Carrington's Letters

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by Dora Carrington


  I shall read your letter very often. It was dear of you to write me such a long one. And one which gave me so much pleasure. You are right it wasn’t ‘inevitable’ until Valentine knew. Then it was. And perhaps if I had been wiser, and less fond of her I would have seen it. I repeat what you say: ‘I cannot regret having known you.’ […] I feel a captive now. My spirit has gone. When one is forced to choose one can’t go back and face the torment of choosing all over again, or tempt oneself. I feel very altered, so tired. Thank goodness our friendship was never sordid, that while we lived we were so superbly happy. I feel as if I am in a tomb today. I hear the wind, and the rain but I can’t move. I wonder what you are doing […] You will have forgiven me by now for not coming today. I was too worn out. I haven’t a particle of rashness left in me. In a few years I suppose I’ll be tamed. I am more aware of everything than you suppose, or anyone supposes […] This is goodbye. I am firmer than you think. Nothing will make me write again. But I wanted you to know why I couldn’t bear meeting you today. It wasn’t I didn’t care just as much as you did. I simply couldn’t stand any more unhappiness, for I also want to be now removed from all these scenes, and scandals. My dear Kunak goodbye. I tell you very little but I cannot. Besides there is no use in it now.

  Your loving Doric

  FINIS

  A little later [15 June 1922]

  Gerald, you see I am completely unmoral still. I say I won’t write another line, then I open the envelope again, and write line after line … I want to rewrite all I have written but if I do you will never get it. I mustn’t write any more. One must remember the play is over, the audience has left; the epilogue has been said. The tailpiece and FINIS written on the last page. These are just fly leaves, blanks, then the solid Morocco cover and the book is shut and is put on its shelf. In secret we may write a second volume. But we must not read it until we are very old, and hideous and impotent. Please remember dear that it was harder for me not to see you yesterday than you can possibly imagine …

  Goodbye now. Grrrrrr.

  As the following letter shows, for all her misery Carrington was able to stand back and give Alix a calmer account of the episode, in which she made her priorities quite clear.

  To Alix Strachey

  59 Finchley Road

  (Only for one day in London) 19 June 1922

  Dearest Alix,

  Your postcard came this morning. It was exactly as I had conjured, your superb sanatorium. No it’s not true. I am NOT interested in the tubes, only you mustn’t take the breath out of my lungs by descriptions of operations which are not going to take place […]

  Oh! Alix dear, would you were in England now that Despair is here. Never, never have I been more wretched and less able to know the truth, or my mind or anybody’s mind. R now says I am so incorrigible in my lies, deceits and delusions, he will gladly pay for me to go to Freud to be cured. Lytton will give a rather cynical story I expect when he sees you in the Lakes. I am so worn out with scenes, explosions and tears that I can only give you the serial headings without comments. Only the bleakest serial sketch because I still doubt if anything is true or if I am capable of speaking the truth.

  At Watendlath perhaps you observed Gerald Brenan conceived a passion for me. It had started before Watendlath really. However we both knew it was hopeless because (a) I wasn’t in love with him and (b) because R would be in a state if we went to bed together. So nothing happened except embrassades. Then he went off to Spain and it all faded away. He admitted himself it faded rather when he left me, and he really only enjoyed writing me long letters and being friends.

