2

There's a very famous picture of his going for a song. But not one of the "Nostalgias of the Infinite" or "Melancholy of Departure" ones - no toy train on the horizon or abandoned arcades and torrid light, but one which was among the first surrealist paintings ever done. If I owned one that's the kind I'd want - however, - I suppose you got my account of getting the loan of an early Picasso and a Renoir in New York's return for leaving some of the fittings in the house. Trouble is, when the time comes to part with them I shall pout and be furious. The Picasso you probably know, at any rate from reproductions. It's a 1902, impressionist period, called "The Kiss" An ouvrier in the twilight embracing a woman in a red blouse. Behind the outline of distant houses on a hill. Obviously Montmartre. Little avenue of trees below them on the left. They are in one solid, columnar, almost phallic form. It is lovely. The Renoir is very small - a view over madly sunlit olive trees to the Mediterranean, with a tiny farmhouse far away.

Forgive this if it sounds too trivial. I don't feel we need or ought to write about the other things - we know all about them. I do hope your fuel campaign is successful. It's fine that criticism is not ruled out. Here, since the war began, war rhythm is not fully established, authorities are very touchy about criticism. I suppose it is most important to hurry in big matters, as you had to, and when they're taken care of, one has time to tidy up what is obviously hasty or unnecessary. There's unquestioned unity here, but still traces of isolationism here and there. But that too is giving way, for even the ostriches have to take their heads out of the sand once in a while to breathe.

I expect to stay in N. Y. all summer - the only country places I know are miles from stations, and one cannot use the car any more. I think I shall seek permission from the Mayor to go around in shorts. It seems that one benighted idiot, with nothing better at times like this to think of, wanted a law forbidding the wearing of bathing shorts anywhere beyond 150 yards from the water. Isn't it wonderful how always in a crisis, someone will start crusading for the obsolete, and flounder in a swamp of fantastic irrelevance! Bombs may fall on New York, but he is worried only by covering people down to the knee.

I have sent you the Elliott Paul. Not a good book really, but very readable. I like so much the new Werfel - the Song of Bernadette - about Lourdes. More for Kat than you, but lovely to read.

Perhaps we'll really meet soon. Can you quite believe it? Here, there- it doesn't matter, as long as it happens.

Love to all - I never stop missing you -

There seem to be many enquiries for Sinbad - he is staying for the present with Marco Carsoni in the country, and he and Rex meet and growl and brindle but break down very quickly and spend the rest of the day romping over the flower beds. Sinbad is beautiful but incredibly dumb. I'm looking for a spouse pour lui.

154 EAST 71ST STREET
NEW YORK

22 June 42

Darling Fido,

your wonderful 19th and 20th letters arrived
together with one from Kat. Day of bliss! I all
but wept reading about Facade and the Schönberg.
Yes, I know the Pietquot Lunaire - Howard Putzel
has a recording of it. I find him very exciting.
Schönberg, I mean. Especially his later ebullitions
Earlier things like Verklertes Nacht are perhaps
sentimental? How I envy that evening! What
a thrust to the vitals to read of the Cafe Royal
and luncheon with Uncle N. and Edith Sitwell!
Indeed such times must make up for so much else.
I hardly know where to begin. Who is Monty? You
often allude to him, but I've no idea who he is.
Of course the best music comes from inland races,
or anyhow from people born inland - Austria and
Germany - I hope Monty didn't mean Russia! We
are to hear, by the way, the 7th Shostakovich
symphony which has been flown here recorded on
film. The 5th is better than the 6th, which
descends to completely banal and boisterous
bangs. They say the 7th is wonderful. Seafaring
England did produce Purcell and to a large extent
Handel not to mention the tenuous but distinguished
William Walton...however, this is a fascinating
subject on which one could discourse for pages.

I'm glad you liked Reflections in a Golden
Eye. Yes, I know Carson McCullers well - she is
an enchanting person, long and lanky, quite the
most honest-minded girl I've ever met. We became
friends in an instant, you know how one does
sometimes. Unfortunately she's buried in the
Deep South. Bessie Brewer fell all over me because
she'd heard I liked Carson. Andre Breton is
starting a magazine called VVV. Editor will be

Robert Motherwell, old Carlos Williams is in on it
also Max Ernest and Matta. Very surrealist.
Abel, Bunuel, Calas, Chagall, Duchamp, Duthuit,
Tanguy, Onslow-Ford, Chas Henri ditto, Masson,
etc.

I do, do hope you get your visa. Of course,
you may freeze to death here too, for a fuellei
famine is predicted for the eastern seabord, and
you know N. Y. can be cold!!! N. Y. looks so
wonderful at night now, not black, but dimmed-out.
Very mysterious, like black crags against the sky.
Sad about Tobruk. When will the tide turn?
You would fly over, wouldn't you. Don't atte
a sea-passage.

I shall stay here this summer. It's not
too hot, at least yet, and the apartment seems
cool and airy. We are rationed for gas and try
not to use the car. I have a bicycle! Great fun.
Have you one? Don't snort, they're easy. Though
Elinore couldn't keep on hers and macerated her
ankles unmercifully before she learned how not to.
They live at Princeton now - very pleasant, like
England. Sciaparelli is near, and as she is a great
deal of fun, it makes visits enjoyable. Have you
read the new Waugh book? Not good, is it, except
for a few spots. And the new Maugham is terrible.
Poor old Willie! And the H. G. Wells! I thought
it was like finding in your hand something that had
been combed out of a hairbrush. I liked so
much the Werfel - it's such a best seller it's
bound to come out in England. Not for you, but
certainly for Kat.

Rex and Sinbad send love. Darling Rex,
such favouritism is shocking! Sinbad is so
winning - everybody's spoon of custard. And Marco
has made him a lap-dog. He climbs, the whole 75 ft
pounds of him straight onto your groaning knees the
moment you sit down. And then looks indescribably
silly, trying to fit in wretchedly uncomfortable
contortions. Rex snorts with disgust and puts his
big jowls between his front paws, and goes to sleep.

Am keeping more news for my letter to Kat.
So you can read each other's. All love, and I'm
terribly excited that you may be here - DO, DO!

20th July 1942

154 EAST 71ST STREET
NEW YORK

Darling Fido,

I have had all your letters so far, the
last from Renishaw. Tonight I am going to Englewood
to see Elizabeth Bergner in a revival of (yes, Maple
you've guessed!) Escape Me Never. That title
begins to be horribly true. I'm going with Lenya
and we'll go behind afterward, so I'll keep this
letter open and give you all news. I think I'll
It will be fun to see her again, in person. Lenya
knows her from of old, naturally, and remains one of
her fans, although allowing herself a free hand
in good, Rabelasian derision. Unfortunately there
is a quite devastating heat wave, so poor Lizel
will wilt, I am afraid, and perhaps be too ill to
appear.

I went away for the week end and came across
these snapshots taken early this Spring, and thought
they might amuse - can you tell which is Rexli?
Well, he's nearest the camera. Don't you think they
look handsome against the frozen waterfall? I
must say I wish I were sitting right beside on
that waterfall right now, just as you see it. It
isn't pleasant to be half-cooked - braized, as
it were, in one's own oil.

Yesterday Toscanini broadcast the 7th
Symphony of Shostakavitch. O dear! I could only
think of it as pep music for a girl-guides march past
the Kremlin. Worse, they had ballyhooed it as
having been written more or less under fire, which
might excuse many irregularities, but not the kind
of Baden Powell up-boys-and-at-'em, wholly
middleclass, wholly commonplace and vulgar excesses
No doubt it was written to order, like incidental
music say to Mrs. Miniver, and no doubt no
Heroic Symphony is conceivable in the chaos and
tragedy and anxiety and stress of violent war as
it is actually happening. Later perhaps he may

redeem himself, when he has perspective, but this
tendency toward pamphleteering which infects his
later work is, I'm afraid much what happened to
people like Pudovkin and Eisenstein in films; enforced
social-and class-consciousness in art are an
anachronism! This new effort is like an unwieldy
national anthem, and no more musical. Sad, for I
had hoped it might prove thrilling beyond almost
anything else contemporary. Well, next time
perhaps. He is still a fine musician and will
surely come back. I'll still take Beethoven's
Eroica! Or, for that, Shostakovitch's First.
Glad to hear Perdita is appreciating the Masters.
I trust she is not missing Mozart. For sheer
delight, surely he is the apex or summit, from which
the pyramid descends, down to the rubble of our
new Seventh Symphony! Thankyou for the bok of
curious drawings called, even more curiously,
Calvary. But I liked Faith Mackenzie's sad little
vignette, and Compton, or should I say Monty, writes
well. But I thought the drawings amateurish and
unbelievably nebular; Like looking for pictures
in clouds, which is hardly the style I'd have chosen
for scenes of sadism and death. Perhaps - as I
said of Shostakovitch - one has to have perspective
on major tragedy, on heroism, on any convulsive
upheaval or anarchy of everything that has been,
before one can begin to present it in anything
but newsreels?

The Following Day!

Well, dear, we went. O, dear! Saddening.
She is so _good_! She has dropped all the 'little
cute twicks, BUT has grown an orange sponge down
to the small of her back that was _frizzed!_
Not curled, not coiffed, exactly like crepe
that you unravel. There is a look of intense
pain across the brow and eyes AND she is staying
at the St. Moritz. The play itself - and we
know what we thought of it then - doesn't
merely date, but has died in its tracks and
smells to heaven. Awful to see her slipping
and as Cheryl Crawford, who produced it said,
in her tough way "Maplewood's a push-over for

154 EAST 71ST STREET
NEW YORK

ageing stars half way down the road to oblivion.
Look at that one last week (Luise Rainer) - they
gobbled her up!"

"O!" cried Lenya, hurt to the quick, "you cannot compare Rainer to Bergner."

"Well....no," said Crawford, as if dismissing
an objection too trivial to be considered. "But
there they are. Maplewood this year, next year
some little hick town in the Middle West. O, I guess
to brighten us up!) she has a season or two left."

How about, I suggested, on the verge of tears,
a revival of one of her really great plays on
Broadway - Amphytrion 38 or Strange Interlude?

"Fine," said Cheryl, "for anyone who wants
to drop a few grand down the gutter. She'd be a
success, sure. But who wants to spend that much
on Bergner when they can get someone on the up and
up?"

She said a miracle could save her, but how
right she was to say that the only hope for any
producer nowadays is something almost foolproof -
no-one has a dime to risk especially on someone
bowling down the downgrade. My heart was heavy.
Then the St Moritz! Will it come to bit-parts
and rooming houses? I can't bear it. Anyhow
I wrote to Lizel and asked if I could see her
- we went round afterwards, she was distrait,
but greeted me warmly and asked immediately where
you were, how you are, and said please to send her
love to you. If I see her, I shall send a full
report.

The heat wave continues.

Rene's wife's sister got married and they had
a reception. England was probably not too far
away for you to have been! Caroline is still
rubbing her hands that she was not invited.

Do you think Bud would like an article on
New York in wartime? I imagine not. He has enough

154 EAST 71ST STREET
NEW YORK

Darling Fido,

Your letters have been uniformly wonderful. Especially this last about the rose has donkeys. Persian sounds of all languages perhaps the most difficult. And how exquisitely formal- I suppose take all things Eastern. I am envious, for in my inspired way, I've been taking to Spanish with distaste, for it's quite ruined the little Italian I with such pains acquired, only to have to shed as useless. Spanish, for this hemisphere, is of course, useful, but why, I sometimes wonder, struggle to that end, when use, in terms of today, is in a capacity for ruthlessness? Noel Coward's film sounds hysteria inducing. I yelped at Bud's "Kiss me, Hardy" so loudly that my new black servant came running in in alarm.

Time and me have been tangled - a sort of somnabulism of time and space - our collar day passed and the birthdays, and there I was thinking I don't quite know what, but that days weren't being marked off on the calendar or something. I think much has to do with the unrest and upheaval of being about to be in the army - getting everything straightened out and so on. So far I'm 1A, but that only means I didn't flunk my Wasserman. With Jack I'll get a commission in one of two branches - I had, as you'll remember, a certain military training. What would have been fun and important, I feel, would have been to open Kenwin as a hostel for the refugee children of Middle Europe, of which they take thousands from the decimated and shattered countries to fatten up and recover from shock. I thought you and I could run that very successfully - so ideally suited for some such purpose.

last Saturday.

He had, as I think I wrote, been in the Army
Auxiliary Ambulance Corps, attached to one of the
hospitals here, and that gave him automatically
the corporal rating.

I wonder if a book of poetry by Jose Garcia
Villa has or will come out in England? Called
"Have Come, Am Here", which is, I think, a
lovely name. The poems too, in spite of a
religious obsession in which he jumps on God the who
whole time as the prig who must cringe before the
god of love. "Bring the pigeons watermelons,
Abelard." is, I think, a nice opening line,
and "I think, yes, a leopard in Dufy blue would
Be incomparable. Provided his eyes are green"

Dated? In a way. Bad, banal, over effulgent,
but with a flash of (I'm sorry) genius.

"I was speaking of oranges to a lady
of great goodness when O the lovely
giraffes came. Soon it was all their
splendor about us and my throat
larks
ached with the voice of great XXXX

Somehow that does evoke and reinvoke, or, out
of its context and unsurrounded, like St. Teresa,
perhaps it sounds just silly?

Don't say anything to my family about
pending events - "where ignorance is Miss"...
Why don't you take Matilda to London? I vision
you causing a traffic block at Marble Arch.
was a lovely snapshot, by the way. O! O! O!
Rex caught countless fleas in Central Park. I
had to get a special dry shampoo that deals with
them. There's also a plague of rats in the park.
One sees them scuttle. And Rex, who'd adore
to chase them isn't allowed to, isn't it silly?
There's little news other than what I've already
told. How I sympathise and agree with all you
say about the times. Really, do we deserve all
this? It is of a dreariness and horror beyond
everything - certainly beyond the scope of

154 EAST 71ST STREET
NEW YORK

the emotions.

I thought the Elliott Paul book too foul for
words - a false, grimy and vulgar book; not
a record of Paris but of a coarse and trivial mind.
Yet the Spanish book was good. As I remember.
The Emil Ludwig "Mediterranean" is another bad
book, heavy, half-scholarly - the "Mezzo-signore"
in full rant. And a good idea half gone to waste.
The new Silone is, as usual, superb. Have you
read it? With what enviable economy, as the
reviewers would say, he brings a character to life!

Fido, isn't this too awful - all these
interminable days and days after days, passing,
and you could be here or I there, or somewhere
all of us together. Will it ever happen again?

Elinor confided to me that the Turtle, who
had made a point of visiting her on every New York
trip, received the wedding announcement, she never
heard from him again. Another name crossed off his
book of telephone numbers. How is Pup getting on
with her music? Or does her canteen work replace
her passion for - was it Beethoven? Tonight
Peggy Guggenheim opens her "Art of This Century"
gallery - it has been designed so that the
pictures, which are frameless, seem to be designs
in space, which is done with convex walls on which
no direct light falls - a miracle, I hear, of
presentation. Sounds like the shop windows that
look as if no glass is in them.

Fred goes round like a bereft Fury, frying
in a deep fat of boiling patriotism, which has all
the exaggerations of which he alone is capable.
It fails to improve him. Eileen is here from
Long Island and sends her love and longings -
you know! One of the sweetest pangs of recent
days was a letter starting "Cher Colleague"
reminding me that my subscription to the

["Nov 27 1948 2", "154 EAST 71ST STREET\nNEW YORK", "0 000000000000 0000000000000000 0 0000000000000000 0 000000000000000

dear Fido, it's a very nice one, but what heresy not
to have a Boxer! And thankyou for the one for Jimmie,
I'll send it on. He's in Florida, and I'm afraid
that the whole question is being mismanaged, which at
a time like this, is to be regretted.

Eileen is here today and sends love and hopes
we shall all see each other soon. Shall we? How
wonderful that would be. I miss more than ever,
Kenwin and the dear lake - especially this late autumn
weather, one remembers the downward sweep of flame
from the snowline and the black conifers.

Terrible that Switzerland is not available any
more, by letter or wire. I do hope our Volkart will
be alright. I had a very charming letter from the
Red Cross and Sylvia Beach is, I regret terribly, to
say, interned, and this is her address - if you're
able to reach her: In the left-hand upper corner
should be written 'Interned Civilian' and in the
upper right-hand corner 'Postage Free' followed by
'Franc de Port'. The address should contain Name of
Internee, name of camp and post-office address,
followed by 'via New York, New York'. Your name and
address should be written on the back. Presumably
you'd substitute London for New York. The camp is
Camp Vittell, Vosges France. I feel quite sick about
it, poor Sylvia! Naturally I have already written.
If I can send her clothing or toiletries I shall do
so. One's only, and small enough, consolation is that
we did try as hard as possible - the poor sweet
let it too late.

I shall certainly give Olivia your Christmas
greetings - and ask her to write, the lazy old pet!
Sorry you gave up your camel clippings - or do you
get the products? I told you, didn't I, that I
was turned down by the army? Too blind! I mean me.
But there are other things to do, so I shall not stand
idle. Your Persian fills me with envy and uncontroll-
able hankerings to travel - war is hard on old
globe-trotters like ourselves! Stuck in one place
is not the life for us. Love and blessings, and
Christmas greetings and the bridge across the
enforced separation is a sturdy piece of engineering!

Rover.

New York

30 December 1942

Darling Fido,

1942 - blessed year! - is now almost behind, which does
indicate that tingx things do recede into the past, so here's to
one frail hope of speedy peace, or don't you believe in miracles?
Anyhow, cheri, drink with some of that wilting champagne - for
which my parched tongue hangs out - to days that will again
hold something of what once we knew.

How am I, you ask/ - You can imagine, I imagine, -
the stiff upper lip that has kept that way through infinite stages
of pins and needles, cramp and now rigor mortis. Result: a
dentifrice smile which should earn me money in the ads. Beyond that
one ekes out a life not all sorrow and sin, but perhaps a little
overcrowded with both. To add to the glitter of this festive
season, Ardenia seems to have lost her mind and threatens to
report J. and K. to Mayor La Guardia! I don't think I've enjoyed
anything quite so much for months. J. and K. as you know. have
been poles apart for the longest time - an innocent and unoffending
pair, heaven knows! It's Miss Hull over again. "Dear mr. M, MAY
ai tray to knock you down?" What am I to do? Sais pas, moi. And
God knows I mean sais pas!

Met yesterday a strident virago - sister of Peggy Guggenheim
who'd lived in London and knew fondly all the de Sola family.
Can't remember her name, and God knows I don't want to. Although
she wears satin dresses that don't fit, her manner is all tweed
and hunting crops - a perfect terror!

What COULD my mother mean by an Irish heel? It sounds
most unpatriotic of her, even if I do tend to welcome the
expression. I love the sound of your 'squat columns' - dear Fido,
you should be here, where all the plump and portly have gone in
unrelentingly for pants - usually the second pair that comes
with husband's $27.50 cheviot from Barneys. A dainty sight!

Christmas was a nightmare at Freds. Starting with
cups of whipped shaving cream, baked rubber oysters, white rubber
turkey, sagging souffle summer squash, warm domestic chablis and
chilled Christmas pudding. I consumed half a tin of bicarbonate
the two following tortured days. Now I have to go, don't ask why,
to Boris Goudenov. Russian Relief is not necessarily ours, but
an unimpeachable cause! More, as they say, later.

Well, Goudenov just wasn't. Forgive, - that was terrible!
An Italian version rehashed by Rimsky-Korsakoff, but when one
considers that the original version was by Mussorgsky, little
perhaps is lost. However, Rosenkavalier comes soon which reminds
me that after all these years, I met Lotte Lehmann, who is
enchanting - and she was without coffee and I was with a pound
which I don't use, so sent it to her. Only in wild days like his
could a pound of coffee be a fitting tribute to a prima donna -
like parting with the Rheingold! We both enjoyed it!

There was a lovely Corot show here. You really should
have grabbed that sweet small canvas from Haudley. The Peggy
Guggenheim gallery is an eye-opener, even in times when eyes are
peeled. But it tends too much toward what was - Tanguy, Masson,
Leger, Duchamp, and so on, and their pontifical overlord, the
inexhaustable Andre Breton, the Simon Legree of the Subrealistes.
In spite of that, it has vitality, overdone but interesting
experimental modernism in presentation of pictures - some seem
to be suspended in space, frameless, which is pleasing.

Poor Jimmie languishes in solitary confinement, which is what it
amounts to. Don't we all, in a way? I saw the last book of
Edith Sitwell poems, and how wonderful it is! Other than
war books, and god knows I shall never read another, nothing.
Agna Enters is here again - dancing and another art show. I
must report, no change. Round and round that I now somewhat
frazzled mulberry bush. And since she can use paint, it's a pity
she hasn't a single idea of her own to make it express. All
this, sour and dejected, fills me with fear it is I who am at
fault, or, at best, growing old. But 0 0000000! Too much
that is synthetic is slow poison.

I'm taking Vitamin A for my eyes.

Poignant dreams last night, not of Kenwin but of Riant
Chateau on a rainy afternoon, and going out and cutting full-
blown roses and raindrops up my arms. I woke, stifling. Then
it flashed to deep snow high up the mountains where you walked in
riding pants and I wore a bright knitted scarf Cat had given me.
So I got up and lit a cigarette and turned on lights and took
out books and put them back. And I could hear the trams clanking over
the railway crossing and over the roof-edge was the lake and somewhere
under Cat was typing, so I took Rex for a walk and it was raining.
but those are bad moments. When it all comes back and today
is the ghost.

One celebration only for this New Year - A private toast
to Flat 10 and its dear people and to quiet days together again.

Love to you and Cat and Pup, and a bientot,

New York 16th June 1943

Darling Fido,

I wrote the Pup, with indications as strong as possible
that were not defamatory (were that possible!) and do hope, even
if she goes through some hell, that it may sow that very necessary
seed of doubt. Much better to be hurt now than bumped off later!
How can she have been such an idiot as not to smell a colony of
dead rats the moment he asked for a will in his favor? And we always
thought she was a worldling! Rene and Caroline are informed and,
if necessary, we'll protect as much as possible. Not much can
be done by Pup here at the moment anyhow, but we await developments.
May be a darned good lesson to her. She'll not be likely to
fall for that line again. Nothing like feeling a sucker to sharpen
the wits!! Anyhow, I have fingers crossed and hope for the best.
Jimmie said he'd never heard anything so shockingly cynical as the
way he was approached in Paris for details, which, naturally he was
in no position to give and would not have anyhow. He says that he
was so sure the whole thing was so preposterous as to be unimportant -
that nothing could come of such blatant gold-mining; that whatever
might come to Pup would be more than amply protected from possible
sharks. This is messy but quite true. At first I wondered why
he looked so grim when I showed him Pup's cable, then after a short
battle with discretion and conscience, he said he had to tell me of
this drunken and stupid Paris incident. Apart from all that, I
think Pup should marry a man and have pups of her own. Not that I
relish a picture of my old age surrounded by tots, but a little
jeunesse doré would decorate one's declining years!

You never did say if you'd known Peggy Guggenheim, -once
married to Lawrence Vail. As I wrote Kat, this is like a very
faded copy of the Paris of the twenties. Kay Boyle, Djuna, Klaus
Mann, Breton, Ernst, Tanguy, Duchamp, Leonora Carrington, Vail, and
all the little Vails - a tribe of fantastically beautiful blonds/
- I think I told you I'm taking French lessons with Duchamp -
did you know him? And Mary Reynolds? Delightful people. Peggy G.
has a superb modern gallery of exciting modern paintings.

I may try to get away for a few weeks this summer -
New York heat is so sinister - one feels one might just wither
away or age fifty years in a day. Homesick for mountains. With
snow on them. I found a little shop here full of those brightly
coloured prints of the Matterhorn and fields in bloom, and ran
in and bought a lot. They're so silly, but so nostalgic. I
wonder if Kenwin's falling apart? If the trees and shrubs are
dead or thriving? And one wonders about the viper situation. I
still treasure that letter from the old gentleman who signed
himself, with a flourish "Chasseur des vipeurs"

Rex is still handsome, though white round the whiskers.
I wish I could get him to the country, but without cars country
life here is all but impossible. Sinbad, of course, is in the
country; he's handsome but a cretin.

I still chuckle about your account of the poetry reading.
That letter has made history, and Chas Henri Ford wanted to print
it in View, but I deemed it not the most discreet thing. How is
Edith Sitwell? Chas Henri has mss. of hers for View.

Please keep me informed on the Situation. It would be
so preposterous if they did marry!

I'm glad you liked Helmer. A kindly, if not exceedingly
dynamic person.

O, it's hot!

There's a new book out by the woman who wrote Young Man With
a Horn. Good notices, so shall send it. I'm glad Cat liked Hellas.
It seemed to have her name written on it. I'm writing her right
after this, and perhaps they'll arrive together, but one never
knows. I'm also going to attempt to reply to the letters of our
little one, which make the combined efforts of de Sevigny, de Monthenon
and the Duchesse d'Abrantes as nothing.

O, when if ever, shall we meet again? I'm trying to get more
parcels of food sent over from Canada. It's terribly kind of you
to see the old people so often. They write with greatest appreciation.
No word since from Sylvia Beach. Nor, for that matter, from anyone.
Do you get "View"? I wrote them a little article on Films and the
War, which has had quite a tiny, tiny success here. Anyhow I
ordered a subscription for you, as they do quite a bit of Edith
Sitwell's work.

I shall go to Connecticut for a couple of weeks in August.
Jean Connolly is there and Lawrence Vail and Jimmie and Tania Stern
and Paul Bowles, one of the only two first-rate American composers
and it's on a lake and may be fun. Tanguy is near. Incidentally
Jane Bowles - Paul's wife - has written a book which is making
quite a success among theinitiés called Two Serious Ladies. I will
send hat as well as the Trio.

Have had a long chat with Rene and think he is God's gift
to people like us. He protects anything in his trust with his
life, and these days that's more wonderful than ever. Dolly is
a fortunate girl.

Well, angel, I think we may meet soon. If you see Jimmie
say I said hallo.

Love, barks and blessings,

KENNETH MACPHERSON

165 EAST 62ND STREET
NEW YORK CITY

6th December, 1943

Darling Fido,

I had the ghastly news late last night: first and foremost, I want you to know the extent of my gratitude and my debt to you - all these problems you have on my account, and I unable to deal with them. I am still quite numb and emptied out - you will know about that. Eileen will come into town tomorrow and stay and I shall tell her then.

