1921-1929 — Paris years, early success, first divorce and second marriage - Part IV

EACH of these essays/entries is intended to stand alone, so there is a certain degree of duplication in them as it is unlikely they will be read in sequence or even that all will be read by a visitor to these pages. This is intentional: someone reading an essay/entry must not be puzzled by some allusion she or he might not understand because they have not read the other essays/entries.

 


With no way to know it in advance, Ernest Hemingway had found among all the available women in Paris not the prettiest, not the richest, but the one best suited to his situation with his career about to burgeon. He no longer needed a devoted Hadley leaning heavily upon his lead. What he needed now was a wife to help manage his career, a woman who can make decisions and take care of yourself a woman like Pauline Pfeiffer.
Michael Reynolds, Hemingway: The Homecoming.

So long as he published with “little” or literary magazines like The Quarter or transatlantic review or with Left Bank publishers of limited editions like Robert McAlmon, Hemingway was one of a crowd, a piece of the Montparnasse firmament, fitting comfortably into his niche. . . Hemingway’s move to Boni & Liveright with In Our Time raised him only slightly among his peers. However, when he signed the Charles Scribner’s Sons contract, Hemingway moved into the major league. That the shift took place at the same time that he was ridding himself of Hadley and moving to a more sophisticated woman seems to have been coincidental, but it was all of a piece with his life.’
Michael Reynolds, Hemingway: The Homecoming

HEMINGWAY’S infatuation with Duff Twysden had faded once he and Hadley had left Pamplona and he began writing his novel. It was replaced by his growing friendship with Pauline Pfeiffer which within months developed into a full affair. Initially, Pfeiffer made the running, but by Christmas she and Hemingway were close enough for him to invite her to join him and his family on their annual holiday in Schruns, Austria. With Hadley in bed nursing a bad cold for part of the holiday, Pfeiffer and Hemingway spent a great deal of time together.

For a while Pfeiffer (right) and Hemingway — and even Hadley — maintained the fiction that all three were simply very good, close friends who were fond of each other, and biographers remark that Hadley’s apparent passivity might to Hemingway have seemed to be an unspoken acquiescence.

Many years later Hadley told Michael Reynolds that because her husband had been so good-looking, many women threw themselves at him and he often openly flirted with them, but she had persuaded herself almost to the last that his feelings for Pfeiffer would blow over like all his other infatuations. In the third volume of his biography, Hemingway: The Homecoming, Reynolds observes

In Schruns, when she first saw the pattern forming, she could have challenged her husband’s fascination with Pauline, but that was not her way . . . When he came in from moonlight walks with Pauline, she had made light of it.

Whether or not Hemingway and Pfeiffer first slept together in Schruns as has been suggested or it wasn’t until he stayed with her in Paris on his way to New York at the end of January is not known; but in the first version of his memoir A Moveable Feast, edited by his widow Mary from the various manuscripts he had worked and published in 1964, he chose to portray himself as having been led astray by predatory rich folk and the guile of a young woman.

In that version, Hemingway recalls he felt terrible that, once back in Europe from his New York trip in February 1925, he did not immediately return to his family in Schruns and had spent a few more days with Pfeiffer, and that his heart broke when he was met by Hadley and his young son at Schruns rail station. Forty-five years later, in 2009 in a new version of A Moveable Feast, re-edited from the same collection of manuscripts by his grandson, Sean, Hemingway acknowledges that because he had encouraged Pfeiffer in her pursuit, irrespective of the pain it was causing Hadley, he was equally to blame for the break-up of his marriage.

Once Pfeiffer had left Schruns to return to Paris in mid-January, Hemingway and Hadley were joined by John Dos Passos and Gerald and Sara Murphy, a very wealthy American couple who now lived in their Villa America (where a great many early well-known 20th century artists, writers and composers pitched up) in Juan Le Pins near Antibes in the South of France and were friends with both Dos Passos and Pfeiffer. They — Hemingway describes Dos Passos as the ‘pilot fish’ which led the ‘predatory rich folk’ (the Murphys) of his memoir — were an intricate part of the new and wealthier social world Hemingway 
was entering in which, it became ever clearer, Hadley had no part. The Murphys (left), especially Gerald, who, according to Michael Reynolds, almost hero-worshipped Hemingway, had joined the Hemingway fan club and were already persuaded that he had a great literary future; and they believed chic and sophisticated Pfeiffer would make a more suitable wife for a writer than down-to-earth but dowdy Hadley. Hadley’s days as the first Mrs Ernest Hemingway were numbered.

