Letter 102
BR TO OTTOLINE MORRELL, 11 SEPT. 1918
BRACERS 18692. ALS. Texas
Previous Brixton letter, BRACERS 52370; next letter, BRACERS 19361
Edited by K. Blackwell, A. Bone, N. Griffin and S. Turcon

<Brixton Prison>1
11 Sp. ’18.

My dearest O.

You write such wonderful letters — this one especially2 — you can’t think what a joy it is to me. I am so glad of all you say about the visit to your brother3 and its effect. — Lulworth, 22nd, I shall regard as fixed.4 It is a very warm place — I don’t think we shall freeze. I did write to you after you were here.5 Not knowing how long you would be away I sent it to Garsington — there was also a letter to Brett about her deafness — I hope she got it.6 I think it was Notre Dame de Paris.7

There’s no doubt it was a wise seed you sowed at Broughton.8 Its growth was painful, but now that it is grown I should be very sorry to be without it; Freedom: I never before really conceived it; and it is the great thing.

I have written to Miss Rinder9 telling her what I told you about my finances and saying she may tell Carr. I don’t like him to be puzzled. I had no idea of what you told me about Carr’s having collected money before.10 I didn’t need it then. I could earn, and I had much more capital.11 Also I need more for philosophy because I want to be able to have my books, which is difficult in a garret. Also it is desirable to leave Gordon Sq. All these things together make a vast difference. I did not tell the Whiteheads I had £400 a year in my marriage settlement.12 Mrs W. wrote me a worried letter, purely private and personal it seemed, and I wrote back soothing her worry.13 Never be unselfish or try to be kind! Everybody is kind to me, and I love it — but I feel the time has come for me to give up being kind in ways that interfere with my work. — By the way, I shouldn’t want the fellowship to continue when the war is over, because then I can earn money, which I prefer because it leaves me more free. (More than if I have a post, I mean.)

I am so glad you liked the little paper about my mental adventures in prison.14 Prison has its uses! — but I shall be glad when it is over.

A desperate criminal15 I got into talk with yesterday: his boy had been late for school, he had been fined and refused to pay. He had been 17 years an officer of the Salvation Army and a grocer. He said he wouldn’t have missed prison for worlds. Why? I said. Because he had found here a customer of his, in for bigamy, leaving a wife and children in distress, and my friend had been led by the Lord to undertake the financial care of the wife and children. “That was very good of you”, I said. “Yes” he replied. I was a little disconcerted, not having expected such simple truthfulness. — Quite half the inmates of the prison read my review of Kant in the Nation16 and had some sensible critical opinion about it. This is what the criminal classes are in reality. The other half are mostly debtors and bigamists and a sprinkling of men who have got drunk and committed some folly. I am not, however, turned against the existence of prisons: the visiting magistrates17 I have seen might with great advantage be shut up; they are far worse than anybody inside.

I see Litvinov and smile at him18 — I have had no chance to talk to him. Poor Russia! Gorky’s In the World19 made me understand the Russian misfortunes as nothing else had done. One must have will and the Russians have none. That seems to me the whole matter. The present condition there20 must be ghastly beyond belief.

Thurs.

How lovely of you to be sending me a coloured handkerchief and a bit of soap21 — and how lovely to want to “surprise and delight” me. You have done such wonderful things for me since I have been here. I have loved them.

C.A. says he has lost one lung, and must be very careful as he is definitely tuberculous. What I said of him when I saw you was not exaggerated, I fear. They have weakened his body so much that he won’t be able to achieve great things. It makes one so furious — more than the men who get killed, because it is more wanton and deliberate and cold-blooded. But it is a waste to feel furious.

It gets too near the time of coming out for me to have many ideas beyond dreaming of the joys of freedom. I wonder if Carr liked the plan of a book22 that I sent by you. I thought it rather good myself! He is a dear old Woolley23 isn’t he? The philosophers all always behave well to me. The ones I dislike are those who deceive the young and try to destroy their enthusiasms, in fact generally the ones who are not after truth. It is foolish though to bother with them.

I read Despised and Rejected;24 thought the psychology absolutely right, but the book is not well written, or good except morally. What a lot of useless cruelty there is still through superstition — the law against homosexuality25 is pure superstition. Things are getting worse in those ways: it was only 4 or 5 years ago that incest was made criminal.26 I don’t know how it can be remedied: one can’t have a trade-union of the incestuous, so there is no chance of their grievances getting heard.

This must go. I love your letter this week,27 dearest O., even more than the previous ones — and I delight in all you say of having found poise and so on, and of the effect of K. Lonsdale.28

I am very happy and very well — too busy in my thoughts for general reflections, anxious to get to activities. Goodbye with much much love.

Your
B.

Notes