Carrington's Letters

by Dora Carrington

  Yr loving Mopsa

  Carrington now started a tradition of writing a poem to Lytton on his birthday each year.

  To Lytton Strachey

  1 March 1920

  To G. L. S. on his Fortieth Birthday

  Now Forty wishes do I bring,

  To you on this day of spring,

  The first day that the joyful hare

  Skips across the farrows Bare.

  Happy, Happy, hare of March.

  Nibbling at the budding larch

  Do you know that Lytton dear,

  Now has reached his fortieth year?

  Do you know you Blackbirds gay,

  That this is my Lord’s birthday?

  Sing you thrushes, sing sweet wren,

  Lay snow eggs you yellow hen,

  Sing on Bullfinch, sing your best

  And Daffy show your yellow vest

  For soon our Dearest one will pass,

  Walking on the happy grass.

  Apple trees come out in Bloom,

  And Bring the gorse, & yellow Broom

  None must stand aloof today

  All must sing, and none may pray,

  Lytton, dear, I have no song.

  I cannot join the Birdies throng,

  I have no scent, no petals bright,

  To lay before you to delight.

  Only this little wish I give

  That you for eighty years may live,

  But that’s too short! Pray let it be

  Forty Thousand years WITH ME.

  Soon afterwards, the trio set off for Spain, taking a boat to Lisbon and trains on to Seville, Cordoba and Granada. It then took them three days to struggle up to Gerald’s house at Yegen, by carriage and mules; Lytton suffered agonies from piles, the food disagreed with him and Carrington and Ralph felt the strain, as did Gerald.

  To Gerald Brenan

  Hotel Terminus, Madrid

  18 April 1920

  Dear Geraldo,

  At last I have time to write you a letter so warm of thanks that your fingers would get burnt, if you knew how much I loved the Yegen life, those four days. I shall always look back on them as some of the best visionary days I have ever spent. And in a curious way so interesting, combining so many delights of which your company was one of the greatest. It’s strange but I feel like apologising because I feel I didn’t ‘show up’ very well. I was rather tired, and anxious, and selfish. I’m afraid you didn’t enjoy our visit as much as we did. I shall, I promise you, come out with our dear R. P. next September, in a different frame of mind, armed with pots and paints and no grief. But you will keep well till then? And eat properly? I know it’s a dreadful nuisance but truly you know you weren’t looking very well in spite of your red face, and you shouldn’t get boils on your feet in good health […]

  Tomorrow we go to the Escorial, and then on Wednesday I shall see the Prado again. These pictures make me want to give up everything and become an artist entirely […]

  R. P. I think is enjoying himself. I was sorry you saw his sorrow. I wanted our visit to be entirely happy with you. But it is a great thing that the beauty of your landscape and your life sent us all away purified from cares.

  Your honey still graces our breakfasts. And your figs are yet with us. It was such a good time. Thank you so much. I send my love

  Yr Carrington

  To Gerald Brenan

  The Mill House

  Started on 5 May 1920

  Dearest Gerald,

  At last I am back in this valley of green grass, and a wilderness of weeds. How much has happened since I left you. But what a difference it makes writing to you now, when I know the face of the postman who will leave your letter (this very letter at your door), and your library. I believe if you were to cross-examine me when I was 80, I should remember every detail of Yegen and your kitchen! So much did I love even the smallest details. What shall I tell you of first? But please be very lenient to my shortcomings as a writer. I’ve even a greater respect now than I had before I came to see you, for your character, therefore I’d like to please you with my letters, since I can no longer charm your stomach with delicacies. (PS By the way was that a good marmalade pie I made you.)

