade to sell
their half to me since I won;t sell mine to them.

Then back to the office where I told a girl whose dissertation
had been flunked, and who now teaches in New York, that she would have to come
back for six months if she ever hoped to get the dissertation rewritten in a
passable form. This was rough on her but only the truth. Afterwards I took her
to lunch and gave her a cocktail. Appointments steadily all afternoon, and I
have not even read my mail except of course for yours. (I was interrupted at
that point by a phone call to ask me at once to see visitors from Japan. I had
to say no, for we have asked the two girls and the two grandchildren for a birth-
day dinner and they arrive two minutes from now.

So I can only send all love, and my thanks for your love.

15 April 1967

Dearest Fido,

No letters from you on the 13th or 14th, but your birthday cable from Eastbourne came yesterday to confirm that you had safely arrived at the reunion (the cable read "Queenroad"), and I had indeed thought of your tea and the presentation of the school carnations and hoped that you and Petrie and Ethel had joined hands and danced in a circle as you celebrated.

This morning's mail did bring yours of the 11th with its report of your conference with the Arts Council, and I was immensely grateful for the detail with which you related the meeting. I am sure that it was an effective one, not only in terms of what Ronnie Edwards so well said but also from your own comments and indeed your own presence. I am in a way not altogether surprised that the Council toys with the idea of being itself a publisher. It is an immense tactical error of course (for if one thing, or anyone's thing, why not another thing or another's), but it is simply another step psychologically towards becoming a state authority. Moreover if they begin this, then the regular publishers will shuck off responsibility onto the shoulders of the Council, as publishers here for a long time did simply by saying "that's a New Directions type; let them do it!") Eric White, I imagine, fancies himself as a kind of literary commisar. I particularly liked Ronnie E's reminder about the tax situation for subsidies of this sort, or any sort. Publishers too will more and more look to the Council to sponsor conservative writers who can be developed into geldings for their own stables. That the Council should do a book like Painter's *Proust* is the height of absurdity. The only possible good thing is that younger writers in sheer desperation might turn into revolutionaries, but if this should come about it would be at no credit to the Establishment.

I am sorry about the daughter, not simply because she has married a starving clergyman but because of the sin of her pride. It never helped young Susan or her husband, but only made things worse. One can learn to accept without subservience, and a cleric's wife should be the first to admit the importance of the whole family rather than simply herself. Much interested too about the Alcott boy and his double-crossing. More than anything else one hates to be betrayed

I enclose a clipping about Marianne's latest prize. This is good news and will help her problems in adjusting to new rents and costs of living, but the profile is especially interesting to me since for the first time it explains the history of the mysterious father. So far as I know this is a biographical scoop. How terrible it must all have been for the mama. I wonder what happened to the father afterwards.

If you recall the account in The Times about New Haven, which I brought back with me, you will be interested that the Mayor had not seen it, that he was of course delighted, sent it along to IBM, and they in turn must have sent it to the United States News in Washington, for the latter is sending

a team of three reporters to the city to do a similar stopy for release
on this side. Even the local New Haven paper, as I discovered in leafing
through the issues saved during our holiday, gave a far less able coverage,
indeed only a few lines. Lee thought the Times reporter had done it with
real understanding of the implications and the innovation.

I spoke with Helen on the phone, and she is delighted with her
copy of January. I had had an invitation from her for a party at her flat
in honor of Uwe Johnson, but some one had left the date of the party off.
Only April, nothing more. Fortunately it is next Thursday night when I must
be in New York anyhow for a meeting of the Council of Learned Societies
on Friday. It is a great break for me, since Helen has been anxious to have
me see her home. I have also had a couple of invitations from the Stadel-
mayer's for their receptions following lectures at Goethe House. But I
really can never accept these and lose two days as a consequence.

In going over my desk this morning I checked a list of Henty's
offered by a New Hampshire bookstore, and found 19 I didn't have. Pre-
sumably most of these will already have been ordered by others, but I may
be able to get a few. Most of them were American first editions, but there
were a few English ones as well and one or two titles we didn't have at all.

My meeting Thursday morning with the owner of the land at the
shore seemed to have gone well as it occurred. But he told me he could
probably give me an answer yesterday by phone, and I have heard nothing
since. I only hope this does not mean the negotiations are terminated.
He asked what I would offer, and not being a real estate man I could do no
more than suggest half of the appraiser's suggestion for the whole. Per-
haps they want to check this by having another appraisal made. We shall
see.

Now I must go home to wait for the New York bookman who is coming
with several of the Elizabethans I had had repaired, plus one or two slipcases,
as for the Morris Kelmscott Chaucer which he thought should have its whiteness
protected. I will write again tomorrow.

Do give our love to Ethel and the Brigadier. You always have mine.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

16 April 1967

Dearest Fido,

Am just back from a Sunday lunch at home--an excellent soufflé worthy of Elsie--and had expected another leisurely and effective afternoon of quiet at my desk. But just before leaving I glanced at the tv schedule and saw that the *Peter Weiss Investigation* was being rebroadcasted at 3:30. It was put on last night, or rather Friday night when we were at his *Marat-Sade* in the theatre. So I shall run back to see the tv and crowd this letter into the space beforehand. Oh, if only you could see how awful my desk looks even now!

First, the weather report. It has been cold and drizzling more or less ever since we got back. People go about muttering. A few daffodils have finally decided to blossom anyhow, but their stems are short and the pdtals puny. Susan's flower show comes on Thursday and she is in despair to have anything horticulturally to exhibit. Others will presumably be in the same situation, but the show itself is likely to be dreary.

I had just finished your letter yesterday when Susan phoned to say that Mike Papantonio, the bookdealer was there at the house. He had brought back the Kelmscott Chaucer for which I had a slipcase made, as well as for the volume of Glapthorne's five plays with its special binding for Charles II. I had also had a case made so that I could discreetly put on the shelves the costly volume of painted pornography presented me so sedately in Japan.

When he was here before we had discussed swapping some of the duplicate copies for other titles that would fit into and enlarge the collection. One of the best was the second and inferior copy of Webster's *The White Divil*. One, as I told you, was the nile green Shakespeare folio Edith had, 92nd folio); the third was the third copy of the 3rd folio, identical with but inferior to one of the other two.

For the *White Divil* he proposed my taking a fine quarto of Webster's *The Devil's Law Case*, to fit with the other. Much to my amazement the copy had Herring's bookplate in it (the Greenland one). So it is back where it started from. Mike wanted to know who this Herring was, since so many fine books with his bookplate had been on the market, but dealers had not known him as a collector. It really is a marvelous copy. You chose well. Then there is another first edition of a quarto, this one Dekker's Second Part of the Honest Whore. We already had Part I, so this completes. Then the 3rd quarto of Shakespeare's *Pericles* and the 2nd quarto of Shakespeare's Merry Wives of Windsor. One can hardly put one's hand on a quarto Shakespeare in any edition, so these seemed sensible and to your taste. Then a 1637 quarto of a play by George Wilkins called *The Miseries of Infor$$ Marriage*. And as a salute to womanhood, *The Tragedie of Marian, the Fair Queen of Jewry* (1612) the only book published by Lady Carew. [Elizabeth] I wonder if she was an Petrie's family? There were also two later quartos of B&F to help fill out the runs of them thru 1700, and there is still some credit left over. I hope

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

all this is agreeable to you. I did not want to sell anything for money,
but an enlargement of the collection does seem to make sense, and all these
Short Title Catalogue items grow scarcer and scarcer.

Last night we went to Jonathan Edwards College to hear two Puccini
operas performed by the Curtis Opera Company of Philadelphia. <u>Il Tabarro</u>
and <u>Gianni Schicchi</u>, both very well done and of particular interest since
the leading tenor was a boy I had known as an undergraduate here. He has
been singing two years in Milan, then three years with this company, and
in the Fall goes to Stuttgart on a Fulbright with the hope of singing German
roles there. He has a good voice, though at the moment he forces it into
an occasional under-rasp, and he is handsome in a pretty boy way, though
his vote seems to be immobolized into a smile.

<u>Marat-Sade</u> somewhat disappointed me, though perhaps it was the per-
formance rather than the play which threw me off. Being a madhouse everyone
began by being moudly mad. As a result there could be no change of pitch
or tone for the entire evening; and even in the movements no change from
swirling and twitching. One got rather early the allusions to our present
world, and Sade's attitude towards history was clear from the beginning.
So Charlotte Corday's knife, guided by his hand, descended rather too
slowly for my taste. Still, I was interested.

I spent the morning with the usual letters of recommendation (how
delighted I shall be next year not to have to write them!), and paying of
bills, Horace's nursing bill among them. His nurse keeps me posted by little
notes she sends with the account. As of the 11th she wrote "In order to
celebrate Mr Gregory's birthday we all went in to have tea with Mrs E.E.
Cummings. We spent a delightful afternoon with her. Mr Gregory seemed to
have managed well and did not appear too exhausted when I left him at 7 pm
tonight. He was very interested in seeing all the new buildings that are
shooting up all over Manhattan, and despite all the changes in the city he
says he gets quite homesick for it." I had forgotten that his birthday on
the 10th was so near my own.

Do toss the two enclosed clippings. But I do think the little girl
was rather short-changed by the publishers in the particular title they have
her. Altho there is a certain basic publishing verity, as the Council would
admit, in "How Money and Credit Work for Us." But for a 6th grade student!
The account of the fire will remind you of your visit there with me to see my
mother. One always feared fire, and she certainly could not have been led
out. How awful for the old dames, and where will they find another place to
go?

All gretings to Ethel and the Brigadier, and all love to you.

22 April 1967

Dearest Fido,

So many days have passed since I last wrote you that I
can only blush with the shame of my silence and console myself that
at least this will be waiting for you at the first time that I could
in fact have been read by you during your scattered travels. What
a good trip for you this seems, however, to have been, and if ever
you were without the need of letters this must be the time. And if
ever I had the need not to write this has been the time too, although
as of this week things should begin to quiet a little. Every night for
the past fortnight I have been out one place or another, and I had
my usual days full of appointments as well as the meeting in New York
to prepare for. My desk is still full. I have a lecture to give
Monday morning (and to prepare for still), and more letters that must
be written. But I must not let this day go without sending you my
love and a letter.

Let me begin in a kind of haphazard way, with some of
the oddments I have been storing by my typewriter to mention to you.
First of all, of course, come my thanks for the stunning birthday
gift. A note from Roy Phippen preceded your letter from Ethel's
which explained the handle in more detail. I am excited to see it.
I always trust your real enthusiasms, and of course you are perfectly
correct to feel that it is far better to stick to Ghandaran and
Etruscan than to scatter one's interest all over the place. And since
what is mine is yours I have the extra pleasure of knowing that you
care for it.

Another note reminds me that I have had the Wilder novel
and Jan Yoor's *The Gypsies* sent to you am Kenwin. I looked at the
Yoor and was fascinated by the idea; the Wilder book may not really
be your cup of tea, I should judge, but you ought to have dipped into
it at least. I understand that he is a little disappointed by the
critical reception, but then the reviewers have never really gone for
his work anyhow. Still, I wonder if it will not get him the Nobel
Prize at last, and I am sure it will be sold like hotcakes. And sell
like hotcakes too.

When you are home again, note the TLS for April 13 whose
front page review begins with Urzidil's *Da Geht Kafka*, and on p 310
has a review of Quayle's *Ballantyne*. By chance I had already ordered
it from Blackwell, out of the adnaced spring list, before you spoke
of sending yours to me. If you don't want to keep it, two copies will
be useful--one for the collection and one for me to mark. But if you
think you'd like to have it at your elbow even after writing Quayle, do
do so. I wonder if his bibliography will ever be published? If it does
he spoke once of wanting to sell me his collection, but I daresay he'd
want the skies.

I liked what I saw of the French Studies *Structuralism* volume

2

that I bought a copy for myself. I believe over 2000 copies have so
far been sold. Quite an achievement for an issue of a periodical.

Wednesday night Susan and I are to have dinner with the head
of the Yale Press and the Ingstads, who have been working on the Norse
site at L'Anse aux Meadows in Newfoundland. The next day she gives an
illustrated lecture on their excavating. I've never been completely
sold on their site but perhaps I shall be convinced. Because they have
never actually published their scholarly report, no one really quites
knows the evidence involved.

Earlier today I sent off another letter, still another, to the
New York lawyer working on Horace's medical bills, about a new one
from the surgeon who has not been paid since last summer. The lawyer
asked me not to, but leave it to the insurance. Yet he does not get
the insurance companies going, and I feel considerably embarrassed.
Unpaid bills are completely against my training.

Earlier in the week too, I went to the banks and transferred
$2,433 from your savings account, and $191 from Hilda's to pay your
appropriate shares of last year's tax bill. This was 48% of the
sum of royalties and the interest on the saving's accounts for the
year. The rest came from my own savings account to pay the excess
tax and the first payment for next year. Now I must face the
Treasury Department's investigation into my taxes for 1965, a notice
of which I have just received. The point in question is whether or
not I can charge Susan's practical nurse as a medical expense.
Trained nurses are not questioned, but the cheaper practical nurses
are. We shall see.

Today I suppose I should regard as a kind of banner, since I
learned for the first time this morning who my two successors in adminis-
tration are to be. The chairman will be a Sydney Alhstrom, a professor
of intellectual history who has been associated with the program for a
number of years. He has a good reputation and is certainly a good man
and one can trust him in handing over the reins. The new director of
graduate studies will be Prof. Charles Feidelson who at least has been
for some time on our executive committee, is a well-known specialist in
American literature, and a good hard-headed if somewhat dour man of
standards. The program will lose no caste with either of them, and altho
the administration hasn't quite faced up to certain future problems of
an enlarged staff, these men can try to cope with that and no doubt can
be more persuasive than myself. I can't tell you how relieved I am,
even though I was rather slipped the news by the Dean of the Graduate
School, since the chairman is appointed by the president who hasn't yet
told me. The Dean also began to plan for my new office and showed me at
least one small but two-roomed apartment in the graduate school tower I
could have. There is a somewhat larger one on the 8th floor for me still
to see, tho this presents some problems of access. One can get to it only
by a locked elevator which means one has always to descend to let visitors
in. But the problem of space for books and filing cabinets is an immense
one. The Diamonds I think I shall have to take home; I really can't ask

3

Yale to provide an extra room simply for them.

My visit to New York was a pleasant one. Chiefly I went for
the all-day meeting Friday of the American Studies Committee of the
American Council of Learned Societies. We were giving grants to
British, Irish, and European candidates for Fellowships. But this
did give me the chance to go to Helen's party on Thursday for Uwe
Johnson and the publication of the translation of Das Dritte Buch
uber Achim. It was small and very nice party. Helen always did
these well, being careful to ask only a few whom she thinks will
get on well with each other -- and no press. Maria was there,
Anne Lindberg, Elizabeth Mayer, George Steiner, several from the
office, etc. Most of them seemed to know me or of me, so that I
didn't feel waiflike. I really liked Mrs Lindberg; she has enthusiasm
and warmth, and couldn't stop talking about you and her admiration
for you. And your smile. We both agreed you were beautiful, if that
surprises you. We had a couple of conversations together. I liked
Johnson; he is like a big puppy, with a kind of confident modesty.
We spoke a little about his book, and why he had not revised it
after five years for this publication, and agreed that a writer
did better to look ahead than retrace his own past. Otherwise we
just talked, and went on talking at dinner -- for I took him and
Elizabeth Mayer and two other Germans (a couple) who were friends
of hers and knew that I had brought her psychiatrist husband over
from Germany in the 1930's. But I had forgotten, until Elizabeth
reminded me by telling Johnson and them just how I did it. William
had to have a guaranteed job before he could get his visa, but could
get no job with an interview and discussions. I must have had an
illumination, for apparently what I did was to have it certified that
because of my health and psychiatric strain I needed a personal
physician. So he came as that. I wonder if even the Rockefellers have
a really personal physician? But it can't really have fooled anyone,
and I imagine it worked by satisfying the letter of the law. Actually
he did stay two months with me before he found the job with accomodations
for himself, his wife and four children.

