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For the moment I have borrowed a bit from this ‘fine fellow’ Taylor, now in Paris but should be back here any day. Don’t worry over that, it is the sort of exchange that straightens itself out, and he a good fellow (Harvard ’40) and a friend, and I very fortunate to have encountered him.
The holidays passed in order, for myself if not for the People, who raised unshirted hell for 7 or 8 days & nights, beating drums and singing in the streets. Heavens. But got through, and now 1949 discovers me 26. oh dear. Life is very long. On NewYrs day, walking through the city, I stopped in at a large church where a great ceremony was going on (I believe that it is the Feast of the Circumcision), a priest passing up and down a baby-doll which for all I could see the pious populace kissed; but all the while music: an organ & voices, a violin, & tamborines! Such splendid, happy music; & quite unlike the doleful Mrs Damon (?) in Berlin’s First Congregational.
And so, a Happy New Year, while we are on the subject, to All.
These things I wonder: Did you get a letter from Gibraltar? Has John Snow managed to get blankets, sheets, dirty shirts & Nancy’s Idiot up to you? (I haven’t written him, and am somewhat concerned, he was in such mortal coil when I left).
Needless to say, your letters shocked me. I mean, the business about the picture-taker on the quay; oh dear, such a business, I am embarrassed at the memory of that Queen Elizabeth gesture. But Stella & Bill; she is kind, and that is just like Bill, to be an unbearable presence & then come through with the really spontaneous kind gesture, why with all the fury and sudden-ness that has passed between us, I find the attachment great; because he means so well, and has no idea of how to go about any execution except suddenly, as this, he manages. As for Miss Parke & Mr Waugh. oh dear, or gracious. Of course you know that with all the sudden cringing on my head when I read it, there was the accompanying vain Delight at being called to the attention of the Great, in any fashion. And so now, Evelyn Waugh actually knows that I exist. I had intended to accomplish this in another fashion, xx(sic) the dark day that he picked up my first novel and sat aghast with admiration—still have a hysterical intention on my part (and let me say, I have had recent thoughts on an idea which I think might even shock Him—such an ambition: to shock Evelyn Waugh. Anyhow the whole incident is jolly (I do wonder What she told him about me) and at 3000miles’ distance I relish it. She is so kind too, they all are, we all mean well.
Item) I have sent a story (the one I worked from the Costa Rica piece, at Woodburn’s last summer, and wrote here during the holidays) to Congdon; hope to heaven he gets it (dealing, as it did, with ‘controversial material’); asked him to let me know here if anything favourable, otherwise to send it on to you with an note which you might forward, and just tuck the story away somewhere & forget it.
Item) Among the books I have brought is the incomparable South Wind; and in the usual spirit, I should like so to give a copy to Miss Williams, who plans to sail for Italy I think on the 12th or the 20th. Could you get her a nice copy, have it sent to her before departure, such a splendid book for the boring days of ocean-travel. I wrote & told her I would try to get a copy to her. It is Miss Margaret Williams/ 439 East 86th/ NYC28. Holiday Bookstore at 49th & Lex I think had a nice copy. Would it be a good idea to call her, to see if she is still in town by the time this letter reaches you? It is TR6-4739. I should appreciate this immensely if it can be managed.
Needless, again, to say, Madrid presents many temptations to the eye of the foreigner hungry to buy Things. And so for my birthday I bought a pair of cufflinks. Of course there is the frantic American notion, of wanting to send half the city back to friends. Though I see few things, to tell the truth, as yet, that are just what anyone wants. The inevitable mantillas, &c. But for the man, oh dear, the Things. This morning I bought a pair of much-needed gloves, about 2$, but beautiful, I have never had a pair to fit like these, and soft fine leather (& such style in the glove shop: a plush cushion on which I put my elbow, while the young lady pulled the gloves down over my hand with much ceremony. . . not Brooks Bros). It is strange, some things so cheap, and some so outlandishly expensive. Imagine (don’t imagine too much; it is not a problem with me:) a pint bottle of brandy costing less than a package of cigarettes. But get this: many of the men in Spain wear capes, fine black affairs with red or green lining, and up about the lower part of the face with the red flaming over the shoulder. Well. You may picture my excitement & temptation at that! And the most recent object, looked at in the shop window with eyes like the urchin outside the pastry-shop, a walking stick, brown sort of bamboo, with a silver ferrule and topped by the carved head of an old disgruntled man. 2nd or 3rd hand certainly, but beautiful, and badly priced. But I guess it will always be there—it would take someone with imagination (sic) to carry it! And the shop is in the Calle del Disengaño, the Street of Disillusion. Isn’t that wonderful (& un-American).