  […] Oh Gerald I wish you were here, such afflictions have fallen upon us. And Ralph would give a good deal I think to have you with him. There is nothing new. It is only he is very unhappy which makes me in despair also. And as far as I can see there is no solution. It seems appalling that in this world when one gets on with so few people, when one does care for someone as much as I do for him and he does me, one must part because of these difficulties. It is impossible to go on being perpetually unhappy and worried which is what he is doing now. Yet I know, even if I did not think of myself, to marry him would not make it any better. Because one cannot change a spirit inside one. And it is that he cannot possess. But I will not burden you with all this. I think it is aggravated by his being at Oxford, with no real interests to occupy his time when he is away from me.

  Lytton came back to Tidmarsh yesterday. We spent the evening reading poetry. But it was rather depressing because one missed Ralph and I cannot bear to know such good people are miserable.

  Friday

  I write now in a train to Oxford.

  It’s delightful being back at Tidmarsh. We have a new housekeeper which is rather tiresome. But otherwise the joy, after so much travelling and beastly Hotels, and finally LONDON, of waking up in that big bedroom and seeing the sun outside shining on the grass and to hear cuckoos in the fields beyond is very great. The beginning of this sentence is so removed that I’ve underlined it. It appears that the root of all my diseases: throats and colds – is a defective nose. I went to a specialist in London, who discovered I had bent the cartilage in the centre, and that until it was straight I would never get better. So next week I have to go into a hospital in LONDON and have it cut out. I confess I am not looking forward to it. As it will make one rather weak and also increase, and ruin, my already too large nose. But if it really does rid me of these infernal throats I shall not complain […] Lytton will write to you soon. He loved Yegen so much you know. It was a pity he got so tired at the beginning of the visit. But in spite of that he said he would be always glad he undertook, for him, such an amazing experience.

  Do you know sometimes I almost feel like flying with my paint boxes and leaving all these complications and simply changing my life and settling at Yegen. But I suppose it would be fantastic! From the train now I can see Wantage downs and the tops of those woods where we picnicked last summer.

  Ralph was angry and bewildered that although Carrington would sleep with him she would not marry him. He was becoming aware that it was Lytton she really loved, not him, and was threatening to destroy their triangle.

  To Lytton Strachey

  St Mildred’s Hall, Oxford

  2 o’ck, 7 May 1920

  My Dearest Lytton,

  He has just gone off to row. He is quite happy again. I just teased him about being unhappy, and behaving so badly, and he was charming, and didn’t talk about it any more and said: ‘Do you know for a moment I was so cross, that I nearly kept Lytton here last night, as I didn’t want him to go. And I wanted for a moment to make you suffer because I was cross with you. But then when I thought how you would miss him not coming I let him go. Because I wanted after all to make you happy.’ I am going up to Ruth [Selby-Bigge] whilst he rows this afternoon and we dine with them tonight. Dear one, I dare not say it hardly. But I think it may come alright. He is so friendly. And quite happy and talking about Tidmarsh and you. I think yesterday must have been a pent up outburst. Oh I am so sorry you were so unhappy. I think it best to stay here the weekend. I will come back early on Monday. I only hope James will come and that you won’t get depressed. Everything today seems to have disappeared. I expect that in spite of everything you said, you really comforted him a great deal. I have every hope by next week we will have him back at Tidmarsh. Will you accept my insurance on it? For �
�� thirty pounds?

  Please dear, will you burn this letter? As he reads everything he can find when he comes to Tidmarsh. And we will remember these days without reminders. I want to buy either a little fox, or a snake which I saw in an arcade this morning. Would you mind a little dear fox?

  I am just going to send you a wire and go up to Ruth’s. I thank you so much.