Thursday afternoon I had the movies of my lungs taken. It
was an interesting experience to stand before a fluoroscope with a
camera behind it and a monitor at the side into which the camera-man
doctor and my own specialist peered as they took the film. My job was
breathe deeply in and out, and turn in one direction or another as though
I were modelling hospital gowns. But when I turned in one particular
direction I could always see myself in the monitor. It is awesome to
see one's own lungs twitching away, though actually I could understand
little or nothing. As for the doctors, all goes too fast for them to
understand either, which is the reason for a film which can be run at
slow speed and played and replayed. Next week the team of five specialists
will huddle like football coaches watching the rerun of a game, and see
if they can devise exercises that might help. If they can't they will
discuss whether drugs can help. Never having had drugs used on me I am
supposed to be in a lucky position for experiments now. I feel quite like
a Narcissus.

All love, and infinite thanks
Yonm

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

23 April 1967

Dearest Fido,

Another windy and chill day, though the temperature is 50°F and the green begins to show on the trees. At least there has been less temptation to work outdoors and I have spent the day in the office at my desk instead. Indeed I shall come back tonight after dinner and try to work up a gift lecture to the undergraduate lecture course on American history. On writers in the 20's and 30's. Doing it this way, I can keep things in mind until I speak at 10 tomorrow morning. Like keeping a stew warm on the back of a stove. My desk is far from clean but it is at least a little cleaner, with a few more tasks lifted from my conscience.

I begin to uncover some of the notes which I drafted as aides memoires for the happy day when I could pick up my correspondence with you. And I am making a little pile of oddments to send you by surface to Kenwin. One for example is the notes used by the lecturer on the Syro-Hittite pieces, which I could not send in time for you to give Phippen. I have an extra duplicate set which I can send him if he is interested, but I don't know that the son is. Do toss yours when you have glanced at them. Then, xeroxing being increasingly cheap -- five cents a page now-- I had a copy made for you of Needham's account of his Tibetan adventure. It is rather like a schoolboy's but interesting because by him. This is for you to keep or toss as you prefer. There is also an offprint of an article by professor Pope which he dug up for you and asked me to send, answering questions you had asked. He said he didn't know how to answer more briefly than by what he had written, so I suggested you would be interested in the whole affair. My sense of thrift keeps me from sending all these by airmail.

I do however enclose a letter from the Danish National Museum with a proposition for Greenland which should intrigue you as much as it does me. When Susan saw the Greenland trips proposed by the Danish travel agency both she and I were ready to give it up, for the week's program is pedestrian indeed. But with the offer of our own boat and guide the opportunity becomes one in a million. We can see Gardar and Brattahlid (which was part of our original intention) and then do what I have always wanted to do: go way in the Eriksfjord to the other settlements, feel the fjord as Erik did, walk over the hills behind Brattahlid. It will not be rugged and we can be together and alone as is appropriate. We will not be roughing it, but simply living plainly at the hotel. I go on my knees to you to say yes for this in combination with the exhibition. You can have this and your cruise on the yacht too. It will be our last chance to finish our arctic adventures.

I enclose also a letter about Romaine, though I am left a little bewildered by it. I have not answered it yet, but when I do can say no more than that one must have some idea of what amounts will be involved. catalogues are almost as expensive as books, because of the plates, and I don't want to go into something out of all proportion to Romaine's status as an artist or writer. For the Barneys to do it is one thing; for us really to sponsor it is another. But I daresay in time we shall have more information to go on.

I was rather surprised, and pleased, yesterday to get the account from Grove of royalties on Hilda's books from July to December of 1966. The total was for some $222.00, the largest amount I can ever remember except when a new book

2

appeared. 356 copies of Selected Poems had been sold, and 234 copies of Bid Me to Live, And 191 of Helen in Egypt. At long last my campaign for her recognition is beginning to take hold, and my hunch is that she will soon be the focus of much critical attention. The word is going around, besides which is the fact that almost everyone else has been written to death about. I hope it pleases you as much as it oes me, not for the royalties but for the copies in peoples' hands.

The news seems full of interesting events. Stalin's daughter's arrival in the States with the manuscript of her memoirs in her hot little hands, and Life and Time standing there to take it from her. Then I am fascinated by the newest U.S. moon rocket with its robot shovel busily at work digging ditches in the green cheese. And finally of course all of the difficulties in Greece. My sister Eleanor and her husband arrived in Athens the day before the seizure of power, and I wonder what has happened to them. Not that they would be in danger, but it is rather a pity to have their first holiday of this sort blocked by tanks in Constitution Square.

But there has been your own news too, of what I think must be one of your most interesting and enjoyable holidays. I have the letters piled before me. The interview with Abercrombie must have been satisfying if only to see Ronnie sweep the boards. If nothing else you may have caused them to think twice before they themselves go into the publishing racket. # How sad that Mr Fall has such a heart condition at 45. Sad as it is for Kenneth, or would be for some one like myself, we two at least have doubly crowded lives behind us. His might have just begun. # Wish I might have been with you when you visited your old home. Perhaps I should go some time, with my camera. It should be somewhere in the archives. The hotel itself sounded very modern indeed, for I am now assured that everyone lives in distinct age-group neighborhoods. Certain ones take nobody under sixty; others only those between 20-30, and so it goes. Eastbourne is no exception. Your reunion dinner and gathering seemed to have gone off well, as I also hope Petrie's talk did. All, I gather, is now in order for the printing of the book. Much worse could have happened to Queenwood than to have been taken over by the Training School. I am not surprised that your old schooldogs sniffed you up and down. People are as frightened at the stain from the lifted pen as from the lifted leg, but you have left the best of all marks. I shall be eager for a copy of the interview, and if I cannot have an original than get Coigny to have a xerox made. # Your letter to Helen about the Secker visit was excellent. She was most grateful for it, when I saw her on Friday. An excellent review of Achim on the first page of today's *NYTimes*. I was much impressed by him and his winning seriousness. It is amazing to think of him as only 32, except that he looks even younger. # The cost of the Ghandaran storage comes out of our account with random House. So in a sense you already have paid the costs. # And I was especially pleased that you could have been of help to Hope Muntz. She is obviously "serious," had her fling of success and now settles in. Her discovery sounds exciting. Poor Cousin Jack, I am sorry. You must take extra pains with him now. He feels old and lonely. Do let him eat steak. Yet today 74 is hardly old, it is only ripe. I much admire your expedition to Aldermanbury. Much interested that there should be a paperback Young Carthaginian. I shall keep faithfully. No word as to the result of my order of the Hentys last week. One hopes for the best. # I trust you gave my greetings to O.B. and Max. I like them both. Probably I owe them a letter. My last letter from you was as of the 18th, nothing came in yesterday but I shall hardly expect much during your Cornwallausfluf. I can hardly wait to see the Etruscan handle. I wonder if they sent airmail or by surface. Sometimes they do the former as being safer. Next week should be a good one, with your Cornwall letters arriving. All love as always,

Norman

VILLA KENWIN
CHEMIN DU VALLON

1814 BURIER-LA-TOUR

VAUD

24 April 1967

Téléphone: Burier 51 37 97
Please note telegraphic address:
Kenwin, Vevey

Dearest Fido,

I send this sheet only to strut my thrift. It seems somehow to have
been with the various papers I brought back from Kenwin, and nothing could be more
appropriate than to return it to you in this fashion.

Yesterday afternoon, after the office, we went to the home of Henri
Peyre, the Frenchman whose articles you may have read in the French Series, for
cocktails, it being too cold and windy for his terrace so we crowded together inside.
Much of my afternoon's cocktail conversation was based on the Structuralism issue
and especially psychoanalysis as in Miel's article. One young instructor seemed
very up indeed on the literature of the French school, and our only dispute was over
his admiration for Anna Freud. After dinner I went back to the office to begin to
prepare a lecture I gave this morning to an American history class, on writers in
the 20's and 30's, but I was too tired to do more than copy a few possible quotations,
and went home to bed. God was however gracious to me this morning and I was ready
by 10:10 with what at least filled the hour with idle talk, so that now this is off
my shoulders and I can settle a bit in.

What wretched weather we are having! It has been snowing all morning, and
altho it has stopped now, and there is none on the ground, we are n evertheless
unseasonably chilled. Susan moans for her daffodils and the flowered shrubs that
have not quite yet blossomed.

Your letters of the 19th and 20th were in this noon's mails. I'm pleased
you liked the idea of exchanging the books. I was surprised to get such good
additions, considering the state of the market. But at least it indicates a few
things available to a dealer who keeps his eyes open. What a good trip you must
have had with Lady V and Foy. I should much like to see them both again, and hope
the flowers were gay. Do have her send along a copy of her new book; I am not hopeful
but of course cannot know until I have read it. As you say, she is rather local
for an American audience.

Am eager to know what you think of the Ballantyne book. Still no word
about the Henry's but perhaps that means he did not have to write to say they had been
s old. Today's mail brought a long list of various readings from Brimmell but I have
not had time to check.

Wish too I might have seen you with Stephen Lewis and Marjorie. Is this
the first time you have seen her since the stroke? I have a feeling it is. Also, I
rather agree with Hilda Quick about the birds; they seldom quite get the natural oils
back again after a bath in the stranger oils of man.

I enclose a clipping about the history of spy stories which I thought
might interest you. The reviewer worked for me during the war. You might yellowback
some day. As I wrote him, no reason not to mention Graham Greene as having had
practical experience.

Will not risk a letter to the Sesame after this, but will be on your
desk to embrace you at Kenwin.

25 April 1967

Dearest Fido,

I am just back in the office after hearing Adrienne Rich read her poems -- fortunately in a room down the hall -- and write while waiting to take an Indian, Prof. B.J.Rajan home for dinner. One would naturally be happy simply to eat alone and do some work; but he and his wife entertained us in Delhi, and the proprieties must be observed. And as he said on Saturday when I took him to lunch, "I shall only be here until Friday."

Your letters of the 20th and 21st arrived together this afternoon, really in quite good time considering that they came from Cornwall. It seems strange to think of you as about to return to London and then to Kenwin -- the point at which I welcome you home.

My many thanks for the Brigadier's greetings. I shall be writing to send him some stamps he had asked for some time since. It is sad to read about the slick at Prthleven and Gunwalloe. It will take at least another winter's storms to clear the beaches and there will be trace in the bordering grasses for a year or more. A shore does not take kindly to insults of this kind and harbors its resentment.

I was pleased to learn about Bryan and that he goes to Canada rather than to the States. If he should come here we would of course like to see him. Perhaps if he is really qualified to do a PhD it would be wise for him to borrow to do so. But I think he would manage if the drive is really there. It might be a good idea, he not being very old, to work for a year or so and then go back to his studies. One can study for too long a stretch. Alan's case still worries me a bit. He may well have had bad teaching but the problem isn't just that. Emigration won't solve his problem unless he gets a skill.

I was upset to hear about the death of the Russian astronaut, but I suppose it really is remarkable they could have carried out so many flights on both sides without more deaths. Eventually it had to come, and I suppose will continue.

I fear for your sanity when you look at the piled desk. Be brave!

26 April 1967

Dearest Fido,

I was much amused when your letter of the 23rd arrived in this afternoon's mail to find you writing, as I had done in my last but one, on Kenwin paper. Why should we have to excuse each other's thrift!

I am glad your trip with Phyllis started off so well. There must be nothing quite like the moors at this time of year; I remember even the glimpses we had of them together a few years ago in spring. Your voyaging has really netted a good many rewards in the way of good visits, and from Mrs Boys to the Lancasters they will all have been grateful to you for coming.

Emigration would make great good sense even to me if things don't quiet down and level off before long. I feel like an emptying hour glass.

I started today by going to the Customs Office to collect an oil painting by Venton Welch (Jocelyn's friend) which I bought from Bertram Rota as a means of showing my interest in him if he would keep his eyes open for me. I get along very well with the customs people and I was glad that they turned it over to me without any duty. What surprised and pleased me more, however, was that while I waited several of the postal clerks came up to talk about the Syro-Hittite pieces they had seen when I collected the group last summer. And one of them wanted all information about the way dates were determined from the various layers in ancient dried lakes. Another had become involved in Egyptian antiquities and was busy reading about them. My hopes for the postal system increase, so far as personnel are concerned -- but perhaps in going after slowly delivered pieces of mail they feel they are already archaeologists.

I was sorry to learn of Islay's mother's newest setback. Only I am glad she is in no condition to return to La Vagnola. I really think this would be the death of both Kenneth and Islay. They will have their hands full as it is with the new Kushy. Does the London Library do the sort of research Islay wants. I fear he may have his sights set too high. His mind seems to have turned for the moment from writing fiction.

Your royalty check from Harcourt for the six months ending last Dec 31st has come, the total being $2,142.17 (2,127.37 for hardcover; 14.80 for paperback). *Carthage* has sold 345 copies; *Artemis*: 23; *Av alon*: 307; *January*: 4,498. 296 copies were sold of the paperback *Carthage* (interesting that it was outsold by the hardcover edition.) So you continue to flourish.

Tohight we done with the Ingstads. I hope there are no Viking fights.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

27 April 1967

Dearest Fido,

Still another cold drizzling day. Really, there is no reason
even to think about spring. However Susan did dry out a daffodil blossom
for me overnight and it makes my desk gayer than it is outside the window.
No letter from you today.

Last evening's dinner with the Ingstads was pleasant, and I
am trying to get to her lecture on the Newfoundland dig later this afternoon.
I can at least start this, however, now. Susan talked for awhile with Mrs
Ingstad about the site. It is apparently true that only the spindle whorl
was found on the last day of the second expedition. And what foundation
walls remain are so badly crumbled as to be negligible. One does wish
they would come out with their scientific report rather than the various
popular books about it and the Vikings in general. Ingstad himself was
rather dour in a Scandinavian way, hates all Danish archeologists except
for Vebaek -- especially Melgaard and Larsen. But one knew this already.
All Danes hate all Norwegian archaeologists. Each group calls the other
"unsound." I did not discuss Ingstad's own dig with him, but we did talk
Greenland and Brattahlid. He and his wife spent one summer crusing along
the south, and confirms that it is wonderfully interesting to go further
in the Eriksfjord and the Viking settlements in the whole complex of
settlements. This can be done with the Museum boat. But I only hope I
haven't stirred up a hornet's nest. He had read much about the Museum's
restoration work on Brattahlid but had never heard my name mentioned as
making it possible. I had taken the plans and pictures of the restoration
so he believed me, but seemed to feel it unforgivable to have given
public acknowledgement. I said presumably they would some time, and pre-
sumably they will. I really don't care. I only fear he will spread it
over Scandinavia as a means of attacking the Danes. I was in rather a
pickle because he had asked if I requested silence. I said no I had not,
for he had me both ways. If I had requested silence and then the Danes
did speak of it this summer it would have seemed like a reverse treason.
Anyhow they are certainly grateful enough in their letters, and the chief
delight is in having the goal achieved.

----At that point I had to quit to go to the lecture, at the
Geology lab, so I had to drive, and would have been late if the operator
of the projector had not been later. It was very interesting, and I feel
somewhat less hostile as a result. There did seem to be some hearths
in the eight house sites, but when archaeologists dig out the outline of
houses it usually seems to me that they cut them to suit their ideas. She
spoke of iron chips and the like, impossible to have been made by any but
Norse, and of course there was that one spindle whorl discovered on the
last day of the second year's dig. One's suspicions always rise about
such good fortune, and it might have been better not to have
found it at
all. Still, although I have no desire to make an expedition to Ansow Meadows,
I am glad I did to the lecture.