I don't know how strong Pop will be after this shock, or how strong, indeed, he was before it: could he, do you think, face the trip here? I doubt it, though if he is strong enough, the change might be the best thing in the world for him. Of course, to get permission for travel abroad is almost impossible, but in such a case, perhaps something might be done? In any case, I am trying from this end to get permission to travel: I very much doubt I will be successful.

I had been in bed for some days with a sort of ghastly war germ, and was filled with horrid sulfa drugs: it is chemically and freudianly interesting that I nearly died myself at, I imagine, about the same time. My temperature went overnight up to 105 and when the doctor came he thought it was - as who wouldn't - pneumonia. The thing was, that then and later I sensed it came from outside: when there was a note under the door saying a radiogram had been delivered, I knew without thought that it was what it was. When it came - the little old man who delivered it was most Hollywood - wante to take no tip and delivered it with enormous sense of drama - when it came, it was exactly, almost word for word what I'd forseen. And, having staggered, half fainting from bed for the first time that morning, drrenched with weak sweat as I moved: suddenly the whole sickness went away from me. Today I have run round everywhere. I didn't sleep at all and I'm not tired. Or so fantastically so, I don't know it any more.

Perhaps they may let me come over. It is over, I thought it had been over, or far, far receded for a long time: but no. The extraordinary mother-son attachment is completely chemical. You for years have been good to my family: I can never thank you enough or repay in any way what you have done. I am tired and sick and sad now, Bryher, and rambling on and making no sense. I shall be alright, if it matters. I have sensed this for a long time. Now the thing I most dreaded in life has happened and it is over and the whole floor has vanished, and even without a parachute one knows one is alright.

It has been ghastly for you too: you've been through almost too much already. Pw perhaps one day we shall meet again, quite simply, somewhere, and what is left will be quite, quite the best of us.

Rose.

AIR & MAIL

KENNETH MACPHERSON

155 E 61st St

NEW YORK CITY

7th December

Darling Fido,

it is so awful and horrible to be cut off here and unable
to do anything or to take over my responsibilities....you've done so
much too much already and things haven't been easy for you. What
can I say? At the moment it's hard to say anything. Soon, perhaps,
it will be different; I can hardly wait much longer for us to be
together.

I had two letters from you today....It is ages and ages
since I wrote. I've had not a nervous breakdown - nerves were
stronger than I - but an inner breakdown of some kind: words failed,
life failed: I thought wistfully of Schmideberg and receded each
day a little more into non-existence. In times when nothing is
easy, it is idiotic to say "Things have not been easy" --- personal
crisis or inner dilemma or sickness or sorrow are nothing, really
nothing, against the background of today. Finally, of course, I
became ill. Sulfa pills saved me from death but not the fate that's
worse than. I have the strength of a one-legged spider.

And weeks (it might have been days or hours or no time
at all) passed and nothing, nothing got done. Letters piled on my
desk, invitations, telephone calls, visits, were ignored or
completely forgotten.

Now, when one would expect it to be even worse, everything
seems clear again. With this awful, awful bereavement, I feel I
can breathe.

Today, in your letter, was the Christmas Card. It is
quite beautiful. It reminded me of happy days and times of joy and
discovery. Shall we ever have again some echo of them?

I envy you Philip Gawdy...I've been enjoying John Aubrey's
little scandals. I look forward to The Late Widow Twankey - I
think it will be very, very pleasant reading. I sent you a couple
of books for Christmas. I hope they arrive safely. Flinore sent you
the Schiber book. I met the old dame at tea: it seemed so odd
to see this typically well-to-do old dame in firs and feathers
looking quintessence of smug New York security and to realise she'd
driven all over France with English soldiers hidden in the back of
her car! I was happy to get a word of Uncle Norman. He looms as
a memory of some of the happiest days ever spent: like having
lived in mythology. Please give him my love and say how I miss him.

I'm expecting Eileen this afternoon and have to break
the news. I do not look forward to it! I've only just noticed
your swanky new "B" in Bryher. It's impressive!

I'm trying to send you a beautiful photograph of Rex
taken by a refugee lady who specialised in animal photography. He
looks as glamorous as Dietrich. And here, I think, is Eileen,
- forgive me for my long silence. I believe it will not happen
again.

AIR MAIL

KENNETH MACPHERSON

28th December 1943

Darling Bryher,

I had your letter this morning with the full account of
the funeral, and as usual, your great goodness and angelic kindness
leave one speechless. There aren't words - to fumble for them would
not say anything - I know that nobody living could or would have
done what you have done and are doing, and when the time comes
all that I have in the way of grateful recognition and love and
homage may lead to something I can do in return. To me it is so
wonderful that my mother will be near to your own dear parents -
that makes me very, very happy, for I know she herself would have
wished nothing else. It was hard to be here when it happened -
one feels that the least one had to offer - one's presence simply -
was withheld: but as darling Olivia wrote me, mentioning her
own father (she was here when he died) "no doubt it doesn't matter"

As you say, my mother was a very active and restless person
and to suffer pain and be an invalid would have been so out of
character: I am grateful the end was merciful, and more than
grateful for what you did....Jimmie wrote me a long letter telling
me of the nursing home and the room with the fire. Thankyou.

Do not worry about me or about Eileen. Somehow it was not
a surprise: I think I knew it in 1939. I wish I had been there to
take care of everything and to be near you and to Kat and to the
ones I love, for the loneliness was very sudden and there is
nobody to turn to, though possibly that is just as well: one keeps
going and when people don't understand or care, somehow one is
stronger.... at least I believe so.

I would like Pop to come out if he is well enough to
undertake so hazardous a journey. Much, much better, I'd like to
come over so that I could see all of you again - so long, long a
separation...."hope deferred maketh the heart sick"....
But I shall write and invite him and give what undertakings are
necessary - affidavit or whatever it may be. Incidentally, I
used some saved-up money to buy a Picasso for you. It is a lovely
sea-grey and blue, "La beigeuse", painted in 1933, and reminds
me of you and I know you will love it. I will have a photograph
taken and send it to you. When I saw it, it had your name dancing
across it - I think Kat, had she been there, would have cried
"But it's Fido!" Blue of the sky on the sea and the pure,
deepening greys.

I'm so happy you've seen Jimmie and grateful you were able to
 invite him for his birthday. He wrote long accounts of it all with
such appreciation: you must have prepared a banquet!

Bless you, my dearest Fido for everything. When we meet
(and we shall soon) the whole nightmare and all the ghastliness
will be like a bad and half-forgotten instant.

I liked very much Edith Sitwell's article in the L and L
which just arrived. I have a tiny one in the new View.

AIR MAIL

Cherrywell,
Wolfpits Road,
Bethel, Connecticut.

July 15th 1945

Darling Fido,

Heat, rain, travel and many excursions, new duties, etc,
have conspired to keep me more than ever from my mountain of unanswered
mail. Being a farmer is no joke these times. But please forgive me
because when you get here, at least you will have something approximating
a home. I hope it will be very soon. You'll have received my requests
and formal applications in that respect before now. It would be wonderful
if you could get here before the cold sets in. One says that in the middle
of a heat wave but Summers have such a way of rushing past. I think, too,
the problems - and what problems! would amuse you. Sometimes I would
tear my hair if I didn't hold my sides instead. The farm couple, -
pure Grant Wood types - are so extraordinary, so absolutely daft, I can
only wish I had the memory and vernacular to make a story of them. I think
they quite defy description, but the man is the one. Glen, his name is,
aged fifty seven; and Suzy is his wife, an old maid from Kentucky,
married seven years and still surprised. Every time I arrive he rushes up
with a gloating grin to give a list of catastrophies - roof leaks,
pump's dead, plumbing's shot, Rex is finished, pigs died, chickens
smothered, etc. If I haven't told you this already, as I probably have,
please excuse me if I repeat it in my next,- it goes on in such
a happy way, and he is very pleased. Suzy is long and lanky, with rimless
glasses and migraines. And she loves to talk. In fact she follows you
round the house - the entire house, even the bathroom, and lolls in the
door chatting. The only thing to do is to close the door firmly, asking he
to excuse you for gently displacing her.

They will have to go, of course, though I shall miss the
musical comedy touch they introduce, but the problem is I cannot replace
them. They do feed the chickens and pigs, mow the lawns occasionally,
she does cook and make the beds and polish the metal, but he seems to spend
most of the time in his cottage drinking beer which makes him cross and
Suzy gets downcast and work suffers.

I suppose you've no idea yet when you'll be able to come over?
It seems too good to be true, and I shall certainly not be able quite to
believe in it until you come. And are you bringing H. D.? Please, please
do. We can all have so much fun. It would be recompense for so many many
waiting years.

Rex is extremely well, looks a little elderly, to be sure, but
hasn't changed otherwise at all. There is also a pug which doesn't belong
to me, a sort of dwarf replica of Rex and very funny, with a concave face.
I think you'd like him a great deal. You could have a griffon, of course,
they have some very fine ones around here.

Then I wold like to come after you've been here, to Kenwin
or Switzerland anyway, and help you arrange your affairs there. I had
a long and very delightful letter from Pup; she seemed very happy.

Rene is, as you know, remarrying. I met his fiancée the other
evening. She is very charming - quite beautiful and quite shy. He seems
marvellously happy. They will matry in three weeks and then go off for
a rambling honeymoon, and will come here for a week-end. Fred Stett. is
coming to stay on the 27th. He has just bought a palace in New York,
and fixed it in great style. Elinor, no doubt has written you, about
her farm in Vermont. I had a letter from her a few days ago, a masterpiece
of overstatement. But evidently she is very pleased with it all and that's
the main thing.

KENNETH MACPHERSON

Fido darling,

many thanks for your lovely letters. I hope the sweaters fit and look alright; I sent them before you said not to send anything. But Mrs Sitwell phoned she could take something over and they seemed light and not too bulky. I didn't meet her as she called just before leaving for Canada. Caroline and I Had a cozy, intimate afternoon in the long underwear department for ladies at Bloomingdales. We bought all sorts of cumbersome garments for Sylvia, and a bed jacket and two felt nightgloves and two big blankets and two warm dresses at I think fifteen dollars each. The whole bill was a little over $100 and yet I think the calories will be sufficient for the coldest Paris winter. Yes, I was forgetting, that included a heavy coat, quite handsome and all wool. I hope they fit even vaguely; I know she's thin but I remembered her as rather tall and矮矮 says she isn't. He's back, of course, and a civilian again and happy to be one. He has regaled me with all the news he had of you and good it was to hear; he says he wants to use this machine as soon as I'm through to write you.

I'm so excited the family will be here before too long. Isn't it wonderful? Kat and Pup and you. And I'm very interested to hear all about your plans for the East and what it's all about. Anything to do with the air? There's a very interesting air ace here who has fascinating ideas about running an air-freight line: Joe Carstairs is buying another island to turn into an air-base with hotels etc, and everybody begins to think here of their own plane, including myself: but I don't want a flea. I think a heavier one, even if the cost is higher - one that can be used for long-distance travel. Don't you think so? I do hope your Eastern project won't strand you in Asiatic civil wars or anti-British guerilla slaughters. As to Canada, you may be right. It probably does have a future, which is more than can be expected for the British Empire: but could you bear it? You haven't been there, or have you? I haven't seen much - only Montreal and Toronto, but they reminded me of barely warmed up frozen vegetables: the people lack any sparkle, chic or dash; I imagine Wigan or Halifax might approximate. On the other hand, if you're seeking a sterling area, I don't know why you don't consider the Bahamas and an airplane. Personally, I'd like to help organise an international association, to include war veterans of all nations, to organise against power politics and the next war, or the prolongation of this, which sometimes seems more like an uneasy truce than peace.

Fido, I think I'm feeling better, than you. I'm not terribly, I suppose, tranquil or efficient, but I do feel that the strain of hope deferred is over; there is little but hope now and a gradual recognition that pins and needles are creeping into the numbed areas. I do want to consider some more analysis, to get out of my system that I'd like to sometimes cry for forty days and forty nights. And I shall arrange something for right after the New Year. I think I'd first want to see you now because of all our plans and things, but please don't worry, I am and shall be alright. You mention a gas strike. How dreary. But I suppose they will be the order of the day everywhere. Here nothing but strikes and a colossal crime wave: I'll have to get you a body-guard, Fido, if you're going to be out nights.

Caroline wanted to see me and tell you this, which, of course, you probably know. Anybody coming from England, may bring only ten pounds in cash, but on application to the Exchange Control Board, arrangements can be made for the purchase of a letter of credit or travellers cheques

AIR
MAIL

2

KENNETH MACPHERSON

to an unlimited amount; but be sure that either the letter of credit
or the cheques are negotiable here, and allow plenty of time to clear up
the red tape. You have some cash on hand here, but if you plan to
draw on your sterling account, get permission and, as I say, be sure
your credits are valid here. I don't know if the Board would be
exigeant, but if not, I'd be more than delighted to transfer one thousand
pounds to you for dollars, which would be very helpful for analysis.???

I had no idea Melita(?) Schmideberg was here. I wish it were the
other way round; I'd like to continue with the bear.

How wonderful to think of Kat at Bryn Mawr: She must come and stay
here till she goes off to Philadelphia; she'd probably not get a wink of
sleep for days, I'd be so busy talking.

Olivia is just back and demobilized. Looks marvellous and smothered
from attic to basement with medals, just as one would expect. She seems
to have been just about everywhere in the Pacific area. I'm quite sure
the Wacs out there will have the straightest backs.

Most of what one hears about Europe is sad or heartrending. That's
why I'd like to do something but not, most certainly, with UNRRA.

The Lhasa terrier is heaven - a sort of half-incarnated
chrysantmemum, with the most happy, trusting eyes in the world. Rex,
bless him, is wonderfully well for an elderly dog, but too happy on the
farm to coop up in town; but I see him every week and he's never been
quite so bien plante, with little animals to hunt (one alas was a skunk)
and other dogs to boss and a sweet elderly couple to take good care
of him. He remembered Jimmie and was young again for that day.

My fond love to Kat and Pup. And love and barks to Fido,

AIR
MA

155 E 61st St

Jan 4

1946

Darling Fido,

firstly, many many thanks for the lovely books - Uncle Norman's almanac and charming Prospero's Isle - I loved it and regret terribly not having seen Corfu yet, - Durrell certainly gives a lovely, breathless feel of the place. It was interesting to note he is a friend of Henry Miller, and that Miller mentioned his trip to Greece as guest of Durrell in his Colossus of Maroussi. And, of course, the Edith Sitwell, I love her mourning, elegaic belief in the heart's reality. Again many, many thanks.

Secondly - it's too hard to believe, but it's so wonderful that really, really, you are coming and will fly definitely on the third. It's going to take us a long long time catching up on all we have to say. Thankyou, too, for your last letter. I had sensed there might be someone - how could it be otherwise, so much time has passed, so much has happened, so much is changed. If you're happy, Fido, that's all that matters: life's hideously short at best, and happiness all that matters - it's such a short holiday on earth and one should not have to spend it like a wet Sunday. I don't want, and please, I don't want you to want us meaning little or nothing to each other....well, you'll know how you feel about it when we meet. As you say, we'll talk and readjust slowly and simply and sweetly: I only know I love you dearly and long to see you.

Jimmie opened last night at the Blue Angel and was a great success. I went, of course, although my night club days are over more or less. I'm growing staid and antisocial, and my likes are few and my antipathies many and colossally unyielding. Middle age spread certainly doesn't happen in the domain of enthusiasm: it's dreary not to enjoy gay, trivial things and I'd love nothing more than the ridiculous ardours of youth again and its lovely acrobatic enthusiasms, but no! Gone. The staider realities are a shadow of that rich living.

Fido, do you still loathe music? If so I'll have to make Kat and Pup my scapegoats. Anyway, there are two or three good shows and those we'll go to. I find it almost impossible to believe that this season, now, you and I will again be in New York theatres, movies, art shows, together.

Do have your grippe innoculations. There's a hideous virus grippe going the rounds - I've had it and it's a stinker. Everyone else has or is or is about to, so be a good careful Fido and get immunised. And make Kat and Pup do the same. It has been and still is an epidemic.

O, as to Pop and the Covenant - You've done more than enough and I have accumulation of frozen income there, and can well take care of Pop, but if it helps in any way your income tax situation to continue the covenant and take back the equivalent from me as return of money I owe you....whatever you say.

My love to all. Rexli sends an elderly bark and the crysanthemum pup a busy pink lick, and Rover a happy saiting cocked ear.

Jan 9th 1946

Darling Fido,

I'm pretty sure there will be time to get another
letter to you before you leave, but I want to be sure to
get in this word in good time to say bon voyage and happy
landing. It doesn't seem possible. How do you feel? Excited?
Apprehensive? I can imagine that a long air trip after so long
a sentence at hard labor might well cause a few butterflies
in the tummy, but perhaps it just gives you a good feeling all
the way through. I must say I envy you - it's wonderful to
be among the first passengers to use the Atlantic as casually
as the English Channel.

I'm off to Vermont on the 15th for ten days. Denham
Foutes has taken a house there in the snow and has invited me
to ski!!! Probably I shall have two fractured legs when you
arrive, in the best Montreux tradition. Anyhow, apart from
this, I do think some country air would be good to clear up this
snuffle in the trunk. I hope you had your innoculations. you
mustn't get sick here - everyone else is, was or is about to
be. When and how do Cat and Pup come over? It's so fantastic
I just don't believe it, and probably won't be able to even after
you're all here.

I was much interested in Winifred Graham Wilson's
essay on the Incas. I wish there were more of it. I want very
much to visit Peru one of these days, Chili too. That'll
probably make you wince, but even now I cannot help wondering
if - to return to Central America - there wouldn't be
much, apart from the celestial climate, to interest you in
Mexico - the great eruptions of modernity in a strange,
ancient, decimated land. I hope, anyway, that the affairs of your
East India Trading Co. wont take you to that troubled land with
a British passport. Though to be in this is almost as crucial,
so widespread are the strikes, it's a sort of semi-passive
civil war.

Well, Fido, hurry over and we shall have a banquet
awaiting you - steaks, roast beef, anything you want!

Much love and many barks,

KENNETH MACPHERSON

March 22

Darling Fido,

Thankyou for the letters. I am so terribly sorry about
Kat. It does seem almost too much after all that drawn-out ordeal.
I hope you and she and the entourage all get safely and soon to
Switzerland. I shall think of you there with envy, and I do hope
you will be happy and that the dear Lac will greet you with all its
old charm. Please remember me fondly to the V. and to Jules. And
to Emil, if he's still there. I'm sure the change will be good for
both Kat and you, and that she will so soon feel well and wonderful
because change is part of living, I think, especially after the
ghastly times you've been through, and Switzerland's healing calm
may be the best restorative in the world. Much better than here
at first, don't you think?

I now understand you're quite determined to shed the
old hound, I do admit he was never much of an asset and I can't find
a word of blame although the last remnants of tail seem now to have
been lopped off. Philip is returning from California on Monday and
then Rene and he and I have to meet and talk the thing over. I shall
be sorry always, Fido, terribly sorry and lonely - I suppose that
sounds rather unconvincing but I'm not readjusted yet to the reality
that all the war years actually were not just marking time and holding
onto something. It seems so much too late to start a new life, I
know I have no heart for anything - Philip said a new wife and children
and I could have laughed or cried or screamed. It all seems a test
of one's ability not ever to be allowed to rise to the surface, and I
think, if it's alright with you, when it's all over, I'll liquidate
everything and go somewhere quite mad and experience a side of life
I've never known. I don't mean I'll jeopardise any material arrangements
on the contrary, I would like them arranged in such a way that I may
be able to pay you back so much that you must feel has been rather
squandered to no purpose.

Meanwhile, Perdita is "having wonderful time" in New York,
and terribly happy to be here. I understand she still eats three eggs
for breakfast every morning, and I've been taking her to some shows
and things and am giving a big birthday party for her. Everyone
likes her so much, as they should, and really, what a darling she is!

I went to the flower show suddenly today, not having
thought about it beforehand, but there it was suddenly and in I went.
It was so beautiful with such unbelievably subtle flower gardens with
flowering trees and conifers, it has quite the nicest thing that has
happened since the war started.

I am writing Kat separately, but just the same, please give
her my love, and the same to you,

AIR MAIL

Cherrywell.

Nov 6th.

Dearest Fido,

very glad to have your letters and very sorry not to
have written sooner. It has taken the best part of four weeks
to get out of my former apartment into a thing the size of a
postage stamp, which I am, nevertheless, lucky to find. I had
literally to claw my way in through cartons, barrels and crates
just like a rodent; and, of course, the day I had to move was
the day the painters finally arrived and chaos, confusion and
horror was unspeakable: one had to pick ones way from bed to
bathroom to kitchen by literally lifting great big heavy things
from one place to another, and back again. At last some semblance
of order, but never again. It will make an adequate pied-a-terre
and will be easily rentable when I go to Europe. The address
is (note this) 352 East 55th Street. I sold a few pieces of
furniture and the rest went into storage. The antiques can
be sent to Europe later, if I do find a cassetta somewhere in
Italy. I have noted your new address and wonder how your
trip to London is turning out. Very well, I hope. I trust
you find enough to eat. Pop is returning to London on the
14th, sailing on the maiden trip of the America. I think
he has had enough of the western hemisphere at any rate for
the present. So, for that matter, have I. If Europe does
prove a bitter disappointment, I shall probably live most of
the year out of New York, probably Mexico, which as you know
I found very much to my liking and incredibly invigorating:
and just visit Europe once in a while and New York for about
three months every winter. I shall not go to Europe this year
as the closing of the deal - that is the final sale of the
house in New York - is postponed till December, and if you
come over in January, I don't want to miss you. I thought I'd
go in the latter part of February and go straight to Naples on
the Vulcania and see Uncle N. in Capri - then I could come up
via Switzerland, collect whatever belongings are there.

I am so very happy that Kat is really better at last. I
had a lovely letter from her about three weeks ago, and wrote
one back. I do hope now that she will be happy and relaxed.
If I don't manage to sell this place before she comes over
which I suppose wouldn't be till next year, she could come here
and have it for her own for as long as it pleased her. It is
so lovely now - bright, crisp and absolutely undisturbed and
private. Of course, I hope to sell, but Rene says I should
stick to my price and not hurry. Poor Marcel! Will he be able
to use the arm in time? What ever happened to Robert, or has he
quite faded from view? I think you should certainly marry Fifi
and have a family of black-faced baby boxers. I think you'd
be amused, too, at my ridiculous animated crysanthemum - its
soething between a monkey and a baby panda. You will hate
New York. It is quite taken over by perfect monsters - sort
of rich black marketeers: ham-packed with them, rich, loud,
common and madly arrogant - a kind of Hogarthian nightmare.
And more and more keep coming. A vulgarity that beggars desc-
ription. I'm sure a month will be just as much if not more
than you can bear. I do agree, Fido, much better leave the
car in Europe. I'm sure I'd like it there much better!

I've been working on a book here and very excited about it. I think I am biting off more than I can chew but I'm going to try just the same. I shall go back to New York for the week-end and stay till Pop sails, then return for another ten days. But the New York address is always better.

I don't think I have any other news. Pup is very well and seems to be enjoying herself. She has been slimming and looks quite beautiful and is very pleased with herself. I haven't seen much of her this past couple of weeks, - moving and then here, and no telephone (there's a waiting list a mile long, and first they said next spring, then Hans Richter, with whom I'm co-producing an avant-garde film, said I must say it is the office of the company, so I may get a business phone, which is a little more expensive but well worth it. The film is done now except for sound, and Stowkowski saw the rushes and is very enthusiastic and is going to conduct the entire score (which is done by Milhaud, Honneger, Duke Ellington, Paul Bowles, etc) and this is wonderful, because Stowkowski has such enormous influence and is in himself good publicity. Life magazine is going to give it a four-page spread in colour, and that, too, is worth 50,000 worth of publicity. The film has sequences by Man Ray, Leger, Duchamps, Ernst, Calder and Richter, who is such a dear - you may remember he showed Borderline in Berlin. It is all in color, and very, very beautiful and now it is cut, very exciting.

Do come over in January, because if I go over in Feb. and like it, I may want to stay on and on.

Much love, and please remember me to Elsie V. many greetings, and, of course, my love to Kat and I am so very happy she is to be with you again.

155 East 61st. St.
New York, N. Y.

12th August 1946

Dearest Fido,

How is the great Alpinist? As I haven't heard from you,
I trust you aren't marooned on the Matterhorn. This dreadful, hot
Summer is in the fullest strength of its vindictiveness - one wilts
and melts - a wretched existence!

And a perfectly fiendish thing has happened. The WPR won't
let me rebuild. That is a horrid Government department which has
clamped on a most drearily unfair law that permission for reconstruction
work can be unreasonably given only in the case of houses for veterans
or apartments for veterans which cost no more rent than eighty dollars
a month. I have explored every possibility from cajolery and bribery
to shady-legitimate loopholes - Ieven went to the new Italian Embassy
which is opposite, and suggested they might like apartments for their
personnel - but nothing could be done. So I am reselling the beautiful
thing, with sighs and curses. And - after all that - I'm just where
I was - homeless! There'll be no trouble selling - it is quite one
of the most desirable houses in New York, and people are out-ving
with great bankrolls in their hot hands to get anything that even
remotely resembles a roof over their heads. The bitter thing is,
that I had already a waiting list of veterans of a more solvent nature
willing and able to pay two hundred a month. I think one of my
advisers might have known about this regulation - not Rene, he doesn't
deal in real estate, but it seems to me SOMEBODY might have warned me.
Anyhow, I can put the money back intact into my trust with perhaps a
few extra thousand added.

In the meantime, Uncle Norman keeps writing me from Italy. I
don't suppose I can or should this year, but I would love to jump on
an old italian boat and meet him in Naples and stay in Capri for a month
or two. Would this - if I did it - upset you in any way? I don't
want to, and will not do that. If I went direct to Italy, they couldn't
say we were getting together or anything, could they. But, naturally,
I want no hitch that may upset any of your plans and can wait till the
whole thing is over if it is necessary. In time, I might even get a
tiny casetta there - it depends - it may all seem too much of the
past; but I shall have the money from the Connecticut place and can
sell, too, my little collection of paintings - they've all gone up
in value. I shall hang on here - I believe I can't be evicted
until six months after the lease expires at the end of September -
and try to find a place for a permanent pied-a-terre. And then, as
it seems to me now, if I had a tiny white stucco pigsty in Italy
covered with a wisteria vine, that would make a very perfect balance.

