To Mark Gertler
The Mill House
Tuesday [n.d. July 1919?]
Dear Mark,
Thank you so much for a good letter. It wasn’t in least selfish & its crudity was its point. You never write dull letters and I should be bored if you wrote polite letters asking me questions about myself […]
[…] I am alone here just at present. I must say I always rather enjoy it, as one gets the whole day to oneself with no distractions, although it was very enjoyable having Alix here this last month. Last Sunday I did a little nude painting of that friend of Noel’s, who you saw at Garsington [Partridge]. It’s always so exciting to have the nude to paint again. That’s the main disadvantage of the country, although I find most people, even Alix, are very ready to sit. I have hopes this picture will be better than most of mine. If only I can finish it in the way I want to. Three I abandoned because I couldn’t carry on with them. But I’ve done a good many drawings […] Fancy you working from 10–7. I find it seldom one can work so long.
Next week I have to go to Cornwall with Noel for 2 weeks. He goes to Bombay in September to work in a Printing Firm. So I promised to spend a holiday with him before he goes.
It’s the same place I went to 2 years ago. So I shall I hope be able to do some landscapes. Generally one is so distracted finding out what the county is like that one wastes time. I shall look forward to seeing your work when I come back in the Autumn to London […] I like that book by Daisy Ashford better than any book I’ve ever read. It was sheer pleasure to read. Someone I know met her at a party the other night. They said she confessed she never wrote anything after she was 14, But that the Visiters was entirely her own work and she had written a great many more at the same age! Isn’t it incredible? I believe a mind like that should simply never create again & grow up into from all accounts a perfectly ordinary intelligent young woman! I am so glad you loved it also. How good it was to hear from you again!
Yrs D. C.
None of Carrington’s nude paintings of Ralph have survived, but some of her drawings of unidentified male nudes look very like him. These drawings show an appreciation of the male body, although her appetite for sex with Ralph, as he later told a friend, was never great.
The holiday in Cornwall with him and Noel was a mixed success.
To Lytton Strachey
West Mill Cottage, Welcombe, Bude
Monday [14 July 1919]
Dearest,
Twenty times a day I wish you were here! […]
On Saturday we went to shop and bought food. That took most of the morning, walking up and down innumerable valleys. One’s memory fails one horribly remembering these depths. Such a lunch at the Bush Inn, Morwenstow, for 1/3, cream, saffron buns, and black-a-berrie jam. Then I went after tea to see the Boxes. On the path down the hill Mrs Box appeared driving the cows; she held up both her arms and waved them, with a stick in one hand. And then ran towards me! It was delightful to see her again. She is still full of vigour and every day she fetches the cows from the marshes by the cottage and takes them back to the farm! And she is 72!
Then we called on Jenny and Rebecca Ann. They of course thought the Major the most lovely young man they’d ever seen and inwardly thought what a nice pair we made!
The evening was spent quarrelling vigorously over the war and C. O.s [conscientious objectors] till I became so tired and angry that I gave it up. The night was pleasant but oh dearie, I see God has devised matters so that there can be no pleasures without sorrows in this damned life. I hope for the best. But there is no doubt a teapot and a tube of macaroni aren’t very efficient syringes, and that Lysol mixed in equal quantities with water produces great pain. Quoth the Raven Never More. The entire story is too humiliating and Rabelasian to be written to such an indiscreet old gentleman as you are. So you must wait until we are again hob-nobbing over our winter blaze.
Noel came late on Sunday afternoon. It was such a perfect day. We went and swam in the sea and lay in the hot sun on the rocks. He read me the beginning of Cézanne which I enjoyed enormously. Noel seems very happy and gay. I gathered from his account of a dinner that the Wolves had been playing with him unmercifully. I could hear Virginia plying and probing him with questions. Even he seemed a little perturbed by her curiosity! The Major remains exactly the same. I’m afraid there’s no chance of his ever becoming less dull. His extreme kindness however makes him fairly easy to get on with. This afternoon we took a long walk over Hartland way and missed our tea. Called in on Box who had roasted us a cold fowl and a huge bag of scones and reached the cottage at eight o’ck […]
I wish I had been at the poetry reading of the great poet G. L. S. [Giles Lytton Strachey] which took place one evening. And now I wish that when I come back I’d find a new poem to read by him. I’ve Wordsworth here and Blake and three new wood blocks, so I ought to be happy. We live like Princes with masses of good food and cream every day. And tomorrow we have eel-pie! All the same, all the same, it doesn’t prevent one wishing that a certain young gentleman (as Mrs Box called you today) was here with your
Mopsa xxxxx
Before leaving for Cornwall, Ralph had picked a box of raspberries for Lytton, who promptly wrote to Carrington: ‘They were indeed heavenly. I suppose he would be shocked if I suggested you should give him a kiss from me. The world is rather tiresome I must say – everything at sixes and sevens – ladies in love with buggers, and buggers in love with womanisers, and the price of coal going up too. Where will it all end?’