Most of the day went into drafting a letter to the Yale Alumni Magazine, more or less at their request and that of the International Student Center, correcting an undergraduate's references to it in an article in the magazine on the foreign student at Yale. He seemed to think that the ISC was set up Yale rather than by the community, and credited Yale's International Office with carrying out functions which the ISC actually does. I did work at it, the matter of tone being so important.

Otherwise about all I did in addition to the usual appointments with students was to check a list sent by Brimmell. We had good luck. One by Herbert Hayens, The Emperor's Doom (about Mexico); Stables: The I$$and of Gold, and For England Home & Beauty; Fenn: Jack at Sea, The Dingo Boys, A Dash from Diamond City, and Patience Wins; H.D.Adams, The Hunter and Trapper in North America; Kingston: Great African Travellers, and Happy Jack; Brereton: Kidnapped by Moors; J.C.Hutcheson: Crown & Anchor: AND TWO HENTYS: Bears and Dacoits (1896) and By Pike and Dyke (1890) of which we did not have a first.

A long letter came from Quayle, in which he proposes to sell his Ballantyne manuscripts. "There are ten full length book manuscripts, including two unpublished, plus the incomplete manuscript of the book he was working on when he died in Rome in February 194. In addition, there are thirty-two manuscripts of short stories, both published and unpublished, some of which have been started but not finished. They range from his earliest days as a writer until shortly after his death." "In strict confidence, I can say that two London dealers have inspected my collection and I now value it at £4,500. (This is 25% more than the highest offered and just over 33 1/2% more than the lowest, but I know that if I disposed of my collection to either of them it would later appear on the market priced at double the figure I sold it at." He is right about the 100% increase on the open market, and a Ballantyne manuscript offered for sale on this side a few months ago was priced at $1,650. I really don't know. Obviously they would make the collection not only important but incomparable. His collection of books he does not include, and would presumably want to sell later, after his bibliography. I think I at least ought to ask him what the titles of the manuscript are.

Must dash now to a Fellows' dinner at Jonathan Edwards College, and then to an American Studies graduate student club meeting.

28 April 1967

Dearest Fido,

The sun has not come out yet, and it has been blowing a mild gale. But it is not raining, and fourour smallest blessings we give thanks. Last night was a long one. I left the Jonathan Edwards Fellows' dinner in time to go to my American Studies meeting, and walked with a fellow Fellow who was going to a Peabody Museum Associates meeting where the Helge Ingstad was to tak on Viking ships. How clever of a couple, I thought, to get two fees in the same family on the same day for lectures. But i didn't give them sufficient credit. This morning a lady from the Yale Press, who

29 April 1967

(At that point I was interrupted by the arrival of a young English don from Cambridge who was to give a lecture on Malamud and whom I was to introduce.)

had been at Mrs Ingstad's talk phoned me about another matter, and I mentioned the evening lecture since I knew she was to dine with them after the afternoon one. She groaned a bit, since what in fact happened was that Ingstad himself gave almost identically the same lecture with almost identically the same slides. I judge from what she said in addition to having had enough, and slipping out of the evening reception, was the the man is really a half adventurer with his wife the only one who knows anything about the science of archaeology. Anyhow I enclose a clipping from last night's New Haven paper which might interest you. You can slip it into a yellowback sometime.

This morning has gone with another talk with the Dean of the Graduate School and a long, long telephone call from Hartford from the resident director of the Mark Twain Memorial who wanted me to influence a national tv chain to change the hour when they showed a film on the Memorial, from afternoon to evening. I really can't do a thing. Alas, the husband of the woman who wrote on Suzy Clemens died of angina Saturday in South Carolina while they were on a vacation, so I must go up on Monday for the funeral. At 2 o'clock which will use up that day. But I know them both quite well and want to go.

No letter in from you today, but there are sure to be a couple on Monday. Alas, they have announced that as of Monday, May 1st, airmail rates to you increase to 20 cents per half ounce.

The package of Henty's came from the New Hampshire bookshop and I got eighteen of the nineteen I ordered. This is the largest single addition to the Henty's we have had for several years. I feel very pleased about that.

I feel pleased too that the government has accepted my income tax return for 1965, including all of the bills for the practical nurse I had for Susan's broken hip. This is the advantage of having a professional make it out, since he is the one who defends it to the tax officials.

I had had a copy made for you of Quayle's letter about the Ballantyne

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

manuscripts but my desk is in such confusion that I simply can't put my
hands on it. In any event I think I quoted the relevant portions. I
will write him for the list, but still don't know whether I should dip
into capital. It is of course tempting to have an incomparable collection,
but ---. The disposal in the kitchen sink burned out Saturday and must
be replaced. Still, we have had it for twenty years and one cannot com-
plain. The plumber could hardly believe that it was the original one.
Fortunately a replacement costs less than one hundred dollars. W has
50,000 in cash in New York which they are holding in case the land
purchase comes through. Perhaps I should draw from this. It is just
difficult for me to make up my mind.

Must go out for lunch with the Dean now, and will write again
later. I simply want to get this into an early mail because of yesterday's
silnce.

Greetings to Elsie and Ines, and all love to yourself.

30 April 1967

Dearest Fido,

Daylight savings came into effect this morning, and the afternoon has gone away without my realising that the intensity of daylight putside my window means something different from yesterday. There hasn't been too much of a day anyhow. Putting the clocks ahead robbed us of an hour, and then I spent part of the morning at home finishing up the descriptions of the 15 articles being loaned to Philips Academy, Andover, my old school which you visited with me, for an exhibition of paintings and art objects owned by alumni. Sufficient to say, a large number originally came from you. I'll describe what went later. No, I might as well now. 2 of the Syro-Hittite figures, a drawing by John Trumbull, Susan's remote uncle. The roman matron from a tomb, usually in the kitchen. 2 examples of Chinese porcelain. The sleeping fawn given me by the Pounds, the work of Gaudier Breszka. 3 pieces of eskimo art. A mexican pre-Columbian carving, the dog usually on the desk. Two photographs by Stieglitz. The ms of the Roman de la Rose, and the Latin-English vocabulary. At the moment I can't think of the others.

This afternoon I went first to a memorial service for John Gassner, the drama critic who taught at Yale and was a friend of mine. Then to an exhibition of Japanese prints and a reception by the Master of Morse college. The rest of the time I have been paying bills, writing letters abroad to save the extra five cents it will cost after tomorrow, and the like. I did find the xerox of Quayle's letter and so send it along anyhow. I wrote him and asked for the list.

Last night we went to a cocktail party for Hungarians and then to young Susan's for supper with her and the children, after which I took them all to the Lawn Club for movies on sailing. Excellent pictures of races in storms and calm, the Bermuda race was one example, and then a sequence on the Friendship sloops which brought back memories of our trip to Maine. I saw Mildred Brown's friend in full glory. He won the cup that year.

Now I just rush to the postoffice, or this will be returned to me for another ten cents tomorrow, I having missed the afternoon post from the office.

Tomorrow I must drive to Hartford to the funeral there. Susan will have to wait for the truck which comes to collect the things to go to Andover.

a smart gray spring suit. I was asked afterwards to go to the cemetery but I find this rather barbaric and begged off to return to the office after saluting mother and sons appropriately.

Yesterday, as you know, I went to the memorial services for John Gassner, and in retrospect I like the Jewish half hour better than the Episcopalian. The Jews spent their time telling what John had accomplished and what he was like. I don't think Charles Salsbury was mentioned by name in the course of the ritual. But Charles would have laughed anyhow. He always had the happy facility of making one think that he and you belonged to a very secret group of two who recognized the absurdity of the world without having to talk about it. Still, as an architect, he liked beauty too, and tried to make more.

Susan could not go, having to stay at home to meet the truck from Andover which came to pick up the things for their show. I'm glad the Etruscan vase handle wasn't here when the Director came; he might have chosen it, and I want to enjoy it for myself now.

2 May 1967

Dearest Fido,

Great joy to have the first letter from Kenwin after your return.

Two more have come in earlier in the day, so although it has been rainy and cold outside, the temperature of my office has been warm with your spirit. So glad that Swissair didn't let you down -- or Elsie of course, though she is Swiss and safe. But they say once in the air no one could be nicer than on Swissair; it is the Geneva airport where the trouble comes for most.

I fear you are correct about the Arts Council. They are now the establishment and speak with the smug self-satisfaction of true Philistines. It is only remarkable to me how someone like Eric White could have worked himself into a position of such power. But he knows how to fawn. Well, our one hope is that the increased bureaucracy will only intensify the resistance groups in the way of mimeographed journals and the like. No wonder one takes LSD trips on which neither passports nor currency controls operate.

Thanks to your last letter I see the significance of the Glastonbury basket.

Norman

3 May 1967

Dearest Fido,

My efforts at thrift will be the death of our correspondence,
though I feel somewhat put upon at the same time. I have just been to the
mid-afternoon post, and found a letter to you I mailed on Sunday returned
for insufficient postage. Now either it was not picked up at the promised
time of collection, or if picked up hung around the postoffice before being
cancelled, so that although in on time it was counted as a day late. I
am so sorry. Then I enveloped an unfinished letter to you yesterday and
stamped it correctly after the meeting of the faculty broke up, only to find
just now that I had never posted it at all. So you will have had a famine.

You have been much better, and your own letter of the 1st was
in the same delivery in which the other was returned. It is good to know that
you and Elsie had renewed bonds at the Escale, and I hope the swans greeted
your return with appropriate song. As for Greenland, naturally I am deeply
disappointed, though no one has more right to use her own time to her own
preferences. I only wish you had really been at Brattahlid, for you would
smile at the idea of conventionality. There is one ex-barracks in which
people sleep, all sharing the same military washbowls down the hall. The
only Dane involved will be in the boots and rough garb that a Vebaek wore,
and he lives in shack across the bay by the ruins. Otherwise except as
one travels in a boat much like that which took us to Värsoe one is com-
pletely on one's own, with no one to entertain us or be nice to. The Disco
was formal; this is roughing it. But your yacht should be fun, and if you
can manage Copenhagen it would give you a chance to see Chris again too as
well as the exhibition.

I still have not written Scott at the National Collection of Fine
Arts about Romaine, but in any event I think we must leave the publication
of her memoirs in their hands. She is happy with the possibility they can
do, and we can contribute to it if indicated. With all due respect to her
paintings, I am not really sure that the quality of them is up to an elaborate
catalogue; or if it is, then the gallery itself should carry the burden as well
as hang the pictures. My own hunch is that neither will come off -- except
for hanging the pictures--for Scott will be involved for another year at least
in preparing for the opening of his new museum. I shall have given her the
phance to have seen Scott -- I would guess that she didn't know how his trip
was financed-- and that at least will have been a gesture in her direction.

The Eastbourne papers with its account of the reunion came yesterday and I was delighted to read it and to have for the archives. I thought the write-up was a good one. What would you think of my writing the school and asking if they would be interested in having some of your books for their library. I should think the present students would at least be interested in the memoirs, so that they would have a sense of the history of the buildings. It might be awkward for you to make the suggestion; but it would be appropriate enough for me to do so.

Monday night I took Susan to hear the Concertgebouw Orchestra of
Amsterdam. I must say it is one of the finest symphonies I have ever heard,
perhaps the finest. Last night however for the first time in weeks I stayed

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

quietly at home, washed t.v. for a bit and then did some reading of draft
chapters of a student's dissertation. Now I have a stack of senior honors
theses to be gone over, and will be glad of the chance of tonight at home
also. Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights are engaged.

I was pleased yesterday to read in the New York Times that Goetzmann's
book on the west, which you read last summer (he was a student and protege of
mine) was awarded the Pulitzer Prize in history. It is rather ironic that
when the powers in history at Yale went over the first draft of the book they
did not think it was very good, or anyhow up to their quality. He is now in
Texas, but I should have advised him to go there anyhow, so that he could
be senior earlier.

Already one is in the midst of end-of-the-year duties. I really
ought not even to try to go to Greenland myself, having so much to put in order
before I clear out of these offices. Including of course finding some place
to go. They offer me two smallish rooms (actually a truly generous offer,
considering the pressure for space) but I don't see how I can get my filing
cases and even a fraction of my books into them. And one hates to spend the
next seven years with on'es books, or most of them, in storage.

All love,

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

My? 

4 April 1967

Dearest Fido,

Well at least a grpup of letters got off to you eventually,
and I wonder whether or not they will arrive together. My days seem to
be so packed and confused that I have been writing lately with organic
confusion. I hope I didn't sound too snippy yesterday, in my distressed
weeping that you wouldn't see the home of Eric and explore the inner fjords
with me. It would have been rough but I think not so much so that you
could not have taken it.

Susan wondered too, that you were not experimenting with the
new typewriter, but I agree it needs a cover (I should have thought) and
the new keys. By the way if a cover isn't available I can ship one over
from here. It would be a pleasure to do so.

Yours of the 2nd came this noon. I did know that Bryan had
his nest egg, but from the way you wrote thought his going to graduate
study depended upon whether or not his father would help him. I suspect
you are right: if he really wants to go with his studies, he will want to
enough to make the cost an investment. Much better that he should work
for awhile in Canada. I will get the feel of it much better. #Last night
Susan and I had a slide show with the lecture notes and slides of the
Syro-Hittite pieces. I must say one can see more with the enlargements
on the screen. One could see, for example, that the ears on the animal-
faced woman were really horns, but the breasts and buttocks were a woman's
all right. In most cases the parallels were not very parallel, but inter-
esting all the same and showing the individuality of the ones you bought.
It was a real coup. # Gratitude? It is strange how careless most people
are with their thanks. When I am asked a favor that takes hours or even
days, I am always overwhelmed by a note of thanks in return for my report.
#As to the Ballantyne let us at least wait until we get the list. That
won't be until after you've seen Coigny, and probably some time after that.
I really can't make up my mind whether I can afford it or not. My Only
feeling is that it would bring up the strength of the Henty collection and
others by its magnetism. I doubt I should collect ballantyne or Kingston
except as dusty diamonds in Henty's crown. I wonder if he would consider
payment spread over a year or two. In the States one often likes that better
for tax purposes. # This is splendid news about Sachie's grandchild. Both
will like it, and of course the line will not die out, just zigzag a little
if necessary # The Collins letter puzzles me too, since I do not know what
diary he refers to, unless one of his own. I had suggested 25 years really
so that one wouldn't have to worry about getting it published. And to keep
him from feeling repressed in terms of too many contemporaries. One would
have to read what he wrote of course, but very possibly it could be printed
immediately if indeed one could find a publisher. Poor Collins, what was
meant as therapy to keep him busy now looms like a treasury to give him gains.
The thing to do is to read it and then see.

Most of today was spent going through applications in German for
two fellowships to Yale, so as to instruct an assistant dean who flies Saturday
to Germany to sit on the committee of selection. One good result was to instruct
my two successors on this particular corner of their future responsibilities.

All love, Norman

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

5 May 1967

Dearest Fido,

I start the day by writing you, since the end of it is likely
to be crowded. I have one graduate school faculty meeting in the early
afternoon and then at 4 p.m. must introduce the head of American Studies
at Leeds, in England who is giving a lecture on Hemmingway. Grant is
the smooth British type. He taught in Canada before getting his pro-
fessorship and stopped by Yale on his way home to discuss what he should
read in American literature. I'm not sure he's read much since, but he
has had two younger members of our staff over for a year apiece and indeed
he's a nice chap. But a Friday afternoon lecture! I only hope a few will
turn up, especially since the English Department forgot to get the announce-
ment in the university calendar. Grant wrote a friend here, said he would
be in New Haven this Friday for the weekend, and "surely Pearson can arrange
for me to give a lecture, either on Hemingway or Dr Johnson." So I have,
and give a sheery party for him immediately after the lecture, and a
dinner party after that. And he gets his check, which is what he really
wanted.

