BR TO OTTOLINE MORRELL, [23 APR. 1911]
BRACERS 17104. ALS. Morrell papers #39, Texas
Proofread by K. Blackwell et. al.

<letterhead>
Trinity College,
Cambridge.1^, 2
Sunday night

My Darling

Your letter which reached me this morning has gone on giving me fresh happiness all day long. I walk about feeling how wonderful everything is, and how incredible that such good fortune should have come to me. Whatever may be occupying my superficial thoughts, I am filled with inward joy all day long. — After posting my letter this morning, I made out the scheme of my lectures for the term, and the detailed notes for my first lecture.3 After luncheon I went a walk with a mathematician named Hardy, whom I find congenial on the purely intellectual side, tho’ not as a human being. We talked about probability, free will, Tolstoy, and Clarissa Harlowe — there were transitions, tho’ it might seem as if there wouldn’t be. He is a vampire — the only male vampire I have ever known. He had a friend named Gay, also a fellow here, whom he vampired till Gay committed suicide. He began to vampire Norton, but the Stephens or something just rescued Norton. He loves excitement, and the life here provides no legitimate excitements. But he is likable in many ways.

Then I paid a long visit to Miss Harrison. Purnell and James Strachey were there, so I heard again about the mumps. Miss Harrison is much troubled about Miss Mirrlees, Karin’s clever friend who was at Fernhurst. She says she is much the ablest pupil she has ever had, but her conceit and vanity are very trying. Miss M. is thinking of taking to philosophy, and Miss H. wants me, if so, to teach her for a bit with a view to diminishing her conceit. I don’t much like the idea, but it seems not impossible I may have to fall in with it.

When I got home, I began thinking what I should say in my speech tomorrow;4 and since dinner I have been listening to my Lamb’s adventures in Greece during the Vacation. Mrs Pope-Hennessy’s book, which I have been reading, is not interesting. I trace most of the defects of her style to snobbery — not quite so crass as in her father, but in the form of respect for established reputations, and inability to believe that bigwigs are humbugs. I have in the past told her what I had to say against her style, but I don’t think she can improve it. I think she is genuinely scholarly and careful, and it is a great pity she is not a little better. I believe a few years away from friends, and earning her living, were what she needed.

I don’t think I shall go to London Tuesday, but I shall go on Wednesday for various odds and ends of business. I imagine you won’t be there, at any rate till evening.

This is the only time of year when Cambridgeshire country is really beautiful — from now till the hay is cut, the fields are a joy. But it is a very tame sort of beauty — there is no wild freedom in it.

Now Dearest I must stop for tonight. I have given you a chronicle of my day, because you said you would like every detail, but I fear you will find it tedious to read. — I hope you are not feeling terribly tired, Darling. I suppose this life must be rather tiring for you, but I should like it to be as little tiring as possible. I hope you will be able to rest now, and not feel restless. Dearest, I do feel you with me every moment — and yet very soon I begin to long to have you really with me, and not only in spirit. However, I am so absolutely happy that as yet I have no difficulty in being contented. Goodnight my heart, my Darling, my Ottoline.

B.

Monday morning. Sunday is a nuisance — your letter of yesterday has not come yet, and I suppose you won’t get mine till the second post. It is a heavenly morning — it must be glorious at Studland. I hear the birds in my rooms, because the Master’s garden is just outside, and I even have owls at night, so I am very well off. But I haven’t yet heard the nightingale or even the cuckoo.

Now I really must begin to consider the Liberal Women this afternoon, before my pupils turn up. Goodbye my Darling. It seems to me that everything will always be easy, henceforth — tho’ of course I know that won’t quite be the case. But I have such a fund of happiness and life and energy within me that I feel ready to meet anything. Darling, I wish you could really know the difference you have made to me — in every way — it is quite extraordinary. Goodbye, my Dearest — I love you, I love you, I love you.

B.

• 1

  [document] Document 000039. Proofread against a colour scan of the original.

• 2

  [envelope] A circled “39”.

• 3

  scheme … detailed notes for my first lecture The lecture scheme and notes do not survive in the Russell Archives.

• 4

  my speech tomorrow At Ely.