  Yr most loving Carrington

  To Lytton Strachey

  St Mildred’s Hall, Oxford

  Saturday, 6 o’ck, 8 May 1920

  Dearest Lytton,

  I was so glad of your letter this morning […] My dear one, all is for the best, not a trace of unhappiness in him today. I think you must be responsible for it because he is so happy now and never refers to anything, or makes those announcements about the future. We had tea with Ruth yesterday and then went [for] a long walk in the country. And talked about things. But he was perfectly calm, and happy. I told him that I wanted him to realize when I gave you affection it didn’t rob him of any, and that one ought not to give affection to him, at the expense of making other people unhappy. When really one had so much love inside and enough to give to so many people. (But it’s impossible to explain now in this letter.) I think he saw how fond I was of him and that it was important to concentrate on the happiness we had, instead of all the time aiming for something we hadn’t […] And coming back across the fields by Marston at seven o’ck he said shyly ‘Do you know I thought it might be rather nice to go to Tidmarsh this weekend perhaps’, ‘or even if we can’t this weekend perhaps next week’. I could have cried for pleasure at hearing him say it. But as he had to row this evening till 7 o’ck, and as your letter said you had asked someone else and Ottoline had asked us out tomorrow, I thought it might be better for him to come over one day next week. But it’s such a great relief to have him as he used to be, perfectly happy, and so charming all day long […]

  Yr most loving

  Carrington

  To Lytton Strachey

  Royal Free Hospital, London

  Saturday morning, 7.30, 22 May 1920

  Very dear Lytton,

  I am feeling much better today but I’ve not been allowed to get up yet […]fn114 Today I’ve got the other disease so I am more complacent lying in bed. I am thinking over everything very seriously and when I get back I’ll give you six ultimatums and then off with your head! Like the King I sit on horseback reviewing my past life and the future. Today I decided it was a very happy one and mostly, can you guess why, because of a friend I have? And you’ll be going off to Oxford very soon and sporting yourself, perhaps in white flannels, and a Trinity blazer, along the tow path arm in arm with Alan. I suspect you of the vilest vanities when my back’s turned!

  The nosey is recovering its shape to my infinite relief. But do you know I weighed myself this morning and I was only 8 stone 8 lbs. Which pleases me. It looks as if it will be divinely fine this weekend at Oxford, I am glad […] And really I suppose young men aren’t as nice as one imagines they are, lying in a sage green ward. Positively my heart leapt up to see a man in trowsers yesterday enter the ward, although he was a miserable spotty doctor. But to think of a world of females as one lives in here, chills the blood. I think I shall draw today. I see rather good compositions lying in bed of white nurses and bedclothes, and green green walls. I wish I could have seen Virginia. Did you tell her how sorry I was it couldn’t be arranged? How nice it is to think of the summer coming, and no more cold and rain. But of course you are hardly the person to write that to! I am much happier today and feel ever so much better. But what a long time it seems since Thursday. My first sneeze has just taken place. Very extraordinary sensation! Now goodbye to my dear one

  Yr Mopsa

  While Carrington was staying with the MacIvers with Ralph, Lytton’s sister Dorothy visited Tidmarsh with her artist husband, Simon Bussy. He admired Carrington’s recent paintings, including one of the Mill with two black swans on the millpond.

  To Lytton Strachey

  Wanlass How, Ambleside

  Wednesday, 21 June 1920

  Dearest,

  Your letter made me so happy yesterday I read it over so many times. It is only I do care really so much more than I pretend to about what people think of my work, and I value the opinion of Simon particularly as he hasn’t any axe to grind. I meant he didn’t have to say something kind because I was present, & also because he has seen so many pictures in France. Thank you very much for making me so happy. You know in a curious way one feels what one means to do, & then when nobody sees it in one’s work, & when Duncan & Vanessa liked not what I tried for, but for something else, I was confused. I tried so hard when I painted that Mill picture, for a certain vision, & I felt depressed afterwards because I thought I must have failed completely, as no one saw. Only a small part of it did come off, but that Simon should have seen that delighted me.

