BR TO OTTOLINE MORRELL, [3 MAY 1911]
BRACERS 17119. ALS. Morrell papers #51, Texas
Proofread by K. Blackwell et al.

<letterhead>
Trinity College,
Cambridge.1^, 2
Wed. morning

My Darling

Your letter came just after I had begun discussing with my Scotchman, and I had to wait for an hour and a half before I could read it, while we talked of time and space and matter and redness and things and qualities and truth. I am very sorry indeed you have had such a bad day with Lamb. Naturally he wants more of you than he can have. I suppose you will have to be stern sooner or later, unless he quiets down. I wonder at anybody being impertinent to you — you don’t seem to me the sort of person it would be easy to be rude to. — Alys writes that she strongly wishes me not to come to Iffley or to her mother’s funeral, so I remain here till Friday morning. — Last night I talked with my Lamb — he is egotistical certainly, but he generally takes the trouble to make his own affairs amusing. I find he is in correspondence with Karin, and had heard from her that Vanessa is ill, which he minded. I think Karin will have to be warned more definitely.

I enclose one or two letters — the one from Carr (Sec. of Aristotelian Soc.) merely because of the funny Comee. he tells me of — it is the first I have heard of it. Bosanquet is a perpetually smiling ass, rather distinguished in the philosophical world, husband of the C.O.S. lady with whom Mrs Webb quarrelled on the Poor Law Commission. Stout (Editor of Mind) is a delightful man — he was one of my teachers here, and I have kept up with him ever since. The other members you may have heard of. — I have received stacks of French proofs of the papers I read in Paris — I must get them done today and tomorrow. — Some week-end very soon I ought to pay Alys a visit. Is there any week-end which I had better keep free?

You will see that Una Birch takes criticism very well. I have always criticized her writing quite frankly.

I have read a good deal of the Bard of the Dimbovitza in trains and in bed, and many of the poems have a great deal of beauty. It is very wild and fresh and real. Don’t forget to write in it when you come.

I am sorry you have so much bother about Lamb. It is very like the sort of troubles I get into, by giving people too much sympathy; I am generally very weak about drawing back, until at last things grow intolerable and I break with them or avoid seeing them for a long time. I have repeatedly vowed to learn wisdom, but hitherto in vain.

Dearest, I can’t tell you how I am longing for Friday. Life seems so maimed away from you. — I will tell you more about my youth, which you said some time ago you wanted to hear about, as soon as I can find a time when there is not too much else to write about.

Dearest, I only live in you — not a moment passes without my thinking of you — longing for you, seeing you, hearing you, feeling you — thinking of your life, wishing for you wholly, trying to remember that I must not destroy what I love best in you. My life, my heart, goodbye. I love you —

Your
B.

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  [document] Document 000051. Proofread against a colour scan of the original.

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  [envelope] A circled “51”. The Lady Ottoline Morrell | 44 Bedford Square | London W.C. Pmk: ??.