Affectionately,
Graham
TO RALPH RICHARDSON
Greene’s play Carving a Statue, directed by Peter Wood, had its first performances in Brighton, then opened at the Theatre Royal Haymarket on 17 September 1964. It closed after a month and Graham believed that the biggest problem with the play was Ralph Richardson’s humourless interpretation of the lead role as a man in search of God.
14 September 1964
My dear Ralph,
I feel that in the last weeks I have been very patient, but my patience is now exhausted. Only once have I had an experience comparable to the last fortnight at Brighton, and on that occasion the leading actor had at least the excuse of drink.
You have been sacrificing the whole cast in order to build up – with a minimum of effort – your own idea of your own image. Peter Wood and I have done our best to enlighten you about your part, but you have consistently turned a deaf ear, though it seems reasonable to suppose that the author and the director understand a good deal more than you do about the play. Alas, you fancy yourself as a literary man, and I have as little faith in your literary ability as in your capacity to judge a play. I have found you – not for the first time – incapable of understanding even your own part. Last Friday in your dressing-room after a performance in which you had not shown the elementary courtesy of knowing or playing my lines, we agreed on a text together in the presence of Peter Wood and Binkie.5 I now hear you have changed the dialogue agreed and introduced lines snatched out of context for your exit at the end of the first act, thus killing the curtain for your young and less experienced colleague. I am sure this should be attributed to stupidity and not to jealousy, but since you waited to break our agreement till I had left for France I cannot acquit you of cowardice.
The time has come to call an end to the selfishness, the laziness and the obstinacy which has impeded nearly every rehearsal. In France there is a law which protects the author’s rights. In England the author must defend himself, and I assure you that if you do not from now on speak the lines which I have written, I will see that the gist of this letter has a wide circulation – and I don’t exclude the press. The vanity of an ageing ‘star’ can do far more damage to the living theatre than any censorship exercised by the Lord Chamberlain.
Yours sincerely,
Graham
Greene and Richardson quickly patched up their personal differences, but reviewers were appalled by the play. Greene continued to believe that the failure was due to Richardson’s handling of his part. Reprintings contain his ‘Epitaph for a Play’, insisting that the work is farcical, not symbolic.
TO MAX REINHARDT
C.6 Albany, | London, W.1. [19 September 1964]
Dear Max,
A lunch yesterday with my friend, the Indian novelist R. K. Narayan plus this morning the appearance of one of his books The Dark Room published by Macmillan in 1938 in a Rare Book catalogue at the price of three guineas, has determined me to bring up his case to you.
He is at present under contract to Heinemann who published his last novel, which is still in print having sold between four and five thousand copies, The Man-Eater of Malgudi. They are also bringing out a book of his on Indian mythology, which hasn’t the same interest as his novels, at the beginning of next year. He’s about half way through a new novel, which he described to me and which sounds up to his best form, and this is contracted to Heinemann. Then his contract lapses.
I brought him to Heinemann myself when Frere was in charge and introduced him to Frere who has a high opinion of his work. He has become in his own way a minor classic already in England since Hamish Hamilton published his first book right back in the depression years. From Hamish Hamilton he went to Nelson and I wrote an introduction to his second novel The Bachelor of Arts. When I went to Eyre & Spottiswoode I took back the rights in his old books and reprinted them, except for this one published by Macmillan that I’ve just mentioned. I also published several new books including a very fine collection of short stories, humorous and sad, called An Astrologer’s Day. All the books did reasonably well, but in those days there was a paper shortage and I saw to it that he had a proper allotment.
When I left Eyre & Spottiswoode, like all my favourite authors except Mauriac, he was cancelled out by Douglas Jerrold and then went to Methuen who had an extremely good press for The Guide (which has been filmed) but did very little with him, so that I was glad to transfer him under Frere’s banner. David Higham has done nothing whatever about paperback rights and here I feel a great deal could be done by persuading one of the paperback firms to produce three of his best novels simultaneously. A great range of quotation could be used on the jackets from E.M. Forster to myself!
