LETTERS WRITTEN AT CHENIES STREET CHAMBERS:

1888. To Edward Carpenter, written from Chenies Street, London, 28 July, 1889

Dear Edward

... It is a lovely day here, one almost sees the sky over the houses.

    I wonder how it goes with you at Millthorpe. I never like to ask you because I'm always afraid of touching you roughly when I mean to be so very gently. I have got my full marching orders for Afrrica now. I wonder if you will get yours.

    I wish we could have spent a day up the river together, you and he [Robert Franklin Muirhead]  and I: it would have been so perfect to have you both. One never hardly loves two human beings who love each other.

    Goodbye. I hope it goes well. I'll send you a nice savage book soon.
    Olive

    Life is full of compensations. When the desire of the soul is taken from us she gives us calm ....

1889 to Edward Carpenter, written from Ladies Chambers, Chenies Street [London] Saturday [ 17 August 1889]

My dear Edward

    If you don't find the savage book what yuou like, send it back and I'll send you a nice one about Malays. I'm reading about nothing but savages. I don't care for anything else now. thank you about the sandals. I send my measure a little large,  as it's better than too small. they will be just the thing because I can't be bothered with shoes and stockings there [at the Cape, South Africa] and my feet have got so tender in England that I shan't be able to manage the rocks for some time without something on ....

     Dr. Brown has just sent Alice a splendid skeleton and beautiful books of prints. He is going to pay entirely for her education and living and and books and all for the next five years. It's very beautiful, and she's happy to repaythim when her fortune is made. It's all so happy and nice about her ....

     I went for a walk to Regent's Park this afternoon and sat first by the lake with the boats and then among the flowers. I've just got home. It was so beautiful and restful just sitting there and not thinking of anything. It must be very nice bathin in your stream.

     I've taken my passage in the Norham Castle for the 11th of October. I've got a nice deck cabin.

     Goodnight.
     Olive

     I think I would rather the 'general public' didn't know I was going to Africa and the date of my going, so don't mention it - except to Bob [Robert Muirhead]. Won't it be lovely seeing the stars again? I can't believe it's true. Oh the stars.

[POSSIBLY. NEEDS TO BE CONFIRMED]

1889 To Edward Carpenter, written from [London] [4 September 1889]

Dear Edward

    Isn't the strike splendid? [The Great Dock Strike of 1889, in which casual labour won the right to form a union]
You ought to see the East End now. The strange earnest look on the people's faces, that sort of wide-eyed look. You look straight into their faces and their eyes look back at you; they are possessed with a large idea. It's very wonderful. I went yesterday to the places where the Salvation Army are giving away tiny packets of tea. About 500 men were there standing in rows waiting. The curious, silent, elate atmosphere, the look in the face of the most drunken old man was wonderful. I think I never felt so fuyll of hope as yesterday. But perhaps you are here seeing it.

Yours, Olive

written from [London]
[September 1889]

Dear Ed

     The sandals are quite perfect. I have already lent one to a woman who wants to have a pair made like them. But no others will be like them to me. I value them immensely.

     I should have written yesterday but I had a blow that somewhat unfitted me. My dear friend Amy Levy [1862-89 novelist] had diesd the night before. she kilkled herself by shutting herself up in a room with charcoal. We were away together for three days last week. But it did not seem to help her; her agony had gone past human help.

     The last thing I sent her was the 'Have Faith' page of Towards Democracy. She wrote me back a little note, 'Thank you, it is very beautiful, but philosophy can't help me. I am too much shut in with the personal.' You need not refer to all this when you write. I only tell you that you may know why I didn't write sooner.

     They say the East End women are getting terribly tired of the strike.

     Olive