“Then Miss Rudge,227 … Then Mrs. Pound…” As if they were secretaries.
Well, “many a noble heart mourned the loss of those old trees…” remember I got that from Palgrave, up in Castine.228 Can’t wait to get there. Going I think on Sunday to Maine … Just heard from Vinny McGee, a new friend, going to jail as a draft resister … Some people think Columbia won’t even open, no money … I don’t believe it … I really want to get a job at Yale, year after this, because I think it would be fun. Also Harriet and I have Francine’s Connecticut house until New Year’s, after New Year’s really, and we plan to go up for weekends. She says she doesn’t want to come to England at Christmas. Not ready. Maybe Easter. But she will come some day, when she can face it.… Dearest love, always,
Elizabeth
57. Robert Giroux to Mr. Charles Monteith
Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 19 Union Square West, New York, N.Y.
July 9, 1970
PRIVATE & CONFIDENTIAL
Dear Charles:
Shortly after your letter arrived this week, Elizabeth phoned to tell me that Cal was in a nursing home. The whole continental literary set is now in the act. It was Mary McCarthy who phoned Elizabeth from Paris; she had spoken to Cal the day before and thought he was “high” (it is not always so easy to tell). Then Sonia Orwell (I don’t know her present married name)229 phoned Elizabeth and wanted her to come over and take Cal home; it’s not that simple, however. Elizabeth knows she could not persuade him and that he might even react badly. His being in the nursing home is the best news of all. From my experience I would judge that the longer he stays, the better. It takes a little time for him to get down from the heights, and then the depression follows. If he agreed to go into the nursing home (this was not made clear), he’s headed for recovery through insight about his own need for quiet and rest. It’s when he’s footloose, over-drinking and over-talking, encouraged by people who have no suspicion of the boiling volcano beneath the apparently controlled and sometimes even sweet exterior, that the fireworks begin.
Elizabeth said she phoned Mrs. Nolan, who refused to pass a message to Sidney. He of course works wonders with Cal, as indeed I saw with my own eyes that night at the opera some years ago. The doctors really don’t seem to know what to do for Cal. Elizabeth is getting the name of the London doctor and will put Dr. Baum230 (I believe that’s her name) in touch with him. When Sidney and I delivered Cal to her on the memorable night at the opera, Dr. Baum said, “Cal, how can you act like this? Think what people will say about me.”
I don’t know of anything you can do, Charles, beyond what you’ve already done. Elizabeth is taking Harriet to Castine in Maine for the remainder of the summer. She feels she has to go on as best as she can for the girl’s sake, and I know she’ll do whatever is required. I’m writing Cal, in your care, by this mail merely to tell him I’m vacationing in France and will be in England. I’ll see him (I’m giving Faber as my address) only if he wants it and there’s something I can do.
Friday, August 14th, is fine for me, and I’ll come by at 12:15 to see you and Peter and Matthew. As for Oxford, I’ll make certain to plan for a better time than August on my next trip. Incidentally, I’m delighted that you are taking on the Peter Handke novel, THE GOALIE’S ANXIETY AT THE PENALTY KICK.231 I’m sending Matthew the book of his we have already published, KASPAR AND OTHER PLAYS.232
Yours ever,
[Bob] Robert Giroux
* * *
p.s. Thanks for corrected proofs—what a lot of work! It may well be his best book. Even that latest (and saddest) poem, “Wall Mirror,” is very moving.233
58. Elizabeth Hardwick to Robert Lowell
[15 West 67th Street, New York, N.Y.]
July 11, 1970
Darling Cal: How strange it is, making calls from here at 6 in the morning. But that is the time I wake up, and I love the mornings. I am very anxious to go up to Maine. There were just so darned many things to be done here that I couldn’t get away before. Mary tells me it is beautiful up there. The Thomases234 called to wonder where I was … tennis doubles waiting. I played once as I told you in Connecticut, in a humid indoor place, like having a heat stroke, but it was fun. I must say I am no better.…
I found yesterday, in going over my papers, a portrait I had done of Dorothea and Ivor Richards.235 It is quite good—oddly enough I have tried these posterity efforts before and they were quite always dull. It occurred to me that it had to do with the fact that I really was writing about people I knew too well, and somehow there was too little and too much, as Henry James said of writing about places.236 Certain limits on the knowledge of the place are a genuine help … I may try a few more, although I am not especially in line for posthumous acclaim since I feel I need so much right this minute … not acclaim, but good work to be published to keep me going.
