Stuart to Edith
Nov. 21 1917
Dearest,
I expect you will think I am a very unstable sort of person for in spite of what I said in my last note I feel just as unsettled as ever; I think I ought not to have asked the question I did until I had definitely made up my mind.
I want very much to tell you what I think and to know what you think about the future, and I wonder if I shall be able to tell you to-night. Perhaps not, so I will try to write.
It was quite true when I said I feel drawn towards the work I should do or try to do if I were ordained, but work of preaching the Gospel, but I see as I ponder over it, there are many ramifications involved and I doubt whether I should fit in. I wonder also if I tried to do all that I should feel I ought, how it would affect you and our home life, whether I should put work first and so far first as to hurt the home life.
It is very difficult to look at the problem from all sides, to sum up the position, and to make a decision. Perhaps what I said last week was the wisest plan, to let things work themselves out, and as Miss Packer says, give more attention to things of the present and attempt to do them more thoroughly and better.
What do you think? Am I a fit and proper person to undertake this great and important work? Or, do you think I ought to continue in my present position, into which I was thrown as some would say by chance, but let us say, by the hand of Providence and where I have remained, in spite of efforts to get out, and have been extremely successful.
Nov 22, 1917.
Well, I was able to tell you something of what was in my mind, and right glad I am that I was; it is nicer to talk than to write and although it is difficult to talk on these subjects which go deep, yet I am going to try to make myself.
The previous part of this note will show you that I was very doubtful and you have no cause to mentally chastise yourself, as I am afraid you will, for having told me your opinion and offered your advice.
Belovéd, I always want your advice and opinion. You can see the matter from a viewpoint other than mine and by telling me what you think, I shall be getting a truer view. If you knew the innumerable mistakes I have made because I have had no one to whom to turn for sound advice, you would understand more of what your help really means.
It makes me feel very excited, Sweetheart, as I look ahead, as to what lies before us if I do stick to the Press. As I lay in bed last night, I was thinking and it seems our minimum time of waiting is some 3½ years and then --- As I said before I hardly dare think.
Now, Goodbye, my Belovéd. I wish I could find words to express all that you mean to me, to tell you how you have made me better in many ways and have given me happier and better thoughts; and now you are becoming just what I had hoped – my help-mate.
Please allow me to do what I want to sometimes, for you are to me all that is good and pure and holy. You are my Queen, I reverence you, and you must please allow me to pay homage sometimes.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Saturday, 10 October 2009
Friday, 9 October 2009
20 November 1917 Stuart to Edith - Letter #29
Stuart to Edith
Nov. 20 1917
My Best Belovéd,
It must be quite short this morning and before I begin what I “drafted” I must just say that you do not hurt me as you suppose, because I know that you love me, and anything which might hurt is simply forgotten in that overwhelming knowledge.
Now that I have done as I proposed and made a preliminary draft, I hope you will find this note a good deal better than some I have scribbled to you without giving them the thought and care which I ought to have done. Perhaps some have hurt because of the undeveloped thoughts or at least put crudely, but I will try to think first and write afterward, and so possibly save you the pain you know I would save you if I could.
I have been thinking again about the future, not only ours, but also my own and I have been trying to see what I ought to do. I think that after all I shall have to make every effort to be ordained; it seems to me to be the thing I ought to do; and what I feel I could do best is the work of some country district or may be in the slums, where one would not enter into the controversies so often met in locons, for which I am not capable, but where one could teach the simple truths of Christianity.
One thing, however, is not quite clear to me and I hope I shall not hurt you by asking a plain question. Are you with me in this? are you drawn to such work as I feel myself drawn, and do you think you could partner me in it. This is very important to me, but one which you perhaps think I ought to be able to answer myself, but I don’t know you yet; there are many depths I have not probed, but which no doubt I shall learn of later, as I realize more of the beauty and strength of your character and love.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Nov. 20 1917
My Best Belovéd,
It must be quite short this morning and before I begin what I “drafted” I must just say that you do not hurt me as you suppose, because I know that you love me, and anything which might hurt is simply forgotten in that overwhelming knowledge.
