Love B
PS Please try and bring 3 tubes of Dylon â quick wash â excellent! We may now go to Moldavia rather than the Caucasus after all. Will write c/o British School of Archaeology in Athens. Please contact for messages. B
Â
Piggott's group broke up on 20 July, Chatwin heading off to Bucharest. In August he was in Kiev where he watched âa squadron of Cossack cavalry exercising down a cobbled street: glossy black horses, scarlet capes, high hats worn at an angle; and the sour resentful faces of the crowd.' One month later, Russian tanks rolled into Prague. Chatwin by then had joined Elizabeth at the Welches' house in Spetsai. The invasion of Czechoslovakia and the
événements
in Paris that summer passed him by, his concentration focused on the Asia House exhibition. On 7 September Piggott wrote in his diary: âBruce rang up on Monday in London; caught night train; breakfasted with me; collected some books he wanted and returned to London by the 10 a.m. Very mad.' Days afterwards, he flew to New York for a meeting with his fellow curators, Emma Bunker and Ann Farkas.
To Elizabeth Chatwin
1030 Fifth Avenue | New York | [September 1968]
Â
Dear E,
Flight at present is fixed for the morning of the 10th approx 8am.
But
I may have to go to dinner with the Rockinghorses
195
the night before and leave from NY rather than Boston. Possibility of massive research grant from Rockerfeller. Asia House Exhibition neither better nor worse than expected. Emmy [Bunker] is fine but listens to not one word. Ann Farkas severe academic, but not unsympathetic. New possibility of exhibition at Museum of Primitive Art to coincide with Asia House.
English invasion in force. Mr Fish,
196
Blades, Annacat,
197
all up Madison there are slow English drawls. Steph
198
decorating Blades
. Desmond Guinness,
199
David Hicks â
Tous
. Many parties. Charities etc. Go to Philadelphia tomorrow. Atmosphere very nervous with possibility of vast negro vote for Wallace (!) to precipitate to struggle. Please go to Holland if you feel like it but let me know if you're going. Otherwise see you sometime on 10 Oct . . .
Dining with Cousin O'D
200
this evening at 7.0. Brendan & Ali
201
with the Irish Georgians on Tu.
Love B
Â
Chatwinââa compass without a needle' as one friend called him at this time â now replaced Piggott with a new guru. Peter Levi, the Jesuit priest and poet whom he had known since Sotheby's, was teaching in Oxford. Elizabeth says,âI'd go and wander round the Botanical Gardens with my cat while Bruce and Peter talked
in Campion Hall.' For Chatwin, the thin and handsome Levi was a figure of glamour. Levi said: âHe thought it a wonderful idea to have all these pads all over the place: a room at Campion Hall; a room in Athens; a room in Eastbourne, where my mother lived. He wanted from me a way of life that was largely in his imagination. He thought my life was some kind of solution: I travelled and I was a writer.' A main topic of discussion was the introductory essay on nomadic art that Chatwin was contributing to the catalogue for the Asia House exhibition. Levi said: âHe was then in the process of transforming himself from an archaeologist into a writer and so far as any advice was called for, it was I who advised him to make the change. You write in order to change yourself in my view. He was trying to remake his life and become a writer.' Another topic was Afghanistan: Levi had been commissioned by Collins to write a travel book on the Greek influence in Afghanistan. He suggested that Chatwin come with him and take the photographs. âYou can look at nomads and I can look at Greeks.'
To Peter Levi
Holwell Farm | Wotton-under-Edge | Glos | 15 October 1968
Â
Dear Peter,
Many thanks for the poems.
202
It would have been delightful to think that we might have met up on Saturday but I'm afraid that Edinburgh is calling.
My summer was disastrous too, or rather wasteful. I shall not repeat the experiment of travel in the Soviet Union until there is clear sign of a change. Every plan was frustrated, and I'm afraid that most traditional Russian hospitality is a deep-seated desire to see foreigners drunk. I did manage to see Professor Masson
203
under his own table, while reciting a Shakespeare sonnet for the benefit of his wife. It was not worth the supreme effort for I was crippled with a liver attack for days after.
