Dear Scott, Dearest Zelda

by F. Scott Fitzgerald

  In addition to jealousy and alcohol as troubling factors in their relationship, each had a distinct personality sharply divided and pulled in opposing directions. The split in Scott’s personality has been thoroughly analyzed and much written about. His contemporary Malcolm Cowley perceptively argued that Scott possessed a “double vision,” by which he meant that he had the ability to throw himself wholeheartedly into dissipation, despite his deeply embedded puritanism. Scott gave Nick Carraway, the narrator of The Great Gatsby, this trait, as well: “I was within and without,” states Nick, “simultaneously enchanted and repelled by the inexhaustible variety of life” (40). Such double vision would help make Scott a great writer, but it would also allow him to become an emblem of the material excesses and moral corruption of the 1920s, at the same time that his writing provided a prophetic judgment against the period. The divided aspect of Zelda’s personality, however, has not been adequately recognized or analyzed.

  Zelda most aptly described her own divided personality in Save Me the Waltz, saying that it was “very difficult to be two simple people at once, one who wants to have a law to itself and the other who wants to . . . be loved and safe and protected” (Collected Writings 56). Although Zelda, age thirty at the time she wrote the novel, was looking backward at the young girl she had once been, this conflicting pull between dependency and independence also emerges vividly in the letters she wrote at eighteen, in passionate declarations of love expressed by a willful, spirited young woman, but one who, in the ardor of youth, desired to merge with the beloved as closely and completely as possible. These expressions, along with her equally passionate expressions of independence, also represent a more deeply embedded aspect of Zelda’s personality, one that will reemerge in her letters in the 1930s, in which she vacillated between valiant struggles to establish herself as a writer (and therefore create economic independence) and her deeply felt gratitude for and need of Scott’s continued provisions for her care.

  Sadly, Scott’s letters to Zelda from this period do not survive. We have only urgent telegrams he sent to Zelda (which she pasted in her scrapbook), announcing the numerous visits he hurriedly planned to make to Montgomery, afraid that if he was not around, another suitor would win her. Scott did express his view of her in a letter to a friend; writing in February 1920, just before his marriage, he admitted, “My friends are unanimous in frankly advising me not to marry a wild, pleasure loving girl like Zelda so I’m quite used to it.” Notwithstanding such warnings, Scott, in this same letter, clearly expressed his understanding of Zelda’s temperament and his commitment to her:

  No personality as strong as Zelda’s could go without getting critisisms and as you say she is not above approach. I’ve always known that. . . . But . . . I fell in love with her courage, her sincerity and her flaming self respect and its these things I’d believe in even if the whole world indulged in wild suspicions that she wasn’t all that she should be.

  But of course the real reason . . . is that I love her and that’s the beginning and end of everything. (Correspondence 53)

  While the loss of Scott’s courtship letters to Zelda is a great one, perhaps there are some advantages to be gained from Zelda’s letters standing nearly on their own here. We know so much about Scott from his published correspondence, from his insightful essays of self-analysis collected in The Crack-Up, and from the numerous biographies and scholarship his life and work have justifiably generated. Zelda, on the other hand, has too often remained a cultural icon, cast in a series of feminine roles: first as a tempestuous and beautiful southern belle, then as a trendsetting flapper of the twenties, and ultimately as a woman who has gone mad (another myth, as her later letters will attest). In these letters, however, Zelda emerges as a wonderfully vivacious and articulate young woman, someone with interesting and original things to say.

  1. TO ZELDA

  [August 1918]

  ALS, 1 p. Scrapbook Hq. 67th

  [Camp] Sheridan[, Montgomery, Alabama]

  Zelda:

  Here is the mentioned chapter . . . . . a document in youthful melancholy . . . . .1

  However . . . . . the heroine does resemble you in more ways than four . . . . .

  Needlessly I may add that the chapter and the sending of it are events for your knowledge alone . . . . —Show it not to man woman or child.

