BR TO OTTOLINE MORRELL, [20 SEPT. 1911]
BRACERS 17266. ALS. Morrell papers #185, Texas
Proofread by K. Blackwell et al.

Ipsden.1^, 2
Wed. aftn.

My Dearest Love

Your telegram reached me yesterday evening and I am wondering what led to your change of plans. I suppose I shall know tomorrow. Your dear letter of Monday came at one today. I really don’t idealize you. I let my imagination picture you in various ways — some things in you seem to come out more truly that way than any other. But I have a perfectly sober view of you really. I can see what sort of mistakes you are liable to. But you know with other people — take people in Shakspeare for instance — that when they are in any way fine they have something infinite which is untouched by this or that imperfection, and is far more important than all the rest. Think how one would have loved Hamlet. If one had only noticed that he was irritable and impatient with bores, one would have been a person of a very limited outlook. Honestly, I am convinced that if I knew all the actions of your life, none would surprise me, not even those you would most condemn. But all that way of looking at things is small and finite.

I have lately realized that my imaginative vision of you is curiously dominated by the time when you stood on the hill at Studland and I went away into the valley. Ever since I have seen you lovely on a promontory — I am sure it comes from then though I didn’t think of its doing so before.

Your expedition to the Abbey sounds delightful. I didn’t know there was anything so nice in the neighbourhood. I am very much relieved that you are feeling better again. I am glad you wore the stocking externally, I should think internally they might disagree with you.

Yesterday I had endless telegrams about Cantor, and this morning I got the enclosed which may amuse you. If you don’t want to ruin your eyesight you had better get Philip to read it to you. Cantor is one of the greatest men of the age, but obviously as mad as a hatter.

Poincaré, whom he speaks of, is the man who gave the proof of absent-mindedness I told you of. He is the most eminent of French mathematicians; I have had controversies with him at intervals for the last 13 years in the Revue de Métaphysique et de Morale. I agree with Cantor about Kant. Happily he doesn’t mention Joseph of Arimathea. Please return his letter.

I have finished re-reading Broad, and written a report on him.3 Now I shall have time to think of my Aristotelian address. I am glad to be done with Broad — he is dull. I have nearly finished Karamazov, and today two books came from Mudie — very many thanks. I know the Trelawney will interest me immensely.

I will do my best not to forget you, since you desire it. I think it not impossible I may succeed. So far, I don’t think I have ever got through as much as 5 minutes awake without thinking of you. When it rises to 5½ I will let you know and you may take it as a symptom. — Your letters smell delicious — it almost makes me feel as if you were with them. One week is gone today — it seems an eternity. How I loved the time after reading the Times Review, when I talked to you about my work. I don’t often think about my work in that general way. It is rather inspiring — I don’t know if it is too conceited, but I do feel myself in a way at home among the great philosophers. Spinoza and Leibniz on my mantelpiece seem like friends, I have conversations with them in which I explain how I am carrying on their work, and I can hardly resist the feeling that they hear and approve — sometimes it is all but a delusion, it grows so strong. It is one of the joys of work. An immense proportion of my work remains to be done. If I didn’t think well of my work I should be almost ashamed of offering myself to you — for I don’t think much of myself as a human being. Now I must stop. Goodbye my Dearest Heart. I love you with all my strength and I want to give you everything I possess, and to have much to give. This inspires my work.

Your
B.

• 1

  [document] Document 000185. Proofread against a colour scan of the original.

• 2

  [envelope] A circled “185”.

• 3

  a report on him Not found in RA.