Saw Stanley on the bus a little while ago. He looked fairly well and then I spoke to them before they went away,237 but that was some time ago. I enclose a card from Adrienne.238 Just the usual dumb mail, anthologies—all being saved here somewhere or another, requests for interviews by absurd sociologists on insane projects, two poems sent for your criticism, as if God himself could say anything about a few lines.…
Dearest, don’t feel that the lithium has let you down because of this set back. I guess you have put it to the ultimate test. It will work, it does work.… Bill Alfred said that if by any chance you should want to come back here this year, the second term at Harvard would be free since Elizabeth239 and Fitzgerald240 are both teaching the first term … I have no reason to think you would want that, but just wanted to pass the word along. You know how I am! I just found in an old notebook, also (all of these things are going with me to help with my Kentucky life of myself) the old baseball phrase: “Nice guys finish last!”241 and that would seem to fit me, at least at the moment and in certain respects. If I knew, right now, how not to be nice I would not be, but can’t seem to find the occasions. (Naturally I am joking. My own awareness of the limits of my “niceness” is alive.)
Things have settled down here in the US, in a way at least, an odd way. There isn’t anything to be done. Nixon is so empty and has so appallingly failed at everything. One just sits back. The economic difficulties everywhere are the most absorbing I guess, since we have made the world numb to destruction and death. Incredible story someone was telling me yesterday about all the rich people selling out in the Caribbean, leaving vast beach houses at Jamaica, etc. Bob tells me there is a charming piece coming in the next issue by Naipaul on Black Power in Trinidad. I read a line or two, which told of their the black people waiting for the great African chieftain, Hailie Selassie, the Lion of Judah, on his visit, only to find that he looked like a little East Indian!242
Dearest, warmest greetings to you from me and everyone, if there were any one here to send his greetings. Much love, my dear old fellow. Will write or call you again soon.
Elizabeth Castine, Maine 207-326-8786
59. Caroline Blackwood to Robert Lowell
[Unknown Address243]
[n.d. summer 1970]
Darling Cal—I think about you every minute of the day, and I love you every minute of the day. Have just got your letter. You are right to object to me calling it “your” sickness.244 It is mine. Or ours. That is the trouble. I know it is better if I don’t see you or speak to you until your attack is over even though I really long to and without you everything seems hollow, boring, unbearable. I still feel as if I am under some kind of emotional anaesthetic and can’t plan or think. But that will change. I feel in an odd way and against obvious appearances that everything is going to be alright. But not immediately[.] As you say we got across the Godstow Marsh and manipulated that endless Military Road, and we reached Hadrian’s wall.
“Marriage?” [Marriage 9 5], from “The Dolphin” manuscript, composed and revised between 1970 and January 1972 (cf. “Marriage?” [Caroline 4], The Dolphin).
Are you working? Have you got
enough books etc? I will get any letters that you send to Redcliffe Square. I enclose a copy of Wall Mirror that you said you wanted. At the moment I feel really sub-humanly low.245
Love Caroline.
60. Elizabeth Hardwick to Robert Lowell
[Castine, Maine]
July 14, 1970
Dear Cal: Just a word from Maine. Very hot and beautiful, clear and shining. Played tennis yesterday with the old group. The drive up was hard, but I went first to Boston to spend the night and dined at the Athens246 with Bill Alfred and with Peter Brooks, who was back fixing up their house for rental a second year. That was wonderful and we almost walked back to Cambridge. But how strange Harvard Square is, so over-populated with dirty, naked kids this summer, with a glazed look about them. Filth in the entrance to The Coop, around the plaza at the Holyoke Center. I began to see what Esther meant, how because it is so small one could see it as menacing to the sanity of young children somehow[.] New York, Central Park, the village—it’s all too big, people don’t mix with strangers and so that seems different. Boston fascinated me.