204
I am certainly going to Afghanistan next summer, if not before. I refuse to delay it one moment longer in the interests of spurious scholarship in Eastern Europe. I have been to Lahore, but not to Swat. I have every intention to go to Swat, Dir, Chitral (which I know), Hunza and Baltit. In the Lahore Museum there is a suit of leather armour which belonged to a stray Mongol dessicated in the desert of Sind. We could even try to go to Pir-Sar, which Aurel Stein identified with Alexander's Aornos.
Didn't you find America in a curious calm? A negro told me that the word was out âVote Wallace! He don't give you no shit.' Refugees of 1938 now talk openly of returning to Europe. People discuss when and how the country shall be split. In the Ukraine they talk darkly of big trouble in Lvov, and the Khirgiz virtually push the Muscovites off the pavement. Are the Super-powers superannuated?
I'll try and come and see you soon. Bruce
Â
After attending Andrew Batey's marriage in Pasadena â âBruce gave me a Mogul dagger with a jade handle as a wedding present (for an exquisite death)' â Chatwin returned to Edinburgh on 10 October. He had moved out of the Canongate flat in the summer. On 22 October Stuart Piggott wrote in his diary: âB now staying at the Abercromby Hotel up the road; madder I think. He and/or his marriage will crack up before long.'
In late November Elizabeth drove up to fetch him â they were flying to America for Thanksgiving. She found Chatwin fed up with having to study Roman Britain, and fed up as well with
Piggott, whose attitude towards him, says Elizabeth, had become bizarre to say the least, even frightening. An entry in Chatwin's notebook, one of several on this theme, attest to his mounting suspicion that âmost archaeologists interpret the things of the remote past in terms of their own projected suicide'. Elizabeth says, âMore than once Stuart suggested that the three of us go away and kill ourselves.'
The Chatwins spent Christmas in Geneseo, but Bruce did not reappear in Edinburgh. On 9 January Piggott wrote: âAbsolutely no news of Bruce Chatwin. He came to me in a great state last term saying he was £6, 000 in debt owing to buying the Glos. house, wouldn't take money from Elizabeth's family & simply had to take a job â offered one at £1, 000 a year, one day a week from Christie's. Shot off to London to investigate & hasn't been heard of since.'
CHAPTER FOUR
THE NOMADIC ALTERNATIVE: 1969-72
On their return from Christmas in America Elizabeth asked Bruce: âAren't you going back to Edinburgh?'âNo.' Fired by the example of Peter Levi, Chatwin had fastened on expanding his Asia House essay into a book: his proposed subjectâânomads here, there, past and present.' He hoped that the book would shed light âon what is, for me, the question of questions: the nature of human restlessness'. Almost thirty, Chatwin was mindful of the words of a Marlborough master: âEvery man who ever stretched himself has one book in him
. . .
although it may be a better book if he delays delivering it to publishers until he has attained the age of sixty.' Through the poet Edward Lucie-Smith he met the literary agent Deborah Rogers in London and she agreed to act for him.
To Gertrude Chanler
Holwell Farm | Wotton-under-Edge | Glos | 20 January 1969
Â
Dear Gertrude,
We had such a marvellous time and couldn't have enjoyed ourselves more. It was such a pity about the 'flu. There was a huge storm while we were away that knocked down our windbreak and demolished the local farmer's beech tree, but we remain unscathed. I am going up to town tomorrow in search of a publisher for a book based on the Asia Society Introduction.
205
So I hope that comes off. We are still living in American time and it gets worse rather than better. By next week we shall be sleeping in the day and awake at night. Do let me know if you want me to try and find out anything about those secretarial schools in London for Felicity.
206
Again, many thanks for a lovely Christmas and we hope to see you soon,
love Bruce
To Cary Welch
Holwell Farm | Wotton-under-Edge | Glos | 1 February 1969
Â
Dear Cary,
All well here. The winter is mild and delicious, and I am sure we shall have to expect snow in April. We have been planting more trees and the first snowdrops and crocuses have appeared. Charles Tomlinson
207
and I go for long walks and we are planning an anthology of shaman poetry.
Mariano
208
called today and wondered what effect his letter had had on you. I told him I didn't think much, because you couldn't understand it. It now seems that he may accompany Andrew [Batey] and I to Egypt in March and if so that will be a real
fête triangulaire
the outcome of which is hard to see.
