The Letters of Noel Coward [NOOK Book]


Lavishly illustrated and annotated, this first and definitive collection of letters to and from Coward provides a divine portrait of an age, from the Blitz to the Ritz and beyond.

The incomparable Noël Coward loved to correspond with friends, enemies, the famous and infamous, the talented and the powerful, including Virginia Woolf, Winston Churchill, Greta Garbo, Laurence Olivier, Katharine Hepburn, Marlene Dietrich, Lawrence of Arabia, ...
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The Letters of Noel Coward

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Lavishly illustrated and annotated, this first and definitive collection of letters to and from Coward provides a divine portrait of an age, from the Blitz to the Ritz and beyond.

The incomparable Noël Coward loved to correspond with friends, enemies, the famous and infamous, the talented and the powerful, including Virginia Woolf, Winston Churchill, Greta Garbo, Laurence Olivier, Katharine Hepburn, Marlene Dietrich, Lawrence of Arabia, Somerset Maugham, and many more. Granted unlimited access to the Coward archive, Barry Day presents many never-published letters and has unearthed new, startling evidence of Coward's wartime work as a spy. Along with 191 rare photographs, these letters bring to life the people and events that shaped the twentieth century—and a remarkable man who made his own indelible mark at the heart of it.

From the Trade Paperback edition.
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Editorial Reviews

John Simon
…what we get is much more than just Coward's letters, however delectable. We also get letters to Coward, many of them as entertaining as the recipient's, for he corresponded with some of the mightiest pens in literature and show business…especially important is what Barry Day does with all these letters to and from Coward: he provides copious amplifications and explanations, biographical data and background material. The result is a first-class biography right up there with those by Cole Lesley and Sheridan Morley. There is also a lot of juicy gossip, some of it documented, some speculative…
—The New York Times Book Review
Janet Maslin
As edited by Barry Day, whose other books have been devoted to Dorothy Parker, P. G. Wodehouse, Oscar Wilde and Sherlock Holmes as well as Coward, these letters highlight not only the meringue wit that obviously delights Mr. Day but also Coward's processes of growth and self-discovery…The Letters of Noel Coward is a transporting epistolary portrait of great range and agility…
—The New York Times
Publishers Weekly

Writers labor to come up with lines half as good as those Noël Coward dropped into the mailbox every day-"I felt that some sort of scene was necessary to celebrate my first entrance into America, so I said, 'Little lamb, who made thee,' to a customs official." The playwright, actor and songwriter is in fine form in these missives, telegrams and poems (he would rhyme almost anything, even communications to his business manager), presented along with return mail from friends and luminaries. Day (Coward on Film: The Cinema of Noel Coward) arranges the well-chosen selections in roughly chronological order with some unobtrusive narrative context; at times he spotlights a lifelong correspondence with a single person to flesh out Coward's relationships, such as with Gertrude Lawrence. Coward's voice is charming, whimsical, sharp-eyed and canny, often alternating, in the showbiz way, between effusive warmth (letter to Tallulah Bankhead: "Thank you very much, darling, for all your sweetness and your insane generosity") and cutting putdown (letter about Tallulah Bankhead: "a conceited slut"). A true intellectual of the stage, his comments on the nitty-gritty of writing, pacing, character and acting technique are incisive. Fans of Coward's plays and students of 20th-century theater will be fascinated, but casual readers will also find an entertaining browse. Photos. (Nov. 16)

Copyright 2007 Reed Business Information
Library Journal

In this first collection of its kind, Day (trustee, Noel Coward Fdn.; Noel Coward: In His Own Words) ties together letters both to and from his subject with chatty commentary that makes for an entertaining account of Coward's life and the times in which he lived. Coverage of this versatile actor, dramatist, composer, librettist, lyricist, director, artist, writer, singer, and wit begins with his early childhood and ends with his death in 1973. The letters reveal Coward's relationships with a broad range of personalities in the arts and other areas, e.g., writers George Bernard Shaw, Edna Ferber, and Somerset Maugham; actors Gertrude Lawrence, Alfred Lunt, and Marlene Dietrich; and Winston Churchill and the Queen Mother. Highlights include Coward's correspondence with his beloved mother and those with whom he was involved in government service during World War II. Extensively illustrated with photos and drawings; recommended for academic and larger public libraries.
—Denise J. Stankovics