I go back over some earlier letters I only acknowledged. Lettice
Cooper is right and confirms what I told you that Collins thinks now in
terms of Manchester's book on ennedy's death. Helen said the same thing,
and believes (and I believe her) that their rejection of Kenneth's later
book came as a result of overselling themselves on the first. They printed
an edition as big as for The Leopard and compared Kenneth's to that, unfairly.
I suppose it's an inevitable trend on both sides of the Atlantic, alas.

Sorry about Martin Freud. He was an interesting type of a famous
man's sons. I did not know him except through his memoirs. Ernst Freud I did
know slightly years ago.

Have not read the Leonard Woolf memoirs. Somehow the Bloomsbury
group never quite seemed my cup of tea. Nor Virginia W's novels my page of
print. A blind spot no doubt.

I suppose one must let Catha do as she wishes with her father's
papers. They are, after all, hers. But I am not at all interested in paying
for Rota to fly over to see R.A.'s books. He can if he wants to, but could
work almost as well from a list. And R.A.'s books are not really collected
today and it would be better for Catha to keep them. His papers are another
matter, and the difficulty is that Kershaw has no expertise (any more than I
have) for setting a price on them which would help Catha most. I have no
objection to Southern Illinois buying the papers, but they should pay what is
right. And I specifically said they should give S.U. the first chance. But
Kershaw thinks of the biography which he is writing "with" Harry Moore.

Four volumes of *Pilgrimage* have come in, for which my thanks.
And the paperback *Young Carthaginian* which will be a nice up-to-date addition
to the dusted diamonds. I trust the final whole will be a worthy monument to
you.

6 May 1967

Dearest Fido,

It poured yesterday afternoon, but still, with a little cudgeling of students and a promise of sheery afterwards to some, about thirty people showed up for the lecture on Hemingway -- a very good attendance indeed on a Friday afternoon. The sherry party I gave afterwards in the rooms of the English Department next door seemed equally successful, and so the gestures were accomplished. The dinner too went well. Susan had cooked delicious fish and made a good desert, and we had fresh asparagus. We had asked Mrs Cleanth B rooks to pair off Douglas Grant, and she had just been on a Sunday's outing with Ivor and Dorothy Richards. They had taken a picnic lunch, or rather each Richards brought one -- with substantial quantities of cocktails and chicken. Tinkum Brooks was surprised that I.A. did all the carving, serving, hostessing; apparently Dorothy doesn't like that sort of thing very much. They were to climb Mount Granby, and up they went--D.R. on her two elbow crutches. Tinkum gave up after awhile and went back down, Cleanth stuck it out but was exhausted for days. D.R. and I.A. planted a flag, so to speak, on the summit. Apparently when they were in Egypt in December the two of them climbed Mount Sinai, and had photographs to prove it. Without the proof the claim, Tinkum said, would have been preposterous. One really can't lick D.R. No wonder she finds the idea of a Queenwood reunion tame.

No letter in the Saturday mail, today, but this now seems routine. Too bad the BBC doesn't publish letters, or do they have a house organ? I feel sure de Gaulle will do everything in his power to keep a rival out. Maitre Coigny seems to think it inevitable, finally, that Switzerland at any rate will be in.

Jean Untermeyer probably wants a change for the summer, and a trip abroad, and indeed perhaps the McDowell Colony and the spots she usually visits can't take her any more. She must need a good deal of attention. I can't blame her for wanting to get out of New York. I'm a little vague about where St. Gallen is, but can't you and Elsie visit her there rather than risk her at Kenwin? You can always argue the danger of the stairs chez toi. Someday I really must do Switzerland. I really have seen comparatively little of it.

When I asked the man who reapparaised the Elizabethans what the best shop for you in London was, he said Quaritch. They are on 11 Grafton Street, just of Bond. They still keep a stock. I have now had a letter from the New York firm and find we have a credit of $500.00 after the exchange I wrote you about. He now makes three suggestions, although the credit can be kept against the future. We have none of them. The first is the seven-volume first octavo edition of B & F, which is also the 1st illustrated edition, and the 1st with the long account of the authors. London, Jacob Tonson, 1711, contemporary calf, $200.00 The second is Chapman & Shirley's THE TRAGEDIE OF CHABOT ADMIRALL OF FRANCE, first acted in 1613. 1st edition, 1639. $300.00. The third is Wm Rowley's A TRAGEDY CALLED ALL'S LOST BUT LUST. 1st edition, with the original blank at end. London 1633. #900.00.

I suppose their assumption is that we would choose the B & F, and I imagine it would be worth adding to the run--this is more or less my cutoff date for the quartos. But which of the other two to even off the score. I think

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

you should be the one to choose, for you have a feel for the period.

I enclose a letter to me from Bill Rogers (who was Gertrude Stein's friend, and through whom I met him years ago). Alas, his book is finished and about to be published by Harcourt. You may remember that I refused to cooperate with him vis-a-vis yourself. Nor can I help him with photographs of the ladies in question. Still, he will write around, or Harcourt itself has pictures of you, so having planned to refuse entirely In your case I questioned Gallup as to whether or not the Library had pictures of the others. They had only some of Janet Flanner by Van Vechten, and, much to my surprise, three of you by him. I had known nothing of them. he showed them to me; and they are excellent, I must admit. About 1939? Anyhow I have told Rogers he could apply to Yale for these two if he wishes to, but if he does use a photograph it will not come as from me. I enclose also the clipping about Romaine. This is her sustaining fantasy, that she invented abstractionism. And it is the feather by which this Frenchman with the Scottish name tickles her ego. But why not. When I am 93 I shall want people to do more than tickle me with a feather. My ego will require an electro-vibrant massage.

All love as always,

6 May 1967 (2nd)

Dearest Fido,

This doesn't begin as a letter but as a report. The day has gone on; I have done a few more letters with each hour; and my desk is perhaps if only by the precisest of measurements somewhat lower and cleaner. But as I put things away, I discover that I have not really reported to you on all of my receipts from your hand. That is, in the mail after I reported the arrival of *Pilgrimage*, the second set came. So one of them has gone on to the Dorothy Richardson Collection as your gift to it. You will no doubt eventually receive an official acknowledgement. However I bow low and thank you immediately. The *Madoc* also came, which will presently be a part of the Arctic Collection at home; and again I bow. The third package contained the Creekmore *Tibullus* and the book of essays on Milton. Just where these will end up I am not sure, but in some grateful hand I can assure you. For all these I make my salaams.

7 May 1967 p.m.

Perhaps on the sheer basis of yesterday's books from you, I spent a selfish morning at work on books really "for you"; that is, dusty diamonds. I think I told you that I bought a collection of some twenty-odd Mitfords from Stonehill as a way of clearing my debt for the revaluations they never finished. He seems to have written chiefly in the 90's and the first decade of the 20th century, almost entirely about South Africa, although one is laid in Switzerland. These I had never catalogued, and they have cluttered the storage room in the main office. This I did, and then put them in a case to take home to the basement bookcase, but by then it was pouring rain and I didn't want to get them wet. That done, I went on with the 18 Henty volumes I got from New Hampshire, and catalogued those and put them on the shelves--tho on top of others, and on their side for lack of room. It was a good haul and averaged only about $5.00 a volume. Actually the bill itself hasn't come yet. I was particularly pleased to find that the famous Indiana collection (Pete Martin's) listed an 1895 HELF FAST FOR ENGLAND as the first American (these preceded the English editions by a couple of months), but our new one is dated 1891. I wrote Randall, the Librarian, a glowing note on this. One or two are simply of d editions to show the spread, but far and away the most are either American or British firsts. By Conduct & Courage, 1st American; two American editions of The Golden Canon; the American Held Fast for England; American In Freedom's Cause; first American Knight of the White Cross; 1st English March on London; first american One of the 28th; first American On The Irrawaddy; first ditto Treasure of the Incas; first british True to the Old Flag; first american With Kitchener in the Soudan; an american but not first With Lee in Virginia; first american With Moore at Corunna; first ditto With Roberts to Pretoria; first ditto The Young Midhsipman; and a copy of an undated Yarns on the Beach, from Blackie, which Indiana also seems to lack.

It really is the most dreadful day; the temperature is 39°F, and it has rained hard all day. The worst spring we have had. The only consolation is that the new garbage disposal is at last installed in the kitchen sink. And paid for, I am glad to say.

Spent part of the morning tracing by phone as from Princeton to

the Dartmouth Library the biographer of Robert Frost to locate a quotation from Frost for the Dean of the Law School. Thompson was at Dartmouth at research in the library this morning for volume Two. I gave him the quote; he asked me to wait a moment; then came back and told me the page reference. I was much impressed.

Last night we went to the 60th birthday banquet for William Horowitz, a local banker and first Jew to be a member of the Yale Corporation. (There has never yet been a Catholic either.) His son was a student of mine and an admirer who for a period I could talk to in a way his father couldn't. The boy has now had a complete run of analysis and is fine, teaches at Harvard and is a senior tutor of one of the Harvard colleges. All this to explain why we were included among the elite one hundred there in black ties. It was pleasant, but it will be even nicer tonight when for the first time for several days we will have no engagement at all.

Love and good weather,

Norman

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

8 May 1967

Dearest Fido,

Peals of laughter! Late this afternoon I was asked if I would step into the outer office to see my travel agent. He was there, somewhat sheepish, to say that he had mentioned to the Swiss Air agent here a few days ago my newest ire. "Should I go up to see him about it?" the agent asked. "Not on your life! don't go near him," the travel agent replied. So the Swiss agent had sent up a gift for my wife to placate me, and this the travel agent held in his hand. It is a small gold box on a gold chain attached to a gold key ring, and when you wind the box it plays "Tarara Boom De Ay," --so the notice reads. Susan will hurl it at me. But anyhow Swissair know, at this end anyhow, so no need to raise at row at yours. Only, when you make your own confirmations be sure to get the name of the confirmer.

It has been a day of nothing but interruptions, though I take these now as the normal run of events. A good part of the time was taken by the professor from Wisconsin whom I have gotten interested in H.D. He came up to go through the manuscripts of the later poems and to see a little of what was available. He was so enthused he now plans to return for a fortnight in the late summer. We do our best.

The package came from Blackwells with my *Ballantyne The Brave* and *Effie in Venice* which I ordered to complete the story I began with the book you sent to Horace. I fear it will be a little while before I can get to Ballantyne.

Your letter of the 5th was in the late afternoon mail. Many thanks. I was most grateful for the letter from Elizabeth Collins, and have ordered a draft for £20/-/- sent to her to replace her funds. Miss Bowra hadn't mentioned these extras, so I didn't know. I can't tell you how grateful I am. # I presume either you or I will hear more from Mr Parker about Edith's letters.

The visit from the Goughs sounded most pleasant, and I am not at all surprised that they plan to stay on. Few jobs would give him the equivalent chance for digging, which is what makes one an archaeologist in the first place. In America he would be away both from home and the sites. But I do hope he has a chance to come over on one of his leaves. You are in good luck with your Simond vase. I know too little to be any sort of a judge of authenticity.

The weather has continued in the low 40° F.'s (I think I got my keys mixed up on that one). It has stopped raining but they say it will again tonight. God warm us and dry our powder!

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

9 May 1967

Dearest Fido,

I didn't write you Thursday and I didn't write you on Friday. And now this isn't going to be enough of a letter to make up. This morning the same young man who interrupted a Saturday a few weeks ago appeared at the door to see Goetzmann, up from Texas to receive the Parkman Prize in History, in New York, for the same book. It appears, that G told him by phone, that he would see him here. I knew where G was staying, they made arrangements to meet in my office at 3; nor it is a quarter to 5 and G has just arrived. I have not quite had to end the young man (and his wife) meanwhile but they have been rustling about the outer office, I have been relaying telephone calls between G and them, and haven't quite been able to settle down to anything. Well, that isn't quite true. I've worked at my desk, and my desk does look better as a consequence. And the sun has been shining for the first day in a fortnight. That helps. After waiting around for the doctor to call me in for my lung exercises or drugs so that I could then, or since I must then, give up smoking I snuffed out my last butt at 10:47 a.m. this morning. That does not help.

No letter from you today, but I have a little pile to answer this morning. I must talk with G when he finishes, and so will content myself with snippets piled up to comment on. In this way I can stop at anytime, without losing the thread of a discussion. I take the sequence according to their position in the pile.

Rather fun: when I was in Texas I was asked if I had a copy of Kingston's *Scouting with Custer*. I said I'd look. I looked and found I didn't. My questioner meanwhile had kept on looking, and found that the 1904 Chicago edition which he had heard of turned out actually to be a new edition of an 1884 book by Thomas Newson, called *Thrilling Scenes Among the Indians*. Obviously the new publishers thought it would sell more if they pretended Kingston did it. Hence the pure lie. I think I'll have to try to dig up a copy of the fake, for the fun of it.

I enclose a clipping from the Yale Alumni magazine, simply for the sake of the last paragraph. At least it amused me, but I have always liked grande damsonplums.

A letter came this morning from the New York lawyer which would indicate that the matter of Horace's insurance was at last in the works. As I wrote you I was irritated that the surgeon had to wait so long for payment. I will of course still have to make up the difference between the insurance payments and his bill, but I hope to be able to cut down the bill so far as I am concerned.

The invitation for the part for Horace at the Gotham Book Mart, on the 23rd, has come. I will go for his sake, though I am not keen on publishers' parties *per se*. Susan, alas, cannot go, having been committed to judge a flower show that day.

Did I tell you that your bathroom at Goodrich Street now has a new handbasin? Susan has always been troubled that the faucet did not blend the

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

hot and cold water. You can now toss it over your shoulder if you want to.
I will see that a better mirror is installed, and a new linoleum flooring
put on. The tub, alas, I think had better stay, since new ones would go
straight to the floor and deprive you of toe room. However, I hope you will
be more comfortable.

Earlier this week I deposited your royalty check, so despite the
withdrawal to cover taxes, the total is now $15,137.52. I made a deposit for
Hilda's royalties also; her total is now $1,551.71. This should be enough to
enable you to buy sufficient LSD and marijuana to use in your room when you
are here with me. We are now told that between 20-30% of Yale undergraduates
use pot or drugs of some sort. I am appalled.

The archaeologists have returned the articles on Mellaart. They
(the articles) were an immense success and were passed from hand to hand.
I was thanked by each new man who saw them. Now I must let Harald have a
look. I can then return them if you'd like me to.

I was pleased this morning to get the announcement that my friend
Dudley Fitts has been elected to the Board of Chancellors of the Academy of
American Poets. I'm pleased for his sake, naturally, for being invalidated as
he is, these honors mean much to him. But I'm pleased for my sake too, for,
as a Chancellor (we elect to our own group as one dies or retires) I have
been nominating and putting what I hoped would be persuasive arguments for him in
each of the last three openings. Sometimes I fear I enjoy making arrangements.

In going thru reminders and things-to-be-filed I find the advertisement
for THE GEATS OF BEOWULF. There was much trouble I remember because of frequent
postponements of its publication. Did I ever send it? I know I ordered it but
now have the feeling they must have lost the order.

One yellowback has come, as from the Sesame. Sorry that I
wait so long on her return to Zurich. I rather like the letters your Temple
writes. And what a pleasant note from Isobel Hutchison. (At that moment G
finished his conference, or rather G's wife and friend came for him and I did have
to entertain first them and then him. So the afternoon has gone, but I managed after
all to write more than I thought I could.) # What good letters from Chris. Why
don't you or you and Elsie pop up to Copenhagen see him and report to me on the
Norse exhibition and what they do with the Brattahlid dig in it. # Many thanks
for the Quayle review from Ethel. # A nice letter from Petrie. I hope I'll be
free enough so that at least I can get to Ireland for a few days in the autumn.
# Poor Agnes with her Pat. I don't see how she manages to cope, but I suppose
Pat is really a kind of naughty puppy.

