Dear Scott, Dearest Zelda

by F. Scott Fitzgerald

  In theory I tend to disagree with you about doing her harm to know where she stands. Scottie at her best is as she is now with a sense of responsibility and determination. She is at her absolute worst when she lies on her back and waves her feet in the air—so incapable of gratitude of things arranged for (the golf at Virginia Beach, for instance, or the moving picture stuff here) has been accepted as her natural right as a princess. I was sorry for the women of fifty who applied for that secretarial job in Baltimore in 1932— who had never before in their lives found that a home can be precarious. But I am not particularly sorry for a youngster who is thrown on his own at 14 or so and has to make his way through school and college, the old sink or swim spirit—I suppose, au fond, the difference of attitude between the North and the old South.

  Anyhow, we shall think of you and talk of you a lot and look forward to seeing you and wish you were with us. I will have done something by the time you get this about your expense money there.

   Dearest love,

  5521 Amestoy Avenue

  Encino, California

  245. TO SCOTT

  [August 1939]

  ALS, 2 pp.

  [Highland Hospital, Asheville, North Carolina]

  Dearest D. O.

  Scottie writes tales of glamorous swimming pools and strangers from the East; of driving lessons and divers interesting pursuits that make me as envious as possible. Bonne Chance!

  A tennis tournament is in progress here; at which I am glorifying myself the best I have to offer. It’s very exciting: and gives a more dynamic purpose to the afternoons; besides being very edifying as an exhibition of all the progress one has made at treading so many seasons into the hills.

  My painting is not as dynamic as it was some time ago; but I am expecting further inspiration at any moment. There are only 6 of the more portentious project accomplished: one on the canvas. By the end of next winter I expect to have at [least] twelve more finished. However, there isnt any money: I owe the Hospital $25 for the trip to Saluda, and indeed my financial estate is only possible to discuss in the most negative of terms.

  Dr. Carroll asked me to discuss with you plans for an autumn excursion. Dependent upon how much money there is, I want most urgently to go to Montgomery the first of September for a few weeks. Dr. Carroll is organizing a trip to the World’s Fair: but I know that it could ill be afforded at present, and I feel that Mamma has a right to whatever going I am able to contribute. The doctor says he will plan entirely according to whatever advice you write him: so please be specific. I do not want to take a nurse. It simply doubles the expenses, and is no longer necessary.

  Meantime take care of your health. I’m sorry about Ober. Was the break-up of a personal nature?21

   Devotedly

   Zelda

  246. TO ZELDA

  TL (CC), 1 p.

  August 16 1939

  Dearest:-

  I am glad Scottie made things sound smooth out here—actually the smoothness has been pretty superficial—a long struggle to make both ends meet. However, I AM ON SALARY FROM TODAY and if I can make a go of it (picture for Universal) the worst is over. I have been paying the grocer with short pieces for Esquire, meanwhile trying to get that detachment from physical and mental worries which is necessary for a good short story. There is one with the Post now which I hope will take us out of the red.

  Scottie had an exciting first two days because of the Princeton boys who waited to see her. Our neighbors filled up their little pool and all in all she hasn’t had a bad time but of course nothing like I have been able to give her in the past. I like her—she’s come up a long way from last year. She has been conscientiously learning to drive on a heavily mortgaged Ford and has been writing a short story which seems to me pretty darned good as well as doing lyrics for a musical show.

  Taking up the matters in your letter: I am writing Dr. Suitt in the same mail asking him to please do something about the swimming and that on Monday when the pay checks begin to arrive I will begin to get myself out of the red in the hospital. I repeat what I said before—that this catastrophe has not left us in that awful shape of 1936 and it even seems quite feasible that you will be able to go home to see your mother some time in September. I can’t promise about the 1st of September, but I am doing my absolute best to make life comfortable for us all.

  The World’s Fair trip would seem to be out in the immediate future. It would come at the end of a list of absolute necessities such as taxes, insurance, living expenses, Vassar tuition, and your trip to see your mother. If things break beautifully anything is possible but I do not see it as a possibility for the early Autumn. My own plan is to get East, if possible, in November for a while at least.

   Dearest love,

  5521 Amestoy Avenue

  Encino, California

  247. TO SCOTT

  [c. August 15, 1939]

  ALS, 3 pp.

  [Saluda, North Carolina]

  Dear Scott:

  I avail myself of this first opportunity to write you more frankly; while I am absent from the hospital.

  First: the hospital is very expensive and, from my most unbiased point of view, hospitalization is of no urgency in my case. Dr. Carroll to be literal, Dr. Suit in Carrolls name, himself advises less introspection, more company, less brooding and dreaming: as you know it is extremely difficult to obtain any sort of social priviledge from those authorities. Although they have been generous, considerate and kind for a long time, nevertheless it deprives one of the sense of independence and of the right of spontaneous decision to have signed warrants planned ahead, for the most inconsequential of actions—

  Mamma would be glad of company, and it would be a very constructive plan to let me visit her for 3 months beginning the first of Sept.

  Whats the use of wasting so much money—when you are not situated so that any such extravagance is possible to be conveniently borne

  Second: Scottie has a right to any sense of social warmth that her parents are able to convey; and even though she avails herself very little of the priviledge, I would like to be able to offer the kindness of a parental lodging.