Here, Mary is settled in gaily, the Dupees are arriving tonight, Rahv is coming in August. On the Vineyard, he sold Theo’s beautiful house with a splendid garden, something she had always owned and which was a magnificent, expensive property right on the water, very much Theo. The day or two after the lease was signed, it burned to the ground. Chilling, isn’t it? Not a thing of Theo is left was the thought of everyone.247 She’s gone, utterly.
Well, you are certainly not gone from here. Your red wool shirt, your black and white checked wool, your sneakers, your dungarees, your bed in the barn and up here, your field glasses, your old muddy boots …248 It’s all like a Hardy poem.249 Birds are nesting in the house down there and up here. The trellis with the dutchman’s pipe vine absolutely collapsed, something before I came, and I am just staring at it, thinking about the next step.
I wonder how you are. The telephone calls to England became rather upsetting to me and they are unbelievably expensive and so I won’t make them unless I’m asked to.250 I write to support you, if you are feeling upset, and to say that Harriet and I feel millions of miles away, almost as if we had never known you. I am sure you feel the same about us.… I hope you get the Salmagundi I sent you, with the very good article by Robert Boyers.251 I haven’t much else to say. My mail hasn’t started coming from New York, but I am busy and happy here, having a very good time, making the house cozy for that cold day that will surely come soon. I am working at writing and that is what I want to do. The weather is lovely. Can’t wait until August 15th and Harriet comes back. Mr. Soper252 wanders about, the Thomases have re-done their house, and it is very pretty. Your barn is beautiful. I’ll have the Dupees for a drink in the sun there so that they can see it. Grass growing on the lawn, bulkhead standing after terrible storms, Sally’s house lovely, Pat all over Water Street, with bikes and so forth. Bob’s large boat in the harbor. Booths present and heavy somehow.253
Well, I would like some word from you, about you, if you care to send it.
With much love,
Lizzie
61. Elizabeth Hardwick to Robert Lowell
[Castine, Maine]
July 16, 1970
Darling: It was good to hear your voice. It is a rainy, or misty day, here and I can’t say I mind altogether. Tremendous activity, as you can imagine, with Mary here. Cocktail party for the Dupees and then I have them all back here for dinner. I had everyone, and the Dupees, after tennis at the barn yesterday, with the fire going, a great wind outside. Very nice. In addition now to the dubious liberation of feeling I can drive the freeways of the US at any hour, I now feel no worry at all about staying here alone at night. I just want a night at home, mostly, to read and go to bed early.
There isn’t much to say today. If you ever need to telephone me do at 11 to 12 in the morning your time! that will be six or seven in the a.m. here and I will certainly be at home.… But we won’t telephone unless there is something to say. I feel a bit strange sending off letters in the blue and I called you just to be sure they weren’t a bother. I just want to give you any support, or whatever would be better to call it, that you might need right now.
Be sure to tell the hospital to send the bills here, and the doctor. You have a new man at the State Street.254 I have his name written down someplace. Mr. Loring retired, and Mr. Nichols hasn’t really been on your “account” for a while, some years. Darling, I’ll have more to say in a day or two. Forgive this dull letter. But I send greetings and love and good wishes to you. Bear up and all will be well. I have faith in that and want you to have faith. Not cant, either, but based on my own knowledge and observation and rather large experience.
Dearest love,
Elizabeth
62. Elizabeth Hardwick to Robert Lowell
[Castine, Maine]
July 20, 1970
Dear Cal: I enclose this review, in case you haven’t seen it.255 I hope you are well. Castine is lovely, very warm and clear and I have had a lovely time so far. Senator McCarthy’s secretary called today but I said you were in England and not expected back here. Didn’t speak to him. Perhaps he is coming up. Mary and I would have loved to see him, but I didn’t feel I could ask to speak to him personally.