From the Publisher
"Not your usual epistolary collection. . . . Day has woven Coward's letters into a beautifully rounded text that reads more like a life portrait." —Los Angeles Times"Glitters with the multi-gifted playwright's claws-out bitchiness, tremendous charm, and creative genius. . . . His letters are absolute knockouts." —Vanity Fair"Superb. . . . The portrait of a complex, charming, driven, serious and, frankly, courageous artist. . . . History of the most valuable kind." —The Wall Street Journal
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780307537423
  • Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
  • Publication date: 12/30/2008
  • Sold by: Random House
  • Format: eBook
  • Pages: 800
  • File size: 16 MB
  • Note: This product may take a few minutes to download.

Meet the Author

Barry Day is a Fellow of the Royal Society of Arts (FRSA) and a trustee of the Noël Coward Foundation. In addition to his seven previous books on Noël Coward, he has written about Dorothy Parker, Oscar Wilde, Johnny Mercer, and Rodgers & Hart. Day was awarded the OBE (Order of the British Empire) "for services to British culture in the United States."

From the Trade Paperback edition.
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Read an Excerpt



A star danced . . . and under it you were born.


The three most important women in Noël’s life were undoubtedly his mother, Violet (who gave him his drive), Esmé Wynne (who inspired him to write), and Gertrude Lawrence (who was often his Muse and always his perfect complement as an actor). Noël and Gertie first met in 1913 on the train to Liverpool. With ten other children, they had been hired by director/producer Basil Dean to appear for a three-week run of Hauptmann’s Hannele. She was, Noël recalled, “a vivacious child with ringlets . . . her face was far from pretty, but tremendously alive . . . She confided to me that her name was Gertrude Lawrence, but that I was to call her Gert because everyone else did . . . I loved her from then onwards.”

It would be ten years before they performed together again–in his 1923 revue for producer André Charlot, London Calling!–and then only briefly. She introduced the song “Parisian Pierrot,” which Cecil Beaton considered “the signature tune of the . . . 1920s.” The show seemed set for a long run when, to Noël’s horror, Charlot decided to put together a compilation of highlights from several of his previous revues and take it to Broadway as André Charlot’s Revue of 1924. The stars were to be Jack Buchanan, Beatrice Lillie (whom Gertie had several times understudied), and Gertrude Lawrence.

Dissolve to 1929 . . . Both of them are well-established now in their own right. Leaving revue behind her, Gertie opens in a straight play, Candle Light. Noël sends her one of what would be a string of teasing cables:


Then, that same year, on a tour of the Far East, Noël found himself waiting in the Imperial Hotel, Tokyo, for his friend and traveling companion, Jeffrey Amherst. On the night before Jeffrey was due to arrive, Noël went to bed early, but as soon as he had turned off the light, the idea for Private Lives came to him. By the turn of the year he was in Shanghai and, when a bout of fever confined him to bed at the Cathay Hotel, he used the time to actually write the play.

That turned out to be the easy part. The hard part was pinning down Gertie’s butterfly mind. Noël cabled her immediately he put his pen down:


He then sent her a copy and she replied:



There then followed an avalanche of cables in which confusion soon became worse confounded. She’d committed herself to André Charlot for a new revue. Could they open in the following January instead of this September? Why didn’t Noël appear in the revue with her to fill in the time? Why didn’t Noël cable and ask Charlot to release her from the contract? Well, actually it wasn’t so much of a contract as a moral obligation . . . Come to think of it, it probably was a contract of a sort and her lawyers were trying to get her out of it . . . She’d rather do Private Lives than anything. . . No, she couldn’t do it at all . . .

Noël had finally had enough. When–forty pounds’ worth of telegrams later–she finally remembered to give him her cable address, he wired her that he now planned to do the play with someone else anyway. He heard nothing more until he arrived back in England in May, by which time Gertie’s lawyer, the redoubtable Fanny Holtzmann, had pried her free of the Charlot contract.

“La Capponcina
Cap d’Ail
Alpes Maritimes
Thursday or Friday?


Am I wrong or did I hear you mention something about a play we were going to do in London first then in America after?

Please let me know, because at present me ’ouse is full as a pig– and I would like to do something about putting up with you–sorry–I mean–well, you know–should you wish to visit me here to discuss ways and means.

