STATION: KENMARE

ROSSDOHAN ISLAND
Co. KERRY

TELEGRAMS: SNEEM

13.8.45.

My own darling, I got here, very tired, on Saturday evening, having been travelling in all since Wednesday morning when I left Chetnole; your telegram greeted me but you will, by now, have received mine, and, presumably, my letters...please let me know if you don't; I wrote you one from the Ritz where I spent Wednesday evening...allthrough my journey here I kept wishing you well with me: we must come here together, darling. Ever since I left Euston I've felt as if I'd been enchanted: everyone seems to wish to combine to help one and be kind to one...a very noticeable difference after a very abrupt end to our stay in the hotel.

I've had for the last five years...I sailed through the customs and passport offices under the wing of the ticket collector and spent a cloudless crossing on the captain's bridge, feeling like a film star! On arrival in Dublin at 10.p.m. je me suis payé un enorme bifsteak! The menus in Dublin are quite incredible, and if Paris is a city of paradox, what then, can Dublin be? Everything is blackmarket, great luxury combined with terrible poverty, begging children everywhere; taxis cost a fortune, but the street's resound with fiacres...Life starts early and goes on late, with a sleepy hush in the afternoon...(I have been constantly put in mind of Spain ever since I've been here) people wear evening dresses and tail-coats, the man in the police station itself, under the nose of two enormous police sergeants, told me where to buy clothing coupons: Whiskey is plentiful but even the taxi drivers will ask you if you have any tea and offer you £1 for a pound of tea! Hotel servants ask you your life history, and people in shops tell you theirs. No one knew what time the train left for Kenmare, or when it got there, but, in point of fact, although we stopped two hours en route, we arrived an hour early. Dublin is incredibly beautiful and incredibly dignified and squalid: the country is so wonderful that I am speechless, and as for this place...I eat (meat, meat, meat!) like a horse,

can warm themselves on, and then DROP? This oper-
ation (to those possessed of a Non-Conformist
conscience) is then construed into something app-
roaching "I-could-not-love thee-dear-so-muche lov
ed-I-not-honour-more"...a sentiment I always res-
ented, even as a child! So you see, darling, I
can poke fun at myself...as well as others! Must
stop now; I love you and miss you, darling. Be
good to Alice, darling; c'est une chatte sans
griffes, tu sais, et qui t'aime bien, d'ailleurs.

All my love, darling, ever your own,

Let me know your plans and immediate movements.

Friday.

18.2.49.

HAMLET HOUSE · CHETNOLE

SHERBORNE · DORSET · YETMINSTER 83

My darling,

Forgive me for not writing before: I
had fully intended doing so but needless to say
have been buey since my return, besides which I
felt I must spend a good deal of time with Emma.
They did the Tuberculosis Test on her yesterday
which proved completely negative, so that is ruled
out, thank God. The mysterious thing as that she
gets a temperature at exactly the same time every
day...not a very high one, still, no child should
have one at all; also she has far too fast a
pulse, but I don't attach much importance to this
as I have had it all my life: I am inclined to
think it is just the nature of the beast; mean-
while, she eats well...like a horse, in fact...&
sleeps like a top, although she remains terribly
thin; anyhow, I have a reputedly excellent child-
specialist coming to see her tomorrow. Yesterday
I went and had lunnh with Kathleen Bassett and
took her the things you gave me for her: she was
thrilled with them, especially the ear-rings and
the scarf; the baby really is very sweet indeed
and has lovely blue eyes; at present the little
bracelet is too big for her but it will soon be
alright and it is best this way; anyhow, she
should be able to wear it for a long time to
come. You will be surprised, I know, to learn
that I have not, contrary to your anticipations,
seen "Mr Law"...as you insist on calling him: he
has been staying in Wiltshire with his sister,
finishing a book, and is at present in Yorkshire
speaking at a Bye-Election. How lovely it must be

if he refuses this, surely it is a sign that he has more
affection for you?

