Well dear Gerald I must stop now, as I’ve got to earn some money and do some Book Plates. Write to me very soon please. I love your letters so much, more than anyone else does. I write this in a great hurry so forgive its faults. Please take care of the fever & don’t get ill.
Yr loving Carrington
To Lytton Strachey
[41 Gordon Square?]
2 November 1920
Dearest Lytton,
What a perfect day! The sun even penetrates old London, and now shines in my window. What a number of curious things seem to have happened since yesterday. Perhaps just as many have happened to you! Hope-Johnstone arrived to tea yesterday with an invitation to a party at his studio in the evening. He is a regular kiosk of gossip. Roger’s [Fry] success in Paris, intrigues, and rumours. But I dislike him, and his methods. Nothing he tells one seems genuine. I think he is a very affected bore. I suspect he has qualities which he only shows Gerald. I can’t believe Gerald would tolerate him as he is in London. Ralph was very cheerful, and worked away for Leonard. At eight o’ck we went into Karin’s [Stephen]. We started at once discussing psycho-analysis and the topic never varied once! Ralph got on very well with them. Adrian is certainly less grim than he used to be.fn121 Whether it’s the result of psycho-analysis or not I don’t know. They both swear Mr Glover (the doctor who anylises [sic] them – PS I have a complex about spelling this word) has improved their characters enormously, their memories, and spirits. I almost believed them. They have rather nice rooms. Also an early Duncan which interested me, of boys on horseback, a decorative painting in monochrome. I quite enjoyed the evening, a good deal of wild gossip passed, concerning the mad and the semi-mad.
Then at 10.30, after we had dressed up, Ralph in a blue French blouse and his cords looking very charming, your Mopsa in blue silk pyjama trousers, and a frock affaire on top with a shawl, we went to J. H. -J. How it brought back another world! These familiar Bohemian figures. Some new ones, but mostly acting the traditional parts. John very drunk, lurching about like a Cossack in Petruschka, from woman to woman. Two Bohemian Fitzroy artists playing guitars and pipes in the corner, a mêlée of dancing people, little syphilitic harlots from the Café Royal, with faces like chewed india rubber, when you looked at them closely […] Dorelia [John] like some Sibyl sitting in a corner with a Basque cap on her head and her cloak swept round her in great folds, smiling mysteriously, talking to everyone, unperturbed watching the dancers. I wondered what went on in her head. I fell very much in love with her. She was so amazingly beautiful. It’s something to have seen such a vision as she looked last night. And ‘How is Strachey? Is Victoria nearly finished? Tell him I really will come and see him in the country … yes quite soon … I’ll bring some food with me …’ Then a mysterious smile. Ralph also fell in love with her. But was too shy to approach the Deity. Then Sylvia Gossefn122 completely drunk looking more vicious that it is possible to conceive. Dancing recklessly with her thin loose legs flying like a marionette figure in every direction. A great many revolting Café Royal girls, who made one almost sick. A group of dingy artists from Fitzroy Street who looked like road sweepers. Even Morgan [E. M. Forster], who I saw in an interval eyeing Ralph.fn123 Chili [Alvaro Guevara] who actually, so Ralph said, accosted him! A very perfect tart of a young man who you would have loved, very slim, one of those fair semi-Greek Henryesque faces, but probably riddled with disease. He came with Lord Berners and Chili. We danced all the time, and quite enjoyed it. I had some very entertaining dialogues with John, who was like some old salt in his transparent drunkenness.
‘I say old chap will you come away with me.’
D. C. But you know what they call that?
‘Oh I forgot you were a boy.’
D. C. Well don’t forget it or you’ll get 2 years hard.
‘I say are you insinuating,’ drawing himself up and flashing his eyes in mock indignation, ‘that I am a Bugger.’
D. C. My brother is the chief inspector of Scotland Yard.
‘Oh I’m not afraid of him.’ But in a whisper. ‘Will you come to Spain with me? I’d love to go to Spain with you.’
D. C. This year, next year, sometime.
John ‘Never.’ Then we both laughed in a roar together.
