Edith to Stuart
19.12.17
My Belovéd,
Your note last night was just lovely, and thank you ever so much for it. I was particularly glad to read what you said about “all in all”, because several times I have been afraid that I did not come up to Harold’s picture. I don’t now believe that I do really, but I am glad you think I do, and I am trying the best I can.
I must go on with this in pencil, so please excuse it, for I cannot help it.
I was glad to read, too, that you liked the idea of polished floors, I was afraid that, perhaps, your great ambition, like my Dad’s, was to have a mice, thick carpet on your floor. I know Dad has wanted one for a long time, and I hope he is satisfied now that he has it. But I know that polished floors are the cleanest you can possibly have, and I should think they are cheaper than linoleum or carpet. I am only afraid that perhaps there is some difficulty in keeping them nice, as so few people go in for them. But they did not seem to be any trouble at school. At any rate, we can try, can’t we, Belovéd, and if our plans don’t answer well when carried out, we must just alter them till we find The Best Way. So much for the floors in our Home Beautiful. Next come the walls, and I will tell you what has always been my greatest ambition in that way, although I should think it is not often practicable except in one’s very own house. I should like, best of all, to have nice, clean, distempered, walls that can be washed. Failing this, I would have plain wall-papers, or papers with only very small patterns on them. I don’t know whether you have ever worried out problems in geometry on the wall-paper while you have been lying in bed. I have, and sometimes it is worse than nightmare. So – no large patterned papers in our Home Beautiful.
I hope, Dearest, I don’t frighten you when I write like this, you know, Mother says I shall want £1,000 a year, or something like it, to keep up my home. I expect I should, if it were really my Ideal Home. But I hope I am sensible enough to realise that I can not have all I want, nor, in fact, a great deal that I want. I don’t see that there is any harm in dreaming of these things, providing one can be content without them, and I think I can be, provided I have – you.
So, Dearest, I shall go on dreaming, and building up and Ideal Home in my imagination, just as a sort of picture which I shall do my best to copy. I will show you as much as I can of my picture, and you must show me as much as you can of yours, and then we must combine the two and – build.
Now I must say Goodnight and Goodbye. What you tell me about your supper, and the supper-thing and everything, makes me long more and more for our “Someday”. Still, I know you make the best of it, but I wish I could help you, so that the best might be a good deal better. “Carry on” for a little while, and then we shall be together, always.
Goodnight, Belovéd, Goodnight.
The Little Poem of Life
I:-
Thou:-
We:-
They:-
Small words, but mighty.
In their span
Are bound the life and hopes of man.
For first, his thoughts of his own self are full;
Until another comes, his heart to rule.
For them, life’s best is centred round their love;
Till younger lives come, all their love to prove.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Showing posts with label Oxford University Press. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Oxford University Press. Show all posts
Sunday, 20 December 2009
Wednesday, 2 December 2009
18 December 1917 Stuart to Edith - Letter #53
Stuart to Edith
Dec. 18 1917
Sweetheart,
I don’t think that this is going to be a proper note; it may turn out to be, but it doesn’t feel so now. I want to tell you something which will not keep. You remember the letters I showed you that Harold wrote to me in the summer when he said “Get a girl” and what I should find; you remember what he said in his congratulatory letter, when you said I did not experience all that he said, I want to tell you just this; his words did not express one half of what I have found; you fill up all that wants filling up, you have turned life from a grey affair into happiness and strength; in fact, I could write many things but perhaps I may quote from those letters and say that in the best sense you are all in all.
Your ideas of the Home Beautiful show these things more and more; your ideas are beautiful and I know the results will be. They are just what I should like and I might go one further step and say that in addition to dark polished floors, I should like dark furniture, those round oak tables, in fact many of such things are as to be seen in your favourite shop, Baker’s. I think when the time comes you and I shall have to go there together and choose what we should like, but that must wait, although there is no reason why we should not put our dreams into some sort of tangible shape.
Dearest, I shall not attempt too many things, so do not worry about expressing your ideas of the perfect home. It is my duty both to country and family to garden now, and if as I do it, I think I am doing it to help you, to help us in our aims, it will make it pleasanter and I think I shall do it better. For the present, I think I can do little more, so I shall not attempt to fill any of those parts which you suggest.
I am pleased to have you say that you do find me affectionate; it may be Gladys did not, because she repulsed me. I hope you will always find me so, and as I said on Sunday, I hope we shall be “Sweethearts” “till death do us part”.
Goodbye, Belovéd, my Best of Women, how you conjure up happy thoughts of the days when the night will not end with Goodbye. I fear sometimes I am very very unworthy of you, your love and all your nobility, but I feel I am getting higher, and it is you who have raised.
Once more Goodbye and Goodnight; try to imagine I have said it as when I am with you and sleep and dream happily, Belovéd, the Best of All Women.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Dec. 18 1917
Sweetheart,
I don’t think that this is going to be a proper note; it may turn out to be, but it doesn’t feel so now. I want to tell you something which will not keep. You remember the letters I showed you that Harold wrote to me in the summer when he said “Get a girl” and what I should find; you remember what he said in his congratulatory letter, when you said I did not experience all that he said, I want to tell you just this; his words did not express one half of what I have found; you fill up all that wants filling up, you have turned life from a grey affair into happiness and strength; in fact, I could write many things but perhaps I may quote from those letters and say that in the best sense you are all in all.
Your ideas of the Home Beautiful show these things more and more; your ideas are beautiful and I know the results will be. They are just what I should like and I might go one further step and say that in addition to dark polished floors, I should like dark furniture, those round oak tables, in fact many of such things are as to be seen in your favourite shop, Baker’s. I think when the time comes you and I shall have to go there together and choose what we should like, but that must wait, although there is no reason why we should not put our dreams into some sort of tangible shape.
Dearest, I shall not attempt too many things, so do not worry about expressing your ideas of the perfect home. It is my duty both to country and family to garden now, and if as I do it, I think I am doing it to help you, to help us in our aims, it will make it pleasanter and I think I shall do it better. For the present, I think I can do little more, so I shall not attempt to fill any of those parts which you suggest.
I am pleased to have you say that you do find me affectionate; it may be Gladys did not, because she repulsed me. I hope you will always find me so, and as I said on Sunday, I hope we shall be “Sweethearts” “till death do us part”.
Goodbye, Belovéd, my Best of Women, how you conjure up happy thoughts of the days when the night will not end with Goodbye. I fear sometimes I am very very unworthy of you, your love and all your nobility, but I feel I am getting higher, and it is you who have raised.
Once more Goodbye and Goodnight; try to imagine I have said it as when I am with you and sleep and dream happily, Belovéd, the Best of All Women.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Sunday, 22 November 2009
17 December 1917 Edith to Stuart - Letter #52
Edith to Stuart
17.12.17
My Belovéd,
You were pleased withy my last note, and I hope you will be with this one, - but I don’t know. I like what you said about the garden, but you must not turn gardener just because I want a garden. If you take that line, you may feel it necessary to become paper-hanger, carpenter, house decorator, sanitary-inspector, and several other things. Besides, I shall not like to tell you all the things I think about, for fear you will seriously consider putting them into effect at once. They are only ideas, and may possibly give place to far different ones in time. I did not wish to imply that I wanted an elaborate garden, in fact, I think a wild sort of one is much nice, provided the weeds are kept under. Here’s another little poetry piece about a garden:-
“See this my garden
Large and fair!”
Thus, to his friend,
The Philosopher.
“’Tis not too long,”
His friend replied,
With truth exact, -
“Nor get too wide.
But well compact,
If somewhat cramped
On every side.”
Quick the reply –
“But see how high! –
It reaches up
To God’s blue sky!”
Not by their size
Measure we men
Or things.
Wisdom, with eyes
Washed in the fire,
Seeketh the things
That are higher –
Things that have wings,
Thoughts that aspire.
You see, Dearest, however small our garden is, it will reach up to the sky, and God will reach down to our garden.
Now, you want something about the inside of the Home Beautiful, don’t you, Belovéd? But, please, before I go on, promise me one thing, - If there is anything you do not like, or with which you disagree, you will tell me; - because it is our Home we are building, and it must satisfy us both.
There are several ideals which I have at the back of my head when I think of the inside of our Home, but I think the chief ones are Beauty, Cleanliness, and Comfort first, because it depends on the other two. Beauty is hard to write about, hard to talk about, you can only see it, and feel it. That is why it must be difficult to furnish a house will, for until you see an article in the place it is to occupy, you cannot tell whether it satisfies your sense of the beautiful or not. I have often been disappointed in this way, - after, too, surprised by the way in which the queerest things “fit in”. But about the Cleanliness, I could write pages. I do not mean the cleanliness with which most people are content, but Cleanliness with a capital C, like you have in hospitals, no a speck of dirt anywhere. I wonder if you understand all that that means. It means that there must be no carpets, for how can anybody clean a carpet, no furry, woolly rugs, no dark covers of any kind, in fact no dirt collectors at all. Do you think it will be like a barn? Listen! This is what I thought about the floor for our sitting room, and for our bed-room – polished floors all over, with two or three rugs like I’ve seen in a book. They are nice and woolly-like, with pretty patterns on (one I saw had a picture of three dogs running away with three bones, - that was not pretty, but funny), but they are made of cotton, and can be washed. Do you like this. If not, please, please say so, and tell me what you would like.
I have not written much, but is time to stop. I wish I could go on, there’s such a lot more. But, one day, Dearest, you will see the real thing – all that we have planned, and dreamed of, and worked for, and you will be the King of it all.
Goodbye, my Dearest, my King of Men. When that time comes I shall not say “Goodbye”, but only – Good-night.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
17.12.17
My Belovéd,
You were pleased withy my last note, and I hope you will be with this one, - but I don’t know. I like what you said about the garden, but you must not turn gardener just because I want a garden. If you take that line, you may feel it necessary to become paper-hanger, carpenter, house decorator, sanitary-inspector, and several other things. Besides, I shall not like to tell you all the things I think about, for fear you will seriously consider putting them into effect at once. They are only ideas, and may possibly give place to far different ones in time. I did not wish to imply that I wanted an elaborate garden, in fact, I think a wild sort of one is much nice, provided the weeds are kept under. Here’s another little poetry piece about a garden:-
“See this my garden
Large and fair!”
Thus, to his friend,
The Philosopher.
“’Tis not too long,”
His friend replied,
With truth exact, -
“Nor get too wide.
But well compact,
If somewhat cramped
On every side.”
Quick the reply –
“But see how high! –
It reaches up
To God’s blue sky!”
Not by their size
Measure we men
Or things.
Wisdom, with eyes
Washed in the fire,
Seeketh the things
That are higher –
Things that have wings,
Thoughts that aspire.
You see, Dearest, however small our garden is, it will reach up to the sky, and God will reach down to our garden.