  […] They [Ralph and Valentine] wanted to spend Whitsun at Tidmarsh. Annie was away. Pippa was coming and I honestly could not face cooking for 5 people for 3 days and having to see R making love under my nose […] Lytton was superb and tried to smooth it out. I am afraid he must have found it terribly boring and nervy work. I made a great many miscalculations and errors of course. Gerald went off to Spain and I am never to write or see him again. I didn’t care sufficiently to go off with him. I wish I could have to get away from it all. Lytton says R’s complex about my virtue is almost insane. It has made him dreadfully wretched and reduced him to a man of nerves. You of course, will be cynical and say ‘why do I put up with it?’ Well, I suppose it’s because I care a great deal more for living with Lytton and R and Tidmarsh, than I do for occasional affaires and Gerald’s friendship, and I really am very fond of R. Incidentally I must add I had begged Valentine never to tell R about this absurd affaire with G because it would so upset him, so she knew quite well what she was doing. I like to see other people live with honest relations to each other – this has reduced us all pretty completely. R now says he can’t face living with me at moments because I am such a fraud etc. Lytton thinks it will be alright in time … but that I mustn’t if I am going to live with R have any more affaires. As they were not even affaires, romances I suppose is the only word for this one and as I have had no others, it isn’t much of a sacrifice to give up this imaginary life of rouée. I am now feeling as you will see rather grim – I mean now to paint and become very serious. So perhaps the end of this rather wretched business will be I’ll paint and be some good as an artist. But it means Alix, unless the explosives become too much for me, I’ll not be able to come off to the Lakes to see you. It was always rather dim and now it’s dimmer. You must understand – should I get too much for R’s nerves and he for mine then I’ll fly to you in Italy … Lytton was an angel – my only support – really I could not have survived these scenes without him. But to you who haven’t seen or heard this, you must find it I suppose like every other domestic quarrel.

  Forgive this tedious letter but I want to tell you a little and I shall promise you if I am not happy I will come to you and James. I shall try and find you a cottage in Dorset, Devon or Cornwall for August. Lytton goes to Venice today so I feel rather sad. You mustn’t think I am in despair. It’s only I’ve been sleeping badly and feel rather ill and Lytton’s going makes it rather worse today. How I look forward to you two coming back to England.

  Bless you, my fondest love,

  Yr Carrington

  PS Only for you and James, this letter and don’t write back a hymn of hate against R. P. – in fact don’t mention it. But tell me about yourself.

  To Lytton Strachey

  The Mill House

  Friday afternoon, 23 June 1922

  Dearest Lytton,

  R came back last night. He was very friendly & did not talk about it anymore. I think he has almost over talked himself with Virginia & Leonard & he seemed pleased to be back here in the quiet Tidmarsh.

  I believe Valentine disappearing has made him more settled & calm. Anyhow whatever the reason it was all much more cheerful last night & he said this morning he would spend the weekend here instead of going to Virginia & Leonard at Rodmell as he had previously arranged to do […] Barbara comes tonight with Judith! Ugh! Almost a good thing as the ‘Baby remedy’ is gaining ground. Alan supports it. I say, give me one year to paint. If I’ve not reformed by then, or if I’ve not painted one decent picture I’ll give in … But I can’t see why plunging one into complete misery should make us both happier and who should know better than I, whether I like children or not?

  But I feel things aren’t worse. This morning he was far more cheerful. Slowly I understand a good deal … and frankly I don’t believe we’ll ever be happy again if he goes on with this friendship with V. She does belong to another world. I see it more & more & she will always ridicule me slightly to him now. She doesn’t want him to love me again. I believe she’d like him to be her lover, who at intervals in the year she could see … Rather as she keeps Gertler. Well I may be too gloomy about this side of it, [but] on the whole I don’t think I am […]

  […] I am trying to be good. And I don’t think I’ve been untruthful yet […] Darling Lytton you are my best friend, I realise that more and more. When you come back I will tell you a great
deal that I wanted to tell you before you went away, which because of many things I couldn’t manage to speak about.

  Bless you. I am much happier. Ralph grows I am sure less hostile to me […] no, I am not over cheerful I assure you […]

  Green peas from the garden & you are in Venice. UGH! My love to your patron saint. And burn a candle for me on the altar of the Lady of Pity.

  My love to you

  Your devoted Carrington

  Barbara sends her love.