Please remember me to Elsie. My love to Kenwin, And much
love to the sort of S. Bernard Fido,

July 10th.

Very dear Bryher,

thankyou very much for your nice letter dated July 5th.

Your mountain climbing sounds most strenuous to a big dog panting
in the throes of New York Summer swelter: but, you did say you felt
Kenwin air stuffy after the other: here, alas, it is like being in
solution, and I believe if one more drop of damp were added to the
air we'd have to grow fins. The new heavy climbing boots sound
wonderful. I think you are all very brave. I can't imagine Robert
as a sort of Piz Palu hero, nor Elsie as the frozen beauty of the
glacier. But it sounds exciting and romantic. And talking of the
romantic, I turned up an old article in the National Geographic
called Florence Revisited, with masses of incredible photographs,
and that gave the interior a strange twist: here excitement is
at a premium, but only, I suppose, the Metropolitan or Frick shimmer
those messages from romantic, immemorial things. And although I'm
sure people climb mountains here, they don't have names like
Riffelhorn and Mettrlhorn. How ghastly that Karma, which should be
a sort of architectural museum, should be cut up into apartments. Is
it true that little villas have been built on the hill opposite
Kenwin with the stream we used to walk beside? Is Niehans still
there? And the girls' school (St George's?) and the Asile?

I do hope you don't have to give up Kenwin - but
if you cant have a Robert to mop floors and a Sophie to cook and
get pregnant, I can see that it might be a little irksome. It
must, I suddenly felt, writing this, be extraordinary to revisit
(not like Brideshead) something dear and familiar. I'm not going
to try till I have the house on a firm paying basis, by which time
I hope Italy won't hate us too much over Trieste and other spots
and I'd love to run back and see Uncle N. and perhaps stop at
Vevey and come to see you if you were there. But, as I say, I
have decided that this might as well be headquarters from now on,
and I don't want to jump back, as so many are doing, expecting to
find or regather- up old threads.

I had yesterday a lovely letter from Hilda. She
said she was very happy in a lovely eighteenth century house and
that every possible kind of flower grew all round it, and that she
was continuing her Freud memoirs. I'm sorry the governments have
been so ungenerous about your allowance. I think it will be easier
when the U.S. loan to England goes through and currency unfreezes.

Thankyou, Fido, for offering me some of the Kenwin
furniture, but I think it would be too big really for an apartment.
Some day (I could pick them up at any remote future date) I'd
like to have the seven crystal Chinese gods of good fortune that were
in my bedroom: and, of course, if you are serious about the car,
I'd adore to have it: but only on the one condition that you are
one hundred per cent sure you will have no possible use for it, and
that you allow me to pay all and any expenses of shipment. My old
wreck has really fallen apart and is more or less screwed together
with hairpins: it was in one of the hurricanes here and got hit
by a tree in the middle and was pinned for three days in pouring
rain, so it has never been quite the same since.

KENNETH MACPHERSON

NEW YORK CITY

June 13th 1946

Dear Fido,

Rene, Caroline and I met on the strength of Philip's memorandum, brought over by Rita Windsor. I suppose you know all about that, and the desired changes have been made and you will hear or have heard about them.

The only thing that really disturbed me was that you got an impression that I was trying to hold up anything. Who in the world gave birth to that idea? I did say at the start that I hoped you didn't mean it, and I did, admittedly, feel that if we saw each other first and talked together, that misunderstandings at least would be avoided- such as this one. But as soon as I was sure you really meant it - and, remember, you did say in a couple of letters that a divorce would not be necessary - I agreed to anything and everything - it was a long time ago, and I've been waiting simply for instructions in procedure, expecting to be called to sign on any dotted line that was stuck in front of me. I have now done that. I believe you have never found me difficult in matters of arrangement - could there be any reason to suppose that I should start now? I firmly wish and want - seeing that separation is to be - that it should be if possible the day before yesterday rather than tomorrow. And that, not without every possible warm and friendly feeling.

I'm sorry you disapprove of the house. Rene, stung a little, said he would write about it in full, and I do believe when you understand the situation, that you'll see it as a good idea. I think that what you're afraid of is that I've just been throwing money away. - perhaps generally and in every way, or that I've been living an immoral life with my neighbour, or something of the kind. Whatever it is, I am sorry, and can only deplore, as dont we all, the malignant growth of rumor. It is the right of everybody, isn't it, to improve or try to improve their position? Such spending as I have done has been at least eighty per cent in the nature of investment. I feel sick to think that you may have nurtured the fancy that I follow in marriage the American plan of polite blackmail, - I want you most specially not to believe that and only to wish me well in my plans as I do you.

AIR MAIL

May 17th 1946

Dearest Fido,

It was good to get your letter and to know you're
getting at last a chance to rest in the country. I can imagine
the place is something of a jungle, I suppose the conker-crowned
terrace is a lost islet at the bottom of a green tube. Sorry the
flowering bushes died, I'm sure everything missed the loving hand
of Emile. But it must be fun to wander again over the land you
did so much to and for - I imagine the weeds have grown even
beyond your control! Please remember me to Elsie and to anyone
else that worked there that you may see.

I seem steeped in real-estate business here. I'm selling
the farm and buying a house in town which I plan to cut up into
apartments and make some money on. I have to leave this place
at the end of September - they're going to rebuild with tiny
apartments, and rents are so astronomically high I decided a house
in which I had an apartment and rented the rest - which will, of course
be divided into separate apartments, would enable me not only to live
rent-free, but make quite a bit on the side. The address will be
16 East 84th. Street - almost in the Metropolitan Museum, which is
fun, but don't send any mail there until the end of September. I
can get a remodelling permit by renting to returned veterans. As
almost everybody is a returned veteran that is simple. I am sure
that one cannot lose these days on real estate - for at least four
more years, and I may, when I have fixed the place, resell at a
profit, keeping a proviso that I have my own place rent-free for life.

Perdita is having a grand time here - loves everything,
appears much more relaxed than at first: she is a darling and I'm
happy she's here; everyone likes her so much. Her passions are
Cocacola and fruit - oranges, I suppose, above all else.

I think she'll be disappointed not to have the farm to
go to for the Summer, and so am I, but I suppose I shall have to
spend a great deal of time in town looking after the work that has
to be done on the town house. It'll be hot and miserably uncomfortable
but I shall be content enough. We may be able to go for a spell to
the coast at Newport where friends have a house and that will be
refreshing.

I wonder if you've extended your living-space now that
warmer weather is here, of if you still have to camp out. I hope
not too severely.

I suppose Perdita will have told you that poor dear Rexli
died. He had been perfectly well, but I suppose the old heart was
pretty tired. He was found in the orchard by the farmer: we think
he had been running to bark at a passing car and just fell over. Once
or twice before that had happened but, of course, he came to: this
time he didn't. I try to say "well, of course, he was an old dog",
but my heart aches for him: without him Cherrywell seems empty, and
so I shan't mind parting with it, quite so much. I thought you'd
like to have these pictures of him: and Fido, he made me very happy
for many years, and thankyou.

I'm toying with the idea - once the new house starts to
pay off, - of restarting Close Up. It was Cat who always said
"Life advances in a spiral, and this might be just that cycle - so
much is being started and for me it would be something starting again
- too much, forgive me for feeling, has ended, and I think something
starting would provide good occupational therapy.

Have a lovely, happy time in your lake district - in a
year or two I'll comm and see you, if I may and it'll be wonderful

Capri, 27th December 1947

Fido, my angel,

god knows where this will reach you - I am
sending it to Rene. Your description of your wanderings
delighted me - and I do agree profoundly and with
emphasis, that those islands are not by any means for
residential purposes. Personally, war or no war, I have
found the place to stay in. My only fear - a future
freezing of currency. But why cloud one's heavenly days
with bogies? I am glad you are hurrying back to Europe,
because I have again postponed my trip to New York.
I am a little worried about Norman - nothing serious,
but my instinct is strongly not to go at this time....
my wish too, of course, and I've looked very closely
to find out if it is merely the unconscious disguising
a selfishness about staying here. I had my ticket for the
Saturnia, sailing December 28. When I got back from Napoli,
Norman was not at the Piazza as always to meet me, and when
I ran up to the villa he was sitting here, and apologised
saying he had not felt well. It was what I suppose used to be
called a little spell....nothing really and he was soon
himself again. But it frightened me terribly, and I
immediately cancelled the sailing. What I shall do is
get an extension of my Reentry permit and go over in
July - I know it will be hot in the States but as those
weeks of summer are horrible here I shall not mind going
at all. Please don't mention this news of Norman to
a soul. You know how it might creep back to him and he'd
be furious as well as alarmed.

Christmas here was pretty riotous with two big
parties quite in the old manner. Compton Mackenzie should
have been here to describe them!

A week of preternaturally beautiful weather. You
must come early in the Spring and stay a long time.

A cable from Perdita, a letter from Kat, who
seems quite pleased with life in Lausanne.

I do wonder where you are and what you are doing?
I don't envy you in New York by any means. All that old
galere! And the weather! And soon you'll be back - that is
the important thing. This may not reach you till Pully -
where other mail will await you, so I shall reserve
what slight news there is (and will be) for later letters.

Buon viaggio - (I hope it will be/was) and
much love come sempre,

Capri, 11th December 47

Fido darling,

The damned days have been speeding past and not
carrying me with them; how I hate to lose time! I have
been having one of my periodical bouts of grippe -
refusing to recognise that winter is humid...Now the
house is rather like a baker's oven, and I am up and
about in a spectral kind of way.

Your letters have been so wonderful - I am
most relieved that all Jamaica was not the Turkish bath
you described in your first letters. I have always heard
that Montego Bay is quite superb. How long will you
stay on the island?

Capri has during my cold, had quite a return
to the roaring twenties. A young American writer staying
at the Villa Smeralda enraged that his new gigolo had
been adopted by someone else, took a box of sleeping
pills and set fire to his bed. We were called by the
butler in the middle of lunch and found him charred
and unconscious with two mattresses smouldering in a
lake of black water which the servants had poured over
everything, and a wild winter gale howling through the
enormous room. Stomarch pumps a full litre of
disintoxic (he had swallowed a bottle of brandy)
pumped into his veins, some bandages, and the life
was saved. Then came a fellow from the Embassy in
Rome, fleeing forever his wife. Who followed on the next
boat, having wild hysterics all over the piazza and
everywhere else she could insinuate herself, including
this house, and my grippe really coming on. I was not
very patient. That same evening the good lady who
sold me this house came for cocktails and seemed to go
beserk. I swear that I was unable to keep up with the
rate at which she kept gulping down her martinis, and
soon, clutching her big, droopy bosom, she was racked
with hiccups, tears, and kept asking everyone "And how
did you get on Capri?" as though it were some
impregnable and secret lair. The Cecil Greys come
wide eyed, a little distraint and exalted, to tell us the
villa is haunted. Well, we know something about that,
because Emilio and I, and Larry Pearson, a delightful,
gay creature, now departed, crept down there two nights
at midnight and set up a cacaphony of eerie howls.
The next day in the Piazza over aperitifs, Cecil asked
Norman if there were any strange birds nesting on the
Faraglioni. And that evening, Margery said "Cecil,
it is eleven. We must go home." Then, turning to me,
"Cecil and I have to be home now every night by eleven."
Larry and Emilio dropped their eyes and I strained at
solemnity like a boat at its anchor. "Why?" I said.
"Aha!" said Margery, sweeping Cecil with a voluptuous
look. "Margery, don't be so mysterious." "Come, Cecil."
And out they drifted. What a crazy, delicious rock this
is! We shall have to stir up some excitements for you
in the Spring!

Now, I must to lunch, whata group! Prince
Esterhazy, a gollywog, and two Hungarians counts that both
live with him fully and fulsomely, a quite frightening
Baroness Hahn, all knitted goods, and an old American
millionairess called Mrs Windham.
Pity me! Love

Villa Ulyssella

26th Nov. 1947

Darling Fido,

Alas, poor Rover slept with his tail against a damp wall... very stupid of him, but he now recovers. It is so unfortunate - my favourite cactus garden has to be sacrificed to my dryness! It is rather like the Kenwin Library - too much earth against a wall, and we have to sink a concrete below the room level so that mushrooms don't goow behind the furniture. It is the damp season and everything is very, very humid. So I - and you, you beast may remember, - got stuck one morning just as once I did in a bath-tub in Riant Chateau, and you, instead of sympathising, collapsed with tears of joy, not pity, coursing down your cheeks - and I couldn't get out of bed and I had a fever and aches and pains and much, much self-pity. I have now got the room BAKED so all is well, and it was, of course, my ignorance of the fact that in November Capri is damp indeed. Now I know it, we have the central heating on incessantly. So poor Rover lay in bed miserably for some days but is now up and even about again.

And how are the High Winds in Jamaica? I got with relief and happiness your cable. Now I await that first letter which will tell me your first impressions. I picture you enjoying the days, while the sun shines, and looking more than meek with downcast eyes, among delectable specimens of the British Colonies. Perhaps it isn't like that at all? I do wonder what you do, and if you are - as I hope you are - enjoying it very much in all sorts of ways.

I have no news except that I have been bedridden, and that is not very stimulating. I have a note (enclosed) from Norman, but I didn't write on the 21st. because that was the day I sickened, if that is quite the word.

Switzerland was fun and much more. I should hardly have expected to think of the restaurant of the de la Paix with special affection, but I do. Places are so largely what happens in them. If miraculous love surged up in a shark-proof swimming pool, I suppose Jamaica for you would be the perfect image of beauty. I hope it is anyhow..

Kat sent me the second half of her manuscript. I must read it quickly now that I feel so much better; she must not feel after so gracious a gesture that I do not appreciate it. I did send her a note thanking her, didn't say I was sick, because - well you know - she might have worried.

I do trust the Western Hemisphere will give you all you expected of it and more. I have just had a telephone message from the lawyer in Napoli that the money for the villa has arrived. Now we can close the deal. Fido, it is wonderful. And you are - well, you are Fido! There is no greater praise; and I shall always think when I see someone do something beautiful "Fido would have approved of that." I only hope that someday Fido will approve of -

Villa Ulivella,

20th Ottobre 1947

Darling Fido,

off tomorrow by car, wending northwards
Please, please, a room at the de la Paix on
the 28th. Advise time of arrival later.
Capri so lovely now, it is a wrench to leave.
Still bathing, but nights chill. The group -
Norman (of course), opposite, his son, Robin,
then Rover, then Emilio. Quite hidden is
Margery Grey and half hidden, Cecil. This was
taken at the festa of the Virgin at the
Grande Marina. DO try to be in or near
Lausanne - I do so want to see you.

Many barks and much love,

They are very superior people, good-looking, even
rather distinguished. They want mainly a room and food:
money is not so important. Excellent references, and, I'm
sure, very adaptable and willing. They both speak several
languages - German, French, English and Italian. He would
be a good butler and houseman, and she a sort of cook-general.
Probably with the Udine animal you're alright, but I thought
of you at once when I heard these two were free, because
they are the real thing and thoroughly trained.

I think that in the beginning of December he gets a
job in an hotel at Basel, which would probably suit you: or
he would stay if you prefer. As I say, I haven't the faintest
idea whether they'd be any use to you or not, but remembering
your means about servant shortage, the idea popped into
my head that you might just possible want to snap them up.

I understand that all René's marital storms are
becalmed in the shadow of the coming event: a good thing
I suppose, though it seems a little late to start being
a daddy.

I am still dazed by your endless gestures of fantastic
kindness. What a wonderful Fido! I am still writing - not
my full quota since I started the map. But that is almost
done and I can catch up. It may be absolute rubbish, but that
manuscript is going to be ready before Christmas.

How was London? Need I ask? The poor benighted
people - what is it but a vast concentration camp? Now
*nobody* will be able to leave. Thirty-five pounds, indeed!
A week-end in Paris. Anyhow, Best greetings and a happy
return to your own pays.

And much love and many gleeful growls from
a large dog with a lovely brand-new bone!

Rover

When the zest for life disappears, ambition and incentive are the first virtues jettisoned. Now, with this new wonderful zest, that is almost like a second youth that awful paralysis is replaced by vitality - the dead battery is recharged, and the thought of action and endeavour no longer a nightmare. Convalescence is always a sweet process.

I shall certainly wander north. I still await my permits. They certainly will take their time!

All the roses that cover my lower story are lying on the ground and the house has a new coat of gleaming white. Tomorrow they will be pegged back again. Edwin Cerio a garden expert, has promised to advise me what to plant and where to, plant it. He has shown me some of his magic gardens here and I am fired with ambition! Not that this isn't lovely, the two terraces are perfect, but touches here and there - who knows better than you what I mean?

I have Norman's old cook Maria who comes in the mornings and cooks breakfast, cleans, washes and prepares lunch (beautifully) and her husband, Michael, the gardener who comes at seven and works till two, for the wildly expensive sum of Lire 5,000 a month, or roughly eight dollars, of which Norman pays half. The rest of the cleaning and the evening meal are done by Nella, Emilio's wife, who does not get paid. Emilio does just about everything, you cannot believe how much. I try and try to restrain him, but if he wants to help the masons he helps them: lifts stones, mixes cement. "We must not let them waste time." Bawls them out about estimates, nags and bullies them, and the work goes like magic. In between times, he keeps the accounts, a diary, does the shopping and spoils me terribly. I am treated like a pregnant woman - "The signore must not be bothered." Chairs are set for me, bowls of flowers: no sooner does a wish cross my mind than he has divined it. A fantastic creature! I am very, very lucky. Good heavens, I am lucky!

I'm so glad the Udine gazelle is satisfactory. And I'm very sorry that another of the Kenwin menagerie is ailing. You will have to get a Lhasa Apso - I shall bring back mine this next trip and if you like, will bring you a pair. I think they should go in pairs, - they play so idiotically and wonderfully together.

As to a fishing boat, you shall have that too. I know just where to get one, and my good friend Peppino, a marinaio of long experience, will advise you in all matters.

Much love, dear Fido (that shall be the name of the boat) and the rest rather speechless!

I hope, too, that soon I shall get rid of Cherrywell - I agreed
with René to let it go below what I was asking...after all, I
shall never need it again, and as long as I cover expenses, that
is alright. I am very happy that business with Audley is working
out well - how very lucky! It's a pity about Norman, but as he
will be living free from very soon on, it may not be so important-
he doesn't pay much rent where he is, but it will make up the
difference. Cara bambina! Poor Fifi! What a snub for such a
fierce, proud chien de race! How much better for my animated
ostrich-feathers, I just heard my New York Apartment
has been robbed. I don't think they got anything very important
of mine, but poor Richard Barrett who has rented it from me, had
everything taken. Damage to locks....I hope they haven't ruined
my pretty furniture. I'm awaiting a fuller report.

Alas, Ettore's second shirt must have been swiped. Never turned
up. As a matter of fact, regrettable as it is, and kind of you as
it was (so habitually!) one can find something here.

O, Fido, I've figured that if I live here six months a year
I shall have paid for the villa in savings in three and a half
years. Life is so beautifully cheap here. And that awful Manhattan
eats up everything. How maladjusted!

Now I must be off..... carpenters. Bookshelves! You are
a wonderful little dog, and do advise me about everything- and do
try to come here in September.

Much much love and many barks,

Villa Cettosa Capri

16 June 1947

Darling Fido,

It was good to have your two delightful letters. I am dashing this off in haste because of the Luzern concerts. I should like best, I think the 23, 24 and 25th August - seems to be the best - that is, to repeat clearly, the 23 and 24. The 25th. I see is a repetition of the 24th.

What a grim time you've had, poor Fido. I do hope unruffled calm has descended again and that you are able to enjoy your climate in peace. After all, that's why you're there, and it does seem harsh to have it invaded by such Bedlam.

Pup went off to Rome, then came back and has now gone to Ischia with Colby. I agree with what you say of her. A very odd girl - so awfully nice really, but a problem. I hardly know what to say to her. I don't think it's so much the cosmetic side but a curious blockage somewhere - even more, as if part of the motor needed repair. She seems happy and debonnaire enough, and was far from worried by the Greys who left about ten days ago. I think she rather liked the old boy. But just what she is doing; to what or to whom she wants to attach herself: why she is here or anywhere, for that matter, is a mystery, for she preserves her odd isolation most cautiously...I suppose she likes vaguely to have old familiar faces somewhere in the background...I just don't know. Norman can't bear Colby. "He's hanging onto you like a tic, my dear!" so he's pleased to be rid of him for a few days. I'm sending them down to Calabria in the car when they get back, probably with some chum of one or the other of them... anything to be rid of that damned tic! I shall be so glad when he finally does redump himself in his own land. O, by the way, yes, yes, most, most certainly. A return ticket by all means. For January. Either to France or Italy. But probably better France, unless the Italian line improves. Which is doubtful. January. No later. I hate the thought of returning, and will cut it as short as possible. Back to Europe in January, PLEASE!

The Villina question sidles toward a solution but sempre, sempre dei complicazioni! Of course, the solution would be Prussic acid for the old German bitch who sits there and blackmails "like bloody Jesus Christ, my dear!" But on top of it there are the pros and cons of ownership, of permis, of the old red tapeworm. Tommorrow to Napoli to see the big boss-man of the caribiniere - an old friend of Norman - in order to get a permis-de-sejour. V. important, because there are new laws which prohibit an overstay of the original soggiorno; and - mercifully - several dreary foreigners will soon have to leave, willy-crying-nilly! I do not want to be one of that nail-gnawing fraternity. David Jeffreys will help too - he is a darling and has handfuls of sangs to pull.

A becalmed weather of blue and gold, day after day - warm and warming. Overdone note for today: A golden oriole singing like mad in a tree bending with lemons under my terrace. Just why it isn't all collossal kitsch I cannot explain. The half-heard Sapphic lyre no doubt ennobles it, or perhaps it is just this opulent and squandered richness that has been vulgarised by lesser human perception, which is moved by a geranium petal chasing a yellow butterfly, but immediately thinks two should be kissing against this counterpoint. And why not? Now I'm going to swim.

Rene advises me not to sell for less than the asking price, but I
begin to wonder if the peak is not passing: especially as I had, and am
sure still have, an offer of only $5,000 less. What do you think? I'd
still be making money on it, as well as having enjoyed it for a couple
of years; and if the market falls, I might not get even what I'm now
being offered. Let me know your advice.

Emilio has at last arrived, having worked like a slave to rescue
some of Norman's books, bibelots, etc, and nearly being arrested for his
pains! Now I'm going to send him to Napoli to rescue the car, which,
David Jeffreys reports is safe; but I would like it placed in the
consulate garage, where I wont have to pay $500 a minute to store it.
And it needs a grease and oil job, and a thorough overhaul. I must
pay you the balance on that when I come back. The payment will not be so
difficult then, as there will be no major operations necessary. Ironically,
not once did we use the new luggage rack for which you so kindly paid...
dear Fido, I still see you with my overcoat over your arm, smiling and
waving that rainy morning we drove away. What a happy year this is being!
Nothing but joy for me! I wish you were having as much. Now, for heaven's
sake, is the time: enough of all those woes: Gentle Jesus himself had
less!

David arrives this evening with HIS burden...mother and father!
Father a malade imaginaire, who arrived in Napoli and began bleeding
from his derriere simply because he was jealous that David was just
rising wanly from his long and painful "typho".

Glorious weather - colours triple-dyed, sun blazing, and a lovely
cool breeze. White oleanders now everywhere, blazing bougainvillea and
purple morning glory. Honeysuckle and white roses, geraniums and the
sparser second crop of wisteria, branches almost breaking with lemons
and oranges and cherry-picking parties in the vineyards washed down
with local wine. Very Theocritean! Lilies under the grapes, and stock,
and the overdone poppies that remind one of all cheap Italian paintings
one has ever seen, circa 1890. Genista, campanula fragilis- well, just
about everything! And I found in the Grotta dell'Arco some Neolithic
pottery fragments. It all makes me purr.

.....Now, please don't blame me for failing, through this haze of
classic bonheur, to grasp the horrors of what you've had to suffer. I do
hope both of them will soon be able to readjust. What a pity to go mad
in an ugly way. Some of them have such fun - there's an old man here
who dances the tarantella and everybody loves him. I think, however, his
dementia must have a certain direction, for he always seems to be seized
in the proximity of a glass of wine! If you HAVE to go, that's the way
to do it!

Now I'm off! Got to meet the boat.

Much love and do greet Bud from me.

Rover.

Pensione Villa Certosa
Isola di Capri

5th June, 1947

Darling Fido,

I was so very sorry to hear about poor Taro - a very, very nice old dog with sweet manners and a very warm personality. I do hope you are not all too much upset - I imagine you, at any rate, are philosophically prepared for such things, but I wonder about Elsie, whose passion for dogs has become so very much part of her sublimation of love and marriage. I do hope she doesn't mourn too much. When Rex went he was stuck in the ground somewhere by the farmer there - I never asked him where; I don't approve of cemeteries or of remains: they don't reinvoke the living thing, I feel they tend to darken the memories of life and vitality with all their gloomy Christian vulgarity. What a week it must have been! I'm not at all surprised that Grace is in a loony-bin with such a mother. She was an impossible bore and problem-child long long ago, and I always hoped she might turn into a slightly repulsive delinquent, but this is more like her, no doubt. But poor Fido! Really, HOW does it happen you are the focus for so much daemoniac pounding? Better pack up a bag and come here! I hope this doesn't sound quite heartless - but the Irwins were always to me the epitome of english suburbia, than which, I think, there is no more vicious stratum in international society; morally, spiritually, emotionally and physically. For you, I try to tell myself, it was different - they were part of your upbringing. And yet I cannot help feeling only your fantastic loyalty and integrity allowed you to go on seeing them. Don't let yourself be involved more than is quite necessary, because you are too kind and compassionate, and being like that, apt to be eaten alive by the unworthy. These words, which do sound heartless, I know, come flying off the keys, so I suppose I do mean them, though I'm a little surprised myself.

The palio, Fido, is on August 5th. Will you come and when? Let me know as soon as possible. Hotels! There is a delightful one in Siena - I spent a night there on the way down - cool, clean and quiet and very courteous, very friendly people.