To Virginia Woolf
The Mill House
Tuesday [n.d.]
My Dear Virginia,
I am only too delighted at the prospect of my humble woodcuts embellishing your Literary masterpiece, & going out into the world again.fn96
But I feel they are poor feathers to adorn your hat. In fact so great is my shame that I may do you another this morning to replace that inferior one of the fireplace. I’ll certainly spend my shillings coming to have tea with you, and the pounds in coming down to Lewes to your new house & taking away some horrible relic of my past which you seem to have unearthed. I’ll give you a new drawing in exchange for it. There! That’s a promise – and a present …
I enjoy living here with Alix, whose character is entirely reformed you’ll be glad to hear. She works all day under the apple tree writing page after page – surrounded by vast Tomes & rhyming dictionaries!! If you guessed twenty times you’d never discover the name of the gentleman who has ousted James, & the King Sloth [David Garnett], from her heart […] the ruralness of this life couldn’t be surpassed. The orchard is full of hay, may flies, & children, mosquitoes bite our bare legs, & the droppings of the Bullfinch have just fallen on Alix’s raven locks. Still in spite of everything Lytton says about his Duchesses, & High life in London, I don’t believe it’s nearly as good as this.
My love to Leonard, & you
Yrs affectionately
Carrington
To Lytton Strachey
Railway Hotel, Oxford
Friday [29 August 1919]
Dearest,
[…] I seized the opportunity of rushing off on Wednesday morning with Majorio to Cirencester. Brenan met us. I am still baffled by his character. At moments one thinks he’s only an energetic talkative Bunny. He seems so vague mentally, and talks about himself and his plans about as persistently. But then unlike Bunny he is much more obstinate, and not in the least influenced by people evidently. He goes to Spain next month with over a ton of books. He had just spent £50 on books in London, and with £150 in his pocket, which he has saved and intends to live by himself in a cottage in the south. His father is a typical crusty retired major, the Irish and Indian combination, who refused to allow him a penny unless he settles down to a respectable occupation. But Brenan himself is so curiously self-centred and detached it’s hard to find out very much about him. He liked your book tremendously and said he would like to come to Tidmarsh before he left England.
Do yo
u know you simply must come with me for a walk from Cirencester to Stroud through Lord Bathurst’s Park. Never have I seen such Avenues, such terrific trees and little arbours where Pope wrote and some temples of stone in groves of cypresses. Then after one emerges from this enormous forest and Park one comes into amazing valleys, with wooded sides. We went over a wonderful 12 cent. Cotswold House called Daneways which is used as a sort of show house, to exhibit the furniture and iron work made by one Gimson. The house itself had lovely ceilings, and was a feat of architecture and beauty. We walked on to a village called Bisley and spent the night in an excellent little house, very cheap only 10/- for the three of us, with a big supper and breakfast. Brenan insisted on us getting up at six o’ck in order to walk to Chedworth. But as it was pouring gallons, we only got a half mile before we were forced to take refuge in a minute shed with a cart in it, into which we clambered. There we sat till half past eleven! The rain and mist never stopped once! We returned to Bisley and chartered a high stepping dogcart. Brenan went back across the valleys to his home and we drove into Stroud. After lunch of course it came out gloriously hot. On Stroud station I recognized, simply by their features, Brenan’s father and young brother. The brother is much more interesting to look at, more sensitive. He goes to Oxford next term. I got on splendidly with the crusty major of course because I praised his Cotswold country which he seemed to think he was personally responsible for. Then we trained to Oxford as the Majorio had to get his clothes for Spain. In the High I saw Noel on a bicycle, who had ridden over from the east on the vague chance of meeting us. We had a great supper and then retreated to our hotel. The major left at 2 o’ck this morning for Liverpool, and to Spain