BRACERS Record Detail for 17257
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"Friday night. In the train to Goring. My Darling Love—Now I am on my way back to Ipsden, feeling rather sad to think that you are no longer to be found there."
BR TO OTTOLINE MORRELL, [15 SEPT. 1911]
BRACERS 17257. ALS. Morrell papers #176, Texas
Proofread by K. Blackwell et al.
<letterhead>
Trinity College,
Cambridge.
In the train to Goring.1, 2
Friday night.
My Darling Love
Now I am on my way back to Ipsden, feeling rather sad to think that you are no longer to be found there. It seems strange and unnatural not to be going to see you and sit among the beeches with the glory of heaven shining through the leaves. The times when we sat in the woods seemed to bring a mystic splendor into my life which I had not known before. In moments of silence the greatness and wonder of the world seemed to flood me. That is to me a possession for ever. I have two views of you — the one of the every-day you, and the other of a sort of prehistoric timeless embodiment of ancient wisdom. Towards the every-day you I feel an infinite tenderness and an intense joy in all you are. But towards the other all my imagination goes out — I have infinite reverence and a sense of unbelievable peace. Father Tyrrell, the only time I ever saw him, developed a theory that God was under a necessity to create the world, and felt its evil just as we do. I feel if that were true God would feel towards the world as you do. Then sometimes when the mystical absorption is great, I feel you as the gateway into a transfigured world through which all the glory shines before me. You wouldn’t believe how hard it is for me not to be mythological about you. It is the combination of freedom and compassion that gives you your power with me.
I had a pleasant time with Lucy Silcox. She suggested Richmond Park — I could not think of any valid objection, tho’ I would rather have gone somewhere where I hadn’t been with you. She had to be back at 5.30, so I shall get to Ipsden to dinner. She may possibly come to Ipsden Sunday for the day.
I have tried to manage my letters so that you would get one each day, but I don’t know if I have succeeded.
Dearest Love I have nothing to write except my love, and how you fill me with life and energy and hope and courage to attempt new work and love to all mankind. I am a changed being since the winter, when I was wandering and losing faith and hopeless. Goodbye my love my life my Ottoline — I love you love you love you — all my heart goes out to you.
Your
B.
