BRACERS Record Detail for 17081

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Collection code
RA3
Recent acquisition no.
69
Document no.
000023
Box no.
2.53
Filed
OM scans 18_4_2: 03
Source if not BR
Texas, U. of, HRC
Recipient(s)
Morrell, Ottoline
Sender(s)
BR
Date
1911/04/08*
Form of letter
ALS(DX)
Pieces
2E
BR's address code (if sender)
VBC
Notes and topics

More about Theodore Llewelyn Davies' death.

Transcription

BR TO OTTOLINE MORRELL, [8 APR. 1911]
BRACERS 17081. ALS. Morrell papers #23, Texas
Proofread by K. Blackwell and A.G. Bone


Fernhurst1, 2
Sat. evening

My Dearest Dearest

I am beginning a letter now, because I may not have much time later. Arthur Dakyns is coming for the week-end, and if he chooses to sit up it may be very late before I can write again. When I answer your letters in the morning before getting up, I have to write full speed at once, almost before I have taken them in. A sort of shyness makes me feel it impossible to read them or write to you when any one else is in the room. It will be a comfort to get to Cambridge, where I shall have peace and solitude and freedom, and my own world instead of Alys’s.

My brother has come and gone. In spite of what I wrote before, I have a curiously strong affection for him — only I never want him to know anything of what I am feeling. I have the sense of his being my only neara relation, and the reliance that he would always stand by me — also, in spite of great dissimilarity, some sort of instinctive congruence. We had also to tea Prof. and Mrs Haverfield of Oxford — nice people both, tho’ she is Sec. of the Suffrage Soc. — no doubt you know them.

Alys has not told me she saw Mrs Whitehead. She mentioned to the three girls casually that she had seen them, as I found by a conversation that was finishing as I came into the room, but to me she said nothing. As for her having resigned her Comees., she spent yesterday at one of them. She will give no trouble, I am sure. Also I am sure that, unless on P’s account, there is no reason I should not come to Studland. But if you continue to think otherwise, don’t imagine I shall be vexed.

It is a joy to have something from you, Darling, and such a very pretty thing. I have put my stamps into it. I believe you don’t know at all how beautiful your letters are — I read them over whenever I can, and always with fresh happiness. It is altogether too wonderful that you should love me — I still find it bewildering.

Mr. Davies is a wonderful man. I went up to Kirkby Lonsdale with Crompton the week-end after Theodore’s death — Mr. Davies preached — his stoical creed would not allow him not to. He almost broke down — I never have seen anything more heart-rending. When we got away, I went into a back room, because I wanted one moment to break down in solitude. But Margaret found me, took both my hands, and demanded strength to bear it. I hardly knew her till then. Crompton was useless to her — his way of bearing pain is different, and she got on his nerves. It was a terrible time — every moment is stamped on my memory for ever.

I have a strange feeling — I wonder if you will understand it — that love which is real and deep has an affinity with all the things that stir one profoundly — death seems nearer akin than joys that are less serious. The things that make life good are surrounded with tragedy and pain, and they must be able to live with the recognition of tragedy if they are to be deep and great. I feel constantly all the burden of the world’s sorrows, and I do not want — except in moments of weakness — the kind of joys that make one forget — I want the kind that make one see the good that survives everything. Your love does not make me forget sorrow — it makes me strong to meet it, and able to remember what is worthy to be set against it. O my Dearest, what we give each other is infinitely good — it is strengthening, uplifting, purifying — I feel my love could live in Hell and fill me with joy even there. There seems no limit to what it can do. Do not be dismayed if sometimes I feel impatience — a word will bring me back to what we both really want.

Goodbye, my Beloved, my Ottoline. You have my soul and all I have to give.

B.

  • 1

    [document] Document 000023. Proofread against a colour scan of the original.

  • 2

    [envelope] A circled “23”. The Lady Ottoline Morrell | Cliff End | Studland | near Swanage <line struck through> | Dorset. Pmk: HASLEMERE | 7.45.PM | AP 8 | 11. On both sides: SWANAGE S.O | 6 AM | 9 AP | 11 | DORSET

Textual Notes

  • a

    near written over obliterated word

Permission
Everyone
Transcription Public Access
Yes
Record no.
17081
Record created
Feb 27, 1991
Record last modified
Jun 23, 2025
Created/last modified by
blackwk