Now, you want something about the inside of the Home Beautiful, don’t you, Belovéd? But, please, before I go on, promise me one thing, - If there is anything you do not like, or with which you disagree, you will tell me; - because it is our Home we are building, and it must satisfy us both.
There are several ideals which I have at the back of my head when I think of the inside of our Home, but I think the chief ones are Beauty, Cleanliness, and Comfort first, because it depends on the other two. Beauty is hard to write about, hard to talk about, you can only see it, and feel it. That is why it must be difficult to furnish a house will, for until you see an article in the place it is to occupy, you cannot tell whether it satisfies your sense of the beautiful or not. I have often been disappointed in this way, - after, too, surprised by the way in which the queerest things “fit in”. But about the Cleanliness, I could write pages. I do not mean the cleanliness with which most people are content, but Cleanliness with a capital C, like you have in hospitals, no a speck of dirt anywhere. I wonder if you understand all that that means. It means that there must be no carpets, for how can anybody clean a carpet, no furry, woolly rugs, no dark covers of any kind, in fact no dirt collectors at all. Do you think it will be like a barn? Listen! This is what I thought about the floor for our sitting room, and for our bed-room – polished floors all over, with two or three rugs like I’ve seen in a book. They are nice and woolly-like, with pretty patterns on (one I saw had a picture of three dogs running away with three bones, - that was not pretty, but funny), but they are made of cotton, and can be washed. Do you like this. If not, please, please say so, and tell me what you would like.
I have not written much, but is time to stop. I wish I could go on, there’s such a lot more. But, one day, Dearest, you will see the real thing – all that we have planned, and dreamed of, and worked for, and you will be the King of it all.
Goodbye, my Dearest, my King of Men. When that time comes I shall not say “Goodbye”, but only – Good-night.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Sunday, 15 November 2009
15 December 1917 Stuart to Edith - Letter #51
Stuart to Edith
Dec. 15 1917
Sweetheart,
I am very sorry I interrupted you in the writing of that last letter for it was one of the best. What it would have been had you really finished it I can hardly imagine, for as it was, it was a gem.
It helped me to see something that I can do to prepare for the days to come; I must learn to be a gardener. I have said I dislike it, I do, there seems so many other ways, better and more congenial, of spending time; I think, however, that as now my mind turns to Home-building, I must do what I can and I shall try in the limited time at my disposal to learn to do that which will give us what we both desire “The home Beautiful”. It seems to me, although I have not given it very much thought, that a garden is required for that outside beauty and possibly vegetable as well as flower garden. Perhaps next year, if my funds allow it, I may be able to combine the two on my allotment and when I have more time, increase my piece of cultivated ground. I may too, be able to do something at home and you will then be able to see what efforts I am making and what good may or may not result. As you prophesy, it may mean giving up some of our pleasant times, but you and I will, next summer, be on a footing different from that on which we were this year. You dream great dreams too, of the future home. No, I hope we shall not live alone always, and I hope that those children will not find me, as my brother and sister seem to have, one to be feared.
I have spent a happy evening yesterday and a happy day to-day. I could not but think, as we sat quietly at work last night, of Gladys and of how I bored her; I need not ask if I bored you. It was to me a further testimony of the depth, purity, and reality of our mutual love that we could spend a short time in such a way, and a happiness in that I found time could be spent happily like that, for, I suppose it will often happen, if our dreams come true, that evenings, many evenings will be spent in a similar way. The last few minutes were of course the best of all, but I think we should have marred the evening and its perfection if you had agreed to my other suggestion. I don’t know what or why it is, but there seems some blemish in it.
To-day too, has been very, very nice; there seemed to me to be a further help in the relationships between us; I hardly know what to call it and the best word I can think if is “camaraderie”. We seemed to talk more freely and you I thought, unburdened yourself more easily; was it imagination? And after we got home; those few minutes with you leaning on my shoulder and standing by me as I read, seemed just Perfection. I wonder if you knew or guessed how very much I then wanted to kiss you, my Dearest. Thank you for those words you showed to me; they were meant to cheer and help, were they not?
Although I sometimes feel that I have failed to create the home atmosphere I should have wished, I feel that it is not all my own fault and that really my opportunities have been few. After all, I have tried, but the forces against me have, at least for the time, prevailed, and it remains to be seen if ever it is, whether my efforts bear fruit here. Whatever happens, I shall have more experience for the time when you and I go home building.
That thought clings to me like a limpet and I have found it helps very much. It helps me to look forward happily to those days we hope to spend together, it helps me to bear the inconveniences and unpleasantnesses I must at home. I just won’t see more than I can help but look forward.
You half-reproached me once for not looking and being happy. Is there any improvement? If so, it is due to you; and although perhaps modesty will bid you deny it. I think common-sense will affirm it; for what else have I here to make me happy, if it is not you, my Best of Women?
As I think, comparing ourselves with others, I do not see how two could be happier together than we are and hope to be and as I form the best judgement I can of our characters it seems to me that we have between us, many of the qualities which go towards the making of a perfect Home.
A perfect home! – that is what I dream of so often. I want to do my share in the building of it and I want in the preparation time, to get ready for it, and so I am going to try to follow out the inspiration which you gave to me and endeavour to be a gardener, and one other thing, which is my independent idea although you agree with me, and that is to read the best of books, which, I agree, help one to live the highest life.
I must say Goodbye, my Dearest, my really Sweetheart, you who we hope will one day be – My Wife, for it is 12.20 a.m. It is very late, but you must forgive me; I wanted to write a long note without any restrictions of time and Gladys did not go to bed till 11.15, since when I have been writing, but must now stop.
Goodbye, Belovéd, goodbye, I wish I could write some nice things such as you will read in “Walter Greenaway” but although I cannot say it so nicely, you are to me all that is beautiful, pure, and good, you are to me My Perfect Woman.
Once more Goodbye, may God indeed be with you and may He grant us that happiness we so earnestly desire.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Dec. 15 1917
Sweetheart,
I am very sorry I interrupted you in the writing of that last letter for it was one of the best. What it would have been had you really finished it I can hardly imagine, for as it was, it was a gem.
It helped me to see something that I can do to prepare for the days to come; I must learn to be a gardener. I have said I dislike it, I do, there seems so many other ways, better and more congenial, of spending time; I think, however, that as now my mind turns to Home-building, I must do what I can and I shall try in the limited time at my disposal to learn to do that which will give us what we both desire “The home Beautiful”. It seems to me, although I have not given it very much thought, that a garden is required for that outside beauty and possibly vegetable as well as flower garden. Perhaps next year, if my funds allow it, I may be able to combine the two on my allotment and when I have more time, increase my piece of cultivated ground. I may too, be able to do something at home and you will then be able to see what efforts I am making and what good may or may not result. As you prophesy, it may mean giving up some of our pleasant times, but you and I will, next summer, be on a footing different from that on which we were this year. You dream great dreams too, of the future home. No, I hope we shall not live alone always, and I hope that those children will not find me, as my brother and sister seem to have, one to be feared.
I have spent a happy evening yesterday and a happy day to-day. I could not but think, as we sat quietly at work last night, of Gladys and of how I bored her; I need not ask if I bored you. It was to me a further testimony of the depth, purity, and reality of our mutual love that we could spend a short time in such a way, and a happiness in that I found time could be spent happily like that, for, I suppose it will often happen, if our dreams come true, that evenings, many evenings will be spent in a similar way. The last few minutes were of course the best of all, but I think we should have marred the evening and its perfection if you had agreed to my other suggestion. I don’t know what or why it is, but there seems some blemish in it.
To-day too, has been very, very nice; there seemed to me to be a further help in the relationships between us; I hardly know what to call it and the best word I can think if is “camaraderie”. We seemed to talk more freely and you I thought, unburdened yourself more easily; was it imagination? And after we got home; those few minutes with you leaning on my shoulder and standing by me as I read, seemed just Perfection. I wonder if you knew or guessed how very much I then wanted to kiss you, my Dearest. Thank you for those words you showed to me; they were meant to cheer and help, were they not?
Although I sometimes feel that I have failed to create the home atmosphere I should have wished, I feel that it is not all my own fault and that really my opportunities have been few. After all, I have tried, but the forces against me have, at least for the time, prevailed, and it remains to be seen if ever it is, whether my efforts bear fruit here. Whatever happens, I shall have more experience for the time when you and I go home building.
That thought clings to me like a limpet and I have found it helps very much. It helps me to look forward happily to those days we hope to spend together, it helps me to bear the inconveniences and unpleasantnesses I must at home. I just won’t see more than I can help but look forward.
You half-reproached me once for not looking and being happy. Is there any improvement? If so, it is due to you; and although perhaps modesty will bid you deny it. I think common-sense will affirm it; for what else have I here to make me happy, if it is not you, my Best of Women?
As I think, comparing ourselves with others, I do not see how two could be happier together than we are and hope to be and as I form the best judgement I can of our characters it seems to me that we have between us, many of the qualities which go towards the making of a perfect Home.
A perfect home! – that is what I dream of so often. I want to do my share in the building of it and I want in the preparation time, to get ready for it, and so I am going to try to follow out the inspiration which you gave to me and endeavour to be a gardener, and one other thing, which is my independent idea although you agree with me, and that is to read the best of books, which, I agree, help one to live the highest life.
I must say Goodbye, my Dearest, my really Sweetheart, you who we hope will one day be – My Wife, for it is 12.20 a.m. It is very late, but you must forgive me; I wanted to write a long note without any restrictions of time and Gladys did not go to bed till 11.15, since when I have been writing, but must now stop.
Goodbye, Belovéd, goodbye, I wish I could write some nice things such as you will read in “Walter Greenaway” but although I cannot say it so nicely, you are to me all that is beautiful, pure, and good, you are to me My Perfect Woman.
Once more Goodbye, may God indeed be with you and may He grant us that happiness we so earnestly desire.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Wednesday, 11 November 2009
13 December 1917 Stuart to Edith - Letter #50
Stuart to Edith
Dec. 13 1917
Sweetheart,
When I wrote that note yesterday it was not my intention to give it to you last evening, but the idea came to me and I acted on it, especially as I felt I had not been my real self while I was with you.
I don’t see quite how we can yet fix on to anything definite for the future with its great uncertainty. I wonder sometimes if I have not sufficient faith and if I want to see too far ahead, not trusting sufficiently to Him Who has so far guided me well. Perhaps as time goes by, we shall both be guided to see just those things which we ought to do in preparation for the happy days which we hope will be our lot.
The fact that Corrie is going into the O.T.C.[i] will of course, further handicap me, but I do not regret it at all, as I feel I shall be failing to do what I ought if I put any hindrances in his way.
I must, however, try harder to be better in every way. I gave you some ideas of some of my weaknesses, and those I must endeavour to overcome and to add more polish to myself. I think I can help that by reading some of the best of books and in that choice you can, if you will, help me very much for my reading has been very meagre and limited.