  I hope things are not of a very revolutionary nature; or even a very drastic policy—because you promised me long ago, last spring, that you’d help me to get out of this confinement by the next fall—

  I’m spending two days in Saluda—It’s good to hear the woods buzzing at high-noon, and good to smell the good things on the morning air—

  I’m glad your summer is of a successful nature; and hope that you will find Scottie as engaging a companion as I did—

  Please let me go home—

   Devotedly

   Zelda

  Please answer discreetly.

  248. TO ZELDA

  TL (CC), 1 p.

  August 18 1939

  Dearest Zelda:-

  Got your letter from Saluda. Will absolutely try to arrange the Montgomery trip early in September. You letter made me sad, and I wish I could say “Yes, go where you want right away”—but it doesn’t take into consideration the situation here. I will be much better able to grapple with the problem and with Dr. Carrol two weeks from now. A severe illness like mine is liable to be followed by a period of shaky morale and at the moment I am concerned primarily with keeping us all alive and comfortable. I’m working on a picture at Universal and the exact position is that if I can establish their confidence in the next week that I am of value on this job it will relieve financial pressure through the fall and winter.

  Scottie is very pleasant and within the limits of her age, very cooperative to date—on the other hand, she’s one more responsibility, as she learns to drive and brings me her work and this summer there is no Helen Hayes to take her on a glamor tour of Hollywood. All of which boils down to the fact that my physical energy is at an absolute minimum without being definitely sick and I’ve got to conserve this for my work. I am as annoyed at the unreliability of the human body as you are at the vaga
ries of the nervous system. Please believe always that I am trying to do my best for us all. I have many times wished that my work was of a mechanical sort that could be done or delegated irrespective of morale, for I don’t want or expect happiness for myself—only peace enough to keep us all going. But your happiness I want exceedingly, just as I want Scottie’s safety.

  I am writing Dr. Carrol a long letter in a week’s time of which I will send you a carbon. I have already written Dr. Suitt about the swimming.

   With dearest love,

  5521 Amestoy Avenue

  Encino, California

  That fall, Zelda’s family pressured Scott to let her leave the hospital, and Zelda began to press him, as well. Scott, who was sick and totally broke, began to resent the constant intrusions—requests that he see to Zelda’s every need, in addition to urgings that new living arrangements be made for her. The tone of Zelda’s letters changed from the happy optimism that characterized the summer to loneliness as winter approached.

  249. TO SCOTT

  [Fall 1939]

  ALS, 4 pp.

  [Highland Hospital, Asheville, North Carolina]

  Dear Scott:

  I’m sorry about our present estate. So many years ago when we were first married and making Holiday about the Biltmore corridors, money was one of the things one simply stated the necessity for, went through the requisite ritual and waited. Now that 50¢ this way or that may, any day, begin to count it is become of vastly more relevance. In view of the fact that the war will probably make jobs a lot harder to get in California, wont you consider curtailing our expences as seems exigent? There is so little necessity for keeping me here: I would be of service in Montgomery besides being happy to be there, and keeping up two ménages is that much easier than keeping up three. Meantime, you promised me two years ago that you would pursue the matter of my going home. Time goes on, as you have perhaps remarked, and still I have no social status beyond that of a liability.

  I play tennis, and paint pictures and go to the movies. There is occasionally a party. Last week the Hospital gave a most entertaining folk-dancing festival; and, as you know, we climb mountains and brood. It’s an awfully nice place; do not think that I am ungrateful that I ask you most urgently to remember how long I have been devoting myself to the observance of the strictest of regimes: medical observation: and to remember that life is not an inexhaustible store of Efforts to no deeper purpose than that of ameliorating the immediate circumstance

  I too am most grateful to the Finneys for their courtesies to Scottie. Has her party been cancelled? She seemed very controlled and reconciled to whatever curtailment had to be made when she was here. She is really of a very judicious temperement and makes adverse adjustment with a most commendable philosophy.

  I suggested to you before that short of an actual job in Hollywood, this part of the world is far more conducive to good health: also it is cheaper—Why dont you consider it again?

  Outside of offering suggestions, I am not in a position to be of any assistance—

  Colleeen Moore’s22 dolls-house is now on exhibit in Ashville. I remember a most depressing evening of sitting around her house while people withheld their approbrium until they had placed what was wrong with each other—It would no doubt have made interesting reminiscence had I not forgot all save the aura of House-detective that pervaded the gathering

   Devotedly

   Zelda

  250. TO SCOTT

  [Fall 1939]

  ALS, 2 pp.

  [Highland Hospital, Asheville, North Carolina]

  Dear D. O:

  It rains; and sleets; and is indeed as malevolent a time as ever attacked. The hills are steeped in cosmic regrets and the valleys are flooded with morose and aimless puddles.

  However, the stores bloom and blossom and ingratiate themselves with the brightest of spring-times and the newest of aspirations. The drugstores are still fragrant of chocolate and aromatic of all sorts of soaps and bottled miracles. This town is so redolent of hushed rendézvous: I always think of you when I wait in Faters for the bus or hang around Eckerts before a movie—or even after a movies, thus making orgy.