And so. I walk much of the time, so that by yesterday my feet were really quite sore. I have been over most of Madrid I believe, the crooked narrow streets & the fine ones, the great & very formal park, a look at the tremendous pile which is the nacional palace, nobody lives there, and the streets, the streets. Quite chilly still, very in fact, so I keep moving, often get lost because the streets turn so. But the walking is the best cathartic, I agree with Mr Bean there. Have taken to wearing my fine Davega tennis-shoes, which call glances from passers-by, but otherwise I look quite like the people, they are not dark, as the popular conception of Spaniards, in the north here.
Well, Nancy. I can imagine the sort of disappointment you mean; and it is strange, because of the picture of her as one who Does Things—and I don’t mean Emmet Fox (who he? Another victim of Old Testament morality) because she has that aspect of being Alive, and I know, you must begin to wonder, when things continue to fail to work out for those people. (Perhaps she should settle down and practice “that Taoist art of disintegration which Yen Hui described to Confucius as ‘the art of sitting and forgetting’”. . .) Anyhow my best greetings to her, Something, must come.
As for Christmas, I didn’t know it was to be at Janice’s; just as glad I didn’t know: and your very brief description brings the whole thing into the room. But I must confess to some loneliness here, even for such atmosphere (though I can imagine how I should have felt there, thinking of Spain. . .) For the Woodburns, I haven’t written them, shall in a few days when I have more ‘material’, have thought of them often, still regretting missing them, and do greatly hope that things are going well for them each & both, I do like them each & both so much, and they have been so kind, as people, to me.
And hope that you are well, & happy, getting more from life than Mr. Fox.
with love,
W.
innocent abroad: Mark Twain’s Innocents Abroad (1869) is a satirical travel book about Europe.
“So here I am [...] squads of emotion”: the opening lines of part 5 of “East Coker” (1940), the second of Eliot’s Four Quartets.
Bergson: Henri Bergson (1859–1941), French philosopher, perhaps best known for his book Laughter (1901); in WG’s library there is a French edition of that book inscribed “W. Gaddis San Jose, CR 1948,” along with Bergson’s Creative Evolution and Creative Mind.
Tennessee Williams: the American dramatist (1911–83) was at the height of his fame following the great success of A Streetcar Named Desire in 1947.
the Myth: probably a reference to Denis de Rougemont’s Love in the Western World (1940), one of WG’s source-books for R. Chapter 2 of book 1 is entitled “The Myth,” on the European celebration of passion, especially adulterous passion, over married love, despite its connection with the death instinct.
‘a cheap sentimental humanism [...]: Connolly’s phrase: see letter of 4 May 1948.
Lady blonde: staying at a pension in Madrid, Wyatt (renamed Stephan at this point) gets involved with a blonde “flashy piece of goods” named Marga (R 797).
Ortega y Gasset: in R WG occasionally quotes from his Re
volt of the Masses (1930), a call for the benevolent rule of an intellectual elite to counter the deleterious influence of the masses on art and government.
Calderon de la Barca: one of his best-known plays, La Vida es Sueño, is quoted a few times in R, in Spanish.
heavy heavy hangs over our heads: source unknown.
Walker Evans: American photographer (1903–75), who WG later said was the physical model for Wyatt in R.
about 6$: about $57.00; in 1949, $1 had the buying power of $9.50 today.
Life is very long: a phrase from part 5 of Eliot’s “The Hollow Men” (1925) that WG will quote occasionally.
Mrs Damon [...] Berlin’s First Congregational: in R, the organist of the First Congregational Church is named “Miss Ardythe, who had attacked the organ regularly since a defrauding of her maidenhead at the turn of the century” (14).
mortal coil: a phrase from Hamlet (3.1.69; “coil” meaning “turmoil”).
