Carol and Ernest Hemingway: The Letters of Loss

Shortly after Carol Hemingway Gardner's death in fall 2002, her daughter Elizabeth Gardner Lombardi began putting papers in order and closing out the details of a long life. Carol's path had been relatively ordinary in many senses: marrying her college sweetheart, raising three children, working as a schoolteacher, retiring to a rural Massachusetts community, and dying at home with family and friends at hand. Most who knew her were unaware, or certainly uninformed by Mrs. Gardner, of her connection to fame. She spent her last seventy years avoiding that notoriety. As the youngest and once most highly-favored sister of one of America's most recognized authors, Carol could have garnered attention from scholars and the press, but instead decided upon precisely the opposite path. Her choice was a quiet, unassuming life lived far away from the blinding glare of her brother's fame.

Carol Hemingway's preference was not that of a shy or reticent spirit. In fact, she had been at the center of controversy in a number of incidents throughout her public school years and later in college.¹ Until now, the real impetus for Carol's removal from her brother's life has been treated by Hemingway biographers only in sketchy detail. But while sorting through her mother's effects, Elizabeth Gardner Lombardi uncovered an important missing link detailing Carol and Ernest's argument and irrevocable break in the winter of 1933 —fifteen previously unknown letters. Brother and sister never spoke to each other again after the turbulent months recorded in these newly-discovered papers, and even though Carlos Baker's seminal biography essentially provides the reasons why, we can now piece together a much clearer picture of the events leading to their life-long separation.

Two of the fifteen letters were written from Ernest to Carol and cannot be included verbatim due to copyright restrictions. One 1932 letter, sent by her sister-in-law Pauline from the L-T Ranch in Wyoming, makes reference to Carol's preparations for her European trip later that fall. Another is an undated piece on the stationery of New York's Hotel Brevoort, written by Pauline's sister Jinny, probably in January 1933, just before setting sail to join Carol in Vienna for a skiing vacation. Six letters dated from 16 October 1930 through 21 February 1933 are from Carol to a friend named Edie. The remaining four are from 1932 until 23 February 1933 ; penned by Carol to "a crazy red-headed gal named Peggy Pratt" she had met while attending Rollins College. Carol's correspondence with her girlfriends is important as it relays growing frustration over Ernest's objections to her relationship with John (Jack) Gardner, the man she would later marry.²

The first of Hemingway's two letters to Carol is dated simply "Saturday," but was almost certainly written in spring 1932, while their relationship still remained on loving terms. Ernest makes reference to John ("Dos") and Katy Dos Passos visiting in Key West for three days of "swell" fishing in the gulf, and includes a paragraph bragging about the size, kind, and number of fish caught.³ Hemingway also says how "swell" Carol had looked on her last visit, Christmas 1931, and that he would love for her to come south again for spring break. The letter exudes fatherly/brotherly warmth and concern along with an offer to send money for necessities Carol might require. Ernest signs off as "old Stein," Carol's loving sibling, and indicates he finds putting pen to paper difficult but that life is in a "bell [sic] époque."

Pauline's letter, 8 September 1932, is also warmly parental and includes a check as well as advice about where and how Carol should shop in preparation for her European adventure. Pauline closes with an invitation for her sister-in-law to return after the year abroad by way of Havana, where the Hemingways hope to take an apartment. Pauline calls Carol by her childhood nickname, "Beefie," and signs off with much love. Scribbled at the bottom is a message in Ernest's handwriting, sending his...