  I am frightfully bored today—

   Desirously

   F. Scott Fit—

  Courtesy of Princeton University Library

  2. TO ZELDA

  Wire. Scrapbook

  CHARLOTTE NC 122 AM FEB 21ST 1919

  MISS TELDA FAYRE2

    CARE FRANCES STUBBS3

        AUBURN ALA

  YOU KNOW I DO NOT [DOUBT?] YOU DARLING

    SCOTT

    1103AM

  Auburn football star Francis Stubbs; Zelda pasted this picture in her scrapbook. Courtesy of Princeton University Library

  3. TO ZELDA

  [After February 22, 1919]

  Wire. Scrapbook

  [New York City]

  MISS SELDA SAYRE

       6 PLEASANT AVE MONTGOMERY ALA DARLING HEART AMBITION ENTHUSIASM AND CONFIDENCE I DECLARE EVERYTHING GLORIOUS THIS WORLD IS A GAME AND WHITE [WHILE] I FEEL SURE OF YOU LOVE EVERYTHING IS POSSIBLE I AM IN THE LAND OF AMIBITION AND SUCCESS AND MY ONLY HOPE AND FAITH IS THAT MY DARLING HEART WILL BE WITH ME SOON.

  4. TO SCOTT

  [February 1919]

  ALS, 3 pp.

  [Montgomery, Alabama]

  Lover—

  I drifted into school this morning, and delivered a most enlightening talk on Browning. Of cource I was well qualified, having read, approximately, two poems. However, the class declared themselves delighted and I departed with honors—I almost wish there were nothing to think of but to-morrow’s lessons and to-day’s lunch—I’d feel so to-no-purpose if it werent for you—and I know you wouldnt keep going just as well without me—that damn school is so depressing—

  I s’pose you knew your Mother’s anxiously anticipated epistle at last arrived—I really am so glad she wrote—Just a nice little note— untranslatable, but she called me “Zelda”—

  Sweetheart, please dont worry about me—I want to always be a help—You know I am all yours and love you with all my heart. Physically—I am prone to exaggerate my sylphiness—I’d so love to be 5 ft 4” × 2”—Maybe I’ll accomplish it swimming. To-morrow, I’m breaking the ice—I can already feel the icicles. But the creek is delightfully clean, and me and the sun are getting hot—

  Last night a small crowd of practical jokers reversed calls to University, Sewanee and Auburn4—telegraphed collect all over the U.S., and were barely restrained by me from getting New York on the wire—O, you’re quite welcome—It would’ve been a good joke, but I couldn’t see the point—

  Darling—lover—You know—

   Zelda

  5. TO SCOTT

  [March 1919]

  ALS, 7 pp.

  [Montgomery, Alabama]

  Darling, I’ve nearly sat it off in the Strand to-day and all because W. E. Lawrence of the Movies is your physical counter-part.5 So I was informed by half a dozen girls before I could slam on a hat and see for myself—He made me so homesick—I thought at first waiting must grow easier later—but every day I want you more—

  All these soft, warm nights going to waste when I ought to be lying in your arms under the moon—the dearest arms in all the world—darling arms that I love so to feel around me—How much longer—before they’ll be there to stay? When I do get home again, you’ll certainly have a most awful time ever moving me one inch from you—

  I’m glad you liked those films6—I wanted them to serve as maps of your property—The best is being finished for you—Monday—but if you’re going to be so flattering, my head’ll be swelled so big then, it won’t look like me—Anyway, I am acquiring myriad wrinkles pondering over a reply to your Mother’s note—I’m so dreadfully
afraid of appearing fresh or presuming or casual—Most of my correspondents have always been boys, so I am at a loss—now in my hour of need—I really believe this is my first letter to a lady—It’s really heart-rending—my frenzied efforts—Mid-night oil is burning by the well-full—O God!

  An old flame from the Stone Ages is calling to-night—He’ll probably leave in disgust because I just must talk about you—I love you so, and I’m so lonesome—

  Tilde7 leaves to-morrow at 6. A.M.—It seems as though I should be going too—I’m sure she isnt half as anxious to leave as I am—O Lover, lover you are mine—and before long—I’ll be coming to you because you are my darlin husband, and I am

  Your Wife—

  6. TO SCOTT

  [March 1919]

  AL, 8 pp.