This is very short but it will be just a “Goodnight” note, it will perhaps give you something extra to think of as you go to bed to-night. I wish I could help you more; it seems to me that I am continually asking of you, but am able to do very little for you in return.
I must say Goodbye to you my Belovéd, the Dearest and the Best; I felt almost bewildered by that thought last night as to what it will be if our love grows day by day for forty, fifty or may be more years; how happy then we ought to be! My Belovéd may all our dreams of happiness come true, and may we live together the best life it is possible for Man and Woman to live; I will try hard and I know you will, and I believe we shall get very near.
Goodbye, Belovéd, the Best of Women, Goodbye, Goodbye.
[i] Officer Training Corps
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Dec. 13 1917
Sweetheart,
When I wrote that note yesterday it was not my intention to give it to you last evening, but the idea came to me and I acted on it, especially as I felt I had not been my real self while I was with you.
I don’t see quite how we can yet fix on to anything definite for the future with its great uncertainty. I wonder sometimes if I have not sufficient faith and if I want to see too far ahead, not trusting sufficiently to Him Who has so far guided me well. Perhaps as time goes by, we shall both be guided to see just those things which we ought to do in preparation for the happy days which we hope will be our lot.
The fact that Corrie is going into the O.T.C.[i] will of course, further handicap me, but I do not regret it at all, as I feel I shall be failing to do what I ought if I put any hindrances in his way.
I must, however, try harder to be better in every way. I gave you some ideas of some of my weaknesses, and those I must endeavour to overcome and to add more polish to myself. I think I can help that by reading some of the best of books and in that choice you can, if you will, help me very much for my reading has been very meagre and limited.
This is very short but it will be just a “Goodnight” note, it will perhaps give you something extra to think of as you go to bed to-night. I wish I could help you more; it seems to me that I am continually asking of you, but am able to do very little for you in return.
I must say Goodbye to you my Belovéd, the Dearest and the Best; I felt almost bewildered by that thought last night as to what it will be if our love grows day by day for forty, fifty or may be more years; how happy then we ought to be! My Belovéd may all our dreams of happiness come true, and may we live together the best life it is possible for Man and Woman to live; I will try hard and I know you will, and I believe we shall get very near.
Goodbye, Belovéd, the Best of Women, Goodbye, Goodbye.
[i] Officer Training Corps
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Sunday, 8 November 2009
12 December 1917 Stuart to Edith - Letter #49
Stuart to Edith
Dec. 12 1917
My Belovéd,
One disadvantage of our present system of note-writing is that there are, as now, sometimes two to answer, if any “answer” is required.
Monday’s note was especially nice; in addition to its other nice things there was a good display of sound common sense. Of course, I knew that you were the possessor of that gift but it is very pleasing to find it showing itself to such an advantage as then. You seem to have fathomed the whole difficulty of my past life and the cause of the present situation. No, Belovéd, I do not worry about the past, but I trust I may learn its lessons so as not to be at fault in our future.
Your words brought to mind your letter of the half term. I read it first when I was very tired both in body and mind and the first words that came to me were “Et tu, Brute”! I felt for a moment that you believed all the fault was mine and that you too distrusted me. But that quickly passed. Without any further words from you, I afterwards realized what you really meant, that ti was an effort to help me to make my life happier and everything smoother at home, and I thanked you for it. Now you have shown me still more that you think I have really tried to do my best in spite of things having apparently gone awry.
My Wife-to-be, may you always have that trust and confidence in me. Without it, Sweetheart, I feel we could never reach that at which we aim – the home to which those who know it may look as a pattern of perfection, of how parents and children may grow up in full companionship and happiness.
I am inclined to be impatient, my Dearest, when I am tired and compare my present home with that we hope to have; but it is only a passing phase, and the waiting until all is ready will make that time to come all the more perfect.
You said truly that nothing very definite has transpired about that home to which we look; no, it is true. I fear I am a dreamer, not quite practical enough, too much “up in the cloud” or as Harold would say “on a perch”, but I am hoping that soon I shall be able to say something definite and get something practical out of my many dreams.
I am so glad to know you find life so very much better and that you can look forward with so much calm. Dearest, I hope your thoughts may come true and that when you are ready to leave school, I may be ready to receive you.
Time is up and I have rambled a good deal touching first one thing and then another, and I am afraid this is very much lower than usual. But it is just “me” at the moment, tired, looking forward to seeing you to-night, looking still further further till I shall see you every night. Now Goodbye, thank you again and again for all you have been and are to me; you are indeed my Woman, she who fills up the gaps which want filling and who makes life beautiful. Once more Goodbye, Sweetheart, Goodbye, Goodbye.
(c) DeaestBeloved 2009
Dec. 12 1917
My Belovéd,
One disadvantage of our present system of note-writing is that there are, as now, sometimes two to answer, if any “answer” is required.
Monday’s note was especially nice; in addition to its other nice things there was a good display of sound common sense. Of course, I knew that you were the possessor of that gift but it is very pleasing to find it showing itself to such an advantage as then. You seem to have fathomed the whole difficulty of my past life and the cause of the present situation. No, Belovéd, I do not worry about the past, but I trust I may learn its lessons so as not to be at fault in our future.
Your words brought to mind your letter of the half term. I read it first when I was very tired both in body and mind and the first words that came to me were “Et tu, Brute”! I felt for a moment that you believed all the fault was mine and that you too distrusted me. But that quickly passed. Without any further words from you, I afterwards realized what you really meant, that ti was an effort to help me to make my life happier and everything smoother at home, and I thanked you for it. Now you have shown me still more that you think I have really tried to do my best in spite of things having apparently gone awry.
My Wife-to-be, may you always have that trust and confidence in me. Without it, Sweetheart, I feel we could never reach that at which we aim – the home to which those who know it may look as a pattern of perfection, of how parents and children may grow up in full companionship and happiness.
I am inclined to be impatient, my Dearest, when I am tired and compare my present home with that we hope to have; but it is only a passing phase, and the waiting until all is ready will make that time to come all the more perfect.
You said truly that nothing very definite has transpired about that home to which we look; no, it is true. I fear I am a dreamer, not quite practical enough, too much “up in the cloud” or as Harold would say “on a perch”, but I am hoping that soon I shall be able to say something definite and get something practical out of my many dreams.
I am so glad to know you find life so very much better and that you can look forward with so much calm. Dearest, I hope your thoughts may come true and that when you are ready to leave school, I may be ready to receive you.
Time is up and I have rambled a good deal touching first one thing and then another, and I am afraid this is very much lower than usual. But it is just “me” at the moment, tired, looking forward to seeing you to-night, looking still further further till I shall see you every night. Now Goodbye, thank you again and again for all you have been and are to me; you are indeed my Woman, she who fills up the gaps which want filling and who makes life beautiful. Once more Goodbye, Sweetheart, Goodbye, Goodbye.
(c) DeaestBeloved 2009
Thursday, 5 November 2009
12 December 1917 Edith to Stuart - Letter #48
Edith to Stuart
12.12.17
My Belovéd,
How can you think it is selfish to dream of the happiest days that are to come for use in the Home that is to be ours? Do we ever look forward to trouble, and trial, and hard work? Yet these things never fail to come to every home, and, if taken rightly, they are the making of the home. Do you not think that we shall be drawn closer, and closer, and closer, when we are called to share some deep sorrow together? But it would not be natural to look forward to the difficulties of the life ahead of us. That would only be adding to the burden of the present, instead of lightening it by anticipating future joys. We shall make time for as many as possible, for the beautiful things we enjoy on those excursions are God’s gifts, and it would be wrong to live heedless of them. But we shall find that there are many things to occupy our time, and we shall know, when the time comes, what is right for us to do. I think it more probable that we shall err on the other side. We do not intend to live alone, always, do we, Dearest? and when the family increases, work and responsibilities increase, too. We shall have to take care that we do not become “troubled with much serving”, so that we have neither time, nor inclination, for the things that really matter.
You certainly do most of the talking about the future, Dearest, and You are right in thinking that I could do a good deal, if once I started. I think I could write a book about it. I have a little book which is called “The World Beautiful”. Well, my book would be called “The Home Beautiful”, for our Home is going to be worthy of that name – beautiful outside, beautiful inside, and beautiful where you cannot see it, where you only feel it – beautiful in the Home Spirit. I’ll start at the beginning – It must be beautiful outside. No ugly, stick-out bit at the back, I would like a little garden in front, and another at the far back, where we could have yellow and white jessamine, lilies-of-the-valley, big yellow daisies, and a little lawn for you. I know you don’t like gardening, but I think we could manage this much, don’t you, Belovéd? Listen to this:-
“I know a little garden-close
Set thick with lily and red rose,
Where I would wander if I might
From dewy dawn to dewy night,
And have one with me wandering.”
We will know that little garden-close someday, won’t we, Belovéd? and we’ll wander there, not all day, but part of the day. Now here’s some more about it;-
“A garden is a lovesome thing, God wot!
Rose plot,
Fringed pool,
Fern’d grot –
The veriest school
Of peace; and yet the fool
Contends that God is not –
Not God! in gardens! when the eve is cool?
Nay, but I have a sign;
‘Tis very sure God walks in mine”.
Then, when we have made the outside of our Home beautiful enough for God to walk in the garden, we may be sure He will come farther, and swell inside with use.
Goodbye, my Dearest; the time will soon come when we shall go into the Home Beautiful together. Goodbye, Goodbye.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
12.12.17
My Belovéd,
How can you think it is selfish to dream of the happiest days that are to come for use in the Home that is to be ours? Do we ever look forward to trouble, and trial, and hard work? Yet these things never fail to come to every home, and, if taken rightly, they are the making of the home. Do you not think that we shall be drawn closer, and closer, and closer, when we are called to share some deep sorrow together? But it would not be natural to look forward to the difficulties of the life ahead of us. That would only be adding to the burden of the present, instead of lightening it by anticipating future joys. We shall make time for as many as possible, for the beautiful things we enjoy on those excursions are God’s gifts, and it would be wrong to live heedless of them. But we shall find that there are many things to occupy our time, and we shall know, when the time comes, what is right for us to do. I think it more probable that we shall err on the other side. We do not intend to live alone, always, do we, Dearest? and when the family increases, work and responsibilities increase, too. We shall have to take care that we do not become “troubled with much serving”, so that we have neither time, nor inclination, for the things that really matter.
You certainly do most of the talking about the future, Dearest, and You are right in thinking that I could do a good deal, if once I started. I think I could write a book about it. I have a little book which is called “The World Beautiful”. Well, my book would be called “The Home Beautiful”, for our Home is going to be worthy of that name – beautiful outside, beautiful inside, and beautiful where you cannot see it, where you only feel it – beautiful in the Home Spirit. I’ll start at the beginning – It must be beautiful outside. No ugly, stick-out bit at the back, I would like a little garden in front, and another at the far back, where we could have yellow and white jessamine, lilies-of-the-valley, big yellow daisies, and a little lawn for you. I know you don’t like gardening, but I think we could manage this much, don’t you, Belovéd? Listen to this:-
“I know a little garden-close
Set thick with lily and red rose,
Where I would wander if I might
From dewy dawn to dewy night,
And have one with me wandering.”
