Elizabeth Bishop - Prose

Affectionately Yours — Elizabeth

I should say — I am quite looking forward to your book, now!

Rio de Janeiro, April 8th, 1964

Dear Anne:

It would add interest, certainly, to your book if you could have a footnote saying I’d been shot in the Brazilian Revolution of April Fools’ Day, 1964—but I wasn’t. We had forty-eight rather bad hours and then it was all over much sooner than anyone had expected. My friend Lota was naturally very much involved, she and one other woman the only ones in the siege of the Governor’s “palace”—and I could get news of what was going on there only by short wave occasionally since the President held all radio, T V etc here in the city. — It was a tremendous relief when we finally learned he had run away and all was over — The celebration, in the pouring rain — the whole “revolution” took place in the rain — was a weird wet sight, with paper, confetti, streamers, flags, towels, everything, sticking—& dancing in bathing trunks, raincoats, with umbrellas, etc — I’ll spare you the politics of it all; however, what I see from U S papers is half-wrong, as always—

I hope you got a mass of rather uninteresting personal stuff that was mailed to you about two weeks ago now — the mails have naturally been worse than ever. If not, I’ll send you most of it over again.

I am going away, probably about May 20th, and probably first to Italy for three weeks, then to England for a couple of months — I hope. I want to go someplace where I can speak the language, more or less, and where I think they care very little about Brazil and its politics — I’d like to forget them both for a little while. Politics are scarcely my element, and here we’ve heard absolutely nothing else for months—

I’ll give you an address in England as soon as I know one — and perhaps you’ll do the same? If you write me here again before I leave, it might be a good idea to register the letter — or maybe that’s just a Brazilian superstition I’ve acquired. — With kindest regards—

Affectionately yours,

Elizabeth

Petrópolis, Sunday, April 12th? I received your letter of April 4th when I got here yesterday for the week-end — Thank you so much for your kind invitations in England and I’m sure I’ll take you up on one of them, at least — But I’ll wait until I get back to Rio tomorrow to answer you because I have no typewriter here and my writing, I know, is awful — Lota & I are going to Italy — so I probably won’t get to London until about June 20—not a good time, I know. I’ll be visiting friends at Bexley Hill (near Petworth Sussex) for a while. - // The “revolution” now has a military junta — a middle-class revolution — Castelo Branco (the president until next year’s election) has a good reputation — moderate, “liberal” (for here), honest, — & ironical — not rhetorical, at least — the new vice p. an old crook, alas. — But desperate measures had to be taken—

I wonder if you ever saw Randall J’s second review of my book? He said some very acute things, I think — about painting, etc.

Rio, May 5th, 1964

Dear Anne:

In the midst of travel preparations I can’t remember whether I answered your letter of April 4th or not — I think I did. And thanked you for your kind invitations? My addresses will be simply:

May 13th to June 13th — C/O American Express, Milan.

June 13th, August 1st— " " ", London. (Haymarket)

In Italy I’ll be in Florence a week, Venice a bit longer, and start and wind up in Milan — so that’s the best general address. I am not sure exactly when I’ll be staying in London, it depends on the friends I’m visiting, etc. But you could drop me a note there with telephone numbers, perhaps, and I’ll get in touch with you? I hope you have a nice sea voyage — I’m returning by boat but wish I were going by boat, too.

Yesterday I received a letter from my aunt Grace (Mrs. William Bowers) — enclosing the letter you wrote to the Great Village “Chamber of Commerce.” I’m awfully sorry it turned out that way. I know you were just doing your job and naturally tried to “check up” on the informations I’ve been writing you. But Great Village is so small there isn’t any such thing as a Chamber of Commerce there, and everyone knows everyone else, of course. Whoever got your letter just handed it over to my aunt. She is almost eighty years old now (although the rest of her letter was all about her first trout fishing of the season) and apparently she was baffled and a bit put out — She has never wanted to discuss the past with me at all, although she was more concerned with my mother than anyone else, and I think now, almost fifty years later, she has almost succeeded in burying it completely. She was the only daughter of that family who “went back home;”* she married a farmer, a widower with eight children, produced three more of her own, and for many years has lived on the largest farm in N.S. (They used to raise trotting horses, among other things.) By now she has many grandchildren and dozens of step-grandchildren — and so has a great deal of “life” to have buried the past under.

I know you should be able to confirm my statements somehow but I honestly can’t think how.

I’ll answer your questions myself — but again, it’s just my word for it! Long ago I used to try to get details from Aunt Grace but I never succeeded. — She is an active, strong, humorous woman, my favorite relative as I’ve already said — and she believes in living in the present. I think, too, like most families, mine has no idea that I could possibly have done anything that the rest of the world would be interested in — at least they apparently haven’t thought much of my life and works since I went away to school! Aunt Grace has given me some information about the Bulmer family, what little I do know — she and the aunt I lived with—

Well — I’ll answer for the “Chamber of Commerce” (if you could see the “Village” I think you’d be amused.) — and I wish I could think of an outside source for you …

My great-grandfather’s (One of them) name was Robert Hutchinson. He was part-owner and captain of a brig or barque (I’m not sure which) that sailed out of G V when it was a ship-building place — hasn’t been since the beginning of the century, probably.

Aunt Grace is the only real “Bulmer” left, there. — There is a sister-in-law, and some distant cousins live around there — There were five children, in this order: Maud, Arthur, Gertrude, Grace, and Mary. Aunt Mary lives in Montreal (Mrs. J.K. Ross), — the others you know about.

It has always been said that what set off my mother’s insanity was the shock of my father’s death at such an early age, and when they’d only been married three years. (He was 39 she was 29 ). It is the only case of insanity in the family, as far as we know. She had undoubtedly ( I think) shown symptoms of trouble before — perhaps traits that in our enlightened, etc. days might have been noticed and treated earlier. As it was, she did receive the very best treatment available at that time, I feel sure. She was in McLean’s Sanitarium outside of Boston* (you must have heard of that) — once or maybe twice. Aunt Grace herself went with her, and also, I think, though I’m not positive, took her to doctors in N.Y. — At any rate, the Bishop family “spared no expense.” Since Aunt Grace was so involved with it all she naturally does not like to remember it, I suppose. That generation took insanity very differently than we do now, you know. My father did not beat her or anything like that — really! I am telling you the facts as I have always been given to understand them, and a lot I remember pretty well. (Of course I may have distorted it, but as I’m sure you know, children do have a way of overhearing everything. ) The tragic thing was that she returned to N S when she did, before the final breakdown. At that time, women became U S citizens when they married U S citizens, — so when she became a widow she lost her citizenship. Afterwards, the U S would not let her back in, sick, and that is why she had to be put in the hospital at Dartmouth, Nova Scotia (across the harbor from Halifax). My Bishop grandfather tried for a long time to get her back in the US. One always thinks that things might be better now, she might have been cured, etc. — Aunt Grace suffered most of all because of it, and being the kind of woman she is, her technique is to bury it, not speak of it, etc.