A Wonderful Original Handwritten Signed Eight-Sided Letter and Envelope from Juliette Huxley to Ottoline Morrell discussing her Relationship with her husband Sir Julian Huxley. Undated but circa 1923. The envelope is addressed to The Lady Ottoline Morrell, Kurhaus Hoven,Freiberg in Brisgau, Baden, Germany. The letter reads 31 Hillway, Highgate, N.6., Mountview 5744. Dear Ottoline, I should have answered your letter before, but I was laid up – oh these eternal bacteriological tournaments & am still in bed slowly & so painfully recovering. I have no patience with my illnesses, & resent their catching hold of my heels so cunningly. – This time the specialist came up, & I hope will get at the root of the trouble & cure me somehow. Forgive this boring affair – You know too much about ill-health, & I should not bore you with mine. J. has written to me that the “marriage” is off. He cabled the girl & jilted her. She is naturally v. upset - & has threatened to come over – meanwhile, he has written me and wants to see me terribly – I took ill & had to put him off, & shall now see him next week – He now says He never ceased loving me, & wants to start over again. And of course, cannot wait a day – All so unstable, so unreliable - I want a man, not a shuttlecock. He is obviously in a highly nervous state, clutching at every straw & refusing still to look at himself calmly – He hasn’t found his soul in her pocket, as he hoped - & so turns to me. When will he understand that no-one but himself can give him peace – he must work & weep & hunger for it & know bitter suffering – I cannot help him until he accepts his defeat - & thereby wins his soul. I must not help him, for it would destroy me again. I sound hard – I know, but I have to be. The price of peace & life – Don’t misunderstand me. By not helping, I mean I cannot take him back now, at once, & listen to his self-justification. I can only stand there & leave the door ajar. And even so, I tremble – It’s all so minutely adjusted, like acrobatic trapezes, & every fault will mean more pain. And yet, why should I grudge a little more pain? Pain has been my enemy until she lived in me - & then she became so much a friend - But before, what hell it was – could it begin again? I am glad you are with Dr Martin – I think of you, getting stronger, & living in light – I dreamt I was choosing new curtains last night with you – in a high room; grey panelled. The walls were hung with little stripes of bright colours, running up like flames – All day it has been a background to my mind, lovely colours like yours. I lie in my huge bed, & think of them, & of lovely words linked together to make poetry, like magic casements opening up on the foam of fairy lands forlorn – one’s world becomes so small & almost like a nest as one lies in bed – The house has only one room, the room one window, - one suffices to oneself. Yes, but life lies waiting on the doorstep, & there will be the inescapable decisions – there will be Julian, poor silly Julian! This is an absurdly long letter – & I haven’t said half I wanted – I send you my love; I’d like to discover a lovely poem to send you – I find too many. Matthew Arnold has fallen fresh as a star into my room. I revel in it. You like him? It is like Gower St. I’m on the doorstep since half an hour & cannot go away – Because your front door makes such a radiance about everything - & it is so warm. Dearest Ottoline, good night. Juliette. Juliette, Lady Huxley (née Marie Juliette Baillot; 1896 –1994 was a Swiss-French sculptor and writer. She provided lifelong support to her husband, British naturalist Sir Julian Huxley. Around 1915 she began working as a tutor to the daughter of Lady Ottoline Morrell at Garsington. It was there in 1916 that she met Aldous Huxley and his brother, Julian. She and Julian were married in 1919. Lady Ottoline Violet Anne Morrell 1873 – 1938 was an English aristocrat and society hostess. Size is 165mm x 122mm. Condition good.