Norman Holmes Pearson

December 19, 1938

Mrs. Kenneth Macpherson
% Chemical Bank & Trust Company
540 Lexington Avenue
New York City, New York

Dear Bryher:

I was delighted beyond words to receive your wire and to learn that the ANTHOLOGY had pleased you even at first sight. Nothing could flatter me more than to have the book reviewed in LIFE AND LETTERS, but you must not think it a duty of friendship.

The one thing which I hope the book is able to accomplish is to point out to the public the fact that contemporary American literature is, what is for us, our second great period of creative writing. I doubt if this can be said of any other of the chief countries today. I was glad to see that the New York TIMES, in its daily edition, had a vague glimmering of this, although the weekly TRIBUNE was hardly a review at all. Perhaps in a way one even ought to go so far as to say that from the point of view of world literature, the present is America's greatest period, for never before have our poets or our writers of prose been leading influences for the writers of other nations. Naturally I feel all this particularly strongly, because it is so defiantly denied, or at least neglected, in all American academic circles. From their point of view, nothing has been written since the Nineteenth Century, and modern literature ends with such poets as Robinson and Frost.

I think I told you before how much I owe to Horace and Marya for their help in writing the last of the Commentaries. They came to visit me at a time when my morale was at a particularly low ebb and jacked me back into activity again. Horace wrote some of them himself, but, of course, you must not mention this in your review since he does not wish it and it would only prove embarrassing. Some day I shall try to make it known what help he gave to me, but if I were to do it at the moment the critics would only believe that I included him because of my friendship for him. The truth is, our friendship came only as a result of his inclusion.

I hope your trip to the South was a revealing one and that you managed to see something of the different sides of life there. By that I mean that I hope you saw the University of Virginia, Williamsburg, and some of the lovely homes in Annapolis and the Tidewater country; but I also hope with all my heart that you had a chance to see a little of the TVA section, and perhaps something of what the onset of industrialism has meant to the South.

I have been doing somewhat less reading than usual because of the fact that I now spend considerable time both in the morning and in

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23 February 44

Dear Bryher:

I do thank you for letting me read the manuscript. I think you've caught very wonderfully the sensibilities of a child. In this case the child is you (as it should be), and the experiences are denotatively yours; but connotatively they are every child's (as they should be). The sections get better as they go on. Perhaps because the spots of childhood, to use a Wordsworthian turn, are more specific and more minutely drawn. These later spots have their atmosphere, their setting, all quite definitely filled out. I never did get quite that feeling about your first days in England. I suspect that writing about those days in this country didn't somehow fill you with the same enthusiasm as, say, France or Egypt did. Nor would the early home ever stand out so clearly, to a child who travelled for education as his first glimpses of story-book, Hentyland. Yet I have a feeling that you could supply a little more of this definite touching of the British house.

The book has infinite possibilities, as you go on. Chiefly, I think, because you never mistake the particular outline of a thing or an experience for its ultimate significance. I've always felt about such a magnificent book as Adams' Education, that somehow nothing much emerges out of the book but Adams. I know it's felt to represent an age. It does to an extent, but peculiarly so since Adams never recognises how many others feel the way he did. It's a petulant book; yours, thank God, is not.

All these are literary gratitudes on my part, and congratulations. There is a personal gratification as well. I like to know my friends. Your gesture of letting me read the book was a gesture of yourself; and for this as for so much I am yours

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Wt. P.5:G428 18,000 ea 11/43 K&J 21-7793

SL August 1944

Dear Bryher:

This is a birthday letter, since you won't be home for the second; and though I have no doubt it will not reach you until days afterwards it does bring my love and best wishes. Like so many of your friends, I have the most cause for rejoicing at your being. Had I known Perdita was going to visit you I should have sent by her my birthday present, two volumes of the first of George Cochrane's WANDERINGS IN GREECE, which a little maggspie told me you might like. It waits for you here, or shall I wrap it up and send it along? I fancied your arms would be full on your return trip.

The news from the front continues to be good, and mail to the continent has already opened up, though not for very far inland as yet. I have asked a friend who is off to Paris to send an enlisted man around to see if he could find traces of Sylvia Beach for you, though whether or not he does will depend on how busy they are. And I fancy they are very busy indeed. Have you seen that Sacha Guitry has been arrested? No doubt a good many of the old familiars will emerge now in a rather foggy light. undeservedly in some case, I feel sure.