We will know that little garden-close someday, won’t we, Belovéd? and we’ll wander there, not all day, but part of the day. Now here’s some more about it;-
“A garden is a lovesome thing, God wot!
Rose plot,
Fringed pool,
Fern’d grot –
The veriest school
Of peace; and yet the fool
Contends that God is not –
Not God! in gardens! when the eve is cool?
Nay, but I have a sign;
‘Tis very sure God walks in mine”.
Then, when we have made the outside of our Home beautiful enough for God to walk in the garden, we may be sure He will come farther, and swell inside with use.
Goodbye, my Dearest; the time will soon come when we shall go into the Home Beautiful together. Goodbye, Goodbye.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Tuesday, 3 November 2009
10 December 1917 Edith to Stuart - Letter #47
Edith to Stuart
10.12.17
My Belovéd,
This is like a continuation of the last note, I wonder how much of that you understood. Not much, I guess. Never mind, I am going to try again.
You must not worry about the way in which I should spend my life if “the other thing should happen”. You have made such a great difference to me, and my life, that I no longer mind teaching the least little bit; in fact, sometimes I think it is quite as good as any other kind of work, except one (you know what that one is). Even if I did mind, I shall be quite free to choose my occupation at the end of that 3½ years, and I think Mother would always be glad to have me at home with her. Now Katie is gone to shop, I can think of that as a possibility, and it would be an excellent preparation for me. I have told you before, that this is what I should like to do. But now, I never think of leaving school until I can come to you, Dearest, so you must not worry about it any more. I am glad you told me, and I hope I have been able to show you that “All’s well”.
I don’t know why you thought your last note did not come up to the standard. I think it is even better than the others. I like especially about “the best home that ever was or will be”. But I must not write any more, for I think you would rather have this in the morning than at night.
So, Goodbye, my Dearest, Best of Men. Goodbye.
The common problem, - yours, mine, everyone’s,
Is – not to fancy what were fair in life
Provided it could be – but finding first
What may be, then find how to make it fair
Up to our means.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
10.12.17
My Belovéd,
This is like a continuation of the last note, I wonder how much of that you understood. Not much, I guess. Never mind, I am going to try again.
You must not worry about the way in which I should spend my life if “the other thing should happen”. You have made such a great difference to me, and my life, that I no longer mind teaching the least little bit; in fact, sometimes I think it is quite as good as any other kind of work, except one (you know what that one is). Even if I did mind, I shall be quite free to choose my occupation at the end of that 3½ years, and I think Mother would always be glad to have me at home with her. Now Katie is gone to shop, I can think of that as a possibility, and it would be an excellent preparation for me. I have told you before, that this is what I should like to do. But now, I never think of leaving school until I can come to you, Dearest, so you must not worry about it any more. I am glad you told me, and I hope I have been able to show you that “All’s well”.
I don’t know why you thought your last note did not come up to the standard. I think it is even better than the others. I like especially about “the best home that ever was or will be”. But I must not write any more, for I think you would rather have this in the morning than at night.
So, Goodbye, my Dearest, Best of Men. Goodbye.
The common problem, - yours, mine, everyone’s,
Is – not to fancy what were fair in life
Provided it could be – but finding first
What may be, then find how to make it fair
Up to our means.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Sunday, 1 November 2009
10 December 1917 Stuart to Edith - Letter #46
Stuart to Edith
Dec. 10 1917
Best Belovéd,
What to write to-night I hardly know. My thoughts seem very vague and tangled, but what there is is about the future. Do I think and talk too much of those days to which I look so keenly? I wonder if I do. I dream and plan you know of Perfection. I hold out visions which seem too good to be realised and I wonder whether by doing such things I shall disappoint you very very much if they are not achieved either because they are perfect or because of the uncertainty of all things in the future. Please tell me just what you think, for I realize that these dreams, these thoughts may be pleasant and helpful even if they never materialize.
I wonder what you really think of the future. It seems to me that I do most of the talking on that subject, and I fear that my plans and ideas may be allowed by you to override your own which I am sure are better than mine. I am afraid mine are dreams; yours will be practical and also beautiful.
What would you like me to do with my life? I look forward, and for my own part I hardly know what to think. One result I want to achieve and that is happiness for both of us and I don’t see yet the best way. It seems to me we should be very very happy if I still remained at the press and we were to live in the country (say where I do now) and were able to spend my spare time in my home, free from such duties as those with which I have laden myself in the past; I dream for you and me by “our ain fireside” or on the water, or walking together, but – are these selfish dreams? Are there duties which I owe to others?
Don’t think me a prig if I say I feel I owe to God more than many others. You can see that I have more or less achieved in the last 6 years, what the world said was impossible; I feel it could not have been done without divine help and guidance, nor without Divine companionship; and it seems to me that I ought perhaps for that reason (as well as others) give my life to some sort of definite evangelical work. That is why I was rather please with the thought of which I told you. I know (and I don’t think my opinion is wrong) I am successful at my business and that being so I might turn it to good effect in the suggested direction. The idea of ordination recedes very much from the front place, but nothing definite takes it place. If you can and will, please tell me something of what you think, for although you say little I know you think much, and after all it is our life not mine.
Goodbye, Dearest, I am late again, so must not say much, but I think now of the days when Goodbye will not be used in its usual meaning, when you and I are together, with or own small maybe but happiest of homes, when you do not have work you dislike, but rather that which is a joy. Think on, Belovéd, be ever patient, the time will not be long. Goodbye, Goodbye, Goodbye.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Dec. 10 1917
Best Belovéd,
What to write to-night I hardly know. My thoughts seem very vague and tangled, but what there is is about the future. Do I think and talk too much of those days to which I look so keenly? I wonder if I do. I dream and plan you know of Perfection. I hold out visions which seem too good to be realised and I wonder whether by doing such things I shall disappoint you very very much if they are not achieved either because they are perfect or because of the uncertainty of all things in the future. Please tell me just what you think, for I realize that these dreams, these thoughts may be pleasant and helpful even if they never materialize.
I wonder what you really think of the future. It seems to me that I do most of the talking on that subject, and I fear that my plans and ideas may be allowed by you to override your own which I am sure are better than mine. I am afraid mine are dreams; yours will be practical and also beautiful.
What would you like me to do with my life? I look forward, and for my own part I hardly know what to think. One result I want to achieve and that is happiness for both of us and I don’t see yet the best way. It seems to me we should be very very happy if I still remained at the press and we were to live in the country (say where I do now) and were able to spend my spare time in my home, free from such duties as those with which I have laden myself in the past; I dream for you and me by “our ain fireside” or on the water, or walking together, but – are these selfish dreams? Are there duties which I owe to others?
Don’t think me a prig if I say I feel I owe to God more than many others. You can see that I have more or less achieved in the last 6 years, what the world said was impossible; I feel it could not have been done without divine help and guidance, nor without Divine companionship; and it seems to me that I ought perhaps for that reason (as well as others) give my life to some sort of definite evangelical work. That is why I was rather please with the thought of which I told you. I know (and I don’t think my opinion is wrong) I am successful at my business and that being so I might turn it to good effect in the suggested direction. The idea of ordination recedes very much from the front place, but nothing definite takes it place. If you can and will, please tell me something of what you think, for although you say little I know you think much, and after all it is our life not mine.
Goodbye, Dearest, I am late again, so must not say much, but I think now of the days when Goodbye will not be used in its usual meaning, when you and I are together, with or own small maybe but happiest of homes, when you do not have work you dislike, but rather that which is a joy. Think on, Belovéd, be ever patient, the time will not be long. Goodbye, Goodbye, Goodbye.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Saturday, 31 October 2009
8 December 1917 Stuart to Edith - Letter #45
Stuart to Edith
Dec. 8 1917
Belovéd,
It is 11 o’clock (“time I was in bed”, you will say) and I sit by the fire along. My thoughts go back to our walk and talk of this evening, which I hope you enjoyed as much as I did. It is pleasing to look into the future, to dream of the days which we hope to enjoy, and I believe it pleases you as well as it does me. You do not say much – but neither do I – you are too full I feel, but I think you like it very much.
I am afraid I hurt you a little perhaps when I speak of unpleasant possibilities, or at least you think me a pessimist but it is not so; I believe we shall both be allowed to enjoy to the full that wonderful, beautiful holy love which has come into our lives.
There is, however, the possibility of the other thing and should it happen, it may be less severe and cruel if you are in some measure prepared. One thing about it troubles me more than a little and it is this. Not as to how you will fee, that will be bad enough, but we shall always be united in spirit and you will look forward to our meeting again, but I am anxious as to how you would spend your life. There comes back to me very vividly how you said on that first Wednesday night “I just HATE” teaching and you said very vehemently; Dearest, we must do something if we can to avoid your life being spent like that.
I ramble, I fear, and do not write nicely, not even as well as usual, let alone p to my improvement, but forgive me for those thoughts have often been in my mind and perhaps now I have expressed them I may feel easier.
Three and a half years is the minimum of our waiting-time. Not too long I think, for I have to save and to do much before that waiting time draws to a close. I hope, however, you will be wrong and that it will not be the happiest time of your life; I am quite willing for it to be such till it is over but when that other time comes, that will, I hope be the best.
I am sure what I said to-night is right and that, for that life to be as perfect as possible. I must give all my time to it,, so that you and I may together build the best home that there ever was or will be. An ideal dream? Perhaps; but I think and hope we shall do our best to make that dream come true.
Can you imagine it, Sweetheart, a home where Love reigns supreme with you and me as its head and a bunch of happy children who can find their pleasures, hoys and happinesses at home with their parents? It’s great and wonderful, and fills me with an awe, which prevents me speaking as I would, but I expect your thoughts are very much like mine, and although the world would ridicule them, I believe they will help us to achieve that Prefect home at which we aim.
I tried to give you some little idea of how you have helped me, especially lately, but it is rather difficult to say anything definite, all I can say is that I am not where I was, but have advanced. I feel better mentally and spiritually, as well as physically and I have little doubt that it is you who have helped. Those evil thoughts against which I waged a long wearisome fight seem now to have quite gone, and in other ways too I am better; especially at home do I feel stronger and more able to resist the cutting words and pinpricks which are thrust at me. You know how depressed used to be for some 4 or 5 months; compare that with what I am now and you will see what good you have done to me.
I am glad that I, in my turn, have helped you but I fear it cannot in anything like the measure you have helped me; I often feel I am amongst much that is not quite straight, at least I am not in a Christian atmosphere and that I am bound to be tainted; I seem to be getting out of touch with the things of religion, but I don’t think the religion which is preached, is the Christianity of the Bible and I think I must work things out for myself a bit more.
