BRACERS Record Detail for 17363
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"Sunday mg." [continues] "Later" on Persia.
BR TO OTTOLINE MORRELL, [3 DEC. 1911]
BRACERS 17363. ALS. Morrell papers #276, Texas
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My Darling Love
Your 2 dear letters — one last night and one this morning — were a great joy. Dearest don’t trouble yourself with the feeling of having said hurting things. I do indeed understand when for the moment you feel numb. I understand it almost physically — I know perfectly well how little it has to do with real inside feelings. So I don’t need patience — I have felt the same sort of deadness myself at times of great fatigue. The only thing that hurt at all was when you said your happiest times are when you are alone — but that didn’t really hurt.
Bob Trevy and Donald Tovey have just been here. I found out from them why Goldie was doubtful of being able to come; it is because Roger is with him. Goldie said he had people but didn’t mention Roger. — The Magic Flute was perfectly delightful and very well done, tho’ unfortunately Mrs Fletcher, who was the leading lady, had a cold and was rather hoarse. Mrs Bob’s cousin Hubrecht was the villainous Moor and was admirable. I enjoyed the whole thing enormously. I sat just in front of Margery Strachey who fished for an invitation to tea, which I didn’t give her. As soon as I got back, the Xtian Science engineer Rawson turned up — he was dreadful. He began with heavy compliments “The expression I used to my wife was, that is an epoch-making work”, speaking of my book. Poor wife, having to have such expressions used to her. Then, without a pause, he began explaining his ideas. Mental healing is, of course, admitted by all; but there are 2 kinds, that practised by ordinary Xtian Scientists and that practised by Christ; Rawson practises the latter. He can cure cancers, broken legs, blinded eyes, everything; he has power over the past as well as the future. I told him of Mrs Fletcher’s hoarseness; he immediately put a distant look into his eyes and repeated like a Dervish “God is love and man is loving; the throat is an organ of human love; in the reality there is no hoarseness”. But he wouldn’t commit himself to the proposition that that would cure her. He said he could cure all hatred and anger by mere thinking; when 2000 people had raged against R.J. Campbell, he soothed them by merely sitting thinking on the platform. I wanted to tell him he would be a useful man in electioneering but I was afraid he would think that flippant. He seemed to think my chief anxiety must be that my people should do well in exams, and gave me tips for how to effect it without all the trouble of teaching. Ugh!
At dinner I found myself next Sydney Turner — Hardy brought him and Woolf to Hall. Afterwards we all went to the Society. Sheppard began drawing me out so that in the end I delivered a long homily on work and regarding oneself more as a means than as an end. They listened silently, with a sort of half-respectful surprise. Sheppard inwardly agreed with everything I said, but wished not to. Moore was there, but said nothing. Now I must go to the Sorleys to lunch. I will finish later.
Later. To my surprise I had quite a pleasant luncheon at the Sorleys — the Mirrlees’s were there, and a nice old gentleman named Wolstenholme. The Sorleys themselves are dull and offensive. They had been too superior to go to the Magic Flute because they sniffed at amateurs; the Mirrlees’s and I made them feel bad. I am dining with the M’s Tuesday. They are the only non-academic people here, which makes them valuable. You would love him if you could stand his voice. Today he said “Human nature interests me, so I’ve known a great many pick-pockets” — Sorley, Scotch-respectable, hypocritical-pious, and very stiff, had to put up with it. It was followed by histories of ever so many. —
What you say about the Masefields is interesting. I have never met him, and I only know her through Isabel Fry. Poor man. But I dare say it is better than being before the mast. They say, by the way, that he is imaginative in his autobiography and never was before the mast; I don’t know the truth of it. Yes, George Trevy is often quite unapproachable and horribly rude. A liver-attack makes him intolerable.
I wonder very much how your new Dr. has turned out. I am so sorry you have the horror of a new one. I must revert to my plan of becoming an M.D. — I saw P. had given notice of a question about Persia. The truth is Grey has been simply outwitted by men cleverer than he is. It is disastrous for Persia and ourselves and the world.
I wonder very much whether your new Dr. has had anything to say. Darling don’t trouble yourself with the idea that I don’t understand when you feel numb or that I think there is anything the matter except that. And really Dearest it doesn’t need patience. I hate to see you ill and troubled, but I don’t want to drag things out of you when you are exhausted. I have a sort of physical imagination that makes me feel your feelings as if they were mine so that I don’t misunderstand.
Three, tomorrow, at the Flat. My Darling Darling I love you with all my soul, with utter devotion.
Your
B
