The Selected Letters of Willa Cather

by Willa Cather

  I think New York has become the most foolish city in the world—to live in. All the old women have had their hair dyed yellow—or cut short and violently frizzed. One rarely sees a really well-dressed woman.

  I am glad that you remember with pleasure the shadbush and the dogwood. I wonder whether you happened to be in the South when the Judas tree (cercis canadensis) was in blossom? In Virginia when I was a child, the dogwood and the Judas tree and the white locust tree always blossomed at the same time. (The shadbush thrives only further North, I think.)

  Dear and kind friend, this is a foolish letter but you must forgive me. The warm, soft winter, and the strange deterioration in human beings take all one’s spirit. Every American now seems to want to live in New York City, drink cocktails and wear outrageous clothes. Miss Lewis and I have both had a good winter in so far as general heath is concerned. My right hand has been a great drawback for the last six months, but it is getting better and I hope to escape from New York before very long. When I go North you shall hear from me.

  Always affectionately and deeply admiringly yours,

  Willa Cather

  TO E. K. BROWN

  April 12, 1947

  Dear Professor Brown:

  I can’t give any definite plans as to where I will be in the early summer, but I am now quite sure that I will not be going West in the middle [of] June. I expect, indeed, to go straight North to a cottage in Northeast Harbor, Maine, where I have often been very comfortable and where I can work a little.

  I warmly agree with you about the benefits of our young people going abroad, especially to France. But I am sure you will agree with me that one has to choose the kind of young people. Once when I was in France for a year, I had an opportunity to observe some of the young Americans who flocked about Gertrude Stein. One couldn’t very well tell whether they were youths of promise or not; they certainly thought they were, and fearlessly stated that opinion. But not one of them in the years that have gone by has done anything that took hold of one very hard. One of them, Steinbeck I think, wrote a play set in Norway, called “The Moon is Down”. I read that with great interest and felt a real throb of life in it. I was a little disappointed when the last act and the climax of the play was a long quotation from Plato. The quotation was very fine … belonged where the American put it and was effectively introduced. But to me it threw a backward shadow on the earlier part of the play. Perhaps, if I were to read it again, I would feel differently.

  What I mean is, that it takes the right kind of young American to go to France. He must have character and depth, and a passion for the things that lie deep behind French history and French art. I wish I could have had a comfortable boardinghouse near Chartres when Henry Adams used to prowl about the cathedral. Young people who flocked about Gertrude Stein were a rather soft lot. Some of them wore bracelets!! I hope you have had better luck with your students who have gone over.

  As soon as I have arranged my dates for Northeast Harbor, Maine, and Nova Scotia, I will certainly let you know, Mr. Brown.

  Faithfully yours,

  Willa Cather

  TO DOROTHY CANFIELD FISHER

  April 17, 1947

  My dear Dorothy:

  I have wanted to write to you for a long while, but I hate to send you a typewritten letter. Early in the winter I “pulled” the tendon of my right thumb, and since then have been carrying my right hand in a light metal and leather brace which comfortably isolates my thumb. It has responded to its vacation and I hope soon to get it out of the brace altogether.

  This is a letter of inquiry, merely. I long ago promised an editor to sometime furnish him with an account of the short call which you and Isabelle and I paid on Houseman. In such an article I would wish to admit that you saved the day (which might have been embarrassing) by the blessed and time-honored avenue of Latin scholarship! You had a bridge for approach, congenial approach, to Professor Houseman, which Isabelle and I had not. If I make such a statement about you, I want to be accurate. As I remember it, you had come from studying for your Ph.D. degree with Gaston Paris, in France? That fact interested Professor Houseman and turned the conversation in safe and impersonal channels. Several rather mushy boys (young men they were, apparently) have sent rather horrid manuscripts on Houseman to me. I could not destroy them, but if they should ever get them published I should like to leave a plain statement of an uninvited call upon a scholar and a gentleman—a stiff and angular gentleman at that! Why do all these Willie boys sigh for him so, and claim him for their own? The word ‘lad’ seems to hypnotize them.

  You may remember that Isabelle and I had just come from Ludlow, where we had spent two weeks. We were on friendly terms with the bookseller there, Mr. Woolley, who often sent us things which he thought might interest us. He would say: “You must not carry these books; I will send them up to your hotel by my lad.” At that date “lad” was the common name for errand-boy—for any young man who was hired by a merchant or by the old Feathers Hotel.

