SELLING THE FAMILY SILVER
It appears contradictory that Graham Greene, despite being a self-confessed bibliophile, did
not appear to place particular personal value on the manuscript and working drafts of his own
writings – unique accounts of his life as a writer and of his individual creativity. He gave
some away to those he loved, he donated others to charity and from the 1960s onwards he
sold them, principally to institutions in the USA. But which documents were disposed of,
where did they end up and why were they sold?
There is a good deal of information in the Greene collection at Boston College and elsewhere
in the form of auction house catalogues, correspondence and other items which provide some
answers to these questions. The first and most significant sale was made in May 1964. The
Sotheby’s Catalogue, under the heading ‘The Property of the Author’s Family’, lists 23 lots.
These include most of the early novels, from The Man Within (1929) to a Burnt-Out Case
(1961), together with the screenplays for Our Man in Havana and Saint Joan, the short story
collection A Sense of Reality, the play Carving a Statue and the travel journal In Search of a
Character. Typically these comprise first holograph drafts on lined foolscap paper complete
with handwritten amendments. In some instances typescripts for later editions have been
added, often accompanied by texts with further alterations, providing evidence of the writer’s
changing attitude to his work over time.
Additionally, there were four lots belonging to Dorothy Glover sold at the same auction.
These included items relating to two of the children’s books over which they had
collaborated, together with the screenplay of Brighton Rock and the manuscript of The
Ministry of Fear, the latter having been written during the most intense phase of their
relationship. Glover died in November 1971 and the following year a further twenty lots
consisting of published copies of Greene’s books, mostly with personal inscriptions, were
sold as part of the disposal of her estate.
Greene had been helping to gather material for this sale for over a year. In June 1963 he
wrote to his friend John Carter who worked for Sotheby’s, that Catherine Walston had the
manuscripts of The Heart of the Matter, The Third Man and Loser Takes All, adding, ‘She
also has two heavily corrected typescripts of The Living Room and a heavily corrected
typescript of The Quiet American. None of these will come on the market’. Greene also
contacted his estranged wife asking ‘just for the record of provenance which John Carter is
making’ if she had the original The Heart of the Matter manuscript as well as The Name of
Action which he knew to be in her possession. Vivien notes rather testily at the bottom of
Greene’s letter that most of the manuscripts of his early works had been given to her but had
been ‘borrowed’ for The Festival of Britain in 1951 and never returned. She refrains from
naming the likely culprit.
News of the Sotheby’s sale provoked a reaction in the press. An article in The Daily Mail in
April 1964 with the headline, ‘A Great Wad of Greenery Springs a Big Surprise’ claimed in
rather sneering tones that the author was ‘right up with the current authors’ practice of
flogging any manuscript they happen to have lying about’. This was a specific reference to
Carving a Statue and the fact that the play would not premiere for a further six months.
Embarrassingly, the article provided details of the plot. Greene later regretted its inclusion in
the sale, adding in a letter to his agent, ‘…it hadn’t occurred to me that one of those snooping
reporters would go round and read it’. Laurence Pollinger himself first learned of the sale
after reading The Daily Mail. He wrote to Greene rather aggrievedly, ‘Until I read what Mr
Grenville sets out I had no idea you were selling your manuscripts’.
The 1964 collection was purchased by the Humanities Research Center (HRC) at the
University of Texas. The sale was brokered through Lew Feldman’s House of El Dieff in
New York and set the pattern for the next fifteen years during which a large number of other
manuscripts were sold privately to the HRC via Sotheby’s and El Dieff. For example, in 1966
John Carter sent Greene’s secretary an extensive list of some 34 items, or groups of items,
which were being prepared for sale. These included Greene’s personal journals, articles and
introductions to books, film-scripts, abandoned or unfinished novels, short stories and plays.
Surprisingly, given Greene’s experience with Carving a Statue, the manuscripts and
typescripts of nine stories from the May We Borrow Your Husband? collection, yet to be
published, together with the working papers and various manuscripts relating to The
Comedians published that same year were included in the list. Greene’s obvious desire to
keep on friendly terms with the HRC is demonstrated by the fact that he gifted the galleys
and proof copies of the published version of Carving a Statue together with other typescripts
of the play.
The good relationship with the University of Texas lasted through most of the 1970s. In
September 1973 John Carter wrote to Lew Feldman informing him that his client was looking
to sell manuscripts relating to his autobiography A Sort of Life and to his novel The Honorary
Consul, due to be published in a few days’ time. Additionally, Carter sent details of over 40
other manuscripts which included more unpublished fiction, essays and personal diaries.