The crisis in her marriage to Hemingway’s came to a head after Hadley was invited by Pauline Pfeiffer to join her and her sister, Jinny, on a short break, a road trip through the Loire valley. It was an odd few days. During the trip, Pfeiffer was by turns friendly and snappy with Hadley, who finally asked Jinny whether she thought Pauline was in love with her husband. Jinny’s vague and unhelpful, though telling, response was to admit that Pauline and Hemingway were ‘rather fond’ of each other. Reynolds reports:

Back in Paris [Hadley] asked her husband straight out what it was between himself and Pauline . . . He could not help it, he claimed. It happened, it was happening, and there was nothing he could do about it. If Hadley had not brought it out in the open, it would not have become a problem. Somehow it was Hadley’s fault. The marriage was to last for only another few months.

. . . 

In April Hemingway finished revising and re-writing the manuscript for his novel, and towards the end of the month he finally sent it off to Max Perkins at Scribner’s. Another trip to the San Fermin festival in Pamplona was scheduled for July, but first Hemingway planned to go to Madrid for several weeks to attend the San Isodro festival, to write and to watch some bullfights.

Hadley and their young son John (but known as Bumby) travelled to the South of France to stay with the Murphys where Hemingway was to join them. The lad had a persistent cough, however, that was diagnosed by a local doctor as whooping cough; the Murphys became fearful for their own children’s health and thought it best that Bumby and Hadley should be quarantined. Scott Fitzgerald and Zelda then offered her the use of the villa they were renting nearby until the lease expired in the middle of June as they had decided to move to another larger villa.

While he was in Madrid, Hemingway sent Hadley a series of letters reproaching her for not joining him, and she became increasingly angry that he did not consider the strain she was under: she was taking care of their ill son she told him, and she was broke and was relying on the food the Murphys were supplying. Finally, at the end of May — on the day The Torrents Of Spring was published — Hemingway joined them all from Madrid.

Pfeiffer had already arrived from Paris and had gone to stay with Hadley (she explained that she’d had whooping cough as a child and was in no danger). When in mid-June the lease on the Fitzgerald villa ended, she, the Hemingways, their son and their Paris cook cum housekeeper Marie Rohrbach (who had arrived from Paris to nurse Bumby) all moved to a small hotel. And there the pretence that Hemingway, Pfeiffer and Hadley were just very good, very close friends who doted on each other was carried on, with Pfeiffer even joining Hemingway and Hadley for breakfast in bed.

At the beginning of July, Bumby was taken back to Paris by Rohrbach and Hemingway, Hadley, Pfeiffer and the Murphys travelled to Spain to spend two weeks in Pamplona and enjoy that year’s San Fermin festival in the second week. For the Murphys those two weeks were a new and extraordinary experience — the ‘most intense moments of their lives’ — and in a letter Gerald sent Hemingway and Hadley within days of it ending he described the bullfighters as living
‘. . . in a region all their own — and alone each, somewhere between art and life — and eclipsing at times each of them — make you feel that you are as you find other people — half-alive. They are a religion for which I could have been trained. This knocked at my heart all the time I was at Pamplona’.
One wonders how the younger Hemingway, the new arrival in Paris who purported to despise ‘the phoneys’ he encountered in Montparnasse, would have reacted to such vacuous gush. Perhaps the Hemingway who read that letter and who was in the process of re-inventing himself as a serious and successful writer and who rather liked being friends with the rich Murphy’s had become rather more tolerant.