This is rather a long rambling note, but I hope you will understand what I have been trying to say, how that you are to me the Best of Women, the purest, the noblest, the BEST of all; I chose you because you were such to me and you have been inspirer and help to me, and although you belittle yourself I know you will never fail me, but will continue to help me up and up until together we get near and nearer Perfect Love and Perfect Life.
Now, Goodbye and Good night. You are, I expect asleep as I write this for it is 11.45; I wish I could just give you another kiss and hug but the time is coming when I shall be able to, when we can go to sleep in each other’s arms to wake again to carry on our joint task. I want to talk more of that time soon and to ask your advice and opinion how best I can prepare for it, so you can think over an answer, and have it ready.
Once again, Goodbye – may God bless you and keep you and make all your life happy and pure and strong, all that is noble and best, and may He make me worthy of that wonderful beautiful love with you have given to me –
Goodbye, Sweetheart, Goodbye, Goodbye.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Dec. 8 1917
Belovéd,
It is 11 o’clock (“time I was in bed”, you will say) and I sit by the fire along. My thoughts go back to our walk and talk of this evening, which I hope you enjoyed as much as I did. It is pleasing to look into the future, to dream of the days which we hope to enjoy, and I believe it pleases you as well as it does me. You do not say much – but neither do I – you are too full I feel, but I think you like it very much.
I am afraid I hurt you a little perhaps when I speak of unpleasant possibilities, or at least you think me a pessimist but it is not so; I believe we shall both be allowed to enjoy to the full that wonderful, beautiful holy love which has come into our lives.
There is, however, the possibility of the other thing and should it happen, it may be less severe and cruel if you are in some measure prepared. One thing about it troubles me more than a little and it is this. Not as to how you will fee, that will be bad enough, but we shall always be united in spirit and you will look forward to our meeting again, but I am anxious as to how you would spend your life. There comes back to me very vividly how you said on that first Wednesday night “I just HATE” teaching and you said very vehemently; Dearest, we must do something if we can to avoid your life being spent like that.
I ramble, I fear, and do not write nicely, not even as well as usual, let alone p to my improvement, but forgive me for those thoughts have often been in my mind and perhaps now I have expressed them I may feel easier.
Three and a half years is the minimum of our waiting-time. Not too long I think, for I have to save and to do much before that waiting time draws to a close. I hope, however, you will be wrong and that it will not be the happiest time of your life; I am quite willing for it to be such till it is over but when that other time comes, that will, I hope be the best.
I am sure what I said to-night is right and that, for that life to be as perfect as possible. I must give all my time to it,, so that you and I may together build the best home that there ever was or will be. An ideal dream? Perhaps; but I think and hope we shall do our best to make that dream come true.
Can you imagine it, Sweetheart, a home where Love reigns supreme with you and me as its head and a bunch of happy children who can find their pleasures, hoys and happinesses at home with their parents? It’s great and wonderful, and fills me with an awe, which prevents me speaking as I would, but I expect your thoughts are very much like mine, and although the world would ridicule them, I believe they will help us to achieve that Prefect home at which we aim.
I tried to give you some little idea of how you have helped me, especially lately, but it is rather difficult to say anything definite, all I can say is that I am not where I was, but have advanced. I feel better mentally and spiritually, as well as physically and I have little doubt that it is you who have helped. Those evil thoughts against which I waged a long wearisome fight seem now to have quite gone, and in other ways too I am better; especially at home do I feel stronger and more able to resist the cutting words and pinpricks which are thrust at me. You know how depressed used to be for some 4 or 5 months; compare that with what I am now and you will see what good you have done to me.
I am glad that I, in my turn, have helped you but I fear it cannot in anything like the measure you have helped me; I often feel I am amongst much that is not quite straight, at least I am not in a Christian atmosphere and that I am bound to be tainted; I seem to be getting out of touch with the things of religion, but I don’t think the religion which is preached, is the Christianity of the Bible and I think I must work things out for myself a bit more.
This is rather a long rambling note, but I hope you will understand what I have been trying to say, how that you are to me the Best of Women, the purest, the noblest, the BEST of all; I chose you because you were such to me and you have been inspirer and help to me, and although you belittle yourself I know you will never fail me, but will continue to help me up and up until together we get near and nearer Perfect Love and Perfect Life.
Now, Goodbye and Good night. You are, I expect asleep as I write this for it is 11.45; I wish I could just give you another kiss and hug but the time is coming when I shall be able to, when we can go to sleep in each other’s arms to wake again to carry on our joint task. I want to talk more of that time soon and to ask your advice and opinion how best I can prepare for it, so you can think over an answer, and have it ready.
Once again, Goodbye – may God bless you and keep you and make all your life happy and pure and strong, all that is noble and best, and may He make me worthy of that wonderful beautiful love with you have given to me –
Goodbye, Sweetheart, Goodbye, Goodbye.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Tuesday, 27 October 2009
7 December 1917 Edith to Stuart - Letter #44
Edith to Stuart
7.12.17
My Belovéd,
You will be without a note tonight, and I am very sorry. I would bring this up to you when you leave the Press, but that would mean leaving mother alone, and you know she does not like that. However, I will get ahead in the week-end, so that you shall not be without one again, if I can help it.
Your sorrow about Dick is one in which I can sympathise. It is not very long since Dorothy Taylor did and I can well remember the strange feelings I had at that time. It seemed impossible, for quite a long time, to believe that she was really dead; I thought, at times, that if I went up to her room, she would surely be there in the bed. I had quite a shock the first time I went into the room afterwards, for in spite of the fact that I knew she was not there, there was something in me which expected to see her. But this is all about me, and I wanted to write about you. Dearest, you know what I would say, but I can’t. Although you said it was his Mother you thought about, I know there is a longing, “hungry” sort of feeling, deep down inside you, and you wish you could see him, speak to him, touch him, just once more.
I am going to write out to-night a little “poetry-piece”, which I often read when I think about Dorothy. I am afraid it only applies to a girl, but I think you would like to read it.
Now, to turn to other things, I must just remind you, Dearest, that the waiting is not all due to you. I have to serve at 3½ years more, so, even if you were ready, I should have to ask you to wait. We may have to wait longer, but we can think about that when the time comes. But I cannot see how public opinion could condemn you for asking me to do something which I cannot help doing. This is badly expressed, but you understand what I mean. The waiting time has been, and I am sure it will still be, the happiest time of my life. So, Dearest, don’t be afraid you are making it hard. Such times as Sunday evening make the time pass more quickly. They give something to look back to, and something wonderful and holy to look forward to. It was only for a few moments that I felt I could not wait. I think, however, that your suggestion that we should leave such things for indoors is a good one. I was glad you told me that you liked the first part of Sunday evening best. I liked it much the best. But I thought, somehow, it was the other you preferred, so I did not say. I wonder if you think me a turn coat; but I did not say before, which I liked best.
There are other things I want to say, but I must put them in the week-end letter.
Goodbye, my Belovéd, my Dearest, My Best of all men. Be happy, and keep happy, and get happier and happier, and someday, we’ll be happy together.
Good-night, Belovéd, Goodnight.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
7.12.17
My Belovéd,
You will be without a note tonight, and I am very sorry. I would bring this up to you when you leave the Press, but that would mean leaving mother alone, and you know she does not like that. However, I will get ahead in the week-end, so that you shall not be without one again, if I can help it.
Your sorrow about Dick is one in which I can sympathise. It is not very long since Dorothy Taylor did and I can well remember the strange feelings I had at that time. It seemed impossible, for quite a long time, to believe that she was really dead; I thought, at times, that if I went up to her room, she would surely be there in the bed. I had quite a shock the first time I went into the room afterwards, for in spite of the fact that I knew she was not there, there was something in me which expected to see her. But this is all about me, and I wanted to write about you. Dearest, you know what I would say, but I can’t. Although you said it was his Mother you thought about, I know there is a longing, “hungry” sort of feeling, deep down inside you, and you wish you could see him, speak to him, touch him, just once more.
I am going to write out to-night a little “poetry-piece”, which I often read when I think about Dorothy. I am afraid it only applies to a girl, but I think you would like to read it.
Now, to turn to other things, I must just remind you, Dearest, that the waiting is not all due to you. I have to serve at 3½ years more, so, even if you were ready, I should have to ask you to wait. We may have to wait longer, but we can think about that when the time comes. But I cannot see how public opinion could condemn you for asking me to do something which I cannot help doing. This is badly expressed, but you understand what I mean. The waiting time has been, and I am sure it will still be, the happiest time of my life. So, Dearest, don’t be afraid you are making it hard. Such times as Sunday evening make the time pass more quickly. They give something to look back to, and something wonderful and holy to look forward to. It was only for a few moments that I felt I could not wait. I think, however, that your suggestion that we should leave such things for indoors is a good one. I was glad you told me that you liked the first part of Sunday evening best. I liked it much the best. But I thought, somehow, it was the other you preferred, so I did not say. I wonder if you think me a turn coat; but I did not say before, which I liked best.
There are other things I want to say, but I must put them in the week-end letter.
Goodbye, my Belovéd, my Dearest, My Best of all men. Be happy, and keep happy, and get happier and happier, and someday, we’ll be happy together.
Good-night, Belovéd, Goodnight.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Monday, 26 October 2009
6 December 1917 Stuart to Edith - Letter #43
Stuart to Edith
Dec. 6 1917
Sweet-heart,
I am afraid this will be very short and perhaps not very nice, as a strain of sadness will possibly be in it. I have lost one of my few friends, and although we had little in common, he was dear to me, and my thoughts turn to him wounded and dying, and to his poor Mother who loved all her family so dearly; her sorrow must be very great.
There are a few things I want to say. First about the “irksome”; I did not think the experience was unpleasant at all, but was afraid it would make the waiting time seem too long. My Belovéd, it is a long time to ask you to wait and public opinion would, I think, condemn me for asking it, but I know now that I had to ask or (horrible thought) lose you, and I do not regret it. I want, however, to help you during that waiting time, to make it happy and pleasant, and that is why I was rather nervous last night. Perhaps it would be best to leave such things for indoors for occasions like Sunday evening, - they will be all the sweeter for being rare, but this is just my thoughts (not opinion) and the final decision I will leave to you.
The next thing is what I tried to say last night. I feel inconsistent; I write to you some of my thoughts and ideas of home life and yet I who have had the opportunity of putting such things into practice have failed to some extent. I think there is no denying that fact, but whether it is my fault or not, I cannot say; I think not altogether, but rather the circumstances under which we have lived. However, Dearest, failure or not, believe me I will try hard with you to make our home perfect especially on the spiritual side.
One more thing. Of course you will fall; because I think you perfect and no one is that, but the falling will not hurt or do any harm, what will hurt (but that will never happen) is when you give up trying, which I don’t think will ever be.