Today is another festa. Corpus Domini. Everything bedecked again and banners and flowers and noises. And all that old cavernous mumbo-jumbo inside the churches, and outside the blaze of blue and gold which turns it all to nonsense. Fido, what an odd old bumblebee Cecil Grey is! I like him very much, a profound kind of beast, who loves to sit with his pipe or Toscani cigar and drink quietly litre after litre of wine. His wife is an actress. He wondered whether to mention to Perdita the state of affairs, but we agreed it wasn't necessary. One couldn't quite envision Pup rushing into his arms crying "Daddy! Darling!" But that girl does brood too much. She seems empty. Is something wrong, do you think? She doesn't talk very much, and when she does it's superficial - I almost said artificial. I don't understand her. And she is such a dear. I suppose, mainly, she's lonely; and the kind of males she takes a fancy to are not the kind to respond. Anyway, she spends most of her time on the beach and today is sailing with Colby. Who will NEVER leave, my dear! We are now going to arrange to have him blackmailed. Sheer desperation. I am so absurdly happy here: I love it with an absolute tingling joy. We went to Positano in a boat, and I left the party on the beach and took an old cab and went up into the fantastic cags with the changing lights of the maestrale clouds winding round the summits... suddenly rushing torrents. From miles below the wail of voices so Arabic in the dissonances, one remembered how Saracenic it all was - even the domed white roofs. An enchanted afternoon: and the return

in the evening to the misty silhouette of this isle of legend -
designed by a master hand for its fables and dramas. Well, excuse me,
one gets that way here and I like it better than the way one gets in
Manhattan; if I do babble a little dementedly, it's because, remember,
apathy and disgust had settled on me almost like the volcanic dust
that has settled on these regions.

It seems you are apt to be stranded with Grace Wormser unless
you wriggle out of it in a hurry! Don't let her intrude, my dear, you
can always have urgent business in Zurich - or Capri - or anywhere,
but they seem to plan to spend three weeks! Mamma mia!

I am being a very good old dog about my Italian. I have a lesson every day for an hour, and now I have begun an hour's study on my own. I did despair, thinking myself too old to learn, but things are beginning to move. If I ever spawned a brat I'd teach it languages from the word aller. Let the damned geometry, chemistry, physics, and all that muck come later IF required.

I trust the Small Dog is being very happy in the crumbling basket
and that all goes well. Now would be the time, perhaps, for the
inclusion of a Lhasa Apos Poodle into the establishment?

It's so wonderful. It's now four thirty and the South Wind is
blowing up a dense sirocco, to be ready for the big procession of
the Corpus at 6! It seems never to fail. This is much too Hellenic,
I am afraid.

Now I must write René; so *ciao!* (It's a new word meaning "solong"
and comes from Milan, but everybody uses it now. Pronounced "Chow!"

Allora, ciao, cara,

Much love.

Rover

Il cane vecchio!

Pensione Villa Certosa,
Isola di Capri

30th May, 1947

Darling Fido,

Your lovely letter of the 24th duly arrived (yesterday) and I'd have answered it right away but had succumbed to a slight malaise, a natural reaction, no doubt, to too much sun, food and excitement. Today I feel wonderful again, so here we go. I believe you may be right about the spell of Capri - naturally it will never again be quite so unbelievable, because this time it is literally reaching port after not exactly the tempests but rather the Saragossa sea of New York; the contrast is so immense, the goodness of it all so warming and reviving, I am still a little shaky with it all. How I love Europe! And how I love, love, love the Southern Italians - like children with lovely manners, and such Hellenic beauty and grace, and so gay, with a little undertow of melancholy - well, you know all about them! As to the Palio, it is in the beginning of August. I will find out the exact date - I believe it is the 5th. - and I shall arrive in Siena about ten days before that and disinter a scholarly old prince there who will help me with the archives. Meanwhile, I am struggling with the language - a daily lesson of conversation and reading and I think progress is being made, though sometimes it seems I am going backwards to such a negative that even English is disappearing! Then, unexpectedly, all at once, I hear myself using words I didn't even realise I knew. Strange. Caracciolo (my teacher) says my accent will be very good when the tongue is drilled and familiar with its new antics. He (Caracciolo) is a great friend of Norman, a prince of one of the oldest and most illustrious Neapolitan families - you probably know the name, it goes back actually to Roman times - so my accent, what there is of it, will not be gutter. And, to return to our sheep, I will let you know the date of the Palio, and you must try to come. I would simply love to go to the Lucerne music festival, and would be immeasurably grateful if you could book me a room and get an abonnement for me. Would anybody else be going? If not, perhaps two rooms and two abonnements, then I can take somebody along....not Colby (who is NEVER going to leave me, my dear, NEVER!) who does not like music, the dolt. Why in heaven's name, with all Europe to choose from, is Elsie in Scotland? She must be out of her mind. (Frankly, between you and me, I occasionally suspect she is - just a teeny bit, of course.)

Such weather! So bright, it seems to go right through one, you become a prism. I went (alone) with a charming marinaio called Peppino for a long sail, way out to sea and round the island. It was a lyrical day, an ancient pattern bearing its happy ghost of antiquity: perhaps one of the most beautiful days I have ever spent. I'm afraid that this place really does drip its spell into you, and quite dissolves any resistance; the sirens do really sing-"like Jesus Christ, my dear!" an almost occult sweetness melts in you: it is such an ancient land..... goodness, how one can rant! Rene laughs at me in his letters, saying how lyrical I've become. Well, why not? It isn't always you can be sure you are perfectly happy, waking and sleeping, and that tomorrow you will be the same. So I am very, very grateful - and above all to you, Fido, who made all this possible.

Norman is so well - grumbles about his age, but he's happy too - this, after all, is almost his island. The villa still pends - no hurry! This pensione is charming, the ancient Certosa is under its terrace, and under that the sea and the Faraglioni, so one isn't so badly off. ....Well, - my love as always,

15 May, 1947

Darling Fido,

Many thanks for your delightful card from the fields of
neige de printemps, and for your letter, and for the beautiful
shirt you so very kindly sent for Ettore. He is delighted with
it, proud as punch and although he hasn't been allowed to wear
it yet, we had a dress rehearsal and agreed it was very beautiful.

We are in the midst of the annual festa of San Costanzo.
Guns, rockets, explosions, trumpets, a gale and a drizzle. Banners
snapping like whips, processions of wind-torn bishops, priests,
acolytes and the devout, skirts over heads, surplices and red and
purple billowing and popping, candles all blown out, tin whistles,
noise-makers, peddlars, millions of red carnations, rain of
petals from balconies, the ridiculous saint in silver bobbing on
the cautious shoulders, a municipal band emitting the most
ghoulish noises...everybody very happy, in their best...horrible
processions of little girls chanting piously while trying to
hold off the heads and faces a cloud of pale-blue butter muslin.
And everybody grumbling, but not seeming to mind, "cattivo tempo!"
When the Napoli-Capri boat arrived yesterday evening at six it
was greeted by a terrifying salvo from the end of the harbour mole,
and, of course, greeted back, with the full power of its mechanical
lungs. This, plus the milling throngs, plus the fact that the
government had just fallen, is said to have so terrified an elderly
dame on board ΜΜΑ who knew nothing of the festa, that she thought
civil war had broken out and promptly fainted.

Perdita arrived duly two afternoons ago, and is cosily
settling in. Sirocco, pelting rain showers, blustering gales...
she brought them, we teaze, and must mend her ways or wend her way!
I find it refreshing after sun, sun, sun. Cattivo tempo, but
exhilarating, And every once in a while the sun does waver and
teaze and dries in a second the tiles on the terrace, which are then
promptly resplashed with rain. Very "South Wind."!

I understand you will be scaling peaks through July. If
that is the case, I shall probably stay on longer and wend my way
north to Siena and wait over the early August Palio. How about
coming down for that? Then I could come straight to Suisse, or
whatever seems indicated.

Excuse brevity, but life is somewhat hectic during this
celebration - and Capri filling up with new faces, and people
to rush to see and rushing to see one....and me trying, trying, to
make some notes worth keeping. Well, enjoy your dear self among
the fleurs and, naturally, the Kenwin weeds! My best to the Bear
and the V. Pats to the four-legged tyrants.

Easter Sunday

6 Ap 1947

Darling Fido,

HOTEL DE PARIS
MONTE-CARLO

ADRESSE TÉLÉGRAPHIQUE PARISOTEL
TÉLEPHONE 018-11

Thankyou very much for the lovely Easter Greetings. I would have written earlier but so much has been happening. Where to begin? The trip down was, as you may have gathered, not without its little mishaps. Everything went smoothly at first. Lunch at Annecy with Vail and Jean, on to Grenoble arriving in the early evening, and descending on what looked like a sea of blossoms archipelagoed with little roofs. Wisteria out, weeping willows bright as fireworks. But O God! The hotel. Never have I seen anything so completely Therese Raquin, and ice, ice cold. My room was the size of Kenwin done in dark green with explosions of wild roses, two enormous carved, appalling beds a wardrobe to match eight feet in width, a table in the middle also carved, two armchairs, and also carved, a chest of drawers as big as an ocean liner, also carved, and a giant bathroom with nine different pieces of plumbing three of them to me, totally mysterious. A dark green table cloth, a dark green carpet and one faint light in the ceiling. Lovely. All went well next day till after Sisteron, where we lunched. Very badly damaged; nearly all the centre gone, the bridges, etc. About 15 kilometres out of Sisteron Colby said "O! Kenneth!" He pressed on the accelerator and nothing happened. We coasted the hill toward the bridge which turned at the bottom and got off the road. A long walk back up the hill. A village. But no mechanic. A garagiste telephoned to another village 11 Km. away. He would come. We waited and waited and he did come. Meanwhile all the local jeunesse, delighted with the dilemmas of the rich Swiss, crowded round and I had a tough time keeping them from pulling the car apart in their well-intentioned but devastating way. Well, we had to be towed to a filthy village on wrong side of river called les Mées: there they took out the fuel pump. It took two hours.

Visioning the possibility of having **th** spend
the night in that hole, I was grumpy and dep-
ressed, but in the end we got off and arrived
in Monte at 11.20. Hotel de Paris is not as
expensive as you might think because they
change cheques at a lovely figure and sell
petrol vouchers and do everything you shouldn't
do but love to. We've had to postpone departure
till Thursday because General Motors at Nice
isn't open over Paques and we need a new fuel
pump. I think the Gen. Motors Garage at
Lausanne should be severely spanked: not only
did they quite obviously not bother to see that
the pump and its filters were worn out but
the petrol indicator which they were supposed
to fix doesn't work, and some wires collapsed
and left us stranded exactly half way to Menton
late at night and poor Pop had to walk home
the busses had stopped and we had to walk all
the way back to the hotel and get them to dig
out a mechanic to rescue the car which was
standing abandoned in the road and I was very
frightened we'd find it rifled; but we didn't.
I hope you don't think this very funny, because
I do **not!!!** Tuesday she must have another
overhaul a very thorough one. O, and the
Lausanne garage lost the frames for the plaques
Altogether I think they should be sued. But as
Chester said, never try to sue a Swiss.
Monte is fantastically unchanged, all dressed
up in Easter flowers: Menton is pocked from
end to end with machine gun bullets: some
from planes, some from the ground: all bridges
around, everywhere, destroyed and temporary
ones taking their place. One sunken gunboat
in Monaco Harnour which they are raising to
the surface. Weather typically Mediterranean.
The sun doesn't fall on you, it enters you
and you feel sparkling and crystalline. Food
everything, plentiful, expensive (but not for
us) I enclose some useful little slips of
paper for you and trust the Small Dog will use
them in buying some very specially good bones.
Pop is very well, very brown and happy.
Now I must rush off again - dinner time.
A million thanks for everything - I loved
Suisse more than I can say and every minute
there. So love to all and bless you

352 East 55th. Street
N. Y. C.

30th August, 1948

Fido darling,

Very happy to get yours this-morning of the 16th.
How air-mail is speeding up! Also, very mystified, but
trust the perfidious States will justify the dipping of
immaculate tail tip in ink....I have an excellent
remover if needed! Shall be delighted to send it. What
a bore to have to go to London. What a bore to have to
come to New York. I dislike it with a sort of quiet but
deadly venom....however, it's all, let us hope, in a good
cause. I've put the entire situation up to Rene....I am
of course (provided they give me so soon another re-entry
permit, which I'm sure they will) actually an alien resident
and unless they block the currencies - which I doubt
unless war starts - I am entitled to money for "visits abroad".
In any case, everything I have goes straight into the trust,
which is as you know administered by the Chemical and by
Rene as my trustee....all remittances to Italy can be, as
they always so far have, made by Rene personally. I've
asked him to find out about a trader visa. I see myself being
a buyer for Kleins or Bloomingdales! Simon and Schuster
are looking (I'm sure with intense disfavour) at my
mss. In any case, I suppose I shall get one of those
thoroughly rewarding American publishers' letters explaining
how good it is and how wholly unsaleable. Anyway, you liked
the bits I read, N. likes it and Rene likes it....so perhaps
one day it may come out. The great thing it is finished.
A job done. My first in years, and a little one at that
but that gives me courage to go on and do another one.
I'm delighted of course about Beowulf. And hope it does come
out here. Much too good for these barbarians!

I'll remember the Taverne du Chillon....what a good
place for a good restaurant! A charming corner that - one
gets that tug of the past - after all, the Neolithic lake
dwellers were in that region.

God, this world situation is a mess! I do, do hope
it isn't another 1939. If it is, I must get back to Europe
even if to be a guerilla in the Italian mountains: I'd die
quite simply if I had to remain here. Just die. So, might
as well do it where the heart is.

Trust this reaches you on your return. I shall say
no word to Pup - she's off Saturday (I missed her cocktail
party yesterday, thinking in my naughty unc. that it was
today....Hopeless creature!) And Robin Douglas flies to
Naples next Saturday.....and I'm here. Ouf!

Much love Fido, be careful AND successful,

#%" (Chinese for 352 E. 55th)

18th August

Fido darling,

thankyou v.v. much for your letter of the 14th.
(got here quickly) arrived this morning. Read with great
interest and I have already written Rene quoting your
first paragraph about American restrictions on currencies
abroad. Perish the thought! In ogni modo, as we say at
home, I've asked him to find out about trader visas....I
have told him I could import hand-woven stuffs from Capri
(two odd baronesses run it and their work is lovely) or
ceramics or olive oil or all three and asked if he knew
any of the Macys, Gimbels, Wannamachers, Kleins, Saks or
Bloomingdales. Actually I do have alien resident status
here and can keep it IF they grant me another re-entry
permit. I am sure they will, for I can explain, stretching
truth a little, that I own two properties in Italy, one
on Capri, which I'm "improving" and must supervise, the
other in Florence on the Arno, which was badly knocked about
by shellfire and the blowing up of bridges, and NEW
MUST be supervised or all may be lost. N has given me
permission to say it's mine....so I think I won't have
any more than at worst initial difficulties about getting
another re-entry permit, valid for 12 months and renewable
for six more. Anyhow, a letter goes to Rene with this
when I sail out as soon I shall. Thanks for the warning.
We'll look into it. And get everything settled and the trust
set up and controlled by R.

I think your "scandal in the town" is rather
lovely and touching....what a good story it would make.
Why don't you use the incident to build one on? It's so
valiant and pathetic and brave. Poor gal! You and your
Paris best-seller and radio fame! Collette, take a back seat!
WHY don't you do The T.B. Boy.?

America is awful, awful. Those unaspiring
phalluses stretched against a sky of grey steam. The
summer visitors. The parrokeet accents. The cocoon, unborn
souls. Vulgarity that's slimy not sharp. Ouf! I count
the hours, which as always, being ones of strain, multiply
into infinity. I hate it, and because of Capri, because you
made it possible, I'm stronger than it, and to hell with it!

J. being madly successful, I'm so glad to report,
in one of the "boite" smash-hits. Have seen Pup....seems
very sweet and happy and looks v. well. You'll see her, of
course - the lucky brat sails on Saturday. Ah me! Pazienza!
At least, I feel all this IS accomplishing something. I'm
tidying up like mad and the efficiency, born of loathing,
does not desert me. I think I'm ahead of schedule.
AND I will see you soon - really, it is quite soon, isn't
it!

Much love as always and for always,

352 East 55th St
New York, N. Y.

11th August, 1948

Fido darling,

One mitigating blessing on arriving in
the bedraggled squalor of this Great City was your
letter. Yes, it is - 0, how it is! - ghastly. After
my lovely crag, this....! However, the effect of
profound loathing can sometimes become an ally...I have
developed a totally unsuspected efficiency which
jet-propels me out of bed about seven each morning and
by noon I have accomplished more than formerly I used
to accomplish in a month! By this method, for once a
complete union of conscious and unconscious (we're
getting on very well just now, both of us deciding it
seems that this Just Wont Do! Again, bless you for the
superb rescue job in Paris. Still a dark mystery, but
the Capri gestapo is out and I'm sure enjoying itself.

Poor dreadful old Elsie - what is going to
happen to her if she cannot put up even with ministering
analysts? I shall call Pup today. Until now I've
seen nobody, and, of course, the moment I call Pup
the town will be clamouring. But...I've got some good
alibis....a trip to Chicago (fictitious) to deliver
documents to Norman Douglas' son Robin, and a trip (real)
to Canada with Rene. I may be able to get an earlier boat
back....On the Elizabeth, they told me three hundred
return to Europe trips had been cancelled, but, of course
if, as I think, the Berlin talks end in agreement,
ships will be full again, so I'd better see Olney fairly
soon and get an alternative. WHY NOT? If I get through
with what I have to do, no point in torturing myself.
I understand there'll be no difficulty about a new
re-entry permit - all they care about is the payment
of taxes, and that is being done and has been, by Rene.

The life of Toulouse Lautrec is here and will be
sent off separately.

All the bounty, Fido, is more than I deserve. WHEN, HOW shall I ever be able to do something to make this worth your while? O, yes...I had a letter from the Societe de Banque Suisse, saying the $2,000 was there all the time but in a temporary free USA $ account and now has been credited to a free USA $ account. So that explains the seeming abduction! How about the poor dear old Buick? I didn't hear from the lawyer. Please, Fido, do remember, all money I owe or shall owe on it, is strictly and only my affair, and if you've had expenses please let me know about them.

Yes, I'm keeping the N.Y. apartment. Can always
sublet very profitably. The shortage is still acute.
Jimmie very well, very successful - in a "hit" club.

Hotel Lancaster

Rue de Berri

Paris

27 July, 1948

Fido darling,

You are, without exaggeration, the most wonderful being that ever existed. How anyone could have leapt into action so fast...last-night on arrival, your telegram. This morning, from the Morgan Bank a telephone call "We have three hundred dollars for you"...and in the morning mail your letter. It would be easy to drivel on for pages about the all-but miracle of this, of your thoughtfulness, of your waving the telegram....once again, more than all possible thanks, for it saved me from a most embarrassing dilemma. Let me tell you the story. In my little leather case on Friday last, I put my passport, reentry permit, various cheque-books, various vital documents AND counted my dollars. There were 425, which I put in paper with the amount written on it. And there were eleven thousand french francs. Then I left the case open on my bed while I put various important letters and papers in marked envelopes. During all this time I could not have been absent from the room for more than about two periods of not more than a minute or two each. When I had everything collected, I locked the case and pocketed the key. On arrival in Milan some instinct made me open the case to look and see if the money was safe. Three hundred dollars had gone. The rest was there and the french money was there. I went through everything. I'd stayed a night in Napoli, where I kept everything firmly locked, and unless someone in the hotel had a master key, robbery was impossible, and unlikely since they'd have taken all? So it seems to boil down to a robbery from my bedroom. Now the villa is remote and impossible to visit without being seen. It is impossible to think it could have been an inside job - old Maria, the cook, has been Norman's cook for fortyfive years, Michele, her husband, the gardener, is quite too gaga and was not around that morning, the butler was down in the town doing errands for me, and only the housemaid was there and I cannot for the life of me think she could have got into the room-unless she was watching...but a simple, affable, silly girl, excellent in the house and with good references....by the way this entire formidable staff gets an aggregate salary of less than a hundred dollars a month!....and so the mystery is great and very disagreeable because people on Capri are usually one hundred per cent. honest, - well, that is that. I wrote at once to the butler telling him to have a police investigation, and not to prosecute if it was someone known to me. Then, in Milan, my dilemma began. What was I to do for cash? Too late to get live, impossible to take out English cash, and only 125 dollars! Then I thought of Fido who comes to the rescue of everybody, and can you wonder why I thought of Fido? Look at what happened! It has saved the day, and in sheer thankfulness and relief, I blew myself to a superb luncheon in the Bois which I ate and drank to your health, and it set me back twelve dollars, and was worth it - AS a celebration, of course.

Whizzed by Kenwin at 12.45. I was at the window all the way from Villefranche but did not see you. Kenwin looked beautiful and gay - some awning on the roof - trees very big - no boxers in

Villa Tuoro

Capri 23 July

Fido darling,

many thanks for your letter of the 20th just
received. I liked the "fish story"...it makes your
description of rain a little frightening. Summer has
hit here with a nuclear bang...foretaste of what I'm
going into. How I dread it, how I dread it! Particularly
as if there is a war I may be glued over there again.
Ma...speriamo!

Now...my address in N. Y. as before - 352
East 55. No letters after Sept 15. I sail on the
Elizabeth Sept 23.

Jimmie's clothes. Not this time, I think. I'm
travelling so light I'd hate to spoil it - just stuff
for the trip. Coming back will be different. I shall
have Everything! And can bring J's stuff down here and
if he ever wanders south can hand it over - not needed
I am more than sure, all old and fatigues.

Mine is not the Rome Paris express. No such
luck. Every seat booked till November. So I spend
night in Milano and get the Milano Paris express which
leaves Milano I think about seven in the Morning.

Where you are on my return can be easily
found out as I MAY have to stay two or three days in
Paris to see Pop - I cannot face Inghilterra and will
try to lure him to France for a long weekend or the
equivalent. He's so venerable I feel I have to do this -
but will allow him plenty of leeway if he is not too
enthusiastic, as well he may not be. So I can let
you know and you can let me know, one way or another.

If I can do anything for you in N. Y. let me
know. I loathe the thought to a degree - I mean NY.
not doing something for you! - but as one has to pay
for everything in life, I suppose I can regard it as
payment on a future run of happy life in this most
lovely Paradiso.

I'll try to contact as to time of passing
- if possible it would be wonderful to see you for one
flashing second, or would it add to the miseries of
departure? I think probably it would.

Much love, Fido darling, all gratitude, and
pray for a big dog who feels very much like a dignified
hound ordered "Rover! What have you been doing? We
will have to rub your nose in it!"

Love too, to Kat ed al.

Poor Olivia's brother, Dick, was killed
in Jerusalem.......what a year!

Villa Tuoro
Isola Capri.
12 July, 1948

Fido darling,

This will definitely go Kenwin, and wait for you
on the 19th. Time is running out fast - funny how
when hurried and all planned, the unexpected always crops
up to crowd and harry last movements. Of course, I have
added to it by discovering a wonderful old book on Capri
translated in 1896 by Norman's sister from the German
of Gregorovius, and with Norman's help, felt I had to write
in one more chapter of contrasts - Then and Now. Such changes
I'll leave their recounting till you see the Mss - or better
still, I hope, the printed page. It has gone to Rene who
was very anxious to see it and advise. When I get over we
shall see.

Norman still fussing over his Mss. Went charging
over to the Naples Library, where he heard an earlier edition
of a book he mentioned was in existence, and found it far
less complete. "You see, that's an important indictment to
make. Can't have any margin of error. More than my life's
worth!"

Fido, I do think with pangs that I ought not to
stop in Suisse this time. As I say, there is so very much to
crowd into these last two weeks. I think I ought to go
straight up. Impossible to get Rome Paris sleepers, so will
spend one night in Milan (god!) and then straight to Paris.
Train leaves Milan at seven A.M. so shall pass Kenwin I
suppose about one-ish, when you, no doubt will be at lunch.
Or it may be later - no idea! I shall look out and drop
a figurative votive offering. On return about 28 Sept, I
shall come straight to Suisse - can stay in Vevey or Entre
Deux-Villes.

Have noted re "allocation" - I suppose Rene has all
the details. O, by the way, the Swiss Bank still has no
information about the $2,000. Hadn't you better look in to it
- not pressing at all, but too noble a sum to let
evaporate.

No wonder people are uneasy about the trend of events.
Have noted carefully your comments - certainly a critical
business: one only hopes no untoward incident will set the
spark. Actually it is so monstrous that our Asiatic friends
I think should have a Hiroshimo done on them ma subito!

Too bad you've had such appalling weather. I do
hope it cheered up after your letter. It's been unsettled
here too - some evenings quite chilly, but then, of course,
no rain....we could do with some, and it looks as if I shall
have to buy a few tons of Naples water....They pump it up
from water-boats in the harbour. However, our cisterns are
very big - there were two and the excavations for a third,
which I had lined and put in order but not yet in use. Next
year we shall not have to buy a drop.

I shall try to get a trader visa - good idea. Wonder
what my business will be? I'll talk it over with Rene. Something
in the export line, perhaps? Olive oil but I think not fancy
goods!

More letters later, Fido. Bless you.

Much love,

Yilla Tuoro

Capri. 3 July, 1948

Darling Fido,

Tonight we are having the festa for the workmen
which reminds me of that long-ago festa in Vevey!

All work is completed, and now there will be only
peace and quiet - then I shall have to go, then no doubt
war will be declared and Italy will become Stalin's.

Meanwhile, excitement reigns. A giant banquet
is being prepared by our old Maria Grazie - mountains of
veal, pyramids of salami, mortadella, etc, a Matterhorn
of spaghetti, saragossa seas of sauce, and one hundred
litres of wine. Chinese lanterns everywhere,
a Neapolitan group of musicians and singers (eight of
them) and four tarantella dancers in costume. Every
lady gets 3½ metres of summer material for a dress (our
butler's practical idea) and every man gets 5,000 lire
On one terrace the banquet, on the other, dancing.
Norman will act as Ganymede and I shall be a mere
waiter. I imagine it will all be great fun, and of
course, all Capri has heard of it. Old Michele the
gardener has been robbing half the gardens of Capri
and has just staggered up with two boys, all three of the
invisible beneath branches of blossoms. I'm sure it sounds
almost Roman as regards sumptuousness, but actually
it is the custom here for the workers to erect and
trim their own table; plates and glasses are borrowed
from our favourite restaurant, and actually there is
almost no cost except for the presents. Norman is buying
the wine, I'm providing the food.

