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
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
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