Now Goodbye, Sweetheart, the Best of All Women to me, dream happy pleasant dreams of the days to which we are both looking, be patient during the waiting time and then --- words fail me.
Once again, Goodbye – God be with you, Belovéd, and help you to all that is good and noble and pure, as I trust He will me, so that the end of our waiting may be just Perfection.
Once again Goodbye and thank you for all you are to me.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Dec. 6 1917
Sweet-heart,
I am afraid this will be very short and perhaps not very nice, as a strain of sadness will possibly be in it. I have lost one of my few friends, and although we had little in common, he was dear to me, and my thoughts turn to him wounded and dying, and to his poor Mother who loved all her family so dearly; her sorrow must be very great.
There are a few things I want to say. First about the “irksome”; I did not think the experience was unpleasant at all, but was afraid it would make the waiting time seem too long. My Belovéd, it is a long time to ask you to wait and public opinion would, I think, condemn me for asking it, but I know now that I had to ask or (horrible thought) lose you, and I do not regret it. I want, however, to help you during that waiting time, to make it happy and pleasant, and that is why I was rather nervous last night. Perhaps it would be best to leave such things for indoors for occasions like Sunday evening, - they will be all the sweeter for being rare, but this is just my thoughts (not opinion) and the final decision I will leave to you.
The next thing is what I tried to say last night. I feel inconsistent; I write to you some of my thoughts and ideas of home life and yet I who have had the opportunity of putting such things into practice have failed to some extent. I think there is no denying that fact, but whether it is my fault or not, I cannot say; I think not altogether, but rather the circumstances under which we have lived. However, Dearest, failure or not, believe me I will try hard with you to make our home perfect especially on the spiritual side.
One more thing. Of course you will fall; because I think you perfect and no one is that, but the falling will not hurt or do any harm, what will hurt (but that will never happen) is when you give up trying, which I don’t think will ever be.
Now Goodbye, Sweetheart, the Best of All Women to me, dream happy pleasant dreams of the days to which we are both looking, be patient during the waiting time and then --- words fail me.
Once again, Goodbye – God be with you, Belovéd, and help you to all that is good and noble and pure, as I trust He will me, so that the end of our waiting may be just Perfection.
Once again Goodbye and thank you for all you are to me.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Saturday, 24 October 2009
4 December 1917 Edith to Stuart - Letter #42
Edith to Stuart
30.11.17
My Belovéd,
You will be surprised to see the date at the top of this, but I feel I must just write a few lines to you tonight, although I have nothing to say. And shall I whisper to you the time? It is now twenty minutes past eleven, and I am in bed, and shall soon be asleep.
I love to think of the time when you will come home to tea with me, and you think about it, too. Tonight, when you spoke of it, you made me think of “Meg”, in “Little Women”. I suppose you don’t know her, so I will tell you about her to-morrow. Now, Goodnight, my Dearest, Goodnight.
4.12.17
My Dearest,
The first part of this note is very queer, and I thought at first I would not give it you. But I wrote it for you, so you must have it. Meg’s story is too long to write; perhaps we will read it together someday.
Your last two notes have, I think, been the best of all. I agree with all you say about the Home-building, and I hope the talk may come soon. To me, our Home is already a very real thing, and I think about it a great deal, perhaps more than I ought. Especially in Church, I find it difficult to concentrate my thoughts on the proper things. They will do off to that time which is coming, when we shall really be together in our own Home.
I did not mean that Sunday evening was in any way irksome. You know, Dearest, that it was not. In fact, it was almost perfect. It was as perfect as anything can be, now, until the endings of our evening can be different. I love to think how strong you are. I have known for a long time the strength of your character, but now you have shown me your bodily strength as well. I should not have thought it possible for you to do what you did. I only hope it gave you as much pleasure as it gave me. Women always admire strength in men, and, I think, always like to feel that they have master. At any rate, I do. You are my Master, and --- I love you.
Now, Dearest, I must just warn you that you are doing what you accused me of doing once. You are putting me on a pedestal. Thank you, Dearest, more, more than I can say for the words at the end of your note. They were beautiful, but, I am sorry to have to say it, they were too good. I am doing my best to live up to your Ideal, but, sometimes I am very much afraid of falling. What if I do, Dearest? I do not fear that you will cease to love me. I don’t believe you ever will. But, you know, Belovéd, you are really and truly so far above me, that your disappointment will be terrible, I am afraid, when you know me, as I really am. But ---
“Love the strong and weak doth yoke,
and makes the ivy climb the oak.”
So, Dearest, you have to help me up to that ideal of Womanhood, of which you see possibilities in me. With you ready to help, and me longing to climb, perhaps we shall succeed between us. I hope, and pray, that we may, because, you Best of men, you deserve the Best of Women for your companion. I fear that I shall never be that, the Best of Women, but, I will come as near as I can.
Goodnight, Belovéd, Goodnight.
E’en like two little bank-dividing brooks,
That wash the pebbles with their wanton streams,
And having ranged and searched a thousand nooks,
Meet both at length in silver-breasted Thames,
Where in a greater current they conjoin:
So I my Best-belovèd’s am; so He is mine.
E’en so we met; and after long pursuit,
E’en so we joined; we both became entire;
No need for either to renew a suit;
For I was flax, and He was flame of fire:
Our firm-united souls did more than twine;
So I my Best-belovèd’s am; so He is mine.
If all these glittering Monarchs, that command
The servile quarters of this earthly ball,
Should tender in exchange their shares of land,
I would not change my fortunes for them all;
Their wealth is but a counter to my coin:
The world’s but theirs; but my Beloved’s mine.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
30.11.17
My Belovéd,
You will be surprised to see the date at the top of this, but I feel I must just write a few lines to you tonight, although I have nothing to say. And shall I whisper to you the time? It is now twenty minutes past eleven, and I am in bed, and shall soon be asleep.
I love to think of the time when you will come home to tea with me, and you think about it, too. Tonight, when you spoke of it, you made me think of “Meg”, in “Little Women”. I suppose you don’t know her, so I will tell you about her to-morrow. Now, Goodnight, my Dearest, Goodnight.
4.12.17
My Dearest,
The first part of this note is very queer, and I thought at first I would not give it you. But I wrote it for you, so you must have it. Meg’s story is too long to write; perhaps we will read it together someday.
Your last two notes have, I think, been the best of all. I agree with all you say about the Home-building, and I hope the talk may come soon. To me, our Home is already a very real thing, and I think about it a great deal, perhaps more than I ought. Especially in Church, I find it difficult to concentrate my thoughts on the proper things. They will do off to that time which is coming, when we shall really be together in our own Home.
I did not mean that Sunday evening was in any way irksome. You know, Dearest, that it was not. In fact, it was almost perfect. It was as perfect as anything can be, now, until the endings of our evening can be different. I love to think how strong you are. I have known for a long time the strength of your character, but now you have shown me your bodily strength as well. I should not have thought it possible for you to do what you did. I only hope it gave you as much pleasure as it gave me. Women always admire strength in men, and, I think, always like to feel that they have master. At any rate, I do. You are my Master, and --- I love you.
Now, Dearest, I must just warn you that you are doing what you accused me of doing once. You are putting me on a pedestal. Thank you, Dearest, more, more than I can say for the words at the end of your note. They were beautiful, but, I am sorry to have to say it, they were too good. I am doing my best to live up to your Ideal, but, sometimes I am very much afraid of falling. What if I do, Dearest? I do not fear that you will cease to love me. I don’t believe you ever will. But, you know, Belovéd, you are really and truly so far above me, that your disappointment will be terrible, I am afraid, when you know me, as I really am. But ---
“Love the strong and weak doth yoke,
and makes the ivy climb the oak.”
So, Dearest, you have to help me up to that ideal of Womanhood, of which you see possibilities in me. With you ready to help, and me longing to climb, perhaps we shall succeed between us. I hope, and pray, that we may, because, you Best of men, you deserve the Best of Women for your companion. I fear that I shall never be that, the Best of Women, but, I will come as near as I can.
Goodnight, Belovéd, Goodnight.
E’en like two little bank-dividing brooks,
That wash the pebbles with their wanton streams,
And having ranged and searched a thousand nooks,
Meet both at length in silver-breasted Thames,
Where in a greater current they conjoin:
So I my Best-belovèd’s am; so He is mine.
E’en so we met; and after long pursuit,
E’en so we joined; we both became entire;
No need for either to renew a suit;
For I was flax, and He was flame of fire:
Our firm-united souls did more than twine;
So I my Best-belovèd’s am; so He is mine.
If all these glittering Monarchs, that command
The servile quarters of this earthly ball,
Should tender in exchange their shares of land,
I would not change my fortunes for them all;
Their wealth is but a counter to my coin:
The world’s but theirs; but my Beloved’s mine.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Thursday, 22 October 2009
3 December 1917 Stuart to Edith - Letter #41
Stuart to Edith
Dec. 3 1917
Belovéd,
You are quite right again; if such evenings as last night make you feel as you say, they are indeed dangerous, and we must not have them very often, for I must not make you “rebellious”; be strong, be patient, dear, the time for which we are waiting will very soon be here and then ---; I look back at the past 6 years and they have gone very quickly, and I don’t think we shall have to wait 6 years, but whatever the time may be, Belovéd, don’t let me do anything to make it irksome to you, and when I do, tell me as you have done to-day.
I was thinking of the future as I walked round Hinksey yesterday morning. The thoughts which came to me were something like these.
Until the last 3 months (perhaps 2 months or even less) I had but one aim, ordination and I think perhaps I allowed that o overshadow other things; Miss Packer suggested as much, too, and I am not sure that she is not right. But now, my point of view has changed, and I lean towards the idea of making a perfect home. Many, the majority, would say that I have put my hand to the plough and turned back but I don’t know that they are right. The other idea had never presented itself to me for myself, although I have for a long time held that such was the best thing a layman could do; you know by this time that I have always been led to believe that I was far too peculiar a person for any one to wish to share life with; but I was told wrongly.
Now that we have learned to love one another with what seems to me the deepest, purest, and whitest of loves, I must show I appreciate this Divine gift. I must do as I now feel I ought and what I think best for us both, help you or work with your “home-building”. I wonder if you understand me, Dearest, for this is all spontaneous and I write the words just as they come; calm meditated thought is perhaps clearer, but it is not ME (pardon!).
We will talk, perhaps, one day for after Christmas, I want to start working for that home; it seems a long way ahead with many uncertainties in between, but I feel that the God who has given us this love for each other will allow us to bring it to completion; that is one of the things I pray for daily and I feel sure it will come, and so am able to look forward hopefully.
Goodbye, Belovéd, there are many things I want to say, but it is very very difficult to find words just when I want to, it would not be possible to find them to tell you what you are to me, for it is not too much for me to say you are my ideal; that a woman could be as good, as true, as sensible,, as unselfish, as thoughtful and loving as you are, I used to doubt, but now that I know you, I realize that a woman can in reality possess those fine and noble qualities which I had thought they only possessed in theory, for I have seen them in you, who are to me perfections, the best, the whitest of all.
