BR TO OTTOLINE MORRELL, [28 DEC. 1911]
BRACERS 17391.  ALS. Morrell papers #301, Texas. SLBR 1: #183
Edited by N. Griffin. Proofread by K. Blackwell and A. Duncan

<letterhead>
Trinity College,
Cambridge.1^, 2
Thursday night.

My Beloved Ottoline

Your dear letter reached me at tea-time today. Yes, my bigotry is unworthy — and half of me has no bigotry and wonders at the other half. Do you know that there is scarcely a word I disagree with in your confession of faith. The only practical difference is that things which both think possible but not certain seem to for me rather less probable than to you. But otherwise I agree with everything you say. There are some great differences, but they are less definite. I don’t think the case of music is analogous, because music does not involve beliefs and is neither true nor false. It is not love of religion, or caring for religious things, that I disagree with, it is the beliefs, which must be either true or false, tho’ it may be impossible for us to know which. What you say about the black spot which might ultimately spoil my love3 is exactly the fear which impelled me to speak. If I were unable to overcome the belief I expressed yesterday, I think you are right, it would not be good to go on. But today I seem to see quite clearly that I was utterly unjust in what I said — my instinct felt it unjust all along. I feel today no difficulty about that — I do most fully understand that you are quite truthful in your religion. But I do wish to share things of the intellect with you — it would be to me a very maimed relation if I did not keep on trying to make you understand things which I think very important. For instance I should want to talk about the difference between beliefs and tastes — between believing that there is a God and liking P. and me,4 for instance — and why I think there is more need to find reason for the one than for the other. But I don’t think you will find me so vehement again — I do hope not.

I think you don’t quite understand why I make myself dry and cold when I want to think. You know that where human passion is involved — as for instance between you and me — one seems to see most clearly when feeling is numbed. I think the same applies to religious things.

Dearest it is utterly untrue that I despise you at the times when I am vehement. If I did, I should not attempt such extraordinarily painful sincerity. Only I can’t bring myself to say painful things unless I first make myself cold and aloof.

I am very dead in feeling today after the passion of yesterday, but in thought I have been very much alive. I see that the danger of the black spot was real, but is past; the danger now is in our both acquiescing in reticence about intellectual things. To me in the long run that would be disastrous. I should begin to feel our relation frivolous. Therefore even if it involves labour and pain and some strife I cannot abandon it.

Dearest now I have finished all the business of exact statement. I cannot tell you Darling what a relief your letter is to me. What you call God is very much what I call infinity. I do feel something in common in all the great things — something which I should not think of quite as you do, though it is very mysterious and I really don’t know what to think of it — but I feel it is the most important thing in the world and really the one thing that matters profoundly. It is to me as yet a mystery — I don’t understand it. I think it has many manifestations — love is the one that seems to me deepest and that I feel most when I am very deeply moved. But truth is the one I have mainly served, and truth is the only one I always feel the divinity of. This has made me get things out of proportion and rather repress other worship in myself, so that I have grown starved and thin. I think if you can bear the pain you can help me by speaking of your beliefs when I am not argumentative. As you put them in your letter, tho’ they go beyond mine I have no hostility to them. It is far better to find our agreements than our disagreements. But it will require a mutual effort. You are obstinate, just as I am vehement. When we have argued, neither you nor I5 have conceived for an instant the possibility that the other might be in the right. If we both made this effort we should get on better. If you felt that I made it you would not feel that I was despising you, and if I felt that you made it I should not be tempted to vehemence. When I speak of your not imagining that I may be right, I mean you don’t imagine that perhaps your beliefs would be better if you altered them in my direction a bit.6 But perhaps I am unjust in this — what you say about a personal God is against what I say. But the root of the matter is that I think we can each give the other something which will make us both richer. We have begun badly but it is not too late. — Now it is two o’clock so I must go to bed. Goodnight my dearest Life. I love you very deeply and our love shall produce great things.

Friday mg. My Darling Darling Your two dear letters came this morning. They are a great joy. I haven’t time to answer them as I have had to come to the next village to telegraph. I do hope tomorrow will be possible.

Don’t be afraid of my despising your belief — I don’t and never did.

Darling I love you with all my being.

Your
B

• 1

  [document] Document 000301. Proofread against a colour scan of the original.

• 2

  [envelope] A circled “301”. The Lady Ottoline Morrell | Black Hall | Oxford. Pmk: MARLBOROUGH | 11.45 AM | DE 29 | 11

• 3

  black spot which might ultimately spoil my love The “black spot” was Ottoline’s fear that BR would find her dishonest in her beliefs.

• 4

  between believing that there is a God and liking P. and me This was Ottoline’s example.

• 5

  nor I Ottoline remarked in pencil on the letter: “Yes I have”.

• 6

  When I speak … my direction a bit. BR added in the margin: “I see this is not true, but there is something more or less like it that is true I think.”