Stella & Bill: unidentified.
Miss Parke & Mr Waugh: presumably a friend of WG’s who visited Waugh (who was in NYC in December 1948) and told him of WG’s work in progress.
story [...] Costa Rica piece: in the summer of 1947 WG wrote an account of the Costa Rican revolution entitled “Cartago: Sobró con Quien” and a short story entitled “A Father Is Arrested,” posthumously published in the Missouri Review 27.2 (November 2004): 109–16.
South Wind : a hedonistic novel (1917) by British novelist Norman Douglas (1868–1952), set on the Capri-like island of Nepenthe.
Miss Williams: Margaret Williams (1924–2004). In a 1993 interview with Charles Monaghan, WG’s old friend Ormonde de Kay said of her: “Margaret Williams was a really live-wire, wonderful, very pretty American girl, very bright, who is now married to Bob Ginna, who used to be editor-in-chief, I think, of Little, Brown for a while, and is now sort of a freelance. Lives in Jaffrey, New Hampshire. And she does, too. Margaret was his [Gaddis’s] great love, at that time anyway” (http://www.williamgaddis.org/reminisce/remdekaymonaghan.shtml). A graduate of Vassar, she worked in journalism and book publishing as well.
Emmet Fox: (1886–1951), Irish-born American spiritual leader and self-help author.
“that Taoist art [...] forgetting’”: from p. 79 of More Trivia (Harcourt Brace, 1921), a short book of aphoristic observations by the American-born English essayist Logan Pearsall Smith (1865– 1946). Quoted in R (925).
Janice’s: one of WG’s aunts.
To Edith Gaddis
Madrid
[January 1949]
dear Mother.
[...] It is strange; but thank heavens, every day I am more glad to have come here. Still at logger-heads with the language, but can carry on a fair conversation now (though still trouble because I don’t know too many words) and struggling through some reading; besides working on the same ideas that have preöccupied me for the last 2years. And walking until now I have stopped for a while since the feet are temporarily collapsed. More trips to the Museo del Prado, where the paintings never cease to be exciting—my new inspiration, tutelary genius &c being Heironymus Bosch (I think orig. Flemish) whom you may see at the Met. too (they have 2 of his paintings) if you want some idea of the strange lands my mind is wandering now. I have bought a fine book on him, splendid reproductions & not too difficult Spanish.
Your 2 letters with enclosures recieved; & herewith I return in kind—the photo is Escorial where I passed Christmas day; the other a concert last Sunday morning, they have them here from 11:30 to 1:30 which is splendid (camara means chamber), the Bach & Haydn wonderful (and your comment anent the Schönberg arrangement of Bach Chorale Preludes NOT appreciated here, really what is more magnificent music? Eh bien. But the case of Antheil is an interesting one, he was very brilliant in youth, great friend of Ezra Pound, wrote a thing (Ballet Mechanique) scored for a dozen or so pianos & aeroplane propellors, very exciting; but then seems to have let down, not fulfilled his great promise (except perhaps to avant-guard & intelligent musicians who ‘understand’ him, but not (including myself) for the multitude.) For the other enclosures, safely got & thanks; next time, will you please send two cashierchecks. Just now I am involved in matters with the Spanish Police, getting or trying to get a two-year resident visa (does that sound alarming) and with my linguistic equipment you may imagine there are some highly entertaining (to a disinterested observer) frustrations. We usually end up shaking hands and saying it is cold in Madrid, which everybody understands.
Of course there is always more to say, to write; a few nights ago a juerga (pron. wher′ -ga) which is half or a dozen people sitting all night in a small room while one plays guitar, one sings flamenco (the most beautiful wailing songs, of sadness & violence, gypsys, one ending sangre negra en mi corazon: black blood in my heart. Well, Spain. It is all splendid, but better promises ever to be more so. (& I must add, I bought that walking-stick.) And love to you,
W.
Heironymus Bosch: Hieronymus, Dutch painter (1450?–1516). WG was particularly taken by his tabletop painting The Seven Deadly Sins, which plays a major role in R.
Schönberg: the Austrian-born composer Arnold Schoenberg (1874–1951) published these orchestral arrangements in 1922.