Goodbye, Sweetheart, look ahead happily and patiently; that ime will soon be here, my Dearest and Best.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Dec. 3 1917
Belovéd,
You are quite right again; if such evenings as last night make you feel as you say, they are indeed dangerous, and we must not have them very often, for I must not make you “rebellious”; be strong, be patient, dear, the time for which we are waiting will very soon be here and then ---; I look back at the past 6 years and they have gone very quickly, and I don’t think we shall have to wait 6 years, but whatever the time may be, Belovéd, don’t let me do anything to make it irksome to you, and when I do, tell me as you have done to-day.
I was thinking of the future as I walked round Hinksey yesterday morning. The thoughts which came to me were something like these.
Until the last 3 months (perhaps 2 months or even less) I had but one aim, ordination and I think perhaps I allowed that o overshadow other things; Miss Packer suggested as much, too, and I am not sure that she is not right. But now, my point of view has changed, and I lean towards the idea of making a perfect home. Many, the majority, would say that I have put my hand to the plough and turned back but I don’t know that they are right. The other idea had never presented itself to me for myself, although I have for a long time held that such was the best thing a layman could do; you know by this time that I have always been led to believe that I was far too peculiar a person for any one to wish to share life with; but I was told wrongly.
Now that we have learned to love one another with what seems to me the deepest, purest, and whitest of loves, I must show I appreciate this Divine gift. I must do as I now feel I ought and what I think best for us both, help you or work with your “home-building”. I wonder if you understand me, Dearest, for this is all spontaneous and I write the words just as they come; calm meditated thought is perhaps clearer, but it is not ME (pardon!).
We will talk, perhaps, one day for after Christmas, I want to start working for that home; it seems a long way ahead with many uncertainties in between, but I feel that the God who has given us this love for each other will allow us to bring it to completion; that is one of the things I pray for daily and I feel sure it will come, and so am able to look forward hopefully.
Goodbye, Belovéd, there are many things I want to say, but it is very very difficult to find words just when I want to, it would not be possible to find them to tell you what you are to me, for it is not too much for me to say you are my ideal; that a woman could be as good, as true, as sensible,, as unselfish, as thoughtful and loving as you are, I used to doubt, but now that I know you, I realize that a woman can in reality possess those fine and noble qualities which I had thought they only possessed in theory, for I have seen them in you, who are to me perfections, the best, the whitest of all.
Goodbye, Sweetheart, look ahead happily and patiently; that ime will soon be here, my Dearest and Best.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Wednesday, 21 October 2009
3 December 1917 Stuart to Edith - Letter #40
Stuart to Edith
Dec. 3 1917
Dearest,
I must thank you for a most delightful and happy evening; it is useless for me to try to say how extra special nice it was, because I can’t, but it was one of the best, and although I don’t perhaps show you how I love you by passionate expressions, yet it goes very very deep, deeper than I should at one time have thought possible, too deep I am sure to be ever taken out. I could perhaps let myself go sometimes, as I did a little last night, but I am afraid of going too far and taking liberties. You are still, I feel and I hope I always shall, above me, to be reverenced, to be treated almost as something only; I cannot compare you with others, it is like comparing inferior metal to pure gold, for you are to me the purest, the noblest, the BEST.
I repeat myself (do I not?), but never mind; I am glad I feel so about you, whatever you think, for it makes me try always (or nearly always) to come up to where you are, and as I look ahead I feel I shall want you to help me a long way up.
A material home does not worry me, at all, for if I have been able to keep a home for sister and brothers, it seems a comparatively easy matter to keep one for ourselves (how do you like this thought?) and I don’t think the other side (shall I call it spiritual?) should cause me anxiety. As I look back I can see fairly well that distrust has helped very much our home difficulties, and I don’t see how it could be helped, for many many times have I found Gladys in debt; even in the last 12 months, I discovered she was owing more than £3.
But we shall not be like that, we shall as one, the breath, the fainted suspicion of distrust must not come between us. Please trust me always, I may do funny things at times but I love you very very much, when in doubt ask me or tell me somehow and I will try to drive it away.
Goodbye, Belovéd, my Dearest and Best, I expect I shall be late to-day, but I wanted to write all this; Goodbye you best and noblest of all, who have helped me so much, goodbye, goodbye.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Dec. 3 1917
Dearest,
I must thank you for a most delightful and happy evening; it is useless for me to try to say how extra special nice it was, because I can’t, but it was one of the best, and although I don’t perhaps show you how I love you by passionate expressions, yet it goes very very deep, deeper than I should at one time have thought possible, too deep I am sure to be ever taken out. I could perhaps let myself go sometimes, as I did a little last night, but I am afraid of going too far and taking liberties. You are still, I feel and I hope I always shall, above me, to be reverenced, to be treated almost as something only; I cannot compare you with others, it is like comparing inferior metal to pure gold, for you are to me the purest, the noblest, the BEST.
I repeat myself (do I not?), but never mind; I am glad I feel so about you, whatever you think, for it makes me try always (or nearly always) to come up to where you are, and as I look ahead I feel I shall want you to help me a long way up.
A material home does not worry me, at all, for if I have been able to keep a home for sister and brothers, it seems a comparatively easy matter to keep one for ourselves (how do you like this thought?) and I don’t think the other side (shall I call it spiritual?) should cause me anxiety. As I look back I can see fairly well that distrust has helped very much our home difficulties, and I don’t see how it could be helped, for many many times have I found Gladys in debt; even in the last 12 months, I discovered she was owing more than £3.
But we shall not be like that, we shall as one, the breath, the fainted suspicion of distrust must not come between us. Please trust me always, I may do funny things at times but I love you very very much, when in doubt ask me or tell me somehow and I will try to drive it away.
Goodbye, Belovéd, my Dearest and Best, I expect I shall be late to-day, but I wanted to write all this; Goodbye you best and noblest of all, who have helped me so much, goodbye, goodbye.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Tuesday, 20 October 2009
2 December 1917 Edith to Stuart - Letter #39
Edith to Stuart
2.12.17
My Belovéd,
On Friday I started a note to you, but I cannot think just where I put it, so you must have that one next time. I feel I must write something to give you in the morning, but it must be very short, for it is past eleven.
Dearest, I cannot tell you how much I have enjoyed this evening. I think it will always be one of the Red Letter Days. I do not think you took a liberty at all, because --- I am all yours. But, Sweetheart, I had a strange feeling, and I think you did, too, that it was dangerous, and must not be repeated often. I felt myself asking, “Why must we wait? Why must we wait?”
Of course, I know it is to our advantage all round, that we should wait. In fact, it is impossible for us to do anything else. But just for a little while, I felt very rebellious.
It seemed a long time ago. That I loved you so much I could not possibly love you any more. But I find, like you, that it grows. Each day, I feel that I love you more than before, and today, --- more and more than ever. And, Dearest, I like to come to your house so much. It is altogether different from you coming to our’s. I don’t know why, unless it is because it is your house, and may, perhaps, be ours someday.
Now, Dearest, I must say Good-night as it is nearly half-past-eleven, and I may hear something in the morning.
Good-night, my Dearest, I which I could make the weeks and months go faster and faster, (but I do not suppose they will be any too long for all we have to do.)
Once more, Goodnight, Belovéd, Goodnight.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
2.12.17
My Belovéd,
On Friday I started a note to you, but I cannot think just where I put it, so you must have that one next time. I feel I must write something to give you in the morning, but it must be very short, for it is past eleven.
Dearest, I cannot tell you how much I have enjoyed this evening. I think it will always be one of the Red Letter Days. I do not think you took a liberty at all, because --- I am all yours. But, Sweetheart, I had a strange feeling, and I think you did, too, that it was dangerous, and must not be repeated often. I felt myself asking, “Why must we wait? Why must we wait?”
Of course, I know it is to our advantage all round, that we should wait. In fact, it is impossible for us to do anything else. But just for a little while, I felt very rebellious.
It seemed a long time ago. That I loved you so much I could not possibly love you any more. But I find, like you, that it grows. Each day, I feel that I love you more than before, and today, --- more and more than ever. And, Dearest, I like to come to your house so much. It is altogether different from you coming to our’s. I don’t know why, unless it is because it is your house, and may, perhaps, be ours someday.
Now, Dearest, I must say Good-night as it is nearly half-past-eleven, and I may hear something in the morning.
Good-night, my Dearest, I which I could make the weeks and months go faster and faster, (but I do not suppose they will be any too long for all we have to do.)
Once more, Goodnight, Belovéd, Goodnight.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Sunday, 18 October 2009
30 November 1917 Edith to Stuart - Letter #38
Edith to Stuart
30.11.17
My Belovéd,
You will be surprised to see the date at the top of this, but I feel I must just write a few lines to you tonight, although I have nothing to say. And shall I whisper to you the time? It is now twenty minutes past eleven, and I am in bed, and shall soon be asleep.
I love to think of the time when you will come home to tea with me, and you think about it, too. Tonight, when you spoke of it, you made me think of “Meg”, in “Little Women”. I suppose you don’t know her, so I will tell you about her to-morrow. Now, Goodnight, my Dearest, Goodnight.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
30.11.17
My Belovéd,
You will be surprised to see the date at the top of this, but I feel I must just write a few lines to you tonight, although I have nothing to say. And shall I whisper to you the time? It is now twenty minutes past eleven, and I am in bed, and shall soon be asleep.
I love to think of the time when you will come home to tea with me, and you think about it, too. Tonight, when you spoke of it, you made me think of “Meg”, in “Little Women”. I suppose you don’t know her, so I will tell you about her to-morrow. Now, Goodnight, my Dearest, Goodnight.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Saturday, 17 October 2009
29 November 1917 Edith to Stuart - Letter #37
Edith to Stuart
29.11.17
My Belovéd,
Thank you very much for the note which you gave me this morning. I like it very much, in fact, I like it more than that, because I like all your notes very much, but this is one that is extra nice. It is not really very different from the others, only you had something different to say in it. My feelings, when Mrs Bennett gave us her gift, were very much like yours, but, perhaps not quite so marked, because I had felt so many times before. Her gift is not to me quite the first stone, because I already had several, although they were very small. Of course, it is the first one that has been given to us, but I have always regarded the others as being yours as well as mine. It is great and wonderful to think of ourselves as “Home-builders”. We are builders now, aren’t we? In fact, we have been builders for a long time. I think of it often through the day, and it is surprising how much it helps.