And then lastly, the jacket material for January. Not bad at all,
especially for linking it to but not tying it down with Hastings. For after all
the book is much more than an occasional novel.

9 May 1967

Dearest Fido,

It won't be often that you get three letters to you written on the same day. But having, after my second letter, finished writing in longhand (for sincerity's sake) 14 letters of appeal for funds in the annual drive of the International Student Center I thought I deserved the fun of another chat with you. And in any event, to send off the list of Ballantyne mss which came from Quayle. You need not return it, it is far too heavy for that; anyhow I have the original.

I repeat what I have said before. I do not think the manuscripts are cheap. On the other hand they are unique, and this lot presumably clears out what the Ballantyne girls had and did not sell earlier to Brimmell. My impression is that Brimmell bought the cream, of which he sold one manuscript to UCLA (The University of California at Los Angeles) which has the Sadleir collection, and one to a dealer who still has it and offered it recently at %1,500. It was *The Lonely Island* and as a single ms seemed to me to add nothing to the group I already add. I have to say too that the lot you bought for me, plus the two manuscripts I bought and the various drawings I also bought are more important than what Quayle offers. But the value of what he has lies in its en masse, doubling what we already have and making the collection the best there can ever be in the way of manuscript material. I have been going through my Brimmell folder, but cannot seem to find the bill for the group you paid for through pounds and Coutts. For Snowflakes I paid $1,126.00 and for Hudson's Bay, $1,549. That will give you some idea.

If you want to go half, I think I could swing the other half. I don't think at the moment, with the two girls and Horace to support, that I can quite make it all. On the other hand, even without these we'll still have a better collection, in terms of more important manuscripts, than any other can be. And I doubt that there will be many books written each decade on B the Brave. It would be a braver man than B who tried to. So maybe with all the demands on both of us we'd be smarter to sigh and say sorry and smile.

9 May 1967

Dearest Fido,

The Swissair musical key ring actually did play ta-rara-
boom-deray! I thought it would turn out to be the edelweiss song.

Your letters of the 6th and 7th arrived in different
mails today, in reverse order. I know how you feel about the long
train ride to Cetona; like yourself I find trains tedious. I want
to be where I am going, and then as it were collapse for a bit.

10 May 1967

Dearest Fido still,

I must try to recall what I would have written yesterday
had I been able to get farther along than what you see above. I begin
now to live only for the Saturdays and Sundays when I am not interrupted.
You, I know, feel the same desperation for unbroken time.

It is, curious, as Mrs Gough says, what a new concept of the
world children now have. Little boys at least do; the youngest Susan,
however, takes it all in her stride --space ships and the moon-- as
being irrelevant to her focus on her dolls and miniature family. But
I noticed in the last week's N.Y. Times Book Review that the Children's
Books Section begins with a transformation of *Alice* and a treatise on
*The Life and Death of Nazi Germany*. Or maybe these weren't for children,
but only a prologue.

I see you have been having our sort of weather, when one shivers
a little at midday and very much at night. I haven't dared to remove the
lining from my coat. Susan bravely faces the garden when the wind is not
blowing, but that is not often. Poor Elsie, one sympathizes with her wanting
to carry on as usual even if one is carried out as a consequence. The diffi-
culty is that others are made to agonize by the results of her fatigue. As
for myself I should revel in a gardener and chauffeur.

I know what you mean about *Adam* (I always wondered why *that*
title), but have several times found it useful in a documentary fashion.
One picks up odd bits of information in their special numbers, and for
this reason don't toss them in the wastebasket.

I wonder if Rosemary will hold off from going to Greece. I
hope not. At least she won't have to worry about being turned back at the
borders because of a beard. Army generals seem to go in for disciplined
morality. Only Coigny's experience with the pennyless British boys makes
me in the least tolerant of the new Greek rule that one must show evidence
of enough money before entering the country. We had to do this for Hungary,
even though I had carefully shaved before landing at Budapest. The worst

9 May 1967

Dearest Fido,

10 May 1967

Dearest Fido still,

I must try to recall what I would have written yesterday
had I been able to get farther along than what you see above. I begin
now to have only for the Saturdays and Sundays when I am not interrupted.
You, I know, feel the same desperation for unbroken time.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

14 May 1967

Dearest Fido,

I have dutifully begun Sunday by reading one hundred pages of a dissertation on a more or less unknown Senator from Massachusetts in the mid 19th-century and Civil War period. This is one of my final gestures as director of the graduate program. The dissertation arrived only Thursday, and I had to scrape so to find two of the three readers that I became the third myself. Last night I read the first 100; there are 200 more to go.

And now for your letters which have remained unanswered, of the 8th (2), 9th, 10th. There was none as usual yesterday. Usually it takes two days as from your end, much longer as from here.

Much amused that the Arctic stamps went through uncancelled. I
shall have to peel off and then resend.

Several of my friends have commented on how little mention was made
of V-E Day on this side. How can one celebrate the anniversary of what now
hardly seems to have been the end of anything. Yet it was. I remember the
night in Trafalgar, it was gay but perhaps not gay enough. And the British
were never allowed afterwards to think that life would change. Never was there
a more oppressive example of the Puritan spirit.

Many thanks for copying the Kershaw letter to Catha. One knows of
course what's up. Kershaw wants "in" with Moore, and that's perfectly under-
standable -- for by sharing the biography which Moore will mostly write, Kershaw
will be an author again. But I still feel that his loyalty to atha and R.A.
should be greater, and any chance to help her ought to be a main objective.
Yet I think the whole thing is clearer to me now. Harry and Kershaw ought to
have complete access to the archives while they write the biography. When the
biography appears, if it is a success interest in R.A. will have been heightened
and therefore the value of his mss will have been increased. Catha should there-
fore wait to sell the manuscripts and correspondence until after the biography,
and then there will be no reason why they should not go to whomever pays highest,
or because of the heightened interest and a sense of what the mss are (thru the
book) even Southern Illinois would pay a higher price. I simply don't see how
Kershaw can have any idea of what mss are worth; I certainly don't.

I think I told you that the two sets of Pilgrimage had come, and one
was passed on to her collection at the library, as your gift. I will see to it
that they have a copy of the American set. Only the title page will presumably
be different; the English edition will have been cheaper and I only need one.
The Library however, being the official HQ for DR must have everything, I suppose.
Your comment about people dislike of the "middles" or anything about them is only
too true. They have been battered and bashed about ever since the middeneleventh
century, by Marx as well as by Arnold and the Bohemians. Some one should do a
history of the middle class, a favorable one. After all, you and I are middles,
or at least I am. I stressed this once to a class, which was horrified. "You
aren't a middle," they said, "you're an intellectual." "Nuts!" I replied.

The lists of Ballantyne mss have come, but I will not send until
tomorrow, as being too heavy for anything but going to the postoffice itself to
ship. I may, though, write again this afternoon, and mail them on my way to
work tomorrow. So I reserve my comment until then. It is very generous indeed
to offer a half, or rather to suggest that it might be possible. I am still in
a quandary about everything except what they would do for the ultimate excellence
of the collection. I daresay, however, that if we take these we will eventually

spend the next hour with the literary executor of some novelist named Dawn Powell, trying to explain to her what she had to do, and trying to hint that she might not get as much money from selling the papers as she thought.

This sort of thing I suppose I won't be through with at the year's end.

I forgot to say that I saw Louis Untermeyer, with his newest wife, at Prometheus. We spoke for awhile the energy of a young stallion. What a pity he couldn't have paid Jean U some of as alimony.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

14 May 1967

Dearest Fido,

Home for a lunch of thick pea soup--very good -- and then, because I knew Susan was eager to see how her sister's house was coming along at the tip of Johnson's Point I drove her down and we had a look. It is perched out over the rocks I suppose I shall like it, but of course the grandeur of the big house is gone. I am happy enough that we have the one we own, in its particular location. No word as yet from the man and his sister about the land I wanted to add. He is suing his aunt's estate, so I rather doubt he will want to transfer any property at this particular moment.

Let me run over my own activities for the past few days, since I never did get to them. On Wednesday the latter part of the morning was taken up by a visit from a prof. Jean-Georges Ritz, from Lyons. He wanted to talk about poetry. Then I lunched with the onetime fiancee of my old protege Charles Fenton, a professor at Duke, who committed suicide some years ago by throwing himself off the top of a building. And then at night I had the Jonathan Edwards annual dinner for seniors.

Thursday's chief event was my visit to Dr German, the neuro-surgeon who operated on Horace. He knew me as of that, but of course I was referred this time by Dr Southwick, the orthopedist. My appointment was at 1:30. I arrived at ten past one, was shown in early, put on my short gown and waited. In a half hour or so a young Dr Bone appeared, and poked pins in every nook and cranny, gave me tests as to which position my toes were in as he wiggled them, put vibrators against my ankle bones, and in one way or another made me more acutely conscious of differentiations than I could have imagined. Then he disappeared and I waited. I waited until 4:30, and it was a very good thing indeed that I had brought along a senior honors thesis for the English Department, so I managed during the afternoon to read all but ten pages of it. But one's ambulance is limited in a short gown open at the back, and my bottom grew cold after an afternoon on the leather chair and the table. My x-rays were missing, and I finally suggested where they might be and they were indeed there when Dr germain came. He went over the geography of my skin with his little prickers, saying sensibly "what's the point of a gown!", so that nothing got in his way, and repeating all possible tests until he could only say that there wasn't any pressure of the disks on nerves, though the nerves were crowded on one side and stretched on the other. He will go over all with Dr Southwick but it doesn't look as though he wanted either to operate or kill anything by mercy drugs.

At night we went to hear a new translation of *Prometheus Bound* by Robert Lowell, put on at the Yale drama school for its premiere. The acting was excellent, the set overpowering, the translation poetical. All that was missing was the sense of heroic stature in Prometheus who had the appearance of a sad old man musing over Vietnam.

Friday was spent with a two hour committee meeting of the Committee on the Yale collections of American Art, on which I serve ex officio. I took my successor with me and introduced him and bade my farewells as of the end of the year. But by the time the formal luncheon was finished it was three o'clock when I had to

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

I feel rather proud of myself for having read the 400 page dissertation over the weekend and last night at home. Read it and still had time for an hour-long t.v. presentation, originally by BBC, on Eton. I found it fascinating, but how glad I am not to have to be a schoolboy all over again. Much stress was laid on the new interest in physics and science in general, all Etonians now being said to have to earn their living. This is another reason for being glad not to have to relive my life, for although I applaud science I simply can't understand it.

Today I have been caught up with trying to arrange a program for tomorrow for a Professor Makoto Saito from Tokyo. His father I know and the father had us to him his home for dinner with a brother (and son) who now holds the father's chair in English. This Saito holds the chair in history of his sensai, Takagi, who is also a friend of mine, so we must be nice. We drag him in to a cocktail party we were involved with, and then take him to the Lawn Club for dinner.

I had a last phone call from Dr Gray about my lungs, the team having met and analysed the movies. Gray was pleased because they really could localize the area affected, though he is not sure what can be done about it. However the right lung is posteriorly affected in such a way that it generates no oxygen. Thus blood passing through it receives none, and as a consequence I have an oxygen deficiency. Now they will see whether with exercises or drugs this situation can be changed. It is worth trying anyhow, and I hope you approve of this Prutting attitude on my part for trying to step in before it is too late.

Have begun to read D uncan's immense book on Hilda. Oftens on her, that is, but actually more a reflection of himself. Which is fine by me, and to be a frame and glass will draw attention to herself, which is what I want.

NORMAN

HOLMES

PEARSON

231 HGS

YALE UNIVERSITY

NEW HAVEN·CONN

17 May 1967

Dearest Fido,

Not a day, I must say, of accomplishment. Life often
seems simply a matter of survival after the onslaught of telephone
calls and appointments.

However the sun was shining, and this is something. And
the Japanese professor, for whom I had arranged a day of appointments
with the professors he longed to meet, and took him to lunch at Mory's
in addition to the cocktail party and dinner last night--this one has
taken the train back to New York.

And I did pay my every-two-or-three-year visit to the
oculists at midmorning at the other side of the town, so that expe-
dition has been accomplished. No change in my distance glasses, but
since I reported difficulty in reading the New York telephone directory
he tested that and gave a new and somewhat stronger prescription.

Otherwise, nearly nothing. No letter from you today, but
you will have been in the middle of my drought. Two yellowbacks came
yesterday, and I read them last night. Catha's letter somehow seemed
a little cool, or distant, to me. Probably I am wrong but it sounded
as though she were preoccupied rather than angry. Certainly not angry
at you. I do hope you can manage to see Philip's house and her. #
With reference to Sir Ronnie's letter, did you actually approve of
the Art Council's list of bursaries? I don't think you had mentioned
the list to me. # It might not really be a bad idea if Jean Starr could
find a high colonic colony to join. I am a little vague about them,
and Susan thinks they don't give them any more in the States. I'm not
quite sure just what happens or why people seem to like them so much.
Perhaps it is vaguely sexual. My, how I should hate to listen every
day to her woes! # I was much interested in the Brigadier's letter about
the pipes and the new car. Can one ever, in Britain, give a credit coupon
for thus and so much, so that the recipient can go in and choose his own
pipe or whatever? I believe the term for it on this side is a gift
certificate. # I am so glad you saw Cousin Jack. He is lonely and, I think,
a little frightened. # And glad you saw Marjorie and S.L.; obviously it
meant much to them. # And what a very nice letter from Caroline Fall. She
must be a remarkably nice girl, as her father is an equally remarkably good
man.

I get on, slowly, with Duncan's book on Hilda. I am startled
suddenly to realize that at the end of the war her age then was my age now.
What a net we have woven between the three of us.

All love that tie and bond,
Norman

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON
231 HGS
YALE UNIVERSITY
NEW HAVEN, CONN.

18 May 1967

Dearest Fido,

Today was a field full of flowers, with three letters from you to grace it. My tears join your own about Greenland, but I know it is impossible. There is really no decision to make; one must accept the decree of the gods. I will go some day, and maybe you will want to go too.

As to the move, I have always toyed with the idea of taking an apartment, which can be charged off as a business expense (so my tax man says) so long as it does not have a bed in it. Even this morning before I came to the office and your letters I looked at the basement of the building where my dentist has his office. It has 500 square feet, and with a humidifier would be habitable. I have been offered two rooms at Yale, but I fear these will be too small. Not counting Dusty Diamonds (but including Hilda's books) I have 450 feet of books to find room for, plus the space for nine filing cabinets, chiefly your and Hilda's papers. As for Goodrich Street we did think of that long ago, but the only spot we could build on would be in the back lot and this would be horribly expensive and almost useless for anyone afterwards.

Your news of Elsie is really alarming; I wish her doctor would speak to her severely, but I suppose her hearing is affected and she wouldn't listen (hearing of course means stubbornness.)

I like your friend and his flower watching boat. Do go with him.

A nice literary letter from Horace to you. It was written apparently before his fall, but I judge he must be able to go now to the New York publisher's party for his book, or one would not have gotten the invitation so recently. I plan to go in. I shouldn't but I think it would please him.

Sachie's letter about Osbert tears one's heart. It must sound cruel but I so much wish it could be over with for Osbert. What can life give him now?