You seem so far away, letters are becoming difficult. Harriet is having a good time at camp I think.
Love,
Lizzie
63. Elizabeth Hardwick to Robert Lowell256
[Castine, Maine]
Tuesday, July 21, 1971 [1970]
Darling: My typewriter is locked completely, carriage won’t budge. I want to send this off early. Cal, dear, would you like me to come over to help you get back on your feet & do what you want? Honey, telephones are ringing day & night here, with calls for help (not ringing at my house, at others).257 It is felt dearest that you are not well enough to come out of the hospital, that you are still very high & not the deep, serious Robert Lowell we all love. You will be all right, love—no one knows that better than I. If you want me—with so many people out of London—to sit with you, talk to you, make some order in your practical affairs there, and it must be made, I will, for a short time because I really haven’t long before I get Harriet from camp. Cable or call me Friday or Saturday. I would do this as a friend, as help if possible for my child’s father. Naturally I don’t want to come, am happy here. But I know I can help, Dearest love & just forget this offer if you don’t want it. Do call—your time—between 11 or 12 in the morning or send a cable. I could only stay ten days at the most but I could try to help & talk to you about your general business arrangements—And bring you news of here, maybe talk about interesting things, your work, etc,
Dearest love,
E.
* * *
This is good faith, not wife-maneuver. If I had wanted to do that I could have months ago—at least tried.
64. Elizabeth Hardwick to Robert Lowell
[Castine, Maine]
July 28, 1970
Dear old heart: I liked talking to you.258 My tears welled up when Phil259 brought a great bouquet of flower-weeds, straight from the dump, as he said. Mary has been a devoted, imaginative friend, so sweet and good to me and I will love her always. It has been a perfect summer here, boiling hot, lively, gay tennis games, friends for drinks. Bob and Barbara calling me with kindness and love from New York. Harriet, too, has had the really astonishing devotion of her friends. Lisa went to the camp the first visiting weekend and last weekend, Melissa and her parents, who were visiting Melissa not far away went to see Harriet. Both people described her as looking very beautiful, with her face lighting up with gratitude for the visits, the efforts made, the loyalty. It is an 8 or 9 hour trip from here and of course I couldn’t go. I dread going down and coming back on the 16th, when I go to pick up her to return to Castine for the rest of August, but I will go a day early and spend one or two nights with Olga or Francine. She H./ is very distressed to live without a fat
her, day in and day out, especially painful is to be deprived for ever of an extraordinary father, an unforgettable, strange man. Daddy is so funny, she says, with his silent laughter!
There is a black bear in town!260 Hanging about the manor!261 Rev. Ed Miller is puzzling over things, but I notice he withheld his perfect enthusiasm from a discussion of Bill Coffin and the wonderful Bishop Moore. Asking one saint about another is like asking George Ortman about Robert Motherwell. All my love, my dearest Cal.
Elizabeth
65. Elizabeth Hardwick to Mary McCarthy262
[London]
Sunday, Aug. 2, 1970
Mary, dearest: I’ll just send off this note instead of a cable, since you have all the other addresses.
Clive Hotel
Primrose Hill Road
London, NW 3, England263
It is very depressing here somehow & I realize again how happy it was for me in Castine. Cal has several more corners to turn before the realization that he has had a bad time really comes to him, but I think the next two or three weeks will do that. He is in awful shape physically, can only go about for an hour at the most & then just collapses. I will see the Dr. tomorrow. I am sure the thyroid is a problem.264 I was unable to hold back tears watching him creep along, exhausted. Sonia is unbearable. She met us265 at the town air terminal & between there & the hotel—quite nice, next to Cal’s hospital—did not let me say one word. At hotel coffee ordered & I said I don’t want coffee I want to see Cal for God’s sake & went off next door where he was waiting. I just hope she will keep away while Bill & I are here, but I doubt it. Had the feeling she was rushing back to town in two days!
The Dolphin Letters, 1970-1979 Page 12