BRACERS Record Detail for 17205
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"I am getting on with my book. Would you like to see what exists, still rough, and going to be improved? or shall I wait till it is in a more final shape? As I am not to deal with either religion or morals, I have had to confine myself to topics of which the interest is purely and exclusively intellectual. Thus there is not much scope for much that might otherwise be said.
Dickinson tells me I am beginning to say this is the best of all possible worlds! I must throw in some biting pessimism or he will suspect. He also said "of course one might say you were religious, as Lady Ottoline does". So I opined that Lady Ottoline might be in the right, at least this once. Nobody used to talk of you to me before, and now they all do—it is very odd.
Carlyle's letters, which I have nearly finished, are a great interest. I think he is the best prose writer of the nineteenth century—there is no one like him.—Goodbye my darling. I do hope you are getting rested. I long for you my dearest. This is a long time, but tomorrow morning half of it will be over. I can come Wednesday night, reaching Henly 8.22, if you won't be too tired. Let me know about it when you can. Beloved, I do hunger for you. Your B.
BR TO OTTOLINE MORRELL, [24 JUNE 1911]
BRACERS 17205. ALS. Morrell papers #126, Texas
Proofread by K. Blackwell et al.
<letterhead>
Trinity College,
Cambridge.1, 2
Saturday night.
My Dearest
I don’t know whether this will reach you tomorrow or next day, but in any case I shan’t write to Oxford again. It is as well I wrote to Alys, as it appeared the Whiteheads had misunderstood. I have had a letter from Alys, obviously meant for you to see, so I will send it to Peppard (but please return it). In consequence of Alys’s letter I wrote to Karin, saying she must learn to work independently, but when she had produced 50000 words I would read them. That ought to give time for things to settle down.
Today at last Goldie and I went to Over in the fens, where we have been meaning to go for ages — a lovely place not unlike Babblockbythe, very full of beauty. He talked about you, of course — I was sadly unresponsive. I didn’t tell him I was going to Peppard next week, so you had better not if you can help it. If you talk to him about religion, you will find him more in sympathy with your beliefs than I am — tho’ not more with what makes you value your beliefs — for in that you and I are in complete sympathy, aren’t we?
It is settled that North and I go to the Malvern Hills. So if Peppard suits you better on July 7, it will suit me equally well.
I am getting on with my book. Would you like to see what exists, still rough, and going to be improved? Or shall I wait till it is in a more final shape? As I am not to deal with either religion or morals, I have had to confine myself to topics of which the interest is purely and exclusively intellectual. Thus there is not much scope for much that might otherwise be said.
Dickinson tells me I am beginning to say this is the best of all possible worlds! I must throw in some biting pessimism or he will suspect. He also said “Of course one might say you were religious, as Lady Ottoline does”. So I opined that Lady Ottoline might be in the right, at least this once. Nobody used to talk of you to me before, and now they all do — it is too odd.
Carlyle’s letters, which I have nearly finished, are a great interest. I think he is the best prose writer of the 19th century — there is no one like him. — Goodbye my Darling. I do hope you are getting rested. I long for you my Dearest. This is a long time, but tomorrow morning half of it will be over. I can come Wed. night, reaching Henley 8.22, if you won’t be too tired. Let me know about it when you can. My Beloved, I do hunger for you.
Your
B.