When the festival ended, the party took off from Pamplona to San Sebastian on Spain’s northern coast, from where Hemingway and Hadley set off for a small tour of bullfights. The Murphys and Pfeiffer carried on to Bayonne, for a train to Cap d’Antibes and Paris respectively. Writing a postcard from Bayonne station buffet, Sara Murphy anticipated her husband’s flowery rhapsody with one of her own. She wrote
As for you two children: You grace the earth. You’re so right, because you’re so close to what’s elemental. Your values are hitched up to the universe. We’re proud to know you. Yours are the things that count. They’re a gift to those who see them too.

It was a distinctly different tone to the one she would adopt eight weeks later in a note to Hemingway once he and Hadley had separated.

It was in Spain, apparently in a number of heated arguments, one caused by a letter from Pfeiffer, now back in Paris, that stated — between the lines although quite unmistakeably — that she would ‘get’ Hemingway (she wrote ‘I get everything I want’) that he and Hadley decided to end their marriage. One their way back to Paris they called in at Juan-le-Pins, where Hemingway picked up the galley proofs for The Sun Also Rises which Perkins had sent him, and it was their train journey back to Paris which became the basis for the short story A Canary For One, written in the weeks after the break-up.

. . . 

Neither returned to their flat in rue Notre Dame des Champs: Hadley moved into a small hotel and Hemingway had been given the use of the studio Gerald Murphy had worked in when he was still painting in Paris a few years earlier. Hadley was still persuading herself that Hemingway’s affair with Pfeiffer was just another passing infatuation. She thought that if she gave Hemingway time and space, he would tire of Pfeiffer and their affair would blow over as had his infatuation with Duff Twsyden. Hemingway and Pfeiffer, though, had other ideas and planned to marry as soon as Hemingway was free of Hadley.

For the first few weeks after their separation Hadley and Hemingway continued to meet up, but all too often these occasions ended in acrimony and bitter rows. Reynolds says the rowing was usually about money: Hadley had it, although she was soon obliged to pay rent on both the new flat on the rue de Fleurus near Gertrude Stein’s apartment she moved into and the dingy one in the rue de Notre Dames des


The string of well-known friends who Gerald and Sara Murphy (far left and far right) had to stay at their Villa America in Juan-les-Pin on the French Riviera included Pablo Picasso, Jean Cocteau, Igor Stravinsky and Cole Porter (second right), pictured with the wealthy couple and a friend in Venice


Champs, and Hemingway had very little. The cost of their extended summer break in Antibes, Pamplona and Spain had eaten up most of the advance his publisher Scribner’s had given him for The Sun Also Rises, and realising his predicament, Gerald Murphy had, unbidden, deposited $400 (about 8,000FF to 1,000FF, in 2020 about $5,863) in his bank account to tide him over.

Gerald and Sara Murphy took Hemingway’s side in the split with Hadley, although 34 years later they, the predatory rich folk and his, by then former, friend John dos Passos as the ‘pilot fish’ of his memoir A Moveable Feast were blamed for causing the breakdown. Gerald had long convinced himself that Hemingway was a writer of genius to whom Hadley was unable to give the kind of support a genius would need.

When he and Sara heard of Hemingway’s and Hadley’s had separated, and concerned about how Hemingway might be coping, they travelled up to Paris from the South of France at the end of August and had supper with Hemingway and Hadley. Later Sara, in stark contrast to the sentimental and pretentious description of the couple in her postcard from Bayonne two months earlier, wrote to Hemingway about his desire to leave Hadley, and giving the separation her blessing she wrote:

In the end you will probably save us all by refusing (among other things) to accept second-rate things, places, ideas or human nature. Bless you & and don’t budge’.

To biographer Michael Reynolds it is clear that Sara now regarded Hadley as ‘second-rate’, and it is hard to disagree with Reynolds’ view. For his part Gerald was more concerned that Hemingway’s resolve to leave Hadley might slowly weaken, and he wrote to him about his fear, declaring that Hemingway might be deterred from ‘acting cleanly’. Reynolds suggests this was unambiguous advice to press ahead with his plans to divorce Hadley.