  Our punishments are strange in this world. Why should a severe Latin teacher (a real scholar) be made the apologist for lazy youths who whine that the world owes them a living—a living with laurel and roses!

  Affectionately always

  Willa

  Houseman taught Latin at the university of London did he not? Do you remember what branch of Latin? Curse my metal thumb!

  Willa Cather died of a cerebral hemorrhage on April 24, 1947, at her apartment in New York. Edith Lewis remembered, “She was never more herself than on the last morning.”

  VIRGINIA CATHER BROCKWAY TO META SCHAPER CATHER

  Wednesday, April 30 [1947]

  Dearest Mother–

  Just got home & I’m having some coffee before I clean up, bathe, etc. Later I’ll have to buy food & want to mail this when I go in.

  I got to N. Y. early Monday morning & called Aunt Elsie and MV [Mary Virginia] at their hotel, & then walked over & joined them for breakfast. Then MV went to the apartment to help with the flowers, but Miss Lewis preferred to have the rest of us wait until the funeral. Uncles Jack & Jim were to arrive during the morning & Charles was to meet them, but they missed each other so all ended up at the apartment. Aunt Elsie & I got there at 1:15.

  The funeral was very small, about twenty four people I guess, all old friends. Mrs. [Ethel] Litchfield whom Aunt Willie had known from the days in Pittsburgh was there. Yehudi’s wife [Nola Nicholas Menuhin], a really beautiful girl, was also there. Beyond that I don’t know, & I somehow didn’t feel like asking. Uncle Jack can probably tell you.

  The apartment was very little disarranged. Aunt Willie was in front of the windows and looked very lovely. There were masses of flowers. MV had busily torn bows off everything as Aunt Willie had always been allergic to bows on flowers & had always snatched them off. MV mentioned flowers from Maude Bradley, Zoe Akins, and Margery Sharp had cabled flowers from London.

  Since Aunt Willie had known no minister in N.Y., Edith chose the only one she knew—a Unitarian minister who had conducted funeral services for Edith’s mother. Edith & MV both thought Aunt Willie would be highly amused at having the Unitarian minister, but I’m afraid poor Aunt Elsie doubted that any but an Episcopalian minister could give one the right start toward heaven. However she felt better when she saw that he wore a very rich & elaborate vestment. She thought they were against such trappings. He just read from the Bible and offered a short prayer—nothing to conflict with our church. It was all very simple and dignified. He asked if he should read something Aunt Willie wrote, & evidently had an appropriate passage in mind, but Miss Lewis preferred just the Bible.

  After the services Miss Lewis asked me to stay for a while and have a cup of tea with her. She told me all about Aunt Willie, and then her sister and Miss Bloom (Blum?) joined us for tea. It really did not seem at all inappropriate for Aunt Willie to be present, though it does sound odd.

  She said it was very sudden. At 2PM Thursday Aunt Willie was well and cheerful, and was
going to rest for a while. She was troubled with rheumatism or lumbago and was to see the doctor the next day. At three she came out and said she was very ill and had such a terrible pain in her head. Before four it was all over. They were unable to get a doctor until too late—one arrived ten minutes after Aunt Willie died. However she was not unattended. Their maid was a registered nurse until she got too old for such a strenuous life so she was able to do just about all that could be done.

  Miss Lewis said she sometimes wondered if Aunt Willie had felt it coming for so often of late she had said that she hoped she could die as quickly and easily as Roscoe and Douglass had. Of course it’s a blessing that she did rather than having the helpless years grandmother had.

  Aunt Willie had not been well since her trip to California. And since her operation she had been very weak and tired. But she wasn’t an invalid. She rested a great deal and had to eliminate most social life, but she was up and around every day and would do things like walking to the hardware store and coming back with mops & kitchen equipment. And she was making hopeful plans for the future. She would ask Edith how she would feel about packing up and going to California right away. And they were planning to go to Maine as Aunt Willie was most anxious to get back to work and thought she could there. Of late Aunt Willie had been talking and thinking more and more of the family, particularly the nieces and nephews because they were young and Aunt Willie apparently found something hopeful in youth.