Antheil: American composer George Antheil (1900–59). His Ballet Mécanique dates from 1924, and makes prominent use of the player piano.
juerga: Stephan (Wyatt) presides at a juerga on p. 802 of R.
sangre negra [...] my heart: Wyatt hears a flamenco singer utter this line on p. 110 of R.
To Edith Gaddis
Madrid
24 January 49
dear Mother.
This being not a letter but the usual perennial request for things. Some of which may sound rather odd.
I First, books. If you could get these, & send them air-express, that is apparently the only satisfactory way. & marked GIFT very plainly.
1. The White Goddess, by Robert Graves.
2. [Crossed out:] The Golden Bough, by —Frazer (Brentano had this in a good reprint for under 3$; if that is available; certainly don’t break your neck to get it, & if that reprint isn’t at hand it will be hard. [Handwritten: No—see below.] The Frazer book is too big. But could you do this: borrow your friend’s copy; turn to page 569—and from there copy what it says about a tribe that rids itself of evil spirits by driving them into a monkey, which is then put to death.
3. (Here is a horrible admission: ) Hugo’s Simplified Spanish.
You understand, these are just books I very much want but will live without; only if you can do it quietly & conveniently.
II Could you find this information (I think by calling the Mus of Natural History, they are very good about such:) On the Barbary ape (formerly native of Gibraltar)—its approximate size (male); colouring; how it survives captivity; usual longevity; diet in captivity; is it tail-less?; fierce? extinct (if so when); & any distinctive peculiarities. & also what sounds it makes (alone, in captivity).
Thank you very much. Good luck. &c.
And then, when may expect, being a remittance-man, the remittance? I count hopefully on the 10th, as last mo. Money is a problem. Life is very long.
A good letter from Barney, who has recently had clothing & typewriter stolen; good letter from Bernie, who is working with displaced persons, quite low about the whole picture; good letter from Juancho, who tells me to get out of Madrid; good letter from Jake.
Insane letter from Miss Williams. Did you lunch? Isn’t she attractive. Nice. Rather dissociated, as it were. Her trip to Paris sounds terrifying; perhaps she will meet a frog on the boat & marry? oh dear.
I shall write.
Love,
W.
The White Goddess: a wide-ranging study of mythology, tree symbolism, and Celtic poetry (1948), a major sourcebook for R. Later in 1949 WG visited the British author (1895–1985), who was living on the island of Majorca off the coast of Spain.
The Golden Bough [...] page 569: this is the block quotation that appear
s on page 49 of R, describing a custom of the Garos of Assam (India). WG had requested Frazer’s book earlier: see 29 April 1947.
Hugo’s Simplified Spanish: Hugo’s Spanish Simplified (David McKay, 1925, often reprinted).
Barbary ape: in the first chapter of R, Rev. Gwyon brings back a Barbary ape from Gibraltar, names it Heracles, and later sacrifices it à la the Garos to cure Wyatt’s illness.
To Edith Gaddis
Madrid
15 February 49
dear Mother.
Many thanks—for going all the way to Bronx Zoo! Heavens; I thought it would be easier accomplished than that.
For myself at the moment I am frantically making plans—any plans—to get out of Madrid; because for the time at any rate I have ceased to learn anything here. And pursuant to the usual troubles of money am trying my best to get into a monastery for a while—where I suppose some small board will be charged but it would enable me to “catch up.” The trouble being that today Spain’s monasteries are crowded, and they apparently like to take in “visitors” for only 4 or 5 days. Nevertheless I am in touch with a Franciscan order to the south, and what with the efforts of a very kind girl here at the Instituto de Culturo Hispanico I think—hope—that within a week I shall be able to go. The trouble of course started when I discovered in this fellow Bill Taylor such a ready friend, and willing to “advance” me a bit when I arrived here short. And then another “friend” of the opposite order who under the pretence—well-intentioned though it might have been—of doing me a favour (this is a young man to whose family Juancho had given me a letter) has retired with some money and is tearfully unable to repay. And now since Bill intends going to Paris I must settle with him. It has just been this business of being caught in Madrid, waiting. Pray heaven the Franciscans can lend respite. I have the remittance this morning, and many thanks. Also news of poor Old Grunter. oh dear, I think of his wistful bravery. How old he is.