By mid-September Hadley, weary of the arguments which invariably reduced her to tears, decided it would be best for both her and Hemingway if they no longer met. She still hoped for an eventual reconciliation, but informed Hemingway at a dinner with their friends Paul and Winifred Mowrer that if he and Pfeiffer did not see each other for 100 days but they still wanted to be together once the time was up, he would get his divorce.

Hadley hoped that absence would not make the heart grow fonder and that Hemingway and Pfeiffer’s affair would peter out. They, however, accepted her terms as a means of getting Hemingway’s divorce from Hadley, though they feared they would be unable to stay apart for three months if both lived near each other in Paris and Pfeiffer, who had anyway been planning to return to her family home in Piggott, Arkansas, for Christmas, left France ten days later.

The following months were not pleasant for Hemingway, who now had neither Hadley nor Pfeiffer for company. He had already corrected the galley proofs for The Sun Also Rises and sent them back to Scribner’s at the end of August. Now he spent his time writing short stories for a second collection. Thought he dined out with a few friends, he was largely left to his own devices in Gerald Murphy’s large cold studio and he did not like it one bit.

In mid-October he and his friend Archibald MacLeish took off to Zaragoza for a few days to attend a festival, but once back in Paris he was again thrown back onto his own company and, his biographers stress, he hated being alone. He had avoided his old Montparnasse haunts and his cafe acquaintances since he and Hadley had separated because he did not want repeatedly to explain the circumstances of what had happened. And although he and Pfeiffer had promised to write to each other every day, her letters did not arrive regularly and Hemingway sank deeper and deeper into depression. At one point he became so low that he wrote to Pfeiffer histrionically that if the matter of a divorce from Hadley had not been settled by Christmas he would kill himself. Ironically, he had made the same threat in the weeks before his marriage to Hadley.

. . . 

While married to Hemingway, Hadley had consciously played ‘the dutiful, supporting wife’ despite Gerald Murphy’s belief that the Hemingway marriage had failed precisely because Hadley had not given, and could not give, him the support he needed as a writer. But over the years she had suffered under his emotional ups and downs. On the dynamic of Hemingway and Hadley’s relationship, Reynolds quotes Zelda Fitzgerald:
Frequently needling the Hemingways [Zelda] told Hadley one day, ‘I notice that in the Hemingway family you do what Ernest wants’. Hemingway did not much care for the remark, but, as Hadley said later, it was perceptive of Zelda about Ernest wanting everything his way.
Reynolds adds that after she had split from Hemingway Hadley seemed to blossom and come out of herself more and more, and observes
The five years of her marriage to Hemingway had toughened her up more than she had realised. Now, for the first time in her life, she was free to live as she pleased and how she pleased, answering to no one
. . . Despite the ache of loss, Hadley discovered a new wholeness to herself . . . no longer tied to Ernest’s emotional roller-coaster. Perhaps her highs would no longer reach the peaks they had with him, but then neither would she have to face his suicidal lows.
As Hadley’s new self-confidence grew she increasingly felt able to move on and finally decided that the separation she had imposed on Hemingway and Pfeiffer was not to last the full 100 days.

. . . 

Hadley’s friends Paul and Winfred Mowrer had grown apart and had amicably agreed to separate, and Winifred, who had noticed the increasing fondness of Hadley and her husband for each other encouraged them to get more involved. (Paul and Hadley eventually married). She and Hadley had decided to spend ten days in Chartres at the beginning of November to see the sights, and away from Paris and all its pressures and concerns, Hadley had her change of heart about the 100-day separation she had insisted on. The day before she returned to Paris from Chartres, she wrote to Hemingway informing him he could have his divorce, although he had to divorce her and foot all the legal bills incurred by the proceedings. Hemingway readily agreed.

Although Hemingway would not be free to marry Pfeiffer for another six months, until after the divorce was finalised, he perked up immediately. He wired Pfeiffer in Arkansas to return to Paris immediately. She wired back that she had just been offered a staff job with Vogue in New York, but in an echo of Zelda Fitzgerald’s gibe that the Hemingway family always did what Ernest wanted, Hemingway made it plain she should not accept the job but join him in Paris. She turned the job down. He found a lawyer to deal with his divorce and proceedings were initiated by the first week of December.