How is your playground? Do you still have
concerts? In case you are de retour when this arrives
I'll mail it to Kenwin. You did give me dates, but
the letter is locked up indoors and I'm up on the roof.

I think, Fido, that what I shall do for several
reasons, is go straight through to Paris leaving here
about the 27th. OR a couple of days earlier is Pop can
come to Paris. I haven't seen the old boy for a long
time and he IS rather hoary! Then, I though I'd come
straight to Lausanne or Vevey on the way back and
try to persuade you to come to Italy. I promise I
shall not nag, but it WOULD be nice! I'm telling
people in States I MAY be over but not before the
middle of August. Actually I arrive on fourth or
fifth.

Much love to Kat e tante belle cose
and very many happy and grateful barks and love from

Capri, 14 April, 1948

Fido darling,

good, conscientious old Hotel de la Paix has
forwarded these to me. I do hope not important.

Capri beautiful now, a bedlam of flowers. Weather
more than celestial. This in immense haste, as I have to
jump down to the Piazza to meet Sir Darcy Osborne, Minister
to the Vatican, of all things, and we have to have a
somewhat pompous luncheon with him. Woe is me! Graham Greene
has just been here. Very nice fellow tied to a dreadful
bitch.

I'm reading Cefalù now with the greatest enjoyment.
What a good writer! I cannot thank Kat enough. As to the
delicious Venetian journey to Jerusalem, I'm having immense
fun with it. The Italian is archaic and some words even
Norman doesn't know, but it is quite delightful. I do thank
you. Election news from Embassies all good. Very encouraged
by "inside dope". Is the $2,000 you mentioned actually on
deposit with the Societe de Banque Dussé? They sent my
account but did not mention it.

My love in great haste, a good letter will follow.

Capri 24 Jan, 1948

Darling Fido,

I abandoned my letter to the Insurance people when I found it was such a list of questions. If it isn't troubling you too much, it would be so much simpler and quicker if you could have Miss V. telephone them and get the answers right away - or Marcel could perhaps go and see them. The car is in a garage in Rome awaiting replacement parts from Switzerland which cannot be purchased in Italy. When it is put together again I should like to sell it if possible, here in Italy where I am domiciled. Meanwhile, if I could get permission to change the registration from Swizs to Italian, so much the better. You can tell them that the car was involved in a serious accident necessitating some major replacements, and that even when patched up will not be fit for much more service and unsuitable for travel from Italy to Switzerland. What procedure must I follow to change registration, to get permission to sell, what are the formalities, how long will it take?

I hate to bother you, but it would be such a help and save so much time.

I'm glad that Robert enjoyed his trip and liked New York. Every time I think of it I shrink a little. I suppose I shall not actually mind it once I am there, but O dear! Capri changes one's ability to withstand vulgarity. I got my application for re-entry sent off registered air-mail, met the consul and a couple of vice-consuls, all very nice and friendly, through David Jeffreys, our own Consul at Naples. They said if there was ever any hitch they would issue a visa right away. I really do wonder if it will be necessary to maintain resident status in the States now that I have my visto di lunga durata here? It might and in fact would make a big difference to income tax. Rene would have fits - he thinks America is the only place to be in, and perhaps from the view of financial security it is a good idea, yet I should leave my money exactly where it is, and just use what I need over here.

I must try to get a copy of Osbert's new book sent down here.

How is Suisse after your tropical experiences? It must seem very cold. Changeable weather here, but always dramatic, and never cold, The big storm was purest fantasy, the sea tossed in long slow-motion white tongues half way up the precipices. Naturally I went to the Faraglione to look at it and remained entranced through two wild flights of rain that blotted out everything. It was heavenly.

It is such a blissful feeling to have everything settled and safe. Couldn't love it more. N. is well. and sends love. Mine to Kat and to wonderful Fido,

Capri 3rd. January, 1948

Darling Fido,

My last letter was written c/o Rene, - I don't know if you got it or not, but anyway you will. I wonder how your flight was (will be?) It always seems odd to talk of a future event in the past tense - a little like Dunne!

As I wrote, I have postponed again my trip to the U.S.A. This may be repeating, but anyhow, Norman though better, was not well - don't mention it either to him or to anyone else, he would hate it known and would never forgive me if he thought I had told anyone. I had my ticket on the Saturnia for December 28, but cancelled it immediately. I am getting my reentry permit extended for six months and will go over in July. It may sound crazy to go to N. Y. in summer, but actually it isn't, as Capri in Summer is impossible anyway - all those dreadful Neapolitan hordes, not only day-trippers, but summer visitors. And New York will be empty, and I wont have so many of the old bores to cope with!

At very long last the money has gone through all those devious, dishonest channels desired by that old witch, Ivancich (proprietress of the Ulivella) and on Monday 5th. the deal will be closed, and thanks to a naughty small dog, the lovely house will belong entirely to Rover! What a lucky, happy dog! SUCH a kennel! You must come early in Spring and stay late. Just now the weather is almost wickedly glorious. The sea is quite purple and the sky bluer than stained glass, and the sun like X-rays. Mimosa is out, jasmin, genistra beginning, jonquils, daffodils, roses - a magic spot! I shall never be able to thank you enough, Fido. I only pray the damned quarrelling nations don't force me out of it! They won't succeed any too easily.

I shall be interested to get news of your trip - to know where you went and when. And how you got back. Please give all my love to Kat, and remember me to Bear and the little bear with the sore head.

And Fido, though gratitude has been defined as a lively expectation of future benefits, in this case it is absolute and everlasting. Life is full and beautiful; there is nothing more I could want. Bless you, bless you, bless you! I still believe I am dreaming.

Villa Tuoro Capri

16 Jan 1949

Darling Fido,

Many thanks for your letter of Jan 13. Horrified at the Swiss tax dilemma - that would be an impossible state of affairs. Quite seriously, why don't you consider moving to Italy where there is NO income tax and you don't have to declare ANYTHING? I do trust the little dog will get that tail right back into the soot bin and keep his soldi from all those grim avaricious clutching fingers. Yes, I shall certainly hang onto the American life line. To start the weaving company would cost very little, but to incorporate a company in the U.S. I suppose would need at any rate a nominal capital, which I can raise out of savings; IF it happened, the point is, you see, I'd be free to remain indefinitely here as manager, keep the status, and SAVE back the invested capital by not making trips which are bound to cost two to three thousand dollars each time; this quite apart from the fact that there might be good profit. As you say, one would have to have a live man over there. Fred Stettenheim is working on it for me, and I'd thought of James Auster or one of the top decorators...the stuff would be snob and expensive, but not exorbitant - nob in the sense of the Larchmont hostess who wants her bridge parties to have something Jahst too darling. And all these things are "one of a kind." If you need quite stunning table cloths or lengths of material for gifts or for the house, let me know and I'll send you some. If you need them for you, let me have dimensions of table and she'll make them specially in the right size.

Books. It's sweet of you to bother to send me a book on Italy. I'm very excited indeed. And sweet too to off to look out books on Capri - I'm trying to collect a library on Capri, have a few already, and Gerio has more than kindly contributed all his own works and some monographs and even rare folders. But the better books are hard to find. Those I have are the Mangoni, the Mackowen "Capri" the Allers and one rare but hideous book of drawings with a big facsimile letter from Dannunzio. Old maps would be fun if you down across any. Yes, please, Fido, I'd love some of my books - the art books especially. Is there by any chance my copy of Old Calabria among my books. I'm also missing Alone and Fountains in the Sand but may possibly have overlooked them in the U.S. I refer to first editions. I had a cheap one of Alone as well. On the whole, I don't think I shall bother with novels - unless first editions of people of stature and then only European ones. And I believe there aren't any among my Swiss collection. Mainly I suppose the art and animal books. Keep any you want or like. Aren't there some old editions of "Camera" and books of photographs? They'd be nice - always can get a hint from them.

Naples. You are an angel. I'll find out about the Italian import regulations I imagine there aren't any except a duty to be paid, and I shall arrange for the wine to be sent to Naples and my brilliant lawyer Porzio will give someone a little douceur and they'll get by. Italy, thank god, is so charmingly corruptible. When they send them, wouldn't you like a few cases dropped off in Switzerland? By the way, when I sent over from States all my gramophone records (about 2,000) half my books, masses of garden furniture, a lot of kamps, bibelots, large paintings, silver, bedlinen, blankets, towels, etc (all highly dutiable) Porzio got it through the customs for 25,000 lire, which sounds a lot but is roughly $35. I might have had to pay over $1,000. So, if ever you need a good lawyer here, he's your man!

Do, do come this Spring. I'm sure you'd love it. I'd come to Rome (the trains are very clean and comfortable, though I suppose you'd come direct on the Simplon Orient. Then we'd come down together - it's only 2½ hours. We leave Rome on the morning train and catch the 2:30 o'clock boat for Capri and are here at 5. Your trip to States I do not envy, nor, frankly, that other one. I was never a snow-man, as you know. I am not at the present moment able to give you best cheap hotels in Napoli or Roma but David Jeffreys is due today from Napoli and I'll ask him, and keep this letter open and add what information he can give. Roma is expensive anyhow, comparatively speaking, though 1/10 the price of Paris.

Lots of love and thanks,

2

Hotels:

Napoli
*Hotel Cavour (near station) cheap and clean.
*Pensione Scandanavia - Danish, very clean
Via Caracciolo (the Neapolitan Promenade es Anglais)
*Pensione Corona (Santa Lucia) Phone: 10872
*Pensione Colmayer " " Phone 22381

Santa Lucia is the old seafront, ports, etc. Picturesque.

all these clean and cheap. If he goes to Naples, he'd better
look up Capt David Jeffreys at the British Consulate, he is charming and will
show him all the best bistros and pubs and tell him anything he wants to know
about the city and environs. Or he could write him at his home address,
213 Via Posillipo, Rocca Belvedere, Napoli.

Roma
*Hotel Washington, Corse Umberto Lire 800 - 1000
*Hotel Inghilterra (address in Baedecker) about 1200 to 1500
(very good. Esther Arthur and other friends staying there)
*Il Piccolo Hotel (nr. Piazza di Spagna -v.central) 800
*Hotel Colonna (off Piazza di Spagna) 1,000

The pound is about 2,000

If anyone DOES come to Italia, the best place to leave my camera etc. would be in Florence at the Hotel Baglioni. I am writing to them to hold it for me when it (if it) comes, and perhaps you could send me an air mail card when and if it is being sent. Alternatively, in Rome at the Hotel Hassler, Piazza di Spagna, to which I am also writing. If in Naples, then with David.

I enclose three pretty cards to give you an idea of the paradiso you gave me. The big one is of the front door. Below are Norman's rooms and guest room, entrance hall, stairs, etc. Above, kitchen, living-room, study and bedrooms. At this moment, Fido, we have these flowering: mimosa trees, camellia, pansies, crocus, violets, azaleas, hibiscus, jonquils, african daisy, genistra, lavender, geranium, several varieties of cactus, bougainvillea and salvia. Tulips are two inches high, daffodils the same, roses sprouting, poppies, freezias, cannas, stock, nicotiana, paeonies, hyacinths, cyclamen, and dozens of others all in various stages of development - iris all but out - and so on. It's quite mad and quite heaven. With weather to match. Doesn't it tempt you to come don? Incidentally, would love to take coloured photos of the garden as it will be qualchecosa! I wonder if you'd be an angel and telephone transioli and say I'd like to reopen my account with him, and arrange to get from him supplied of ANSCO colour film for the Leica camera, which I would then have to return for developing and printing. You cannot get it here. If he has this and can do it, I would ask him to send everything registered air-mail. I'm sorry to be always troubling you, but there ought to be a record of all this overdone eden. If you look carefully, you'll see the backview of the little Verocchio Amor which was the Christmas card I sent to Kat, and if you look at that you see what we have to gaze out at. So, if I seem to rave, you'll get the reason why. It's all so gay. And I'm quite in love with it, and naturally, with the tiny jewel of a garden. The Brahea blue palm is flourishing. Sorry I have not a picture, but I'll send one - in colour.

Villa Tuoro Capri

10th Jan, 1949

Darling Fido,

this is a pure nuisance letter for which I straightway apologise.
I've had an estimate from Genoud for repairs to the Buick for 2,500 francs
plus impot. I wonder if it would be possible to find out from him if it is
worth it? A very important thing is this: at the time of the accident and
until the beginning of last year I was covered by insurance. I would have
written to the lawyer you said was handling this matter but do not have his
name...I would like to find out how the situation stands, and if I can still
collect? On top of this amount for repairs, is the cost of garage in Rome and
of transport to Switzerland. It's a bloody bore, and forgive me please, but
if you would be such an angel as to get in touch with Genoud, he would, I
imagine, undertake to see Winthertour, or the lawyer would. If it's all too
great a nuisance, I can write from here (if you'll let me know the lawyer's
name and address) but that will take time.

That's all - and quite enough. How are you? When do you go, or don't
you, to the States?

All is well here - weather like anybody's dream of spring - all the
azaleas in full bloom and the hibiscus. Today a South-East wind (Libeccio)
making white caps - a feeling of spongy, quiet that comes with Spring.

Think I shall abandon this desk and charge up Monte Solaro.

Much love (and do excuse me, I hate to trouble you)
and please give my love to Kat.

VILLA TUORO
CAPRI

4 January, 1949

Darling Fido,

I need a new ribbon, hence this red-letter day. Your charm and ood
useful diary arrived on New Year's Eve - what better timing could one have?
Thankyou so much, it has already been put into use. The holidays here
have been quite extraordinary, not in what happened - just the usual
quiet revels - David Jeffreys and I staged a Dance of the % Veils, which
would have brought a blush to your cheek and did to mine when I remembered it
the following morning, but beyond that somewhat hilarious indiscretion, all
was tranquility. The extraordinary thing was (and is) the weather. Elsewhere
in Italy all is ice and fog and snow, here the sun has blazed for three
months, roses are bursting, bulbs are half way up, our hibiscus, which should
go into a little straw igloo for the winter is thick with blooms, so is the
gardenia bush, the early jonquils are jonquilling like mad, the garden
is full of birds and we sit on the terrace in shirts at midday, and
everyone says it's un sogno - a dream. And so it is. I wish you were here to
bask. Today Edwin Cerio comes to lunch; I shall pick his brains on garden
lore. He is fascinated by what we've done and keeps sending up choice plants
- just where they're to go I cannot think - will have to have hanging
gardens built and be Babylon. I've decided that Pal Joey must postpone his
war for a future year - just can't run to a boat - too many plans. All
work is done here, though, and paid for - the new terrace and cistern, the
pergola, the bathroom, etc. New covers for furniture, a new rug or two and
lamps, some plates and dishes, and now I have them all. So from January
costs will drop sharply, and this year should show a considerable saving.
I should like to try the hand-weaving business as an American company -
the little initial expenditure would be less actually than a trip to States
with the cost of living there and apart from that, would save the
damned nuisance of it and as a trader, I could stay away as long as I liked
and not lose resident status. Very gay about this year, very dug in and
at home and happy and always grateful to a small dog who made this
Paradiso possible. I'm so glad you like the Swiss passes - charming
engravings, I thought. Not too terribly dear. do you remember what
Maggs charged. And do you know if they have a Saint Non Voyage Pittoresque?
And if so could you find out what they ask for it? Because there is a
superb set in Rome at about $200 (a little over) and N. says "quite
enough too, my dear".

A lovely gift today: 25 2 litre flasks of vintage Ghiantis from Nella Papa.
Very sweet of her - the poor darling is so broken,,,p or old Emilio, we
still miss him greatly with his dear ways and wonderful Tuscan efficiency -
you can't find it in these handsome, indolent Southerners, yet as Emilio
would have said with his shrug "Mahl"

Sweet of you to bother to send me a book from Maggs - surely you've
given me far more than enough? Of course I shall love it - as I love
the enchanting Viaggio da Venetia...treasured and locked up among my
best first editions. I'm making a collection of books on Capri - the
bibliography is immense and very few available, but sometimes one stumbles
on something. Found two in Rome, not very important but fun. Cerio,
of course, has a priceless collection. No news of a Garden Encyclopedia?
I'd better try the States, yet theirs would be slightly irrelevant for this
continent, I feel. Glued here for the moment... still in the midst of festa
tomorrow being Epiphany, more handshakes and auguri.

Villa Tuoro Capri 3 Feb. 1949

Darling Fido,

so many things to write about I'd better get the business things settled
right away:

1. Wines. I enclose a note to Naples for your approval. The reason for sending it by sea, if possible, is that Porzio knows the port authorities at Naples and we will be able to get it in with just a bribe instead of the duty.

2. Fabric weaving. A big question. Again I enclose all data, which as you see is purely tentative, and open to suggestion. The important thing to find out - and Rene could do that - is if I can get the trade visa from here without a visit to the States.

Thank you about the dark news re exchange and financial situations generally. All big bills are paid here now, and the house is complete in every detail - in fact all I need now is virtually a supply of anti-aphid squirt stuff, and food and vino! As to clothes, one wears old corduroy in winter and thinnest cotton in summer, and I have therefore enough suits to last my lifetime! So I am not alarmed about being destitute unless there's a war and currencies are blocked; in any case, I keep a thousand dollars hidden like an old crone, as an emergency fund - I mean in ten and twenty dollar bills, and I think I might increase the amount in case at any time bribing might be necessary. What do you think of this idea?

3. Belongings in Switzerland.

I think the photographic material would be very fine to have. Naturally not the big projector and of the lamps (which may not work on Capri current, I do not know) perhaps only three or four. Among them the hand-spot lamp, and perhaps three standard and I should say ALL the bulbs as I imagine you cannot get them in Italy. Then there were the various lenses, brachyscope, etc. for the Debrie, as well as the spare spools in leather cases, the various light-screens, etc. And the Magnascope, or some such name - for running the film back and forth for cutting purposes. And the machine that cements the film strips together.

4. I'd like, too, the Borderline and Monkey's Moon - don't bother with old film scraps, of which there are many.

5. If you do not want them, I'd like very much to have to album or box of negro blues. (records). No others.

6. Car. No, Genoud simply forwarded to me the estimates for the repairs and I have them here. Edelweiss Garage at Lausanne quotes frs. 1997.55 plus impot and Carosserie Moderne Lausanne quotes frs. 527 plus impot. A hell of a lot of money to spend UNLESS Winhertour comes across. Then I'd have the car in good order again, and might be able to sell it at some small profit...I don't know what the market on used cars is in Switzerland, here it's pretty high, but one must remember, the Buick is an old lady now. The obvious dilemma is WHAT could I get for it, and if it is less than the cost of repairs, it wouldn't be worth having them made. I had better write Genoud and ask him his advice on what it could sell for, and that at least would be something to go on.

Poor Fido, what a troublesome letter. People and their infernal belongings - such an old paraphernalia gets drifted all over the world!

Yes, I have the little Chinese gods, thank you.

Note difference on Saint Non: Maggs 150 pounds or 600 dollars
Rome 170,000 lire or 252 dollars!

I see I'd forgotten to give an answer on the books: The two cases planned by you for early sending sound about right. The photoplays, etc. would be fun, but some other time. If that is alright. And please send them carriage forward, if that is possible, or let me know cost of sending.

Delighted to feel you will be here in Spring. May would be perfect. Weather lovely, flowers out, and on the 11th. the annual festa of the patron saint, a wonderful hotpotch of paganism and christianity. I'll meet you Rome, most certainly. Just let me know before, and all will be arranged. Now I'll bother you no more today, and do hope my next letter will not have so many worrisome matters in it.

Much love and many thanks

TESSITRICE DELL'Isola (Island Weaver) (Weaveress)

The weaving scheme is, briefly, this:

An American Company will be incorporated, called something like Capri Handicrafts, Inc. Rene and others can be directors. I would be company manager in Capri, or some such thing. I would arrange with Baroness Gallotti to buy as much of her product monthly as we agreed on and export it from here to States. Our contract with her would simply be to have the specified materials, etc. delivered and bought by us each month and paid for. Beyond that, I think she would not be interested in an American Company. She is quite prepared to buy at any time extra looms and train extra weavers, against a guarantee of purchase. The limit would be small, at most, and need not be reached unless results justify it. Someone in States would be agent at that end, arranging trade-permit, customs, duty and sale. I have a letter, which arrived yesterday from Fred, in which he suggests John Elliot, a friend of his, who has an important wholesale shop on adison Avenue at Fiftieth Street, and supplies special woven stuffs, garments, jewellery etc. to many of the U.S. big and expensive firms... a list is quoted with which I will not bother you now. Elliott would be interested in handling the entire business from the N. Y. end. This would all be run strictly as a business enterprise. Gallotti produces really exquisite designs and colours in a large range of materials, from wool through linen and cotton and silk to some very grande luxe materials interwoven with gold or silver threads, suitable for those who like such things. Sometimes she puts metal threads in a mixture of wool and silk - anyhow, it sounds odd but is always lovely. Then she does lovely thick stuffs for awnings or garden upholstery unlike anything yet produced, that I have seen! (Perhaps you'll find something much more "cinque-cento" in a greenland igloo?) She is quite willing, as I've indicated, to put some money into it provided she sells what she produces to us. I wrote to Fred, not to interest him in the business but to get his advice re a suitable agent in States. The Company would, naturally, in order to be incorporated, have to have an initial working capital, or even nominal capital, but a certain reserve to cover the first year's costs. What these would be, as you'll see, would depend on our success or lack of it; the whole thing is highly tentative, and should be scaled according to results. There are possibilities of quite reasonable profit; but even more important is to have just a company dealing with Capri, in order to justify my remaining here. What the amounts would be I don't yet know. Out of savings, I could put up $5,000 at any time, and get a bank loan on whatever extra would be needed. If say Elliot took over in N. Y. I'd have to wait - having submitted a number of samples to him - for his angle - his costs to import, his overhead and our mutual profit - before I could even begin to determine quantities and qualities. I am arranging an interview with Gallotti, after which I shall have all her facts and figures (Porzio, the lawyer will superintend) and, if you could without too much boring trouble, discuss this with Rene when you are in States, I'd be more than grateful. The main thing is this: I want to be sure I can get a trader visa without having to return to States. That in itself would save at least three thousand dollars. Beyond this at the moment it is more or less impossible to go.

I shall write Rene, naturally, and explain the whole thing to him, and also keep you au courant with latest developments. As I say, I do believe that it might solve very well the problem of my being able to remain here without those infernal visits, and en plus, might quite definitely bring in a few soldi on the side; the export permit from here has no attendant difficulties. In brief, then, the idea is that I should be the European boss of an American concern to import hand-work from Capri. I would not wish to lose my status-quo in States. Nor would I wish to lose my almost unique status here (which cost plenty) of having a "visto di lunga durata" - which means I can live here forever. Tourists are allowed only three months.

Villa Tuoro Capri

22 Jan, 1949

Darling Fido,

Your lovely letter of Jan 19 arrived about half an hour ago,
during lunch. I am - to give, as they always said one should, in that old
analytical room (creaky sofa, creaky old Chadwick, less creaky old Bear (but
don't tell him that) - I am going to give snap reaction to your wonderful Maggs
offer. One, - NO. I was not hinting or cadging, but wanted a scale of
reference. Rappaport, the antique bookseller in Rome, has asked 170,000 lire
for the St. Non, and that is exactly eighty five pounds. The edition is identical
and in excellent condition. Now I feel justified in ordering it. Clearly it
could sell, should one ever need to sell it, in America for half as much again.
Actually, I can pay in dollars (if I like) - and I don't, because they set the
exchange at 500 lire to the dollar, whereas at this moment I get 654; but I can
also have it for, as I've said, 170,000 lire, which is a little over $250.
It's a most superb thing in five large volumes, of a trip to Napoli and the
environs, with quite magnificent copperplate engravings of the local scene.
The Swinburne, Norman says, is better - not the poet but an uncle, I believe,
but very hard to come by, and probably priced beyond anybody's means. N. says
the Maggs price is OUTRAGEOUS, and the Rappaport price "Bloody dear, my dear"
but he has not been in touch with markets for a long, long time, and does not
I think realise that prices are not what they were say in 1930. A little thing
one hesitates to point out! Anyhow, thankyou a thousand times - but my Christmas
and birthday presents have already been over-given by you to me for 10,000 years.
You must not feel, Fido darling, that if I ask your advice, as an old bibliophile,
that I have an ulterior motive. The thing is simply this: I AM collecting
all material I can get on the local scene, and Rappaport in Rome is an excellent
sort of Roman Maggs, and I do like to check prices. The Swiss books, by the way,
were again exactly half the price you quoted. So perhaps, if you have a special
book you want, ask me about it and I'll find out the price at Rappaport.

One thing I'm glad about - that you got your funds out of that sorry hole.
KEEP THEM OUT - les anglais here are fulminating, exploding and generally
in an uproar that every liberty is denied them; trouble is, they take it too
tamely. Faith, for instance, gives the old tired shrug. Says "What can one do?"
Among so many reasons for eternal gratitude, I place rather high up your
insistence on the American scene and security. The poor, grey wraiths that turn
up here for a half-starved week on Capri and weep as they go homeward! Always
I say, There, but for the grace of Fido!......

I am sorry to read you are having trouble with the Automobile Club -
why bother? Let Genoud cope. Please, Fido. You have quite enough to do with
all your affari and friends. Sorry grippe reached you in Suisse. Here it was
qualchecosa - but over now. Two big minosa trees are in full bloom. And
yesterday, a big pale mauve azalea gave forth three full flowers and about fifty
opening buds. This apart from the pink and red ones, which have been in
solid flower for three months. AND the 2 new weeping willows have started to
turn their lovely pale, yellow-green. The first bees, and one mosquito and
one lizard... Spring is here.

My book.... gushing letters: "superbly written" - you know the line, but
not enough narrative interest. I shall not bother you in this, but send you
the story in my next. Yes, Norman Pearson might be very helpful. The thing is
it is, after all, a mere sketchbook, and can easily be amplified where the meaning
to one far away, is obscure. Meanwhile, I'm on another.... a gruesome story
find funny to write, of New York and the war years.... like gigging happily
at a vanished nightmare.

