These letters were returned to me, shortly after the death of thefriend to whom they were written, by his widow. It seems that he hadbeen sorting and destroying letters and papers a few days before hiswholly unexpected end. "We won't destroy these," he had said to her,holding the bulky packet of my letters in his hand; "we will keep themtogether. T—— ought to publish them, and, some day, I hope he will."This was not, of course, a deliberate judgement; but his sudden death,a few days later, gives the unconsidered wish a certain sanctity, and Ihave determined to obey it. Moreover, she who has the best right todecide, desires it. A few merely personal matters and casual detailshave been omitted; but the main substance is there, and the letters arejust as they were written. Such hurried compositions, of course, aboundin literary shortcomings, but perhaps they have a certain spontaneitywhich more deliberate writings do not always possess. I wrote my best,frankest, and liveliest in the letters, because I knew that Herbertwould value both the thought and the expression of the thought. And,further, if it is necessary to excuse so speedy a publication, I feelthat they are not letters which would gain by being kept. Theirinterest arises from the time, the circumstance, the occasion that gavethem birth, from the books read and criticised, the educationalproblems discussed; and thus they may form a species of comment on acertain aspect of modern life, and from a definite point of view. But,after all, it is enough for me that he appreciated them, and, if hewished that they should go out to the world, well, let them go! Inpublishing them I am but obeying a last message of love.
T. B.
MONK'S ORCHARD, UPTON,
Feb. 20, 1905.
MONK'S ORCHARD, UPTON,
Jan. 23, 1904.
MY DEAR HERBERT,—I have just heard the disheartening news, and I writeto say that I am sorry toto corde. I don't yet know the full extent ofthe calamity, the length of your exile, the place, or the conditionsunder which you will have to live. Perhaps you or Nelly can find timeto let me have a few lines about it all? But I suppose there is a goodside to it. I imagine that when the place is once fixed, you will beable to live a much freer life than you have of late been obliged tolive in England, with less risk and less overshadowing of anxiety. Ifyou can find the right region, renovabitur ut acquila juventus tua; andyou will be able to carry out some of the plans which have been sooften interrupted here. Of course there will be drawbacks. Books,society, equal talk, the English countryside which you love so well,and, if I may use the expression, so intelligently; they will all haveto be foregone in a measure. But fortunately there is no difficultyabout money, and money will give you back some of these delights. Youwill still see your real friends; and they will come to you with theintention of giving and getting the best of themselves and of you, notin the purposeless way in which one drifts into a visit here. You