Ralph was very entertained. He hadn’t met John before. We left with the musicians, who packed up their instruments, at 1.30. Some more horrid upper class whores came in and I saw it would become a vast party of slobbers, and as I was tired, I hardly thought it worth while to linger. I thought we had what little cream there was off the top of the jug.
This morning we got up un peu tard. A parcel of woollens from my demented mother which I am wearing now. Then a journey to Birrell and Garnettfn124 to get some addresses of book shops. I was looking in the shelves whilst Frankie [Birrell] and Ralph were talking shop. Suddenly I smelt something very vile, turned round to discover the armchair in flames. Frankie suddenly saw it, looked very surprised, and just gave it a kick or two expecting it to go out. In the end I had to smother it with gloved hands. The cover was completely ruined, and most of the chair burnt. What a character Frankie is! Then glory be to God R. P. went down to Hendersons and managed to sell 125 copies of the Hogarth productions! He was wildly delighted, as it was his first venture into a bookshop as a pedlar.
Would you like 2 vols of memoirs of Marguerite de Valois from B. and Garnett’s shop as a little present? They were rather charming books. I am just going to tea with Faith [Henderson] today, and later to Brett’s for dinner.
To Lytton Strachey
41 Gordon Square
24 November 1920
Dearest Lytton,
A properly dated letter! I hope you are keeping well, and that Victoria goes well also […] Alan gave us a super dinner at the Café Royal upstairs. Really when the food is so good and rich I unfortunately always feel rather sick […] Afterwards we went to what is called a musical comedy at a theatre in Drury Lane. It was interesting. The herd instinct of the sham-upper-class audiences and the tendency of modern humour. A young man called Leslie Henson was the chief actor in the play. He was a very skilful combination of George Robey, little Tich, and almost every comedian on the Musical Halls, including Charlie Chaplin. In painting, such a wilful ‘crib’of artists, blatantly mixed up on a canvas would produce an outcry. I don’t think anyone notices the lack of originality in a comedian. There was one French actor in the play. And it was amazing the difference. He only had the part of a waiter.
But the point he gave to his acting, the completeness of it, was astonishing. It was a play adapted from the French. One saw the indecent situations, the indecent suggestions, and yet they had so covered it up, that all South Kensington could watch without a blush. Really I do think the English are appallingly stupid to laugh at such jokes and applaud such hideous vulgar scenes. This morning I went at eleven o’ck to paint her Ladyship [Lytton’s mother].fn125 She is superb. It’s rather stupid to tell you this. But I was completely overcome by her grandeur, and wit. I am painting her against the bookcase sitting full length in a chair, in a wonderful robe which goes into great El Greco folds. It is lined with orange. So the effect is a very sombre picture with a black dress, and mottled cloak, and then brilliant orange edges down the front of her dress. She looks like the Queen of China, or one of El Greco’s Inquisitors. Pippafn126 was superb. For, do you know, when they heard I had captured her as a model, Roger, Duncan, and Vanessa then stormed the castle, and asked her to sit for them. Pippa valiantly pleaded that as I had asked first I must be allowed to paint her first, and alone. They had suggested my joining them in a quartet! It’s all very well for a nude model as a back is as good as a front. But I didn’t like the idea of painting her Ladyship back view in a confusion of easels and conversation! […]
Gerald wrote me such a long letter on Monday. I am still trying to digest it. I wish he wouldn’t write a letter continuously for two weeks as its volume quite overpowers one when it does arrive! Six pages were devoted
to you, and a criticism of your work. And I thought Gerald showed remarkable intelligence in his remarks. But as he has asked me not to show it to you I don’t very well think I can. There was one remark however which Ralph must have found difficult to swallow.
‘As to his being a master of English prose there is no possible question. Gibbon cuts a small figure beside him, in spite of the greater “weight” of the Decline.’