  “The Hunchback of Notre Dame”23 is the most magnificent fusion of music and action and the significance of lines that I have seen. The acting is far more than usually compelling: and the orchestration does not confine itself to the music but includes the whole performance.

  There does not seem to be any news: which some people think of in terms of an advantage, but which, to me, presents itself vaguely in terms of disaster. Well anyway we’re better off than the Finns + the Russians.24

  I cant understand about your stories. The school that you started and the vogue which you began are still dictating the spiritual emulation of too many people for your work to be irrelevant: and certainly the tempo of the times ought to bring you some success.

  Would it be a good idea if you tried Harold Ober again? That seems to me a most sensible way of handling the situation: Ober knows so much better than anybody else how to handle your work.

   Devotedly

   Zelda

  Peter Liddle might be a lucky nom-de-plume.25

  251. TO ZELDA

  [Fall 1939]

  AL (draft), 9 pp.26

  [Encino, California]

  Dearest Zelda:

  It is two in the morning. I have been sleeping since ten. All day I’ve been working on a novel for which the magazine publishers have agreed to back me if they like the first twelve thousand words. It looks like a way out and Im putting everything I have into it. At twelve the mail came but certain letters I put aside unopened as I’ve done for a week—letters of quiet abuse from your family.

  I am not very well—one lung is all gone now and I broke two fingers in the hand writing this when I tried to lift off my bed-desk by myself last Saturday. But of course that is all a secret because if the magazine knew I was not quite well it wouldn’t help me write the novel. I care about the novel but not especially about anything else anymore. That a fifty dollar ticket to Montgomery would in some way purchase your eternal mental health is a proposition I will not debate. I wont even debate it with Dr Carrol—if he says it will, then Godspeed you. I should think that before Christmas—if I can get some peace—you could go south (to Montgomery) for a long trip with supervision. But the other story is too dreary—what would you do—because if you did go on your own I would fold up completely— for paints or amusements or clothes? Scottie would have to work + not be able to send you much for some time. Id lie very quietly in my grave out here but I think the spectre of you walking the streets of Montgomery in rags as the last of the Sayres, followed by curious urchins, would haunt me.

  There’d be no one to help—even Newman hid behind his wife’s skirts in an emergency. Just a horrible death in life.

  For, Zelda, if you were capable of organizing anything you would do it there. What would I not give for the right to leisure—have you ever known me to have it? To be well, to be kept well, to have my pencil + paper bought for me, to not think of taxes and insurance and other peoples health and bringing up a child. I’d love to wake up some morning once and say: No cares today, no debts, no money-lenders, no mental prostitution, nothing between me and my canvas except my hand—and that well, not broken—the little finger trails across this page. I am not sorry for you this time—I envy you. And I am infinitely more sorry for my expiring talent which you tell me will be helped “by releasing you.” That is equivalent to the great peace I should find if Scottie begged to contribute to the family fortunes by entering a steel mill or a whore-house.

  You are a darling sometimes—I cant claim this distinction—but unfortunately you have given no signs that you can be anything more. And being a darling isn’t enough. You’ve got to have the energy to sell your pictures—I can’t forever find you Cary Rosses— and to live a literary life outside of mine. And where is that energy to proceed from? Are you to find it in Montgomery conversing with th
e shades of Mrs Mckinney? It is all right to conceive of life in terms of a vast nostalgia if it has an artistic purpose, or if it is a personal idiosyncracy like collecting old coins—but the world wont permit it unless it is self supporting. It’s a luxury that even the rich, now, can scarcely afford. We—we consumptives, mistaken people, workers, die-ers, we must live—not at your expence, God knows, but in spite of you. We have our tombstones to chisel—and can’t blunt our tools stabbing you back, you ghosts, who can’t either clearly remember or cleanly forget.

  I would rather do what I did in August—club the whole archaic Brenda Fraser27 idea out of Scottie’s mind, but separating her from her roommate—and have her indignation forever, than present the picture of a brood of unmatured pigs sucking at my nipples forever. If this be treason make the most of it. As a fighter, if she were contemporary, I admire your mother. In her present rôle of sinister old witch, I think she adds no dignity to anyone’s stature. Why doesn’t she get Tilde home? Or Rosalind?

  Do you think she cares or ever has cared about you or your impersonal interest? Do you think she would ever quarrel with you for your impersonal good? She constructed herself on a heroic romantic model as a girl and you were to be the stuffed dummy—true or false, screwed or chaste, honest or bogus,—on which she was to satisfy her egotism. She chose me—and she did—and you submitted at the moment of our marriage when your passion for me was at as low ebb as mine for you—because she thought romanticly that her projection of herself in you could best be shown thru me. I never wanted the Zelda I married. I didn’t love you again till after you became pregnant. You—thinking I slept with that Bankhead—making all your drunks innocent + mine calculated till even Town Topics28 protested. I’d been drunk, sure—but find any record of me as a drunk at Princeton—or in the army, except one night when I retired to the locker room. You were the drunk—at seventeen, before I knew you—already notorious.