  [Montgomery, Alabama]

  They’re the most adorably moon-shiny things on earth8—I feel like a Vogue cover in ’em—I do wish yours were touching—But I feel sure I’ll never be able to keep off the street in ’em—Does one take a lunch to bed with one in one’s pockets? One has always used her pockets for biscuit—with butter! It was waiting for me when I came home from Selma to-day—What is it? It feels like a cloud and looks like a dream—Thanks, darling—

  There are two or three nice men in New York, and he is expecting me near the 11th—so I am going—travelling—I shall probably arrive with a numerous coterie collected en route, but when my husband meets me, it will dissolve, and I shall dissolve, too, in his arms—and we shall live happily ever after—I don’t care where.

  “My Soldier Girl” was playing in Selma—so my male escort and I attended a rehearsal. I taught the chorus how to sling [swing?] a little, and so visited upon myself the profuse thanks of the manager— But the pool I went particularly to swim in, was closed—

  Aint no use in livin’—

  Just die

  Aint no use in eatin’—

  ’Taint pie

  Aint no use in kissin’—

  He’ll tell

  Aint no use in nothin’—

  Aw Hell!

  You really mustn’t say short hair thrills you—Just after I’ve lived in Vaseline, thereby turning mine dark, to make it long like you wanted it—But anyway, it didn’t grow, so I really am glad you’re becoming reconciled to the ways of convenience—I still think how nice the back of my neck would feel—Then, I think of Porphuria’s Lover—and between the two, I am remaining somewhat sane—

  Darling, I guess—I know—Mamma knows that we are going to be married some day—But she keeps leaving stories of young authors, turned out on a dark and stormy night, on my pillow—I wonder if you hadn’t better write to my Daddy—just before I leave—I wish I were detached—sorter without relatives. I’m not exactly scared of ’em, but they could be so unpleasant about what I’m going to do—

  But you know we will, my Sweetheart—when you’re ready—your funny little pants sorter are coming home—for you to wrinkle with the dearest arms I know—I hope you squeeze me so hard, I’ll be just as full of wrinkles as it—I hope so—

  I dont see how you can carry around as much love as I’ve given you—

  7. TO SCOTT

  [March 1919]

  ALS, 11 pp.

  [Montgomery, Alabama]

  Sweetheart,

  Please, please don’t be so depressed—We’ll be married soon, and then these lonesome nights will be over forever—and until we are, I am loving, loving every tiny minute of the day and night—Maybe you won’t understand this, but sometimes when I miss you most, it’s hardest to write—and you always know when I make myself—Just the ache of it all—and I can’t tell you. If we were together, you’d feel how strong it is—you’re so sweet when you’re melancholy. I love your sad tenderness—when I’ve hurt you—That’s one of the reasons I could never be sorry for our quarrels—and they bothered you so— Those dear, dear little fusses, when I always tried so hard to make you kiss and forget—

  Scott—there’s nothing in all the world I want but you—and your precious love. All the material things are nothing. I’d just hate to live a sordid, colorless existence—because you’d soon love me less—and less—and I’d do anything—anything—to keep your heart for my own—I don’t want to live—I want to love first, and live incidentally—Why don’t you feel that I’m waiting—I’ll come to you, Lover, when you’re ready—Don’t—don’t ever think of the things you can’t give me. You’ve trusted me with the dearest heart of all—and it’s so damn much more than anybody else in all the world has ever had—

  How can you think deliberately of life without me—If you should die—O Darling—darling Scot—It’d be like going blind. I know I would, too,—I’d have no purpose in life—just a pretty—decoration. Don’t you think I was made for you? I feel like you had me ordered—and I was delivered to you—to be worn. I want you to wear me, like a watch-charm or a button hole boquet—to the world. And then, when we’re alone, I want to help—to know that you can’t do anything without me.