at St Loup today! I do love it and loved my stay
there; no wonder you discount any suggestion that
is made to sell it; when I make this I never
really mean it; what I do mean though, is that I
wish, so much, for your sake, that you could der-
ive more enjoyment from so exquisite a possess-
ion; when I come back even to this humble little
house I am delighted to see it again and there
seems no limit to what one can do to it! This
year I am re-painting her...the back part...a
delicate shade of pink! I have already started
the Pug wheels revolving by writing to a man I
know slightly called Lord Kilcoursie whose moth-
er used to breed them, and by ordering "Our Dogs"
and the "Dog World", for, believe it or not,
there really is a paper called this! I did love
my visit to France this time, darling, and I do
hope you are continuing to be brave and persist-
ing in practising walking; now is the time when
everything depends on you: the doctors and surg-
eons have done their bit, now it is up to you, &
I now how trying and tiring it is. I wish you
were happier but I do hope that you will not
have a change of heart and marry Rolphe; you
should try to regain, and keep, him as a friend,
but I feel sure that marriage would be fatal;
you yourself admit that not one of your friends
has ever advocated it; naturally people are cur-
ious as to the true state of affairs, and equally
naturally, until they are convinced that you do
not ultimately intend to marry him, they will
not come out into the open and say what they
really think about it, and him; I do feel, how-
ever, that the people who are fond of you...and
they are legedon...are against it, but do not

2.

HAMLET HOUSE · CHETNOLE

want

to hurt or perhaps antagonise you by saying so, or why; as to those who are merely acquaintances or intimate acquaintances, they probably only want to find out what you want them to say, and then say it. No, darling, you deserve something better than R. and I don't say this just because he hasn't got any money; were I well off I should never mind the idea of someone marrying me with my money. Write soon, darling, and as soon as you know your plans let me have them. Everyone says how well I look and I suppose you are right: I do look better when the "apero's" are cut down, though having made this handsome admission you are not to make use of it by quoting it, or to assume that my normal mode is one of sustained debauch: far from it. I must stop now; thank you for a lovely visit. Incidentally, I found that Emma adored the books you had bought for her (she thought the pictures were so pretty) so I allowed her to keep them after all! I shan't bother to write to Mrs Petter: it's too trivial. All my fondest love from your own,

lic

Hamlet House,
Chetnole,
Sherborne,
DORSET.
Sunday.

Darling Foxy,

I am sorry not to have written before but this is the first opportunity I have had to do so since I got your letter asking for advice about St Loup, the Ombrellino, Alice, and Princey; as I couldn't write at once, as you asked, I wired you, and as it is improbable that I will have time to write next week... Monday and Tuesday are very busy days and on Wednesday I go to London till Sunday. About the Ombrellino then...(though I must put it on record that you have never, as yet, to my knowledge taken my advice!!)...I shall never understand why, in the first place, you allowed Sonia to devaliser the Villa...though I fully understand her motives...nor do I understand why a reconciliation between you and Sonia should be celebrated by finally emptying the Villa of its remaining contents...since you neither of you need the money; having agreed to this, however, I no longer see any conceivable point in your retaining the Villa; you may be able to let it, unfurnished, but why not sell it? If it is empty you cannot return there yourself even for visits, and all remaining ambiance, all the atmosphere your mother built up there will have been dispersed with the sale of the last remains of its contents...as you say, you can't keep it up, and you could, I agree, never live there. You know, by now, what I constantly repeat that I think you should do: sell the Ombrellino, if possible for dollars, and with these buy an apartment in Paris; the amount of money you must have spent in hotels in the last five years would have bought, and furnished, the Palais Royale; if you cannot obtain the capital to pay the prime for an apartment this can always be arranged somehow, by a mortgage or some other means, but you must get it out of your head that you can expect to live a) rent free b) obtain an apartment without first paying for it! Knowing how much St Loup means to you I would never advocate your selling it, though I do think the time has come for you to organise the Paris part of your life a little more sensibly; in other words to have something to show for the very considerable sums of money you spend in hotels...even inexpensive ones. As to Alice: if she wishes to return to you I should not hesitate to have her back: you will never find anyone else so loyal, so devoted to you and your interests, so disinterested, and of such integrity; I would suggest that you have her back in the capacity of companion/housekeeper/ secretary and retain the services of the younger maid, as your personal maid: you can easily afford this...; (especially as Alice is rarely, if ever, paid her wages!)...and, with such an arrangement there would be less muddles and in consequence, far less unnecessary expense. As to