Over a decade later, there is a suggestion that Greene might have considered he had been too
hasty in letting go of some more personal papers which documented aspects of his personal
life he had always striven to remain confidential. In 1985 his sister Elisabeth wrote to
Greene’s agent concerned that the content of a recent BBC programme had suggested that
one of their researchers had been ‘delving around in Texas University’. She reminded him
that Graham had expressly stated that only Norman Sherry should have access to these
archives.
In April 1979 there was a dispute over a late payment for a manuscript. This was attributed
to a change in administration at the HRC. Six months later, Louise Dennys in her capacity as
Greene’s secretary, instructed Sotheby’s that either the money should be forthcoming from
Texas or the manuscript returned.
Thus an intervention by Joseph Jeffs at this point was most timely. The Georgetown
University librarian wrote to Greene in November 1979 explaining that his institution had
recently bought the manuscript of For Whom the Bell Chimes as part of a move to increase
their holdings of Catholic writers and intellectuals. Greene replied affirmatively with an offer
of some correspondence with Edith Sitwell. Jeffs responded eloquently, ‘Alas! we are a
johnny-come-lately on the scene, trailing in the smoke of the all-consuming University of
Texas behemoth’.
This early exchange between writer and librarian marked the start of the type of warm,
personal relationship over professional matters which Greene relished. In this case it lasted
for the rest of Greene’s life. Jeffs and his wife visited Antibes and the writer went to
Georgetown in October 1985. Significantly, in 1981 Greene wrote to Jeffs that he liked the
idea of Georgetown becoming ‘the eventual repository of my journals and diaries and other
correspondence’.
As a result, Georgetown University acquired a number of Greene’s later manuscripts
together with some unpublished writings and working notes. Probably as important, Greene
persuaded Harry Walston to sell his late wife’s collection to the University – admittedly for
tax reasons. This collection included over 1200 letters and cards written to Catherine, a
number of manuscripts and her personal library of books by Greene, many containing
personal inscriptions. Other notable collections pertaining to Greene were acquired
subsequently, some on the basis of the writer’s advice. These included those of Hugh and
James Greene, Fr. Leopoldo Durán, Anita Bjȍrk and Greene’s officially appointed
bibliographers Alan Redway and Neil Brennan.
After Greene’s death a third North American university, Boston College, bought a sizeable
number of manuscripts and certainly the largest single collection of correspondence extant.
The vast majority of the letters by Greene are file copies kept by the writer’s successive
secretaries.
Why did Graham Greene decide to dispose of these valuable working manuscripts and other
writings? Was he simply following a trend among fellow writers when he sold the first batch
in 1964? The Daily Mail journalist quoted above certainly thought so. But that would not
have been in character. Did he need the money? At the time he was apparently financially
secure. The Thomas Roe affair, which was to reveal that he had been robbed of his foreign
rights income by a corrupt financial adviser, was still a year away.
The first intimation that the writer was thinking of selling his manuscripts is to be found in a
letter to John Carter in March 1963. Greene states that a recent discussion with his accountant
had made him conscious of the future, his estate duties and his beneficiaries. He thinks he has
around fifteen manuscripts and would like Carter’s opinion on the timing of any sale, given
that in future there was likely to be a reduced output of work and what he describes as ‘a drop
in fashion’.
Consequently, the proceeds from both the 1964 and 1966 sales, the first of which Greene
stated had been ‘more than I had hoped for’, were divided equally between Vivien and his
two children. But why was the decision taken to sell the first, and most important group of his
works, in 1964? The obvious conclusion is that John Carter must have felt the time was right
to maximise profit from the sale. But was there another more personal reason which drove
Greene to expedite this matter?
Around this time he seemed to be convinced that the end of his life was fast approaching. In
the manuscript copy of his introduction to Les Oeuvres Choisis, written in 1964, he pictured
himself as ‘the tattered leader of a tired column pressing on towards a final frontier’. He
developed this image in a frank and pessimistic succession of diary entries written around the
time of his sixtieth birthday while he was languishing in rented accommodation in Antibes. In
what turned out to be a short-lived journal, he persuaded himself that he was entering his last
decade and had just one more novel left to write. It would seem therefore that his mood at the
time persuaded Greene that it was timely to make provision for those who would outlive him.
After the effect of the Roe scandal had passed he was to state on more than one occasion that
he did not need to write for money any more. Any earnings he did accrue would simply
benefit family members.
Thus it is that archives in the United States rather than Britain are profoundly richer as a
result. But why that should be is another matter entirely.
Jon Wise