Letters to a Friend

by Constance Babington Smith

  My [holiday] plan is the Isle of Wight in early August. I hope to have done the book by then. Do you have a holiday or change? I hope so. I hope to be all right in a few days—the 2nd go is never much, I am told.

  Forgive this ill-written screed, and my love always.

  R.M.

  20, Hinde House, Hinde St., W.1

  19th July, 1952 †

  My dear Hamilton,

  Since I wrote to you about a week ago, from my bed, I have recovered (the attack only lasted a week) and have had from you an a[ir] l[etter], an a[ir] p[aper], and a very nice packet of assorted journals, cuttings, etc.; I was particularly pleased with the article on Catholic novelists … [by] Martin Turnell … and the one from Blackfriars on the working of the Mind of the Church in arriving at its strange conclusions—Immaculate Conception, Assumption, etc., etc.—all to safeguard the Incarnation, it said, which seems to me nonsense. Surely the Incarnation doesn’t need to be bolstered up by all that semi-magic— and how does the Perpetual Virginity help, which seems directly contradicted by the Gospels? That “Mind of the Church” of which the Romans are so fond, harnessing to it their interpretation of the Holy Ghost, always seems to me like the Wild Goose —” I don’t know where the wild goose goes, but I must go where the wild goose goes”—quite unpredictable, and (worse) directed by the very fallible Vatican. I thought the article (obviously sub-sceptical, if not ironic) very good. In the end, they will ruin the Church—their branch, I mean—by going too far in affronting every one’s intelligence. I am much interested in your account of your “Infatuation,” which seems to me so very natural and almost inevitable. I don’t know if you used to go ever to the R.C. churches in Malta, or what their effect would have been. I suppose I was inoculated early, and never became infatuated, though I was fond of our Varazze churches. But they weren’t “religion”; that was what we were taught by my mother at home in her admirable “Prayer Book lessons” on Sundays; never have I been more inspired by a desire to be Good and to please God. I like what you quote from The Venture of Prayer; when I have a moment I shall get it to read…. Yes, you are right: personal influences are the predominating factor in starting one on roads; either in life or in books. But in the background there is perhaps always that inevitability created by natural character, or by a long chain of circumstances, hereditary and other. If you had ‘verted, I wonder if you would have been happy in it, and if you would have been a priest, and a Religious. Interesting speculations. And would you now (no) have been writing me such interesting a.l.s and a.p.s about the Holy Ghost? Your a.p. on this subject is masterly in conciseness and packed meaning. Now, what about those bodies which, feeling themselves led by the Spirit, do start independent churches, but as Christian, Bible-led and dogmatic as the Church they left? They don’t all lead towards relaxation of doctrine and loss of faith in the Incarnation and sacraments; many are very devoutly orthodox, and have an evangelical saving belief in Christ, though not in the Catholic Church. I couldn’t myself ever have been a member of such bodies; but because I don’t care for their style, not because I doubt their orthodox Christianity. And I do feel that we might be willing to unite with them, as so many people feel we shouldn’t; we needn’t concede anything by letting them communicate in our churches, no point of faith, I mean. Or is this quite wrong? The matter seems to have rather come up lately. I value the contact with God through the Sacrament more than anything in the world; but I don’t believe that I think the Sacrament is confined by God to those who receive it from apostolically ordained priests. You will perhaps be sorry I feel like this; I hope not! Perhaps I am too “protestant,” am I? But I don’t want to be intolerant like the Papists, with all their defences and walls to shut other Christians out, and their refusal even to pray with them—that cant be Christian; what would Christ have thought of it? When we were little girls going to the daily convent school at Varazze for a time, the nuns wouldn’t even let us join in prayers with the other children; we had to sit down, lest the awful sin should be committed of praying with little heretics. My mother was much vexed by this. To my mind it is anti-Christ. Well, I am working at high pressure, having promised to let my publishers have a chunk of the Book by Monday (day after to-morrow). It isn’t exactly healthy, but won’t last long, I hope. … 1 shall go to the I. of Wight in the first week of August, for about a fortnight, which will be nice. I shall be with my sister….