advising you about Rolphe, I don't consider myself qualified to do
so...(it is interesting to learn that he and Alice, as being the
people you "are fondest of, constitutait une sorte de petite famille")
...I don't know the latest Rolphe-ramifications or in what capacity
you wish to retain him in your life, though I do know that he rep-
resents the apotheosis of your ability to deceive yourself, and cert-
ainly I do not think you need think in terms of having behaved
"shabbily" to him. No doubt, your last letter is by now out of date
and this one, of mine, equally obsolete as by now both Alice and
Rolphe are probably installed at St Loup! All I want, darling...
(unlike you, for me), is your happiness, and for this end I would, at
any rate, take Alice back who understands and comforts you. Your
wire, asking me whether I wanted a bag or an umbrella for Xmas arr-
ived over the telephone and was taken down by Mlle who was very ex-
cited at the thought of my at last having the chance of possessing
the latter since she knows very well that never, under any circum-
stances, am I likely to possess an umbrella unless it is thrust upon
me!! I only once possessed one which I bought in Paris in a rain-
storm and promptly lost a fortnight later; still, darling, if you
want to give me one, do, by all means do so...though I think the ex-
change of useful presents spells the end of our sort of friendship!!
I would, personally, far rather have a very handsome black bag,
and/or some turquoise opaline, and, please, darling, bring me some
scent (Milhot's "Crepe de Chine", or "Scandal") for which I WILL Pay
I see that Nancy is to write Paris notes for the Sunday Times...
I must stop now being very exhausted from an appalling passage I had
this morning when I huge, drooling bull terrier seized porr Puggy
by the throat and I had to, literally, loosen its jaws with my naked
hands in order to save Puggy's life; needless to say, Puggy is none
the worse, but fearing for her life, I have been atremble ever since
I hope the asked for advice will prove useful, darling,
though I doubt it. Don't forget: I shall be away all this week, till
Sunday, and then back here till the 17th when I have to go to Bolt-
on till the 21st, and then, Xmas...

All my love, your own,

Hamlet House,

Chatnole,

Sherborne,

DORSET.

Sunday, July 2nd, 1950.

Darling,

I received a telegram from you this morning which makes me think that one of us is mad combined with a strong suspicion that it is not me. What conceivable reason can you have had for sending me such an offensive telegram? The only one I can think of is that you left England on Tuesday evening, arriving in Paris on Wednesday morning and presumably at St Loup on Friday or Saturday and that you did not find a letter from me awaiting you...even had I written, however, in immediate response to your very sweet letter asking me to write more often... (and which I only got on Wednesday morning)... it is very improbable that you would have received it by the week-end. You should know, too, by now, that I do not respond very favourably to abuse, especially when it is undeserved and with out provocation. That, however, is beside the immediate point which is that I must ask you, please, not to send me that sort of telegram whether you think it justified or not. I may occupy a very humble niche in society, whether local or not, but it so happens that, at any rate, round here, I am fairly well-known, and, I have reason to suppose, not dishonourably so; perhaps, therefore, you will agree with me that it is not either desirable or agreeable for me to return, on Sunday morning, from taking my daughter to church and to find a telegram has arrived for me relayed from Yeovil to the Chatnole Post Office, and telephoned on from there and taken down by Lizzie, containing three words only: "Brute, Beast, Pig"? How would you like it if the equivalent, in French, arrived at St Loup, from me, telephoned on from Provins and coincided with the arrival of some of your guests at St Loup? I don't think you would appreciate it particularly, any more than I do, and I must ask you not to do this sort of thing again, please.