  In all, I guess, it was all for the best. As with dad, a little less severe attack and there would have been a long period of invalidism, which seems the most tragic end for a life.

  After I left Miss Lewis I went to the station to get a reservation & pick up my bag & then to Aunt Elsie’s hotel. She had them bring in a cot for me so I shared the room with Aunt Elsie and M.V. Uncle Jack & Jim were there and all the family had a most pleasant dinner together. Whenever I looked quickly at Uncle Jack I was almost certain that he was dad. He said that you seemed well and cheerful and that they were so happy to have you near them.

  Yesterday MV, Charles, Uncle Jack, Uncle Jim & Miss Lewis took Aunt Willie up to Jaffrey for burial. Since one of Jaffrey’s main charms for Aunt Willie was the fact that it was almost inaccessible it seemed better not to have everyone go. So I stayed with Aunt Elsie. We spent the day at the Metropolitan Museum and saw the Cathedral of St. John the Divine. It is very beautiful. After dinner we just talked and I left for the station at 9:30. Got here at seven and John met me. I took him to work & then drove home.

  Aunt Elsie says she feels much better. The doctors never learned just what had been wrong with her. She wasn’t ill in bed but she had been definitely not well. She did no housework at all, but she got up every day and then just rested and got caught up on her “3 Rs”—reading, resting, and radio.

  John just called to tell me that there was mail in a desk drawer—two letters from you. I didn’t know Aunt Willie felt any bitterness toward Aunt Elsie but I did know that they hadn’t been too close, and was sure that Miss Lewis & MV would know what Aunt Willie would think of having the Unitarian minister while Aunt Elsie’s opinion was just her own prejudice. Understand she (Aunt Elsie) is very strictly religious, and she is really rather prim.

  I wrote to Aunt Willie a short time ago—a dull letter I thought—just about the garden and my birds as I had nothing else to say. But I just somehow felt I should write & I’m so glad I did. Miss Lewis said the letter made Aunt Willie very happy and she read the letter to Miss Lewis.

  Yes, the family seems to have disintegrated. To me, Uncle Jack is the only real Cather left. Perhaps it’s his resemblance to dad, and the fact that they have always been so good to me. Uncle Jim seems kind of prim and opinionated, as Aunt Elsie is. And Aunt Jessie just doesn’t seem to belong.

  I am glad that Edith was the one to arrange everything for she knew all of Aunt Willie’s little quirks, and I’m sure the dignity and simplicity would have pleased Aunt Willie. It has of course been most terribly hard for Edith. She will be really lost, I fear.

  I will be very careful of everything of Aunt Willies—books, pictures, letters. M. wanted me to take charge of all the letters but now I think they should be divided up—just in case of a fire or something unexpected.

  It’s eleven, so I must buy food & straighten the house a bit—then write to E & M.

  Love,

  Virginia

  Biographical Directory

  This biographical directory does not list every person mentioned in the letters by Willa Cather included in this volume. Focusing on individuals most readers will not be familiar with, it omits, for example, well-known writers, artists, politicians, and other people for whom basic information is readily available elsewhere (such as Charles Dickens, Winston Churchill, or Prosper Mérimée). People mentioned in the letters whose identities are not known beyond a name or a partial name are also not included, and identifications made in the text are often not repeated here.

  ABBOTT, EDITH (1876–1957): Graduated from the University of Nebraska in 1901; became dean of the University of Chicago School of Social Service Administration.

  ACKROYD, ROSE: Granddaughter of Mary Ann Anderson, of the Back Creek area in Virginia; niece of Enoch and Marjorie Anderson, who accompanied the Cathers to Nebraska.

  ADLER, ELMER (1884–1962): Book designer and master of fine printing; designed and supervised the printing of some of Cather’s books.

  AKINS, ZOË (1886–1958): Playwright and also writer of poetry, fiction, criticism, screenplays, and radio and television scripts; winner of the Pulitzer Prize in 1935 for her adaptation of Edith Wharton’s The Old Maid.

  AMES, MARY H. (MAYSIE): Classmate of Cather and of Mariel Gere.

  AMES, WINTHROP (1870–1937): American dramatist, producer, director, and theater owner.