  To Lytton Strachey

  The Mill House

  Tuesday [27 June 1922]

  Darling Lytton,

  The state of your patients? Monday was a black day. Even bright little Barbara collapsed under the gloom. He [Ralph] went off unhappy, and returned even more silent. He was friendly to Barbara, and markedly hostile I thought, to me, so all my feelings of thinking things were progressing fell with a thud. After dinner I went upstairs and painted as the light was still good and R went out for a walk with Barbara. Suddenly he came into my room after I had gone to bed and talked to me. I tried to tell him things he wanted to know and told him frankly of my affection for Gerald and what our relations had been. Ralph after this talk became infinitely happier and remained so this morning until he went off to London. Whether this change means anything, or not, it’s difficult to say, but I felt this morning he had shaken off something, perhaps his pride and that things were changed in a way they hadn’t been since the crash. I must tell you just these feelings because I know you care. Barbara is really very understanding and I think her calmness and simple affection has a wonderful influence. A sinister budget [a letter from Valentine] came from Paris this morning. So I said ‘wouldn’t it be a good thing not to read it until you get in the train.’ To my surprise he said ‘Yes I think it would’ and put it away in his case. Barbara thinks that once he gets fond of me again, and Tidmarsh, he will see things more in perspective and will turn against the ‘repeatings’ and intrigues. Anyhow today is happy and that is all one is certain about. Bless you. I forget when I last wrote. Did I tell you Alix and James wrote to me? There is real friendship! Their portraits will be framed and hung on the wall as the perfect example of ‘Good Friends’ […]

  Bless you my dearest my love and love to Sebastian.

  Yr Carrington

  To Lytton Strachey

  The Mill House

  Wednesday, 5 o’ck [12 July 1922]

  Darling Lytton,

  I do hope you’ll enjoy London very much, I miss you today … I do love being with you and it makes me happy in a very real way. I wish that I could forget everything. I try to, but some things it’s difficult to get over. It isn’t easy to lose a friend. I miss Gerald’s letters, and his friendship more than I ever thought in my wildest moments I should; and when one mustn’t talk of it, it keeps on tormenting one’s head. But I won’t talk of him because it only makes me remember him more; then, after all, no one else can mind except me. Only if I am grousy, and sullen you mustn’t think me altogether selfish. I’ve read The Watsons today with my meals. It wasn’t very good. But perhaps it was because it didn’t end and one felt rather angry at being defrauded.fn147

  I haven’t kept my Reform Bill. Today I’ve not yet, and it’s nearly 5 o’ck, painted a stroke. But there are two sweet boys mending something in the bath room, a senior builder forbade me to forth in any W. C. except the garden, the bricklayer crashed broken glass on the wall with all violence possible, 2 men repaired drains outside, Mrs Stiles whisked and broomed about inside, so I became restless and rushed off into the orchard and bashed and nailed away at the fence. Now it’s all repaired and set up again on its feet until the next storm. An organ grinder played this afternoon and brought melancholy to me. It plays the gayest of tunes but I always feel like crying when I hear it. It has played every afternoon that I have been particularly unhappy here. The day I wrote to you when you were in Florence and told you I should Marry R. The day I wrote my last letter to G and many other days, all black days. So today which was so lovely, and smelt so good, suddenly by an organ grinder made me all despair.

  […] Lytton dear, I loved my walk with you so much yesterday in the fields. You are more to me than I can ever express to you. I wish I could make you as happy as you can make me. I write in an absurd humour, so forgive the stupidity of this letter. My fondest love,

  Yr Mopsa

  To Lytton Strachey

  The Mill House

  Tuesday, 5 o’ck [25 September 1922]