Do you remember last Thursday? I do. I love to think of those few minutes we spent together in the evening. Isn’t it strange how some little events stand out clearly from all others? I suppose I enjoyed those few minutes so much because I wanted you extra specially much, for I was feeling so miserable. One other time stands out as clearly, the very first Monday of all, in the boat. Oh, Dearest, I cannot tell you how I was felling that day; everything seemed as black as it could be. And then --- you know. It has all changed, for I had --- you. You did not say anything, but I knew almost as much then, as I did on that Wednesday evening. Monday left an impression almost, if not quite as deep as Wednesday. It was the First Day, and the beginning of it was very black for me. But the end ------------
“For clouds and darkness, and the still, small voice;
For sorrows bearing fruit of nobler life;
For those sore strokes that broke us at Thy feet;
For peace in strife; for gain in seeming loss;
For every loss that wrought the greater gain;
For that sweet juice from bitterness outpressed;
For all this sweet, strange paradox of life; ---
We thank thee, Lord”
Do you understand, Dearest?
Goodnight, Belovéd, Goodnight.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
29.11.17
My Belovéd,
Thank you very much for the note which you gave me this morning. I like it very much, in fact, I like it more than that, because I like all your notes very much, but this is one that is extra nice. It is not really very different from the others, only you had something different to say in it. My feelings, when Mrs Bennett gave us her gift, were very much like yours, but, perhaps not quite so marked, because I had felt so many times before. Her gift is not to me quite the first stone, because I already had several, although they were very small. Of course, it is the first one that has been given to us, but I have always regarded the others as being yours as well as mine. It is great and wonderful to think of ourselves as “Home-builders”. We are builders now, aren’t we? In fact, we have been builders for a long time. I think of it often through the day, and it is surprising how much it helps.
Do you remember last Thursday? I do. I love to think of those few minutes we spent together in the evening. Isn’t it strange how some little events stand out clearly from all others? I suppose I enjoyed those few minutes so much because I wanted you extra specially much, for I was feeling so miserable. One other time stands out as clearly, the very first Monday of all, in the boat. Oh, Dearest, I cannot tell you how I was felling that day; everything seemed as black as it could be. And then --- you know. It has all changed, for I had --- you. You did not say anything, but I knew almost as much then, as I did on that Wednesday evening. Monday left an impression almost, if not quite as deep as Wednesday. It was the First Day, and the beginning of it was very black for me. But the end ------------
“For clouds and darkness, and the still, small voice;
For sorrows bearing fruit of nobler life;
For those sore strokes that broke us at Thy feet;
For peace in strife; for gain in seeming loss;
For every loss that wrought the greater gain;
For that sweet juice from bitterness outpressed;
For all this sweet, strange paradox of life; ---
We thank thee, Lord”
Do you understand, Dearest?
Goodnight, Belovéd, Goodnight.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Friday, 16 October 2009
28 November 1917 Stuart to Edith - Letter #36
Stuart to Edith
Nov. 28 1917
Sweetheart,
I wonder what thoughts passed through your mind when you received Mrs Bennett’s gift. For myself, the seriousness and solemnity of our action and position seemed to come to me very strongly; it seemed to me, as it were the foundation stone, or at least the first stone in the building of the home which you and I are hoping for. Home-builders – how does that sound? I trust we may be successful and happy in that work, and that each will be able to supply the needs of the other.
Similar ideas ran through my mind at tea-time. You and I in our home; it moved me to the depths and I would have liked to have spoken some of the thoughts which were in my mind, but they seemed too deep to be dragged up, but I felt we knew each other’s thoughts and there was very little need for words.
Has your plan for making me happier succeeded? I think it has; for I have not felt that horrible depression which used to come so often, since I made a fresh start; friction and unkindness at home I have made up my mind not to notice, and as I am at home little I can easily ignore both.
It is you who have made this easy for me, you have made me brighter, you to have given me zest in my life, so that I feel now, instead of being overwhelmed by my work, that I can grapple with it and am master of it. Of course, I have many things yet to learn, but I feel myself capable of learning them.
You see I did remember the name, and isn’t it curious that my thoughts about it where just like yours? I think I told you your Mother used it once (the day you went to Tempsford) and it did not sound nice at all, but as I wrote it to you, it seemed to me just as it did to you “deep down and real and true”, and I am glad you liked it.
Twelve weeks have gone, gone like a flash, and we are nearer and dearer to one another than before. I have not the slightest hesitation now in saying “I love you”. I know I have made no mistake, and that is you for whom I have so long been waiting the fill up the gap; but you were worth waiting for!
I must not write more, except to say Goodbye to you, Belovéd, how I wish I could just say it to you, but I think of you always and you are the last in my thoughts every night, as you are first in the morning; the time is coming, and not so vary far away, when not only in thought but in person shall we be with each other night and morning.
Goodbye, my Dearest, help me to be all that you would have me be, all that is noblest and purest and best, help me to be fit to be your life’s companion. You that are to me all that is the very Best; no adjectives are adequate, not even superlatives, for in every thing, Belovéd, you are to me the very BEST. Goodbye, Goodbye.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Nov. 28 1917
Sweetheart,
I wonder what thoughts passed through your mind when you received Mrs Bennett’s gift. For myself, the seriousness and solemnity of our action and position seemed to come to me very strongly; it seemed to me, as it were the foundation stone, or at least the first stone in the building of the home which you and I are hoping for. Home-builders – how does that sound? I trust we may be successful and happy in that work, and that each will be able to supply the needs of the other.
Similar ideas ran through my mind at tea-time. You and I in our home; it moved me to the depths and I would have liked to have spoken some of the thoughts which were in my mind, but they seemed too deep to be dragged up, but I felt we knew each other’s thoughts and there was very little need for words.
Has your plan for making me happier succeeded? I think it has; for I have not felt that horrible depression which used to come so often, since I made a fresh start; friction and unkindness at home I have made up my mind not to notice, and as I am at home little I can easily ignore both.
It is you who have made this easy for me, you have made me brighter, you to have given me zest in my life, so that I feel now, instead of being overwhelmed by my work, that I can grapple with it and am master of it. Of course, I have many things yet to learn, but I feel myself capable of learning them.
You see I did remember the name, and isn’t it curious that my thoughts about it where just like yours? I think I told you your Mother used it once (the day you went to Tempsford) and it did not sound nice at all, but as I wrote it to you, it seemed to me just as it did to you “deep down and real and true”, and I am glad you liked it.
Twelve weeks have gone, gone like a flash, and we are nearer and dearer to one another than before. I have not the slightest hesitation now in saying “I love you”. I know I have made no mistake, and that is you for whom I have so long been waiting the fill up the gap; but you were worth waiting for!
I must not write more, except to say Goodbye to you, Belovéd, how I wish I could just say it to you, but I think of you always and you are the last in my thoughts every night, as you are first in the morning; the time is coming, and not so vary far away, when not only in thought but in person shall we be with each other night and morning.
Goodbye, my Dearest, help me to be all that you would have me be, all that is noblest and purest and best, help me to be fit to be your life’s companion. You that are to me all that is the very Best; no adjectives are adequate, not even superlatives, for in every thing, Belovéd, you are to me the very BEST. Goodbye, Goodbye.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Thursday, 15 October 2009
26 November 1917 Edith to Stuart - Letter #35
Edith to Stuart
26.11.17
My Belovéd,
You spoke this morning as if you thought I did not care for your letters. That one to Lucy[1] was certainly very nicely worded and put together, but it was nothing like those you write to me. My letters are little bits of you, and just – perfect. I liked the new name in the last one, (Friday’s) very much. I wonder if you remember what it was? I expect not. But I like it, all the same. I thought I should not like it, because it is one that is used so lightly, but when I read it, I could just hear you saying it, and it sounded deep-down, and real, and true.
I have been reading Arthur Mee’s ‘Letters to Girls’. In fact, I am always reading them, because when I get to the end, I go back and start again at the beginning. But I have just finished the one “To the Girl who loves her Home”, and there are such nice bits in it that I thought I would write them out for. But I think it would be nicer to read the whole letter, and most of it applies to the Boy who loves his Home as well. I think you said Gladys had the book, but if you care to use mine --- it is yours.
I quite understand about yesterday, both the afternoon and the evening, and I think you did right in both cases. I really do not think Ivy wanted to go out, and if she did, she should have told me definitely on Saturday. Besides, I am not going to leave you at the last minute, like that. It is bad enough to have to leave you at all, and someday --- you know the rest, don’t you, Belovéd?
Good-night, my Dearest. I wish I could be with you now. You must be tired out to-night, after such a long day, and your rough walk home. I wish I could have met you when you went in – I will some day, perhaps. But now, I can only write it on paper. Good-night, My Dearest, Good-night, and here’s such a kiss for you, only you can’t feel it. Good-night, Belovéd.
The spikenard was not wasted;-
All down the tale of years,
The fragrance of that broken alabaster
Still clings to Mary’s memory,
As clung it’s perfume sweet unto her master.
Not less than Martha,
Mary served her Lord,
Although she but sat worshipping,
While Martha spread the board.
They also minister to Christ,
And render noblest duty,
Whose sweet hands touch life’s common rounds
To Fragrance and to Beauty.
[1] Lucy was a mutual friend of Edith’s.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
26.11.17
My Belovéd,
You spoke this morning as if you thought I did not care for your letters. That one to Lucy[1] was certainly very nicely worded and put together, but it was nothing like those you write to me. My letters are little bits of you, and just – perfect. I liked the new name in the last one, (Friday’s) very much. I wonder if you remember what it was? I expect not. But I like it, all the same. I thought I should not like it, because it is one that is used so lightly, but when I read it, I could just hear you saying it, and it sounded deep-down, and real, and true.
I have been reading Arthur Mee’s ‘Letters to Girls’. In fact, I am always reading them, because when I get to the end, I go back and start again at the beginning. But I have just finished the one “To the Girl who loves her Home”, and there are such nice bits in it that I thought I would write them out for. But I think it would be nicer to read the whole letter, and most of it applies to the Boy who loves his Home as well. I think you said Gladys had the book, but if you care to use mine --- it is yours.
I quite understand about yesterday, both the afternoon and the evening, and I think you did right in both cases. I really do not think Ivy wanted to go out, and if she did, she should have told me definitely on Saturday. Besides, I am not going to leave you at the last minute, like that. It is bad enough to have to leave you at all, and someday --- you know the rest, don’t you, Belovéd?
Good-night, my Dearest. I wish I could be with you now. You must be tired out to-night, after such a long day, and your rough walk home. I wish I could have met you when you went in – I will some day, perhaps. But now, I can only write it on paper. Good-night, My Dearest, Good-night, and here’s such a kiss for you, only you can’t feel it. Good-night, Belovéd.
The spikenard was not wasted;-
All down the tale of years,
The fragrance of that broken alabaster
Still clings to Mary’s memory,
As clung it’s perfume sweet unto her master.
Not less than Martha,
Mary served her Lord,
Although she but sat worshipping,
While Martha spread the board.
They also minister to Christ,
And render noblest duty,
Whose sweet hands touch life’s common rounds
To Fragrance and to Beauty.
[1] Lucy was a mutual friend of Edith’s.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
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