Love Gert”

“Dear Miss Lawrence,
With regard to your illiterate scrawl of 14th inst., Mr. Coward asks me to say that there was talk of you playing a small part in a play of his on condition that you tour and find your own clothes (same to be of reasonable quality) and understudy Jessie Matthews whom you have always imitated. [In fact, it was Matthews who had understudied and carbon-copied Gertie in the New York production of the 1924 Charlot Revue.] Mr. Coward will be visiting some rather important people in the South of France in mid-July and he will appear at Cap d’Ail [the location of Edward Molyneux’s house, which Gertie was renting], whether you like it or not, with Mr. Wilson, on the 20th. If by chance there is no room in the rather squalid lodgings you have taken, would you be so kind as to engage several suites for Mr. W [Jack Wilson] and Mr. C [Noël] at the Hotel Mont Fleury, which will enable same Mr. W and Mr. C. to have every conceivable meal with you and use all your toilets for their own advantage. Several complicated contracts are being sent to you by Mr. C. on the terms you agreed upon–i.e., £6.10s. a week and understudy.”

With Private Lives, “Noël and Gertie” were to become a single entity in the public mind, creating an impression that–like the Lunts–they invariably acted together. In point of fact, they co-starred in only three original productions, of which Private Lives was the second and the one that defined the partnership.

Elyot Chase and Amanda Prynne are a divorced couple who meet up at the same hotel in Deauville while each is on honeymoon with a second spouse, only to discover that they are fated to be together, no matter the emotional cost to themselves or the people around them. The fictional relationship in many respects mirrored the real-life relationship between Noël and Gertie, two people deeply fond of each other but constantly bickering and testing the limits of that friendship in the certain knowledge that it is unbreakable.

Noël was both challenged and frustrated by Gertie’s mercurial nature, quite opposite but somehow complementary to his own more ordered approach.

“On stage,” he wrote a few years later, “she is potentially capable of anything and everything. She can be gay, sad, witty, tragic, funny and touching. . . She has, in abundance, every theatrical essential but one; critical faculty . . . But for this tantalizing lack of discrimination she could, I believe, be the greatest actress alive in the theatre today.”

On October 13, 1931, Cavalcade opened at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, and Gertie was in the first-night audience.

“Theatre Royal

Noël, my darling,

Here I am down on my knees to you in humble admiration and complete adoration.

I didn’t wire you last night because I felt too near you to mix my stupid pence worth of good wishes with those many who couldn’t have been feeling as deeply as I was; but please believe me when I tell you that I spent the whole evening from eight ’til eleven with my hand tightly clasped in yours–anything just to feel that I might perhaps be of some subconscious support to you. As you say it’s “pretty exciting to be English”. But also it’s pretty exciting to love you as I do!

It’s horrid how I miss you but deep down it’s rather grand; though not awfully satisfying!!

This you may be surprised to see is from

“Ole Gert””

“Dear old Gert,

Among all the outpourings from the great and the good and the Would-Be-Goods (as my beloved E. Nesbit might put it) nothing pleased me more than your barely decipherable scrawl!

You know me well enough to know that when I stammered about it being pretty exciting to be English, I meant every naïve word. We’re a strange race and we persist in getting a lot of things wrong but we do have our hearts in the right place–and that’s what matters.

When I looked down at the stage–and when I’d got over worrying about what else might go wrong with the mechanics–a great many things went through my mind and you were in so many of them.

I could see you on that stage at the Phoenix standing there in that damned deceptive moonlight night after night and I would make my entrance, never knowing which Gertie I would find on any particular evening. You do know, my darling, that you are a chameleon–an elegant one but still a chameleon. You never play a part the same way two nights running but it certainly keeps whoever you’re playing with–in this case your author–on his tippy tip toes. And I must also admit–it’s pretty exciting to be playing opposite Miss Gertrud Dagmar Lawrence-Klasen and I can’t wait until the next time. And I can just hear you saying–“Well, darling, that’s up to you.”

I also found myself thinking back to that first time we played together. Do you remember Liverpool, Manchester and that tedious German play Basil was so keen on? And when we two budding thespians stuffed ourselves with peppermints and the curtain rose on the sight of two little angels being spectacularly sick! I do believe, my darling, we can do better than that and I shall endeavour to see that we do without too much further ado–and no error.