Now that I have done as I proposed and made a preliminary draft, I hope you will find this note a good deal better than some I have scribbled to you without giving them the thought and care which I ought to have done. Perhaps some have hurt because of the undeveloped thoughts or at least put crudely, but I will try to think first and write afterward, and so possibly save you the pain you know I would save you if I could.
I have been thinking again about the future, not only ours, but also my own and I have been trying to see what I ought to do. I think that after all I shall have to make every effort to be ordained; it seems to me to be the thing I ought to do; and what I feel I could do best is the work of some country district or may be in the slums, where one would not enter into the controversies so often met in locons, for which I am not capable, but where one could teach the simple truths of Christianity.
One thing, however, is not quite clear to me and I hope I shall not hurt you by asking a plain question. Are you with me in this? are you drawn to such work as I feel myself drawn, and do you think you could partner me in it. This is very important to me, but one which you perhaps think I ought to be able to answer myself, but I don’t know you yet; there are many depths I have not probed, but which no doubt I shall learn of later, as I realize more of the beauty and strength of your character and love.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Thursday, 8 October 2009
19 November 1917 Edith to Stuart - Letter #28
Edith to Stuart
19.11.17
My Dearest,
I am afraid I hurt you terribly last night, and not only terribly, but most unjustly. I tried to tell you that when I am hurt, it is my own fault. You see, a woman notices such tiny little things, and makes them into great ones, instead of taking no notice at all. Then, in a little while, something comes out, and she sees the reason for the action, or word, which did not please her, and then she is angry with herself for being so blind, so stupid. I am not even a woman yet, so I am more foolish still. You must try to forget what I said, Dearest, at any rate, forgive me for saying it.
I know that you would not do anything to hurt if you could possibly avoid it, and that only shows again that it is absolutely my own fault. So you see I cannot make the promise you want me to make, because when I think a bit I find there is nothing in the things I make so much of. Dearest, I am afraid I am rambling on again, and you won’t be able to understand a word of this. It is always the case when I have something I especially want to say. I wish, as you did last night, that you could get inside me, and then you would know what is there. Perhaps you will some day. At any rate I hope so.
Now, just one serious question. How many times have I hurt you? I am afraid you will not be able to answer that question, because I must have hurt you so often. I wanted to ask you many times last night, but somehow, it would not come.
Now, Good-night, my Dearest. Don’t think about the stupid, thoughtless things I say. Let them pass, if you can; or, if not, just think, “She’s doing her best to be better. I must wait patiently until she is better”.
Goodnight, Belovéd, Goodnight.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
19.11.17
My Dearest,
I am afraid I hurt you terribly last night, and not only terribly, but most unjustly. I tried to tell you that when I am hurt, it is my own fault. You see, a woman notices such tiny little things, and makes them into great ones, instead of taking no notice at all. Then, in a little while, something comes out, and she sees the reason for the action, or word, which did not please her, and then she is angry with herself for being so blind, so stupid. I am not even a woman yet, so I am more foolish still. You must try to forget what I said, Dearest, at any rate, forgive me for saying it.
I know that you would not do anything to hurt if you could possibly avoid it, and that only shows again that it is absolutely my own fault. So you see I cannot make the promise you want me to make, because when I think a bit I find there is nothing in the things I make so much of. Dearest, I am afraid I am rambling on again, and you won’t be able to understand a word of this. It is always the case when I have something I especially want to say. I wish, as you did last night, that you could get inside me, and then you would know what is there. Perhaps you will some day. At any rate I hope so.
Now, just one serious question. How many times have I hurt you? I am afraid you will not be able to answer that question, because I must have hurt you so often. I wanted to ask you many times last night, but somehow, it would not come.
Now, Good-night, my Dearest. Don’t think about the stupid, thoughtless things I say. Let them pass, if you can; or, if not, just think, “She’s doing her best to be better. I must wait patiently until she is better”.