We still have bombs flitting through the night here, with sometimes annoying disastrous results. One in Berkely Square took Maggs' windows out, as well as those in most of the neighborhood. But by and large they are easier. However I forbid either of you to stick your noses into town, except for passing them through as quickly as you can. Not the slightest good can be accomplished by lingering here. I should plan to be away for another month at least, and I am serious when I tell you to keep out. Believe me. I'm not being alarmist, just full of common sense. Your father would never have sent a ship out in a storm unless there was to be some real gain from the risk.

I was most grateful to receive a copy of Osbert's Chesterfieldian letter to his son, which Bumpus sent along; and read it with great pleasure for the first time a few nights ago. What style the man has, and control of shifting tone! He writes like an artist, and not many men do. Probably never have, though I daresay there are fewer dedicated artists now than before. Which

2 April 1947

Dear Bryher:

The beginning of the winter academic term with the start of my lectures on American literature has kept me from anything except the correcting of examinations and the preparation of the next day's lecture. Perhaps it was just as well, at the beginning, not to have to tried to prepare them in advance, for one could go straight from the typewriter each morning, where I blocked out my remarks for the two hours before the class straight to the students themselves, with the kind of enthusiasm which one can possess for only a brief time. The course seems to have gone pretty well on the whole, the 190 odd students at least do not regularly fall asleep for the hour we are together, and now during the week's holiday in spring I am daring to try to get some of the material for the future done in advance. However I make no promises as to bettering my correspondence for 190 students is a vast number to have pouring into one's office for conferences, and in addition I have fifty freshmen who are greedy for at least bettering their grades, as no doubt I should be also were I in their shoes breaking them in.

But if I accomplish nothing else during the holiday, it will be a glorious one for me simply for having had the chance to write you after so long, and tell you how much it has meant to me to hear from you. Believe me I do relieve on them, and on whatever day I return home to find one waiting for me there I am like one who has been given a new shot of energy and relaxation.

I was happy to learn that the divorce went off easily and well. I should think it must be a kind of relief to you to have finally resolved the matter once and for all. I needn't go again into the arguments on which we so firmly believed. There can be no question but that you did the right thing not only for you but for everyone else concerned. I am presuming, however, that the matter of your changed name has not yet gone into effect. But if it has, then you must let me know so that I can hail you on the envelope as well as within the letter by the name which has always meant your identity to me.

I have heard only once I think from Hilda since your return, and that just recently as she was about to set off on her pilgrimage through Switzerland. But she seemed happy to have you back, happy to have Perdita near again, and generally to have achieved an independence and balance which we both long for her to have. I shall be writing her within a day or two, and presume her letters will be forwarded to her wherever she goes. Do let me know how you feel she is. She has asked for some volumes of Henry James, and I shall see what I can pick up for her. And you must let me know anything else that you think she wants. I have indirectly again spoken to Bryn Mawr as to whether they would like her there next year, but I shall not press it in any way, for I think we might save that visit for an emergency if her spirits begin to ebb again, or if she seems to have the vague hungers which are so disturbing if not solaced.

39 GOODRICH STREET NEW HAVEN 11, CONNECTICUT

Now let me see if I can piece together some oddments of
comments in relation to your letters to me, and at least one or two
of the many things I ought to tell to you. First of all, there is
the matter of Almon. Rather stupidly, when he wrote me that he was
writing Hilda, I too wrote her and explained that I had discovered that
he had sold Gertunde's letters to him, and fearing that he would go on
had offered to buy the rest from him. She replied that she had not heard
from him, was sad that he had to do it, but was very very grateful that
I was to keep them off the market. I wrote to him, paraphrasing the
last of the comment, and have no doubt but that he will sell them to me.
But, my dear Bryher, I shall take care of that, and there is no reason
why you should do it. Actually I have also offered to buy his letters
from Pound and Williams, and when that occurs if it does, I meant to
offer to buy or have him give Yale yours, although so far he has no idea
at all that I know you, or am anything save a collector and professor
at Yale. He does know, through Williams, that I knew Hilda during the
war, but that is all. I have never met him, and have no interest in doing
so. All I want to do is to keep his things out of the market, and to
have them in my possession for awhile so that I can take care of any
items that ought not to be preserved. I did buy a presentation copy of
a book from Wallace Stevens to him, as well as the Contact collection
inscribed by you and Hilda, and some others. It looked like the souvenir
of a party, but I don't know. I should not have done anything about it
if by chance I had not learned of the first sales, and decided to act
quickly. I gather he is now back in a family business, working for a
Surgical Supply Company in El Paso.

