BR TO OTTOLINE MORRELL, 14 OCT. 1911
BRACERS 17304. ALS. Morrell papers #218, Texas
Proofread by K. Blackwell et al.

<letterhead>
Trinity College,
Cambridge.1^, 2
Sat. mg. Oct. 14. 1911

My Darling Darling

Since I wrote last I have had three letters from you — two by the same post yesterday, one from Meran, one written in the train, and now this morning your letter from Milan. It is a feast, and I am glad you too have had three letters at Milan. I have quite forgotten what I said in my letter last Sat., which you say you liked best. I have followed your directions about addressing letters exactly, but I think you allowed rather more time than was necessary — that was how you got more the last days in Meran. Dearest your letters are a joy.

I am so relieved that you are happier now. It was disappointing to be so bad in Vienna. I don’t think I ever hoped as much from the baths as you did. The only thing that I believe would do you real good would be a winter in the desert in Africa. You need heat, dryness, and freedom from worries and responsibilities. I don’t believe in there being anything definite for which there is a medical cure — it is that life requires rather more physical energy than you have, I believe; but if you once got started right you might keep so. But I dare say I am wrong and that gout or rheumatism is really at the bottom of it. I think it is both that and the other.

I have not yet fixed on a flat — I hesitated about the ones I saw, because they were so very near the Trevys and Sangers. I am going up on Tuesday (my first free day) and I hope that I shall settle. Mrs W. is for the present laid up with arthritis in the knee, and unable to do anything. She says Alys “came yesterday, sad and good, not bitter”.a

Yes, Italy is heavenly — it is the home of the soul. I envy you even your glimpse of it. How lovely the journey is from Verona to Milan — the lake of Garda, and the campaniles in the plain. — You must have found ever so many letters from me in Lausanne, and a whole long book of them will be waiting for you in Paris tonight. Please let me know your date of return, and what times you expect to be able to see me, as soon as you can. If you could get home Thursday night, it would be a godsend to me, as I am free all Friday. Otherwise, it will be scraps of Saturday and Monday, and the whole of Tuesday I am free. Tuesday and Friday will be my complete free days, apart from week-ends. I am getting terribly impatient — it makes it hard to get to sleep at night — I lie awake counting the days and thinking and wondering and longing for the moment. Throughout the day the things I have to do keep me quiet.

Maurice Amos arrived yesterday about three minutes after I had posted my letter to you. You no doubt know all about him: his Grandfather was Downing Professor of Law, and instructed Queen Victoria in the constitution; his father was also a lawyer, and had an important part in making the present laws in Egypt when we first went there. He died when Maurice was a boy. Mrs Sheldon Amos, his mother, was a tiresome emotional person, with sex-mania, which took the form of combatting vice: Mrs Pearsall-Smith knew her in the Temperance world, and that was how I got to know Maurice — Logan took me to call on him in 1891 when he was a freshman here. Maurice did philosophy here, and then went to Egypt, because Lord Cromer remembered his father and that gave him a start. He is a judge out there. He is the only man I know who reads mathematics for amusement. He has read a tremendous lot of it. His wife is a Quaker, daughter of Sir Colin Scott-Moncrieff, quiet, plain, not very interesting, but I should think quite nice. His views on Egyptian matters, as far as I can judge, are absolutely fair, and inspired by a real feeling for the people: some of them are his colleagues and he knows them well. I like him very much, tho’ his habit of story-telling makes some people think him foolish.

He has conceived a great affection for Waterlow, in which I can’t follow him. He takes up a lot of my time, but now fortunately he has gone to the Assizes which happen to be on and interest him professionally. Last night I had him and Fletcher (Senior Tutor) and McTaggart and Coulton (the mediaeval man) and Bevan and Neville (the new fellow) and North. North outstayed the lot, and was here till 1.30. He is getting much more grown-up. I enjoyed seeing him again very much.

Don’t be surprised if you don’t get a letter Monday — I don’t think it is possible to get one to you on Monday. Darling I must stop. Your dear dear letters have been an immense joy to me. You cannot really know what your love is to me — it is everything — it has utterly transformed my life. I am hungry for you — I can’t tell you how much I long for you. Goodbye my Beloved.

Your
B.

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  [document] Document 000218. Proofread against a colour scan of the original.

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  [envelope] A circled “218”. The Lady Ottoline Morrell | Hotel des Saints Pères | Rue des Saints Pères | Paris | France. Pmk: CAMBRIDGE | 12.15. PM | OC 14 | 11 | 2

Textual Notes

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  bitter after deleted bittle