  Yesterday it poured all day until four o’ck, so I read Dorothy’s journal.fn115 Sometimes it is too intimate & exciting. ‘William read us “Peter Bell” in the orchard’, ‘William wrote late, & read me “The Rainbow” before retiring’, imagine it! What days they must have spent together, & those moonlight walks by the Lake! I am glad I know now her bedroom, I have even seen her wash stand, & the old cracked yellow jug & basin, and the little seat of stones that they built near Rydal where William used to compose his poetry. Yet I have had a Poet read me his poetry! I thought in many ways it was so like our life. And I loved them both so much, for the way they sowed Broad Beans & she darned socks, & he read Shakespeare to her. But I fear I cannot recall that I even baked bread, & pies & copied out neatly your verses! Alan took us a walk after tea yesterday up a Mountain, just near the house, & we had an amazing view of Windermere from the top, but the Langdale Pikes, where we went the other day, were all buried in mists. It was wonderful watching the rain driving across the big lake, & the light piercing the mists far off like rays from the Holy ghost in Heaven. When we came back we helped him clean his motor car until dinner. Then afterwards they taught me billiards, which interest me immensely. But I find it rather difficult to control my cue, & my excitement. Ralph was very good. I played with Alan’s married brother […]

  Did you read Gerald’s postcard? How typical to have written a letter which has got blown away by the wind! It looks better today, but the sun hasn’t come out yet. Still I think we shall climb a combe, sun or no sun. The portrait of Alan went better yesterday. Mrs MacIver is a woman of understanding & has given me a little library for my own to paint in, undisturbed. Ralph read us Peter Bell whilst I painted, & some English Essays. I am glad the weekend was such a success, & that you are keeping well. I wonder if I shall ever settle down to a life without motorcars! But if one couldn’t walk this would be an awful country. The roads are absurdly unbearable with traffic & hearty Manchester people in tweeds with sticks. When one reads of Dorothy Wordsworth’s life on these very same roads, & the occasional beggars & pedlars who passed their cottage … & then views the same road with its unending processions of cars, coaches, buses, & pedestrians one groans. Life is very chaste here, very, and when do you put spice in your cake & eat it?

  Love from yr Mopsa

  To Lytton Strachey

  The Mill House

  Friday, 12 o’ck [3 September 1920]

  Don’t leave my letters lying about. It may be childish but I rather hate those grown up people knowing how much I care for my Dearest Lytton […] I’ve invited the Nashes over for the weekend rather vaguely. His wife is attractive, German.fn116 It’s a pity we haven’t a piano she plays so well. But I hardly think somehow they will come.

  All this decision business has upset me. I feel rather unhinged by it. I hate so much (a) to be responsible, and make my decision in any direction (b) perhaps even more to hurt a human being and make anyone unhappy. It seems wrong that with a surplus of affections for so many human beings that there can’t be combined happiness for more than two people at a time. But I shall leave it now
, and see how things work out. Do you know how extraordinarily happy that conversation you had with me on Wednesday evening has made me? I care so much. I hope you’ll get really rested down in Sussex and quite forget that old Hag Victoria. I wish I could be with you in spirit, sitting invisibly by the fire tonight watching you talk, and listening to all the fun. Perhaps I shall be there, so you had better be careful. No, really it’s lovely here now so hot that one can sit with pleasure out of doors and birds chirping, just because you’ve gone away. What a damned cynic this old clerk of the weather must be. How I miss you already. The last few days were such good ones […]

  Lytton dear, do you know what comfort you are to me. I feel as long as you live on this earth I can never mind anything.

  Yr most loving Mopsa

  Carrington was now under great pressure from Ralph, who had left Oxford and was looking for a job in London, to live with him in Gordon Square during the week. She dreaded being forced to abandon Lytton, who did his best to reassure her:

  My dearest, I am sure that all is really well between us, which is the great thing. Some devil of embarrassment chokes me sometimes, and prevents me expressing what I feel. You have made me so happy during the last 3 years, and you have created Tidmarsh, as no one else could have – and I seem hardly to have said thank you. But you must believe that I value you and your love more than I can ever say. It seems to me that your trying the G. Square experiment is probably right. But whatever happens you must rely on my affection.