I think I told you before, in my earlier letter, how delighted I
am that you bought up the unsold copies of Hilda's books. My bundles of
them arrived the day before yesterday, with absolutely no question on the
part of customs at all. The proof copies haven't as yet arrived, but
unquestionably were held up by the strikes, fog etc. Do by all means,
if you can, urge Hilda to go over the mss you brought back to her, for
any poems which might be publishable now. I doubt if she'd send them to
me to make a choice from, but one way or the other, it would help matters
a good deal in the way of reception of her next book, if she could at
least occasionally appear in the magazines here. Between ourselves, I
fear that the somewhat comic case is, that she was for so long closely
identified with the Imagist group, and praised so much as the one pure
and loyal imagist, that the average public thinks she died as a kind of
virgin saint in the ruins of the movement. Or at best that she is a
little old lady, deaf and partly blind, rocking in her chair in a remote
country cottage, whose re-appearance in print is a kind of nostalgic
gesture. This, I hardly need say, is utter rot; but if I could have
some poems to send around, place a few here and there strategically, if
I have some luck, then we could begin to present the picture of her as
she is, a vital and significant writer. These are not things which make
for intellectual justification; they are simply facts of the case. So,
one way or another, do urge her, or help her, either to go over them for
me, or send them on to me so that I can do the work. I wrote her about
the Rose volume, and to my pleasant surprise she seemed to take quite
well, my suggested criticisms of the third book, which seemed to me to
become almost leisurely, as though she had already started a new volume.
It did need more intense, or increasingly intense focusing on Elisabeth,
and a more formalized ending. But the first two books seemed to me to
be truly fine, and as lovely as anything she has written.

AIR
MAIL

I liked very much your description of your meeting with the Masefields. The world has, I am afraid swept beyond them, and the difficult thing is that his kind of art -- and not a bad art at all -- depended on his being sympathetic with the world around him. In that it seems to me he is quite unlike De la Mare, whose art at its best is almost sufficient unto itself. Are they all right for food, or would you like me to send them a bundle occasionally, either of solid food, of fats and butter, or simply of candy. I should love to do it if you give the word. I never met him, but I daresay my friendship with you would be sufficient to excuse the otherwise affrontery of a package.

Willie Maugham I did see occasionally when he was in the States, through Carl Van Vechten, and he came once to Yale to talk to a group of mine at Jonathan Edwards College. He too is lonely, the world he knew has cast its skin, like a snake, and thin-thighed he slumps uncomfortably in the cold on a concrete bench. But he was always kind, and will be kind so long as one does not try to use him or abuse him.

Both Edith and Osbert spoke of your coming in January, in time for their performance of Facades, with Stokowksi at Carnegie Hall. They count on your coming, as of course so do I sometime, but if you can come then, do plan to stay a little longer than usual, for they will want to have you meet their friends, be swept into the social crowd in which they move, and you will not have enough time for that and business and the things you usually want to do and see. Let alone, of course, and I speak with quite unabashed selfishness, the time I hope we can spend together.

They have both met Marianne and become devoted to her, altho I believe Osbert visited her on his earlier trip to the States. Incidentally, Auden tells me that he understands Marianne is quite hard up, and I think I shall try gently to inquire just how true this is. I suppose I could get in touch with her brother if I had to. I am not quite sure how true all this would be, for she loves simplicity. I suppose the core of the matter depends on how her mother's death left her, since perhaps part of her mother's estate -- if that is not too elegant a word for it--went to her clergyman brother.

My Christmas wishes go to you with this, and I am sending out today the book of homage to Edith, which you can give away if you already have another copy. And I am asking the Gotham Book Mart to airmail to you a little volume of Osbert's poetry, which has just appeared her. Your wonderful packages of books continue to come from Bumpus, and I was immensely pleased to have Edith Shakespeare's book, Sachie's fine collection of poems, and Sansom's really very fine prose. He develops constantly into a truly interesting writer, and I find more in him than in any younger American writer of this moment. You make all times a Christmas for me, and I do thank you.