  Darling Lytton,

  I am still at Tidmarsh, and you will read this in Berlin! You can’t think how sorry I am that we can’t be with you. You must forget nothing and you must come back laden with surprises: German sweets, post cards of Russian actresses, boots lined with fur, cigars for the Majora, and German picture books and honey cake! That is the most lovely cake in the world! Beg James to find you some. I felt very inadequate in my thanks this morning dear one. But you must know behind my trivial verses I meant a good deal. I knew how awful it would be, even for a few minutes last night facing that sort of conversation. But I am so glad you craved it. I almost thought that perhaps you thought I had been nonsensical to be so alarmed since when you talked to him you found him so calm. But you know he does change very rapidly, and partly because of my position, and partly because I dislike these scenes, I know and ask very little of his present feelings now, and of what has happened since she [Valentine] came back. But I do know a great deal of his past feelings, and her conduct. So my moments of alarm aren’t quite groundless. But Lytton how can I ever thank you for all your support and your conversation? When you are here a creeping paralysis seems to come over me and I can say nothing of what I feel. But when you leave me I want to rush after you and hug you for all your goodness. You are almost too good you know. Sometimes I feel almost embarrassed. You must always tell me if you aren’t quite happy, and if I could make anything more comfortable in any way. I think Ralph is immensely relieved at having talked to you. I think he felt there was rather a gulf growing up because she was never mentioned. And yet, up till now, I think he would have resented any approaches from you; I believe you chose the one and perfect moment to speak to him. Later perhaps he will be able to tell me more of his feelings. I am only so glad that you are happy. I rely so entirely on your judgement. I haven’t painted today as I am rather stuck until the chair arrives. So I tidied up my room, and arranged my paints and cleaned my palettes. It’s even a dirtier business than your book cleaning!

  I do hope you didn’t have a very ‘ruff’ crossing. It thundered here this afternoon. The house seemed very dismal and sad without you. No more jaunts when you come back. Promise? I hope Alix will come on Friday. Perhaps James will come down here with you and then will go back with Alix to Lord’s Wood the next day. Already I am making plans for your return you see. This is a stupid letter but I write very quickly to catch the post, only I felt you hardly knew how much I loved you this morning and I want you to know.

  Bless you und der gut Gott nach Du etwas sehen. Eure Liebe,fn148

  Mopsa

  By the autumn, Ralph’s time at the Hogarth Press was coming to an acrimonious end. His affair with Valentine petered out, but he continued to have other flings without a qualm while watching Carrington like a hawk. Gerald was back in Spain writing her immensely long mournful letters.

  To Noel Carrington

  The Mill House

  10 October 1922

  Dearest Noel,

  Your last letters gave us both great pain. For why should you also be plunged unto sad love affaires & why should you be so far removed from us that we cannot weep with you.

  No, but I am sorry you are sad & I hope soon the sorrow will be less acute […]

  Alix has been staying here a week whilst Lytton & her husband James were in Berlin. What arguments she & Rex had to be sure. Conception, conscience & objections to war. The ceiling almost fell, but we enjoyed her company. She talks a great deal about Freud & sex which is always
fascinating especially to R. P.. Lytton & James had a wonderful time in Berlin. They saw the Three Sisters by Tchekhov acted by the Moscow Art Theatre […] Why not have your holiday en route to England in Germany? The cheapness will not occur again in our lifetimes probably and the Germans are nice people. Margaret Waley spent her summer holiday there & enjoyed it tremendously.

  R’s career [at the Hogarth Press] is still in the balance. A House of Commons will sit on next Thursday to decide his fate.

  Mercifully he decides through thick & thin he will remain at Tidmarsh wiith Lytton & me & he refuses to live in London. I love the country so much I don’t feel I could face London again. One spends so much money in London & wastes so much time, & then the intrigues wear one’s spirits away.

  I am painting a portrait of R attired as a boxer, a most striking picture.

  But I fear I shall not carry it through, it’s becoming rather difficult to manage. The paint gets too thick & the colours dirty after one has worked at the picture for very long I find […]

  We do like your letters, so much. I feel in no good mood for writing letters this morning. Yesterday’s sweet calm seems to have vanished. But I hope it will return tomorrow when R comes back. He is away today in London & all tomorrow interviewing Leonard, another crisis, so I feel un peu grey until he returns with the verdicts. It really is extraordinary how complicated one finds life for no apparent reason, when everybody might be friends, love & share each other – everybody intrigues & fumes & continues to make everything difficile. One does it oneself in spite of all ones principles […]

  I am sorry you’ve been unhappy. The only mercy is one doesn’t remember every thing as acutely each day. They gradually fade away & one becomes cynical & hardened I suppose.

  My love

  Yr devoted D. C.

 

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