[41 Brimmer St., Boston]
I have been thoroughly tormented, over this long weekend, by the letter I wrote to you on Thursday. I know I should not have another opportunity to answer yours till to-day, so I wrote at once; and if I write to you at all I can only write in the mood in which I am at the moment – if I had waited two or three days it would have been a different letter. I am ashamed of myself, and can only apologise; I ought not to write so of my own pains to the One who has alone done so much to alleviate them and bring me a strange happiness. Will you forgive me? I am again in a calmer and happier mood since Easter. And please take account of this: four or five years ago I could not have written such a letter, though I was far more unhappy, and in a state of dark dry death; now, what I complain of, when I complain, is far less my circumstances than myself – my increasing consciousness, and my awareness of the standards I set for myself and which you set (by example) for me. I am certain to have such agonies from time to time, as a condition (for me) of life.
I am always happy to have you tell me about your friends, who interest me very much. I can well understand that you must have been very lonely when you went west, and again lonely when you returned. InEnglandLondon;h1TSE's isolation within;a2 London I have never formed any very intimate friendships – circumstances have perhaps made me feel more isolated than I need have been – partly because there are so many different worlds and types here – and at least they all allow each other to exist without persecution – I think that it is the least snobbish society, in a way, in the world. OnWoolfs, theTSE's dearest London friends;a3 the whole, I am happier with Virginia and Leonard Woolf (the latter by the way, is a Jew! of the type you describe) than with anyone; but then I know all sorts of people whom they don’t, and they know sorts that I don’t – and that is usually the way – one touches some people closely on one side, and some on another. Perhaps it is again merely circumstance, but I get very little from women. IWoolf, VirginiaTSE's most trusted female friend;a4 know hardly any whom I really trust – IWoolf, VirginiaTSE underrates;a5 suppose I trust Virginia – I think she has always been perfectly loyal – my diffidence – no, not diffidence, but a slight barrier is that I do not in my heart admire her work quite so much as I am sure she likes it (naturally) to be admired; andWoolf, LeonardTSE's confidant in matters of mental health;a1 then, as she is very delicate, and was once raving mad for a time, there is a whole side of things which I cannot discuss with her (though on this side I have at times found Leonard helpful).
As you suggest, IHayward, Johnhis condition and character;a2 believe my friendship with Hayward is increased by experience, at least analogous, which neither of us can share with most people. He is a hopeless cripple – if he falls down it takes him ages to get up again, and he doesn’t like to be helped – very ugly, and obviously by his physique condemned to a life of celibacy and pain. Some say that he ‘might bite’, but I don’t think that he would bite me, and if he did I don’t think I should be offended. I wish that he had some religious faith and practice to support him.
StephenSpender, Stephendescribed for EH;a1 Spender is a very different type – tall and handsome and surely attractive to everybody, blue eyes and curly blond hair – who came down from Oxford a year ago with a great undergraduate reputation as a poet – a small private income, and every qualification for being a great success in any society. He has chosen to go to live indefinitely alone in Hamburg, and doesn’t want to publish a book of verse for a long time – in which reticence I try to encourage him. I like him more, personally, than any young poet I have known.
I think it would be a very good thing if you could get more engagements outside of New England, and get about the country more next winter, though I confess selfishly (but this time shamelessly) that it is vexing not to know at any moment exactly where you are, and to wonder whether I shall be able to depend upon my Letter once a week. I weigh every word and analyse every sentence, as if it were a difficult Greek text! to try to catch every shade of meaning and mood, and to try to find jealously how you are thinking of me – I am an egotist, and I dare say a goosy one.
ByWoolf, VirginiaJacob's Room;e3 the way, there is ‘Jacob’s Room’ a novel, andWoolf, VirginiaA Room of One's Own;e2 ‘A Room of One’s Own’ <long essay – very good> – does Mrs. Davidson mean either of these? Virginia is away at present, and besides I don’t like to risk to her any exposure of ignorance – I can have these or any sent to you. I hope for another Letter during this week and will in that event write again before the week is out.
1.‘Your most devoted friend’.
11.JohnHayward, John Davy Hayward (1905–65), editor and critic: see Biographical Register.
12.Stephen SpenderSpender, Stephen (1909–95), poet and critic: see Biographical Register.
13.LeonardWoolf, Leonard Woolf (1880–1969), writer and publisher; husband of Virginia Woolf: see Biographical Register.
1.VirginiaWoolf, Virginia Woolf (1882–1941), novelist, essayist and critic: see Biographical Register.