this afternoon. I really am sorry for him. He seems so unhappy and lost.fn97 N.L.C. and I will go back to Tidmarsh today […] We walked over at 9.30 to dear Garsington. As I wanted to see Brett about the furniture. There they were:– all the troupe with their Queen in their midst. Toronto was back again, looking strangely lovely on a great sienna horse. He and Noel went off riding together before lunch. I sat in the red room with Mark, Brett, Julian, and the Frogfn98 more or less in complete silence for almost one hour […] Ethel Sandys [Sands]fn99 turned up after lunch. So Noel and I beat a retreat to Oxford. Mark and Ottoline walked half the way with us along the road. Mark related to Noel, I suppose one of the few people who haven’t heard it, the entire history of his life. Which, strangely, delighted Noel, who was very impressed by him. Ottoline regaled me with grim stories of Katherine and Murry and our other mutual friends […]
I loved your letter. I send you a kiss and all my love. No. I didn’t like Forster’s novel very much. It seemed all the time as if it hadn’t quite come off.fn100
Hugs to the Bugger-wug
from xxxx Mopsa
After hearing stories of him for some time, Carrington had finally met Ralph’s wartime friend Gerald Brenan. She found his decision to leave his conventional background behind to live alone in Spain and become a writer romantic and intriguing. He did indeed visit Tidmarsh in July before leaving for Spain, and was himself intrigued. Looking back many years later he recalled Carrington’s intense blue eyes and ‘sweet, honeyed smiles’ as she welcomed him. Before long, they had started to correspond, and were soon exchanging increasingly long and intimate letters, and she was spinning a plan to visit him. Meanwhile her devotion to Lytton was as strong as ever, though the Freudian symbolism in the next letter may have escaped her.
To Lytton Strachey
The Mill House
(Waiting for lunch, Tuesday, 1.30) 9 September 1919
Dearest,
I miss you so much. What a brute you are to go away almost in the same wind that brought you, and today is so divine, so lovely that I had a Roman Bath in the sauna & then walked under the plum trees in the cool grass. But all rather wasted because you aren’t here! Harry came at 12.30 running with his low kneed legs up the path to me, and asked me to come on the River Thames. I resisted, & said I wouldn’t. ‘Very well then – I’ll go alone’ in a stiff grumpy voice – so of course I had to give in & say that I would go after tea. But why do people on perfect afternoons like this want to go up that vulgar piece of water & squash in locks & vie with other absurd people in marring the landscape […]
I wish by your attitude you didn’t make it almost impossible to tell you how much I care for you. Possibly it’s a good thing. I suspect you of being wiser than most men.
Do you remember those plaintive pen wipers made of red & blue felt with jagged edges, with ‘use me’ embroidered in green on the cover. That’s what I would like you to remember, that I am always your pen wiper
Mopsa xxx
To Gerald Brenan
20 Springfield Road, London N.W.
21 November 1919
[…] I can’t discuss Philosophy any more than R. P. can. So you must have a selection of my days at random after all. First let me say how much I would like to come and make jam for you. Really I think there is quite a chance of persuading Lytton to come out to Spain in March if only he finishes his new bookfn101 and the faithful R. P. as ‘courier’ and possible other companions. Then I might drift down, as they would certainly live in towns, and see you for a little.
You must know I was horribly untruthful to you in London. But it causes one curious pain raking up truths nakedly. Also I didn’t know you well enough. But in Spain why should everything not be told? You are rather like me you know, I am sorry to say it. But you lied slightly about la Egyptienne; your assumed indifference. It wasn’t an exact revelation. Still I did enjoy those days in London with you. By the way R. P. tells me you put on your accounts £1.8 to my name. Really I am sorry. I will bring you some salt butter, and a pot of marmalade when I come out. I’ve lived almost entirely at Tidmarsh since I returned from St Malofn102. I enjoyed that in a way. The country was so exquisite. And the house we lived in amazingly beautiful.