  ANDERSON, EDWIN H. (1861–1947): Director of the Carnegie Library in Pittsburgh while Cather lived there; director of the New York Public Library, 1913–1934.

  ANDERSON, MARJORIE (MARGIE) (1854–1924): Accompanied the Cathers from Virginia to Nebraska as household help; prototype for Mahailey in One of Ours and Mandy in “Old Mrs. Harris.”

  ANDREWS, SARAH (“AUNTIE” OR “AUNTIE SISTER”) (1834–1925): Sister of Mary Virginia Cather, Willa Cather’s mother.

  ARCHER, WILLIAM (1856–1924): Scottish playwright and drama critic.

  ARLISS, GEORGE (1868–1946) and FLORENCE (1871–1950): Well-known British actors who had major successes in American theater and film.

  AULD, CHARLES: Son of Jessica Cather Auld and James William Auld.

  AULD, JAMES WILLIAM: Banker in Red Cloud; married to Jessica Cather but divorced from her in 1933; often called “Will.”

  AULD, JESSICA CATHER (1881–1964): Sister of Willa Cather.

  AULD, MARY VIRGINIA (b. 1905): Cather’s adored niece, the daughter of her sister Jessica Cather Auld; married name Mellen.

  AULD, WILLIAM THOMAS: Son of Jessica Cather Auld and James William Auld; sometimes called “Tom” or “Will.”

  “AUNTIE” OR “AUNTIE SISTER”: see Andrews, Sarah.

  AUSTIN, MARY HUNTER (1868–1934): American writer and naturalist, author of The Land of Little Rain, The Ford, and numerous other works.

  AXTELL, JAMES W. (1852–1909): publisher and editor in chief of the Home Monthly Magazine.

  BAIN, READ (b. 1892): A professor of sociology at Miami University, Oxford, Ohio; editor of the American Sociological Review from 1938 to 1942.

  BAKST, LÉON (1866–1924): Russian painter and designer of stage sets.

  BARR, AMELIA E. (1831–1919): British American writer of popular historical fiction.

  BARRIE, JAMES M. (1860–1937): British playwright and novelist, best known for Peter Pan.

  BATES, HERBERT (1868–1929): A professor of English at the University of Nebraska who placed some of Cather’s earliest writings; later a music critic in Cincinnati.

  BEACH, REX ELLINGWOOD (1877–1949): Writer of manly adventure novels.

 
; BECKER, SADIE: A talented musician and accompanist who moved from New York to Red Cloud with her parents as a young woman; possible prototype for Cather’s character Lucy Gayheart.

  BEECHER, GEORGE ALLEN (1868–1951): Bishop of Western Nebraska from 1910 to 1943; confirmed Cather and her parents in the Episcopal Church.

  BENDA, WLADYSLAW THEODOR (1873–1948): Magazine and book illustrator chosen by Cather for My Ántonia.

  BENNETT, ARNOLD (1867–1931): English novelist.

  BERNHARDT, SARAH (1844–1923): Celebrated French actress.

  BESSIE: see Seymour, Elizabeth.

  BLOOM, SARAH J.: Cather’s personal secretary from about 1923; managed much of Cather’s correspondence and typed some of her manuscripts.

  BOAK, RACHEL ELIZABETH SEIBERT (1816–1893): Cather’s maternal grandmother, the model for Mrs. Harris in “Old Mrs. Harris.”

  BOURDA, JOSEPHINE: Cather’s housekeeper and cook for many years.

  BOURNE, RANDOLPH (1886–1918): Influential progressive thinker, critic, and essayist; died at age thirty-two in the influenza epidemic of 1918–1919.

  BREWSTER, ACHSAH BARLOW (1878–1945) and EARL (1878–1957): American expatriate painters who lived in Italy, France, and India; Achsah was Edith Lewis’s Smith College roommate and friend.

  BROOKS, VAN WYCK (1886–1963): Literary historian, critic, and biographer; won the Pulitzer Prize for History in 1937 for The Flowering of New England.

  BROWN, E. K. (1905–1951): Canadian academic who wrote the first biography of Cather, completed by Leon Edel and published in 1953.

  BURROUGHS, LOUISE GUERBER: Librarian at the Denver Public Library who later moved to New York and worked at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.