Your summer plans sweep my enthusiasm and envy up with them, when you mention all these parts of Alaska, Canada, and Greenland, which I have never visited. Wherever you go, I am really serious in saying that you must plan to come over before the summer is out, for not only your content but your usefulness depends on continuing the wide understanding which is so uniquely yours. And we do want to see you; we must

AIR MAIL

see you.

Hilda's new book is still with the printers, and I have not yet got back the proofs on it. I am having sent to her the galleys on the poems, which she wants to see, but am doing the prose bit on Elizabethan lyrics quite to myself. She finally agreed to every change but that of the more correct guess at Spenser's birth, but I fixed that up by putting a question mark with her date, which is only one year later than the one generally accepted, also with a question mark. So no one can be too annoyed, and no one will comment on it. But thank God that we could put the hoursson it which it took to get the rest of the text in shape! And I assure you that I did nothing to touch the tone or the shape of it.

Of course I want you to send me as much of The Fourteenth of October as you can. Let me read it, think about it, write to you about it, and I can show it around to the publishers here. I do know that I very much liked what little I read about it two years ago on your visit, and shall never be happy until I have seen more. So I shall count on its coming, and be discontent until it does.

You hardly needed formally to ask me if I would work with the fund which you think of establishing here in the States! I should love to do it, not only for the good it can do, but also because I do think we understand each other's way of thinking to such a degree that I can count on proceeding as the occasion may arise, very much as you yourself would like done. And if I do say so, who perhaps ought not to, that if Simon and Schuster got their hands on it, even through the giving of advice, not only would horrible things happen, but it would be half killed by the very association with that name. They are an immensely successful publishing house, but of a very sensational nature, who know a good commercial venture when they see it, do make very much the most out of it both for themselves and the authors, but who haven't the slightest interest in anything not of the highest potential profit. No, that wouldn't do at all. So formalize your trust in any way that you and your lawyers think best, but I should suggest formalization and legalization of it, even if the actual use of it waits for some years. I know that in the establishment of the Whitney Foundation, on which I was able to take an intimate side view, it was formalized as early as possible, in order to give it as long as possible a legal existence. Transfers to it then become more easily accepted by governments. I can run down to see the lawyers if you want, and we can as well have a board of trustees for $100 as for more.

Incidentally I did mean sometime to ask you what happened to the fifty books from May Sinclair's library, which Hilda a year or two ago wrote me she had been left by Miss Sinclair, and had picked out to send to me. I told her then how delighted I was to have them as part of my library and my tools, and I only don't want her to think I really didn't want them. But I hesitate to bring the matter up with her, all the same, because she may have changed her mind.

My work goes on at a slow but steady pace with the Hawthorne letters, impeded only by the fact that my collaborator in the editing has just had what seems to be a nervous breakdown and is at least temporarily withdrawing, and perhaps permanently backing out. I shouldn't

mind so much if I hadn't, on the strength of his collaboration and
the fact that he would be editing half the 1000 letters, taken on
other jobs for this year's freedom, in addition to this. But I shall
try to get some help otherwise to assist me, and it will, I insist on
this, be done, except for tidying up corners, by the end of my leave.
Incidentally do you think you could find some one in London to help
me out of a pickle. Perhaps Frere could do it, or some better-situ-
ated person. In 1932 Sir John Murray found for me, and secured typed
copies of, about nine letters to Hawthorne's publishing house, which
Murray took over. The letters remained the property of the family.
I was given the copies -- not so good as photostats for accuracy --
but told that I must write again for permission when the time came
to publish them. I have the name of the lady who owned them, but I
hate to do it again through Murray, who might put all sorts of obstacles
in the way. Perhaps what the lady really wants is to sell them, and
he might hold me up to such an extent that they couldn't be bought.
They are not terrifically vital, except as all letters are important
in a collection which pretends to be complete. What I'd like to do,
faute de mieux, is to have some one see if the old lady is still alive,
go to her for permission, and see if photostats could be obtained. Or
if she insists on selling, find out the price so that I could see how
that would work out. I have no contacts with the sort of person who
could do this tactfully and well, and you might be able to give me the
name of someone to whom I could write the full details. How I hate to
put you to this bother for me, but it is an act of scholarship.