I had been going to write to you anyway, thanking you for your sweet letter, but, as usual, I seem to have been terribly busy, and waited for a quiet moment in which to do so. I want to tell you, once and for all, that no one ever has, or ever will take your place in my heart and that you attach too much importance to the gift of a ring, a gift to which either the giver, or the recipient attach the significance with which you, with your very vivid imagination, evidently attribute it with. It came about quite casually and did not, and does not, assume the proportions of a symbol such as you evidently envisage. I loved seeing you so much, loved your happiness and pleasure in your success over here, and I shall always love you as much as ever...as it so happens, far more realistically far more enduringly than when I was so passionately in love with you. As you know, I happen to be the possessor of what you would call a "temperament", and I do think that women of my kind, and my

age are probably better balanced if they are fortunate enough to enjoy a satisfactory sexual life. The relationship to which you so much object is, surely, exactly the sort that you have always advocated English women emulating? On my side, it started, as you know, through pity for a person for whom I have always had a great affection, admiration, and esteem, and the fact that, when complete by another kind of affinity, it should have turned to something more enduring does not, in any way, affect my love for you, and more than it does my love for Emma, nor would I ever permit it to do so, in either case.

I have just finished reading Nancy's translation of La Princesse de Cleves, and, (although I don't want to be quoted, please, darling, since I see Nancy very seldom and she has never showed me anything other than kindness and hospitality) I am staggered at her temerity at attempting such a thing. You must read it and see for yourself and I feel sure you will agree with me. Surely, if one has any aesthetic integrity it is better to admit, as I do, that neither one's French, or one's English, is a la hauteur to translate some of the most pellucid 17th century French ever written? One comes across such sentences as the following:" Then the Queen sent a message to the King begging him to give over, to be content with his great success and come and join her"...The fact that one can write, in one's native tongue, "The Pursuit of Love" and "Love in a Cold Climate"... (neither of which I could do) doesn't necessarily mean that one can translate, literally, let alone render the particular flavour of the French in which the P. de C. is written, not to mention the atmosphere in which the whole novel is situated. I wish you would read it, darling, Nancy's version, I mean, not re-read the original, as I feel sure you will agree with me that by some strange tour de force on Nancy's part, the reason that she elected, in the first place, to translate this particular book is that she somehow or other associates herself with the Princess de Cleves, and the Duc de Memour with Balewski!! Really, I mean this, though it only dawned on me half way through. Forgive me for writing at such length about this, but it fascinated me, as I think it would you, and I have nothing of interest in my own life to write about...as usual. I must stop now, my darling. Please write soon and tell me all your news, and how far you have progressed with regard to obtaining a new car. I shall be away from Wednesday still Saturday: on Wednesday and Thursday at the Royal Show at Oxford, and for one night, on Friday, in London. I went to a Naval Ball, at Yeovilton, on Friday night which was a nightmare of boredom, followed by a Conservative Fete in Sherborne yesterday, and tomorrow by a Bazaar at Emma's convent, so you see...

All my love, my darling, and don't, please, send any more silly telegrams unworthy of both of us.

Yours own,

YEOVIL-WESTERN REGION.
YEOVIL JUNCTION-SOUTHERN REGION.

YEOVIL.

89.

LITTLE ALDON,

YEOVIL.

APRIL FOOLS' DAY.

Darling Foxy,

Thank you for your nice (although threatening) letters from Portugal. I prayed away like a Mantis-Lic the day of your flight to Portugal so you have **me** to thank for your having arrived safely...You **do** seem to have taken to 'living dangerously' what with supersonic Ambassadresses' and cattle-boats'?!...Do take care not to get **gored**, darling. It must be nice too, for you, **not** to want **to** be **me** for a change, and to be able to congratulate yourself so whole-heartedly on **your** mode of life as opposed to mine!! As a rule...or when it suits your fancy...it is the other way round. I would say, off-hand that one of the main differences between our modes of life ("The Frog and Toad have their Abode, They live Their life. I love Their mode.") is that **I chose mine** but **yours** seem to **have chosen YOU**? Anyhow, I am the first to admit that I am not in the position to write, or toss off, those charming, witty letters for which you are renowned, darling. I really **do** have too much to do

and although I believe this to be an excellent state of
affairs for someone of my temperament, (and who suffers
from a complete inability to relax,) it is tiring, and,
alas, my boring old self leaves a great deal to be desired...despite an increasingly bucolic bucolic appearance. We really are, after Easter, about to move
into the other house, and I am pleased...(although open
to deflation!)...with what I have...tried to achieve
there...You would have been amused had you been a fly-
on the wall(God forbid, now I come to think of such a
Fate!) the day the Gates's came over to Lucnheon: Syl-
vester,...who is now colossally rich entre parentheses...
was obviously furious that the house, park, garden,
etc., was so much nicer than I had led him to believe...
( I had said, when directing them here, quite innocent-
ly, and quite correctly, that the house was "the first
one out of Yeovil on the Dorchester road" and I suppose
they had expected a suburban villa?) This took the
form of his being extremely patronising to Bild, yawning
a great deal, and combined with an adamant determinat-
ion not to admire anything...except things that just
arent here, don't exist. With Pauline, it was rather