I will bring you, however, the letter and his poems to read next weekend […] I cannot but help being lonely without seeing you, and I feel so often perhaps you miss me, and that you aren’t comfortable. Victoria matters so much to me. That’s what Ralph doesn’t feel. The importance above everything that a work of art, and a creator of such works, has for me. And yet do you know, this morning I felt these conflicting emotions are destroying my purpose for painting. That perhaps that feeling which I have had ever since I came to London years ago now, that I am not strong enough to live in this world of people, and paint, is a feeling which has complete truth in it. And yet when I envision leaving you and going like Gerald into isolation, I feel I should be so wretched that I should never have the spirit to work. But this must sound childish to you […] Dearest be happy till I come back. And write to me sometimes.
Yr loving Carrington
Although Carrington’s complex emotional life and her dedication to Lytton and their Tidmarsh life did get in the way of her painting, her own diffidence and the knowledge that her style was very different from the Charleston painters and not much admired by Roger Fry also held her back. Lytton himself always encouraged her, while also relying on her ruthlessly as his housekeeper and hostess.
1921
To Lytton Strachey
41 Gordon Square
[3 January 1921]
Dearest Lytton,
Yesterday I went with Brett to the Burlington Fine Arts and saw, what I still even on cool reflection, think the best picture I ever have seen. By Piero di Cosimo – a picture completely of wild animals, and the most beautiful birds, in a landscape of bushes, and a distant sea.fn127 I shall go again tomorrow to amaze over it. Really in these famished days of pleasure, it was a joy to see such a picture. You I am sure will adore it also. Afterwards we went to the New English. It was too awful and depressing to describe. Even Chili’s pictures were a disgrace. Brett spent the entire day with me. In the evening we both drew Ralph. Brett was so excited however, that she said she couldn’t draw properly!
Thursday
Yesterday Barbara arrived at lunch time very delighted to be back in London. In the afternoon we talked, and at six o’ck Faith and Hubert came in to see Barbara and a few minutes later Leonard. Then we had the greatest of dinner parties. Virginia clothed in gold brocade and scarlet as an Eastern Prince, looking very beautiful and tremendously gay, and lively. Saxon, Leonard, and us three. Mrs Sneddon produced a four course dinner, ending with an additional course of cheese straws! Then at 9 o’ck we went to the party at Bunny’s shop. The Anreps came, and a young lady of Bunny’s from the floor above.fn128 And Oliver and Inez [Fergusson]. Most of the company spent the time reading books from the shelves! And discussing business, and printing. After the Wolves left, we danced, listened to the gramophone, and played hunt the slipper, which old Anrep and Ralph enjoyed naturally, pinching the ladies’ legs looking for the shoe. On the whole I think it went off alright and Barbara enjoyed it very much. Now I must go to the post as I am going to paint Margaret Waley at 11 o’ck.
I will come down on Friday evening. Barbara, Saxon and Ralph are coming down on Saturday. No more news.
[From Ralph Partridge]
Have to dance among the fishes on Friday – will be down as early on Sat. as I can. Fond love R. D. C. has broken my nose. SHAME.
To Alix Strachey
The Mill House
15 April 1921
At last I have an evening completely to myself, dearest Alix, so I’ll commemorate it with a letter to you. The Major and Lytton both went back to London this morning and left me here alone. I started a still-life yesterday of tulips, and I was so pleased with it that I stay here alone to finish it. After all London’s a slight fraud! Lytton is now on the crest of his wave and lunches and dines with the shipowner’s wife ‘Maud’fn129 and Chelsea pseudo aristocracy, daily. So I hardly ever see him except in the evenings when he totters into 41, almost dead with exhaustion and high society. Partridge, Christian-named Ralph now, is on the crest of the Woolf’s back, or the Hogarth wave. They have just produced Tchekhov’s note-books which are very masterly and amusing. Short stories of the East by Leonard … which I’ve not and never will read although wood cut cover by yours truly humbly. R. P. is so busy tying up these books and typewriting that I get rather merged into it and find it interrupts my painting. Also my enthusiasm for tying up books was rather curbed as all the parcels I did tie up were returned to Leonard disintegrated in a pulpy mess. I heard rumours that Woolf growling was fearsome, so I hid from his wrath. […]
Lytton’s Victoriafn130 has been a great success in every periodical and paper in England and Scotland. Even The Times and Daily Mail bow before him! Many say it can’t be so good as E.V. to receive this adulation. But it is I think, much better. His fortune will soon be immense, if a revolution does not come and cut short his life. For he is definitely joining the Upper Classes I regret to say. He’s charming to me. I think he is walking on air for the moment and can’t be disagreeable!! Last Tuesday he hired a private motor and took Ralph and me to Hampton Court. It was fun whirling through London pretending to be one of the idle rich. Hampton Court is an amazing place. I much prefer it to Versailles. I think it is probably the greatest achievement of architecture in England. The colour is so remarkable.