I’ve only been over to Oxford twice. But the young man [Partridge] comes over most weekends to Tidmarsh. He is studying English Literature now, which of course he finds exciting. I think it’s a very good thing for him that he’s given up that law. He may get a job as a traveller in foreign books for the Clarendon Press. I like him more than I did. It’s difficult not to when anyone is so excessively kind and digs my potato patch and sits for my pictures […] tell me about the people you know. And your truthful, and untruthful adventures.
You ought to get Virginia Woolf’s new novel Night and Day. It’s very interesting […] Still tell me when I can do anything for you. And for god’s sake don’t go and be reckless, and get ill, or you’ll be able to eat no jam.
Lytton asked me to send you his love, last time when I told him I was going to write […]
I send my love
Yr Carrington
To Lytton Strachey
20 Springfield Road, London N.W.
Thursday, 11 December 1919
Dearest Old Egotistical HumBug,
So you’ve caught the humility disease? I don’t believe it. You’re as vainglorious as ever, and just pretend not to be laughing at the young males who kneel at the foot of the mountain of iniquity. Your letter delighted me so much […] I had lunch at Canuto’s in Baker Street avec nos roi [Partridge]. He was very charming, but you know all that. I expect he has written to you […] He wanted to take me to a dance, but his mother positively forbids him to bring me to their flat! She doesn’t realize how really safe I am, for I positively don’t want to marry her cherished lamb. But it’s really a relief as I hate being involved with families, and being led into vast deceits. Back to this benighted hole to tell my mother I was going out to dinner with Brett. Really it’s incredible the way she treats me. Conversation: D. C. ‘I am going out to dinner with Brett.’ M. C. ‘Well that is disappointing, And I was having a joint of lamb, now I shan’t eat it. You’ve spoilt my dinner. And I was so looking forward to having an evening with you, and there was to have been a sweet omelette for dinner too. Well you must be back early. Hav
e you got your purse alright, do you want some pennies for a bus? I’ve just had a letter from the agents at Andover.’ etc. […]
Lytton, you give me such a happy life. One day I really hope I shall be an artist, and then you’ll see my affection. We went to a concert at Queen’s Hall last night, and heard Beethoven No. 5 which I knew well, so enjoyed. Then we walked vaguely through the streets looking at the faces of the whores and jam tartlets in Regent Street. Peered in le Café Royal, but the general spectacle of bloated kippers and their Queens with [Augustus] John like a diseased Fish King in the middle with a white cod faced Chilifn103 at his side made me fly. Finally we went into a glittering Lyons in Shaftesbury Avenue, and sipped chocolate. Then back to my mother and your letter. I have risen at 7.30 this morning to write to you! Otherwise it’s impossible to be alone, and without conversations about house agents!
Dearest. I send you my love. Sil vous plaits prends mes lettres dans un coin, as I don’t like that young man reading all my letters to you!
Goodbye, and take care of yourself.
Yrs Carrington
To Noel Carrington
20 Springfield Road, London N.W.
12 December 1919
Dearest Noel
I was, R. P. was, we was, getting quite concerned because I, R. P., we hadn’t heard from you for so long. But this morning mother got 2 letters from you. Therefore do I now write, to wile away a dreary evening. Brett asked me to her studio but mother like a dog in a manger, prefers although I don’t speak to her to have me sitting in the room. She has kept me in the last two evenings sitting here in gloomy solitude. Really it is rather irritating when there are so many people I would like to see. Brett & Gertler & the Gordon Square people & Alix. And as I have spent the last four days painting a tin trunk all day. It’s a bit stiff to have to spend all the evenings couped up here. I am going tomorrow morning. Really it’s more than I can stand. And her curiosity & stupidity nearly drive me mad.
I won’t bore you with her entirely wild doings. Also I won’t take any interest in it. For the minute one does she throws all the responsibility on one, & then if anything goes wrong as of course it will one gets all the blame. But really I do feel mad tonight as I had promised Brett to go out with her, and mother made such a fuss that I had to abandon it, and last night was just the same. R. P. took me to a dance at Queens Hall however, fun, 4.30 to 6.30, which I enjoyed very much. They were ‘nutty’ dances. Your friend was a clumsy cow in comparison. And the damsels leapt into the air & kicked up their heels like young colts, and very elegant legs in sooth. You get a tea & consecutive dancing for 5/- for 2 hrs. I hope we shall go again.
Carrington's Letters Page 15