  I want to read some Jakob Boehme, as well as the Venture of Prayer. It will be nice to read some books other than about ruins, and other than the going-to-sleep books I read in bed. I would like a long spacious time with no duty books to read; just books about places and history and ideas. And I would like to be in Italy, but that can’t be, looking at beautiful things. … I am returning to my early swim now I feel better…. By the way, thank you for sending me that American Ordinary and Canon of the Mass; it is almost what we say in the Chapel, with a few differences, and of course not all the “propers” included. And it has the prayer for the dead in the prayer for the whole Church, that I so much [wish] we had. Why don’t we? We don’t only want to “bless thy name” for them, but to pray for them. Well, here is the end, and the end too of the afternoon, and I must go out a little for air before I work again. Your letters refresh me greatly. My love always. Please pray that I may get this book done.

  Your affectionate

  R.M.

  Train from Romford

  25th July, 1952 †

  My dear Hamilton,

  Thank you so much for your splendid a[ir] l[etter] of 21st July et seq., which came to-day, and which I took to Romford to answer in the train and (as now) waiting at the station. And for a[ir] p[aper] of 17th, telling of your perilous ascent to find Wickham Legg’s book—I’m so glad you got safely to earth with it. Yes, isn’t it a good and interesting work; I find a lot in it that I like to know, and wish it was mine, not the L[ondon] L[ibrary]’s! I find it useful in such discussions as I was having the other night with Harman Grisewood, the very nice, intelligent, cradle-Catholic talks Controller at the B.B.C. I and someone else were trying to convince him that the C. of E. and P.B. affirmed the Real Presence—I adduced the P.B. consecration prayer, and other communion prayers, and Article 28, and the Catechism. He thought we only believed in a memorial; how ignorant of us they are! But we had an interesting discussion—which started because I referred to “the Anglican Mass,” and he said, very kindly and politely, that that was, surely, a contradiction in terms. I half promised to send him a P.B. A Canadian present said that the Canadian Episcopalians did only believe in a memorial (unlike the Americans). Can this be so? We had an affable theological evening and also discussed the growing illiterate speech among the young—e.g. “Let you and I——”, “He told John and I,” which is, it seems, becoming common even among young public school types. It seems very odd! They wouldn’t say “Let I,” “He told I”—it seems to need a second name. Our hostess said her son’s friends did this. What are we coming to?

  I am all right now; yesterday I got off a section of the Ruins; I am now working very hard on the next bit. I had to stop to go to Romford this afternoon and evening, for my sister’s birthday; am now in the train back (forgive writing if you can). Yes, C. of E. clergy have a pretty rough time in G[raham] G[reene]’s books—” false hasty intellectual force” indeed— what does he mean?

  I must get hold of the Raccolta,1 it sounds fascinating. I am ignorant about Our Lady of Pompeii; when was her shrine put up there, and is it a pilgrimage centre? Even that may, one supposes, be conducted by the Holy Ghost, who has led so many strange affairs. No: of course I mean The Mind of the Church, not the Holy Ghost. But even that may be led of the Spirit sometimes. Now which way is the Spirit leading the Church—towards exclusiveness or union? I do see your point about the dangers, and you know I don’t want anything watered down. But all the time I remember those 3 little girls at the Italian convent school, who weren’t allowed to join in the prayers because Catholics could not pray wit
h Protestants, and somehow one knows that is wrong. But is it so different from the Church saying they can’t admit dissenters to their worship? I don’t feel the question of the church “becoming Presbyterian” is concerned. It is a question of admitting Presbyterians to our communion. (The 17th century C. of E. wouldn’t have been lastingly Presbyterian, if the King had yielded to his enemies on that point, any more than it was lastingly so when it was forced to become Presb. during the Commonwealth.) But I don’t (as you know) want any change in the Church in a nonconformist direction, only toleration and admission to its altars. But a schism would be dreadful. One would have no home— I couldn’t join either section. I suppose that whatever Grosvenor Chapel did, I should feel impelled to do; but I should regret it. And we should be no nearer union with Rome, until we accepted the Pope as our infallible autocrat and head and I don’t think we should ever do that, though Hugh Ross Williamson would (and no doubt soon will).2 …

  On Tuesday I am bidden to a party at Graham Greene’s. Wouldn’t it be interesting if at that party I was surrounded by G.G. characters—evil men, racing touts, false clergymen, drunken priests and with G.G. in the middle of them talking about Sin….

  Sunday. I meant to get this off before—but have been struggling with the Ephesus ruins, how they looked at different dates, before Wood began his 1869 excavations. I am still immersed in them (like S. Paul, I fight with beasts at Ephesus), but will go to post. So with love.

  R.M.