In the weeks before Christmas Hemingway was made aware that Sherwood Anderson was visiting Paris, but he did not make contact for ten days when, unable to avoid a meeting, he and Anderson met for a drink on Christmas Eve. It was the first time they had seen each other after Hemingway’s novella The Torrents Of Spring lampooning Anderson had been published. Hemingway claims the meeting was a pleasant and friendly and they had several drinks together before parting amicably. Anderson tells a different story. He says the occasion was stilted, that Hemingway was very uncomfortable and soon depart once they had once quick drink together.

The following day, December 25, Hemingway left for Gastaad where he spent Christmas with Pfeiffer’s sister Jinny and Archibald and Ada MacLeish. Hadley and the Mowrers had travelled to Schruns, the Hemingway’s old haunt in Austria, and according to Reynolds this was when the transformation Hemingway was undergoing became more apparent: when in Schruns, he and Hadley had led an easy-going life and in the two months that they usually stayed Hemingway let his hair grow unchecked and acquired a beard.

Now in the more genteel and upper-class Gastaad he habitually wore a tweed suit (which Pfeiffer had bought him) and his facial hair was restricted to a neatly clipped moustache. The metamorphosis of Hemingway from semi-bohemian iconoclast into the respected author of was well underway. Five days after Christmas, Pfeiffer sailed from New York for Europe, and nine days later Hemingway travelled to Cherbourg to bring her Gastaad.

Towards the end of January the proceedings divorcing Hemingway from Hadley passed their first stage and they would not be finalised for another three months. Yet even once the divorce was complete, he and Pfeiffer still had to wait a few weeks before they could marry. Halfway through March Hemingway took a last bachelor trip, joining his journalist friend Guy Hickok on ten-day jaunt to and around fascist northern Italy. He and Pfeiffer were finally married on May 10.

. . . 


Pauline Pfeiffer’s wealthy but childless Uncle

Gus, who doted on his niece and whose 

generosity benefited Hemingway greatly: he

paid the rent on the couple’s Paris flat, bought

them a new Ford Roadster, paid for their house

in Key West, Florida, and its renovation and

footed the bills for their East African safari

Since returning from Gastaad, Pfeiffer and her sister had found and organised a new apartment for the couple, with — it’s tempting to say as usual — Pfeiffer’s doting uncle Gus picking up the many bills involved in entering the lease. (Throughout his marriage to Pfeiffer, again and again Hemingway benefited considerably from Uncle Gus’s generosity — when they arrived in Key West via Cuba on their way home to America, he had bought them a new Ford Roadster; when they decided to settle in Key West, he bought them the house they had their eye on; when Hemingway announced he wanted to go on safari to East Africa, Uncle Gus gave Ernest and Pauline $25,000 ($501,000 in 2020) to pay for the trip.)

Although their apartment was far bigger and nicer than the down-at-heel walk-up Hemingway and Hadley had lived in in rue Notre Dames des Champs, it was barely more expensive. But now, of course, Hemingway’s life had moved on and he no longer saw himself as a dedicated writer starving for his art in a garret: now he was an established and published author, a serious man of letters.

Yet although he was no longer ‘starving’ — and, in truth, had never starved despite the claims he later increasingly made — he was still not able to live off the money his writing earned him. He had signed over all royalties, current and future, from The Sun Also Rises to Hadley (a decision he later bitterly complained about) and although on the back of his success his short stories were selling, none was attracting anywhere near the fabulous sums his friend Scott Fitzgerald had been paid for his short fiction.

This was at the root of another irony: despite in many ways being different — Hadley was tall and matronly whereas Pfeiffer was short and petite — both the wife Hemingway had just discarded and the one he had just acquired, were not just several years older than him but both were the major source of his income. Though the Hemingway persona had now evolved, he was still not the writer earning his living from his work he had set out to be when, seven years earlier, he had landed in Paris. And as one of his better short stories, The Snows Of Kilimanjaro, made clear, it rankled that he was still obliged to live of his wife’s wealth.

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