Did the edition of Walden ever reach you or Hilda? Neither
has mentioned it, but it went out several months ago, and it does seem
as though it should be with you by now. If it hasn't reached either
destination I'll send out fresh copies by air, which is perhaps the only
real way for things to travel in these days.

Forgive me for going on and on, but you can see how very
much I do want you to come here, so that we can sit together and talk
over such, and many more things, of the sort that concern us both. But
you are wonderful to write, and your letters are so good that they make
a reasonably satisfactory substitution. I count on them, and they make
each day of their arrival a happy one.

My warmest Christmas greetings, in which Susan joins me.

2 April 1949

Dear Bryher:

There were so many things to do on Friday that I never posted your letter, and now having seen Philip and René I can report to you briefly on what passed at our meeting. On the advice of my lawyer, which René accepted as sound and without a demur, we are adding certain clauses both to the by-laws and to articles of incorporation which are for the eye of the internal revenue people. They emphasize the fact that no one may receive any proceeds from the foundation except as reasonable compensation for services actually rendered, and make provision for an ultimate beneficiary in case the foundation is ever dissolved. This is to prevent someone from establishing a fund, then dissolving it to pass the proceeds to grandchildren or great-grandchildren etc in order to shake inheritance or gift taxes. You will have to name the ultimate beneficiary, which must be a charitable organization, and René will write you about this. He is convinced you will want to leave it to an agricultural foundation such as Cornell University in case literature as such seems to be washed up.

As a second point, and from the matter of general policy, I told him that I thought it was improper to have on the group of Members who actually control the money, four members of his firm plus Philip. That means they quite automatically his legal firm, in it because of his present officiating for you, would by itself and permanently have absolute majority in voting power. There is certainly no reason to envisage any change in retaining him, but one always has to allow for exigencies, and the affair hardly seems charitable if it is so closely connected with a single law firm. Therefore — and there was no argument about this— I suggested that among the members there should be René and one of his partners, to act as secretary, and provide continuity, Philip, and myself. I also suggested the possibility of dropping Hilda's brother from the board since he was more appropriate to the earlier agricultural intent than to the present, and would find it inconvenient to attend meetings or to offer advice on the new lines. It was settled that directors need not be members—I shall have to take René's advice on this —, and I suggested the possibility of asking Moëy who is in charge of the Guggenheim Foundation to sit with us for two years as director so that we could profit from his successful experience. Lastly I suggested that the recipients of grants be chosen or at least approved initially by a separate board who need be neither members or directors, altho I should sit with them, and forward to the directors for approval whatever recommendations this committee might make. This will allow us to change this committee frequently in order to profit from as wide a range of experience and contacts as possible.

René is anxious to begin thinking about the first recipient of the three thousand you spoke of, and I have tentatively suggested that we might consider giving it to **Arianne** in order to send her to Paris for work on the La Fontaine. In such a case we would provide her the funds and drafts for it in such a way that she herself would have to use it and not her brother. What do you think?

Oh, yes, one last thing. René was more than anxious to have Dick Simon, of Simon and Schuster, both member and director, and I aid a flat no, thinking we had better get that over with now. I took the liberty of saying finally that I thought you believed as I did that the

type of publishing by S.&S. was not the sort we wanted to help, and in
any case I do not think we ought to try to tie up the Foundation with
any particular house, since the chances are to great of helping out
their authors when they didn't want to make advances themselves. It was
agreed.

And oh, yes, again, one more last thing, I said that eventually
on the board of directors should be two men with financial experience,
especially since one of them would himself at present, at least in terms
of his firm, be profiting from any manipulations or changes of stock
holdings. He could only advise and check himself, which is not a good
situation. It also was agreed.

It was a good and profitable beginning, and everything was most
amiable. You will be pleased, I think, and Philip can tell you about it
when you see him in London later in the month.

The greatest excitement here lately, since you left, has been
the "world Peace Conference at the Waldorf, which was as pretty a C.P.
front job as I have seen for a long time. They tried hard to get me to
be a sponsor, but I would have nothing to do with it. Somewhat unfortu-
nately, I think, the State Department cancelled some entry permits they
had already granted, so the publicity was great. Stapleton was about the
only Britisher present, and I enclose his somewhat unfortunate remarks
at the first meeting. "all, people can be so incredibly stupid.