Had a nice letter from Roy Phippen to whom I had written acknowledging the bronze handle. Naturally I glowed, and he seemed pleased at that. "In fact I was glad to send it to you because I bought it in Switzerland immediately on its arrival from Italy, and it would have been ridiculous if Mrs Bruher had had to take it back again with her." I told him about the lecture notes on the Syro-Hittite group, and he writes, "I should indeed be very grateful to see the notes about the bronze group we call the "Ku Klux Klan". I do not know the find spot at the moment, but they did come [illegally as you and I thought] from a dealer in Istanbul and when I see him I shall ask him." Then I mentioned the matter of the fig leaf on the Etruscan warrior, and got what I thought was an amusing paragpah from him, though not absolutely accurate in its opening, for you will remember how my tongue hung out at the figure when we were there with you last the spring of 1966, and you bought it when you saw it for the second time in December. But no matter; I had mentioned it as not having been mentioned in the description (as it should have been) and then asked him if this was characteristically done to Victorian pieces of this sort. "I am afraid," he begins, somewhat incorrectly, "that we bought the Etruscan warrior just a day or two before Mrs Bryher's

20 May 1967

Dearest Fido,

There was no first-class mail at all delivered to the
Graduate School this morning, so whether one from you was or was not
held back will never be known. But since I could not write you yester-
day, I deserve a day of silent reproof.

Yesterday morning was absorbed first by Kay Boyle who took
longer over breakfast than Susan and I usually do. She had come down
yesterday afternoon to sort over some of her papers stored at the Library.
I don't think she accomplished much, but it pleased her. She also brought
with her en route to New York most of the ms of the curious book she is
doing in collaboration with McAlmon. She is taking his _Being Geniuses_
and writing inter-chapters of her own remembrance of what she feels really
went on, as McAlmong told her. It sounds like a horrible mishmash, but
she wants to do it for his memory and has a publisher. I don't want to
get mixed up in it all, and although I like her very much as a person,
I don't really place any reliance on her discretion. On the other hand
I don't want to obstruct, because I very much want to get my hands on
the manuscript before it actually goes to the printer. I can then at
least raise a howl about what she says about Hilda and yourself. I wish
to God she'd never begun the thing; but my tactics must be a little as
with Moore on Aldington's biography. The public will certainly misunderstand my role; I hope you don't. Anyhow I took her and Gallup to lunch
at the cafeteria and then bade her farewell so far as I was concerned,
tho I am taking her to Horace's party in New York. She asks questions
and I try to set her straight.

The morning's chief occupation was with the lung men at the
hospital. They made me walk a treadmill, shirt off, so that since I was
standing still although my feet moved they could poke and feel what happened
as I gained exhaustion. Apparently the conclusions from the film were borne
out: the upper posterior sections of my right lung don't function because
of the pressure of my rib case so that as a result I have the deficiency of oxyg-
out. This is a form of emphysema but isn't a disease and so perhaps can be ameliorate
in time. I had a half hour's serious diagnostic talk with them before hand,
and I was delighted that they would talk frankly. I was rather startled to
see their pleasure when I said I had actually given up smoking, and they said
half the battle might be won by that alone. Indeed it has helped already,
although the more serious problem comes from my poor posture. Their only
suggested treatment at the moment was for me to take more exercise especially
to the point where exhaustion would make me breathe harder, thus forcing those
muscles to work. They will have their conference with the orthopedist and
the neuro-surgeon and we will go on from there. I find all this rather
nerve-shattering, by which I mean this sudden forced concentration upon one's
physical being. For in a sense I have always lived in the grace of ignoring
just that sort of reality. I am not sorry I did; I should have had no life
otherwise, or at least life with the particular privileges I have enjoyed
rather than earned.

In the afternoon I had the usual string of appointments, but
followed in this case -- no it began with a meeting of the officers of the

Connecticut Academy (where Ingholt returned, with thanks to you, the articles about Gellaert), and then my appointments, and then a meeting of the instructors in American Studies to go over the comprehensive exams taken by all seniors. I have fifteen eight-hour exams on my desk now, waiting for me to begin. But I have had to spend the day on academic papers of other and administrative sorts.

Then last night was the annual picnic (champagne and cold lob$see) on the cross-campus, of the Pundits. They sit on white cloths, served by uniformed waiters, eating and drinking and telling obscene stories in a loud voice to the audience of several hundred who crowd around the roped-off area. I have three police there, and stand in the corner by the champagne coolers as though I were a mother at a birthday party of six-year olders. One hour of it and then I sent them all off and went home to sleep for a half hour before I made an ate a peanut butter sandwich for my private picnic. I was tired, had no audience except Susan, and didn't even tell a clean joke.

21 May 1967

Dearest Fido,

The pile of fifteen fat examinations is as high as it was at the beginning. Obviously I hate to begin them, yet equally obviously I must. When I finish this I will. But there really is so much still to be done, and this afternoon I left Susan struggling to watch porch furniture which we'd like to have out on the terrace tomorrow afternoon when we give a cocktail party for fifty in honor of my two successors. Of course the weather has turned gray and cold, and the weatherman says it will be raining tomorrow afternoon. Still, it may change.

Last night we went to play bridge with friends, after a lawn party before dinner. At the moment I should much prefer sitting quietly and working at my desk. But life does get a little dull for Susan, and I can't say I blame her for wanting to stir. Actually the doctors say I should stir a lot.

Not much to report. I worked of course at the office this morning and was then met by Susan at noon when we went to the dedication of planting in the courtyard of the library in memory of a ten-year girl who died almost exactly a year ago of asthma. The doctor had come, given her a drug to quiet her and in the morning she was dead. She loved flowers and the parents thought of a fund to pick up spots at Yale that had grown rank. $30,000.00 was given in her memory by the family and friends. The party had been planned months ahead, and just at the beginning of this week the father (Alexander Vietor--the map man of the Vinland map--48 ys?) had a sudden operation for cancer of the lymphs. They unwittingly scheduled the operation the day after it was discovered on the exact anniversary of the child's death. Then they thought that too much and postponed it a day. His wife was simply superb in speaking at the ceremony, such quiet poise you have never seen as she referred to the child who would have loved the party because she always woved parties and wore pink to them, and the husband who couldn't be there but for whom the doctors each day gave better news to make today a happy occasion etc., and never missing the right tone once, nor letting her voice falter, or even to permit her tears which one knew were crowding to escape. Quite a woman!

I don't think I've written since the H.D. letters from Texas arrived. By which I mean the xerox copies of them. When you are over you must help me date them for Texas. One is, I am sure, actually written by you (as amanuensis) and signed by Hilda, at Am Strand. Asking for dope about Lawrence. I know your phrases. Then there are several to Edith, and one or two to Osbert. Plus all those to Charles Norman at the time he was writing the biography of Pound. Then an interesting series to Glen Hughes when he was writing his history of Imagism--these do tell a good deal. And lastly a very long and very useful series to F.S. Flint. I could not at first guess who "Frankie" was. His name was mentioned on several occasions between Hilda and myself, but I somehow got the impression they had hardly known each other if at all. Quite the contrary. Especially with Richard off to war Flint was her chief reliance one would guess. At least to him

all was poured out of her worries about R.A. and the war. It seems to me Hilda comes off very well in them; I must mention them to Moore, for I don't want him to take a biased posture in regard to those years.

Young Susan and the two grandchildren come for dinner tonight, so one expects the house to be lively. Or at least full of t.v. noises.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

22 May 1967

Dearest Fido,

A completely frustrating day. I have accomplished NOTHING, and my nerves are frazzled. This is not a good prelude to the departmental cocktail party we give later this afternoon, but I'll take a tranquilizer in my martini. Fortunately we have two maids and a martender to take care of it, so there will be no dishes for me to wash afterwards.

I left Kay Boyle's box of papers at the Library this morning-- she has her things stored in the Beinecke--and had no sooner stepped in to my office than Robert Duncan appeared. He is to be here this week, was most considerate but of course it was an hour before he left. Until luncheon time, when he came early and so gnawed another bone of time. I asked Roysce Smith to luncheon also, which was pleasant enough but by the time I had arranged for reading material for Duncan, enough to hold him over until Wednesday, a young doctoral candidate from the University of Pennsylvania appeared to use the Hawthorne material for the rest of the week. I had to find him a hotel room and then take him to the Libraryato settle him in; and so, what with the constant interruptions, and the several appointments that had piled up one on top of the other, I have not even waited for a martiniato go with my pill.

And only 1 and 1/2 out of the fifteen examinations done.

(At that point a longish interlude. Mrs Sherman had forgotten to tell me I was to call New York long distance about an H.D. matter. So instead of doing it before I began writing you I had to sit while the connection was painfully put through, I discovered that a California radio or tv station wanted to quote a poem by Hilda (the radio station had called the Yale Press before), I referred them to Grove, they wanted to know if they had to pay a fee; I said that was up to my representative, but thought: half the cost of the telephone messages would have laid a huge fee.

Your letters of the 18th, 19th, 19th, and 20th were in to make the day a rich one. But I've got to go home, powder my ears, put on my wig, and receive the guests.

Tomorrow is Horace's Dorothy Richardson party in New York. Just as Kay Boyle wanted to go, so does Duncan. I think they must live off the round of parties like this. I would grow crazy, but really from boredom.

23 May 1967

Dearest Fido,

I should be at my exams, but having no more than nodded
at your four letters which came yesterday, I ought perhaps to write
you at the beginning of this day since I must take the one o'clock train
for New York and Horace's party. There was nothing in the first mail
this morning, we each of us now seem to get letters en masse.

As to Quayle, I should not worry about it. What we already
have is a group of mss of Ballantyne's individually more appealing than
any he offers. And there are surely many many demands on everyone's
funds. I am taking _B the Brave_ with me to read on the train. I can
look again at the list with that knowledge in mind, an assessment being
easier when one knows what has been used by Quayle already. But my hunch
is I shall write him no. But we see. Anyhow don't worry about it; there
is no hurry for me.

As to doctors, it is paradoxically a blessing that there is
nothing so seriously wrong than emergency measures must be used. This is
all preventative, or holding one's ground at a very early stage of an
incipient battle. I shall breathe deeply, as they say, keep from smoking
which they insist on, take more exercise, and go on as before. You
mustn't let me dramatize myself; I certainly won't coddle myself. The
main thing is that I know, and know now.

Many thanks for the subscription to _Adam_. I remember once,
on a spring visit with you, running all over London to try to find a
copy of the Natalie Barney issue.

Much interested that the Hotsons are off so early to Sorrento.
The water can hardly have been turned on very long, but they have their
church group there, and the community activities, and a role as the intellectu-
al leaders of the area. Northford no longer affords those particular
satisfaction, and one feels that Leslie's research depends more on his
already accumulated jog-saw pieces than on a library. Actually I wonder
if they won't sometime sell their Northford house (the land must have
increased substantially in value), and buy a small winter house in Maine
for the cold months when they can't be by the water. It might make sense.
I gather they can manage the new car on their own.

I find it rather touching that Ines's papa left her the house.
This must be most unusual in Italy. As to the illegitimate sons one would
have thought perhaps a little. But they may not have helped him, and I
gather that people often feel that carelessly spilled seed can root itself.

I really am sorry about all the consequences of the visit to
Cetona. Too bad there isn't any Jules to take you down. Later you may
want to hire a special car and driver for such visits. Expensive but worth
it in order to save the boys and yourself. I do hope if you go that you can
see Romaine. She goes to Fiesole at the end of the month, and I wrote her
that if you did get to Florence you might perhaps be able to see her. She
very much wants to see you. I hope too, though I know you must dread it,
that you will spend an hour with Osbert. It would mean so much to him.
And no doubt I am greedy to know what his situation really is like. If
you do go, bring him my very best wishes; and to Romaine my affection.

I was interested in your comment about no women reviewers
for _Pilgrimage_. It does matter, though so many women simply pride themselves

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

on thinking as men. I have just finished reading Robert Duncan's section on *Pilgrimage*, a passion with him for many years, and he makes almost the same points that you do. We spoke of it this morning, and he had just been reading in *March Moonlight* which he remembered as from L & L. He commented on how though DR always sought for freedom for woman she found it was other women who tied her down. He is talking of the novel of course.

I had warned you of Needham's journal when I first read it. And said I could see he was no scholar. His account is almost like a schoolboy's diary, and of his talk with Dalai Lama, certainly the high spot, he says almost nothing. Still, I am in no way sorry that we made it possible for him to go -- you more than I since I only paid his salary during his absence, and his spending money -- for he had had a dream in the right way of dreaming.

I wonder what they will do for a Poet Laureate. The London rumors circulated here say that Bettmann is the favorite, with Day Lewis running second, and Robert Graves as an outsider. The politicos think however that the post will actually go to Mrs Wilson who wrote, you will recall, that poems in praise of the Soviet that has been so much reprinted in Russia.

Am pleased that Alan wants to get a job on his own. I gather they must have told him he doesn't stand real by a chance. The shock of reality may be worth much more in the long run to him than any superficial university training.

What a nice visit you must have had from sarasin. One does like him immensely.

The gypsy book sounds odd indeed, but I fear I sometimes read with a willing suspension of disbelief. I daresay he has knowledge no matter how he actually got it.

The launch in the Scillies sounds very much like the New Haven railroad; here the government is always intimating something might be done to help but never puts anything into affect. Stop the rr and a howl against the government will arise, and with it political flame. So the government will then help. I should think the case of the launch might be parallel.

The weather for our party yesterday afternoon turned out to be fair after all, so some could go out on the terrace, though most crowded around the bar with a fearful din. We gave it for the staff and executive committee to honor of the incoming chairman and incoming director of graduate studies. It turned out however for a few minutes to be in honor of us. There were a couple of speeches of praise and there was a gift of a Steuben glass whale, very pretty indeed, and as liquid in the quality of glass as the ocean itself. So this pretty well winds things up except for the commital services at the side of the grave.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

24 May 1967

Dearest Fido,

The confusion of my days (daze) becomes almost hilarious. It is not that some things do not get accomplished, but only that these are the wrong ones. For example, I picked up my new reading glasses this morning, waiting for the lenses to be inserted in the second pair. I then picked up the framed Hokusai watercolor, which did need picking up. Then I straightened out two corners of Yale addressed by a French student from abroad but in doing so he inserted the wrong letter in each envelope. (But couldn't they have guessed?) I then took to lunch the graduate student from the University of Pennsylvania who has come to work on Hawthorne, so he wouldn't feel completely ignored. (He was sent here by a friend.) Then I managed, somehow, to read the manuscript of a chapter of a dissertation. Then a committee came here to choose the recipients of awards for books (the best ones) written in the New Haven area last year, this for the New Haven Arts Festival, on this week. The awards to be given tomorrow.

I come back after dinner to see if I can't have some unbroken time with those damned examinations.

The party yesterday in New York was pleasant but I shalln't try to describe it to you in the fifteen minutes I have for this letter. Must then take it to the postoffice or it will never reach you, being too late now for the last pickup. Yours of the 21st and 22nd came today. I comment briefly. I do wish some way might be worked out for your going, even if it were to hire a car to drive the two of you to Cetona and leave you there to fend your own way back. Perhaps Islay could drive you into Rome. Getting off the train at five a.m. at Florence is a little too much for anyone.

I guess I am not altogether surprised that Coigny wishes you to stay with the Union for the time being, he having hinted that the matter of the taxes must be cleared up and cleared up now. It is much better for Beney's "illness" can be used as an excuse, or rather a true explanation, to the Swiss government. I gather too that C does not altogether approve of your planned yachting trip, lest anything happen before the portfolio's history is straightened out. There will perhaps be some extra back taxes to pay, so the yacht might prove to be too expensive anyhow. One can only see. I shall be eager to know what your final plans are for Italy. I shall risk at least a letter or two there.

Forgive this impossibly hectic epistle. I can't seem to focus my attention. I must do better after dinner.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

27 May 1967

Dearest Fido,

I did not write you yesterday; today I can do little more
than a promissary note. But I have been giving oral examinations for
the doctorate, sending in final recommendations for degrees, correcting
examination papers, getting my teeth filled, emptying my pockets paying
bills, and attending faculty meetings where I had to speak in support of
a newly appointed professor. In other words, trying to tie together all
the short strings of the year.

