BR TO OTTOLINE MORRELL, [16 SEPT. 1911]
BRACERS 17262. ALS. Morrell papers #181, Texas. SLBR 1: #177
Edited by N. Griffin. Proofread by K. Blackwell and A. Duncan

<Cambridge>
Sat. aftn.1^,2

My Darling Darling

Your two letters of Wed. and Thursday were both brought to me when I was called this morning. They were more joy to me than I can say — every word of them. I feel I have written miserable letters, but it is very hard to write during a long journey — the thoughts belonging to the journey seem to numb one. Darling I am glad my flowers came. I ordered them in the morning while we were packing. Yes I was surprised to see you at the station — the fat boy saw you first. I was very very much touched by your coming — it was very dear of you. But of course I was conscious of the fat wretch and his thoughts and I felt I ought to have more prudence on your behalf — I was very vexed with myself for not being more astute the evening before.

Yes I should certainly have been cross if you had thanked me for coming — it would have been too absurd. All the thanks, if there were to be any, would have been the other way, as you ran all the risk. — Darling I was quite as dumb as you were at the end. The end was different from what I had expected; I had not known it would be so impossible to say what one was feeling. And when I am with you I can’t really believe I shall ever not be, it seems so natural and inevitable to be together. — You are not nearly so dumb to me as you think, because I almost always know what you are feeling.

I don’t now ever feel that your other ties war against me, and I don’t believe I should whatever happened. At first I had the desire for utter and complete absorption on both sides, which made me dread the thought of my having to go back to work as well as your ties. Now I find everything else that we both have to do an added bond. But that could hardly have happened if we hadn’t had long times together, so that I can feel you with me in spirit even when you are absent in the body. — Young Isaacs3 again asked me if I was doing a cure, so I too mentioned my friend. But I didn’t say his name, which is Oliver Mansfield. I knew him first at the crammer’s. Then he went out to India, and was doing brilliantly, but unfortunately lost his health, had to throw up his position, and is now clerk to a County Council.

I have enjoyed the big sponge and still more the hair wash because it smells like your head.

I am sorry your eyes have begun hurting again. I believe you ought to live on the East Coast when you are in England — it is hideous but dry. However anything is better than the Thames Valley.

Yes our talks were much more like communings — there was so much more than was said — each word seemed to have such a world behind it. I loved talking to you about my work — it was strangely intoxicating.

Thank you for letting me see the letter about Mother Julian.4 It would never have entered my head to think you sentimental about her — indeed I am sure I should have felt as you do if I had known her. I wish very much indeed that I had.

I am writing by the river near South Stoke, where I shall post this. It is heavenly autumn weather — hot sun and cold wind — they say there was a frost this morning. I arrived for dinner — found mountains of proofs, Broad’s dissertation,5 and endless letters6 — one from Carr7 of the Aristn. Soc., asking me to have the annual meeting the last Monday in October, to suit the everlasting Bergson,8 who would then be present; one from Stout,9 asking my opinion of a communication of a man in Cracow,10 who applies symbolic logic to time-relations, and wants his work published in Mind;11 and one from Ivy Pretious (which I will send when I have answered it) begging me not to avoid her. This letter caused me some perplexity, but I think I must call in London some time — I have really no right not to, but I should have been glad not to have to renew acquaintance, as the need for philanthropy is past. I shall be glad to hear your opinion after I have sent you her letter. — After dinner I wrote mountains of letters and began reading Broad. This morning I spent on proofs, and got through about half. Owing to Bergson I shall have to begin my Aristn. paper12 while I am here, but I have the energy of 20 steam-engines just now, and can plough through my work at a great rate. Broad is just as I expected. Maurice Amos13 comes to me in Camb. the week-end of Oct. 15. I shall not go to my Aunt Agatha as she has gone to the Isle of Wight; I go to my Uncle Rollo Sp. 29 (address Steep, Petersfield) and next day to Cambridge. I don’t know yet about the Whiteheads.

Darling I can’t manage to be sorry that you missed me. I don’t know how I should have endured it if I had had nothing to do and had had to stay passive in the same place. As it is, I feel the work I have to do must be done, and I should not be worthy of your love if I were idle. My imagination is empty for the moment because I put it all into Prisons, and I feel the need of hard dry reasoning — it has a kind of tonic bracing effect.a It is a kind of homage to the unimportance of the individual.

Goodbye my Beloved. I feel you with me in spirit every moment — whatever I am doing, I am conscious of your love and of what you are — it envelops me like the sunshine. Goodbye my Joy my Ottoline. Do keep well —

Your utterly devoted
B.

• 1

  [document] Document 000181. Proofread against a colour scan of the original.

• 2

  [envelope] A circled “181”.

• 3

  Young Isaacs This was Gerald Rufus Isaacs (1889–1960), later MP, who was also taking the waters at Marienbad. His father, Sir Rufus Isaacs (1861–1935), was then the British Attorney-General. Nothing is known about Oliver Mansfield beyond what BR reports here (but see BRACERS 17287). Presumably he, too, was at Marienbad and BR pretended to be visiting him. The “crammer’s” was the school which prepared BR (in 1888–89) for his Cambridge entrance examinations.

• 4

  Thank you for letting me see the letter about Mother Julian. While in Marienbad Ottoline had heard that her mentor, Mother Julian, had died.

• 5

  Broad’s dissertation The fellowship dissertation of Charlie Dunbar Broad (1887–1971), formerly a Trinity student now teaching at the University of St Andrews. He returned to Cambridge in 1923 and succeeded Sorley to the Knightbridge Chair of Moral Philosophy in 1933. The dissertation was later published as Broad’s first book, Perception, Physics, and Reality (1914). BR reviewed it from Brixton Prison in 1918; see 15 in Papers 8.

• 6

  endless letters There are no replies from BR of this date or the next two days in RA.

• 7

  Carr H. Wildon Carr. BR, as president of the Society, had to give a paper at the annual meeting.

• 8

  Bergson Henri Bergson (1859–1941), the French philosopher, then a professor at the Collège de France. In 1911, following the publication of his L'Évolution créatrice (1907; English translation 1911), he was something of a cult figure. BR, who had met Bergson during his visit to Paris in March, had a great deal to do with him during his visit to England in 1911.

• 9

  Stout BR’s former teacher, since 1891 editor of Mind.

• 10

  a man in Cracow This is Michael Henry Dziewicki (identified by B. Linsky).

• 11

  wants his work published in Mind Presumably BR did not think well of the article, for it was not published in Mind.

• 12

  my Aristn. paper “On the Relations of Universals and Particulars” (B&R C12.12), read to the Aristotelian Society on 30 October 1911, published in their Proceedings the following year, and reprinted as 16 in Papers 6.

• 13

  Maurice Amos An old friend.

Textual Notes

• a

  effect. period supplied editorially