Goodnight, Belovéd, Goodnight.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Wednesday, 7 October 2009
19 November 1917 Stuart to Edith - Letter #27
Stuart to Edith
Nov. 19 1917
Belovéd,
I wish I could write to you the letters I should like to write, or that I could express the thoughts which are so often in my mind, but above them all there predominates this one of “I love you” and yet words seem quite inadequate to express all that I feel and would say. I wish that I could show you more by my actions, all that you mean to me, how you have brought happiness to me, and a happiness which is daily increasing.
I am very sorry, my Dearest, that I hurt you at times; I was afraid you would very quickly find I was not the ideal you imagined me, I fear I am thoughtless and somewhat selfish and self-centred; I know that you forgive and I want you to help me to be better. I feel that you are so far above me in many ways and especially in the greatest of all, in character. You are to me, in spite of what you say to the contrary, all that is pure and noble and beautiful, and although perhaps you would not think it from my action, I might say I almost reverence you (I don’t think the word is too strong).
My life is, I am afraid, lived amongst people to whom the great and noble things of life mean little, their main object seems to make money not for themselves, ‘tis true, but I think this cannot but have a lowering influence; please help me with all your beautiful and noble thoughts and influences to come up higher.
I demand many things of you, don’t I? and offer little in return, but perhaps it will be to our mutual advantage. I look forward to those days when we shall be together, when our aims and thoughts shall be one, when we shall be in truth, and not only in words, “partners”.
I look forward, but I hardly dare think of those times; they seems too good, too ideal, and seem to take my breath away, but that they will come I have little doubt. I hope that, whatever the future may be and wherever it may be spent, I shall prove worthy of that confidence which you expressed in one of your notes; I have a long way to go, but please be patient with me; for I am trying my hardest to get up.
Now, Goodbye, Belovéd, never let me hurt you, if it is avoidable, and keep on helping me to be worthy of you, you Noble and Best of Women.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Nov. 19 1917
Belovéd,
I wish I could write to you the letters I should like to write, or that I could express the thoughts which are so often in my mind, but above them all there predominates this one of “I love you” and yet words seem quite inadequate to express all that I feel and would say. I wish that I could show you more by my actions, all that you mean to me, how you have brought happiness to me, and a happiness which is daily increasing.
I am very sorry, my Dearest, that I hurt you at times; I was afraid you would very quickly find I was not the ideal you imagined me, I fear I am thoughtless and somewhat selfish and self-centred; I know that you forgive and I want you to help me to be better. I feel that you are so far above me in many ways and especially in the greatest of all, in character. You are to me, in spite of what you say to the contrary, all that is pure and noble and beautiful, and although perhaps you would not think it from my action, I might say I almost reverence you (I don’t think the word is too strong).
My life is, I am afraid, lived amongst people to whom the great and noble things of life mean little, their main object seems to make money not for themselves, ‘tis true, but I think this cannot but have a lowering influence; please help me with all your beautiful and noble thoughts and influences to come up higher.
I demand many things of you, don’t I? and offer little in return, but perhaps it will be to our mutual advantage. I look forward to those days when we shall be together, when our aims and thoughts shall be one, when we shall be in truth, and not only in words, “partners”.
I look forward, but I hardly dare think of those times; they seems too good, too ideal, and seem to take my breath away, but that they will come I have little doubt. I hope that, whatever the future may be and wherever it may be spent, I shall prove worthy of that confidence which you expressed in one of your notes; I have a long way to go, but please be patient with me; for I am trying my hardest to get up.
Now, Goodbye, Belovéd, never let me hurt you, if it is avoidable, and keep on helping me to be worthy of you, you Noble and Best of Women.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Tuesday, 6 October 2009
15 November 1917 Edith to Stuart - Letter #26
Edith to Stuart
15.11.17
My Belovéd
You must have misunderstood me last night, when I told you that your story hurt. It was not for myself that I was pained, but for you. Try to imagine how you would have felt if I had told that story to you. Would you not have been sorry? Would you not have wished that you had been near, to help me bear the heavy burden that had been laid upon me? Even when I told you that I was not happy at school, you were troubled, you sympathised; and that is as nothing compared to what you told me last night. You made me feel that it is time you began to live, not in the ordinary sense of the word, but in its real sense. You have had enough of Sorrow, now life should only mean Joy to you; and I wish with all my heart that I could put an end to your old life today, and that tomorrow, we could set out together on that new life, to which we look forward with such great expectations. But as that cannot be, we must do our best with the opportunities that we have and try to make life pleasant, in fact, really happy.
