BR TO OTTOLINE MORRELL, [10 MAY 1911]
BRACERS 17131. ALS. Morrell papers #61, Texas
Proofread by K. Blackwell et al.

<letterhead>
44 Bedford Square
<in the train to Cambridge>.1^, 2
Wed. night

My Dearest Life

Here I am, in my train, which I caught with a minute to spare. It has been an absolutely wonderful day. Ina all the little things as well as in all the big ones we do agree so extraordinarily. Hitherto all the people I have known who had a conscience were almost incapable of being whole-hearted and headlong, and that is a great barrier. And on the other hand the people who love beauty hardly ever have any conscience. But there is something deeper than any words that draws us together — some fundamental inward sympathy. At first I thought things would need explaining, but now I know you will understand at once. And it is the same the other way. I think when we were in conflict you were afraid I should think it was because you didn’t care enough — but I never for one instant had any such thought. — It is funny about religion. I should have said beforehand that I should mind your believing in God and a future life — but now I only feel I ought to mind. I must some day try to tell you why I don’t believe in them — but at present it seems dusty and I feel it doesn’t matter.

For some time past, I have tried to live on the intellect alone, and by a natural reaction I am now undervaluing the intellect. But I know that is temporary, and ought to be so. If we had long times together I should want to begin at once sharing as much as possible in that way, but as it is, one must wait.

I have no doubt you understood my saying that I have felt, over this, so much in the hands of Fate that I have really not cared (in one way) what happened. I hardly know myself how to explain it, but I felt our love must go through its development, whatever that might be, and that it was being worked out by some power not our own wills. Mrs Whitehead tried to bring me back to a proper moral point of view, in which one’s own decisions were what mattered, but somehow that view seemed too small to fit, tho’ I suppose it was right. I don’t think I could have repented even if our love had brought misery to everybody, if it itself had not been sullied. That was why I had to go away to combat jealousy, because that would have poisoned our love.

We are about half way to Cambridge now but I am not half way through what I have to say — But I shall feel that on my deathbed. It was delicious to see you so gay — I realized how much you had been worried before — When I have a house in London, you will always be free from cares when you come to me.

I want you to realize that you have given me something which separation or your death cannot take away — something quite vital, the knowledge of a perfect love. It has come to us both rather late, but it is all the richer for that — it harmonizes everything that has ever happened to either of us, and all our experience goes into it. I have spoken to you of your outward beauty, which is a joy to me, but however it may have helped me to find you, it is not necessary now — your inward beauty holds me now and would hold me if the other were lost.

I think the reason you are getting so much more affection from others is that you have more confidence — you know people may feel affection for you and so you no longer repel it. You would have had just as much affection before if you had believed it possible. Still, I do think a great and generous love gives something to others also, something which they feel and value. Certainly I feel full of affection for many people, and I have a sort of sense of wanting to make up to them for not having what I have. I should really be very thankful if P. could cease to regard me as an enemy — I hope in time he will. I cannot understand him, but for that reason I cannot judge him.

Dearest I must stop as we are nearly at Cambridge. I want to thank God for having created you — you give me pure and perfect joy, perfectly good, perfectly harmonious, absorbing all my being. I long to have great and splendid things to give you — to think greatly and feel greatly and pour it all at your feet. With growing knowledge I reverence you more and more, and yet I feel it is home after the thirsty desert to be with you. Goodnight my life my joy.

Yr loving
B.

• 1

  [document] Document 000061. Proofread against a colour scan of the original.

• 2

  [envelope] A circled “61”. The Lady Ottoline Morrell | 44 Bedford Square | London W.C. Pmk: ??.

Textual Notes

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  . In emended editorially from , In