Bless and thank you Fido, and endless love,

Rover

VILLA TUORO
CAPRI

2 December 1950

Darling Fido,

Many thanks for your letter. Life has been quite hurried and for S. Italy, eventful. I don't mean the News, which could hardly be more ghastly, but purely local happenings. Poor Cecil Gray has been laid low with neuritis (stirctly private this) and went to our dear Viennese Dotoressa Moor who had tended his ex-wife, asking for morphia. NO! she barked, remembering that Margery Gray had died of poison (she hinted morphia yesterday) and so Cecil went to another local man and now we're wondering what will happen!!! In between, Cecil's girl, the opera-singer, had got a job with rich Cubans and had gone to Taormina; now she retruns, summoned by C. and wondering what it's all about.

Meanwhile, Jim Barber - (British Council in Napoli)
is returning to England or rather Scotland to take charge of a new
department in Edinburgh, and offered us his house at Anticoli near
Rome (in the hills beyon Tivoli) This is on an old long-lease and
costs 10,000 lire a month or less than $15. It is a lovely place
(I think I have mentioned it?) with gardens full of fountains,
and only an hour by car from Rome. I naturally jumped at it, for
Capri in July and August is now impossible, and so often
one has to go to Rome for one reason or another and the hotel bill for
one night is about 8,000 lire. In between, - if we are left at peace
one can rent it and make all expenses plus a little spending money.
So I had been to Anticoli and to Rome.....I talked at length with
Rappaport whose card I enclose, and he says it is almost impossible
to hope for the Bonifaccio book and that in any case, it would be
a costly affair. Florence didn't even offer to look for a copy.~~
And Franchini (I think that's his name) the Naples man simply
said "Look it up in the Napoli Library". Norman says too, a
very difficult book to hope to find. Sonthis is the best I can do for
the moment - If anybody can help it will be Rappaport, a most
conscientious little man. Meanwhile shall I hold the cheque.....
because if it should turn out to be much more you'd hardly want it.
(The book, I mean). Anyhow, if nothing comes if it, I'll send it back.
If it should be about sixty or sixty-five, shall I go ahead? For
all I know, they may ask $250 or $500!!!

A nice young man came from Perdita and Schaffner....with
messages and news of them. Apparently Perdita under impending
matrimonial preoccupations, blossoms as the rose; and if that is
fulfilment, one can only bless it, for I must say, living as I do
in Italy, the intense yet casual love of children that all Italians have
is a beautiful thing to see; not only have I never seen a case of
ill-treatment or neglect, but there is everywhere a sort of glowing,
casual love for the young, inherent in both sexes, and no doubt there
must be a streak of Italian tendresse in our little one. Not bad,
and all too rare. I only hope the young man keeps her happy. By
the way, the name of the friend was Mervin(?) Barratt. Had been
four years in the navy and laughingly said he was choosing a very wrong
moment to return to States. ...Something goose-flesh making about
the thought of Glenway and Edith appearing together IN Public!!!
Now tea and guests and the end of the sheet....so, all love. Rovell.

VILLA TUORO
CAPRI

29 October 1950

Daling Fido,

re-reading your last letter, it occurs to me that perhaps
- although our letters crossed - I did not after all answer your
point - that U. S. residence does not constitute "residence abroad".
I don't see how it can possibly be construed as British residence,
otherwise they would not have granted me a "dollar account". Now,
if it is important that I was supposed to be resident in Italy at
the time of the absolute decree, I suppose it's all right, if it saves
you so much money, the only thing is that then I shall lose my
dollar account status and with it about four hundred pounds a year
because of exchange - the dollar being at free rate, of which I
naturally make use, about 670 lire and the pound sterling about
1700, so that even at 2. 80 to the pound, I get about 1880 lire
or 170 extra on each pound and as I change about 1,500 pounds
annually it makes something like a difference of 255,000 lire
per annum, a tidy sum. However, as I say, the important thing
obviously is not to lose 10,000 pounds under any circumstances!

I presume the game you saw in States was indeed football
and not that ghastly game they play in long underwear - what is
it? - baseball. I myself have a positively intestinal loathing
of any game played with balls - except those, of course, attached
to the male torso. Compulsory games at school confirmed in a
relentless way what was from the start a dismayed conviction.
The memory of playing-fields of public schools can still produce
a quite wretched shudder!

You never did tell me (re your winter plans to stay if
possible at Kenwin) is Miss Volkart is still working for you
or not? Some considerable time ago you wrote that she had retired
with squeals to Chemin des Plateires, and I did not understand if
it was per sempre or merely pro tem.

Monte Carlo. The Reserve is closed. I had planned to go
there myself and duly arriving found it shuttered andlocked. A
pity. Now, although I have not stayed in either, I am told on
good authority that down at the Condamine (the Port of Monaco)
the Bristol ig good or the Beau Rivage, higher up near the Casino.
These are moderately priced. Excellent and not too expensive is
the Metropole where I stayed. A most comfortable, friendly hotel.
The attached restaurant, the Ambassadeurs, is grande luxe, excellent
and far from cheap.

Thankyou so much for bothering with that old mss. If
you still think, after reading, it would be all right to send it
to your London agent I will gladly do so. Haven't yet read the
Hemingway but it is true I haven't heard anything that is not
scathing. Naturally I'm interested, and it's on order but hasn't
yet come. We've had a solid week of storm - tremendous wind and
much rain. I love it. Such a change from the trance-like days
of summer. Capri wild is enchanting.

The Scilly Isles sound wonderful....I loved that rock - the Peated Camel was it? and the baby seal completely won me. They must be exquisite, and one appreciates that so different, wild, stormy country after the Nepenthe climate and the royal blue air - always guaranteed to be faultless, or almost! Not that I'm weakening - as a stronghold, for me this is perfect, but sometimes a tidal sea, or better, ocean, calls.

I am the proud grandparent of five chincilla kittens (and father of their lovely parents). They were given to me by an old dame who had to go back to California, and they have pedigrees that go back to the Ark and are so noble and hieratic it isn't true. I suggested sending a kitten to Kat, but I don't suppose she would feel like taking one. And you, of course, COULDN'T. One Boxer mouthful. I didn't know when I got the pair that the lady was pregnant. But the kittens are sheer enchantment and every day they change. Today exactly 4 weeks old.

Very interested in your Roman discoveries and the Trenoweth beehive hut. You MIGHT find something Druidic if you look long enough. Another Stonehenge.

Kat said she'd like to see the book I wrote last year - no't the old Capri book, which is now dated - they kept it for months before turning it down - but a long one all about America.....I'm sending her a carbon copy and wonder if I could beg you to cast an eye over it sometime when you have time - a critical eye and later, a candid criticism. As I said to Kat, I worked a full year on it and it was HURLED back in breathless shock, apparently, by Curtis Brown. I frankly don't see why. I've tempered it a little since, but even so, it was never very shocking. Funny rats, the book world!

And now, again, Fido you've been an angel - the rest: senza parole - for one can't talk of these things. Bless you.

VILLA TUORO
CAPRI

2 July 1950

Darling Fido,

I enclose a letter I had from Mr. Perdita. Confidential, of course, and destroy when read. Thought it might be of interest. And yesterday I heard from Caroline - she had, when I was in States, a shabby old bill-fold from Firenze with gold embossed design, so when I was there I sent her a new one and she is aglow. She had also seen Perdita just before V Day, and she wrote "Nell and I saw Perdita off on Friday by air to Maine, and I expect the wedding was yesterday. She called at the office looking very happy and very attractive - I am glad for her!" Her other news was that Margery had an operation for cataract and is having a slow recovery.

Ghoulish news! I'm glad Truman showed a strong hand but hope it doesn't lead to open warfare. What shall you do if it does? I fear that if I remained here Italy would swiftly be taken by the Russians and one would find oneself with luck in a Siberian concentration camp. Pleasant thought. One would have to bolt fast if war was declared. But I think the time is not yet. I am going to try to collect some dollars in cash, to bribe one's way out, if necessary, and I devoutly hope it won't be!

Extraordinary heat-wave. One lurks indoors. Even too hot to go down to the beach and swim, but cool nights. Chester and Ann are here - have been since last Tuesday and nice as they are, they do seem to have been here a long time! Norman is still on Ischia popping his tootsies into radioactive mud.

Many tourists bolting. And, they say, thousands of cancellations but the black market which sent the dollar spurting up is now sinking back to normal.

Puff! Drippingly, I feel I must give up even the little effort of typewriting. I expect a storm must end this nonsense - or perhaps Vesuvio is getting ready for another explosion?

Trust all marches and that Kenwin basks happily in perfect Summer weather.

VILLA TUORO
CAPRI

8 June 1950

Darling Fido,

many thanks for yours of the 1st - arrived only yesterday.
Our eternal feast-days.....

I spoke to N about a French translation of S. Wind. There
is no translation to his knowledge nor has he ever authorized one.
As I too - being a collector of all his works - have sought all his
french editions, I imagine none of this particular book has yet been
made. If Matthey is interested, he might write Norman direct, or
he could write me as I have been appointed N's literary executor
and - during his lifetime - literary adviser. He feels rather
elderly to write many letters or to bother his head with technical
publishers' quibbles, and is only interested in selling outright
as he says, "Royalties are no good to me at 83, my dear boy. May
be dead tomorrow." He said for a french translation he'd take a
lump sum and that would be that.

Incidentally, I have acquired over these last years, a
magnificent collection of Douglas, not only the entire range of first
editions (I was able to get another Old Calabria from Beauchamp)
but special editions, manuscripts, first typescripts and other
privately printed monographs all with gay and sometimes highly
informative inscriptions to me. For instance, of the Limerics,
I have the first notes, the entire manuscript in his handwriting,
with all the corrections (it was rewritten completely) the private
edition on yellow paper, and the subscribers' edition on white paper.
That in itself is worth a small fortune. And one of the pirated
editions, but that doesn't count.

Poor Elsie - what on earth is wrong with her? And as to
your Maria, being Italian and not a birth-control type, you'll be having more babies in Kenwin kitchen! Lucky you with torrential rain! I've
just had to spend 30,000 lire for water for the cisterns. However,
the weather is so exquisite one cannot grumble. Tell me more about
your book on French-Swiss literature. Sounds interesting.

Cecil Gray has astounded everybody by announcing a
big party (this evening) to which all Capri is going. I think his
recent visit to London must have resulted in some successful soot,
for he has long been famed for shall we say his Scottish character?
He has even added as an inducement to Norman, Scotch whiskey which
costs 5,000 lire a bottle. Tiens!

Happy summer, and all love,

VILLA TUORO
CAPRI

4 June 1950

Darling Fido,

many days, I'm afraid, since I wrote. The thing is one
just cannot stay indoors, the weather is too perfect, the flowers
too beautiful and exacting, for there is so much to do in the
garden; and then we have more people here than we've had since
I've been back since the war and entertaining and being entertained
is a pretty exacting job too. One of the visitors is René's
niece - a girl as charming as she is beautiful. We see quite a
lot of her - and her girl-friend, who is delightful too and very
gay.

The trip was enchanting. I've never seen Italy look so
beautiful or so green - all the hills covered with the milky sheen
of young wheat with the young vines, a bright green making a kind of
stitching through them. And wave after wave of wild-flowers.
It was getting hot in Florence, and although I love it dearly, I
was glad to return to our cool crag. Spent a very pleasant night at
Viterbo, which was badly banged about but now well-repaired.
Florence, by the way, is being rebuilt at last. They compromised on
an architectural style which, while not copying the previous facades,
has the quattrocento style and is not at all bad. One was afraid,
with a communist regime, they'd have stuck up a sort of concrete
horror like the station. No Ponte Trinità yet - and contributions
to rebuild it amount to more than the national debt!

You were an angel to offer a loan - but I've asked René to
ask the bank to hurry up with the June income - or at any rate,
part of it. Normally it comes at the end of the month. Arrived
home to find a re-assessment on the value of the Tuoro and a
tax for 455,000 lire (about $800). They'll have to wait. I cussed,
needless to say.

Did you hear that Kurt Weill died? I don't know what of,
but have written Lenya.

Norman is leaving shortly for Ischia where he wants to
have a series of radio-active mud baths for his tootsies which
he complains are "mumb". I suppose he'll be away for two or
three weeks. I presume you are in Kenwin for the summer. When
will you toddle to States? I had a long letter from Perdita
brimming over with bliss; apparently they've found a house in
Sutton Place - she does not give the number. I heard René is
in England for some anniversary of Frere Cholmondley. Nice to
be able to charge a trip to Europe as "office expenses"!

Now I'm going off to take a row on my floating park bench
and a swim. A hot day. Capri always seems and is, about twice
as bright as anywhere else. My love to Kat. No Lugarno this year?

VILLA TUORO
CAPRI

2

but that if they come to Capri they will have no expenses and a certain
amount of regaling.

Thankyou so much for offering help with Pop, but you have your hands quite full enough as it is. Better later - end of June comes my second income from which no American trip will tear a fat slice, and I have suggested late September. Should I change my S. African investments - I mean those in my Coutts trust? Dear me, life is complicated. And thanks to this damned Holy Year, the dollars have flooded the market and we have virtually no soot and that adds almost a third to daily costs. However, - niente da fare! I am going to try to accrue some soldi for the winter - when nobody is here, then the exchange soars and I shall buy lire instantly.

Meanwhile, coute-qui-coute, I'm going to take this little Spring jaunt. As a matter of fact, so cheap is the car to run, one finds that travel is very little more expensive than living at home, especially when one considers that the expenses of entertaining and running the household are nil.

I hope you do organise the exhibition of books written along Lake Geneva - must be quite a list. Perhaps I shall run into Osbert in Florence? I shall certainly see Harold Acton, and they are good friends.

O, yes: two more things - blocks and pictures:

Blocks. IF I cannot find a home for them by June (are the cases very big?) perhaps they'd better be stored until they can be used in some way - a pity to let them go. As to Gaunt Island, why not have it pulped? MUCH the best fate for it! I certainly don't want it distributed.

Paintings:

| Artist | Title | Paid | Present value<br>in States |
|---|---|---|---|
| Klee | The Fatal Hour | $1700 | $2,500 (checked ) |
| Miro | The Flight of<br>the Bird Over<br>The Plain | $2,000 | perhaps a little<br>more, but not<br>much " |
| Ernst | Swamp Angel | $2,000 | $3,000 (N.Y.<br>valuation) |
| | Comédie de la<br>Soif | 750 | $1,000 |

These are the only ones for sale. I would hardly recommend them
as an investment with the possible exception of Klee who mounts steadily.
Ernst may have reached peak and Miro - because this is an exceptionally
fine one - may go up some more.

VILLA TUORO
CAPRI

24 April 1950

Darling Fido,

the enclosed from Colby - very sweet of him; speaks for itself. I was wrong about the "Boston" background; I find the condescension enchanting! Colby sums it up very well - his "ugh" is not directed against Perdita but against all ladies. Don't return - I've already replied.

My own feelings are a carefully-considered "pro". A personable creature, handsome and apparently devoted. That, surely, is what matters, and Perdita apparently, God knows why, is impassioned to have Little Ones; I think I told you I had written to say I look forward (God knows I don't!) to dandling her tots on my palzied old knee. I trust you have some suitable shawls and little lace caps. And mittens, of course, on your once dainty little hands, now gnarled with neuritis deformans. This terrible tick-tock, tick-tock!

Beyond this old cud-chewing letter of Colby's, no news whatsoever, except that NO mail comes from the U.S. Never mind, it gives me more time.

Am I wrong or intolerant or something, or is Life and Letters now about the Nadir of publications? This last issue...... Editorially, at any rate, Herring seems to me to have gone from a rather bright Upper Fifth to a very dim Lower Fourth. He should study the New Yorker, or, better still, put a professional in charge. Alas, for once, I could not love Kat's poem. Was it not Shaw who described Morris as a "Jack of All Trades and Master of None?"

Recently I have greatly enjoyed L. P. Wilkinson's "Letters of Cicero" - a borrowed book, alas, or I'd send it. Done, if I'm not mistaken, by Geoffrey Bles. Excellent idiom that makes the letters, fascinating in themselves, alive, as if just received in the mail.

On May 7 I start northward, zigzagging with main stops Florence and Venice; arrive Venice May 15, leave May 20. If Kat still entertains the idea of coming, it would be heaven to see her, even a glimpse. I shall stay again at the Grand, not because I'm a snob but because it is owned by my neighbour who sold me this villa, and I get a palatial room for next to nothing. Do warn Kat that the Daniels is now foul - hot-dog and ice-cream stands outside, and the entire waterfront a miniature imitation of the Liverpool Docks. There is a dear little hotel called the Manin Pilsen (address: S. Marco - Bacino Orseolo) Swiss-owned, immaculate and with first-rate restaurant attached and a sweet minescale lagoon outside which is a gondola park. Rates quoted (Pop was coming but I can't afford him till after the end of June when money comes in, because of the American trip) are:

Full pension (room with private bath, breakfast lunch and dinner) 4,400 (the dollar is about 640)

Half-pension, same conditions, 3, 200. All taxes and service

VILLA TUORO
CAPRI

6 April 1950

Daring Fido,

Triumph!

A horrid Roman woman started building right next to my
property and while I was away (just got back yesterday) up went
a dreadful wall which would have shaded and therefore killed all the
plants on my private viale, so I hied me down to the commissario
and raised Cain, and got my lawyer over from Napoli, and already
they're demolishing it - there was a conferenza of architects
and lawyers and it was exactly like an opera bouffe - such
histrionics, declamations, gestures, drama. The commissioner of
monumenti nationale came and swore, and then they all came in
and we popped some Italian champagne and good humour and laughter
were restored like magic; meanwhile the masons are delighted -
they will now have an extra week's work pulling down the horrible
pile. We are moreover sueing for damages since they used my
viale and cracked some cement and bricks and also stuck scaffolding
right into my lovely great bushes of lavender. So the tail
is much wagging this bright and sunny day.

Went with Norman and friend in the little car for another
of those heavenly rambles over the Sorrentine Peninsula and down
to heavenly Paestum. What a magical land and in the toils of Spring,
and colour you seem to dive into-you feel totally immersed. Violets
everywhere and hellebore and wistaria flooding over everything.
We stayed a couple of nights at the Cappuccini at Amalfi, where
the manager told us Osbert and Horner had been there last November.

Now comes your letter - wow! Pup is engaged, is she!
Schaffner, I remember, as a charming, well-bred and very handsome
young man - I thought rather addicted to his own sex, but no matter -
Perdita must know about that. He is a friend of Colby Walworth
who only knows the BEST people, but rigidly! I should say a good
person in important ways. In any case, let her have a whack at it -
can always be unravelled if it doesn't work - but better for Perdita,
I think, to have that anchor, she's drifted too much, and again, is not
(are any of us?) as young as she was. Yes, weighing pros and cons,
I'm con - she could have done so much worse, and he certainly is
a charming and well-bred person and NOT a sponger. I must write -
or should I wait to hear from her? Yes, I remember, Colby was
rather impressed with his background, which probably means he's
Social Register.

This most wonderful island! How I wish you could just pop
in and peep. The garden is quite an intoxication, I can't keep out
of it - it is in fact, almost obscene!

By the way, did Perdita say when the event is to take place?

There is a nasty cetonia beetle here, rather like the
japanese beetle, and they love paeonies, so they have to be picked
in bud to protect them. They wont touch red roses which are out,
and the pale ones will have to be covered at night with muslin bags.
They last about 3 weeks and eat only in the early morning. Nothing
to do but go round and knock them into cans of kerosine.

VILLA TUORO
CAPRI

20 March 1950

Darling Fido,

do excuse me - In looking over recent letters from you I see that you asked on 27 Feb. about Jimmie in relation to my leaving New York. All is well and everything dulcet. He is happily "married" to a melting young beauty, and on all sides nothing but purling cordiality streams. He is getting along fairly well - has a job, and expects a better one at any moment. As to Barthé, no, I didn't see him - wasn't in time or in fact, any special reason. My flat is let for six months to Fred Stett's ami John, and then Eileen will remove to her new house on Long Island where there are spare rooms. Some of the pictures I have here, others remain, two or three have been sold - and regarding the remaining ones, I shall let someone like Juilen Levy sell them for me if and when the paying client appears. Some of my furniture came over here last year - the best pieces. The rest will be at Eileen's in case destiny ever drives me back to that teeming strand.

No relationships - that is to say no personal matters have changed - same friends, etc. all on the same footing - except O'Leary and I did drop him, he was rather a bore. But that would hardly affect you in any way.

So that brings us up to date, I think, on the State of the Nation, as it were.

O, but what Spring weather this is! How penetratingly seductive and scented, all bathed in blue calm like holding a star-sapphire up to the eyes.

I MAY peep at Sicily in April. And I MAY peep at Venice in May (May it was when first you took me there!) and then meander southwards peeping at little hill-towns and off-the-road spots....I want to absorb as much as I can, for no longer can one say "it won't run away"....who knows? They have been seeing flying saucers over Italy....I wish one would land and deliver bands and processions of dear little things from infinity - wouldn't it be nice if, as some madman reported, they were fourteen inches high? I haven't seen a saucer - only falling stars. Norman glooming about his health which is really very good, but no doubt this warm Spring sun will reach those well-pickled arteries.

My love to Kat and to you,

VILLA TUORO
CAPRI

16 March 1950

Darling Fido,

very happy to get yours of the 10th....I envy you the prize daffodils - my own are rather ordinary, being last years' bulbs, but are now out in great swathes of yellow and look alright. I don't know if there is a law against getting bulbs from England, but if not presumably I could ask Doris to send me some in the autumn? Ludlow - I have noted the name. Halcyon weather - so blue is the light and the air that you expect to be dyed!

Glad you're radio-minded. Good. I too have a radio - one big one with gramophone, the other a small portable for batteries or to plug-in, which I got in the U.S. and smuggled in (the duty here is about 200 per cent.) Yes, I suppose the wretched sterling will dribble further - alas! But if it does, the lira may too - at present with typical Italian arrogance, it's pretending to be a hard currency and instead of getting 2200 for the pound you get 1600 - a bore. Anyhow, I shall as you suggest, watch the pennies and pinch when necessary. No expenses very great that I can think of house and garden are fully equipped and the little car, now switched to the station-wagon (same chassis) and paid for. The wines are in Naples, Porzio the lawyer, is seeking the requisite man to bribe, then there'll be nothing else in the way of heavy payments.

I do hope with you that Labour will be routed and no
steel nationalization with its horrid consequences further reduces
that bankrupt land. One thing that may be good for me - IF it
works. I told Rene all about the money I have to pay for the widow
of Emilio - $125 a month. He is going to claim that this is
deductible as I am sic! an author, and my secretary was killed
on a mission for me. That would he estimates cut my tax by about
$700 a year - which would help fill the gap. But they may pooh-pooh
the idea. Bloody awful, isn't it - I have to pay it to her for life
- her life, and she's younger than I am. Perhaps a nice hired bandit?

David Jeffreys was the consul in Suisse - now back and better but still gets spells of being unable to breathe. A nightmare business, he's told me about it. They were trapped under 30 feet of water and standing up to avoid the rising water in the car for over 3 minutes, unable to open door or window because of the pressure, and the headlights of the car stayed on - actually for a half hour. David was all but drowned - lungs quite filled with water. Very shattered, poor boy, and frightened of life. He has asked for a transfer, which will be sad for us, but better for him. Was here for three days on arrival but wanted to face his apartment at Posilipo and his hysterical old cook who came in floods of tears here before his arrival to implore us to make him stay.

Are you by any chance contemplating joining the band of amateur broadcasters? If you do, I'll have to get one, and we can chat our news! Don't care for Gaggin - too wallpapery - those jungles! But an interesting man. Best thing in NY was a Rembrandt show and the other (several flights down) Paul Klee. Fickle thing that I am, I have been hit hard again by the Italians - Signorelli and Carpaccio - what giants!

VILLA TUORO
CAPRI

2 March 1950

Darling Fido,

Ah, the joy of it! Back to Parthenope and her feathered divas! Thankyou so much for the enchanting letter of welcome. Everything was perfect. The last part of the trip, in spite of impatience, was fun. Gibralter in the evening, and the mysterious sunset hills of Spain looking very enticing, and on the other hand the sweep of the Atlas mountains beckoning one to Marakesh (how the hell IS it spelt?) and all along the northern coast of Africa, very warm, and, instead of bleak oceanic waters, little Mediterranean ships plying back and forth, seagulls constantly as a welcoming-committee, Algiers in the twilight looking most glamorous, and the little crags and islets all the way to Palermo, where we arrived at 2 a.m. - such a contrast to departure, when everyone was rent with Sicilian sobs and sodden handkerchiefs bravely applied to eyes and air...this time wild cries, names yelled over and over again, bottles of wine and vermouth hauled up in baskets, jubilation everywhere. Napoli the next afternoon at 4.30...and torture in the customs-shed till 8.15. It is true I had bought up almost all Hammacher Schlemmer - toasters, a Wareing Blender, an outdoor broiler, electric fixtures, batteries, - such a list - but nothing mattered; there was the old port, there the old city; across the bay, the old Crag - it was Home! On Sunday to Capri on the wildest sea I've ever been on. Almost literally the passengers were lashed to the mast - the lower decks not only were awash but pouring like the fountains of the Villa D'Este. I was impressed by the tomato content of the food spilt to the dolphins and gulls. Now home to a garden which has (forgive my endless catalogues, but it IS impressive even for Capri) - blooming March 1st: Camellia, crocus, cacti, carnations, tulips, wallflowers, periwinkle, all types geranium, red-hot-poker, anemones, stock, hyacinths, californian bluebell, japanese pinks, ramunculus, arugula lilies, jasmin, bougainvillea, magnolia, roses, hibiscus, mimosa, genistra, violets, azaleas, salvia, almond, datura, heliotrope, gloxinia, cyclamen, freezia, iris, daffodil, narcissus - and a lot more, many unknown to me...The elections! (to change abruptly) - what a mess! If the Conservatives are very astute it may be a good thing, but a house divided at this time - that worries me a little. Did you know that the flying saucer is no myth but is tabulated, radar-ized, studied and set on paper; that all over the States hundreds of "Martello-Towers" are being built to study them, that they are clearly not terrestrial, and that we are under intense observation from another or other planets? This from the hardest-boiled sources in the U.S. I do hope they're pretty creatures, even if they have ten legs!