God bless you and keep you, Mother Macree!”

Reflecting on her in the mid-1930s–just before Tonight at 8:30–Noël mused on her complexity:

“I see her now, ages away from her ringlets and black velvet military cap, sometimes a simple, wide-eyed child, sometimes a glamorous femme du monde, at some moments a rather boisterous “good sort”, at others a weary, disillusioned woman battered by life but gallant to the last. There are many other grades also between these extremes. She appropriated beauty to herself quite early, along with all the tricks and mannerisms that go with it. In adolescence she was barely pretty. Now, without apparent effort, she gives the impression of sheer loveliness. Her grace in movement is exquisite, and her voice charming. To disentangle Gertie herself from this mutability is baffling, rather like delving for your grandmother’s gold locket at the bottom of an overflowing jewel-case.”

It’s a little misleading to say that Noël and Gertie played together only three times. Their next joint venture, the 1936 Tonight at 8:30, was, in reality, nine one-act plays–ten, if one counts Star Chamber, which played only once at a matinée. In each they played pairs of entirely different characters, a theatrical tour de force that, significantly, has never since been emulated by another couple. Almost certainly a wise decision, since to do so would invite comparison with performances that have passed into legend and can now never be adequately assessed.

One of the plays was Hands Across the Sea, a thinly veiled parody of the superficial social life of the Mountbattens. It’s impossible to know at this point in which direction Gertie erred in her portrayal of Lady Maureen “Piggie” Gilpin (Edwina Mountbatten), but it was sufficient to cause Noël in February 1936 to cable Jack–who was even then planning the subsequent American production:


In March:


The Mountbattens, incidentally, saw the play and never realized that
they were its subjects. As late as 1968 Mountbatten is writing to Noël:

15th October 1968

My dear Noël,

On going through my library I have just come across a copy inscribed by you of your plays Tonight at 8:30.

Looking through them I suddenly remembered that you had told Edwina and me that Hands Across the Sea was a skit on ourselves, and on reading it this seems only too probable.

Can you confirm that it was written with malice aforethought, or did it just turn into a Naval couple because you had so many Naval friends? Did you play Commander Gilpin and did Gertie play Lady Maureen, “Piggie”?”

There is evidence in his notebooks that Noël at least contemplated another play (Tidewater) for himself and Gertie both in the late 1930s and probably soon after Tonight at 8:30, since his tentative casting notes include a number of the actors who had appeared with them in that. It would also seem that he was contemplating a play-within-a-play or “dream sequence” format, since all the principal characters double as historical characters of the Mary, Queen of Scots, period. Noël would have played Cedric Massingham (and Bothwell), while Gertie was to have been Loretta Gray (and Mary Stuart).

Noël and Gertie were never to appear together again on the Broadway or West End stage. When Tonight was revived in 1947, Noël stood in for an indisposed Graham Payn for one matinée in San Francisco. That was their nostalgic coda. Graham’s understudy “was a very very small Jewish gentleman who could neither act, dance, nor sing,” so at the following day’s matinée, “I popped on at an hour’s notice and there was a great fuss and fume. I really did it for Gertie’s sake. I couldn’t let her act with that horror again.”

Their careers proceeded in successful parallel.

Gertie spent most of her time in America, and on July 4, 1940, she married Richard Aldrich, a scion of one of America’s many prestigious families and owner of the Cape Playhouse in Maine. The new “Mrs. A” would devote a good deal of her professional time to the playhouse in the years ahead.

On her wedding day a predictable Coward cable arrived:


To which Gertie replied:


Soon after, producer Moss Hart was negotiating with Lawrence to play the lead in the avant-garde Kurt Weill—Ira Gershwin musical Lady in the Dark. Once again this lady dithered, and it was Noël who firmly steered her toward doing something he knew would reestablish her Broadway reputation. On the opening night he sent her another cable:


The show was a critical and commercial success–though not with everyone. On October 25, 1941, Lynn Fontanne wrote to Noël:

“I also saw Gertie and I hate to seem such a sour puss, but because you know that I am really not, I shall confess that it was the longest and worst acted part that I have ever seen in my life. Alfred did not go with me but was waiting in the car when I came out. He asked me what it was like and all I could think of was, “But, Alfred, she stinks.” It’s not one of my expressions, but I could think of nothing else. I was really very amazed, as I had heard you tell about these performances which she throws from time to time and realized that I had never quite believed you. But I do, darling, oh how I do now. Apparently this is not a once in a while performance either, as I hear she is pretty much the same all the time. I wasn’t very crazy about the whole show, to be exact. What is happening to me? Am I getting to be an old bitch? I do hope not. Her “Jenny” song was wonderful but after all, there’s the whole show to be gone through!”

