Sophy's death affects me more than any since Goppa's. She was the most
intimate of all my aunts, as I have constant memories of her from the
earliest times I can remember till she went to live at Oxford. I was
always devoted to her, and she had an almost uncanny power of reading
my thoughts. I don't feel there can have been a shade of bitterness in
death for her, though she loved life; but there is something woefully
pathetic in its circumstances, the pain, the loneliness, the misery of
the war.
I thought about her all yesterday. The sunset was the most wonderful I
have seen out here, and it seemed to say that though God could be very
terrible yet he was supremely tender and beautiful. How blank and
futile a sunset would be to a consistent materialist, as A.J.B. points
out in his lectures.
The result of publishing what he called my "hymn" in the _Times_ of
October 15th has been an application from an earnest Socialist for
leave to print it on cards at 8_s._ 6_d._ a 1,000 to create a demand
for an early peace! But I couldn't help focussing my thoughts of Sophy
into these lines:
Strong Son of God is Love; and she was strong,
For she loved much, and served;
Rejoiced in all things human, only wrong
Drew scorn as it deserved.
Fair gift of God is faith: 'twas hers, to move
The mountains, and ascend
The Paradise of saints: which faith and love
Made even Death her friend.
My leg is much better but will still keep me here some days, as I am
not to go till fit to march. It is a great nuisance being unable to
take exercise. I was in such splendid condition, and now I shall be
quite soft again. However there are compensations. The others are only
at Kut, which is as dull as this and much less comfortable; and they
have only 60lb. kits, which means precious little.
Swinburne I will begin when I feel stronger. The Golden Ass hasn't
come. I ordered it years ago, before the war, to be sent on
publication. It is a curious product of Latin decadence, about second
century; the first notable departure from the classical style. The
most celebrated thing in it is the story of Cupid and Psyche: didn't
Correggio paint it round the walls of a palace in Rome? I went to see
it with Sophy.
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