Our dear David (consul at Napoli) is in the Val Mont at Territet because, arriving at the port at Napoli one foggy night, his car skidded over a tract of spilt oil and plunged over the mole into 40 feet of filthy harbour water; a closed car, but he got out with someone else. A third member of the party was drowned. He dived in vain and now has a lung that wont work and a heart that only just does. Awaiting news, I hope all is well; I thought perhaps if not too much trouble it would greatly relieve our anxiety (but wait till I write or wire) if you could be so infinitely kind as to call up and find out how he really is.

So messy that these things seem to happen to people one so likes!

VILLA TUORO
CAPRI

half-seas-over.....

Darling Fido,

Just a note from the homing pigeon....it
was a rush, to such a degree was it a rush that I still spend
2/3rds of my time snoring. Now everything's settled. I'm
a European! This morning under a big plume of sirocco cloud
we steamed past the Azores - they look rather sweet, and what
a strange position, way out there in the ocean! Saw Perdite
but only a little - no time, and naturally everybody
clamouring. Saw some plays and opera NOTHING wholly firstrate.
Saw Philip at Renes for a brief half-hour, said he'd been
at Montegufone. Sorry to have missed you yet again, but
the day will come - and just as well for your own happiness
to be out of that strangely whipped-up city....no wonder they
all get tummy ulcers. NOTHING but hydrogen bombs now. And
water-shortage. Every headline, every radio. We've been

delayed by storms (they say! the sea seems to have been
charmingly calm to me) and will not arrive in Napoli before
Sat 25th....today is 20th. This'll go from Gib - don't
know if it will reach you sooner or not.

I hear there was a big electric storm on Capri, and
all lights and telephones went and some damage to houses and
trees. Not outs, happily. The neighbour's house above was
damaged, I don't think badly.

This is just a speak from mid-ocean....will write you
when welcome terra-firma is again under the old piedi!

many barks and much love,

Many many thanks too for the cheque
I'm still waiting for the final report from Rome
before returning the $50 for the book. And
many thanks too for the little diary. <u>Invaluable</u>
Am reading with rapturous fascination the
magnificent biography of Florence Nightingale by
an old dame (Lesbian, of course) called
Cecil Woodham Smith (published Sept. this year)
It is hair-raising and a consummately
masterful job. Have you read it? Then Eileen
Bigland, that old drunk, has done a good one on
Ouida, but it's more usual - the usual female
cattiness. Woodham Smith is exquisitely impartial
and has positive majesty. A great book.

You will receive shortly (sorry for the
delay) a little New Year Gift, which I hope you
will enjoy and which I hope doesn't duplicate
anything you may have of the kind.

We had a month of almost solid rain.
Oldest Caprese mean there has never been anything
like it, and some old walls collapsed under the
weight of phenomenally sodden earth. Just before
Christmas, went to Anticoli for Rome shopping,
and stayed there amid exquisite Christmas-card
snow with roaring log fires; it was heaven.
I DO hope so for peace, for I am sure that you
and Cat would adore Anticoli (only one hour from
Rome, and completely private. I would lend it
to you AT ANY TIME. The gardens are heaven and
to my delight after dry Capri, have five fountain
and a water-lily thing with shoals of goldfish.
And some giant lead pencil cypresses. Rome
before Christmas, was heaven. Gold, gold, gold.
And the pilgrims in St. Peter's, thousands of
them in little bands, kneeling everywhere, and
the pope a most spiritual spectre in blinding ray
that positively dematerialized him.

No. just in, sends all love and says "don't
forget to thank Bryher for her charming letter."
Ecco! è fatto!

June 20, 1950

Dear Kenneth,

Now, just four days before our marriage, I begin to think
more about Perdita's family and all those who care about
her. It was a pleasure--and I may say a relief, too--to
have your letter of blessing after our engagement was announced
It may surprise you, but your opinion is quite important to
Perdita, and therefore to me. And since you were the one
member of her world who did know me, it was a special relief
to us both that you approved.

Now that I think back I don't quite understand myself why
we took a Montague-Capulet attitude, but I think we both did,
for our various reasons. If you remember me as I do you, I
feel sure you can think of many reasons why I shouldn't make
the ideal husband. That you chose not to remember these reasons,
and thought only of the pleasanter obvious ones, pleased us
both.

Of course, I don't expect to change much. Perdita doesn't
expect me to, either. But we have discovered through these
two years together that we do have things--quite important
things--for each other. I truly do think I'm good for her.
I know I make her happy--that, at least, is obvious, for she
fairly glows and is in many superficial ways, at least, a
changed girl--and I think I can go on doing so. I intend to,
at least. And I know she's good for me in many ways, too.
So our plans seem quite right and happy ones. And now that
the day is practically upon us neither of us seems to have
any qualms or regrets.

I'm sure Perdita keeps you informed of all that we are up
to, so I won't go into detail. As you probably know,
we fly to Maine Friday and will be married Saturday. For two
weeks we'll vagabond about New England, and then back to New
York and our Serious Life again. I wish we could fly to Capri
for those two weeks. But Capri will keep and your offer of
a holiday there will, I hope, keep too. It would be wonderful.
And it's something I'll look forward to.

Just now I only wanted to say, "Thanks for your blessing
and good wishes." If this reaches you in time to serve you
as a reminder, do think of us on Saturday afternoon. We wish
you could be there (loathe it as you probably would!).

512 Beacon Street
Boston 15, Massachusetts

country. For that's where the heart lies these days,
in spite of the trips involving fete days here. And
the rare excursions to Manhattan, as in March when
I pushed Madame out of flat (she stayed with that
dreadful nee Randolph girl & mari) and went merrily
on tiles for a couple of weeks. Capri must be
heavenly now (it was almost this date, wasn't it,
when we first arrived?) I envy you, and am so
happy for you! (Lucky I am content I should be the
brightest, most repulsive green) or

After the above effort, length without solid
depth that it is, I should v. much appreciate, to
Salisbury, Conn., a line or two of yr reaction to
my reactions. To repeat: I hope writing you all this
doesn't seem over-zealous. Gentle Jesus knows the
problems of other people's matrimonies are to
someone like me so boring they're almost distasteful!

Fond, fond regard to N, to Islay, and kisses
to all those other inhabitants of the Isola Bella I
was lucky enough to know once.

Capri

15 July 1950

Darling Fido,

I apologise for the stationery, rather like loo paper,
but the other is in a drawer in a locked cabinet and it's
just simply too darned hot to make the effort. We have been
regaled today with a wet blanket of scirocco and all is
damp and limp. I'd have replied sooner, but have spent the
past few days destroying everything compromising - all reference
to lawyers, banks, etc and personal matters that might involve
one - rather like an Embassy at zero-hour. Rather a relief
in a way, at least all is tidy and again there is lots of
space. Amazing what one can accumulate in three years! I
await $2,000 in $10 and $20 bills to be placed in the bank
strong-room here in case I need to pull out in a hurry. IF
(and I think there is a big IF about it) trouble does come
to a head, I shall probably try to fly to Dakar, and thence
see what can be done. IF I'm caught, I shall go up into
the mountains with the Resistance - resisting, if I know
myself - anything that makes life too uncomfortable.
Best books will go in cases to Italian friends, and other
small treasures. Porzio (my lawyer) has the title deed and
other papers proving my ownership. Unsettling, all this, but
better to be prepared. Trouble will be old Norman - well,
one will do all one can. Better perhaps, horrible as it is,
that he should go back again to England - too old to take
the beating of uncomfortable scrambles God knows where. How
one hates one's long-awaited middle-age pestered like this -
having gone through two big useless and imbecile wars! However,
our Little One should be all right - and Maine surely would be
spared the Hydrogen bomb? I don't think, in marriage, it is
a question of what you call "temperament". Normio males, I
am sure, behave atrociously, and so, to be sure, do normio
females - you should see them here! All women - except
perhaps Lesbians - think with their cunts. I think P. is quite
aware that Sch. receives, as Colby put it, gentlemen callers -
she to be sure was rather busy at the same game! Mainly, don't
you think, it depends on their companionship, shared interests,
mutual consideration, and forever courtesy. The rude
proprietorship of many married couples, the awful assumption of
ownership - surely is the lethal stupidity? I think Pup's
intelligent and I think he is too - anyway, as you saylet
them work it out. Nothing in all the world guarantees
happiness, and only lonliness guarantees its opposite.
What a good solution to the blocks! It would be fine if Yale
had them! Let me know what to do.

I expect to stay here till September - if Pal Joey permits
I would have loved to see you in London but think IF I go,
it would suit in every way better in winter, as I'm rather
committed here - arrivals and departures, etc. Is the blue
for the staircase actually for the railing? Why not have the
paint removed and the natural wood waxed and perhaps bleached?

2

I had that done in one place in New York and it not only looked very well but was enduring and successive coats of light wax gave it a beautiful satin patine. Presumably there is still the green marbleized rubber on the treads? Or if you prefer paint, don't you think a greyish blue would be good? Something like this:

and not too shiny?

Do I understand that Elsie is leaving your employ? For good? Better, indeed, have someone younger and stronger if she is to be a malade chronique; but I imagine you're having your trials!

I've never seen the Intelligence Digest - sounds interesting. I'd greatly appreciate a copy if you could spare one. Here one relies on radio and stale news.

A nice letter from Kat, who seems quite happy in Lausanne, and spoke of visiting Kenwin and how beautiful the garden and view are.

Another heatwave promised - I hope it won't all be scirocco!

I hope you have a wonderful holiday in the Scillies and catch plenty of fish. Remember our bouillabaise from our fishing expedition at Antibes? Have noted your address.

Capri 9 May 1951

Fido darling,

I was delighted to get your letter and far more delighted to
know you are safely back on your own terra firma - even if you
do make your air flights glamorous with ex First Ladies! Did
you talk to her, or rather, I believe one should say, did you
listen to her? I met her once long ago in New York at a tea
given by some society or other for the rehabilitation of
delinquents (juvenile) and she seemed to me to teem with
professional affability and charm. And talked like an automaton.
She is a great friend of Esther Arthur, whom you remember in N. Y.
and who is due to arrive today, I understand, with Sybille Bedford
- anyhow Sybille wired me to get a double room.

I was hoping to get north and even perhaps pop over the
border to say a long-delayed hallo, but now I think it better
if I come in the autumn; I can kill more birds that way,
especially the bulb bird on Lago Maggiore. It is most kind of
you to have brought all that plunder from New York, and if you
can find nobody to bring it to Italy, I may find someone coming
from Switzerland; Arthur Johnson, our delightful neighbour
from Anacapri, often goes there to see his son who is at school
near Geneva (I have mentioned him before; he was the Sitwell
lawyer) and I could ask him to pick them up or one of his minions
(he seems to have some affairs that produce wonderful side-
results in streams of cigars and tobacco for Norman, etc.)

I hear you have been having cold, miserable weather; I trust
that has now changed. Here, after a supernaturally foul winter,
Spring is supernaturally lovely. Never has everything burst
into such fantastic bloom, and the roses are the size of dinner
plates, and the jasmin so dense with flowers that you cannot see
any green; all the rain, I suppose. No chance of luring you
over the border I suppose?

Willie and Viva King have just been here and tell me that
Osbert has Parkinson's disease. I am so sorry; I hope it can be
kept at bay although I believe there is no cure.

Poor Cat, I can imagine the whole experience was a little
shaking for her; presumably she will soon be off to Lugarno -
what a pity I can't come up; I may try, but mustn't do it twice,
especially as I want terribly to go to the Palio this year -
Chigi Saraceni, who is the majordomo in charge and has a lovely
palazzo on the square has asked me to come and see it from his
windows; a fine opportunity....one could do it easily from
Anticoli. Why don't you come down for it? If I do that
as well as Anticoli, it will have been enough; and I shall have to
be here to tend the miraculous garden!

Chester P. and his niece are coming at the end of May for a
couple of weeks. I wonder when Perdita and John will turn up
in Italy? I suppose in mid-summer....I hope before July, as I
was planning to be in Anticoli for July and August; it gets
so crowded and noisy here, but I suppose I shall have to tear
myself away from the mountain peace for the seaside melée at
least while they are on Capri. I'd invite them to Anticoli
but think they'd be bored to death, except to see the countryside
which is incredibly lovely and totally untourist. We'll see!

VILLA TUORO
CAPRI

7 April 1951

Darling Fido,

I am not at all sure that I envy you, and not wholly sure
that I don't... I would rather like to just glimpse Manhattan for
2 weeks, IF I had a return air-ticket strung to my person; on the
other hand, Italy has slipped from a monstrous winter into a
phenomenal Spring. Seduction drips from every tree and the shimmering
air, and indeed, the air is almost sick with perfume. Then there is,
of course, the Light. Our overdose of ultraviolet. It is really
working overtime these days and nothing could be more magnificent and
as Cat would have said of-old, "healing" (and I suppose there always
is some corner in need of it?) but knowing you are in N. Y. makes me
recall so many things there and I think it would be lovely if like
gulls, we could simply climb the air spirals and then drift motionless
like an arrow to some distant point, returning, if in the mood, the same
day. The gulls do that here off the Faraglioni, up like a corkscrew
till almost out of sight, then off like shot to Napoli Salerno or Paestum.

I shall look forward to your report on N. Y. and the menage of
our soi-disant grandchild. I had a letter from René written on the day
he expected you in N. Y. Very excited because he has bought a house
in Connecticut.

I expect you will be deafened by war-cries over there; it
seems to me the whole country is going around yahooing like a gathering
of Mohicans; while io inclemencio di non credere in any war at all.
Bloody awful taxes they've slapped on us, which, no doubt accounts
for the deafening rolling of drums. Do look at your accounts carefully
with Myles W. and K. for they blithely overcharged me $675 on 1950
taxation; fortunately I had all their statements and saw it at once.
They are dears but very, very casual. All of them, I think; which
reminds me that I never did tell you that Cecil Gray, who knows Philip
Frere, went to his house last year and saw the famous Bible, which lay
on a desk unwrapped and Philip showed it to him, leaning over it with a
lighted pipe which dropped smouldering tobacco on the page. Meant to
tell you years ago but forgot all about it till now. It could not be, could
it, the one so recently written up in the New Yorker as bought by
Scribners?

I do hope we shall meet this Spring; IF I get North, which I
hope to do, there's nothing I'd like so much as to see you again; always
this damned old tick-tock tick-tock! And Cat too. She really must
go to Lugano; perhaps if I crossed the border you might both be
tempted to Venice or Florence; anyhow I shall try!

I have appended a list (rectified) of things that would be
god-sent from N. Y. Don't be perturbed; most of it can be done
through Pup who can simply telephone our mutual doctor (Prutting)
and he takes care of the rest. The reason I ask this is that letters
either go astray or requested medicines do, and I would like a check that
at least he gets the order. The customs men are so trying....why, one
wonders is the petty official universally not only an affront to the
not very noble name of Man but so diligent in defence of his reputation?

Faith leaves, I think, tomorrow. She doesn't want to. Going
back to Bagni di Lucca, silly old thing!

VILLA TUORO
CAPRI

12 March 1951

Darling Fido,

trying to get myself together as this afternoon we get the
boat for Napoli and go tomorrow to Anticoli. Cerio has let me have
some lovely old furniture from the lately dead Mabel Cerio's house
, with a kindly gesture said "You are doing me a service in taking
it away" and added that he has made it a lifelong rule never to
accept money for "any of my little idiosyncracies". Anyhow, bless
him, it is a charming windfall; mostly 18th century Sicilian,
more robust than the French but with exquisite inlay and patine.
So that goes to Anticoli, as here it is much less formal and more
modern. And at last, a perfect day. How one has waited through
the wildest and messiest weather! The worst storm in recollection.
Smashed up Gracie Field's place thoroughly; the waves swept the
swimming pool right into the sea and all her cisterns are full
of sea water. This sort of thing has been happening since
October.

Thankyou very much for the $30. That will about half pay for the
transport of the furniture to Anticoli.

Have made a note of Buccaline and will try to get someat
Robert's in Rome.

Razor blades. They are in tiny cartridges for the
SCHICK INJECTOR razor. Remember this say Injector, as they have
another kind. If you would be an angel and get a box of twelve
cartridges (it will take up no room at all) I will be more than
grateful for more than a year (they will last that long). The
valve (remember to call it a tube in N. Y.) is:

That too is tiny - about twice as big as a thimble, literally.

What I could do and would love to, is to pick them up in
Switzerland, as am invited to MacEacharn's place on Maggiore in
May and could just hop through the ST. Gothard Tunnel. That is,
IF you are back, of course.

Faith Mackenzie arrived late this week. That will be nice.
I return here Saturday.

Now I must rush to launch and then the boat.

Much love - will write in a few days.

VILLA TUORO
CAPRI

25 Feb 1951

Darling Fido,

Alas, grippe kept me from activity for some days...
I got it at beautiful but draughty Anticoli, and as that is more remote
than Lhasa, I covered up in the middle of it and came back to
heated dry rooms, fires and respectable doctor. Really, I don't
know how your weather is, but Italy this winter has been - well,
one might have been living on the north-east coast of Shetland.
Either one is battered by blasting gales or drowned by scudding
rain, and the temperature hovers at a damp chill ten degrees;
Italy has never seen or known such weather. Your delightful long
letter came, and of course came too the telegrams - one from N. Y.
one from you. Thankyou. How happy they will be - at any rate for a while.
I suppose Perdita is equipped to deal with Little Ones but all
my limited experience tells me they are a nightmare. Especially, as
you say, to have them in this day and age. Presumably I am too
old too, as well as too cynical, and indeed tired, to act, again as
you say "the sentimental grandmother" (in my case soi-disant grandpa).
One cannot, however, I feel, or should not try to, dampen the
joy some people have in it all - whether it is in having tots or
dogs or rare bulbs or books or paintings. I am softened somewhat
in my attitude to having children, an attitude which used to be
rather tart and taut and dismissive - by the haphazard Italian way -
people here love children simply - women and men alike - and children
of even the poorest are wonderfully free and happy and wise. But that
is because it is all part of an ancient pattern, a thing of warmly-
endowed nature, of a climate normally sunny, of some harmony in
the way of life which in more mechanical countries has given way to
neurosis and the peptic ulcer.

Thankyou for your interesting and sympathetic observations
on the mss., which arrived safe but battered. Personally, I now
think that the only part of it I like is that which deals with the
fat man Arthur, and his death, his mother and funeral. It is all
too factual, as a matter of fact, to have been given a fictional
form, and had better stay at the bottom of a drawer....thankyou
so much for trying to place it.

About the book for Hotson - va bene. You can, if you like,
send me a cheque for roughly twenty-seven dollars, or, better
still, present it on my behalf to some favourite cause - a
needy family, a war-victim foundation. As to Rappaport - when you
come down I'll have to buy you the entire shop! A tall order!

Very interesting your tip about watching the Greeks. We have
several friends stationed there and I shall keep in touch with them.

The garden was sprayed two days ago with a winter insecticide
against cochineal, and it is bright yellow, and the white cats in
their lovely long winter coats went walking under the dripping leaves
and are dyed like canaries! It won't come off!

When you go to N.Y. I am going to be an infernal nuisance
and ask you to get me one or two tiny things I cannot get here -
such as my type of razor blade - but TINY. This is fair warning
in case you want to wriggle out of it! Another thing would be a
minuscule value for a tiny portable radio. It need not be too
great a nuisance as they can be ordered from a drugstore by phone
and delivered to the hotel.
Much love, Rover

VILLA TUORO
CAPRI

2 Feb 1951

Darling Fido,

Many thanks for your letter of Jan 31. I am so happy
at last to have been of some trifling service (and I enclose a
note that came today also from the Roman bookseller, because he is
an excellent, if not the best, man in Italy today for antique books,
and you might add his name and address to your files for rare books
not only on Italy but elsewhere. If you like, I will give him your
name, as he issues a monthly printed catalogue. I found, incidentally,
your books on Swiss passes into Italy at his place.

As to Hucks, I must say I find his letter insufferable. Oily and badly written, and I remember with horror the fat, ginger-headed cow he married. If I were you, and you feel you want to answer his letter, I would just wish him bon voyage. No earthly reason to bother poor Rene with him.....and incidentally, I hear that Nell has just given birth to another daughter. Mamma mia! All these yesterday's children now popping forth!

I believe you may be very wise to go States in April.
Here, via Trieste, they feel there will be almost certainly a Spring
putsch; Tito (naturally overstressing in hope of much more dollari)
has given figures of the troops, armaments, supplies, stockpiles, etc.
now shifted into place in Hungary, Czechoslovakia, etc. America, of
course, is in a wild caterwaul of punch-happy war-hysteria. No wonder
with that monstrous, ill-governed little habadasher in charge! All
in all, one feels the future is BLACK. The dollar has leapt up to
750 lire, which means simply that thousands of Italians or residents
in Italy want dollars suddenly to pay for passages to N. or S. America.
(You cannot buy your tickets in lire). What to do, if one has to jump,
I don't yet know. Great tie is old N. - so very old now and rather
gaga and collapsing by inches with arterio-schlerosis. HOW, I ask myself,
could one evacuate this ancient man in a hurry? For one thing, I don't
believe he could take it. One can't take him and one can't leave
him behind. It is like a dilemma in a very third-rate movie!

Rationing, do remember, is already in effect. Not only fuel.
Useless to hoard here, for the first thing would be to try to escape,
but I have bought new tires (rubber is now requisitioned) and have
sent for such things as razor-blades, have a hoard of bidons of benzina,
soap, metal cooking pots, etc. (these things are already vanishing
fast from the U. S. market) and lots of woollies, socks, etc. (In
Italy, the cost of wool has trebled.)

After the hurricane, the garden, stripped and thinned, rapidly
respread itself, and now there is a lovely moment of carpets of violets
and yellow crocus and almond blossom. Weather has been VILE. Rain,
rain, rain. One might almost be in Wigan. Unprecedented. Oldest
inhabitants mutter this has never happened before and darkly suggest
Russian interference with the atmosphere. However, last week in
Anticoli and Rome was too beautiful to be true. How supernaturally
lovely Rome can be! At Anticoli in the garden, there was a steep
bank of vividly blue iris sitting in a bed of snow. On Capri I
am now sitting at my desk with a giant log fire beside me. COLD!
The chinchilla cats are bliss, like jet-propelled snowballs.

VILLA TUORO

CAPRI

17 Jan 1951

Darling Fido,

My list of flowers was just in time, for the night before last and all day yesterday we were whipped by the most vicious windstorm I have ever experienced. The wind came in pugilistic knock-out blows that flattened trees, lifted the heavy plate-glass top of the terrace dining-table and scattered it in a million shards all over the garden, blew my best huge and heavy Roman amphora over a wall onto the pergola, smashed hundreds of bottles stored on shelves and dozens of flower-pots, tore climbing plants from arches and pergolas knocked down walls (not mine) blew out plate glass windows, smashed up the Grande Marina beach (the Napoli boat which got in at six tried till eight-thirty to disembark passengers in the harbour and couldn't and had to go back, one immense pine tree snapped in half and olives lie shattered everywhere. Today we are busy clearing the debris. Bougainvilleas are stripped and shattered, and all my trees are safe because I rushedout and roped them. A trellis blew down and the top was lifted off a cistern and cold frames simply dissolved into thin air. I think I am insured for part of the damages. The garden looks utterly battered which is sad for it was only two days ago a thing of beauty, now it is all but stripped of leaves and wholly of flowers. The wind simply burnt the tops off the hibiscus and now they are crushed old brown things. But being tough, they will survive. It's so depressing that I'm off to Anticoli for five or six days to see if that has been hit; perhaps the storm was only local. You remember the terrace above the funicular over the sea? It was quite impossible to approach; people could not stand and again the wind. Telephone and electricity both knocked out. My best giant organ-pipe cactus in smithereens strewn for half a mile down the viale.

The sea is calm again today and there's not a breath of wind. Shall take the afternoon boat and drive to Rome and stay the night there - It would be too late to get to Anticoli - the fires would have gone out and one would freeze. No mail, of course, and no letters leaving until today - and no newspapers. Fortunatly the radio worked (I have a portable one too with battery - a good idea for when lights fail).

I trust Switzerland had no such mishap.

Must now scramble into town-clothes as lunchtime approaches and the boat leaves soon afterwards. But thought our "disastro" would interest you after my purring!

VILLA TUORO
CAPRI

15 January 1950

Darling Fido,

Many thanks for your letter. I was delighted you had enjoyed Robert's visit so much. Here too there was, as I think I told you, appalling weather; half Italy drowned and Capri was just a thing conjured up in swirling mists of rain; almost invisible and quite spectacularly lovely, but oh so wet! Now the sun blazes, everything has a lustre and light that make it impossible to be indoors. And flowers: I must bore you with a list, as I have just been round the garden: mimosa (magnificent clouds of enormous yellow balls), crimson and coral bougainvillea, a small quantity of first-rate roses; veronica, geraniums, snapdragons, masses of camellia, and of hybiscus, aconite, jasmin, crocus, narcissus, periwinkle, bignonia capensis and grandiflora, primula, begonias, cyclamen, salvia, various cacti, pointsettia and canna (thelast two I find too "municipal gardenish" and am eradicating.) We have as a next door neighbour a man called MacEachran who has the most famous garden in Italy on Lago di Maggiore (he himself put up many of the Kew greenhouses and he is a funny, snobbish old Australian, and was kind enough to admire our little garden and has promised to send all sorts of rare flowers. This sort of thing: "I had just before I left a consignment of plants from Sumatra. Found them all very dull. Nothing really I cared for. But there were one or two things in consignments from Peru and Bolivia. I see you have several varieties of hibiscus. I think I have 27. If you'd like some my gardener (he has fifty) will send you some." So, greedy us, we make quite a fuss of the old bore. Queer as a coot and a fascist, but let him be. I have visions of Capri and Anticoli looking as exotic as Trenoweth!

Off to Anticoli for 5 days on Thursday. Must instal the years' supply of wood (now is the woodcutting season) and do some winter planting.

Funny, funny news! I wonder if Russia doesn't feel too that war on a major scale is obsolescent as a means to an end and very soon must be obsolete. Certainly it is having its way very well without one. "There" as an American stockbroker wailed, seeing Truman's latest tax demands, "goes our standard of living!" Italy in foment because of Eisenhauer's impending visit. They are asses - well, so is everyone. I think the only thing is to hang on and then the moment Berlin or Yugoslavia is attacked, step on the gas; it will be a mess because everybody will be clamouring to do the same, but I am sure one can bribe one's way out of it.