  I’m glad you wrote Mamma. It was such a nice sincere letter—and mine to St Paul was very evasive and rambling. I’ve never, in all my life, been able to say anything to people older than me. Somehow I just instinctively avoid personal things with them—even my family. Kids are so much nicer. Livye9 and a model from New York and I have been modelling in the Fashion Show—I had a misconceived idea that it was easy work—Two hours a day exhausts the most pig-iron of females—after twenty minutes, you feel like ten cents worth of fifty-dollar a yard lace—Some old fool had the sheer audacity to buy my favorite dress, so now what’ll I do to-morrow? I’ve discovered something very, very comforting by this attempt at work—that I’m really smaller than average, and I am delighted!

  I mailed your picture to-day—It’s not a very characteristic pose, but maybe, if you look hard enough, there will be a little resemblance between me and the madonna—

  This is Thursday, and the ring hasn’t come—I want to wear it so people can see—

  All my heart—

  I love you

  Zelda

  8. TO ZELDA

  [March 1919]

  Wire. Scrapbook

  [New York City]

  Miss Lelda Sayre10

  Six Pleasant Ave    Montgy-Ala.

  Sweetheart I have been frightfully busy but you know I have thought of you every minute will write at length tomorrow got your letter and loved it everything looks fine you seem with me always hope and pray to be together soon good night darling.

  9. TO ZELDA

  Wire. Scrapbook

  NEWYORK NY MAR 22 1919

  MISS LILDA SAYRE

    6 PLEASANT AVE MONTGOMERY ALA

  DARLING I SENT YOU A LITTLE PRESENT FRIDAY THE RING ARRIVED TONIGHT AND I AM SENDING IT MONDAY11 I LOVE YOU AND I THOUGHT I WOULD TELL YOU HOW MUCH ON THIS SATURDAY NIGHT WHEN WE OUGHT TO BE TOGETHER DONT LET YOUR FAMILY BE SHOCKED AT MY PRESENT SCOTT

  10. TO ZELDA

  [March 24, 1919]

  AN,12 1 p. Scrapbook

  [New York City]

  Darling: I am sending this just the way it came—I hope it fits and I wish I were there to put it on. I love you so much, much, much that it just hurts every minute I’m without you—Do write every day because I love your letters so—Goodbye, my own wife.

  Courtesy of Princeton University Library

  11. TO SCOTT

  [March 1919]

  ALS, 8 pp.

  [Montgomery, Alabama]

  Tootsie13 opened it, of cource, and I wanted to so much. She says she wants Cappy Tan14 to give her one like it. Scott, Darling, it really is beautiful. Every time I see it on my finger I am rather startled—I’ve never worn a ring before, they’ve always seemed so inappropriate—but I love to see this shining there so nice and white like our love—And it sorter says “soon” to me all the time— Just sings it all day long.

  Thank goodness, the Fashion Show is over—wearing $500 dresses is the most strenuous task I’ve e
ver performed—There’s always so much hanging on to be switched around—Aren’t you glad I look like Hell in trains and slick jet dotties? Seems to me it’d be a constant source of pleasure to you that I am pink and blue.

  Auburn has turned loose her R.O.T.C. with 60 loves in Montgomery—May’s is completely devastated as the result. People may be thrown out of New York restaurants for squirmy dancing, but absolutely, those boys must have studied “Popular Mechanics” for months to be able to accomplish some of their favorite feats—Can’t even be called “Chimey”—And every night I get very loud and coarse, and then I always wish for you so—so I wouldn’t be such a kid—

  Darlin, I don’t know whether I exactly like the fact of having aged so perceptibly in one year. But, if you do, cource I’m glad—I’m glad “Peevie”15 is back, too, because I’ve always thought I’d like him best of all the people you know—

  Your feet—that you liked so much—are ruined. I’ve been toe-dancing again, and nearly broke my right foot—The doctor is trying, [of] cource, but they’ll always look ugly, I guess—and I’d give half my life to have even little things like toes please you—I love you so—Sweetheart—so—

  Hank Young arrived yesterday—to see me parade around in fine feathers. He was just telling me how proud of me you’d be—then May16 dragged him away.