[…]
TO MARIE BICHE
Having weighed the matter ‘seventy times seven’ times, Biche suggested to Graham that he was now neglecting Catherine Walston, who was depressed after two surgeries and heavy medication to deal with a broken hip. From 1964 Graham spent more and more time in France with Yvonne Cloetta, who, despite being married, provided him through the last thirty-two years of his life with the happiness and stability he had not found in earlier relationships.
C.6 Albany, | London, W.1. | Dec. 5 1964
My dear Marie,
Thank you for your letter, but you don’t really understand the character of either Catherine or myself. Since I arrived here a week ago I have written two (for me long) letters to C. & had intended to write a third today – but I choose to write to you instead & there are limits to what the old hand can write when one’s trying to average more than 600 words a day of work. I can assure you there is no one (apart from dictated letters – I never dictate a letter to C.) to whom I write so much or so often as to Catherine. Far more than to Yvonne even during the summers of separation. It’s not a duty, but I love Catherine dearly.
You must realise that what she says depends very much on her mood. One might have written six times in a month, but if at the moment she felt low she would say that she seldom got a letter. ‘Buying books in Brighton’ – I suppose we’ve done that once in 15 years – I know it’s a symbol, & I try to arrange other symbolic things. I hoped that we could spend 2 weeks in Anacapri this last summer, but I realised how impossible it was when one thought of the bus rides, the jostling crowds in the piazza – she would have been a prisoner in Anacapri. Before I knew that she would have to have another operation, I was planning that this February we should both take a holiday in Vienna with the Dottoressa, but now … It’s not poor Catherine’s fault that rendezvous after rendezvous has had to be cancelled during the last 18 months – but nor is it mine – if anybody’s it’s the fault of a Dublin surgeon!
There is a geographical difficulty which Catherine does not easily admit. I have never been able to work in London since 1940 & I’ve confined my work to all intents to the two months’ holiday we had together during a year. Now I spend I suppose 7 months of the year in France working – instead of 1 in Italy & 1 in the West Indies – but it means that the opportunity of seeing each other is reduced. I doubt if I could have continued to earn a living by working 2 months a year – & a few weeks at Brighton as an extra, & for that reason I planned a flat in France long before I knew Yvonne…. If Yvonne had never existed, I would have had to face a situation where less London, less Cambridge was essential if things were not going to go to pieces. I would love to retire & dangle around [?] & write more letters & less work – but the fact is I’m working harder now than during the last 16 years. This C. does not realise.
Love,
G.
I’ll write the third letter in 10 days tomorrow when the shock of yours has worn off.
TO BERNARD DIEDERICH
One of the most important figures in Graham’s later life, the journalist, biographer and historian Bernard Diederich6 was born in New Zealand in 1926. He left school at sixteen and joined the crew of the four-masted barque the Pamir, the last of the great square-riggers, and fini
shed the war in a modern ship of the United States merchant marine. He settled in Haiti from 1949, operating an English-language newspaper, the Haiti Sun. He was the resident correspondent for the New York Times and other international news organisations during the early years of François ‘Papa Doc’ Duvalier’s dictatorship, reporting on killings, repression and corruption. In 1963 the regime determined to silence him; he was arrested by the Tonton Macoutes, imprisoned and finally exiled.
Diederich, whose memoir of Greene is eagerly anticipated, first met him when he visited Haiti in 1954 and got to know him better when he returned with Catherine Walston in 1956. After Greene’s trip to Haiti in 1963, Diederich met him at the airport in Santo Domingo and acted as his guide in the Dominican Republic. In early January 1965, Diederich took him on a tour of the border between the Dominican Republic and Haiti, which became the setting for the climactic scene in The Comedians (1966).