  August

  20, Hinde House, Hinde St., W.1

  2nd August, 1952 †

  My dear Hamilton,

  (I am trying out a new pen, I hope its results will be legible and beautiful.) I sent you an a[ir] l[etter] last Sunday, and since then have had your a[ir] p[aper] posted 25th, for which so many thanks. I am off to Wight, that charming island, in a day or two, and shall be back somewhere round the 20th. (My letters will be forwarded from here—much better than giving addresses.) I shall like being there very much: it is so peaceable and pretty and 19th century (but a lot of C. 17 in the middle of the island). And the sea is lovely, though goes out miles and miles! But I do like to be beside the sea-side. I have been having rather a gruelling time, but have now told the publishers they cannot have the book in time for Christmas publication; it will be hard work to give it them in time for the early spring, even. Don’t hunt for old magazines—only if anything of interest should turn up, of course I would like to see it. I got a lot of interest out of your last package. I will find out if Commonweal is still extant; it is certainly v.g. Yes, their periodicals are certainly better than ours. I wonder why?

  I am much interested in what you say about your “infatuation” in Malta and elsewhere. I was thinking the other morning, a morning I (a) hadn’t my car, so couldn’t get far so early, (b) wasn’t feeling very well, (c) wanted, all the same, to make my communion—well, I thought, if I go to St. James’s (R.C. Church), Spanish Place, just round the corner, and not only assisted at mass but communicated—would it be a terribly dishonest and ill-mannered thing to do? I think, on the whole, it would, don’t you? I hope I regard it as all the one Church, and its differences man-made, [but] they don’t; they don’t think I am “in a state of grace,” or communion-worthy, and, tho’ they wouldn’t know I wasn’t, I suppose it would be mean to trick them like that. So I struggled to the Annunciation, 1/2 mile away, which I don’t care for. Next time I shall get to St. Thomas’s.

  Sunday. I did so. After Mass there was a Hail Mary. Gerard Irvine said they say it in Latin when only the celebrant and one priest are there. I would rather like that. When I have the car, I like to go to my Chapel, and just say my prayers there, before the tabernacle. Then I say the prayers I like, and don’t find myself bothered by the ones I don’t, as I do at these very Romanised churches.

  I went to drink with G. Greene last week; not a single priest there! Can they have dropped him, or he them? …

  Sunday. I think I shall soon send you a novel by someone I know that might amuse you1; it is about her attempts to become R.C. (to marry one) and her final decision not to. I believe her conversations with the priests are very accurate; one of them says so, I hear! It is otherwise a rather amusing book, and I like its author, a very nice, cheerful young widow in her 30’s. She comes to the Chapel on Sundays often.

  I shall send you word from the Island, sometime. Meanwhile, thank you for your P.S. (“pro te oro …”).2 I do so value that. And your “prosperumiter.”3 I am sure it will be. Now I must go and sort some clothes out for packing and taking. I have a pair of lovely new rubber bathing shoes, striped blue and yellow, for camouflage in sea and sand (I don’t wear them in the water, of course, but they are very useful on the shingly sands). I love the sea, I love swimming, I love it all. I expect you feel I should have outgrown it—but why outgrow anything one likes?

  My love always,

  R.M.

  20 Hinde House, Hinde Street, W.I.

  4th August, 1952 †

  My dear Hamilton,

  This is only a P.S. to yesterday’s letter, to say I had a letter from Mrs. Paine asking if we could meet in the middle of the month—nth, 12th, or 13th when she will be in London. I am very sorry I shall be away, I should have loved to see her. I have written to tell her so. It was nice of her to write. She says she is soon after that going back to America. It is bad luck.

  Thank you for a[ir] p[aper] of 30th, that came this morning. Anglican Orders: yes … I will read Dix.1 I liked his Shape of the Liturgy. I suppose opinions vary from those who think that any one who wants to follow Christ’s teachings and [believes] that the communion will help them, can receive it, and those who feel it should be exclusively for valid members of the Church. There are all degrees, between those two views.

  I shall be interested in Our Language,2 and will try and get it. Does he think we shall end by saying “me” in the nominative? I rather like “he drive a car.” I much prefer the Norfolk speech as you quote it to the horrible “for George and I.” … Oddly, I’d rather have “for I,” without the “George”—but that these semi-genteel people don’t say, though probably Norfolk would. The question is, why do they feel it more of an accusative without the second name thrown in? I’m sure they wouldn’t know. So it would be no use asking them.

  Bank Holiday, and a rainy one. I hope it will be finer tomorrow and on the Island, for I and Jeanie.