There has been nothing in the weather to distract me. Yesterday
we had a gale which reached 50 mph heights, and with rain which before it
stopped had sent down 2.35". The temperature was down below 40°F, and at
moments there were drops of snow, and farther inland up to as much as 2"
fell. It has been without question the worst spring in many years.

There was no letter from you today, but yesterday yours of the
23rd arrived. One will have to, I think, cooperate completely with Coigny
in the matter of back taxes. I was much worried about the past year when
I spoke with him; I think he had not quite yet caught up on previous
declarations. It had to do with the open ownership of Swiss shares and the
rather extraordinary and inexplicable shifts that Beney had made with your
stock. Since Beney brought it all out in the open, there was nothing Maitre
C could do but proceed in the open and then later shift back into quiet
recesses. Actually in one sense the greater the confusion the more likely
the Swiss authorities are to blame it all on Beney. But he warned me that
extra tax payments would be forthcoming, and you may find yourself a little
limited in resources for a bit. So I think definitely that we should not
go quail hunting.

I had of course always hoped that 'slay would drive up for you,
see the bankers and bring ou back with him. If he actually doesn't want to
be away from Kenneth for two and a half hours, then he himself must be getting
neurotic, and will be in as much of a bind as Kenneth. I rather wish he could
get completely away for a bit. Why not take Ines down and set her up as
the Elsie of Cetona. I joke of course.

As to Cetona it is unlikely I can get away before the possibility
of Ireland, but I can't tell you how grateful I should be if you and Elsie
popped to Copenhagen, saw Chris and his bride, and the exhibition. Then I
would know what it is in it.

One more exam to do tomorrow, and that chore will be out of the
way. Then I can get in a really decent letter.

27 May 1967

Dearest Fido,

I begin to feel a bit easier. This morning I finished the last of the comprehensive examinations, the grades are posted, and I was able to begin again at my desk. I have a letter of recommendation to write tomorrow (I did several today), but otherwise am in fairly good shape. I even got to cataloguing a half dozen or so newly-disasted Diamonds and put them on the shelf. Two Fenns, two Kingstons, and one Henty Dacoits which doesn't seem to be in the British Museum. Probably a reprint of some stories which appeared first in another collection.

Your letter of the 23th arrived this morning, so that I had a Saturday's tidbit after all. To return to yours of the 23rd, young Michael Williams really ought to have written Margaret Pratt at once. But sometimes I rather blame the parents who don't seem to drill the young in decorum. Miss Chudleigh's niece sounds pleasant. I think you must have enjoyed her, except for the fact that it took you from work.

Copenhagen? I am counting on you and Elsie for that. I shall be up to my ears in moving, and clearing up last minute administrative things, including an issue of the Newsletter we get out for alumni. Alas, I have done nothing with it since 1963. It is a good way of keeping track of former students. But you are of course right about the harm it does one never to take time off. I hope I can work out a newer regime, and think I can once the office chores are off my shoulders. I am more or less tempted by the convenience of the two rooms offered me in the Graduate School tower, as convenient even if too small, and with no charge for rent. This will mean I can try for a half-time secretary, and my own letters can be done by her, filing and the like. When I really retire in a few years I will of course have to take an apartment.

Much interested in the Settle book, but for the moment think I'd better read first when I come your side. I have such an absolute pack of things to be gotten through first, and thanked for, since most are gifts. Susan, by the way, is deep in Effie in Venice and liking it very much. Horace is perhaps too immersed for the time being, so I shall wait. Perhaps it will make a Christmas present.

I had no sooner said you were ignored by the editor of Edith's letters than a letter came to you. You will have to plan to allow time with us for going over the correspondence, in addition to the days for our trip to Gretchen. My idea for that is that you and I fly up, I hire a drive-it-yourself there, and we can take trips out of Halifax into the woods, if there are any.

I enclose a rather sad little note on Chichester written by a British correspondent of the New York Times, perhaps wanted to what he thinks Americans would like to hear. Also one rather frightening typewriter; what would it do with novels? I don't think I ever properly saluted you for the superb Agony of the ex cavalry officer and with with two labradors and cat called Fred who need four bedrooms. In just what combinations will they occupy the four bedrooms. What a saga for Havelock Ellis!

I really was glad to have gotten down for the D.R. party for Horace, although of course there was barely a moment to speak to him in, or to Marya either. I thought it better they should see the people who could be useful to them, or whom they seldom saw. Marya actually looked quite radiant, and obviously enjoyed the two orchids on her ample bosom. Horace on the other hand seemed tired and was completely white-haired in an old man's fashion. He was buoyed up obviously by the occasion and was always surrounded as he sat in his wheel chair. I was quite charmed by Catrina Hulbert, his nurse; she was completely natural, rather pink-cheeked in an English fashion, and at

ease completely. He is very lucky, as I have known from her letters. Glenway
Wescott made a point of coming early, as from the National Institute; Malcolm
Cowley and his wife were there; I met Stanley Burnshaw, Horace's editors, who has
manufactured so many projects to keep him busy. Dudley Fitts got him into the
game; there were the usual number of minor poets and critics whose names one
didn't catch, and the usual number of the dittos whom one knew from before. All
crowded in the back room of Miss Steloff's bookshop, the smoke thick, the punch
weak, the snacks drying up a little. There were some copies of the book on
sale, though Horace said he had only his own copy so far. So I bought one for
him to send airmail to you, and one to send airmail to Rose (to whom he dedicated
it), and I bought one for myself and four others for critics who wanted it. I
Edel said he had read well into it and liked it, so I fancy he must be doing a
review. I hope so for he will be kind. I have read about 40 of the 90 small
pages so far (a tiny book for $4.95) and like it very much. It is an introduction
to D.R. through her book -- Horace quotes constantly and at length, this is the
bulk, and does so appealing -- but it is even more an introduction to the book,
like the very long ones that big books used to have when reissued. It is better
written than some of his prose, is less strained, less pedagogically condescending
in that schoolmasterish manner he occasionally adopts in reviews. I find it sensi-
tive in the best sense, but you will be a better judge than I could hope to be.
It won't get in the way of the Glikks book, nor could she have written such a book.
I rather think you will like it; I certainly hope so. It is not quite the book that
Rose expected, but I understand now that Horace temperamentally simply couldn't have
done the Edel type. As for the dedication I think she will be delighted with that;
no one could devalue it more. I hope he will inscribe the copy he sends her.

And so the day draws to a close. I will work at least tomorrow morning
and will drop you a note then.

All love,

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

18 August 1967

Dear Miss Dobson,

I hardly know how, properly, to apologize to you for this
delay in reading the manuscript of "Guests of Existence" (nicely titled)
which has now stretched into almost exactly a year since you addressed it
to me. I wanted of course to read it without the interruption of other books
and papers, for I am always respectful before a manuscript and do not want
to interrupt what a book has to say while it is speaking. Such a free
period was something I was never allowed in a year of doubled administrative
duties, but now that I am free from such duties for the first time in twenty
years I have begun to know what a marvel freedom of this sort is. I am
tucked away in a room on the tenth floor of the university library. Books
are around me and there are two large tables to spread papers on. Who knows, I
may be able to start out again on my own writing.

At any rate I have at last been able to spend the last few
days with your manuscript and thank you immensely for the privilege. A fine
intelligence lies behind it. What an immense amount of study and experience
and sympathy has gone into it. And what a broad canvass it covers as it pre-
sents its comparisons. This is, as you well know, not simply a comparison of
the USSR and the UK but equally a series of juxtapositions within these two
complex states. The book is a documentary in the best sense of the word, and
by making your Valentin-Valentine move from group to group and up and down
within the two societal hierarchies, you have covered with economy far more
than a textbook could manage. Your ingenuity is remarkable; so of course is
your sympathy as you approach and model your characters. And even more evident
is the power of your analytical vision.

Perhaps at moments the analytical strength overcomes the
fictional power, and he is aware that Valentine moves to a fresh sphere in order
to bring in the particular problems with which this sphere is primarily concerned.
This is the manner of the picaresque novel turned towards documentary utility;
there is always adventure but the adventure is not so important as the setting
and what is learned. Still, a documentary novel has its own rules and rationale,
and you have managed them very ably.

As a documentary it is obviously a British book. The angle of
vision is British and the material is based on "this gay fresh lively country."
As you have said, "I felt glad to be viewing the British class structure from
basement level...We met frequently, and I was able to straighten him out a little."
It was an Englishman you were straightening out, and although I was straightened
out too I don't think there is any doubt but that the first publication would have
to be a British one. American publishers might take sheets if it is a success in
England, but I feel very certain he could not be persuaded to originate the publica-
tion.

One can be very wrong about such matters. I myself have been wrong
often than I have been right when playing chess with a publisher's mind. But
my serious conviction is that you should submit it first to a British publisher,
and do so before you try any rewriting. If one does take it, he will have his own
editorial ideas of what ought to be done or might be done.

I do want to say what a marvelous character Lynette is. She is
sage beyond her years, as Hester's Pearl was in *The Scarlet Letter*, or Graham
Greene's urchin in *The Power and the Glory*. When she cries out, "Don't preach,
comfort me Valentine", one forgets she is a child of eleven, -- no nymphet but only
one more lonely and bewildered adult.

If there is perhaps a problem which this suggests it is that

you

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

often speak so straight out from yourself that the ages and sexes of speakers
become confused. Characters often speak in phrases of intellectual speculation
which are truer to the subject than to the speaker's experience or station or
gendered mode of speach. It is often difficult to remember how young Valetine
actually is, just as it is even hard sometimes to know whether he is a boy or a
girl. The verbs and adjectives you choose for him are often those more usually
associated with girls. For example: "He pranced into a restaurant." A woman
might have said he "pranced", no boy-man would say it of himself. Nor "I took
the iron from her, and danced around shouting." This is girl-gayness. But perhaps
as you accurately remarked, Americans assert their maleness more strenuously than
Englishmen do, and I am hearing all this with American ears which not even my
several years in England ever quite properly tuned.

I did like the book, which is packed and will be posted to you surface
tomorrow on on Monday. It told me about Russia and how an Englishwoman looked at
Russia. It told me about England, and equally interestingly how an Englishwoman
looked at England looking at Russia and a Russian. I have had my moment in the
"high Dome". Thank you.

Sincerely,

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

19 August 1967

My Fido,

What is there to report at the tail of a sultry August Saturday? Not very much to enliven you, though you will hardly need that in all the gaity of the Schaffner household. Last night Susan and I went to dinner in town with Wallace Stevens' daughter, or rather chez elle since she has bought a house in town, filled it with paintings and books he had bought, and settled down very comfortably indeed. She presented me with one of Stevens's flamboyant neckties: he was extremely op and pop about the neck. Perhaps I should save it to be buried in. These relics of the great are always a problem. I remember being somewhat disconcerted when Bill Benet's widow presented me with Elinor Wylie's brassiere. I suppose I should have had it preserved in bronze, as they do with small children's shoes. Or I could have had it cast in silver as a pair of drinking bowls, like those made from the casts of Helen's breasts. But with Miss Wylie they would not have been useful otherwise than as demi-tasse. Finally I presented the brassiere to Dudley Fitts who much admired the fair Elinor. I do not know what use or disposition he made of them. I never asked. I thought this wiser.

I began the day at Goodrich Street, lugging a box of old libretti down the basement, and packing three cases with books to come to the HGS office, mostly poetry. After luncheon I cadged a visiting scholar to help me carry them in from the car, and now they rest waiting like so many other books for the new cases. But I have transferred a few more to the Library, and such a re-shuffling you never saw. I work against time, for I want the surface of things to be beautiful against your coming. Underneath the surface? ... well, the less that is discussed the happier I shall be.

And I have spent most of the time during the intervals by writing letters and filing so that my desk will not phaze me on Monday. I shall not try to come in tomorrow unless it pours. If it does then I will work some more on the Goodrich Street cellar.

And, oh yes!, the mosr wonderful letter arrived from Petrie, filled with such sage and extended suggestions and help that I did not dare put my nose into its many pages. For if I had I should have done eſſe than enjoy its savor. I will do that over the weekend, and then proceed to the travel bureau. All this is, you understand, for October. For September I have just received much that will be useful about Yarmouth. Somehow I had got Halifax into my noggin. Yarmouth will be much more picturesque. Had I known she was there we could have boated across from Bar Harbor to lunch with her and then return. You will like this lower part of the cape; it is, as I remember it, very much like Maine.

All love,

21 August 1967

Dearest Fido,

Welcome! I hope this letter reaches you in time. I waited until

the early afternoon mail to see if there was a letter from you, and this has
postponed the writing. I hope it will be there when you arrive. But who knows.
I hope too that you jotted down the correct new office number for me, which I
gave you. In yours of the 16th you jotted down the old one. Now to reach me
at the off ce you must dial 203-865-6534. This is not a Yale number but a
direct one to me and rings in both the library and the Graduate School tower.
The Branford number is 203-488-0237.

I was delighted to have your letters of the 16th and two of the 18th
today. None for the 17th, but then accompanying Saturday's Gardner News was
a separately wrapped issue for July 16th. So the mails go.

Petrie's letter of travel lore was superb as you knew it would be.
verything was jotted down, but I will not try to repeat it since you so soon
will be able to read it yourself. I went first thing this morning to the travel
bureau, having made a possible selection of hotels, and will now pray for the
best. We will fly from New York to Dublin on Monday October 2nd, but can't
arrive until the morning of the 3rd because of flight schedules. The following
Friday we go for two nights to Petrie, and then on a tour which she has nicely
laid out. She comes to Dublin on the Thursday as our guest as drives back with
us (I will have car and driver) on Friday. Monday the 16th we plan to fly to
London, and will fly back to the States on the following Monday the 23rd. This
being the limit of our 21-day cheap fares. I must be back for a meeting of the
Smithsonian (now rescheduled for the 30th) and a lecture I give in northernmost
Vermont on November 3rd. So, alas, Kenwin must be out this year; and I think this
no time for Cetona with Kenneth's lingering weakness. It will be wonderful if you
actually can be in London when we are there. We can plan some splendid ausflug.
But otherwise will try not to get in your way with the girls and the Brigadier.
And Pup.

What a thing about the consulate and Coigny. She will not dare
keep even dogbiscuits for bulldogs in the safe. The Lord have mercy on us. And
the Lord have mercy on us in New Haven too, for we had our riots on Saturday night
and again on Sunday. Fortunately no guns were fired and only a few buildings
burned. Mostly it was liquor shops broken into an looted by young black hoodlums.
Most of the Negros are apparently sick about it, New Haven having had such a proud
record of achievement. There is a curfew again tonight, and it was startling when
I went by the hotel this morning to see State Guardsmen come out and get into a
car carrying rifles. At the shore of course this does not touch us, but one of
the sections is not too far from Goodrich Street.

I will not try to write again to Long Island but to the Stanhope instead.
Give my love to Perdita and John and the children.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

22 August 1967

Dearest Fido,

At least today I've managed a little something. That is,

I've written the review (the reason for double-spacing) of Wagenknecht's so-called psychograph on Whittier. Why let myself in for it I can't imagine, except that now with a little more leisure I'd like to force myself to write a bit more for the public. But the cost in hours is dear indeed. I'll put the typescript (a shortish review (5-600 words) to the side for overnight. I may have to rip it up in the cold air of morning.

Your two letters of today came as of your second letter of the 16th and yours of the 19th. Such confusion.