We had lunch in an inn over-lapping the river, and then motored back to London, dropping the private secretary at the Woolves’ Lair on the way back […] Did I tell you at Easter Bunny and Mrs Bunny turned up here for one day on a walk they were making to Goring. She is – Heavens, what a face. What a character DOUR and SILENT. No one can understand it. R. P. thought her breasts rather attractive but that was all he could see in her favour. Perhaps Bunny is losing his eyesight, as well as his wits. Francis is distinctly cut up about it and weeps on one’s neck whenever one goes to the shop.
I have hopes of going to Italy with Lytton, but I see the finances are rather black for me. Lytton goes on the 7 May to La Berenson in Florence for 2 weeks. Then, D.V. [Deo volente, God willing], I may go out with R. P. and Pippa and join him. But it’s rather vague as R. P. may not escape from the Wolves […]
My love dear one,
Carrington
PS My beautiful friend Phyllis [Boyd] is shortly to marry a French Vicomte, a farmer in Normandy.
To Lytton Strachey
To L. S.
The Mill House
Sunday. Precisely 9 o’ck. But more vaguely morning, 8 May 1921
Dearest,
I have no idea what you are doing, what you look at, whether you glide in the rain over alps, or shiver in an Italian station room in your great cloak. You know what the sitting room looks like, and the view from this window: your visions I can’t even guess! It’s Monday morning now and I am writing sadly. So forgive the tinge of melancholy, if it creeps into these pages. I will tell you anything which has happened since you floated away with your hats, & boxes in the rain from Gordon Square – I dashed almost at once in a taxi to the Grosvenor Gallery with a nameless picture just in time, as Roger had started hanging. I took the tulips, I didn’t much like it. But I hadn’t anything else small enough […] Some how I feel rather despondent about the painting! It never seems to be anything like as good as what I conceive inside. Everything is a failure when it’s finished. They start off so full of life – I hope Giotto & the Florentines may brisk up my powers. Lunch with Ralph at G. S. and then a five o’clock train to Pangbourne. We found Barbara & Nick busy gardening & very happy […]
Ralph has had a mania for getting married lately
[…] He thinks it will be easier to go to Italy à deux & make things easier living at G. S. afterwards. There is something in it of course. But if we are going to be at loggerheads when I want to live here alone, perhaps it’s better to not be married! Au fond the real difficulty is he likes me always to be with him, and sometimes I prefer this life here. This morning he went off in a rage & Italy seemed to vanish with him. Now you know dear he only first told me this weekend that you are going to pay for our tickets. I cannot thank you, you are too good. So charming that I’d like to serve you all my life. Thank you very much indeed. ‘Too kind, too kind’ she murmured xxx and forty hugs for Blue Beard.
Dear, there is so much to say to you, yet I can write nothing […] I want to tell you that I miss you very much, yet it sounds so weak without the exactitude of feeling which I’d like to express. I hope you will be very happy in Florence […] And keep well. Please when there is time send me some jottings, about the people at the villa, the view from the windows & the pictures you see in the galleries. We must come! And I’ll give up everything to humour that Barbarian if only to bask under Italy’s sun. But he is a savage you know and I am a stoopid little mopsa I suppose & you, the wisest, best, loveliest bearded poet alive xxxxx
Carrington's Letters Page 19