C.6 Albany, | London, W. 1 | 19 January 1965
Dear Bernard,
Thank you so much for sending me those publications. I have been meaning to write again and again to say how much I enjoyed our time together and how grateful I am to you [for] giving up two days to the trip. I always suspected that that tyre was no good. I tried to point out a hole in it to our friend the priest but he didn’t seem to think it mattered!7
I had already sent off a copy of the play to you when I got your letter. I hope you won’t find it as boring as the critics did. All good wishes to both of you.
Affectionately,
Graham
TO JOHN SUTRO
In January 1965, John Sutro, deep in debt, tried to kill himself. His doctor set up a consultation with a psychiatrist for two weeks later, by which time there was a reasonable chance he would be dead. Gillian sent Graham an ‘SOS’. With Raymond’s help, he arranged John’s admission to Holloway Sanatorium.
C.6 Albany, | London, W. 1. | Feb. 5 [1965]
Dear John,
Thank you so much for your letter. It gave me great pleasure to think that you were well enough to write it & I hope you are safely home by the time you get this.
For goodness sake stop flagellating yourself. We all make mistakes, we all make people we love suffer in one way or another – c’est la vie, & luckily people don’t love us for our virtues or we’d be in a bad way. Only the saints are allowed to beat their chests & accuse themselves! So do forgive yourself because then we can all be at ease again & laugh again over a shepherd’s pie.
[…]
TO EVELYN WAUGH
C.6 Albany, | London, W.1. | 4 March 1965
Dear Evelyn,
Rumours reach me from many sides that you are not well. I do hope these are false, but your friends are anxious to know. I hope that it’s nothing worse than flu, forgetfulness and gout which are my own particular minor afflictions.
Affectionately,
Graham
TO RAYMOND GREENE
27th May, 1965
Dear Raymond,
Yesterday I had lunch with the wife of an old friend of mine Mervyn Peake, the writer and artist. It is rather a sad case and I wondered whether you could possibly give any advice in the matter.
Apparently Mervyn, who is about fifty-two years old, some ten years ago started Parkinson’s disease. He had an operation on the brain in London and whether or not as a result of the case developed encephalitis. For the last eight years he has been completely incapable. He doesn’t speak, he dribbles saliva and walks backwards. For a time he was put in a mental hospital but the mental hospital said in the end that he was not really a mental case, and the doctors thought it was bad for him to be in those surroundings. His wife has suggested to her own doctor that she take him back home and look after him, but the doctor has said that it would be highly dangerous both for herself and for Mervyn. There seems to be no National Health establishment for a case like his, and therefore his wife has had to put him in a private hospital for which she pays over £1000 a year. As she has three children and her income is only a little over £2000 it is becoming a burden impossible to bear. Is it really the case that there is no establishment run by the National Health for cases of this kind?
If you felt you could be of any help with advice I would be immensely grateful if you would see Maeve Peake.
Yours ever,
Graham
Greene was not able to help Peake’s situation. An effort at about this time by John Brophy to establish a trust for his care also failed. From 1964, Peake was a patient at The Priory in Roehampton and remained there until the wing where he was accommodated was to be demolished. He was moved to a smaller institution in Berkshire run by Maeve’s brother, where he received similar care. He died in November 1968.8
TO LUCY CAROLINE BOURGET
Villa Rosaio, | Anacapri. | July 16 [1965]
Dearest Carol,
How are you & all the family? I am down here till July 22 finishing the revision of my novel The Comedians. I’ve just heard that Hanoi has given me a visa, so I am off to North Vietnam at the beginning of August for The Sunday Times.
At the beginning of this week I went up to Rome because the Pope9 had sent me a message that he would like to see me. It was all very nice & informal – not a bit like the Vatican of Pius XII (when I get home I’ll send you a horrible photo of me & the Pope).
