On 11 December 1957, Beckett heard from Con Leventhal, that
his wife and Beckett's own former love, Ethna MacCarthy, was suffering
from terminal cancer of the throat. He was utterly devastated. He wrote
immediately to ask whether there was any specialist whom they could
consult or any form of specialised treatment that they could obtain,
either in Britain or America, adding "I need' nt tell you you may count
on me financially up to the limit". He was to repeat this offer on
several subsequent occasions.
From December until Ethna's death
eighteen months later, Beckett wrote her long, sometimes very beautiful
letters, which can only be described as touching love letters written
to someone for whom he had never lost his feelings of deep affection.
Uncharacteristically, he deliberately padded his letters out with what
he called "my silly news" so as to interest and entertain her while she
was ill at home or in hospital: "I suppose the best I have to do", he
wrote to her, "is to open for you my little window on my little world."~ Damned To Fame-The Life of Samuel Beckett, by James Knowlson (p.442)
~ Η φωτογραφία είναι από εδώ.