From the Hardcover edition.

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Table of Contents

List of Illustrations     ix
Introduction     3
Preface     9
"Beginners, Please!"
The Boy Actor     13
"I Like America"     54
"Dance, Dance, Dance, Little Lady"     68
Intermission: Dab and Lornie     88
The Vortex     107
"Why Must the Show Go On?"     123
"I'm World Weary, World Weary"     134
The Years of Grace
This Year of Grace!     149
"Mad Dogs and Englishmen"     166
Intermission: Gertrude Lawrence     178
Private Lives     209
Intermission: Play Parade     223
Cavalcade     262
Noel & Alfred & Lynn...and Their Design for Living     275
Conversation Piece...and Missing the Point     292
The Scoundrel...and Still Traveling Alone     308
Intermission: Marlene Dietrich     315
Tonight at 8:30     332
Operette...and Straws in the Wind     351
Noel's War
World War II: "Twentieth Century Blues"     367
"Then Along Came Bill"     395
World War II: "Faraway Land"     418
World War II: "In Which We Serve"     427
World War II: "I Travel Alone"     482
Shadow Play
Sigh Once More...and a Storm in the Pacific     513
The Fallow Forties     529
Intermission: A Quadrille...for Two     550
...and the Fitful Fifties     565
Nescafe Society...and the Small Screen     584
Bubbles...and Nudes     610
A Different Sky...and a Look at Lulu     642
A Visit to "Greeneland"...via Havana     653
Wings...and Sails     661
Interimission: A Chatter of Chums     688
Girls...and Spirits     702
"Dad's Renaissance"     718
Songs at Twilight     728
Shadow of Evening     746
Permissions and Acknowledgments     755
Index     757
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Customer Reviews

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Sort by: Showing all of 4 Customer Reviews
  • Posted February 2, 2009

    more from this reviewer


    Granted, some very fine biographies have been written, those that seem to paint seamless portraits. Yet, for this reader nothing can compare to someone's letters, written with no thought that they will ever be read by anyone save the recipient. These letters are mirrors, if you will, of a person's thoughts and emotions. They are in the person's own words - every adjective, nuance, inflection is his or her choice. And when the choices are Noel Coward's, it is pleasurable reading indeed. Urbane, witty, snippy, multi-talented, observant, caring, Coward had talent to spare. He was a songwriter, playwright, actor, artist, bon vivant, advisor, trusted friend. And such friends they were - from Marlene Dietrich to the Queen Mother to Somerset Maugham to Liz Taylor (whom he once described as being 'hung with rubies and diamonds and looking like a pregnant Pagoda.' His quick wit was always razor sharp, used both to bolster and skewer. When his old friend Clifton Webb lost his mother, Webb was evidently given to prolonged crying bouts which caused Coward to comment, 'It must be rough to be orphaned at seventy-one.' His jests and jibes made him a wanted guest and sought after companion. Many of these witticisms are contained in this delightful compendium of letters both from and to Coward. Thoughtfully arranged by Barry Day they are a chronicle of Coward's life from his earliest days when at the age of two he had to taken from church because he danced in the aisle to accompany the hymn being played. He faithfully sent a weekly missive to his mother, Violet. Thus, we're privy to what life was like for child actors at the turn of the century. During this period he met the 15-year-old Gertrude Lawrence who would play a large part in his professional life. Later, he telegraphed her re his play Private Lives: 'Have written delightful new comedy stop good part for you stop wonderful one for me stop.' He first sailed to New York in 1921, where he was convinced that much of his future lay. Indeed, it did although he belonged to the world. Success was to follow success. The Letters of Noel Coward is not only a joyful visit with Coward but a chapter of theatrical history. It's a weighty 753 page volume, and it's a keeper as I find myself returning to it to browse and savor again the turn of a phrase or Coward's unparalleled ripostes. Thanks to Barry Day for giving us the great pleasure of his company. Highly recommended. - Gail Cooke

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