YEOVIL - WESTERN REGION.
YEOVIL JUNCTION - SOUTHERN REGION.

YEOVIL.

89.

LITTLE ALDON,
YEOVIL.

X(a good many, actually)X

2.

different: she admired all the ugly things... (and inevitably there are some in a house that has been lived in over a long period of years' and not just one of John Fowlers' bye-blops') far too much; this combined with telling one just the place to 'pick up' a charming little Regency (inevitably) something/or/other... What they entirely failed to realise is that we have too much furniture, and that, quite apart from 'pick-ing up' there must be a great deal disposed of...(Bill says he knows whose will be the first to go...(quite rightly). It is strange, though, darling, in a way that you will appreciate, that envy should prevent one from making, even, the gesture, of appreciating? ...(do you remember how they would look at NOTHING...except, shops...in Florence?...not that I claim a parralell... (can't spell that)...but it is, I think, part and parcel of the same mentality?...

furniture

(Paralell? parallel? = right - no?,

I have no news for you but you have exacted this letter
and so must endeavour to stomach the deserving West of-
England housewife element in it. After Easter, we are
really about to embark on moving into the other house
...which I have had polished and re-polished so long
that I could no longer put this off, except for the
fact of having no servants; now, however, I think I
really have got some: a married couple, a housemaid, and
a cook... if you realised the blood and tears' finding
these represents, not to mention over-coming the "Woe!
Woe!" attitude of the neighbours', and the man hours'
involved in interviews, driving all over the country-
side in pursuit of the non-existent you might, perhaps,
(though this is improbable) see why I have so little
tije for letter-writing?...

Emma is home for the holidays, very lanky but
still, I think, pretty; as she is going to ride at
Olympia and Harringay (in the International Horse Show) so
the whole of these holidays will be taken up with re-
hearsals...don't think I am losing my sense of perspect-
ive: she is bone-idle, and can, I think, do only too

YEOVIL.

[YEOVIL - WESTERN REGION.
YEOVIL JUNCTION - SOUTHERN REGION.

89.

3

LITTLE ALDON,
YEOVIL.

things' well: ride, and draw: the former will enable her to meet other children, be made to concentrate, "mix"...(never easy for anyone with an ounce of Richardson blood in them!..) the latter...if worth while developing will come later when I shall see that she is well taught...

(Why do I always have to have some ...incongruous... "Sicilian Lover" in my life? It used to be Mrs Randall, followed by Mademoiselle, and Now it is a ridiculous Labrador that Bill gave to Emma? I have never understood why someone who prefers human beings to doggies' and is is bored by doggies'-such as me - should inspire such undeviating adoration in their breasts? This dog tries (hard) to sleep cheek to cheek on my bed; follows me to the bath, cleaning muzzle on rim, lies in wait outside the lavatory, trips me up... in its' zeal...thirty times' a day, and insists on walking everywhere with my skirt in its' mouth...as is we were about to tread a measure...not to mention the whole of one's waking hours' being encumbered

with doting looks. Oh dear. ... If only it would transfer this superfluity of hove to where it belongs...
(Emma) how relieved I would be.)

I must stop now, darling: a dull letter as I warned you, and as I am the first to admit... Florence must be wonderful now... think of Old Utility from time to time, won't you? AND DON'T SAY I NEVER WRITE: THIS IS A GOOD THREE MONTHS' WORTH!

Always your own ever-loving,

P.S. Bill wouldnt countenance your letting your flat to his daughter: he said that it would be bound to send in tears" and I must say I think he is right: there being an undoubted discrepancy between their conception of a bibelot, and yours!