  I am reading The Next Million Years.1 It seems we are to run out of food, coal, oil, everything and so will perish off the earth. Perhaps in the New Jerusalem, with its honey and milk(!) we shall revive our strength. Do you know that we get no more nourishment from eating a sheep than we should get from the grass that sheep had eaten, if we had the patience to eat it? But a mutton chop is more concentrated, as well as nicer, so I shall stick to it.

  I shall be back by 21st. Much love.

  R.M.

  Yes, I like “a coat what’s buttons”… [sic] or should it be, more logically, “which’s”? … Canon Hood has now passed over Pusey [House] to Fr. Maycock (late vicar of Little St. Mary’s [Cambridge], Crashaw’s church.)

  Westfield Park Hotel, Ryde, Isle of Wight

  12th August, 1952 †

  My dear Hamilton,

  (What a grandiose piece of paper this is! Scarcely suitable, really, for an air letter—but I have finished my note-block and must use this till I go to the shops and buy another.) Yours (posted 8th) came this morning—must have made Hinde House on nth, which is quite good. It was nice to get it, on this island, where the tides are against early swimmers this week, being some miles out till late afternoon, so I bathe at odd places round the island whither we drive with our tea. To-day or to-morrow I may see J. B. Priestley, who lives the other side of the island….

  I got here after an enjoyable drive from London, via 3 abbeys—Romsey, Netley, Beaulieu. Netley looked very different from what it does (look up that use of “what” in your C[oncise] O[xford] Dictionary]—I’m sure it is quite illiterate) in the old p
ictures and the old descriptions (see Horace Walpole, and all the accounts of it till lately), when it was covered with ivy and sprouting with trees, and looked very “wild,” “picturesque,” etc. But the Ministry of Works took it over, and in 1922 stripped it of ivy and trees, and it now stands neat and stark and gaunt. I complained to the keeper at the gate. He said that “most people” prefer it like this, which I doubt. “Ivy is pernicious to ruins”; while as to trees—“well, you don’t expect to see trees growing inside churches, do you.” Actually, when it is a ruined abbey church, I do. But it is a grand ruin, and so is Beaulieu, lying like a foundered skeleton ship by its deserted past. I would like to see these abbeys—at least some of them—restored and rehabilitated. It wouldn’t cost 1/100th part of what we now squander on weapons of war. And how nice to have Britain jewelled again with abbeys, bells pealing, vespers and Mass floating out, processions winding round them, wayfarers entertained! We could share them out with R.C.s, we to get most, which would infuriate them, as they hate us to have any pre-Reformation churches. I hate this smug, superior attitude. Pax is an exception, I always think; I’m glad they appreciate Dom Gregory Dix. And I’m glad he was a staunch C. of E. man. I shall certainly read the Letters to a Layman —I wonder if the layman did “go over” in the end. I suppose I am further from the Church than you, or than Dom Gregory. For I don’t believe in what it has promulgated down the centuries because it has promulgated it: I think it wasn’t necessarily guided into truth by the Holy Ghost, but often misunderstood, owing to its human, earth-bound limitations and prejudices (as when it thought it had to torture and burn unbelievers in the name of God—a practice we have repented of and disavowed as evil, but they never have in words). I think they derived the exaltation of Mary from very ancient sources—there has so often been a Virgin goddess and mother of heaven, in so many cults, it seems profoundly a human need. To me (is this arrogant?) it seems that this was the derivation of the whole cult. Now, in making her bodily assumption de fide, they have gone beyond all reason, and troubled even many of their faithful members. And was the apotheosis of Mary so very early? You will know better than I do about this; I suppose it developed gradually. But I see no need for it, and it seems inherently improbable, and surely irrelevant to the Incarnation. Don’t think all this very arrogant and argumentative—what business have I to be arguing with you about it? But I have got into a habit of saying to you just what I think, and very likely I am quite wrong about most of it. Only that great Church does so often shock me. Look at the line it has taken about “miracles” that all its educated members know to be bogus—statues that move their eyes, the liquefaction of blood, etc., etc.—manipulated by priests, who pretend to the simple that it is genuine. Can they think the H[oly] G[host] wants them to lie like that? I am so thankful to belong to the C. of E., which has got so much nearer what seems like truth. Though ioo years ago, I should have liked it much less! And particularly its stupid intolerant abuse of Rome (in which I appear to be joining!). Forgive my intransigence. I think Rome is slowly moving towards more comprehension of truth, don’t you? (Or not?)