Asia House sent today the very good photograph of the Mogul carpet fragment. Now could you set one of your students on to the matter and do my homework for me? What I want to know is this? What are the immediate origins for this particular design, the animal symplegma? Is there anything in it that we can specifically connect with Central Asia, such as the northern influences that come into Tabriz. I want just a few notes, scholarly and to the point, and then I shall swing it on my academic ladies whether they like it or no. My part of the exhibition does, I have to say, become more and more difficult as more and more European museums refuse to lend or offer to send casts or electrotypes. In my view there is NO substitute for the real thing that is worth bothering with, and one might just as well use photographs. The latest blow is the British Museum, all lovely and pliable on the phone to Gordon;
209
when it comes to the point of course, they have A. done nothing about it B. tell me IN CONFIDENCE (mark you!) that they intend sending the Trustees a report counselling against their dispatch to America, and letting the Trustees then decide for themselves. Upon refusal the Trustees are to blame for helping to spoil an important exhibition, because of course the matter was entirely out of their hands, and what can one do with Trustees like that anyhow? The Peabody have kindly consented to one bear mask and a Hallstatt bull.
I am having a fine time dashing up to London seeing publishers from which I hope that something will emerge. At present I am focussing my attention and blandishments on Mr Maschler,
210
who was the publishing genius behind
The Naked Ape
, but am resisting a recent account of art auctioneering to be called
An Ascension Myth
in favour of a work on nomads here, there, past and present.
The cat
211
is sick and I have been buying a number of silly bits from Christopher,
212
who is lovelier than ever.
Love B
Tell the darling not to fret about her tea caddy as I shall buy her a lovely one in plastic.
To Tom Maschler
Holwell Farm | Wotton-under-Edge | Glos | 24 February 1969
Â
Dear Tom,
You asked me to write you a letter about my proposed book on nomads. I cannot provide a history of nomads. It would take years to write. In any case I want the book to be general rather than specialist in tone. The question I will try to answer is âWhy do men wander rather than sit still?' I have proposed one title â
The Nomadic Alternative
. We obviously won't use it. It is too rational a title for a subject that appeals to irrational instincts. For the moment it has the advantage of implying that the nomad's life is not inferior to the city dweller's. I have to try and see the nomads as they see themselves, looking outwards at civilisation with envy or mistrust. By civilisation I mean âlife in cities', and by civilised those who live within the ambit of literate urban civilisation. All civilisations are based on regimentation and rational behaviour. Nomads are uncivilised and all the words traditionally used in connection with them are charged with civilised prejudices â vagrant, vagabond, shifty, barbarian, savage, etc. Wandering nomads are bound to be a disruptive influence but they have been blamed out of all proportion to the material damage they cause. This blame is rationalised and justified by false piety. The nomads are excluded; they are outcasts. Cain âwandered over the surface of the earth.'
The first chapter might ask the question â âWhy wander?' It could start with the Greek legend of Io and her compulsive wandering, and be called
Io's Gadfly
(if that's not too trite). The word ânomad' comes from words meaning âto pasture' but it has come to apply to the earliest hunters as well. Hunters and herdsmen shift for economic reasons. Less obvious are the reasons for nomads' intransigence in face of settlement even when the economic inducements are overwhelmingly in its favour. But the mutual antagonism of citizen and nomad is only one half of the theme. The other is much nearer home â ESCAPISM (a good personal reason for writing the book). Why do I become restless after a month in a single place, unbearable after two? (I am, I admit, a bad case). Some travel for business. But there is no economic reason for me to go, and every reason to stay put. My motives, then, are materially irrational. What is this neurotic restlessness, the gadfly that tormented the Greeks? Wandering may settle some of my natural curiosity and my urge to explore, but then I am tugged back by a longing for home. I have a compulsion to wander and a compulsion to return â a homing instinct like a migrating bird. True nomads have no fixed home as such; they
compensate
for this by following unalterable paths of migration. If these are upset it is usually by interference from the civilised or semi-civilised half-nomads. The result is chaos. Nomads develop exaggerated fixations about their tribal territory. âLand is the basis of our nation. We shall fight,' said a nomad chief of the 2nd century BC. He cheerfully gave away his best horse, all his treasure and his favourite wife, but fought to the death for a few miles of useless scrub. This obsession for tribal land lies behind the tragedy of the Near East. The High Seas do not evoke quite the same emotional response, and territorial waters lie close to land. Sailors' emotions are directed towards the feminised ship that carries them far and their home port.