I sent Mrs Pound off the things I had typed for her, after a snippy
letter on my part a copy of which I shall enclose in my next. Much to my
surprise I got rather apologetic letters back from her and from Ezra. It
was quite an episode, but can be forgotten.

17 April 1949.

Dear Bryher:

Just a note to say that on Friday the group of letters to you from Horace and Marya arrived. I have gone over them, and see nothing that could be in any way offensive to the future, though they should wait for the future. Marya always seems a little plaintive in her letters, uneasily confident about what they have done, and always inherently, I think, rather wishing they were more in the thick of things than they are. But one must say this, and that is that such a wish comes only when they are outside. When they do get into the swim, as they frequently do, their good taste and good sense causes them to withdraw. Marya writes beautiful things, as does Horace; but of the two, Horace is much more of a person.

My birthday passed quietly, but the daytime of it was splent wonderfully pleasantly in writing to you and to Hilda, and at night we had a steak and fresh strawberries and a birthday cake (mostly for the sake of Lizzie). The next day I had a somewhat belated birthday present by receiving an announcement from the Norwegian Ambassador that I had been given by the Norwegian King the Knight's Cross, First Class, of the Royal Order of Saint Olaf. I'll tuck it away, but since I have to promise to return it to the Norwegian Crown on my death it will be a possession of very little use to me, unless at some state occasion I pin it on to cover up a moth-hole in my evening clothes. However the French also gave me one once, and the American government, so I have a little collection of them.

Friday night we heard the St. Mathews' Passion sung, which I had not heard for many years, and although it was not very well sung, still it was sincerely done and a pleasure to listen to.

The painters have finished with the kitchen, and the lighting fixtures are in place. Susan has been working during the past few days in making the curtains for the windows, so it will be completely gay almost before we know it. I have forgotten, since I am writing this at home, just when you planned to go to Stratford, but at any rate this will be waiting for you when you return. I had my first session with my secretary yesterday morning, and gave her enough dictation to keep her busy for days. My desk begins to look orderly again, which is a kind of Easter miracle in itself.

Susan joins in love.

8 May 1949

Dear Bryher:

I'm afraid that whether you like it or not, you must accept a helter-skelter letter. For with the packages which flow in day after day from Switzerland and England — each with something that one day will require a letter of its own — how can I hope to give this letter anything like form or continuity. It has been, I think, a little over a fortnight since I wrote you last. I told you of my trip to New Jersey to lecture at a Swedish church school university there — named Upsala, after its Swedish forebear; it was very small, but now with enrollment swollen everywhere there are some 1800 students. The topic they gave to me: The Puritan tradition of introspection. I did what I could with it, trying to indicate how the Puritan taught himself to distrust himself, to feel the constant necessity of examining his motives and his achievements, to suspect lurking evil in himself and others. From this and by the establishment of whatever American literary tradition we have in terms of the long line of New England writers, we find a sequence of groping self-examining, self-conscious literary characters from the beginning to the present day. Nowhere a character who is sure of himself and sure of his culture. Perhaps that is one reason why there are so many pathetic characters in American writing, and so few tragic ones. Although the real reason for this is, it seems to me, because a democratic structure hardly allows for the classical tragic figure who can drag society down with him. Perhaps it could be done in terms of a business tycoon; and certainly it was done by Melville, but by him under circumstances of shipboard where the rights of democratic man were signed away by the sailors when they put their signatures to the book. Anyhow it went off pretty well (the speach, I mean), and they seemed pleased enough. That was really my last speaking engagement for this season, although already I have been asked by a St. Lawrence University, in upper New York State to give an address (truly that term) next autumn in commemoration of the 50th anniversary of the establishment of their Phi Beta Kappa society. That is the honor society for undergraduates who lead their classes sholastically (that is, get high grades). I had to remind them that I myself was not a member, but I also reminded them that Emerson wasn't either when he made the most famous of all Phi Beta Kappa speaches, "The American Scholar", in which he urged all students to throw away their books.

I think I wrote you also that the Norwegians had made me a knight, first class (whatever that means, tho it sounds nice) of the Order of St. Olaf.