The Pope talked to me for twenty minutes about why he liked my novels! He had read The Power & the Glory, The Heart of the Matter, Brighton Rock, & Stamboul Train! He gave me a rosary in a nice little case for Vivien, a medal of himself for me, & a beautiful leather bound edition of The Gospels in an edition limited to 140 copies. All the monsignori were very cordial, & the Pope didn’t go in at all for a talk about ‘the duties’ of a writer. He said there would be always things in my books which offended some Catholics, but not to bother about that!
Lots of love to all of you,
Daddy.
TO JANET ADAM SMITH
Janet Adam Smith (later Carleton) (1905–99), the widow of the poet and anthologist Michael Roberts, was an old friend of Graham’s and a biographer of his distant cousin, Robert Louis Stevenson. In this letter he describes an encounter with his old antagonist J. B. Priestley, a man equipped for bad weather.
12 November 1965
Dear Janet,
Will you forgive me? I came back from Paris specially, after celebrating Mauriac’s eightieth birthday, to come to your party, and then it rained and it rained. I waited for a quarter of an hour in the shelter of Meakers10 and no taxi came. Only the porter of Albany who was seeking a taxi for Mr. Priestley. Finally I went back into Albany and found Mr. Priestley who was sheltered under a great big hat. I don’t possess a hat and rain on my head becomes more and more unbearable. Unfortunately I mentioned to Mr. Priestley that I didn’t have a hat. Apparently he didn’t get a taxi either, because later after I had had a snack at Bentley’s I ran into him entering. He said I was a coward for avoiding the rain, and forgetting that I had already mentioned his hat I told him that I hadn’t got a hat. He disappeared into the lavatory I suspect in umbrage. He must be proud of that hat. I don’t suppose I would have had much chance of talking to you but all the same I feel a traitor. Will you let me come and see you one day when there is not a party, when it isn’t raining so hard and when I don’t have to feel an envy of Mr. Priestley’s hat?
Affectionately,
Graham
TO BERNARD DIEDERICH
C. 6 Albany, | London, W. 1. | 20 December 1965
Dear Bernard,
Thank you so much for your Christmas card. All the best wishes to you and your family. I was delighted to hear from you as I was afraid that something might have happened to one of you during the revolution – a revolution which alas I could not attend!11 I’ve got a novel about Haiti coming out at the end of January of which I am sending you a copy in the hope that it may arrive. I’m sure you will find a great many errors there, but perhaps you will be amused by the last chapter which reflects our visit to the
Bauxite works! Forgive the errors for the sake of the intention.
[…]
TO EVELYN WAUGH
Having thought A Burnt-Out Case both technically flawed and a confession of unbelief, Waugh judged Greene’s new novel a return to form: ‘I greatly admire The Comedians. What staying power you have. It might have been written 30 years ago and could be by no one but you.’12
130 Boulevard Malesherbes, | Paris 17. | Jan. 6 [1966]
Dear Evelyn,
Thank you so much for your letter which encouraged me, not only about The Comedians, but about the C.H.13 which I felt snobbish in accepting. You should have had it first & then I could have happily followed in your footsteps, but you probably refused it.
1965 was bad for me too. Someone like Jones claiming a C.B.E.14 did away with half my savings, so I’ve had to leave England & establish myself in France. Yes, & there were also deaths & the new liturgy, but in my case no dentistry.
Love,
Graham
TO BRIAN MOORE
Along with Evelyn Waugh, R. K. Narayan and Muriel Spark, Brian Moore (1921–99) was one of the few contemporary novelists in English whom Graham regarded as a master. Born an Irish Catholic, Moore wrote often about a lost faith. While the subject was close to Graham’s heart, his real interest in Moore was his craftsmanship (see p. 343), as demonstrated in The Emperor of Ice Cream (1965).
28 January 1966
Dear Moore,
I was delighted to receive your new novel from the publishers and I have read it with the usual pleasure and admiration. So many writers claimed to be realists and trod15 in the heavy hoof prints of Zola. You are really the only realist writing whom I can read always with a sense of pleasure and exhilaration.
Graham Greene Page 31