You said, last night, that you thought you ought to have told me before, I am sure you were quite right in not doing so. Suppose that on that Wednesday evening, the first Wednesday evening, you had told me your story before you told me --- the rest. I already knew that your life had not been a happy one, and I wanted to do all I could to make it happier in the future. So that it would have been very difficult to say “No”, to you, even had I wanted to. And, don’t you see, that if you had told your story first, it would have been still harder to say “No”. There would have been a feeling that I ought not to add one more sorry to your already heavy burden. On the other hand, as I was prepared to say, “Yes”, your story could not have made the least difference to me, in that way. Now, I wonder if I have made this quite clear, or if it is as badly expressed as some other things I have tried to say. At any rate, I must stop now. I hope you will understand and that you will be able to read this bad writing.
Now, Good-night, my Belovéd, and Good-bye. May God soon send to you the great Joy which I feel sure is waiting for your --- somewhere. Good-night.
Lord, when on my bed I lie,
Sleepless, unto thee I’ll cry;
When my brain works overmuch,
Stay the wheels with thy soft touch.
Just a quiet thought of Thee,
And of Thy sweet Charity, --
Just a little prayer, and then
I will turn to sleep again.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
15.11.17
My Belovéd
You must have misunderstood me last night, when I told you that your story hurt. It was not for myself that I was pained, but for you. Try to imagine how you would have felt if I had told that story to you. Would you not have been sorry? Would you not have wished that you had been near, to help me bear the heavy burden that had been laid upon me? Even when I told you that I was not happy at school, you were troubled, you sympathised; and that is as nothing compared to what you told me last night. You made me feel that it is time you began to live, not in the ordinary sense of the word, but in its real sense. You have had enough of Sorrow, now life should only mean Joy to you; and I wish with all my heart that I could put an end to your old life today, and that tomorrow, we could set out together on that new life, to which we look forward with such great expectations. But as that cannot be, we must do our best with the opportunities that we have and try to make life pleasant, in fact, really happy.
You said, last night, that you thought you ought to have told me before, I am sure you were quite right in not doing so. Suppose that on that Wednesday evening, the first Wednesday evening, you had told me your story before you told me --- the rest. I already knew that your life had not been a happy one, and I wanted to do all I could to make it happier in the future. So that it would have been very difficult to say “No”, to you, even had I wanted to. And, don’t you see, that if you had told your story first, it would have been still harder to say “No”. There would have been a feeling that I ought not to add one more sorry to your already heavy burden. On the other hand, as I was prepared to say, “Yes”, your story could not have made the least difference to me, in that way. Now, I wonder if I have made this quite clear, or if it is as badly expressed as some other things I have tried to say. At any rate, I must stop now. I hope you will understand and that you will be able to read this bad writing.
Now, Good-night, my Belovéd, and Good-bye. May God soon send to you the great Joy which I feel sure is waiting for your --- somewhere. Good-night.
Lord, when on my bed I lie,
Sleepless, unto thee I’ll cry;
When my brain works overmuch,
Stay the wheels with thy soft touch.
Just a quiet thought of Thee,
And of Thy sweet Charity, --
Just a little prayer, and then
I will turn to sleep again.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Monday, 5 October 2009
15 November 1917 Stuart to Edith - Lettter #25
Stuart to Edith
Nov. 15 1917
Best Belovéd,
I have been turning over in my mind the story I told last evening and as I thought about it, it seemed to me it must have been very painful to you to hear such a story of shame and disgrace; I would that it were not true and that, for your sake, the past were unstained and unspotted, but painful though it was, my Dearest, I think it was right that you should know; and as I said last night, I wonder whether you ought to have known earlier, or at least whether I ought perhaps to have told your parents. I don’t think it would have made any difference, with you I know it would not, but it would with some people.