You will no doubt be cursing me at the Stanhope for not having your Hermes, though as you know the desk will at any time rent a typewriter for you at a nominal fee, a fee far less than excess baggage overseas or the wear and tear on the spirit from having to lug it. And I am glad you have the right telephone number, even though I discovered this morning that I had the 9 a.m. appointment which will mean it is I who will call you. # I was interested in Marya's letter, though it still troubles me that everything is put on such a combative basis. She has really gotten so that she permits herself to enjoy nothing; I really wonder if she actually enjoyed the cruise. I heard in her letter about how she shut herself into a corner of the library so she could go over old scraps of poetry, but never a word of going ashore or what she saw there. I don't mean that she should have written another poem about the fountains or the pines of Rome, but surely their splash would be a change. They live like characters in a book they have invented. #So good at any rate to know that you go out and that you have a new watch to tell time by when you do. I shall have to hold your hand and learn how to count up to twelve as I look at your wrist. # If you did want to see Sachie and we could accompany you that would be bliss indeed. But you will know best what is appropriate. I thought perhaps I ought to go down to see the Quail, and you and Susan might find it fun. I firmly will not go for overnight, but might stop in after lunch for an hour. The package of mss is in your closet at the shore waiting for your arrival. # You have my full permission really to yowl about Kenwin, Elsie, Ines or whatever you wish. That is my birthday present. If best we can postpone the howls until Nova Scotia and the down east gales. # Glad you're out of the Eric White visit. Quite apart from other considerations I find him boring. Please do not ask me to take you to him while we are in London.

Since Prince Charles may not have sent his report card home to you, I enclose his report as printed in the Gardner News. Oddly, I should have thought a Jack of Hearts would have been bi-lingually good in French from the cradle, nanny-wise. I don't mean naturally in terms of the common market but of common sense.

No word as yet from Yarmouth, but there is hardly time. I did get in today's mail a requested report on the Sachs Fund from Pokross who says he will be glad to see us whenever convenient. Since the only planes to Yarmouth fly out of Boston, we might perhaps combine it with one end or the other of our visit to Mrs Baker.

Now for a bit of business which I hope you'll find it possible to

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

do during your first week in New York before you come up here. This to
make life easier later both for you and for me, and because I'm not really
sure that Prutting actually will take up all your time.

The chief is the hope that you can get the Gregory's out of the way.
Horace really does crave visitors, and is at 400 East 34th Street, N.Y.C.
at the Rusk Institute for Rehabilitation. He is said to be kept busy until
well into the afternoon, but if you phone the Institute or Patrick you
could learn what the Visiting Hours are. I did not find the number in the
book, probably because I looked it up under Rusk rather than New York University
Hospital, of which it is an adjunct. Ask the telephone operator to do it for you.
He is in Room 410. You really won't be able to conceal that you've been here
so don't try, and having seen him you'll have to see Marya too. Otherwise you
and I will have to devote an entire day to a drive to Palisades. So couldn't
you have her to lunch. Or, better, have her and Patrick to an early dinner;
and he could put her on the bus for home?

Then Chester Page of course. And I should think Marianne Moore. She
has just been to Eterborough, New Hampshire, to receive the MacDowell Colony
Medal. She never went there as a camper, but Glenway Wescott was chief of the
award committee. Glenway is now the major domo of the establishment. Annie
Reich I imagine will not be back, and so you will want to save time for her
on your return to the city. Whether Jean Starr is or is not back from her
cure I don't know, but I imagine you will want to see her. And of course there
are the Urzidels. Now that you are coming only once each year to the States --
I hope eventually you will want to come oftener -- there is almost too much to
crowd in. England on the other hand becomes easier, with the many trips and
your release from the need to go always to the Scillies. Is Helen to be in
New York for your earlier arrival? I rather imagine she will already have
left.

It tires even me to contemplate all that you have to do. Have your
tests first, lest the Prutting think you a wreck.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

23 August 1967

My Fido,

Your hurried note of the 21st was in the noon mail. There may of
course be still another from Zurich, but I shall have heard your voice
first. I only wish I might be at home in time to phone tonight but we
go to Lizzie and you will be exhausted enough to go to bed early. I only
hope the dinner at Lizzie's will go off all right. The bank called this
afternoon to say she had overdrawn her account this month. What can one
do!

I dutifully took the wash to Mrs Heida this morning. She reported
that everything had been peaceful in her neighborhood, though it must be
85% colored. There was another cuffew last night as of 8 p.m., but tonight
it is to take effect only at 11. Last night was quiet and one hopes all is
finished.

I picked up pictures for the new office at the house last night, and
stopped at the cabinet maker's to see (a) if he had begun the chair--he hadn't;
and (b) if he would come to the office later in the day to hang them--he said
yes of course, but he didn't. Then to the glazier's to leave a picture whose
glass had been broken, and so to the office. Where I looked over the review,
checked the quotation which I had taken down with many errors, retyped it since
I no longer have Mrs Sherman's help, and at noon put it in the mail along with
several other notes, like those I have been writing this afternoon in order
to clear my desk before I begin the introduction to the collected essays of
Randall Stewart who helped me start out on Hawthorne.

A long letter in today's mail from Rose Odle about Edel's bookreview of
Horace. Much irked of course, and I fear life as a whole irks her these days,
but there is much to be said on her side. Edel has become a good deal like a
rabbi converted to a bishopric, and combines the law with the laying on of hands.

I am reminded that in your first week in New York you should by all means
look at the exhibition of royal treasures at the Metropolitan. It is Hoving's
first show and said to be finely mounted. One goes for that rather than for the
treasures. It comes down on Labor Day, so you could not postpone it. Do report
on it for us.

The weather has been cold and dreary again today, quite our worst summer
in decades. We shall have to welcome you with a fire if it keeps up. No word
as yet from Gretchen Baker, but we still have lots of time.

All love,
Norman

24 August 1967

Dearest Fido and My Fido (you are both),

As I shall have told you before you
read this all is in order at the Stanhope, and they will be waiting for you
whenever you arrive on Sunday. I said you might be there late (that is,
after six) so don't worry. I should imagine John would want as much of the
day as possible at the shore. It was good to hear you voice this morning,
and I was sorry to have been in such a rush. It was stupid of me to have
forgotten I had a 9 o'clock appointment with the podiatrist. After that I
stopped at the house and collected a few things, went on to have duplicates
made to the keys for my new Graduate School offices, and then (unsuccessfully)
tried to get you a science fiction which has become a really big best seller.
It is a feally "in" book, but all dealers are sold out of it and the reorders
haven't come. It has contributed the word "grok" to the English language,
a word used by a gentle 22nd-century Martian and means : to understand thoroughly"
or "to dig" (if you know what that means). It is Robert Heinlein's *Stranger in
a Strange Land* and would have made the perfect birthday present for you. But
I fear I must give up, so if you see it Brentano's buy it for yourself and charge
my account when you get here.

Once back to my office and there the
carpenters were finishing taking down the coatrack and putting in the new book-
cases. One waits now for the painters to repaint the hall and the ceiling
where water drained from the bathroom above, and all this completed I can begin
to put the books and the room in order. It is exciting and when the men had
left I sat and contemplated. Actually there was not time to do anything else
before a luncheon (sandwich) meeting of the executive committee of the Inter-
national Student Center to discuss the long-range plans. I did however manage to
get a bookdealer over and sell a few more mildly rare books (all old ones of mine
I no longer cherished or which fitted no patterns) before I went out.

And this p.m. I put some books on the shelves
and then came here to write you. Now I must leave to go home to talk about the
sale of the land I want to buy at the shore.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

25 August 1967

Dearest Fido,

It was good, again, this mo rning to hear your voice on the phone;
but alas for the talks that must be postponed until we are together. It isn't
a sen se of economy that kept me from an extended talk, but simply a sense that
there could be no privacy for you, that I was in a sense robbing Pup and the
others of you even if we talked simply about plans for the latter part of your
visit. At any rate I feel sure that it was a wise move to go first to her, as
well as a practical one.

Your lines of the 20th came yesterday, a little out of order but none
the less welcome. And I was particularly interested in your account of the Ameri-
can deserters. I wonder what the real score is. Certainly I have never known a
war which so many Americans dislike. Mostly I think because it doesn't become a
war in which people can emotionally become involved. And like the armpies in
Europe, their length of stay has no horizon. It is a war of which even the news
stories have long since become boring. There are no lines to advance, no hills
to be captured, only numbers to be proudly cited, like bags of grouse or pheasant
in season. Yesterday we killed 496. Day before yesterday it was 319. One knows
they don't know; they simply have to say something. And yet I am not that much
against our being in Vietnam; it is a responsibility of empire. And the results
have not been that nil, even the consequences within China. But I am often glad
not to be young any more.

A later letter from Mrs Baker brought descriptions of the camp where
we are to stay. It should be fun: we can play deck tennis and suffleboard, and
go deep-sea fishing and buy souvenirs. Actually she has engaged rooms, which can
be delayed of course. But if you don't have to go back to New York on the 5th,
we can go to Boston on the 6th, see Pokross that afternoon or the next morning
and then fly on to Yarmouth on the 7th. I think we should have at least three
full days there, to explore the inlets and the Loyalist country. And there is a
Viking rune stone! You will find it a little like Maine but perhaps pooererand
wilder. I think it might be fun to take a spin outside if the weather is good.

If? It has rained the entire day. These are times to try one's soul,
asPaine put it; but we need times to dry one's soul.

I finished re-reading Cournos's autobiography, for Tuesday noon I drive
to Swarthmore, outside of Philadelphia, to spend the night with his stepson and
go over whatever relates to Hilda. I come back the next morning. I hate the go,
but this is my one chance; and I do want to get straight what I can. I shall
reread *Bid Me to Live* and take along a copy into which to transfer Cournos's caustic
remarks. And read Dorothea Yorke's letters to him about the book.

This noon I entertained de Nagy, who dedicated the book to Hilda and
myself. He is on his way back to Basle where he is to teach American literature.
There and at, oh dear whatever is two hours by train. A pleasant person. Perhaps
I should swing by and see him and the zoo and our good doctor.

Later I spent time with the cabinet maker hanging pictures in my office.
There are rather too many of them now, but it does help to make the room seem

warmer. They finished doing the painting --that is, what they are going to do, not as much as I had thought.
So now there is nothing but time and patience to keep me from putting it into enough order to carry you across
the threshold. If this is appropriate to the christening of an office. Perhaps it would be better to carry
a typewriter across the threshold since there is none there now.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

26 August 1967

Dearest Fido,

This is, as you would say, more to keep the continuity
than anything else. Susan and the Hoblitzelles (her sister and husband
from next door) came in town at seven for dinner with me at Mory's,
so I stayed later than usual at the office and then at my HGS rooms
moving books idly from one spot to another. Alas the shelves on the
extra cases are fixed in place, and as always when that is the case
they are not quite high enough for any except the absolutely routine
size. This makes it difficult to keep all the books by an author
together.

The weather is, as you will know equally, wretched. Too
bad for the grandchildren who prefer to play out of doors, and a
little hard on Susan who has to take them for the afternoon and
overnight while the mother goes to a concert in Newport. A poor
night for that too. But we enjoy having them; the mother will be
back late so it is simpler to have them sleep at our house.

I wait now for an understandably disgruntled editor of
a collection of essays by Randall Stewart, an old friend of mine
who brought me into the Hawthorne game. I had promised a foreword
by August 1st, but absolutely have not been able to concentrate on
it. That can be this week's task.

I will call you Monday the Stanhope, or you call be--
perhaps that is better. No person to person, which is more expensive;
just ask for the number and if I'm not there by some chance no one
will answer. If I am, then I will be I.

All love

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

28 August 1967

Dearest Fido,

What an unexpected pleasure to have an Easthampton
letter from you in this morning's post, especially so after your denial
of having been able to write or mail anything wile with Perdita.
Leslie's note of thanks, which you included, was most genuine; he
does deepy and truly appreciate all you have done for him.

As to my letters to you, it was I think a godsend that
the lights went out on your arrival so you couldn't read them until
the next day. For they said nothing, being in a sense little more
than billets doux. I had by the way in today's rather heavy mail a
nice reply from Silva Bobson; she has apparently gone on to another
novel. I did find the book interesting, although ina literary sense
for the wrong reasons. But what is one to do?

This sounds like a splendid solution to the car problem
for Valentine, and rather more appropriate to his preference than a
shiny new one would be. But Perdita obviously must need a replacement
after her house of taxi service for all the children each day.

A letter from Marya in the mail, having received your
letter and being distressed that I did not think she was grateful
enough for her trip. I really hadn't meant to suggest more than a
correction of Horace's letter to you for this particular item. But
it is all difficult and one can't blame them for being confused. They
ask each time if I'm absolutely sure any gifts are not inconveniencing
me. If I say they are, I'm licked in that direction! if I say of course
not I don't even notice them, which is to say no they are no inconvenience,
then why shouldn't they want and expect more of what is a convenience to
them and no inconvenience to me?

Yesterday afternoon I spent at the house desperately tidying
up before your arrival, like a frantic Elsie. And then to the office
where no amount of desperation will suffice, though I did perhaps move
a number of books to make a veneer of respectability. But oh how your
tidy instincts will sniff and snort! Outwardly I am sure you will be
jovial and forgiving; but inside you will murmur how could he how could
he!

And then at night and this morning I finished reading Cournos's
*Miranda Masters* which is about Hilda and R.A. and himself, and the musician
and Arabella and so forth. One wonders. He does catch a good many of her
mannerisms and her nature. At any rate it seems important for me to go to
Swarthmore while I can, and Cournos's stepson promised to let me see J.C.'s
annotated copy of *Bid Me to Live*, these extra letters them Hilda to him
that J.C. did not sell to Harvard, and Arabella Yorke's letters to J.C.
about *Bid Me to Live*. Satterthwaite, the son-in-law, is chairman of English
at Swarthmore and I must go before the term begins, since both he and his
wife teach. I go after lunch tomorrow --it is the far side of Philadelphia--
have to spend the night with them, alas, and return on Wednesday morning.
Two days out. But I shall be back in time to open my arms to you on Friday.
There will be no point in calling me Wednesday, and even Susan will have left
early for New York. But I will call Thursday to know how things go.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON

231 HGS

29 August 1967

Dearest Fido,

There are as many complications for going away over night as for over year. I started out by having to take the laundry a day early since I won't be here tomorrow; then because Heidi was to go at 9 on a senior citizen trip to Rhode Island I had to take her to the place the buses centered. Then to the house to pick up a typewriter, and after that to the broker's to give over a stock certificate sold yesterday and to the bank to cash a necessary check, and to buy a bottle of whiskey to take my overnight host (I loathe this gifting to one's hosts), and then to get gas and oil. Thus the greater part of the morning, and I suspect your stay in New York is a little like that, what with trying to fit people and museums and shopping in.

But I am very glad indeed that all seems to have been favorable with your tests thus far. And it will be rather fun to take a new treatment. What a proud guinea pig!

Thursday morning when I am back at work again, I will phone Prokross and make arrangements for our call on him. I already have the financial report for you to see. Our conversation can be on the future.

Last night we were taken out for dinner by a man from Bridgeport (a garrulous but amusing Jewish widow) and his son (whom I seem to have advised by letter that the University of Dublin would be fun, as it turned out to be) in order to meet the Provost of Dublin University (Trinity College), a very engaging Scots-Irishman whom they had taken to Quebec, Expo, and then Toronto.

I waited until after lunch to see if there was anything to send on to you, and there was. So it was worth waiting for; but now I must set off if I am to complete this incredibly long drive before dinner time. Your Monday morning letter from the Stanhope was also in the mail. I have never met Jimmy Daniels but knew that Pup and John kept in touch with him. John did suggest his coming to Hilda's burial, but I rather wet blanketed it for her brother's sake.

Hope all your goals are achieved. Don't worry about Marya; we can drive down and back in an afternoon easily, perhaps after Nova Scotia.