In ogni modo, here for the moment there has come a beautiful pre-Spring and it is good to be alive in what Monte Mackenzie called in Vestal Fires, "this real Italian weather, honey."

N. has had bronchitis - now better. But gloomed about the house for several days being an awful old bore, I must say. Today he's gone out; it feels like a festa!

Much love

VILLA TUORO
CAPRI

6 June 1951

Darling Fido,

I'm afraid the crowded weeks have kept me from many duties. Anticoli, in the middle of last month on my return, had had nothing but rain and weeds had sprung up waist-high. At infinite peril to life or limb, I mounted ladders and painted the ceiling (a vaulted one with beams!) and walls of the living-room, and with the aid of a local mason recemented the enormous circular inside of a courtyard fountain which had cracked and let the water escape. It was fun but exhausting to these middle-aged bones. I stayed there more than a fortnight instead of what had been planned as eight days. Came back to find a conclave. Chester Purves and niece on the brink of arriving, and about a dozen others already arrived. I don't know whether it is the same with you in Switzerland, but this Spring here has brought out more flowers, wild and cultivated, than I have ever seen. All the roads and meadows were vivid with flowers.

In Rome saw Cecil Gray who has taken a flat there for some months. He got cirrhosis so badly that in London they said he must make any preparations he had to; there was nothing to do now. And he crawled to Rome to die (he had a girl-friend there - the opera singer) and instead of dying, she put him in the hands of a Polish doctor who gave him intramuscular injections in the legs of hormones from an unborn calf, rushed at blood-temperature from the abbattoir. The result: after the first inoculation he peed 4 litres! All the fluids that the liver had been unable to cope with were regathered and now what was apparently an old mass of tabbers is functioning perfectly. Naturally he is in pain from the injections (the needle is as fat as a finger) and cannot drink for months, but is alive and getting well. He had eight injections in all, and in about three months may have to have two more. (2 doctors in Rome do the same ... otherwise nobody.)

Thankyou so much for the "Firbank". Good. He writes so well that one wishes he just had that spark....Did you see "The Loved and Envied" by Bagnold? Very good, but more Kat that Fido, I think. Graham Greene has asked me to collaborate on a book of the movies in which I do the "silent" part and he the "sound" part. As it is bound to sell, it might be well worth it. I have so many fine old photos. What happened eventually to the cliches? One might be able to use some IF they're available. But not yet. Won't be before October. I hear the Festival of Britain is surprisingly good....shall you go?

I didn't ask Chester to bring the stuff you so kindly brought from New York as I thought perhaps you might not want to be bothered seeing him, but I think Arthur Johnson may go to Switzerland soon and perhaps it could be sent to him...I'll let you know. Yes, DO DO come to Anticoli. I have a lovely little rubber kneeling mat waiting for you, and you can help with the weeds! You'll love it as it is completely untourist Italy; incredibly lovely with ruins not only of Roman and Greek but of prehistoric walls; and not one tourist comes anywhere nearer than Tivoli, 30 Km away. Come ANY TIME! A telegram and I'll meet a plane or train anywhere, anytime you say. I hear that ALL England has invaded Switzerland. How nice! I wonder if Kat's in the Ticino? Dear me, I would so love to see you both again!

VILLA TUORO
CAPRI

26 June 1951

Darling Fido,

A thousand thanks for your two letters...I hope this reaches you in time for the Gregorys. I think the most logical person in Venice, since they are on a Gu ggenheim Fellowship - would be Peggy Guggenheim herself, who has a palazzo there; would be very hospitable and lend them or take them in, her motorscafe to the neighbouring islands. It is also a good idea as she is expected to arrive on Capri before long and could bring them camera? faxer parts if I'm not here, at least the villa will be open and I can send the gardener to pick them up. Her address (and title!!!):

Miss Peggy Guggenheim
Palazzo Leoni Venier
701 S. Gregorio Venezia

It is right on the grand Canal, but if they don't want to take a gondola, they can cross little bridges but would need a guide as the garden entrance is in one of those labyrinths. I think they may know her or at any rate will be well entertained and she has a fascinating art collection. I am pretty sure she has a phone, and that her name could be found in the directory. Do tell them to say they are friends of mine as well as yours (although I believe you haven't seen the old bat for 99 years) and I'll regale them and tell them all the news of the inexpensive and good restaurants. Meanwhile I'll drop her a line and tell her they're coming.

I am so sorry poor Bear had so tough a time. I hope all the discomforts are now "tempi passati". I had my own little tummy troubles but now MUCH better....you'll have heard of them in my previous letter. But I am most sorry that you have been done out of your trip to Scilly, which I know you love so much, and indeed it must be extremely lovely. Can't you go later - does it get very storm-swept in say September? Surely not? I had no idea it got so booked up...but, my God, you should see Capri! I'm off day after tomorrow and hope to be off for some time. Farouk has at last gone; his thug policemen were ghoulish and "incidenti gravissimi" were only averted by a miracle. They hit American women (which doesn't go well, as you know, in the land of the free) and confiscated their reserved tables for Fatty and on the last night when we were invited by Gracie Fields for a gala down at her horrid Canzone del Mare, not only was a table confiscated from the U.S. Steel King (whose yacht is bigger than Farouks!) but when the group was shoved angrily across the dance floor, one of the ladies came from the loo and not knowing of the change went back to her table, was literally "handled" by the police and when she said "But I left my bag in the corner" they said "You can pick it up at the police-station tomorrow morning". The band played deafeningly to drown out the noise of combat, and to everyone's relief, the fat bastard left yesterday morning. Reproving and sighful little paragraphs about the conduct of his escorts. And IMMENSE pats for the Italian police who literally outnumbered the thronging tourists. I was so hoping he'd get smacked with a wet omelette!

VILLA TUORO
CAPRI

*2*

I am sorry too about the financial difficulties you are
having. I must say I am dismayed at the negligence one meets
on all sides where one expects expert advice. I will, naturally,
agree to anything you think best for my settlement, and am
more than grateful to you for taking on another problem when you
have so many of your own. I am not quite clear about your
suggestion that "it might be necessary for you to have an account"
- presumably with your man who got the stuff from London? I have,
as you know, not closed my account with Societe de Banque S. and
have also a tiny dollar account with Leu et Cie (for soot reasons
now obsolescent) but presume neither of these would do? But, as
far as I am concerned, please do anything you judge best, and don't
put yourself to any trouble on my account - isn't it something I
could handle myself?

Rene is a naughty boy to "tell tales"...yes, I have scraped
bottom rather these last weeks, mainly his fault! First the
chartered accountants overpaid my 1950 income tax by $700, then
they increased my income tax for '51 and paid two instalments without
consulting me (1100 a quarter now instead of 700) at the same time
Luigi Porzio my Neapolitan lawyer sent in his year's bill for
$1,000 (many services, however) and Rene almost at the same time
deducted for HIS year's services, then Capri sent up casually for
3 years a taxation of $60,000 (about $100 per annum) for "tassa
di famiglia" - and so on. All imprevus. However, I have weathered
it and HOPE in future to have a little more so-operation from
those casual bastards at 60 East 42nd. What makes me mad is that they now
announce another 12½% increase as from September of this year.
Of course, what I should do is let this place for the summer - I
could get about $150 a month in the season - not that that's so
much, but to keep the house open costs at the very minimum $300
a month, whereas at Anticoli I could live easily on $150 a month.
So that it is not that I'd make money, but it would give a welcome
3 month gap in spending and save at least $900. But I can't turn
Norman out. I murmered something about it but he kicked up such a
fuss outside to other people, saying he'd take his overdose of sleeping
pills, that I let it ride...very difficult; he gets more and more
senile, cantankerous and difficult.

Now as to Anticoli, COME WHEN YOU CAN AND BRING WHOM YOU LIKE.
I have three bedrooms available for you, each big enough if
necessary to put double beds - I mean two beds - in. Please do
come, because I think it would enchant you; it is a new world,
a quite unknown Italy, and it isn't for nothing that the Aniene Valley
is the Home of the Nightingale. Your friend who loves flowers wo ld
love it too - the garden is heaven - simple, rustic, but has been
loved for many ages. I have just had a most beautiful basket made
for Twopence, the most angelic of the chincillas - a "neuter" male.
He will be a year old on July 8. I take him to Anticoli. His
mother has just had an accouchement so she must stay and feed her
offspring. Well, well, well!

S. FILIPPO - ANTICOLI CORRADO - PROV: ROMA

26 July 1951

Darling Fido,

Just a line to let you know that from now on I shall be
here (D. V.) till mid September and maybe even later. O wonderland
that it is! What weather....so cool last night I needed two blankets
and one fills ones lungs with lovely mountain air instead of pre-heated
flannel. Capri was something like the innermost orchid-house - you
know the one wherein you can hardly breathe? So green, so quiet, here,
so undisturbed and almost painfully beautiful. It awaits you so come
as soon as you can.

Confusion however reigns today....all the living-room
furniture has spilled into the other rooms and they are scraping the
walls which have to be repainted; while outdoors is a voluble
conferenza in which doubt and dire forebodings seem to predominate
about lopping off some dead branches high, high in the pinetrees
over the roof. I want them to do it with the minimum loss of life
but I gather they do not expect a survivor so I am waiving all
responsibility and trust that at any moment bodies dont start thumping
through the roof! And at the same time I am having the fountains
cleaned out, so all is bustle and naked louts, but in two days all
will be peace again.

Went into Rome last night to go for the first time to the
outdoor opera in the Roman Baths. It was La Traviata and well enough
sung, but what was miraculous was the natural setting with the towering
Roman ruins blocked against the sky and lit by the moon so that as
an old dame from somewhere like Montana sitting next to me said to her
companion "Mary, those old ruins are so romannick I just can't keep my
eyes on the stage." (I didn't tell you did I of the American female
at Pompei this Spring who said to a member of her party "You know, I
jes can't get it into mah head that anything existed before Jesus Christ!"
Presumably she was confusing him with God the Father? And there w as
the other one on Capri not long ago who said "Hey, Maw, didja finely
get the corl necklace?" Work that one out! Don't know why I'm telling
you all this except that the American in Italy is a queer fish, and
one so out of water!

Am writing a nonsense Mss. the autobiography of
Lily Talbot de Gurre-Fischinger, Contessa Troppobenvenita - one of those
incredibly dubious old dames (born in Nijninovgorod and currently
living in Napoli at the Pensione Schmidt) illustrated by herself and her
great aunt Katja. Piffle but it amuses me and may just possibly be
satirical enough to amuse others. C'est à voir. I am drawing
freely on local talent (Capri not Anticoli) for characterization.

Did I tell you, Eric Wolton is at present with his incredible
wife (whose sole conversation to which you are relentlessly dragged back
is the price of pawpaws) on Capri? She is fantastic and wears a kind
of plaster corset or, one quite as stiff into which she is poured and
is the shape of Noah's wife and her blouses have tiny tucks in
all the places that haven't been tucked in a white man's land since 1900.
QUITE a figure! Do see (talking of figures) the old Dotoressa if she
calls - she's a wonderful old character - a true breath of old
Austria. Loves to be bawdy so don(t let her behave too well or she wont
be half as funny!

27 July 1951

Darling Fido

Your wonderful letter of July 25 just in. How absolutely excitingly heavenly! You are really coming....it makes me feel as heady as my chinchilla cat which I can see rushing up a quite vertical tree after a bird long since flown!

Aug. 9....I'll be at the Ciampino Airport....let me know what plane, what time due and from what Airport in Suisse (or the number of the flight will do).

As wired, I have two single rooms and will be only too happy to put two people up; more than that would be impossible because the beds are all virginally narrow! But if Herring is along we can see what is best to do. Certainly I want you here and certainly for more than one night. As a matter of fact you ought to be here all the time because it is many, many degrees cooler than in Rome and always with the lovely winds that come swirling around the mountains and fill the lungs with air. And that is terribly important in Italy in the Summer. So that please be warned and stay clear of Florence which always has a climate in Summer worse than New York or Washington, and is apparently this year insupportable. Nannina Torrigiani wrote that when she returned this last week-end from the Tyrol she stayed just long enough to pack a change of wardrobe and went off to the French Riviera; and Nella Papa herself has fled to the Coast of Italy. And from Capri N. D. writes that it is stifling. While here at night I sleep under two welcome blankets!

There should be no trouble at all about hotels; people are leaving Rome now for summer vacation although there might be a rather big crowd of trippers for Feragosto which is the middle of August, but by then you'd be, alas, leaving. If you want grande luxe the best is the Hassler which is Swiss owned and run, immaculate, with a glorious view over Rome and it is beside the Pincio (the Borghese Gardens). New York prices. Piazza Trinità di Monte. Cheaper and good and central the Inghilterra in the Via Bocca di Leonò. Or the Hotel Flora, big and comfortable with the advantage of being just at the bus terminal of the airlines. Why not wire me what accomodation you want and I'll fix and wire you back confirmation?

I can't tell you how overjoyed I feel that at long last we shall be able to see each other again; it's wonderful of you to come. Let me know too if there's anything I can do to prepare the way - do you want theatres or outdoor opera or anything like that - or books or any kind of information? Bring cool clothes - and for the evenings here perhaps a cardigan or thin wrap of some sort.

Blessings and love from a wildly excited

Sunday 29 July 1951.

Darling Fido,

Just to confirm that your first letter sent to Capri was forwarded here. I now await a wire from you and will hold this till tomorrow (Monday) when, unless it is some other benighted Saint's day, the post office will be open and there may be word from you.

Meanwhile today has been one of Utter Confusion. At SIX arrived four tame gorillas with Fortunato their boss, a wonderful Tuscan tough who runs a near by house, and ten minutes later, started wild crashes that shook the house and probably have been seismographically registered in Vaud! Tree pruning! Hasn't been done since 1933 and these giant trees 120 feet or more had been damaged here and there by artillery fire and many limbs - you cant call them branches since the smaller ones were thicker than a thick man round the middle. O dear! But everything is safer even if the newly cleaned out fountains are now thick with debris and all the tender grass in a little lawn fondly planted and watered by me scored feet deep with branches. However, in about a week some sort of damaged order will have been brought about and the wood gained is worth more than a years rent and will last for at least three years. This all brought me by 11 a.m. to the brink of nervous collapse, as when, brought to the window by a bigger and ghastlier thud than any before, I would espy waving widely across the heavens at the very top of these mighty trees (wait till you see them!) not one but two figures blithely, it seemed, sawing the last wood from under them. Then of course another disastro. The living room was being repainted in beautiful flat oil paint. And this morning it turned out not merely glossy but mirror-like. To avoid complete collapse I rushed to Tivoli and had a lovely lunch of trout beside a Roman temple over the cataract, and would have been beautifully soothed but that in flooded a vast party shepherded by the American Express of indescribable middle-West yokels. Their cicerone told them that there was the temple of Vesta or of Sibilla and had to add "it is a Roman temple". "Maggie, that's a Roman temple. Well, for crying out loud, is THAT a temple? That itsybitsy thing?" (Shades of Cecil de Mille?)

Altogether a rather strenuous day. What to do with the paint I cant and darent yet think. You'll have to try to look deeply at the floor when you come if I can't find some remedy before because it looks like a shrieking bordello at the moment. O dear! And everything was looking so pretty! Moral: Never Make Improvements!

Ouf! What a day! I trust that peace will have descended again before you come. And - as our mad neighbour on Capri yells with mounting choler - "All I came here for is Peace and Quiet and Beauty!"

barks and love,

8 August 1951

To whom it may concern:

This will confirm that Mrs. Winifred Bryher of Villa Kenwin, Burier, Vaud, Switzerland, is authorized to represent me in discussing ways and means of possible rearrangement of my assets in order to procure certain advantages and improvements in the general set-up.

Mrs. Bryher is in possession substantially of all important information as to my estate, and has my authority to examine all financial matters which may be desirable for the above purpose.

Witness:

Address:

Monday Aug 51

Fido darling,

a tiny note only to thank you for everything kind and wonderful
you did here, the kindest and most wonderful being to come simply. It
was for me a wonderful though short visit and I shall always be so happy that
you came and that you liked what you saw. But wait till next time, when
the Bryher Wing is ready! Starting before six this morning, caravans of
old horses, mules and donkeys began their processions backwards and
forwards up the paths and past the fountain where we sat, and are dumping
masses of sand and pebbles and cement in appropriate places. Little Rocco
is eager to get the work done and to get his hands on some more of that
wonderful cash the first instalment of which made his eyes pop and his
breath desert him. I go and watch and give the general impression of
amiability but knowledgable distrust; finger the sand, gaze sourly at
the cement and am reassured "It is ottimo; the mixture must be
just right." And "Altro che, " I reply, "too much sand and it might as
well not be built." "You have reason," he agrees, nodding as expert to
expert. They seem so far to be doing very well.

Now, of course, it has turned as cool as May; when you were here
I'm afraid we got the outer fringes of the disturbance in the North.

It was very naughty of you to press on me that last biglietto
and it shall be applied to plants - as you suggested - and they will
be placed near the new Wing, as is appropriate. I thought Mrs Pearson
most pleasant in a limited way, but could quite see that she could never
be your dish.

I enclose the note that went into the wrong pocket and hope it
is the sort of thing that is needed.

As I said up at Monte Cavo, it would be wonderful to see more of
you and I can more easily get about than you, and could come from time to
time; but sometimes one can be a nuisance even if only in breaking up an
established rhythm; there are, after all, always times that are right and
times that aren't, and don't feel that I want to force myself in any way or
at any time, but if and when it seems O.K. I think we ought to see a
little more of each other. I know how busy you are. Your "breakfast"
comments were superb. Alas, I have none, but will keep my ears open
next time I go into Rome. And that won't be for a few days, for Wednesday
is Ferragosto, the big August holiday and all Italy takes it with passionate
seriousness and nice, calm Anticoli is the place to sit out that Bedlam!

Twopence caught a mole and we are very proud of him. He had a
chicken carcase as a reward. All Anticoli hails you. They feel, and
in a way they are right, that the munificent "straniere" who passed by
and caused a ruined tower to spring up again must be some legendary
 creature, or perhaps just a rather special angel. Things like that don't
happen in an ordinary world. Guerina is very proud; she feels that
some of the glory is hers. She holds her head high, for last year when
Jim Barber was here the Ambacciatore Inglese (old Victor Mallet) came
out with La Principessa Margherita, and that was quite a day, but nothing
compared to this. It is all tanto signorile.

Do persuade the Kat to come down and try to arrange things so that
you can come too. with so much love and gratitude

Rover.

Monday

Fido,

I'm shattered; but literally shattered. You'll have to
forgive all but baboon-babble in this shaking note, because
I am most traumatically out of my depth in the heavenly
shock of your astounding munificence: your magical, naughty,
good, wonderful and O so kind letter, and this, if you please,
on top of your magical, naughty, good, wonderful and O so kind
visit—and then, from Maggs the lovely, lovely book on Rome
(including a most beautiful lithograph of our little Tempio
di Sibilla at Tivoli: little changed since 1844) and also
the Journal of Gide, a delight understandably overshadowed only by
the sheer magic of the other gifts.

O dear....thankyou. No, I'm dumb. It's too much.
For the moment all I can do is walk round and round the circles
of the garden singing inside and brushing away tears.

Fortunately the masons have gone, and I feel as daft as
Ophelia, only she wasn't happy, poor girl, whereas all this
on top of - all this - is - is - is......

It's no good. Off this goes, only to say that I didn't
fall dead as is known to happen to people suddenly lucky.
I s_h all attempt to calm down during the evening and
write and really try to get back out of seventh heaven to
a plane where at least I can get a birds-eye-view of reality,

and attend to what must be done. For the moment - O dear me -
Fido, really! Your goodness of heart, your natural kindness,
is almost illegal; there's something mutinous about it!
And how can I call you to order?

23 August

Darling Fido,

I am still stunned by the most generous gift. How lovely for me, and how spoilt I am! Now comes another letter (dated 19th) with yet another gift, and it's all too much! The daffodils, I mean. How fantastic they sound; I cannot wait to see them in bloom and hope only I can coddle them the way they most like it. I feel they should be grown in very special pots....what sort of soil is best? Loam? Leaf-mould? Then, does on put on the peat-moss only in Summer....and of course, Hop-manure may be hard to find in Italy, but perhaps from the Dolomites where they make beer////I wonder if there's any substitute? Sorry to be so breathless, but it is, you will agree, a most exciting consignment and I must absolutely know the right things to do... and is there any way to propagate? Do they have babies? Dear me, how wo nderful.

Please excuse the erratic typeing - the machine has begun to misbehave. As to the wonderful "Safid" as you call it in one letter and "Sicap" in another (unless these are different things and I have not understood; for, indeed, I am quite overcome and happily bewildered) - well, as to Safid or Sicap, of course you shall have a guarantee that capital will not be touched. It does seem a miracle - and one might find advantages in putting into the same hands (should it beneficially affect U.S. tax situation) a bit of the U.S. capital, under the same agreement not to touch capital? One might look into the matter, but naturally without saying anything in U.S. as I see no reason why non residents should be taxed on what they dont hold in the U.S.

24 August

I had to abandon letter yesterday as friends arrived to spend the day; there was some rain so they had to stick most of the time indoors and that tied one. I hardly minded for the rain was wonderful and terribly needed, though of course it was not even fractionally enough.

The "ruin" is in that stage where it looks worse then ever, but is all braced with steel and iron network, and wood to enclose the ferro concrete. I find that if I get "remains" of travertine - that is to say peices cut irregularly, it costs less than tiles, and so I think that I shall put it in as it looks lovely and will be fine for winter because one can store plants there without marking the floor. I have thought of an idea which might work for the window wall: to have at each side swivelling "flag-poles" and depending from them "flags" which could be, so to speak furled or unfurled of muslin painted with some beautiful heraldic devices - say the black and white and gold of Siena. The muslin would cost nothing and I could paint them myself - as of old with Lottze Reiniger! I think they would look dramatic without being too strident, and the flagpoles could be swung out against the side-walls or swung together across the windows. It would simply mean a metal bar in a greased socket - and a tasselled cord to control them with. I think that would work because expensive hangings would be (a) expensive, (b) probably uninteresting, and (c) conventional. Cotton being the cheapest material available, can be used lavishly, but in fact less lavishly than a curtain which would have to be pleated,

VILLA TUORO
CAPRI

22 October 1951

Darling Fido,

Many thanks for your letter....How horrid of W. Carlos
Williams to make such a beast of himself. I think he should
indeed, and perhaps even more than him, Random Houss, should
be rapped over the knuckles. N.D. says he is willing to write
another "Plea for Better Manners". Olympian old Socrates was
quoted by Plato as having said that to be annoyed by people
with manners worse than one's own is to descend to their level,
but it's hard to be so haughty and one has to defend others
if not oneself. Let me know if we can do anything here.
Meanwhile I have sent for the book. I hope everyone sues
as one!

Alone here for some days. Islay and maman are off
visiting Siren Land and Amalfi and Paestum, and old N. is
having himself one fine time singing the blues, and talking
about those old pills which he's had so long that if he ever thinks
of taking them and opehing the bottle (which he wont) I expect
they will fanish in a little cloud of greenish dust. Meanwhile
a lugubrièus old man comes up every morning and sticks hormones into
his bottom.

Very interested by your "grey" scheme and would indeed
like to join, especially as now Italy, bullied by the U.S. which
controls its currency, has inagurated an income tax retroactive
through 1950, and although the first step is one of confusion,
they are bound to toughen up and reciprocal arrangements like
your Swiss ones of disclosure of assets mutually, may end in a sad
story for me; so if one could reduce the amount of the trust with Rene
and put the rest somewhere else, the "findings" in the States would not
be so substantial and I could look innocently down my nose and
continue to prosper! I think it absolutely fiendish that they
adjudicate these powers to themselves; it is really Dick Turpin
or worse - it isn't even a "masked raid"! And one profoundly
disapproves of having one's pennies which can be spent constructively
and helpfully, being squandered on these devilish instruments for
extinguishing humanity. If one cannot categorically refuse on
moral principles without going to jail, then one must "cheat" to
the limit! I will not pay for annihilation.

I enclose the sad letter from the "diva" in a copy which you
can burn when read, but thought its bearing on our Cecil would
interest you. I wrote her at once and again when the old boy she
sent this one to handed it to me to read, but have had no answer.
One hopes that the first paroxysms of sorrow will have passed and
that she has begun to readjust. I am however a little worried; it
is so sad for her, so recently having lost her old mother,
her last relation, and now she is truly abandonnata. Better not to show
it to Kat, don't you think? I had a nice card from her but saying alas
she is going to la Paix and NOT that she is coming to Italy. It would
be heaven if you could arrange it. Try your best.

COPY FOR BRYHER

30 December 1951

Dear Rene,

Bryher has forwarded me your letter of December 19
addressed to her (ref: RAW:VF) and has asked me to answer directly,
as it concerns my resident status in the U.S.

been

You state in your letter that I have/maintained as an American
resident based on my "keeping an apartment in New York", but how can I be
classed as an American resident when my reentry permit as a resident alien
expired during my last visit to the United States in February, 1950, and was
not renewed? I could not reenter the U.S. any more on my old alien-resident
quota number but only with a temporary visitor's visa, and that automatically
became the case in February, 1950. Perhaps the explanation of my present
status as maintained by you for tax purposes is that I am on tax facts a resident
of the U.S. because I still pay rental on an apartment there?

I would like to know (1) how, under the circumstances above described,
I can be on the one hand a "resident" of the United States and on the other,
resident in Italy with no visa of any kind at all to enable me even to visit
the U.S. for the allotted period of three months:

(2) If holding an apartment in New York makes me automatically for tax purposes a resident, what effect does this have on my tax situation? Surely I pay more by being resident?

(3) If I do pay more by being resident, and yet the fact of maintaining a rented apartment does not for tax purposes constitute residence, then clearly I ought not to have paid 1951 taxes on the higher resident assessment. Or, I imagine, in 1950 after February of that year?

(4) If I am declared non-resident for 1952, must I dispose of my apartment in New York?

A copy of this letter goes to Bryher for her files.

Just recovering from Christmas and now New Year. I hope yours
will be a very fine one. Great Garbo arrives on Capri and Gracie Fields
is marrying the electrician who has disembowelled my Victrola, and now that
he's hit the jackpot I suppose I shall never be able to play my new long-playing
records. Not only in the world of finance is life complicated. Magnificent
weather here; it could be May.

All best wishes