As to Saturday, I shall not be a little bit disappointed if we cannot go to Witney. I know you would not put it off if it could be helped, and if the cause is what I think it is, you are right in doing nothing which might be harmful to you; you know, don’t you, Belovéd, that that would hurt me too.
Time is gone, but I hope you were not very disturbed; it is after all the past, and it is all over; let us look forward to what the future holds in store, we have a long way to go yet, I hope and may all that way be happy for us.
Now, Goodbye, Belovéd, do not be hurt, for I love you, I love you, I LOVE YOU.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Nov. 15 1917
Best Belovéd,
I have been turning over in my mind the story I told last evening and as I thought about it, it seemed to me it must have been very painful to you to hear such a story of shame and disgrace; I would that it were not true and that, for your sake, the past were unstained and unspotted, but painful though it was, my Dearest, I think it was right that you should know; and as I said last night, I wonder whether you ought to have known earlier, or at least whether I ought perhaps to have told your parents. I don’t think it would have made any difference, with you I know it would not, but it would with some people.
As to Saturday, I shall not be a little bit disappointed if we cannot go to Witney. I know you would not put it off if it could be helped, and if the cause is what I think it is, you are right in doing nothing which might be harmful to you; you know, don’t you, Belovéd, that that would hurt me too.
Time is gone, but I hope you were not very disturbed; it is after all the past, and it is all over; let us look forward to what the future holds in store, we have a long way to go yet, I hope and may all that way be happy for us.
Now, Goodbye, Belovéd, do not be hurt, for I love you, I love you, I LOVE YOU.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Sunday, 4 October 2009
13 November 1917 Edith to Stuart - Letter #24
Edith to Stuart
13.11.17
My Dearest,
This must be the very briefest of notes, because time is short. Thank you very much for yours last night. I think I must have found it as soon as you put it in.
There is just one thing I want to say this morning, and then I must stop. Dearest, will you please not be very disappointed if I cannot come to Witney on Saturday. I hope I shall be able to, because I am looking forward to it so much. But you remember once before we arranged to go for a ride, and at the last moment, I could not come. I did not even know when I saw you in the morning that I should not be able to. You were very good then, and that was a long time ago. So I am hoping, in fact, I know, that you will forgive me if the same sort of thing happens again.
Now I cannot write any more, but I will write a long epistle this evening.
Goodbye, my Belovéd, Good-bye.
Two hands upon the breast, and labour’s done;
Two pale feet crossed in rest, the race is won;
Two eyes with coin-weights shut, all tears ease;
Two lips where grief is mute, and wrath at peace;
So pray we often-times, mourning our lot;
God, in His kindness, answereth not.
Two hands to work addressed, ay, for his praise;
Two feet that never rest, walking his ways;
Two eyes that look above, still, through all tears;
Two lips that breathe but love, never more fears;
So we cry afterward, low at our knees;
Pardon those erring cries, Father, hear these.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
13.11.17
My Dearest,
This must be the very briefest of notes, because time is short. Thank you very much for yours last night. I think I must have found it as soon as you put it in.
There is just one thing I want to say this morning, and then I must stop. Dearest, will you please not be very disappointed if I cannot come to Witney on Saturday. I hope I shall be able to, because I am looking forward to it so much. But you remember once before we arranged to go for a ride, and at the last moment, I could not come. I did not even know when I saw you in the morning that I should not be able to. You were very good then, and that was a long time ago. So I am hoping, in fact, I know, that you will forgive me if the same sort of thing happens again.
Now I cannot write any more, but I will write a long epistle this evening.
Goodbye, my Belovéd, Good-bye.
Two hands upon the breast, and labour’s done;
Two pale feet crossed in rest, the race is won;
Two eyes with coin-weights shut, all tears ease;
Two lips where grief is mute, and wrath at peace;
So pray we often-times, mourning our lot;
God, in His kindness, answereth not.
Two hands to work addressed, ay, for his praise;
Two feet that never rest, walking his ways;
Two eyes that look above, still, through all tears;
Two lips that breathe but love, never more fears;
So we cry afterward, low at our knees;
Pardon those erring cries, Father, hear these.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
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