I finished up one last review which I had been asked to do by a friend on his book; finished my revision of the book on Mexican mural painting for my friend Jean Charlot; got the page proofs for Hilda's book back to Macmillans, and have been just down to see them about the final arrangements for publicity and review; copies. It seems odd to have to go into such matters, but it not only helps the book once it reaches the public, but does guarantee that the publishing house pays some attention to it. They are being extremely cooperative, and have designed a handsome jacket and format for the book. The publishing date is now June 28, but we should have copies for you by the first of that month. I am trying now to arrange for what are called blurbs on the jacket, and even Macmillan's were a little startled at my callousness on the matter. At least the women in charge of publicity had never before seen anyone pick up the telephone and ask for blurbs before the person at the other end had even seen the book. I am now hoping for four of them. One from Marianne, who promised me one if she liked the book — as I think she will; one from Horace; one from Bill Benet,

AIR MAIL

constantly at the phone, trying to persuade members to fill in the last vacancies for the arrangement classes. The majority of members much prefer simply to show horticultural exhibits, which of course means simply that they go into their gardens on the morning of the show, cut a few specimens, and put them hit or miss in the show. The show itself comes on Wednesday and Thursday, and until it is over we shall eat out at night and otherwise hold our peace. However I must say that she is doing and efficient job of it, and I hope it will turn out to be a success. She deserves it.

Last weekend we had nine girls staying over Friday and Saturday nights, in connection with the crew races on the river. It is the big spring festivities at Yale, and little Sue brings all her friends from Smith. So enthusiastic was she in her invitations that I found myself having to go down to the Bennett house, which had been vacated for the summer, and sleeping on a couch there, while two girls slept in my bed here. A nuisance, but it is fine for Sue to bring her friends here, and we prefer them coming back with the boys to the house at night than running all over town to the dance halls etc.

I have ordered a new book, just out, for you, which I am told has come and I will ship it on when I pick it up tomorrow. It has a fascinatingly restricted scope—ELIZABETHAN PLAYWRITING, 1600-1605 — and I can only hope that with so small a span it can reasonably well cover the material. Also I am sending on a couple of boxes of the metal foil for roasting and broiling, which we showed you when you were here. Tell your housekeeper that it is a gift to her.

Susan joins me in love. It won't be so long before the next letter.

NORMAN
HOLMES
PEARSON
233 HGS
YALE UNIVERSITY
NEW HAVEN · CONN

20 June 1949

Dear Bryher:

Marshall has nothing on you! Yours is a recovery program in reverse, a true P R P. Tow more packages came in at the end of the week; one from Bumpus, with a copy of the English edition of Osbert's LAUGHTER IN THE NEXT ROOM, and Sansom's THE BODY; and the other from you at Kenwin, with the copies of Steinbeck's IN DUBIOUS BATTLE (which is to my mind the best of the proletariot, s-ocalled, novels of the '30s; Wexley's LAST MILE which I haven't yet read; LOVERS MUST LEARN, which must also be read; and Rice's WE, THE PEOPLE. And so, as always, thank you and thank you again.

We had a quiet weekend at home, with broiling sun to turn every one into the hue of a broiled lobster. Lizzie went on a day's sail on Sunday, which meant that I had to tote her to and from Sachem's Head whence she sailed; Yale is having its graduation, which means alumni who come in to see me for no good reason except the pleasant one of reminiscence. John farrar, the publisher, brought as a gift to the Library the project sheets and outlines of ANTHONY ADVERSE, which is certainly no very great shakes as a work of art, but which had a phenomenal publishing success as to make the book a point in history. It all adds up at any rate. I finished the little exhibition of Stephen Vincent enet, for what would have been his reunion and is the graduation of his son; people seem to like it, which is at any rate satisfying. Last night we took the girls to the Glee Club concert, which although the building was like an oven, was gay as a song-fest, and especially liked by little Susan who is on the glee club at Smith.

I have heard from René, and I believe we are to have a directors' meeting on the 29th. What do you think we should do about a public announcement of the gift to Marianne? I suppose René will know best about this, and may feel that it is good tax-policy to issue a brie statement to the press, in order to establish the honest intent of the Foundation. I shall leave such questions to him, unless you feel strongly on the matter. He tells me in his Saturday's letter that the State of New York did not like the residuary to be Yale or any specific organization, since the State would in an emergency say what was to be done with the money. Since René had already accepted this change, there was nothing to be done. Anyhow I doubt if it will ever matter, especially since the members have the right to split up the money amongst beneficiaries of their choosing if the end ever, so improbably, could come in view. But remind me to talk over all this with you when I see you at Kenwin.

All love to you from us both.